Today was Thursday. That meant they'd leave Saturday morning. They'd have both Saturday and Sunday to spend together.
"I'll line up Randy to take care of things at work," Martha promised, and she spent all day contemplating how wonderful it would be to be on the Tabor again, just the two of them together.
But they didn't go. Nick stopped by the Bagel Barn late that afternoon. Martha knew as soon as she saw his worried expression that something was wrong, terribly wrong.
"Is it possible for you to spend the weekend in town at your apartment?" he asked tersely.
Martha took in his distraction, his rumpled hair and the crease between Nick's worried brown eyes.
"Why, yes, I suppose so," she said. "What's happened? Is something wrong?"
It was as though a knife fell between them, cutting their line of communication.
"Something's wrong, yes, but it doesn't concern you." He hesitated.
"Davey? Is Davey all right?"
"Davey is fine. Martha, don't ask me any more. I can't talk about it, do you understand?" His gaze raked her face, begging for understanding, but Martha couldn't give it. She didn't understand. And she knew that something momentous was about to occur and that she wouldn't like it at all.
"I have to go out of town," Nick said, biting off the words sharply. "I don't know when I'll be back."
"But what about going away on the Tabor?" Her disappointment was so keen that she felt like crying.
"It'll have to wait."
"Nick—"
"We'll talk later." For one long moment, Nick's expression seemed to beg her forgiveness, but then he turned on his heel and headed toward the cannery.
Randy noticed the tears in Martha's eyes.
"Martha, if I can help in any way," he began.
Martha shook her head vigorously. The tears threatened to spill over. "No, I'll be okay," she said.
"If you want me to close up the Bagel Barn for you while you leave, I'll be glad to," he offered.
"No," Martha said, and methodically and automatically she went about her usual tasks. She wouldn't cry yet. She'd wait until she got back to her apartment.
But when she finally reached home, she didn't cry. She was too angry for that. All Nick's talk about wanting to be open with her, about wanting to unreel his life so that she'd know everything about him, meant nothing if he didn't follow through by confiding in her now. He'd said that he felt like being completely open with her. If that was true, then why wasn't he?
Nick had convinced her that he loved her. She believed him, despite this new incident. Now more than ever she wanted to know his secrets. She had to know if she were going to make the decisions she knew she must face.
How could she marry Nick Novak when she had so many unresolved questions about his mysterious past?
* * *
"How's Davey?" Billy Long asked as he and Nick hurried through the creaky swinging doors at the hospital in Petersburg.
"He's talking now, Billy. He's making great progress."
"Is this because of his visits with the psychiatrist in Juneau?"
"That's part of it. But there are other things, too," he said, not knowing how to tell this man who was Davey's uncle about Martha and her effect on Davey. He decided not to mention Martha, at least for now.
Elsa Long lay in her hospital bed, each breath a painful rasp. She was covered by a white thermal-knit blanket, and her hands, worn and corded with blue veins, were folded across her chest.
"How bad is it?" Nick asked in an undertone as he stood gazing down at her small, leathery face.
"Granny is very old," whispered Billy. "I never know if she'll make it. Last time we expected her to die, and you know what happened. She made it through all right."
Elsa opened her eyes. "If you're going to say something about me, don't whisper. Say it so I can hear it," she snapped. Her voice was weak, but there was no doubt that she understood what was happening.
"Nick's here, Granny," Billy said.
"Nick," Elsa said. "Is Davey all right?"
Nick sat down by her bed. "Davey is fine. He's talking now, Elsa. Not a lot, but enough."
Elsa closed her eyes. Nick wasn't sure whether she had fallen asleep or was merely gathering her strength for more words.
"Something important," she said, her tone so low that he had to bend close to hear her.
"Yes, Elsa?"
"I want you to adopt Davey." The old woman paused and licked her dry lips. Her eyes pleaded with Nick. "Will you?"
Nick already thought of Davey as his. He supposed he'd thought of the boy as his very own since he first held him in his arms a few months after the accident. He didn't have to think it over.
"Of course I will adopt him," he said slowly. "Of course."
"You are a good man, Nick Novak," whispered Elsa.
Nick thought she had fallen asleep, but she opened her eyes again. "Take care of the arrangements now, Nick," she begged. "I can die happy if I know my grandson is legally yours."
"If there's time—" Nick began.
"There's time. A lawyer. Billy will find you one. I'll sign anything I have to if it means Davey will be your son."
Nick rose to his feet. He patted Elsa Long's hand awkwardly.
"Davey is already mine," he told her. "He's been mine for a long time now."
A hint of a smile passed over Elsa's lips. "I know," she said.
Afterward, when Nick and Billy were talking over a cup of coffee in the hospital cafeteria, Billy said, "You mean it, Nick? You'll adopt Davey?"
"I love that kid like my own," Nick said. "He's lived with me for more than three years. It's crossed my mind many times that I'd like to make it legal. I didn't bring it up because I thought it might be hard on Elsa. Yes, I'm going to adopt Davey."
Billy's relief was obvious. "I'm glad, Nick. Me and Gloria, we don't have much money. We can't take on raising another kid on top of raising our own two teenagers. For you to bring up my sister's baby when he's no kin to you—well, I'll always be grateful for your generosity, Nick."
"Don't thank me," he said, embarrassed by Billy's gratitude. Nick shoved his coffee cup away and stood up. "Let's go find a lawyer who can tell me what I need to do," he said, clapping Billy on the shoulder.
Nick called Martha that night. He had known she would sound cold, but he hadn't been prepared for her words to chill him like a dunk in the winter ocean.
"I don't understand anything," Martha said unhappily. "All I know is that this is the second time this has happened, Nick."
"I know."
"First you tell me that I'm the only woman you ever wanted to be honest and open with, and then you run off on some unexplained errand that takes several days. When will you be back?"
"I'm not sure," he said.
"Why aren't you?" She deliberately put the screws to him, knowing that he was squirming on the other end of the phone line.
"I can't go into it. Trust me, Martha, that's all I ask."
Martha let out a sigh of complete exasperation.
"Nick, I hate it when you won't communicate with me. We were doing so well together. Remember the utter frustration you felt when you would talk with Davey but he wouldn't talk with you?"
"Yes, of course," Nick said.
"Well, I feel the same way now. The worst thing is that you could talk to me if you wanted to, but you won't." She was caught up in the fervor of her own words. She so desperately wanted him to confide in her, but she felt as though she was failing in her attempt to convey her need to him.
Nick knew she was right. When she described her feelings, he understood all too well what she was going through. Yet he was helpless to respond the way she wanted.
"Martha, I love you and I miss you," he said, knowing that she expected more than love and longing. She expected honest communication, and that was much harder for him to give right now.
There seemed to be no point in continuing to force a conversation that could hardly be termed a conversa
tion.
"Love isn't enough," Martha said with firm finality. "Goodbye, Nick."
She hung up. Sadness, mingled with bitter disappointment, overwhelmed her. Faye had been right. Lindsay had been right. Everybody had been right except Martha, whose misplaced trust in Nick had only made her miserable again.
A knock sounded on the door. When Martha opened it, Faye scooted in. From the puffy look of her short hairstyle, she had obviously just come from the hairdresser, and she was smiling happily.
"I haven't seen your light on in such a long time, I thought I'd drop in and say hello. Dr. Andy and I came back from the boondocks yesterday where we saved a guy's life. He'd crashed his plane on Tilkotsu Glacier, and—but Martha, what's the matter?" Her smile faded when she noticed Martha's agonized expression.
Martha sank down on the couch. "Sit and talk with me, Faye. I need some TLC." Her futile conversation with Nick still echoed in her ears.
Faye sat down and regarded her friend with an expression of concern. "It's Nick, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes, it's Nick. He's gone away again, Faye, with no explanation and no questions allowed."
"It sounds to me like having a romance with Nick Novak is only slightly less painful than having a root canal," observed Faye with a wry shake of her head.
"You and Lindsay both tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen."
"I thought everything was going well."
"So did I. Apparently it wasn't." Martha paused, blinking her eyes rapidly to hold back the tears as she remembered yesterday morning when they had been alone at Williwaw Lodge and they'd made love so sweetly and tenderly. How could she have been wrong about him?
"Martha, it sounds like he only wanted a playmate while you wanted a soul mate, and never the twain shall mate. What are you going to do? "
"Go back to San Francisco the way I originally intended."
"You mean you thought you might stay here?"
"Maybe."
"And now you won't. Oh, dear." Faye heaved a big sigh. Then she brightened. "Martha, what you need is a distraction. And do I ever have one for you. You know those nine other men in Alaska who are supposed to be yours? Well, one of them is looking for a date tonight, and there's no reason why it can't be you. He's not an Alaskan but what does it matter? Why don't you get dressed up, and we'll go out on the town."
"Faye, no. I don't feel like it."
Faye grabbed Martha's hand and pulled her to her feet. "Of course you feel like it. These two fellows are brothers of the pilot whose life Dr. Andy and I saved this week. They're here in Ketchikan waiting to catch a flight out of town tomorrow. One is almost my age, and one is considerably younger. I was going to take the younger one," she said with a twinkle, "but you can have him."
"Nick might call," Martha said, although she doubted it. And she wasn't at all sure she wanted to talk with him in light of what she was beginning to regard as her firm decision to return to San Francisco.
"It would do Nick good to wonder where you are. Go put on one of those pretty dresses you never wear anymore." She gave Martha a shove toward the bedroom.
"I'll be back to get you later," Faye called as she left. "And I'll have Lloyd and Greg with me, so be ready."
Martha tried her best to force her hair to lie in its former smooth, uncurly state. She daubed her eyelids with shadow; she slathered her lashes with two coats of mascara. She put on a silk dress and, eschewing the carved ivory bracelet Nick had given her, slipped all her gold bangles on her wrist. When she looked in the mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she recognized herself as the person she'd once been. Unfortunately she now radiated a chic that seemed inappropriate for her.
The man Faye had provided was almost as tall as Nick, and he had blue eyes that lit up when she walked into the room. His name was Greg, he was an attorney in Los Angeles, and he frequently traveled to San Francisco on business. Besides, his ex-wife lived there with his little girl. Maybe he'd come to see her sometime when he was in town—after she went back to live there, that is. Martha forced a smile and wondered why she had let Faye bring her along.
Faye was obviously smitten with Lloyd, who was also tall and also had blue eyes and who was clearly impressed with Faye's vibrant personality. While they were hitting it off so well, there wasn't anything for Martha to do but to talk with Greg, and although he was nice, their personalities didn't produce any sparks.
Martha's mind wasn't even engaged. She kept thinking about Davey and about what he and Hallie must be doing now. When it was seven o'clock, she knew that it was time for Davey's bath. When it was seven-thirty, she knew Davey would be telling Bear good-night. When it was eight, she knew that Hallie would be tucking Davey into his bed. And when it was nine, she knew that if she and Nick had been together at the lodge they would have been sitting in front of a brightly burning fire, telling each other about their day.
Her loneliness for Nick grew until it was a large ache around her heart. It didn't matter that they were in one of the nicest cocktail lounges in town or that they later moved on to eat at her favorite Ketchikan restaurant. It didn't matter that she was surrounded by people and noise and was the recipient of eager, seductive glances from Greg. She wanted Nick, and no one else would do.
Afterward the four of them went dancing, and Martha, unfamiliar with her high heels, stumbled over Greg's feet as she tried her best to follow his lead.
"I guess we just don't dance the same way," she apologized after she skewered Greg's instep with one of her spike heels, but he only laughed graciously and slid his arms around her again.
"If I were going to be here a few more nights, we could practice," Greg murmured in her ear.
She didn't respond because she didn't want him to get the idea that she ever wanted to see him again.
When the men took them back to their duplex, it was plain that Faye intended to ask Lloyd to come in for a nightcap. Greg apparently expected Martha to invite him in, too. She couldn't. She wouldn't.
"What should I do?" she whispered frantically to Faye as she mounted the steps together.
"Tell him... tell him you have to bake cookies," Faye whispered, so that's what Martha did.
"I thought maybe I'd get a taste of these famous cookies of yours," Greg said forlornly as his brother disappeared into Faye's apartment.
"Wait here," Martha said, and she returned with a bagful of the latest batch. "Here," she said, all but shoving them out the door.
"I'll call you next time I come to San Francisco," Greg called as she closed the door, but she didn't bother to answer. San Francisco seemed very far away at this point. She couldn't even remember what the place was like.
She sank down on her bed and buried her face in her hands. She loved Nick Novak. What was she going to do?
Chapter 15
Elsa Long died three days after Nick arrived in Petersburg.
No matter how much they'd expected it, her family wasn't ready to accept the fact that she was gone. Billy Long broke into tears, his wife Gloria sobbed, and their two children cried, too. Nick had his hands full comforting them.
Nick had consoled them once before, after the accident when Dolores and Hank had been killed, so he felt as though he was an old hand at this. He was the one who made the funeral and burial arrangements for Elsa. He was the one who paid for everything. He didn't mind, because he was jubilant over Davey.
Davey was going to be his. All the necessary forms for adoption had been completed and would soon be filed by the attorney. It wouldn't be long before Davey was really and legally Nick's son.
Of course, Nick had felt from the first as though Davey belonged to him. He wondered, though, how he would handle announcing that Davey was now his. Or should he keep his vow of secrecy? Should anyone have to know Davey's change in status?
He was well aware that plenty of gossip circulated around Ketchikan about the boy's origins. He even knew that many people considered him the boy's natural father. Maybe, for the sake of his own reputation, h
e should have set everything straight in the beginning when Davey came to live at Williwaw Lodge.
But he hadn't, and for good reason, too. He'd had to protect Hank and his family. Nick thought a lot of Hank's wife Jillian; she was a fine and lovely person. He wouldn't have hurt her for the world, especially when she was still grieving inconsolably over Hank's death.
Nick hadn't regretted what he'd done, at least not until recently. One thing was for sure, keeping Hank's secret had certainly landed him in hot water with Martha. She'd been furious when he'd called her.
How could he explain everything now? And to whom would he explain it all? Who could still be hurt by his revelations? Jillian, who now lived far away? The children of her marriage with Hank?
Nick tossed and turned all night, trying to divine the answers to these questions. When morning finally came, he still didn't know what he was going to do.
One thing was paramount in his mind by the time he stepped off the plane in Ketchikan. He had to reconcile with Martha before he did anything else.
He'd square things with Martha, but first he'd better catch some sleep. He was hollow-eyed and exhausted after everything that had happened in Petersburg.
* * *
"Hang in there," Lindsay said over the telephone.
"That's not what you said last time," Martha replied.
"Yes, well, that was before I knew you were absolutely crazy about the guy. It was before you went and stayed with him at his lodge—what's the name of the place?"
"Williwaw Lodge," replied Martha faintly.
"Martha, you know this doesn't sound like you. Living in a place called Williwaw Lodge where the only live things you see besides Nick and Davey and the housekeeper are porcupines and moose and where you can't even wear a decent dress."
"I've changed."
"I'll say. Anyway, if you've changed so much for this guy, and if you love him as much as you say you do, and if you're convinced he loves you—"
"I was," Martha said. Now she didn't know what to think.
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