Sharing Spaces

by Nadia Nichols

  But clearly the wolves were his love. His observations were keen and astute, and he even knew individual animals by sight, especially around Wolf River. There was a big black female wolf he saw frequently. He called her Raven, and noted that she was the alpha female of the Naskaupi pack. Senna found his entries about the wolves fascinating enough to keep her riveted to the pages of the journal.

  Had there been time, she might have called her mother, but now it was past midnight, and she still had a ways to go ’til she reached the last journal entry. Thus far, she’d encountered no mention of herself in her grandfather’s writings, though Charlie was mentioned frequently. Charlie had come back an hour ago, creeping into the lake house with Ula and settling onto the sofa for the night, both of them startled by her presence at the foot of the stairs.

  “Is that you, Charlie?” she’d spoken into the dark room, knowing what the answer would be but needing to hear it, just the same.

  “Yes,” came the somber reply.

  “Did you have supper?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Ula with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, then. Good night.”

  No reply. The jury was still out where Charlie was concerned. He certainly wasn’t very communicative. Where had he gone? What had he eaten for supper? She’d never know because he’d never tell her. He lived in a different world. They all did. She, Jack and Charlie, all flung together haphazardly, first by her grandfather’s life, and then by his death, the three of them sharing the same spaces but worlds apart within them.

  Senna set the journal on the bedside table, pushed the quilt aside and stood. She wondered where Jack had gone when he’d left the pub with that girl, but there was really no mystery there. He was spending the night with her. Jack was with Wavey. And why, exactly, should that bother her so much? Why should she be standing at the window in her grandfather’s room at the lake house, looking out at the dark waters where rain and sleet and snow kept the loons, Charles and Diana, from haunting the twilight with mournful predictions of a sorrowful future? Why should she be thinking of Jack when she should be counting the days before she returned to Maine?

  No reason, really, but she was….

  THE LOONS WOKE HER in the quiet dawn. The rain had stopped in the night and lying in bed Senna could see a few faint stars lingering in the westward sky before the pale light strengthening in the eastern sky erased them. It was going to be a fine, shining day. She stretched beneath the covers, glad for the wool blanket in the chill morning air. The journal lay on the bedside table and she reached out her hand, brushing the cover with her fingertips. She’d read the whole thing last night, learning oh, so much about a man she’d previously considered a stranger. There had only been one brief entry about her, and that was to document that he’d named her as his executor and Granville had made it official. No further explanation. Her disappointment had been intense, but that was the only thing about the journal that had disappointed. The rest of it could be published as his wilderness memoirs just as it stood.

  She’d call her mother this morning, right after making a pot of coffee. Too bad Charlie didn’t know how to make a pot of coffee. It would be nice just to lie here and smell coffee perking and the tang of wood smoke flavoring the air as he started the morning fire. He should be up to speed with things like that if he intended to pull his weight at the lodge. Ha! Chore boy, indeed!

  Chilkat snored at her feet, but not so loudly she didn’t hear Charles and Diana commiserating just off-shore. And then she heard something else. The deep, throaty roar, distant at first and then growing ever stronger, of Jack’s plane returning. Sleep was forgotten as she flung aside the bedding and leapt to her feet. She looked out the window in disbelief. Sure enough, there was the plane, dropping down and landing with a brief spray of water, then taxiing toward the dock. What on earth was he doing back from town so early? Senna fumbled to get dressed and had just reached the foot of the stairs when he came into the house, bursting through the door with a rush of cold air.

  “Morning,” he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world to meet her this way. “Coffee ready?”

  “Actually, I was waiting for you to get here and fix it for me,” Senna replied, following him into the kitchen.

  “Sorry, can’t stay that long.” He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the gallon jug of milk. “Gotta bring this along, Wavey has a kitten and there’s no milk at the lodge.” He shut the refrigerator door, straightened, looked at her square in the eye for the first time. “Goody isn’t coming. She’s taken a job on the Island working for a friend at some restaurant in Black Tickle, so I had to hire someone else. Her name’s Gordina Hutchinson and she’s very experienced. Cooked at a restaurant in Goose Bay.”

  “I know about Goody. Granville told me. And as I understand it, Wavey is Goody’s grand-niece.”

  “Grand-niece, second cousin twice removed, whatever,” Jack said with an impatient wave of his hand. “Gordina can’t cook boiled bangbelly, but I’m told she fixes a mean runny omelet. We’re damn lucky to have her, and Wavey, too. I didn’t think either of them would show up this morning.”

  “That’s good news. Wonderful.” Senna combed her fingers through her hair, wishing she’d had time to brush it. “Wavey has a kitten?”

  “Yes, and Goody couldn’t take her coopies with her to the Island so they’re crated in the plane, squawking and flapping and creating more organic matter by the moment. Twelve of ’em. It’s pretty queasy. Hope the smell goes away. I’ll take this load to the lodge and come back for you and Charlie.”

  “Fine,” Senna replied.

  “Maybe you could have the coffee ready by then?”

  “I’ll do my Girl-Scout best.”

  Jack grinned at her. He looked tired and a little frazzled, as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but of course, spending the night with Wavey would almost guarantee any red-blooded man a complete lack of sleep. He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back in two hours. Six o’clock sharp.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  He nodded and left, taking the jug of milk with him. It figured Wavey would have a kitten. Something fuzzy and adorable, something that cuddled and purred. Senna watched him stride down the dock, untie the cleat ropes, and climb into the plane. She felt Chilkat nudge her hand as she watched the plane take off and dropped her fingers to stroke the top of the old dog’s head. “A kitten,” she said, disgusted, then returned to the kitchen to kindle a fire in the woodstove and start a pot of coffee.

  The kitchen warmed up in jig time and she carried the first cup of coffee with her into the living room. Charlie was bundled in his sleeping bag on the couch sound asleep with Ula curled beside him, eyes open, watching her. She sat down at the admiral’s desk and sipped her coffee, sorting through lodge construction invoices, unpaid electric and gas bills, charge slips from a lumber company in St. John’s, an overdraft charge from the bank and a ledger that tracked hours worked but didn’t specify who had worked them. Great.

  She knew it was her savings account that was going to pay Wavey and Gordina, as well as all these outstanding bills…and there were a lot of them. She’d have to keep careful track of her expenses so that Jack could refund her what he owed. In the meantime, there was a pack of hungry sled dogs waiting to be fed. She’d pay these bills when she finished the dog chores, and, she hoped, everything would be in order by the time Jack returned.

  Chilkat once again supervised her trip to the dog yard and stood guard while she scooped out their morning meal. She was so preoccupied with a million and one lodge start-up conundrums that she forgot to be nervous about the huskies that jumped and whirled with excitement as she dished up breakfast. She even scolded one for trying to stuff its head in the bucket as she walked through its circle. Feeding done, she cleaned the entire dog yard, then made sure all the water buckets were topped off. She wasn’t surprised that she had to break a skim of ice on many of them. Last night’s rain had turned
to snow before it tapered off, and this morning the black spruce were quite beautiful in the dawn, standing at attention like frosted soldiers in the early light.

  Back at the lake house Senna called her mother and told her everything that had happened. “Your grandfather’s business partner sounds like he has a lot of energy for an old man,” her mother commented when she’d related their activities of the past two days.

  “Jack’s probably somewhere in his mid-thirties.”

  “My goodness. When you told me he was younger than you thought he’d be, I didn’t realize he was that young. How did he and the admiral happen to go into business together?”

  “Dad was his commanding officer. He accompanied Dad and the admiral on a fishing trip to Labrador, and, strange as it may seem, they struck up a friendship.”

  “Will wonders never cease. So you’re planning to help open the lodge?”

  “Showing that it’s a potentially profitable concern is the only way I’ll ever be able to sell my half of the business. Anyway, I thought you’d want an update. We’re flying back to the lodge this morning with our two new hires. God only knows how they’ll work out.”

  Her mother laughed. “All you can do is hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

  “Amen to that. Wish me luck, Mom. Love you.”

  As soon as she’d hung up the phone, it surprised her by ringing. When she answered she was surprised even further to hear Tim’s voice on the other end of the line. “I’m just calling to make sure you’re okay,” he said as if in apology.

  “I’m fine, Tim. Very busy,” Senna said with a pang of guilt. She hadn’t thought about him at all in the past day, though he was still obviously upset about their recent separation.

  “Listen, I know it might have been presumptuous of me, but I have some contacts in the insurance field and I sort of put out the word that you were trying to sell a fishing lodge in Labrador. Turns out one of my coworkers has an acquaintance who works in the real-estate division of Sotheby’s in New York City. He wondered if you could take some digital pictures of the lodge and e-mail them back. There’s a good chance he could find a buyer for your half of the business before the end of the summer.”

  Senna was momentarily taken aback. “Wow. That’s fast work.”

  “I want to help. You know that. No matter what becomes of us, I’ll always be your friend.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’ll try and get some pictures to you and a description of the property.”

  There was a pause, then Tim spoke. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I really miss you.”

  “Tim…”

  “I know. I’m hanging up now. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

  Senna hung up the phone and dropped her head into her hands with a moan.

  JACK STAYED AT THE LODGE just long enough to unload the two women, their bags, Wavey’s frightened kitten and the jug of milk onto the dock, and then carry the heavy crate holding Goody’s coopies up the steep ramp to the chicken shed behind the cook’s cabin. He invited Wavey and Gordina to explore the lodge in his absence, instructed them to start doing the things that needed doing, which he thought should be obvious, and then immediately got the plane back into the air. Senna would have the coffee ready, and he was craving a hot, strong mug. He’d spent a sleepless night trying to forget all his problems, and in the end he’d wished he’d flown back to the lake house, just so he could worry in his own bed. Not that Senna would have appreciated his company. She’d been glad to get rid of him, no doubt, and had enjoyed a nice peaceful evening at the lake house, though he’d noticed when he got the milk out of the refrigerator that she hadn’t eaten the steak and asparagus.

  An hour later, Senna was pouring him a mug of coffee while Charlie loaded gear into the plane. He glanced into the living room. The admiral’s desk was open and a considerable stack of envelopes was piled dead center. “Doing some paperwork?”

  “Paying bills, some of which are way overdue.”

  Jack avoided her accusing stare. “It seemed like everything came in over-budget….”

  “That’s usually how it is with new construction. I paid all the ones with the late notices. How does the mail work around here? You don’t exactly have a mailbox I can drop these into, and it’s important that they go out as soon as possible, before we have a collection agency breathing down our necks.”

  “We can post them where I gas the plane up.” He finished the last of the coffee. “I’ll go feed the dogs.”

  “Done,” Senna said. “Fed, watered, and cleaned.”

  “Charlie…?”

  She laughed. “Guess again. If he shows nearly as much ambition as a chore boy at the lodge, then you’ll be doing his job, too.”

  “Oh, Charlie’s okay. He pulls his weight, you just have to know how to motivate him.”

  “I’ll just have to take your word for that. Are we ready to go?”

  “Ready.”

  “When do you plan to move the sled dogs to the lodge?”

  “Chilkat can come with us now. I’ll set the dog yard up today and ferry the rest of them in tomorrow. Should be able to do it in two trips.”

  “Two trips?” Senna looked at him in disbelief. “All those big huskies in just two trips?”

  “Sure. We can pack ’em in like sardines. They don’t weigh much. They look big, but they’re mostly just fur and fangs. Let’s go, wedding planner. We’re burning daylight.”

  THE MARINA IN NORTH WEST RIVER carried aviation fuel, as most did in this neck of the woods. There was also a store that sold everything from chewing gum to pine tar and oakum, and they had a mail drop there, too. Jack filled the wing tanks while Senna posted the bills. He hoped she’d take a while, because Gilbert Truvo was standing on the dock rubbing his chin and working himself up to say something bad. Unfortunately Senna arrived just in time to hear every single word.

  “Look, this’ll have to be the last time, Jack. I know you got a plane to fly, but I got a business to run. You haven’t paid down your charges in almost two months now, and aviation fuel is damned expensive. I’m sure you understand. Business is business.”

  Senna’s expression never changed. She walked right up to Truvo, reached into her day pack and drew forth her wallet. “Do you take credit cards?” she asked.

  Truvo shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, ma’am, we sure do.”

  Truvo took the proffered credit card and shuffled off toward the store. Jack finished fueling, looking everywhere but in Senna’s direction, and wondered how he was ever going to make this right. Things were already worse than bad and times were going to get even tighter before enough money came in to turn the tide…if the tide ever did turn. He’d been broke so long he’d gotten used to it, but having Senna around had immediately cast a different light on eating fish five times a week and cutting new holes in his leather belt as his waistline shrank.

  Truvo returned with the itemized receipt of two months worth of charges, stamped Paid, and hesitated between handing it to Jack or Senna. Senna reached out her hand and he gave it over with an apologetic shrug directed at Jack. “Sorry, Jack, but business is business,” he repeated.

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “I’ll run you up a line of credit, like before, long as I know it’ll get paid.”

  “It will be, Mr. Truvo,” Senna said.

  When they were both back in the cockpit strapping themselves in, Jack glanced across at her. “I’ll pay back every cent,” he said.

  “I’m not worried,” she replied, fiddling with her buckle. “I spoke with a friend this morning who has an acquaintance who works in the real-estate division of Sotheby’s in New York. I’m going to take some digital pictures of the lodge and e-mail them back. He said there’s a good chance they’ll find a buyer for my half before the end of the summer.”

  “Great,” Jack said without enthusiasm, feeling more like a loser by the moment. “What’s this friend of yours do?”

  “He sells big insurance polici
es to big companies.”

  “Makes big bucks, too, no doubt.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” She turned in her seat and handed a brown paper bag to Charlie. “Candy bars and dog biscuits, just in case any of you gets a craving.”

  Jack taxied the plane away from the marina, hoping she’d expound on this mysterious relationship a little further, but Senna just gazed out the window at the little harbor. “What’s his name?” he finally asked, just before the plane lifted into the air.

  “Tim Cromwell.”

  “Tim?” Queasy, Jack thought, a guy named Tim who sold insurance policies. Well, that was probably a perfect match for someone who sold weddings to gullible couples. He shoved the throttle forward with an irrational surge of anger, and he was still in a surly mood when he put the plane down on the Wolf River an hour later. “Tie Ula up,” he growled to Charlie as the boy stood in the rear passenger compartment. “We don’t need her running off again.” He glared at Senna. “You’ll need to show Wavey how to clean the guest rooms and run the laundry equipment. I thought maybe she could get the linens on the beds, set up the bathrooms…”

  “I do know a little bit about back-of-the-house operations, Jack,” Senna returned, equally testy, as she unbuckled herself from the safety harness.

  “Wavey’s willing, but inexperienced.”

  “About some things, I’m sure.” Acid dripped from Senna’s words. She pushed out of her seat, grabbing her day pack, and prepared to disembark.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Senna paused. “I’m just wondering if she’s going to make a suitable housekeeper,” she said.

  “You think I can’t hire good help?”

  “I think you probably hire what suits you.”

  “I hired what we needed to get this lodge up and running,” he shot back.

  “What you needed, maybe, but I highly doubt that girl will benefit this lodge in any way, shape or form. Come on, Chilkat.” She dropped down onto the dock and climbed the ramp without a backward glance, the old dog at her side.