Alaskan Nights

by Nadia Scrieva

  “God, you’re like a whiny little girl. Here,” she said, pulling the empty coffee cup out of its holder. “Just empty it back in here. You can do that while driving, and I can’t. So take advantage of your anatomy.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” he asked in horror. “I can’t do that with a lady sitting beside me. I do it all the time on my own, but…”

  “It’s not like I haven’t seen your junk before,” Brynne told him, shoving the coffee cup at his nether regions. “Please, Callder? Please just pee into the cup for me so we can make it home without stopping.”

  “Fine,” he agreed sullenly, “but you’re going to have to hold the cup. And everything else. I was taught to keep both hands on the wheel while driving.”

  “What? You’ve been driving with one hand for the past thirty hours. Callder, don’t be a douche…”

  “You’re the one who commanded me to pee. So help me pee.”

  “Fine,” she mumbled, reaching over to undo his pants. She held the coffee cup in position, and looked away. “Go ahead. You can start peeing.”

  A few seconds passed. Callder cleared his throat. “Maybe this is a little more awkward than I expected. Give me a moment to get the plumbing working.”

  Brynne began to whistle in boredom. “Hurry it up already. I can’t hold your clogged faucet all day.”

  “You’re holding it too firmly. Just be gentle. You don’t have to squeeze the pee out; you’re not milking a cow. Just let it flow.”

  “Sorry, I’ve never helped a guy pee before.” Brynne glanced to her left, surveying the technicalities of the situation. “Hmm. It’s really small like this. I’ve never seen it this small before.”

  “I think that’s about to change. Yes, this isn’t working as well as I thought it would.”

  “Just think about waterfalls,” Brynne offered helpfully. “Think about the gardening hose. Imagine watering the lawn...”

  “Ohh, that’s helping.” Callder leaned his head back and sighed as his urine started to flow into the coffee cup that Brynne was holding.

  “Ewwww,” she said, turning away. “Ew, ew, ew, ew.”

  “You told me to do this!” he reminded her. “It was your idea!”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to like it… I think some pee splashed on my hand! Ewww.”

  “I will never understand women,” Callder said, shaking his head.

  Chapter 9: The Real Hero

  “Are you ready?” Callder asked, as they sat in the car outside her parents’ house.

  She looked down at her hands which were folded in her lap. “I don’t know. What if they’re mad at me for leaving? I should have been helping out. I made things harder on them.”

  “Brynne, it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that you came back when they needed you. You’re a good daughter.”

  “I—I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe we should keep driving. Maybe we should go to your house first and hang out there for a while.”

  Callder sighed. “Don’t be a pussy, Brynne.”

  She looked up in shock. “I am not!”

  “Yes. Yes, you are. Compared to the amazing girl I used to know a few years ago—you’re a wimp.” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder and shake her gently. “You were a fireball, Brynne! I don’t even know how you became this broken-down, used-up scrap heap—probably from hanging around that Andrew guy. You were outspoken and courageous and vibrant—that’s why I fell in love with you.”

  “Love?” she repeated dumbly.

  “Yes. Now go in there and be strong for your folks.”

  Brynne nodded, leaning forward to place a kiss on Callder’s cheek. “You really are my hero, you know that?”

  “Nah, my brother’s the real hero,” Callder said with a shrug. “I’m just lucky that I can mooch off him—and occasionally not screw up too badly. That’s the best I can ever hope for.”

  “You have low self-esteem,” Brynne told him.

  “I also have low morals,” he said with a wink, reaching out to slide his hand up her skirt and squeeze her thigh. “Now get out of here, dollface—before I kidnap you forever.”

  Brynne smiled at him sadly before exiting the car. She moved down the walkway to her childhood home and hesitantly stuck her finger out to ring the doorbell. She glanced back at Callder, and saw him giving her the thumbs up sign from the car. Before long, the door opened, to reveal her mother.

  “Brynnie! Oh, look at you, sweetheart!” The older woman was instantly tearful. “My little girl!” She pushed open the screen door and moved forward to wrap her arms around her daughter.

  “Hey, Mom.” Growing somewhat choked up, Brynne hugged her mother back. She knew then that she would never be able to leave Alaska permanently. This little corner of the world held too much of her heart and soul captive. She glanced over her mother’s shoulder, looking for Callder, but he had already driven away.

  “Come in, come in,” her mother said wretchedly. “Let me tell you about what your father’s done this time. I swear, that man will be the death of me.”

  Brynne stared sadly at the spot where the red Ferrari had been parked a moment before. She had gotten really attached to Callder over the past few days of being trapped in an enclosed vehicle with him. And enclosed motel rooms. Having him drive away from her, even though he would be only a few dozen miles away, felt like ripping out a chunk of her flesh. Callder had always possessed the ability to get under her skin, like no other could.

  * * *

  “Are you sure he didn’t get fresh with you?” Mrs. Ambrose asked.

  “Mom!” Brynne said in embarrassment. “He was fine. Callder’s not totally a creep like you think.”

  Mrs. Ambrose sighed. “I’ll bet he’s even worse. I hate to think of that low life anywhere near my little girl.”

  “I’m not little anymore. I’m twenty-two, and I have a job and a life,” Brynne said angrily. “I can make my own choices.”

  Her grandmother entered the room with a serving tray of tea. The family cat danced around her feet, happy to welcome Brynne home. “I always had faith in you dear. I knew you’d be successful. Thank heavens you came back to visit us when you did.”

  “I came because Mom told me to,” Brynne confessed. She reached to scratch behind her cat’s ears. “She said that you needed money to bail Dad out of jail.”

  “We do. It’s $10,000 before he can come home. Do you think you can help us, Brynnie?”

  “I wish I could,” Brynne told them, looking down at the curious animal at her feet, “but I don’t have the money to spare right now.”

  “He didn’t mean to do it,” Brynne’s mother said, her lip quivering. “He’s not a violent person, you know that.”

  “I know, Mom. I know.”

  “He shouldn’t be in that place. Did you know they only let you have one shower per week? Do you know that he’s not eating nutritious meals, and he has so many health conditions…”

  Brynne moved over to her mother and encircled the older woman’s shoulders tenderly. “It’s okay, Mom. We’ll find a way to get him out.” She was not sure how exactly she would accomplish this without the funds, but she was resourceful.

  “Are you going to leave again, Brynnie? I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Please say you’ll stay here at home with us—I’m an old woman, and I miss my daughter.”

  The cat meowed loudly in agreement with mother’s sentiment.

  Brynne swallowed back a lump of emotion. She was not sure how long she would remain in Soldotna, but she could not upset her mother. “I’ll be here, Mom. I’ll be around. Promise.”

  * * *

  Callder was driving in his red Ferrari for the final time. Upon getting home, his older brother had shoved a credit card bill into his face and uttered two words:

  “Fix it.”

  He could see that Trevain was furious. He could almost feel the virtual steam being expelled from the man’s ears. Worst of all, he knew that he deserved the rage
, the discipline, and the distrust that would result from his indiscretions. He accepted the consequences with a smile and a shrug, like he always had. It was all worth it to have spent so much time with Brynne.

  Now, as he drove to return the car to the nearest dealership (which was three hours away) he could not resist the urge to pass by Brynne’s house and take her for one final joyride in her favorite car. He knew that their relationship with the vehicle could not last forever, but he hoped that their relationship with each other would outlive the powerful V8 engine.

  When he came upon her house, he popped out of the car and strolled up to her front door. He shoved one of his hands into his pockets before ringing the doorbell.

  After a few minutes, Brynne’s mother answered the door. “How can I help you, Mr. Murphy?”

  “Mr. Murphy is my brother! Just call me Call,” he said with a grin. “How are you tonight, Mrs. Ambrose?”

  “Brynne’s not home,” the woman answered, moving to close the door in his face.

  “Hey! Yes, she is,” Callder said in dismay. “That’s not nice, lying to a neighbor.”

  “When the ‘neighbor’ happens to be the neighborhood manwhore, I will decide whether my daughter is at home or not.”

  Callder wrinkled his brow and scratched his head. “But she’s an adult now…” he began.

  “I don’t approve of my daughter spending time with you, young man. Please, take your shiny red car and stay away from my family.”

  The door slammed in his face.

  “Shucks!” Callder said, resisting the urge to say something a little more colorful. “Well, ain’t you a peach.” Barely deterred from his mission, he strolled around the house and began to study the ground for small stones. Crouching, he selected a few and placed them in the palm of his left hand. He waited to make sure that there was sufficient noise from inside the house before he lobbed a stone up at Brynne’s window. Waiting for a few seconds, he repeated this until the light went on, and Brynne came to the window.

  She fiddled with the windowpane to slide it upward before looking down curiously. “What are you doing?” she whispered in surprise.

  “I want to take you for a drive,” he said, “before I lose the Ferrari.”

  “You have to return it?” she asked sadly.

  “Yes, my brother is making me.”

  “Was he upset?” Brynne asked.

  Callder nodded. “It could have been worse! He’s been way more pissed at me in the past. So are you coming down?”

  “I don’t think I can come with you,” Brynne told him. “I am having some problems at home right now.”

  “What problems?” he asked.

  “It’s my dad,” Brynne said quietly. “We can’t afford to bail him out of jail, and it’s upsetting my mom.”

  “Oh, is that all? Why didn’t you tell me it was just a money problem?”

  “It’s not just a money problem…”

  “Take your family to the jailhouse at noon tomorrow,” Callder instructed. “We’re going to fix these stupid problems so you can spend time with me guilt-free.”

  “Callder, I don’t think that will solve…”

  “Sleep tight now, B. See you bright and early!” Blowing her a kiss, he headed back to the Ferrari. When she could no longer see his face, a look of consternation settled on his brow. He frowned, trying to think of a solution. There was always a solution.

  Chapter 10: The Turbulence Erased

  “Are you sure he’s coming home with us today?” Brynne’s mother begged her as they pulled into the jailhouse parking lot. “Do you promise you can get him free?”

  Brynne rubbed the steering wheel nervously. The old family car was nowhere near as nice as the Ferrari she had gotten used to. “I don’t know, Mom. I will try.”

  “I’ve been running around frantically these past few days, trying everything.” Mrs. Ambrose pressed a handkerchief against her nose. “I spoke to a bail bondsman—I called up old relatives to see if anyone would help. It’s times like these that you truly learn who your friends are; and I’m learning that I don’t have very many. I don’t know if I can stand to get my hopes up again. I just want your daddy to come home.”

  “Well, let’s go in there, and test the power of my guardian angels,” Brynne said with a sigh. She wondered whether she should put any faith in Callder’s words.

  Mrs. Ambrose began weeping quietly. “There are no such things as angels, Brynne. You should know this by now. If you look to the sky for help, you’ll only be disappointed.”

  “I’m not looking to the sky for a savior,” Brynne informed her mother. She gave the older woman a crooked little smile. “I’m looking to the sea. Come on, let’s go get Dad.” Reaching across the car to squeeze her mother’s wrinkled hand, Brynne tried to transfer a bit of her strength. She hardly ever felt strong anymore, unless she needed to be strong for someone else. Then, the strength always seemed to magically appear.

  Exiting the car and heading for the jailhouse, Brynne slowed down her pace considerably to allow her mother to keep up with her stride. She felt a fluttering of nervousness in her chest, unsure of what was awaiting her. She had never visited someone in jail before.

  When she entered the lobby, she saw the backs of two very tall men, standing side by side. One of them had brown, curly hair, and she was fairly sure that it was Callder. She remembered running her fingers through those very curls not too long ago, and their texture was still fresh at her fingertips. The man beside him was slightly taller, which was impressive, for Callder was already six feet and two inches tall. The other man’s hair was a light reddish-brown that could almost be called ginger, speckled with a few flecks of silver. It was also somewhat shaggy.

  Sensing her presence, he turned around and made eye contact with her. Unlike Callder’s warm brown eyes, this man had the gaze of a green steel knife. They sliced through her instantly, cutting her with the scrutiny of his intelligence. A moment later, they had relaxed, and he was walking toward her.

  “I’m not sure if you remember me, Brynne. It’s been a while. I’m Captain Trevain Murphy.” He extended his hand to shake hers.

  “I remember you,” she answered, returning his handshake. It was the most powerful handshake she had ever received, while still being gentle.

  “Thanks for giving my brother a reason to come home,” Trevain told her. “He gets a bit carried away when he goes to Vegas.”

  “I should be thanking him for the ride home and the good company,” Brynne said with a smile.

  Callder had glanced back to acknowledge her arrival with a nod, but he returned to leaning over the front desk and arguing with the clerk.

  “Fine, fine!” the clerk said, stamping a bunch of documents. “I’ll expedite the process. Mr. Robert Ambrose will be let out of jail in a few minutes. Just wait here.”

  “Heavens!” Mrs. Ambrose said, wringing her hands. “Is Rob really coming home? But… how?”

  Callder turned around and winked at Brynne’s mom. “I told my brother about your situation, and he said he’d come down to the station and help out. Trevain is kind of a do-gooder like that, and has plenty of money to spare.”

  Mrs. Ambrose gasped. “Bless your soul, Captain Murphy!” She moved forward to hug the tall man in joyous gratitude. “My Brynnie is right—there are still angels among us after all.”

  “Nonsense, Ma’am,” Trevain said bashfully. “It’s worth way more than ten thousand dollars to keep Callder out of trouble, and Brynne is the first woman who’s ever been able to do so successfully. I owe her for babysitting him these past few days—in fact, she probably saved me a lot more than ten grand, so consider it payment for services rendered.”

  “No,” Brynne said, shaking her head. “I’ll find a way to pay you back, Trevain. Maybe I can help out on your boat sometime. I’ll work for you, if there’s any work for me to do. And if there isn’t, I’ll find work elsewhere and get that money back to you…”

  Trevain fondly clapped Bry
nne on the back in a companionable way. “There’s no need for that, dear. Just keep an eye on my brother for me, for as long as you can stand him. Try to keep him away from sharp objects, decks of cards, women of the wrong sort, medicinal herbal remedies, and explosives.”

  “The thing with the firecrackers was one time,” Callder said defensively.

  “I’ll try,” Brynne said, uncertain of how well she would fare at this task. A beeping sound was heard, and a door opened to reveal a disheveled looking older man in an orange jumpsuit, holding a pile of folded clothes. “Daddy,” Brynne whispered. Her mother had already bounded forward into the man’s arms.

  “Oh, Rob, Rob, Rob,” she cried, hugging and kissing the man tearfully. “I missed you so much.”

  “I’m so sorry for putting you through this, Marta,” Brynne’s father said, stroking his wife’s hair. “And our little girl—upsetting her life and making her travel all this way for nothing…”

  “I’m happy to come,” Brynne said softly. “I’m just glad to see you both again, safe and sound.”

  “I’m never drinking again,” Robert Ambrose vowed as he held his wife. “I realize that I have a problem… and I’m not going to let this destroy my family.”

  Brynne sighed, moving over to Callder and wrapping her arms around his neck. She buried her face against his neck, hugging him not only to thank him, but because it was the thing she most wanted to do. Although his touch and voice were usually enough to temporarily ease away the symptoms of her tension and anxiety, this time, he had really come through in a permanent and fundamental way. He had abandoned his boyish, superficial techniques of life-management, and taken it upon himself to do something responsible and unselfish.

  He had erased the source of the turbulence in her life.

  Brynne’s mother moved over to them as soon as she could pull herself away from her husband. She pressed a hand against Callder’s shoulder, looking at him with naked sentiment painted across her face. “Dear boy, thank you for your kindness. Thank you for doing this for us. I’m sorry I turned you away last night; that was so rude of me.”