by D M Shepard
The way the woman implored with her round brown eyes made Rose’s heart throb. Penny squeezed her hand again then leaned over and touched her cheek. Rose nodded, bruised and lacerated lips stinging as she stretched them into a grin.
Though it took another few days, they released her from the hospital in Anchorage. They started the almost seven-hour journey in Miss Penny’s SUV. She’d never heard of the town before, but Penny told her they were taking her to a place called McCarthy.
That was her first introduction to Karen as well. The athletic, raven-haired girl rode in the back with Rose. She cradled Rose’s head against her lap most of the drive, while she stroked her face and neck. Karen kept her entertained by reading books or telling her stories. She fed her the liquid diet and pain medications the doctors prescribed as if Rose were a baby bird she was trying to nurse back to health.
Much like the sled ride, the summer scenery flew by in a blur. When Karen lifted her out of the back of the vehicle and set her on the porch of the old wooden lodge, she stood and stared in awe. It reminded of something from a picture book or fairy tale. The two-story log structure surrounded by small outbuildings in the middle of a clearing in the woods gleamed in the sun. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. The only places her parents could drive to were Wasilla or Anchorage. They lived in ratty pay-by-week apartments or hotel rooms that stank of urine and pot. Or usually, the back of her dad’s rusted-out Subaru when they couldn’t afford a place to stay. She studied every detail of the spruce forest swaying in the hot summer breeze, wondering if it were all a beautiful dream.
Her head throbbed as she worried that she was going to wake up on a pile of dirty clothes again in a closet hiding from her parents. Her knees shook, bowels rumbling. She gripped the post holding up the awning. The memory of what the man had tried to do to her with that snake-like thing in his pants made her queasy. She put a trembling hand to the stitches on the side of her head, still hearing the way the tub had echoed as he slammed her head against it.
Karen and Penny left her standing on the porch while they took her stuff inside. A hammering sound drew her attention away from her dark thoughts. She never forgot the first time she spoke to Ulrik. The tall, lanky teenage boy worked on a strange contraption nearby in the shade, while a huge, beautiful, furry dog lounged at his feet. The malamute’s thick gray and white coat ruffled as it panted in the summer heat. His inky black hair brushed his high, tanned cheekbones. Long lean muscles of his arms flexing as he wrenched a long piece of metal off with a tool and tossed it aside. He turned to look at her, then flashed her a broad smile.
Her heart fluttered and a lump came to her throat. Was he smiling at her? Had she fallen into some sort of magical tale? Like the ones Karen read as they drove out here? People acted like they liked her, as if she were worth something. No one ever treated her like this before. His face and gestures radiated warmth and kindness. When he asked her if she wanted to help him work on his sled, between his kind expression and the gentleness in his voice, there was no way she could resist. When he asked her questions, she wished desperately that she could answer. Something in his fathomless black eyes put her at ease, tugged at something deep inside her.
When his mother called him away to talk, her heart bubbled with joy when he trusted her with his hammer and left her with the beautiful white-eyed malamute. She always wanted a dog.
Was Miss Penny some sort of fairy godmother? Looking around again, she made a wish in her heart that she would get to stay here with these wonderful people forever, and never have to go back to her parents.
Ulrik and his older sister Karen treated her as if she were part of the family. She’d never known such love in her life. That coupled with the care given to her by Penny, the Iverson’s and the other families in the area, she began to heal from her trauma. As she grew, so did her crush on Ulrik. She kept it carefully concealed from the handsome, stoic young man who treated her with the affection of a younger sister, always calling her, “Little Besiini.”
*****
“Little Besiini,” Ulrik said, interrupting her revere.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, body tensing. She jerked her head around, looking for hazards.
“Nothing. We’re almost there. You looked like you had dozed off,” he replied. She sat up straighter, shrugging her shoulders and stretching her neck side to side. The frozen ice crackled and popped beneath the runners as they mushed toward the small cabin on the rocky hill overlooking the slough. Its tiny window reminded Rose of a single, beady eye; wary and suspicious as the humans and their dogs crossed the frozen river channel.
“It looks like everything is in good shape, but I’ll go in first,” he said, halting the sled and hopping off the footboards. He unfastened the dog’s harnesses, letting them run loose and sniff around. He held out his hand to Rose. “You bring up the rear, watch my back?”
“Gotcha covered,” she said, her stiff legs protested as she climbed out of the basket. She flexed her arms and pulled her Smith and Wesson free from the holster.
They approached the warped, gray-brown wooden building, scoping the surroundings for signs of animal or human life. Ulrik tugged the door open and peered inside the tiny one room structure. Scanning the interior, he gave her a nod. All was clear.
Crunching through the snow, she retrieved their packs from the sled. Glancing once more across the frozen spruce bogs and icebound creek and river channels, her skin prickled. She stood still, surveying the scenery. The desolate winter landscape stretched for miles. Black spruce trees bent under the oppressive weight of snow and ice, making strange, twisted shapes. Spiny willows poked out at every angle along the blanched, opalescent channels, their barren limbs crusted in glistening alabaster. Seemingly endless and infinite shades of whites, blues, and yellows reflected the brilliant sun in every direction. Even with her goggles, her eyes ached if she focused one anything for too long.
Loki and Thor continued their inspection of their cabin site, investigating every lumpy buried bush, rock and stump, occasionally hiking a leg to mark a spot.
She shook her head and dragged the smaller toboggan with the supply of wood, food, and skis across the threshold. Ulrik met her half-way and helped her lug it the rest of the way in.
“What do you think,” she asked, eyeing the tiny stove as her breath rose in a cloud. “Should we light a fire now, or when we get back?”
“Let’s wait until we get back,” he suggested, placing the sack with their food supplies in the cache high up in the rafters. “This cabin is so small, it won’t take much to heat it.”
The ancient iron stove stood opposite the window. Red-brown rust coated the metal pipe shooting straight up and out the eight-foot ceiling. The frosted, single-pane glass allowed some light to shine on the scarred and warped wood table built into the wall beneath it. Cracked from weathering, the wooden chair’s seat appeared intact. Across from the door next to the stove, a corner was partitioned off from the rest of the room to make a sort of closet for changing—complete with an old orange honey-bucket. With the two malamutes, there certainly wouldn’t be much additional room on the floor. Rose’s cheeks grew warm as her eyes flickered to the bed platform against the wall, furthest from the door.
Would he sleep with her again tonight? Holding her all night long? When she had awoken this morning, cradled in his arms, the last thing she wanted to do was crawl out of bed and go look for Bryan. She wished she could have just stayed there all day. But she was here for a reason.
“Where to first?” Ulrik asked. Rose tore her eyes away, realizing she had been staring at him as he stored the gear they weren’t taking with them in the rafters of the cabin.
“Dan Creek,” she stated. Her cheeks burned as he cocked his head to the side, eyebrow raised as he gazed back at her. “Uh, that’s where those kids found some of his gear last fall,” she explained, shuffling her feet and looking away.
“Let’s go then. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back,” Ul
rik said pulling his face mask on as he strode out the door.
Rose sighed and glanced at the bed platform again. Good thing he can’t read my mind.
NIGHT NEAR HEADLESS RAVINE
Rose kicked a lump of snow and adjusted her goggles as she stalked back outside of the tiny shack. Loki wagged his tail, barking as he chased the small frozen ball and bit into it. She crossed her arms over her chest, head drooping. Her exhaustion made her frustration even worse. The long trip up and down Dan Creek, Copper Creek and May Creek, scouring the remote cabins, had been fruitless. Now with the sun sinking toward the horizon, they needed to head back to the cabin. There might be other clues buried under the deep alabaster mounds, but no signs of gear or remains in the shelters indicated he had come up these valleys.
“Rose,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. For the first time that day, his voice was gentle. “Don’t take it so hard. He vanished two years ago. Who knows what we’re not seeing with all the snow and ice. And scavengers could easily have scattered any bones. Anyone coming out here might have made off with anything that was worth selling off. Bryan knew the risks. People go missing all the time.” His breath came out in a cloud of golden sparkles in the alpine glow as he looked down.
“I realize that,” she admitted, putting her hands on her hips as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I remember how much we searched for Karen after she disappeared. We never found...anything.”
“You should understand that we’re probably not going to find much, especially after all this time,” he stated, looking back into her face.
“Yeah, two years is a long time,” she conceded. “I shouldn’t expect to find anything,” She coughed as she sucked in too deep of a breath of the icy air. Ulrik patted her back as they stood by the frozen creek.
“Why? Why are you out here trying to find him? He was always a douchebag to you and everyone else. A spoiled prick. Why are you risking your neck for him?” Ulrik removed his goggles, inky eyes boring into hers as he stepped closer.
Her breath came faster, lips growing colder as frost formed around the mouth of her face mask.
Didn’t he know? Surely Aaron had mentioned something to him too.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Because Penny asked me to,” she stuttered.
Ulrik was right, Bryan was always a colossal jerk, rubbing it in the rest of their faces that they were orphans and that they didn’t really have a home. Informing them whenever he could that nothing belonged to them, at least when his mother wasn’t around. Fortunately, being several years older, he left for college a few years after Rose arrived.
“What do you mean?” Ulrik asked. His knit face mask scrunched around his forehead, lips drawing in a hard line through the slit at his mouth.
“It was her last request,” she answered, voice cracking.
“That’s impossible,” he insisted, tone sharp as he shook his head. He gestured with his free hand as he continued to hold her by the shoulder, as if trying to convince her. “You weren’t there when she passed. She wasn’t coherent at the end.”
“She left a letter for me. I can show you when we get back tonight. It was tucked into her journal. You know—the one she wrote in all the time and kept track of all the kids she rescued. Aaron gave both to me last week, after the funeral. He said he found them in her apartment.”
Ulrik’s dark eyes narrowed to black slits. “Let’s go back. Now,” he ordered, tugging his goggles on with his free hand. Snow crunched under his boots as he gripped her by the arm, dragging her toward the sled. Loki and Thor barked and dashed circles around them.
“Ulrik, what’s wrong?” she asked, stumbling to keep up with his longer stride.
“I want to see this letter Rose.”
“Why, what’s the deal?” she asked shrugging off his hand as they stopped next to the cargo basket. Loki bumped his head against her leg, eager to be attached to the lead.
“I was there the whole time. We found her on the floor, nearly dead, delirious. She never regained consciousness, that I’m aware of. She couldn’t have written you a letter in the hospital, not the week she died.”
Rose’s breath caught, “So you think that it’s fake?”
“Possibly. That’s why I want to look at it. Someone wanted you to come out here alone.”
“Aaron? He gave it to me. But why would he want to do that, Ulrik?”
“Look, let’s go back,” he said, putting both hands on her shoulders and squeezing. “The temperature’s dropping. We can talk about it later.”
She nodded assent as he helped her climb in.
*****
Back at the service cabin, Rose immediately lit a fire while Ulrik got their packs down from the rafters.
“Tell you what,” he suggested. “I’ll start cooking, if you’ll dig out the diary and the letter you told me about.”
“Sure,” she replied, adjusting the flu so the fire would draw. Her sore leg muscles protested as she stood up. She glanced out of the window at the views of the creek and river dissolving in the twilight. The valley and forest had faded from blinding diamond white to muted shades of blues, violets and lavenders with the setting sun.
“What is it?” Ulrik asked, looking up from where he pulled a pan and packets of food from his pack.
She shrugged. “I guess I am still on edge after last night. That thing in the cabin. That—that was strange.”
“It was, but try not to worry. The dogs will let us know if there are any problems. Besides,” he said with a shrug as he placed the pot on the trivet, “that was all the way on the other side of the river. I shot it. No way that creepy thing followed us all the way over here.”
She nodded and started rummaging through her pack. She handed him the bottle of Macallan from Penny’s. “Here, I brought this along. I figured we could have a splash more while we plan for tomorrow.”
“That sounds fantastic,” he said. Rose’s knees grew weak as his fingers brushed hers. His onyx eyes widened, Adam’s apple bobbing before he looked away. He gripped the bottle with his long fingers. The cork made a loud pop as he yanked it free. Rose watched, mesmerized by the sparkle of the amber liquid as it flowed into the two metal tumblers.
She pulled the old diary out of her bag, hands trembling as she clutched the old leather. She stared at the faded silver lettering on the front: Penelope Dolinsky, McCarthy, AK
Was it a trick? Something Aaron made up just to get me out here alone? Why would he do that? She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” Ulrik asked, putting his hands over hers. Her heart began to hammer at his touch.
“I feel so stupid,” she gazed up into his eyes, willing herself to keep her emotions together. “I never questioned it when he gave the journal to me at the funeral. I mean, why would I? But you’re right, how would she have written a letter in the hospital, saved it in her journal, then left it among her things at her apartment?”
Ulrik grimaced. “I’ve never liked him. I’m not going to lie. And I don’t trust him. Not as far as I can throw him. Him—or the rest of his family. They’ve lived out here a long time. Several generations. They’ve made a name for themselves, screwing people over out here. There’s a reason most people hesitate to have anything to do with the Walker family.” He stopped and took a drink.
“Do you still think he had something to do with Karen disappearing?” she asked. She handed him the diary and the letter. He took her by the arm and led her over to the mattress platform. The bench creaked as she plopped down. He dragged the chair over next to it. Before sitting down, he lit the small white gas lantern and hung it on a hook above the bed. The lamp cast a soft white light on the cozy space and provided additional heat. He passed her a tumbler of whiskey, then picked up his own.
“I don’t know Little Besiini,” he said, shaking his head. He ran his fingers through his glossy black locks, staring down at the floor. “Mom said that she had been hanging out with him. When sh
e would come in from Fairbanks to visit on breaks from school, they would go out for walks together or have a drink at the Iverson’s. Maybe I’m being prejudiced. Something about him always just set me on edge.” He took a long swig of his whiskey.
“But I remember when she went missing, you punched him out. Why’d you do that?” she asked, leaning closer, putting her hand on his arm.
“They were dating. He made such a big deal about how much he cared, and yet...” his voice lowered to almost a growl, seeming to echo off the walls. Loki and Thor perked up at the sound. “He was the first to give up. People came from all over to search for her, so many people loved her.”
“She was a wonderful person,” Rose agreed. She squeezed his hand. She could feel him tremble as he balled up his fist. “I still miss her. She was like a big sister to me.”
“The guy who ‘loved’ her couldn’t be bothered to hike a few miles and bring her home. If not safe and sound, find her body, so she could be buried by her family. If it was the woman I loved, I wouldn’t stop hunting for her until I was sure, or I was dead. I just couldn’t.” His voice trailed off as his dark eyes stared into her own. She swallowed hard, heat rising in her own body. He looked down at his glass. “I guess that’s why I lost it. I’m glad dad stopped me when he did, or I would have really been in trouble.”
“Yeah, Aaron isn’t a very big guy. I could probably take him in a fight,” she joked, trying to ease the tension.
He reached out and mussed her hair, as he smiled. “Still, I never hope you have to. Let’s take a look at this letter, shall we?”
The leather-bound notebook was flexible and soft from years of use. In contrast, the hospital stationary felt like crisp ironed linen where it was placed like a book mark on the page of the diary’s last entry.
Ulrik cast his thoughts back. What day did he and Dick come out here to check on Penny? The 11th of January. The journal entry was dated the 9th. It was possible that she had written it herself. He read the letter. No date, but the handwriting was a spot-on match to the writing in the journal.