Ben joined her at his front window, staring down the water to where Eli had just landed.
“I miss him, Ben. Every day, I wake up thinking I want to go and see him.”
“Sometimes we don’t get what we want, just what we need.”
Bryn kept her gaze out over the water. “He hasn’t seen me at all. I know he and Sara are together, and I know we shouldn’t see each other, but I feel as though he hates me or something.”
“Hates you? Nah. I think he’s confused. Trying to work out what he thinks. What he feels. But hate? No, definitely not hate.” His words invited the question: If not hate, then what? “Let me ask you something, Bryn,” Ben said. “What would it do to you if Eli came up here today and announced that he and Sara were engaged?”
Her eyes raced back to Eli’s plane, taxiing toward the shoreline near his cabin. “Engaged?” she managed to repeat. Her throat was suddenly dry. “Why? Did he tell you he was thinking about proposing?”
Ben didn’t answer. She could feel his heavy stare. “That’s what I thought.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked crossly, finally looking at the older man in the eye.
His smile grew larger. “That’s what I thought,” he repeated.
“Oh!” Bryn cried out in agitation. “So smug! Just what do you think you know?”
Ben reached out a weathered hand and rested it on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to pull away, concentrated on the nerve to keep meeting his gaze. “Bryn, that young man has been in love with you since you two were kids. And you’ve been in love with him. You better get things straight between you before it’s too late. Sara Cussler’s a fine woman. But you’re the gal for Eli. Always have been.”
Bryn felt as though she’d been struck. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t thought herself, of course. It was hearing the words from someone else’s lips. She shook her head. “I have no right. I have no right to waltz in here. To try and take him from Sara.”
Ben shook his head too. “Not sayin’ it will be easy or kind or even fair. But life, as they say, isn’t fair. We all have to stick to the road our Lord puts us on and follow his lead.”
“You’re saying God wants us together?”
Ben laughed under his breath. “Ah, no. I won’t wander that far afield. I’m just a man on a lake in the middle of Alaska who raised the occasional cub. A man who for years has watched two kids look at each other as though the other hung the moon. Makes me willing to say a word to you. As I will to Eli.”
The mention of his name made her take a breath, a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
She couldn’t make this move. No, it was up to him. If he wasn’t willing to act on the electricity between them, she certainly wasn’t. She’d nursed three girlfriends through heartbreak during her last years of medical school. No. Bryn Bailey was never going to be the other woman. Not if she could help it.
After he got his plane repaired, Eli asked Jamie to schedule him from sunup to sundown, which was getting to be very long days in the north country. He immersed himself in his work, striving to be the very best tour guide possible, spending an extra fifteen minutes out searching for that caribou or fox or moose for the tourists, scouting out new, remote lakes and streams for the fishermen.
He called the Forest Service station to get reports on the fire status for his hikers, called Fish and Game to get updates for his tourists. On a whim he gave a wooly fellow in town—a refugee from the seventies who referred to himself in the third person as “the man,” the man would like to build a Web site for you, dude—the go-ahead to begin, wondering if he was forking over several hundred dollars for something that would never actually come up on the Net.
He pushed forward on his goal to raise the remaining funds for his basketball court at the outreach center, hoping to draw the locals year-round. He met with the town mayor for dinner, several influential parties for breakfast, the church council last night. “You’re in a frenzy,” Leon had said when he returned to the office later to work on his logs. Leon was clearly puzzled. “What’s goin’ on with you?”
“Nothing,” Eli said with a shrug. “Busy summer, I guess.”
“Where’s Sara? Haven’t seen her around for a while.”
Eli cleared his throat nervously. “Sara won’t be around much anymore.”
Leon’s eyes shot up in surprise. “So that’s how it is.” When Eli turned away to go to the docks, he added, “You goin’ to be ferrying the doc around now?”
Eli paused, not looking back, giving him a half shrug. “Whoever is available. Just as we arranged with Housecalls.”
That Friday Eli was changing the oil in the Beaver when Leon came in, an excited look on his face. “What’s up with you?” Eli asked.
“Certified letter for the doc.” He held up a white number-ten envelope. “Looks official. From a hospital out east.”
Eli reached for it, turning the letter over in his hands.
“Mailman was hoping we could deliver it since she’s out at Summit this week.”
“I’ll take it,” Eli said too quickly. Leon’s face split with a smile.
“Things are getting clearer all the time,” he said.
Eli gave him a huff of derision and walked outside.
When the lake was in sight, Eli let out a long sigh. How could one woman have such a pull on him? Even if there hadn’t been a letter to deliver, he knew he’d be here this weekend. Near her if not with her. He couldn’t help it.
After setting the plane down and making his way up to the cabin, he dropped his gear and walked to the big window. As he stared across the lake, he knew he wanted to start taking her on her calls. To see Bryn in action. To be closer to her. To know if the thing he sensed, the track he was headed on, was the right one.
The CB radio behind him crackled to life, and he turned to answer the call. “This is Eli Pierce,” he said as he picked up the mike and pressed the button.
“Yeah, Eli,” came Leon’s voice. “Housecalls wants Bryn to head out to Donner. There’s a cabin about a mile from there with a woman who has a dislocated shoulder.”
“Okay. Did they give us a name?”
“Think it’s a guy named Harmon out there. Has a young Eskimo wife—she called it in.”
“Okay. I’ll get Bryn out there. Radio Housecalls for me and tell them we’re on our way, all right?”
“You got it. Over and out.”
Eli sighed. It was now or never.
From behind the windows, hidden safely in the shadows of the musty smelling cabin, Bryn watched Eli walk to his plane. He’d just arrived. Was he already leaving? Without even saying hello? After Eli freed his mooring lines from the trees and pushed off, he was in the plane and moving quickly across the lake. Toward her cabin.
Bryn frowned. He was coming across? In his plane? What should she be doing? She looked down at herself and groaned. Her shirt was soiled after her afternoon of raking the roof of forest debris. Soggy soil had left oval patches of mud at her knees when she bent to get the water flowing from the pump. And what did her hair look like?
What are you doing? She was not a girl waiting for her prom date! She was Dr. Bryn Bailey, on vacation for a couple of days from her work as a bush physician. She didn’t have to look perfect. Eli of all people didn’t expect her to look perfect. Her eyes shifted to the plane, rapidly crossing the lake, then to her duffel bag of clean clothes. No. She wouldn’t do it.
Squaring her shoulders, she opened the heavy front door and went to shore to greet him. Politely. No questions, she silently coached herself.
At the last moment, Eli shut off the engine and neatly glided into the rounded gravel of her shore. The prop slowed. Was he going to invite her for a ride? He emerged from the fuselage and walked down the float like a tightrope artist taking to a rope.
“Hey, Doc,” he said, flashing her a sweet, shy smile. “Housecalls radioed in. Wants you to head out to Donner to see to a woman with a dislocated shoulder. Since you’re here and I�
�m here, it looks like I’m your pilot.”
She gave him a rueful smile and wrinkled up her nose. “You just got here.”
“No problem,” he said easily, looking away from her. “Need some help with your things?”
“Nah. Let me just change into something clean, and I’ll be right out. My bag is ready.”
She ran inside and threw on a clean olive turtleneck, a fresh pair of jeans, and her hiking boots. Thinking of her night at the mine, she grabbed her parka. She shouldered her heavy bag and hurried to the Beaver, handing the duffel over to Eli.
He stowed it and offered her his hand to help her aboard.
“I’m fine,” she said, ignoring his proximity. She wasn’t going to touch him. Not if she could help it. Sara wouldn’t like it.
Once they were airborne, they settled into an awkward silence. Five minutes into the flight, they started to speak at the same time, laughed together, and Eli gestured for her to begin.
“Business has been good, I take it?”
“Good, yes. I get quite a few tourists from Kenai.”
“Won’t Sara be mad about this? You, instead of Leon, taking me?”
Suddenly he looked nervous and straightened his airman’s cap. “About Sara,” Eli said. He ran his hand down the zipper of his jacket. “Oh, I forgot about this.” He withdrew a letter from his pocket. “It’s a certified letter. Andrew, our mailman, asked me to bring it out to you.”
Bryn reached for it, noting the Boston address in the corner. When she opened it, she knew immediately what it was—the dream job she’d applied for those months before. “Eli!” she squealed. “I can’t believe it!”
“What is it?”
“Only the best job in the country. Boston Memorial wants me. They were my top choice.” It was thrilling, reaching this goal. But the thought of leaving Alaska to return to Boston made her oddly short of breath. She looked over at Eli. His jaw was tensed, and his gaze was focused on the windshield. Maybe this was what he’d hoped for, to get her out of his and Sara’s way. Maybe it was God’s hand, showing her the path.
Eli landed on the narrow, winding lake and then took her bag for the hike through heavy forest to a high mountain meadow. To one side, five llamas grazed. Bryn’s eyes widened in surprise, and she noticed the fencing.
“They must raise them,” Eli said under his breath. “At least those they can keep from the bears.”
The sounds of arguing emanated from the small log cabin, which was sheltered by several large spruce and neatly tucked into one corner of the meadow. A woman cried out as if she’d just been struck. Eli glanced at Bryn, frowned in warning, and said, “Stay close.”
They approached, talking loudly and calling out a friendly greeting.
“Hello?” Bryn added. “It’s Dr. Bailey, from Housecalls.”
The door cracked open. “We’re fine,” a gruff voice shouted. “Don’t know why the wife called anybody.”
“Heard she had a dislocated shoulder,” Bryn said. “Since I’m here, I might as well take a look.”
“I can fix it,” the man said. He edged out, a hulk of a man with a beard that reached his chest. “We’re fine. You two go on and head back to town.”
Bryn paused. “Can’t be often a doctor gets out your way. Why not let me have a look?” She gave him a sheepish smile and threw up her hands. “I’m in kind of a bind. Since the call was made, I need to check things out and make a report. If you won’t let me, I’ll have to tell my boss, who will have to tell the police.”
“You threatenin’ me?” The man came out and took three long steps toward them, his glowering expression making it clear she’d touched a nerve. Bryn fought to maintain her composure, stand her ground.
“No, no. Listen, I have some drugs with me that would make getting that shoulder back in place a lot easier on your wife. Please, let me see to her. You probably have other things you need to tend to, right?”
Eli moved up, a bit ahead and in front of her. He dropped the Housecalls bag from his shoulder. “Harmon, the doc here just wants to check out your wife. Why don’t you and I go take a look at your animals while the women tend to each other? I don’t know much about llamas, but from the look of them, you apparently do.”
The big man looked Eli over from head to toe. “I know you?”
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Eli said, walking casually toward the man, his hand extended in greeting. “Name’s Eli Pierce. My partner, Leon Wilmot, thought it was you up here near Donner. This here’s Doc Bailey.” He held out his hand as if Harmon had never been anything but welcoming.
Harmon stared at him for a hard moment and then reluctantly took Eli’s large hand, engulfing it in his own beefy paw. “Leon Wilmot, eh? Haven’t seen him in years.” He paused, obviously mulling things over. “You have an interest in llamas?”
Eli cocked his head. “I’ve an interest in anyone who can keep a beast like that alive up in these parts without them becoming a griz’s supper.” Bryn watched them walk away toward the long-necked animals, who watched them approach with wide, wise, wary eyes. Taking a deep breath, Bryn looked back to the cabin door, still ajar. No one appeared in it.
“Hello?” she asked softly, entering. She didn’t want to call undue attention back to them from Harmon. “Ma’am? I’m Dr. Bailey, from Housecalls. You needed some assistance?”
A whimper sounded from the corner, and Bryn whipped her head around. A dog? It sounded like a dog. There it was again. After coming in from under the high mountain sunshine, her eyes were taking their time adjusting. Then she saw the huddled form in the corner.
“Oh,” Bryn cried, and hurried over to her. “Mrs. Harmon?”
The small woman was rolled into a ball, as if sheltering herself, sobbing. “I call for help. Did not know if anyone … would come.”
“I’m here. I’m here,” Bryn repeated soothingly. How long did they have until Harmon came back to see what they were doing? A sense of urgency overcame her. “Ma’am, what can I do for you?”
The small woman raised her face slowly, reminding Bryn of a child wanting to say something but too frightened to speak, as if words might bring her more punishment. Bryn gasped. The woman’s face had been pummeled. Her right eye was swollen shut, and there was a cut to the left of her mouth where it had been split open.
She reached for her bag and quickly unzipped it. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Katarina.”
Bryn’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A Russian name?” Gently, she helped the tiny, round woman up and to the rumpled, unmade bed that smelled of sweat and grime.
“Yes. I am from Nome.”
“What happened to you, Katarina?”
“I fell.”
Bryn concentrated on looking for the Betadine, the butterfly bandages, and some Tylenol. “Must’ve been a nasty fall,” she said innocuously.
“Yes. It was.”
Bryn turned back and began tending to the facial wounds. “You have a dislocated shoulder?”
“Harmon wanted to put it back in place. That’s why he was angry. Says he can do for me anything you can do.”
“That’s okay,” Bryn said soothingly. “I’ll make you a sling to rest it for a few weeks. It’s best to keep it immobilized. Cold packs are good too. First things first though. I think you’ll need a shot of Valium to relax these constricted muscles. It’ll allow me to put the shoulder back in its socket.” Bryn looked to her bag to prepare for the intramuscular injection, conscious that Harmon could return any moment. She moved quickly, giving Katarina a shot, and then another. Then, as the medicine began to work, she checked out her swollen eye, gently palpating the bones around the nose and eye looking for points of tenderness.
“You’re lucky. It seems your eye socket is intact. Does this hurt?”
“Nah. Just swollen. It’s this shoulder.”
Bryn let her eyes drift down the woman’s neck, noticed the fat, black bruises that looked like fingerprints on Katarina’s brown skin. �
��While I’m here, Katarina, why don’t I check your lungs and listen to your heart?” She flashed the young woman a smile. “Basic checkup stuff.”
Katarina shifted away, gave her head a shake. “No. I’m okay.”
“Please. Gotta do it for headquarters. You know the drill. If I can’t fill out all the paperwork, I get the riot act from my boss.” She moved to pull her stethoscope from the bag, as well as a blood pressure cuff. “Standard procedure,” she added smoothly. “I’ll just start back here with a listen to your lungs and heart.” Quietly she lifted the bottom of Katarina’s shirt. “Deep breath.”
The woman did as directed, and Bryn raised the shirt a bit more, moving her stethoscope a little higher. “Another,” she managed to say, not really listening to the lungs at all. They were perfectly clear, but as suspected, her back was covered with contusions and scars from previous injuries. The sound of men’s voices approached outside. Bryn quickly placed herself in front of the woman and stared into her eyes. “Katarina, is your husband abusing you?” Bryn whispered.
A flash of fear passed through Katarina’s dark eyes. “No.” She pulled down her shirt as if in defense.
“Did you radio Housecalls because you need help in leaving here?”
“No!” she whispered hoarsely.
“We can help you, Katarina. Eli and I will help you. Right now. If you want to leave. Just say the word.”
“I can’t leave! I love him! This is my home.”
“I know. I know you must love him. But he has no right. No right to hurt you like this. This is not love. Not love like it is supposed to be.”
Katarina sat up a bit straighter. “This is the love I know,” she whispered, just as Harmon pulled the door open.
“You ’bout done?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes,” Bryn said. “The muscles should be fully relaxed now. Let me just pop this shoulder back into place and get the sling, then I’ll be out of your hair. I’m going to leave some pain medication—for her shoulder—and tend to the cuts she got from her fall.” Bryn kept working, not daring to look at the man, knowing her hatred for his actions would show on her face. She could feel his gaze on her back until Eli asked him another question and they stepped back outside.
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