“Rocky, are you ready to mate for life? With me?”
“I don’t know…”
Rocky saw her fear and amended his reply. “I don’t know about now, but I do know it’s you. No doubt in my mind.”
“Mine, either. So, if it’s forever, what are we waiting for? I’ve wanted you since… Well, I can’t pinpoint the minute, but I do know it didn’t even take 24 hours to know how special you were. It took a few more hours to realize that I didn’t want to lose you. Shoot! And now, I even like the food around here.”
“You don’t have much choice, but you still haven’t tried muktuk,” he said, then kissed her neck.
“Only because there isn’t any around yet. Just wait until they bring in the first bowhead. I’ll show you that I’m not afraid of the unknown.”
Rocky moved her hand back on his zipper. “Why don’t you show me now?”
X’s eyes widened. “You’re not talking about muktuk, are you?”
A groan escaped as Rocky arched his back, filling her hand. “Nope.”
“Looks like you rose to the challenge first. Now it’s my turn.”
Zippp…
Chapter 9
X arched her back, not even trying to contain her groan of satisfaction. According to tradition—at least, the way she chose to believe it—she was now Mrs. Sergei Rachmaninoff. Even if the two of them didn’t spend the rest of their lives in Barrow, they’d be together. Forever.
Mated for life.
“You know what I’d really like?” she said.
Rocky stretched and yawned, mimicking her guttural purr, then picked up her hand and kissed the faded spot on her left wrist where her watch had been, the digits M4L still penned in with marker. He traced the midline of her belly down to her pubic hair. “You name it. If it’s mine to give, it’s yours.”
“Not that, silly,” she said. “Maybe later, when I can put my legs together again.”
“I think it’s more fun when your legs are apart…” He started kissing her neck, working his way down, watching her nipples harden in anticipation of more wedded joining.
X giggled and shrugged her shoulder up, blockading his attack. “What I’d really love is a cup of my fancy tea with a spoonful of sugar and a splash of canned milk.”
“Hmm… I used the last of the milk, but I can run down and get a can from Q’s store.”
“You’d better put on some pants first. I wouldn’t want you to make Q or the others feel bad,” she said, then chuckled into her hand.
“I’m just average but running naked through town in July isn’t a good idea, especially in the morning when mosquitoes are their hungriest.”
“Honey, there’s nothing average about you, not now and probably never was or will be. I’ll get the water boiling while you make the milk run.”
Rocky pulled his tee shirt on over his head, then bent down and kissed her upturned face. “I sure love you, Mrs. Rachmaninoff,” he said, then stepped into his jeans. “As soon as you say the word, we can make it legal in the white man’s world, too.”
“Okay, but I want tea first.”
“I’ll be back in a flash.” He paused at the door, slipped on his tennis shoes without socks, and sprinted to the store.
**
Rocky bent forward and caught his breath before he entered the store. “Hey, Q,” he said when his cousin came in from the back of the store carrying a carton of pilot bread. “Can’t chat now. Gotta get some milk for my lady’s tea.”
“Making a milk run—literally a run—for a woman you just met? Man, she’s got you by the short hairs!”
“Yes, she does. And I’m not complaining, either.” He set the can on the counter, pulled out his wallet, and gasped.
“What’s wrong?” Q asked. “I was just joking…”
Rocky pulled the paper out of the dollar bill part of his wallet and looked again. “What day is it?”
“Sunday.”
“I mean, what date is it?”
Q pointed to the poster-sized calendar covered with cans of various sodas. “July 10, all day long. Why?”
“Crap.” He huffed in frustration, looked down where his watch should have been and saw the inked-in ‘M4L’ that was identical to the one on X’s wrist. He looked up and saw the time on the big clock on the wall. “Is that the correct time?”
Q scowled as he looked at his cousin and best friend again. “Yes. Are you all right?”
Rocky didn’t have to ask what time the next flight to Anchorage was; everyone in town knew the schedules and when they changed. He had less than half an hour before the plane left. He could make it to the airport in time but didn’t have time to go home and explain what was going on to X, too.
“Do you have a pen and paper?” he asked.
“Yeah, sure.” Q pulled out the store’s daily journal: a dog-eared spiral notebook. “Help yourself. Just don’t tear out any pages with writing on them. I gotta finish unloading the truck. I finally have enough food to fill the shelves again!”
Rocky flipped through the pages, found a blank one, and wrote,
‘Gotta jet! If I don’t make this flight, they’ll throw me in the brig. I can’t call, but I’ll write and explain everything. Stay at Grandma’s while you finish the dig. You’ll hear from me soon. M4L. Love, R’
He folded it in half several times, reached behind the counter and grabbed the tape dispenser, and sealed the note. “Take this to Grandma’s and give it to X, would you?” he asked, waving the note in the air.
Q stumbled in with another box. “Yeah, sure, as soon as I get my shelves stocked.”
“No. As soon as you’re done unloading the truck, maybe. Don’t make her wait. I gotta… I gotta go. I can’t explain, but I’ll write.”
“Okay. But…”
“No time for buts,” Rocky said, and slapped the note on the counter. “Don’t forget!”
And then he was gone, sprinting to the airport to catch the flight to Anchorage so he fulfilled his contract of enlistment. The enlisting officer stressed that if he didn’t show up, they’d find him and put him in prison. The man’s eye twitched when he said it, and he could have been lying, but there’s no way he wanted to find out the hard way that it was the truth. He and X could work around him being in the army for three years, but being AWOL and in the brig, his credit ruined, a criminal record… that was too much for starting their married life.
“Bye,” Q whispered sarcastically, then went to the backdoor again, ready to load up the hand truck with the canned goods.
Dr. Jackson stepped out from behind the tall greeting and post card carousel, made sure the clerk called Q was out of view, then grabbed the love note to his hot, inapproachable intern written by her sassy Native assistant. He read it then chuckled softly as he grabbed the notebook. “Time for a little payback, hotshot.”
‘I got a better offer. Go back to the hotel with Dr. Jackson. He’ll take care of you. This would never have worked between us. R’
He quickly folded the note and hastily taped it closed before anyone caught him making the switch. He shoved the true note in his pocket just as Q walked in from the back with the boxes of canned foods.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“Just looking for a few postcards for my lady friends,” the professor said, then randomly pulled half a dozen of them out of the rack without looking at them. “That’ll be all.” He slammed a five-dollar bill down on the table. “Keep the change,” he added, then walked out with cards in hand, whistling in pride at his deception, then tossed the cards in the trash can by the door. “Payback’s a bitch,” he crooned, “and so are you.”
***
“You just made it, sir. We called your name twice and were getting ready to seal the door. Don’t you have any luggage or carryon?”
“Nope. Just me,” he said, biting off the comment, ‘And I’m not even wearing socks or underwear!’
***
X waited a full hour for Rocky to come back before she went to t
he store looking for him.
“Hey, Q,” she called out when she saw him stocking the shelves. “Have you seen Rocky? He left the house an hour ago to get canned milk and hasn’t been back.”
“Oh, yeah,” Q said, a blush of embarrassment rising as he remembered he was supposed to have given her the note earlier. “He said to give you this, and then he split. I mean, he really split. I knew he had some speed, but he four-minute-miled out of here. Hey, did you know he was captain of the basketball team? We won state regionals when he was in charge…”
X was only half-listening as Q babbled while she tried to unseal the note without destroying it. Rocky was usually so neat and orderly, but the note he had taped up looked like it had been done by a kindergartner. Finally, she took Q’s box cutter from the counter and slit the tape so she didn’t tear the paper. Her face paled as she read the words.
“No. No, no, no, no…” She looked at Q who had turned away from his stocking duties, more interested in the drama unfolding in front of him.
“No, what?” he asked.
“He didn’t leave, did he?”
“Yeah, he did. After he verified today’s date and the time, he scribbled that note and asked me to give it to you as soon as possible. Then he ran that way. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was catching the flight to Anchorage.”
Chapter 10
July 18, 2016
Utqiaģvik (Barrow), Alaska
“What then, Mama?”
“I waited with Grandma for almost a week, working on the dig sixteen hours a day until I could get all I had contracted to do finished. Dr. Jackson tried his best to persuade me to stay with him, insisting the benefits far outweighed my prissy morals. Finally, after the fifth day and no word, I called my mother, asked to borrow enough money to get home—pretty much groveled away all the self-respect I’d managed to build with Rocky—and stayed with her for a whole two days.”
“What happened then?” Krista asked.
“I found Grandma Lou’s phone number written in an old organizer tucked in the back of her desk. I called her, chatted until I heard Mom come in from her shopping trip, then realized I managed better with grandmothers than mothers. Of course, I did my best not to burn bridges, but Mom started with her drama queen performance, said I was breaking her heart by leaving again, that she had found the most perfect man for me, but I had to go with her to the regatta in Timbuktu or somewhere to meet him… Anyhow, I told her I got an offer I couldn’t refuse. I stuffed my ratty old kuspuk, a couple of tank tops, a spare pair of jeans and clean underwear in a backpack and I was gone—taking not much more than the clothes on my back and my reclaimed self-respect.”
“What was the better offer?”
“Your great-grandmother said, ‘Come as you are. I’ll take care of you.’ And that was that.” X paused. “Well, sorta. A month later, my period hadn’t started. I thought it was the stress, but at her insistence, I took a pregnancy test. Of course, I was all over the place with emotions: happy that I was going to have the baby I was told I’d never have; sad that I didn’t have your father in my life to share the joy with; angry that he still hadn’t contacted me…”
“Mom,” Krista interrupted, her hand gentle on her mother’s shoulder, trying to calm her down as she relived emotions twenty-two years old. “Did my father know how to contact you? Did you leave a phone number or address with Grandma or Q? Did you even think to call Q at the store and find out what had happened?”
“No… So much for certified genius, eh?” X shook her head. “It didn’t make a difference. At the time, my hurt was so intense, I couldn’t focus. I also had to find a way to raise a child on my own. I had renewed sympathy for those Native women the whalers and fur trappers had cozied up to, left them pregnant and with no man to help them. I took some practical classes on health care, then transferred a bunch of my credits and got a head start on a nursing degree. Pediatrics called me at first—probably because I had you—but then I transitioned into care for the elderly. The money’s not great, but the rewards emotionally are fantastic.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. When I see those old folks’ faces light up when you enter the room, it makes me proud. And I’m just your daughter!”
“Krista, there’s no ‘just your daughter’ when it comes to you. So, now you know. You’re half Inupiaq, half crazy white woman.”
“Mom! Mom!” Lars called as he ran up the hill. “Can I play basketball with these guys?”
“Go for it. Just be back to the hotel by…” She looked up at the sky and squinted, pretending to gauge the time, and pointed. “By the time the sun gets there or five o’clock, whichever comes first.”
Lars rolled his eyes at one of the oldest jokes in his mother’s limited repertoire. “Okay, but if it’s a tie game, I might be a little late. But don’t worry. No one’s going to kidnap me…”
“If you don’t mind, Mama, I’m going to take a little walk by myself. No offense, but this is a lot to process. In one way I’m glad you didn’t tell me when I was younger. No telling how I would have reacted.” Krista kissed her mother on the cheek. “Yup, you’re still a great mother. Oh, and as far as I’m concerned—even if it sounds less romantic or exotic—I’m not a love child. You were married—lousy divorce—but married when I was conceived.”
X bit her bottom lip and waved her daughter good-bye. She needed a cry by herself. Why hadn’t she seen all the signs? The note that was left couldn’t have been written by Rocky—it was too messy. Plus, he would never, ever tell her to go stay with Dr. Jackass. That self-absorbed philanderer had to be behind all this.
X walked through town, looking for old landmarks, checking out the new ones. A Chinese restaurant had come in, but the Mexican one had burned down. Q’s Market was still there, but she wasn’t brave enough to see if Q was still there. Or was she?
Before she knew it, she was in the store, bringing the cans forward and turning them so the labels were out, making the shelves look fuller than they really were. When she got to the chili, she checked the price. Still five bucks. Apparently, the cost of food in the Arctic north had caught up with inflation.
Woof! Woof!
X looked down and saw a black three-legged dog, his white muzzle and cloudy eyes verifying he was ancient. “Fish Face?” she asked.
“How’d you know my dog’s name?” The teenage female clerk asked.
“Well, I’ll be,” said the gray-haired man who had come in from the back of the store to stand behind his daughter. “If it isn’t Red Raven.”
“Q?”
“We’re having a special on chips and chili. Interested?”
“Do you have a microwave? That works?”
“Yes and no. Yes, we have a microwave, and no, this one doesn’t work, either. I never thought I’d see you again. How’re you doing?”
Unsure of how to answer his question X grinned, then grimaced, finally spared having to answer his question by her son bursting into the store.
“Mom! Mom! There you are,” said Lars. “You gotta see this.”
“Oh, okay.” She turned to Q. “I’m not going anywhere for a few days. I’ll be back after I check out what the excitement’s all about. Oh, this is my son, Lars.”
“Mo-om! Come on!” he said and tugged her elbow.
“Later,” X said, then followed her son, half-running, half-walking to keep up with him.
“Ah, man!” Lars groaned. “He’s gone. He was playing with us guys, spinning the ball on the end of his fingertip like a pro! And jump! He could jump and guard and shoot from the outside…”
“Yeah, and…?”
“He only had one foot! I mean, he had two, but one of them was chrome or aluminum or something like that. It looked weird, but it sure didn’t slow him down.”
“Hey, Lars. We need another guy. You wanna join us?”
Lars squinted up at the sky, pretending to tell the time. “Yeah, sure. I got a while still.” He turned back to his mother. “Mom, I know I sai
d I never wanted you to get married again, but I think I’d like him for a dad. He’s cool!”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve got an open mind, son, but I’m not looking.”
Lars turned to join his friends. “Just saying,” he called back.
“Hey, Mom,” Krista said, waving from across the street. “Stay put—I’ll be right there.” She looked both ways, waited for the four-wheeler loaded with baskets full of laundry to pass, then crossed the street to her mother. “I think I like small towns. At least, this one. No cell phones needed. Just go outside and look around and there you are. And Lars. I’m sure glad he’s doing something besides going cross-eyed with his video games.”
“You and me both. So, did you find anything interesting? A pick-up jam session maybe?”
Krista chuckled. “You know me too well. But as a matter of fact, I did. Come on over a couple of blocks. You’re not going to believe this. A baby grand piano. It’s practically as big as the whole house!”
X watched as her daughter told her story, Krista animated with her revelation, her hands talking louder than her mouth. “I heard classical music coming from this house, at full volume. It was so loud, I thought I was in an auditorium! I wanted to see what kind of speakers gave such clear tones. And when I got there, it was a little old lady on a baby grand piano, her fingers dancing across the keys, tickling out Variations on a Theme by Paganini.”
“By Rachmaninoff.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. And when I stood in the doorway, waiting for her to finish so I could tell her how much I enjoyed her performance, she turned and called to me by name! Except she called me her granddaughter. ‘Ah, my granddaughter, Krista! Welcome! I’ve been waiting for you!’ It was kinda spooky, but…”
Krista stopped talking and reached out to grab her mother around the waist when she saw her knees buckle. “Are you okay, Mama?”
X’s eyes widened as she looked up. The house didn’t look the same. It was nearly twice the size it had been. It had to be in order to fit the piano. Someone had extended one side of the wooden structure and added bright yellow all-weather siding, the once unpainted exterior only a memory. The front yard was tidy, a decorative wheelbarrow loaded with almost a dozen glass fishing floats. She looked at the scar on her palm, faded white but still visible, the memories of intense pain and the pleasuring that happened soon afterwards a tumble of emotions that crowded out the real world.
One Arctic Summer Page 10