by Tricia Mills
I winced. But Shelikhov had, in fact, murdered hundreds of indigenous Koniag in order to establish Russian dominance on the island. Similar story as the one for the Lower 48, just different white guys coming from a different direction.
“Have you studied for the essay portion yet?”
Lindsay moved on to refilling napkin containers. “Some. I think I’ll be okay. Comes pretty easy to me.”
History was her favorite subject. She did well in it without really trying. She had a good chance of following in my sister Kristen’s footsteps to become a history teacher. That would certainly put her several notches above the rest of her family on the ambition scale.
“So, I have a question for you.” Lindsay stopped her tasks and leaned one hand against the booth across from me. “Any idea how milk got in Drew Chernov’s locker?”
“I think I tripped as I was walking down that particular hallway consuming my daily vitamin D.”
She barked out a laugh, the first I’d heard in weeks, and wrapped me in a crushing hug.
The ringing of the phone allowed me to breathe normally again. I studied my notes as Lindsay took someone’s order. Learning the names and dates and facts, which I’d always found interesting, held less appeal than it used to. Most things did. I thought of the untouched sketch pad on my desk, then refocused on my notes, trying to keep the image at bay.
“So, next question,” Lindsay said as she slid onto the end of the booth opposite me.
Before I could formulate a question, the front door opened. In walked Caleb Moore, alone. Lindsay slid out of the booth without looking to see who’d entered. When she saw Caleb, she started and turned to me. Her eyes had gone huge, and her body tensed. A sure sign she had it bad—nothing typically freaked her out like this.
“Calm down,” I said under my breath so Caleb couldn’t hear me. “Just treat him like any other customer.”
“Not that many hot customers come through the front door,” she hissed back at me before heading to the front counter.
True. Freddie McClain had passed up hot a long time ago—if he’d even ever been hot in the first place.
“Hey,” Caleb said with a smile.
“Hey.”
I hoped only I could hear the tremor in Lindsay’s voice because I knew her so well.
“What can I get you?”
His smile grew wider, and I’d swear I could see a blush beneath Lindsay’s dark skin tone.
“I’ll take an order of bread sticks and a Coke.”
Hmm, didn’t sound like a big, dinner-type order. Was it just an excuse to come in and see Lindsay? Did he regret how he’d allowed Drew to steer him away from her? If so, I had to give the boy some credit. Maybe by being new in town, he’d just needed time to figure out the lay of the land socially.
I tried not to be too obvious about staring as Lindsay wrote down Caleb’s order and called it back to Casey.
I watched Caleb’s face. He did have a nice smile, and his eyes seemed kind.
“I couldn’t work here,” he said as he leaned against the counter. “I’d be as big as a house.”
Lindsay quirked her eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that.”
He leaned forward. “Maybe I should see if I can get hired on. Then we’d see who’s right.”
Lindsay nearly spilled the Coke she’d poured.
Caleb chuckled. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Lindsay, poor thing, wasn’t very convincing. She couldn’t even bring her eyes up to meet his.
Caleb, however, didn’t take his eyes off Lindsay. I was surprised the undercurrent wasn’t visible. If nothing else, I believed he was genuinely attracted to Linds.
If Drew got anywhere near the restaurant in the next few minutes, I’d tackle him and drag him across Town Park by his nostrils.
I caught Casey’s eye as she prepared the order, and she gave me one of those raised-eyebrow looks.
Caleb took a sip of his drink but still didn’t take his eyes away from Lindsay, even when she had to pause to take another order.
“I thought of something else I want,” he said the moment she hung up the phone.
“Okay.” She reached for the order pad.
Caleb placed his hand over hers. “You won’t need that.”
I held my breath, and I’m pretty sure so were Lindsay and Casey.
“Oh?” Lindsay said.
“I’d like to take you out for dinner sometime.”
“Oh,” she said again, disbelieving.
“What do you say?”
Lindsay opened her mouth, and for a few seconds, she looked like a fish out of water. She glanced at me, and I found myself nodding.
“Sure.”
“Chow’s, tomorrow night?”
This time, Lindsay smiled. And I saw a joy in her dark eyes that I’d never seen. It made me sad and happy at the same time.
“Sounds nice,” she said.
“Great. I’ll pick you up around six.”
Panic flared on Lindsay’s face, and I knew what she was thinking. She didn’t want Caleb to see her meager home, which sat above the confluence of the Naknek River and Pebble Creek.
“How about we meet there?”
Caleb, agreeing, didn’t seem to notice anything strange.
By the time he left, I was about to combust.
Lindsay waited until Caleb walked across the park and disappeared before bouncing back to our booth.
“Oh my God! He just asked me out!”
I saw the look of worry mixing with her excitement—worry that this would hurt me. Just because I felt Spencer’s loss had left a hole where my heart should be didn’t mean my best friend couldn’t move on and find a shred of happiness.
“I know. I heard.”
“Eavesdropper.”
I let out a laugh. “Tell me where I could be in this building and not hear what you said.”
She met my eyes. “Is this okay with you?”
It took all the willpower I could muster to keep the pain from showing on my face. I pushed the idea of the dates that never were back into the recesses of my mind. “Of course it’s okay. I’m happy for you.” I just hoped it didn’t end in heart-break for her. “Of course, if he hurts you, I’ll have to run him over with a snowmobile this winter.”
She smiled at me, and that joy I’d glimpsed seemed to glow within her.
“You know,” Casey said from the doorway into the kitchen. “If I were a decade younger, I’d give you a run for your money. I feel like a dirty old woman saying it, but that boy is not bad to look at.”
“Good thing you are old,” Lindsay teased her.
“Careful, missy, or I’ll dock your pay for being a smart mouth. Or for flirting on the clock.”
Lindsay made a dramatic show of covering her mouth. Casey, who was only about thirty and very pretty in a natural way, rolled her eyes and returned to the kitchen. “Good thing I’ve got a hot date with a pilot from Dillingham tomorrow night,” she said over her shoulder.
No longer able to concentrate on studying, I watched as Lindsay waited on two couples I didn’t recognize. Probably tourists staying upriver at the Brown Bear Lodge. They smiled, Lindsay smiled. Everyone looked happy to be alive—and happy to be part of a couple.
I swallowed hard and looked out the window at the darkness cloaking Tundra. I imagined Spencer walking out of the darkness. But no matter how long I stared out into the night, he didn’t appear.
I stopped in the middle of the school hallway and laughed. Spencer stood with his arms outstretched, showing off a longsleeved white tee with a green leprechaun pursing his lips and the words “Kiss me, I’m Irish” emblazoned across the chest.
“What, not going to take me up on it?” he teased.
I pushed past him, wishing I had the nerve to surprise him with a monster lip lock. Instead, I kept my tone light and teasing like his. “Maybe if you actually were Irish.”
“Not even a peck on the cheek?” he asked as he followed me.
Not
even a peck on the cheek, because I would want so much more.
CHAPTER 16
After finishing my homework and chores on Saturday, I retreated to my room, feeling tired and restless at the same time. The low clouds and lessening of the daylight hours didn’t help my mood. How was I going to make it through the darkness of winter?
I stared at my sketch pad but dismissed the idea of picking it up. I hadn’t felt a speck of inspiration since August. My hand didn’t itch to wrap around a drawing pencil like it used to. Maybe that dream had died along with Spencer.
Other than textbooks, I hadn’t read anything in a month. So I sank down in front of my bookshelves and scanned the titles. I pulled Dana Stabenow’s A Deeper Sleep off the shelf. I ran my fingers over the title and tried not to think of Spencer. Even so, I opened the cover to the page where I knew I’d see his familiar handwriting.
“I think Kate Shugak is hot!”
I snorted, even as tears blurred my vision. He’d always teased me by saying some character, some actress, some singer was hot. As I looked back, I wondered if it had all been his careful attempt at flirting, to see how I’d react to him expressing interest in another woman, real or imagined.
“Oh, Spencer.” I closed the book and started to slide it back into its place between A Taint in the Blood and Whisper to the Blood. But a bookmark fell out of it into my lap—a bookmark I’d never seen before.
I picked it up and noticed a quote in script.
“Where there is great love, there are always miracles.
—Willa Cather”
Was this a sign?
I got to my feet and paced the room. At the window, I stopped and looked toward the imposing mountains. Was Spencer really dead, and his spirit lingering? Or was he still up there and somehow, crazily, our bond was strong enough that he could reach out to me?
Or was I losing my grip on reality?
I slid down the wall to the carpet and stared at the bookshelf. The bookmark was just a coincidence. Or had Spencer slipped it into the book when I’d bought it, thinking I’d find it and figure out how he felt? My heart ached that I’d not seen it until now, when it was too late. That the bookmark, like the note in my locker, had stayed hidden until its appearance could stab me with grief.
I ran my hands back over my ponytail and stared at the bookshelf, restraining myself from leafing through every book in the hope of finding other hidden messages from Spencer.
All those books had held hours of enjoyment. They’d each been the topics of conversations between Spencer and myself. That’s why reading still held too much of Spencer for me to enjoy the stories now. I doubted even new books would carry me away.
Plus, I didn’t think I was ready to step foot in Tundra Books yet. I feared breaking down, and his parents didn’t need that. I’d seen them around town some, but I hadn’t been able to force myself to speak to them even though they were like second parents to me. I wondered if they felt the same, because I knew they’d seen me on more than one occasion since the memorial service.
Why couldn’t a broken heart heal as fast as a broken bone?
I flopped back on the thick red carpet—which I’d wanted because it reminded me of those Hollywood red carpets—and stared at the white expanse of my ceiling. I couldn’t even go to Lindsay’s to hang out, because she was off hiking with Caleb. Seemed the boy liked nature photography, so they’d hit the trail along the river to find subject matter.
If only I had something to do that had no ties to Spencer. Hard to find in a small town like Tundra, when so much of my life had been touched by him.
As my mind wandered aimlessly, Jesse’s invitation to the hockey scrimmage floated to the front of my thoughts. I’d skipped it, of course. But the fact that the team had a game against Homer today wound its way up from wherever my brain had stored this information. Hockey definitely didn’t bring Spencer immediately to mind—even though he was never far from the front of my thoughts. Maybe the game would allow me to escape, if only for a few minutes. I could always leave and do something else.
What, I didn’t know.
I raised myself from the floor and pulled on a University of Alaska sweatshirt and a pair of blue Chucks. Not exactly a red carpet outfit, but there weren’t any red carpets at Tundra Ice Rink.
When I went downstairs and grabbed my jacket off the back of the couch, Mom eyed me from where she was preparing a casserole in the kitchen.
“Going somewhere, sweetie?”
“Thought I’d drop in on the hockey game.”
“Sounds fun. I hear they’re good this year.” She didn’t make a big deal out of my going, and I was grateful.
The difference in temperature between the inside of the house and outside made my nose run. The winter chill was sniffing at Alaska’s door, trying to find a way in so she could blanket the land with snow, freeze the Naknek into a rough sheet of ice, and invite long hours of darkness out to play. Already, wood smoke floated on the air.
For a moment, I considered going back inside. It still felt too soon to venture forth, to undertake an activity that wasn’t required to get from one day to the next. But the thought of returning to my room, of having to answer Mom’s questions about my change in plans, prompted me down the steps and out into the street.
It felt weird walking alone.
When I reached the town square, I thought maybe I’d just keep walking down some random road, skipping the game and the looks I’d no doubt receive. This would be my first social outing since the crash.
“Hey, Winter.” J. C. Watson, editor at the weekly Tundra Tribune, waved from where he was placing more papers in the coin-operated dispenser outside the newspaper office. “Going to the game?”
“Yeah.” Guess I was committed to it now.
“Hear the Homer team has a player as big as a snowplow. Hope none of our boys get hurt. I’ve got Chris taking notes and pictures for me.” Chris, J. C.’s son, was in my class.
The image of Jesse being slammed into the boards by a snowplow made me wince.
As I walked through the town center and down Aurora Road on the other side of the square, thoughts of Jesse accompanied me. Could I say he was a friend now? He’d certainly held up his end of what friendship was supposed to be.
But did friends have the types of dreams about each other that I’d had that night about Jesse? My skin warmed at the mere thought. I shook my head, hoping to dislodge the memory. The warmth zinged through me, and my lips tingled.
I reached the rink, an oddity for rural Alaska. If it weren’t for Tom Rutledge, the wealthy owner of the Brown Bear Lodge a couple of miles up the river, we wouldn’t have one. He’d made his fortune in Montana real estate before cashing out and heading to Alaska. He was a huge hockey fan and had built the rink for Tundra and nearby Jasperton, even helping teams afford to fly in for games.
As I stared at the testament to his love of the game, I considered turning around and going home or heading to the river—anywhere but here.
I sat beside Spencer’s bed, checking his fever by placing my palm against his forehead.
“Hey,” he croaked when he saw me.
“You do know April is a really dumb month to get the flu, right?”
“I don’t like to be ordinary.”
I rolled my eyes and poured him a glass of water.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
“All morning. I told your mom I’d sit with you so she could go to work.”
He smiled weakly. “Hey, I might get sick more often if I get a pretty, private nurse.”
CHAPTER 17
By the time I decided to enter the rink and prove to myself that there was nothing—and never would be anything—between Jesse and me, more than six minutes of the first period had elapsed. The score already stood at two to zero in favor of Homer. Even before I took a seat on the top row of the stands, I spotted the snowplow on the visiting team. Good grief, he was huge. It looked like it would take three of the Tundra/Jas
perton players to handle him.
I focused on the puck, wishing that little circle of hard, frozen rubber would somehow absorb all of the disturbing thoughts that plagued me. Of course, I noticed Jesse. It was impossible not to, considering how much he was on the ice. But I forced myself to watch all the other players, too, to try to guess what they might do before they did it. The game was so fast-paced that it proved difficult to keep up with everything that was going on.
Something weird had begun to happen to me by the time the first period drew to a close. I’d begun to “ohhh” when snowplow boy, whose jersey read Ooglichuk, knocked Tundra players out of the way like pesky mosquitoes. When Shawn Petterson made the first goal for Tundra, I cheered along with the rest of the parents and students in the stands. Instead of leaving as I’d originally thought I might, I wandered out to the concession stand.
Monica, whose brother Charlie was on the team, handed me my popcorn. “Can’t remember seeing you at many hockey games before.”
“Felt like getting out of the house, and Lindsay’s on a date with Caleb.”
“Those two seem to be hitting it off! I know some girls are mighty jealous.”
I met her eyes as I took a sip of my drink. “You?”
“Nah. I mean, he’s hot, but I met a guy online.”
“Really?” I scooted out of the way of the rest of the line.
Monica leaned closer to me. “Yeah. He’s from Togiak. When he sent me his picture, I almost fell out of my chair. On my honor, he’s the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen. I’m thinking about asking if he could come here for the Snow Ball.”
Evidently, Mr. Online in Togiak was hot enough to make her forget about her previous lusting over Ryan Davis.
Just when life had given me a temporary reprieve, the mention of the dance drained away any enjoyment. God, this was going to keep happening until that stupid dance was over.
“Winter? ”
I didn’t want Monica’s concern, so I dipped my fingers into my popcorn and acted as if her words hadn’t twisted my heart into painful contortions. “If he’s that hot, you better be prepared to knock off girls with Charlie’s hockey stick.”