Hearts in Alaska

by David Horne

  "If it's still there," Sterling pointed out. "You've been here over a month."

  "Has it been that long?" Carter asked with a whistle.

  "Almost six weeks."

  "It doesn't feel that long," he admitted. "Something nice about not being beholden to the clock, isn't there?"

  Sterling grinned and nodded. "If you think your leg is well enough, I'll hike out with you, show you the way."

  "You could come with me, you know."

  Sterling's grin faded, and he looked down at his feet. "No, I don't think so. I'll wait for you, though."

  Carter snorted. "What, you're just going to camp out by the parking lot?"

  Sterling laughed too, and then shrugged. "Yeah, why not?" He thought about it a moment, and then said, "In fact, I think there's a campsite nearby."

  "You have to pay for that, you know. Do you have actual cash money?" Carter teased.

  "Oh yeah, I have some."

  As the two of them packed up for their trip, Carter learned that, not only did Sterling have some cash, he had quite a bit of it. His paintings had sold fairly well in his New York show as well as locally, and he'd had little to spend it on since buying his land and building his cabin. His eyes bulged at the wad of cash peeking out of a small safe under Sterling's bed.

  Sterling decided it was best to leave Larry at home this time, so he left the mink a bowl of water and a few fish. He could only hope that the house didn't smell too bad when he got back, and that the little fellow was content.

  The snow was gone completely, and most of the mud from the thaw had dried up. Only a few patches here and there were wet and deep enough to be dangerous. Sterling navigated around them, Carter just behind him. The underbrush of the forest was quickly thickening from all the rain and run off. Bright green ferns, some almost as tall as Sterling, dotted the landscape, along with grasses, berry brambles and sapling trees. As they made their way out of the forest and into the tundra below the mountains, Carter stopped in his tracks.

  "Beautiful, isn't it?" Sterling asked as he looked out across the fields of wildflowers.

  Behind him, Carter was digging out his camera. "It's gorgeous," he breathed as he crouched low, and started snapping photos. "It's the reason I originally came up here. I'd love to see it in the fall too."

  Sterling bit his lip and fidgeted with a tie on his jacket. "Well, if you give it a few more months..."

  Carter stopped what he was doing and turned to Sterling. He'd sort of been living day by day, without stopping to think of his long-term plans. Could he stay with Sterling permanently? Did he really want to live that sort of life? Despite his worries, he found himself smiling. Then he stood back up and threw his arms around the shorter man.

  "I'll be here," he promised. "I love it here." The words choked in his throat, startled by what he was about to admit. "I love you," he added, quietly.

  Sterling's face was buried in Carter's jacket, but he heard the words well enough. He tried not to tear up, but he couldn't hold it back. At first, he could only nod as his tears pooled on his lover's sleeve. Then he pushed back and nodded as he violently wiped them away.

  "You too," he croaked out, and then turned back to the scene.

  After an hour-long photography session that even included one reluctant shot of Sterling, the two of them continued back to Denali National Park. To their surprise, Carter's car was still in the entrance parking lot, and seemed untouched.

  "It might not crank up," Sterling pointed out. "We've had some cold nights since you've been here."

  Carter grimaced and dug his keys out of his pocket. Then he opened the door and left it open while he tried to crank the engine. It took some coaxing, but finally turned over. He slapped the steering wheel, and grinned at Sterling, but he could tell that part of him had been hoping it wouldn't work.

  With a warm, kind look, Carter said, "I'll be back in the morning. Don't worry."

  Sterling only nodded and waved as the man he loved drove away. He knew it was irrational to think he wouldn't come back, but then again, it had been irrational to think he'd stay.

  Chapter Eight

  Sterling's memory served him well. About a mile from the parking lot, there was a local campground. Though the season was still early, it was already beginning to fill up. He made straight for the campground office, hoping to avoid as many people as he could. The truth was, other than a once a year visit to the nearest village, it had been ten years since Sterling had seen this many people in one place. Here and there, the occasional backpacker or eco-warrior would give him a wave, and he'd simply nod curtly, and look away. No one seemed to mind, all out for the trip of a lifetime, and in high spirits.

  The campground was run by a tall, weathered old man, who looked Sterling over with the eye of a kindred spirit. "Been traveling a while, have you?" he asked in a gruff voice.

  Sterling held back a smile, finally finding someone he felt a little more comfortable with. Instead he simply nodded and asked for a space for the night.

  "Just one night?" the manager asked.

  "Hopefully," he admitted. "And could you make it a spot away from the rest of this lot?"

  The manager gave a thin, raspy chuckle and nodded back.

  Sterling's spot was on a grassy knoll, by a stand of trees. He was glad to get the heavy tent off his back, and took his time putting it up. He was enthralled by the rest of the campers and found himself stopping to stare multiple times. Most of them were around his age or younger, laughing and getting to know each other like they were one big, happy family. He couldn't remember the last time he felt that way, if ever. He'd never been a particularly social person. The way they did it with such ease clawed at his heart, though, and he realized he'd have no idea what he'd do if Carter didn't come back.

  ***

  Carter felt strange driving back into Talkeetna. In a way, it was like he'd just left, but in another, it felt like a lifetime ago. He went straight to the cabins, wondering what Wynona must have thought. Hopefully, she'd kept his things. He didn't bother going to the cabin he'd rented, knowing they would have rented it to someone else by now. Instead, he parked in front of the office, and went into the little grocery store.

  "Hey, Wynona," he called to the graying woman, who was busy stocking some fishing worms.

  "Oh, for the love of heaven!" she exclaimed. Then she walked over and threw her arms around him.

  Carter raised an eyebrow, and chuckled. "I didn't know I meant so much to you," he teased.

  She broke the embrace and slapped him on the arm. "Your mama called to inform us you were alive and asked us not to sell off all your possessions," she added with a wink. "More than I can say for you," she complained.

  Carter opened his mouth to tell her where he'd been but stopped himself. The prospect of telling her he'd found her favorite artist after all these years excited him, but he knew Sterling wouldn't want him to.

  "I hurt my leg when I fell down a ravine. There just happened to be a hunting cabin nearby so I've been staying there until I healed up. Luckily, it was well stocked. I guess I owe someone for some groceries," he added with a guilty smile.

  Wynona cocked her head. "Your mama said she hasn't heard from you, that someone else called."

  "Yeah, uh, it's near Ralph and Martha's place," Carter quickly answered, hoping the little old woman would know who they were.

  "Ah, well, I'm glad you came in to see me. I suppose you'll be wanting your stuff now?"

  "That would be great. I wouldn't mind borrowing your phone too, if you don't mind. I'd like to talk to my mom in person, so to speak."

  "Sure thing," Wynona said, and left him to his call while she went, and got his things. Carter quickly dialed the number, feeling nervous as he listened to it ring. When it picked up, he blurted out, "Mom?"

  "Carter?" came the breathless reply from the other end. "Is that you?"

  "Yeah, Mom, it's me. I wanted to call you myself this time."

  "How's your leg, dear?"

>   He smiled. "It's healing just fine. I hiked a good five miles today."

  "I'm so glad. Did you manage to get some good shots after all this?" she teased.

  "Actually yes. There were some beautiful ones today."

  There was a pause on the line, and then his mother asked, "Are you coming home soon?"

  "I don't know, Ma," Carter admitted. "I really like it here."

  "I know you do. You've been talking about Alaska for months, years it seems like."

  Carter looked around to make sure no one could hear, and then muttered, "Plus, I've met someone."

  "Oh really?" she teased. "While you've been shut in? Oh, you mean that man you've been staying with...Sterling?"

  He blushed at the sound of his mom saying his lover's name. With a nervous chuckle, he said, "Yeah." When Wynona came walking back out, he added, "Okay, Mom, I've gotta run. I'll call again soon. I'm going to try and get a new phone." He was grateful she didn't get all teary, and after he'd hung up, he turned to Wynona and asked, "Oh, uh, you wouldn't happen to know anyone in town that sells prepaid phones? I lost mine in the ravine."

  "Actually, I do," Wynona said with a smirk.

  Though Carter hadn't brought a lot to Alaska, it was still nice to have his own things back, especially his clothes. Sterling's sweaters were nice, but Carter was getting tired of washing the same pair of pants he'd had in his pack because his lover's pants were about six inches too short. He sat in his car, and slowly went through his duffle bag. Besides clothes, he had a journal, an extra battery and lens for his camera, and a few mementos from home meant to tide him over until he saw everyone again. A lump formed in his throat, wondering what they'd think of his decision to stay and when he'd see them all again.

  He took a deep breath, and let it go, though, before buying and setting up his new phone, as well as a few supplies he thought the homestead could use. He had to keep from getting carried away, though, remembering that they'd have to carry it all on the hike back to Sterling's cabin. By the time all of that was done, he knew it would be too late to get back by nightfall, but a thought occurred to him anyway. He stopped back by the cabins to say goodbye to Wynona, and then drove out to the park.

  He parked next to the office, with its showers, laundromat, and grumpy looking attendant asleep at the front desk. Carter only gave him a cursory glance, and then walked back out to the tent spots. At first, he didn't see Sterling, but then he spotted the tent he'd seen the man pack earlier that morning. He also spotted Sterling, wandering around his camp. It looked like he might be gathering wood for the small camp stove by the tent, but he couldn't be sure. His lover was known to do some odd things, after all.

  As he walked closer, his suspicions were confirmed though. As Sterling piled the kindling into the camp stove, Carter said, "You know, you could've gone into town, and let someone else do the cooking for a change."

  Sterling whipped around, startled, and startled Carter in turn. His mouth opened to say something, but instead, he dropped the rest of the kindling, and rushed over to his lover.

  "I wasn't sure you'd come back," he admitted.

  "What do you mean?" Carter asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Of course I was coming back."

  Sterling nodded his head back and forth. "Yeah, well. I didn't."

  "Yeah, but you never told anyone you were coming back, did you?"

  "I have a feeling I still hurt some people," he mumbled in reply.

  Carter wrapped his arms around Sterling from behind as he turned back to the camp stove. "I'm sure they'll forgive you."

  Once they'd cooked up the meager ingredients Sterling had brought for his dinner, they put the fire out, and snuggled in for the evening. It was just turning dark, but it had been a long day and another was coming tomorrow. Sterling had brought two sleeping rolls, just in case it turned cold, so the two of them shared. As they got comfortable, and Sterling closed his eyes, he felt Carter's hand moving under the blankets. It crept towards him and began to fumble for his waistline.

  Sterling gasped and reached down to stop him. "What, here?"

  "Why not?" Carter answered, playfully.

  "There's not enough room for that in here. Besides...people might hear!"

  His lover tried to hold back a laugh but ended up snorting through his nose. When Sterling glared at him, he nodded, and then began to laugh harder. "Okay, okay," he agreed. "Go to sleep, then."

  Sterling nodded and closed his eyes again. After a moment, he opened one, though, and saw Carter, lying on his back, but still chuckling. He clucked at him, and then turned over on his side, facing away.

  The next morning, they packed up bright and early. It was a little too early for Carter, but he was getting used to it. There was always so much to do on the homestead that it was a sunrise to sundown sort of situation. It also gave him the opportunity to take some amazing sunrise photos. The day was bright and clear, and warm enough that, before long, they were coming out of their jackets.

  "Summer's almost here," Sterling informed him as they hiked back across the tundra.

  "Already?"

  "Uh-huh. And once it's here, there will be a mad scramble to get everything done by winter."

  "Life really is all about the seasons out here, isn't it?" Carter mused.

  "It is," Sterling agreed. "Winter seems to last forever, and summer feels so short that all you really do is prepare for the next winter." He laughed, making it clear that he wasn't complaining.

  After a few hours, they were back at the cabin. Larry was nestled under the bench, and barely paid them any mind as they walked in. Carter unpacked his bag, making jokes about fitting into his own clothes, and then handed Sterling a sack of chocolate bars.

  "I thought you might like some junk food."

  Sterling buried his head in the bag and took a deep breath. "Oh God, I love chocolate so much." When he picked his head back up, Carter was holding something else out to him. It was a cell phone.

  "It has video calls and everything," Carter informed him, a kind, gentle sound to his voice. "They told me the reception isn't a hundred percent out here, but it'll do. I think you should call your mother."

  Sterling stared at the phone for a moment, and then slowly took it. He looked at it like it might be dangerous, and then shook his head. "I don't even know how to turn it on," he sputtered.

  "Here," Carter said, and led him to the bench. Then he showed him how to turn it on, and how to make a call.

  Sterling dialed with shaking fingers. As it rang, he wondered if his mother even had the program but, after a moment, she answered. It looked like she was in a kitchen, cooking, and didn't really pay attention to the screen at first.

  After a moment, when no one said anything, she looked down. At first, there was confusion, but then her eyes slowly widened. "Sterling?" she breathed.

  "Hi, Mom," he croaked, and swallowed back tears.

  She couldn't speak at first, only stuttering, "What?" and, "How?" Then she took a breath, and laughed, "You need a haircut."

  "Actually, this is the haircut," he answered, and the two of them laughed through their tears.

  Carter sat to the side as the two of them talked for an hour. They discussed everything Sterling had been up to, and everything that had happened since he'd been gone. There was no animosity in his mom's voice, and no regret in his. When it was over, though, Sterling handed the phone to back him, and stood up. He'd stopped crying a long while back, but suddenly started up again.

  "Hey," Carter soothed, and stood beside him. "It's okay."

  Sterling nodded, but he still rushed to the ladder, and climbed up to the loft, leaving his lover to stare after him, worried.

  Chapter Nine

  "It is marvelous, isn't it?" Davis Jackson said into the receiver of his phone. He was up and pacing the floor while he talked to his most prominent investor. "No, no, Paul. Don't worry about that. I've got that little problem under control. We'll have things up and running in no time." After Paul's reply, Davis
gave him a hearty, fake laugh, and then hung up.

  Davis Jackson sat down with a scowl, at the desk in his expansive corner office, over a hundred miles away from Talkeetna, in Anchorage. He was a burly man with gray hair that was all but gone on top. He made up for the aging process, though, by spending his substantial wealth on development projects and expensive cars. On his desk was his newest project: a holiday resort on the outskirts of Denali National Park. It was a risky venture, simply because it was so far away from the nearest town of Talkeetna, but it was a prime vacation location for the discerning traveler. He'd thought it was a brilliant plan. It would cater to both the rich and adventurer, and the area was sparsely populated. He'd thought that acquiring the land would be a piece of cake. It hadn't turned out that way, though. His scouting team had found the perfect piece of land. Unfortunately, there was one resident living on it, and he'd refused to give it up.

  Davis had never heard of Sterling Decker and, frankly, couldn't care less who the man was. All he knew was that this man was slowing his development plans. Alaska was a big place. He saw no reason why Decker couldn't simply build a cabin somewhere else. He'd offered him fair market value for his land, and even offered to have some people out to help him move. The man had refused to budge.

  Davis pushed a button on his intercom and called his secretary. "Amy, book me a flight to Talkeetna for tomorrow morning, will you?"

  "Yes, Mister Jackson," came the response.

  "I'll get this Sterling Decker problem solved once and for all," he grumbled to himself.

  The next morning, Davis was on the first flight out of Anchorage, dressed for the impending summer rain storm the news had warned about. Talkeetna wasn't really that far away, but weather wise, it might as well have been a whole other country. Davis hated these tiny little communities out in the bush and hated even more that he was having to visit one personally. He'd made up his mind, though, that he was going to push Decker off his land, one way or another. He was through playing nice with this man.

  The plane was little more than a bush hopper, in his opinion – ten passengers and two crew, and they had to board outside, in the wind and rain. He showed the agent his ticket and grumbled an unintelligible reply to her wishing him a comfortable flight. He doubted, very much, that any of it would be comfortable.