by Lois Richer
Jack was always nice to her. But he was just being polite, nothing more. She knew that.
Still, it couldn’t hurt to be polite back, could it?
He would be just another friend. So why did she yearn for more than friendship from this man?
Chapter Seven
As far as information gathering went, Jack found the evening’s discussion enlightening. Once launched on the topic of the sod house, Alicia recited stories with details she’d never before mentioned. Jack scribbled wildly. But when she finally paused, he realized he still didn’t have what he wanted.
“So can we say we’ll build a fifteen-by-twenty-foot floor area?” he asked with a flicker of frustration.
“Is it important we decide size right now?” Alicia asked quietly.
“I think so.” He reined in his irritation. “If we’re going to get this done in time, we should start firming up the details.”
“Oh.” Alicia nibbled on her bottom lip, looking adorably confused.
“It doesn’t have to be an exact replica, does it, Jack?” Laurel interjected. She’d always been good at mediating solutions. “I mean, this is supposed to be a representation, something to give an idea of how it might have looked.”
“Yes.” Alicia smiled at both of them. “The thing is, Jack, the size will be determined by how deeply we can dig, when we hit permafrost and what kind of soil we’re into. It will also depend on the driftwood we can scavenge. We may have to approach local businesses for donations.”
“I see.” Jack scribbled more notes, added question marks beside some, then noticed Alicia hadn’t brought a notebook. “Would you like some paper?” He prepared to tear a few sheets off his own pad.
“No,” she looked away from him. “We don’t need more than one secretary, do we?”
Hoping she wouldn’t want to rehash everything again next time because she hadn’t made any notes, Jack shrugged.
“I guess I could type my notes and email everyone a copy,” he said.
“I don’t have email,” Alicia said.
“Really?” Shocked, Jack caught himself staring at her. Her chin thrust out as if she was preparing to weather a put-down. Funny how he hated seeing that defensiveness.
“I can’t afford a computer yet,” she murmured. “Eli’s been managing my website from here.”
“That’s nice of him.” Jack nodded at the boy. “Then I’ll drop off a copy of my notes at Tansi. Or Giselle can.”
“Okay.” Alicia sounded strange.
“I don’t understand where the driftwood comes into it,” Laurel murmured.
“Most of what you described sounds entirely different from what we did in Vancouver,” Jack added. “Maybe you can explain it so we understand better.”
“Sure.” Alicia nodded. “But it’s not very complicated.”
“It’s not?” Jack frowned. The house he and Simone had helped with had seemed quite complicated, especially when it came to cutting the sod.
“No.” Alicia grinned at him. “You see, the name ‘sod’ house isn’t exactly accurate. The first settlers didn’t find much sod around here. But they needed a quick project to give them shelter so they copied the prairie sod house model because it’s fast. They started by digging shallow holes in the ground.”
“Tools?” he asked, scribbling as fast as he could.
“Very few,” Alicia said. “A pick to dig. A wedge to split logs. An adze to shape the planks they made and a snow knife to cut blocks of snow for the porch. Maybe you should give me a piece of paper. I’ll try to sketch it.”
Jack tore out a sheet and handed it to her. In ten seconds she’d outlined out a structure.
“They dug a shallow trench then split driftwood to make a frame. Planks on the floor raised it to give warmth off the frozen ground.” She bent intently over her sketch, her hair falling to one side as she worked, her fingers swift and sure.
Jack couldn’t stop staring at her; she looked so lovely. Until he noticed Laurel was watching him. Then he pulled his gaze back to Alicia’s drawing.
“As I understand it,” she said, her focus completely on her sketch, “they laid the planks vertically to make short walls and then a roof. They mixed whatever bits of sod they could find, probably moss with dirt as well, and piled it on the walls and roof. Once the snow fell, they cut blocks and laid them over the entrance tunnel creating a long porch that helped keep the wind from blowing straight into the house.”
With a flourish she finished her sketch and held it up.
“It’s completely different than I expected.” Jack admired the way she’d created perspective so he could see exactly how the thing was formed. “It almost resembles an igloo.”
“It probably did look like that in the winter,” she murmured, her head tilted to one side. “Snow would have added insulation.” The easy way she added the details told Jack that Alicia didn’t need the books he’d been so intent on.
“You seem to know all the details.” He was ashamed he’d doubted her.
“I made the elder repeat the process,” Alicia admitted, her cheeks flushed, her eyes avoiding his. “I wanted to be certain I understood exactly how this came together, to be as accurate as possible.”
“You did a good job.” He could tell she was embarrassed by his compliment so he changed the subject. “Our first step, then, would be to collect some driftwood.”
“Yes.” She did lift her lashes then and flashed her beautiful smile at him. “I’ve already pulled some from the water.” She said it as if it had been the easiest task in the world for her to haul waterlogged trees from the frigid bay. “I found some big ones that David Tutu pulled to shore with his boat. But we’ll need more.”
Jack’s admiration for Alicia grew. Far from being unprepared, Alicia was organized and far ahead of the points on his list.
“I hope you won’t mind, but I also asked a chief I know to make an adze for us. I met his mom in Thompson a couple of months ago. She also gave me a lot of information.”
Jack winced. He’d mentally criticized Alicia for disorganization, but she’d made the long and tiring journey all the way to Thompson to get firsthand information so she’d be able to be accurate in her recreation. Jack figured he was going to have to up his game to keep pace with this plucky woman. Anticipation coursed through him. This might be fun.
“So when and where do we start?” he asked.
“I haven’t been successful with that.” She chewed her bottom lip. The way she cast her eyes lower told him someone had put down her idea to recreate the sod house. “Town council keeps putting me off. Last time they suggested I use a piece of land that’s a long way out of town.”
“You don’t want that?” Jack watched her, waiting for her complaint against the council. It didn’t come.
“It’s a good spot.” The smooth skin between her eyebrows pleated. “It could work. But it’s so far from what’s going on in town. My goal is to tie the opening of the sod house to a town event. That should build tourist interest and maybe bring them back to view future projects that I know the boys will create.”
“It would also be a talking point around town as the kids construct it,” Jack said, catching Alicia’s vision. He turned to his sister. “Do you have any sway with the mayor or council?”
“Not really.” Laurel made a face. “Some of them still worry the boys might attack the town while it sleeps.” She grinned when the boys hooted with laughter. “They’d probably like it to be built out here.”
Alicia shook her head. “Sod houses are part of the town’s history,” she emphasized.
“Then I guess it’s up to me,” Jack said. “I’m a newcomer so I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” he warned. “But maybe I can persuade them to include a paragraph about it in promotional packages for the town.”
Funny how the sudden brightening of Alicia’s face made him happier. As if making Alicia Featherstone’s dreams come true was his job.
That told Jack he was getting
too involved. And yet, he couldn’t deny Alicia’s project intrigued him. He liked that it would involve the Lives boys in a very positive way. Even better, he’d be part of teaching cooperation and how to make something worthwhile.
But was the real reason Jack was anxious to get started on the sod house because he was looking forward to getting to know Alicia Featherstone more personally? While the others enjoyed Laurel’s buffet of snacks, Jack searched his heart.
The day he’d buried Simone lay too sharp in his memory, the awful gutting of his heart too painful to repeat. He could never again allow any woman to become that special, because he knew he could never again survive the grief. He’d only survived this time because Giselle needed him.
And yet—
At the end of their meeting, long after he’d dropped Alicia at her door, hours after he’d finished a steaming latte on his deck, Jack couldn’t quite dismiss the memory of her dark eyes brimming with excitement.
Nor could he forget the pathos he’d heard in her voice when she’d been talking on the phone earlier.
I never imagined it would be so difficult to uncover an adoption.
Alicia had said she was searching for someone. Jack suddenly wondered if Alicia might be looking for her own birth parent. Nothing else made sense.
In that moment his heart melted. Alicia was an older version of Giselle—desperate to know the people who’d given her life.
And Jack wanted to help her. He wanted it badly.
He wanted it so much he almost didn’t hear the voice in the back of his mind warning him that from now on, he’d have to keep it strictly business between himself and Alicia, create some distance between them.
For his own self-preservation.
*
“You are going to tell me the whereabouts of your half-breed kid.”
Two weeks later, Alicia almost dropped the phone as fear crawled up her spine. Then a part of her sleep-deprived brain repeated Nancy’s long ago calming voice.
You’re not a victim, Alicia. You’re a survivor. You know the truth now. God is greater than any man. He is your defender. ‘Greater is He that is in you.’
“You might as well tell me, Alicia.” The sharp edge in Mr. Parcet’s voice was like a rasp over her nerves. “We both know I always get what I want.”
“Not this time.” Unable to stomach his snide voice a second longer, she did the only thing she could. She hung up.
She got out of bed but couldn’t shake the chill that followed her as she dressed. When the phone rang again a moment later, Alicia ignored it, frozen by a thousand churning emotions, all of them iced with fear. Where could she go to get away from him? How could she stop him?
God?
There was a click as the answering machine switched on. Her whole body went rigid in anticipation of his sneering words.
“Alicia? It’s Jack.” After a pause he exhaled heavily. “Okay, I guess you’re out. I wanted to drop off the notes from our meeting the other night, but since you’re not there I’ll stick them in the door. Don’t forget we’re meeting at the coffee shop at four to strategize our meeting with town council tonight.” A pause, then he hung up.
Jack. Alicia’s heartbeat kept on racing, but for a different reason. The meeting at Laurel’s had been two nights ago and she still couldn’t suppress the tiny tremor that thinking of him always brought. She let the air whoosh out of her lungs and leaned weakly against the cool plaster wall, trying to even out her breathing.
As she focused on Jack, the dirty, damaged feelings revived by Mr. Parcet slowly slid away. She inhaled a cleansing breath from the pot of sage nearby, poured a fresh cup of coffee and carried it outside to her tiny upstairs balcony. There she snuggled in the tired old lawn chair she’d rescued and rebuilt, and savored the rich brew. She gazed over Hudson Bay, silently begging God to send His comforting peace and a way to break free of Mr. Parcet.
The train whistle signaled its arrival at the station. Alicia should be downstairs with her shop door open, ready for the morning’s business. She couldn’t afford to sit here, wasting time, trying to pretend her world hadn’t just fallen apart at its carefully sewn seams.
But she couldn’t pretend normal right now. Not after that call, not when he’d found her. She felt scared and more uncertain about her security in God than she ever had.
“Where are You? Why don’t You help me?” she whispered, studying the fleeting puffs of cloud as if they held the answers she craved. “How do I deal with him? How do I protect my child? Where is my child?”
No answer. Just that same verse kept running through her head.
Be still and know that I am God. What did it mean?
It was so hard to learn about God when she couldn’t read the Bible for herself. She closed her eyes and remembered that Pastor Rick had used that reference on Sunday. He’d said Jesus was sleeping in the boat and the storm roused him. He’d been angry and Rick had said He’d ordered the storm to stop. Rick had said that translated, the words “be still,” which Jesus used, carried a connotation similar to “shut up.”
“Meaning I’m supposed to shut up and let God handle it?” Alicia let the idea percolate through her brain. What was the verse Rick had used? Psalms 37:7.
“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices!” Meaning Mr. Parcet?
Nancy would say God was telling her He had everything under control so she should stop fretting. Easy to say. Hard to do.
Then her mother’s favorite verse from Psalms 131 floated through Alicia’s head.
“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
God knew all about Mr. Parcet. He knew her son’s whereabouts and He would look after her in His own time.
Alicia repeated the verses over and over, desperate to find peace. But though she tried to let it all go, tried to “shut up” and give it to God, her soul remained troubled. She had to learn to read because memorized verses were no longer enough. She needed to be able to search the scriptures for herself.
Unsettled, Alicia rose. Time to go to work. As she turned to go inside, she heard someone call her name. Jack stood below, watching her.
“So that’s why you don’t answer your phone.” He sounded depressed.
“Guess I missed it,” she said, secretly delighted to see him but puzzled by his attitude. “Where are you off to?”
He muttered something she couldn’t understand.
“Sorry. I can’t hear you. Wait a second. I’ll come down.” She left her dirty cup on the kitchen counter then rushed down the inside stairs and out the back door. An inner voice warned, Too eager, which didn’t temper her impatience one bit. “What did you say?”
Jack’s face was now a darker tan than when he’d arrived. In Alicia’s opinion it only added to his handsome good looks. Then she noticed his perspiration-dotted forehead.
“Oh, you’re out running,” she guessed. “I’m sorry if I stopped you.” The apology had barely left her mouth when she noticed what he was carrying. “Isn’t that the kite Giselle bought yesterday?”
“Yes.” He held it as if it was hot.
“Is something wrong with it?” she asked. “I’ll replace it if there is.”
“It’s fine,” he mumbled. Clearly he did not want to explain.
Since she hadn’t seen Jack in days she’d decided he was avoiding her. Which was understandable. She figured she wasn’t the kind of woman he was used to.
But that didn’t help her figure out how to control the crazy feelings that made her feel dazed whenever he was near. And she could hardly ask somebody for advice.
“I’m glad we’re meeting to strategize,” she told him. “I’m a little worried about meeting with the town council.”
“Why should you worry?” His tone offered quiet understanding. “They’re just ordinary men.”
“But I’m not educated like them. I never even finished school.” As soon as the words left her tongue she knew she shouldn’t have said them. She so didn’t want Jack to think less of her, and yet she knew he would if he knew she’d been raped and given away her baby.
“That must have been very hard for you.” He seemed genuinely sympathetic, which she appreciated. But he didn’t know the worst about her.
“I manage. Anyway, thanks for leaving the notes.” Not that she could read them.
Jack studied her as if he couldn’t think what to say. He shuffled his feet, which were clad in sturdy hikers. Alicia seized on the much-needed change in topic.
“New boots, huh?” she said, tongue in cheek.
“Yes, you were right. My old ones are no good around town, so I’m saving them for when I’m inside the hotel.” Jack didn’t give her the snappy comeback she expected. In fact, a muscle in his jaw flickered. “I have to go now.”
“Okay.” Alicia stood in place, mystified.
“Aren’t you going to ask where I’m going?” Jack asked.
“Um—” Puzzled by his tone, she shook her head.
“I’ll tell you anyway. I have to go figure out how to fly this stupid kite you sold my daughter.” He certainly wasn’t joking. His blue eyes were cool. “Because you entered us in the father/daughter kite flying event on Canada Day.”
“Because Giselle asked me to.” Alicia caught a flicker in his eyes. Truth dawned. “You don’t know how to fly a kite.”
“No, I don’t.” Jack looked embarrassed.
“It’s really not that hard.” How Alicia longed to chuck her responsibilities, go to the cliffs with him and show him how to fly the kite. Mostly she just wanted to ease his worry. But she had to work and, anyway, at the moment he didn’t look as if he’d appreciate her help. Encouragement was the best she could offer. “You can do it, Jack.”
“Really?” He huffed a sigh. “It’s probably a breeze for you, but I spent last night trying to get this thing in the air while Giselle was at basketball practice. I almost wrecked it.”
She stepped back, surprised. Jack grimaced.
“I know it’s not your fault, Alicia. It’s more that I’m finally coming to terms with how incompetent I am at being a father without Simone.”