by Kim Baldwin
“Yes, there’s always a chance. The doctors weren’t absolutely certain, but most people with Alzheimer’s don’t start showing symptoms until sixty-five or so, and Mom was diagnosed in her forties.” Karla had a hard time facing Maggie with the final admission. “There are blood tests for the particular gene mutations prevalent with most cases of eFAD, but I opposed them. Both for Mom, and for me.”
Maggie looked confused. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I don’t want to know if I have it. I couldn’t approach life the same way with that future looming over me, knowing I would end up like she did. And the tests aren’t a hundred percent reliable.” She felt like such a coward sometimes, but better that, she’d decided, than having to deal every day with the near-certain knowledge that she would lose her mind.
“But you’re saying there is a test that I could take, and Karson, too?”
“Yes. There’s one lab in Massachusetts that offers a commercial test. You have to have a doctor request it, though. And many won’t until you’ve had genetic counseling, to make sure you’re equipped to deal with the results. The tests are also expensive and not always covered by insurance, so you need to check on that as well.”
“How long does it take to hear back from the lab?” Maggie asked.
“Two to three weeks, on average.”
Karson began to cry. It was time for her feeding. As Maggie breastfed her, the silence lengthening, a look of resolve came over her face. “I have to know,” she said finally. “I have to know how long I have with her. I have to prepare for her future.” She looked over at Karla. “I’m going to see a doctor in Fairbanks about it as soon as possible.”
Karla looked down at her niece. “You’re braver than I am, Maggie.” Secretly, she’d hoped her sister would feel as she did—preferring to be kept in the dark and allow some reason for hope. Because if Maggie and the baby both showed the genetic predisposition for eFAD, then in all likelihood, she did too.
*
“Still only three degrees, and I bet it got well below zero again last night,” Lars reported with a grin as he shook the snow from his hat and coat. He’d headed down to the lake at first light, as he had every day for a month. “The ice is definitely thick enough for the plane now. You want to call her, or you want me to?”
Karla shot out of her chair, and Maggie and Lars both laughed. “She better be there and not off in Fairbanks getting groceries or something.” The wait had been excruciating and she couldn’t bear another minute of it, not when she left for home in only seven short days.
“The Den.” Grizz’s voice had become instantly recognizable after so many calls to Bettles.
“Hi, Grizz, it’s Karla. Is Bryson there?”
“Bryson? Hmmm. Lemme see.” His tone was definitely jovial, but her heart sank when he continued. “Sorry, she’s not here. She took off about fifteen minutes ago.”
“She’s gone?” Her elation melted away. “When will she be back, do you know?”
“No time soon. Skeeter’s taking her bookings for the next couple of days at least, maybe longer.”
Couple of days? “Well, that bites. The lake is finally frozen. Where did she go? Is there a problem somewhere?” Bryson had sounded as anxious as she was to get together again. Karla couldn’t imagine anything but a rescue mission or some other emergency taking her away for so long.
“No, no problem. Just said she had something important to do.” He paused for a few torturous long beats, then chuckled. “If you want specifics you’ll have to ask her yourself. I expect she’ll be charging through your door in, oh, twenty minutes or so.”
The burst of exhilaration made her woozy on her feet. “You’ll pay for that, Grizz. Thanks!” She hung up the phone. “She’s already on her way,” she told Lars and Maggie. “And look at me. Crap.” To the sounds of their laughter, she hurried to wash up and change out of the grungy sweats she’d been wearing for three days.
She was pulling on clean jeans when she picked up the sound of the approaching plane. The Cub buzzed the cabin, then veered off toward the lake. By the time she threw on her coat and boots and got outside, the noise had died. She met Bryson halfway up the trail and flew into her outstretched arms.
They hugged so tight that Karla had to fight for breath. Her heart was thumping like crazy. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”
“No more than I’ve missed you.” And then Bryson’s mouth was covering hers in a searing kiss that reignited all the passion they’d shared their last night together.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You know,” Maggie said in a low voice as she dipped another plate into the rinse water and handed it to Bryson to dry, “it couldn’t be more obvious that you two have something very special going on. Karla couldn’t stop talking about you these last few weeks, and I’ve never seen you so starry-eyed over someone.”
Bryson turned to watch Karla, who was currently changing Karson’s diaper. “Can’t argue there. She’s a wonderful woman. It’ll kill me when she leaves.”
“I think so much of both of you, you know that. Seems a damn shame that you found each other, only to be split apart. Have you talked about what happens after she goes home?”
“No. Not really. What’s there to say? I’m hoping she’ll come back when she’s able. And I can maybe get down to see her once or twice a year, and try to get to Bettles more to webcam with her. But realistically, can anybody hope to sustain a relationship with that kind of limited contact? I expect she’ll move on before long and that’ll be that. So I’m just enjoying the time I have with her. I can’t think about the future.”
“I probably already know the answer to this, but you’d never consider relocating to Atlanta? Not that I’d want to see you go, of course.”
Bryson tucked the stack of clean plates into the cupboard. “I’ve considered it. Long and hard. Sure, a big part of me would be willing to sacrifice just about anything to keep from losing her. But I’d be giving up everything else that’s important to me if I moved away from Alaska. A big city isn’t for me. I’d suffocate. And what would I do there?” Leaving the wilderness, her mountains, and the cabin she had built with her own hands was unimaginable, as was giving up being a bush pilot. “I’m afraid one day I’d resent Karla for forcing me to make that choice.”
Maggie dried her hands with a towel and wrapped one arm around Bryson’s waist. “I wish I could do more for the two of you, but I’ll have to settle for giving up my sister for a few days.”
“What are you saying?”
“Lars and I can take care of things from here on. Carry her home, spoil her rotten, and cherish the time she has left. But bring her back for Christmas and give us a chance to say good-bye, okay?”
Bryson grinned and kissed Maggie on the cheek. “Have I told you lately how fabulous you are?”
“Not often enough. Now get her packed up and out of here. You don’t have much daylight left.”
Bryson gave her another quick peck, then hurried over to Karla, who was settling Karson back into her crib. She wrapped her arms around Karla’s waist from behind and whispered into her ear, “Have you any idea what you do to me when you bend over like that?”
Karla inhaled sharply. “Mean. Mean. Mean,” she grumbled. “Why are you getting me all stirred up when we don’t have a chance for some private time to do anything about it?”
“Oh, but there is. Maggie suggested I take you home with me until Christmas. You up for that?”
Karla turned in her arms, grinning. “Really?”
“How fast can you pack?”
“Just watch me.”
*
They spent the bulk of the next few days in bed, with short forays out for meals and walks. On the morning of Christmas Eve, Karla was awakened by kisses and opened her eyes to find a breakfast tray loaded with her favorite foods. “Mmm. You’re up early. How did you do all this without waking me?”
“I tried to be quiet.” Bryson reached for a slice of toas
t. “But frankly, I’ve discovered you sleep like the dead if I thoroughly exhaust you the night before.”
“Night before?” Karla laughed. “Morning, noon, and night before, you mean.”
“Not that I’m getting tired of our routine, you understand, but are you up for a little adventure today? I’ve got something special planned. It’ll involve going up in the Cub, but it’s only a short flight.”
She’d probably never fully embrace the idea of getting into Bryson’s plane, but the prospect made her less anxious than it once did. She’d come to trust that Bryson’s skill as a pilot was exceptional. “That’s all you’re going to tell me, isn’t it?”
“Yup. It’s a surprise.”
“Okay, then. I’m all yours. So far, I have to say that your surprises have been more than satisfying.” She glanced meaningfully toward the bedside table, where Bryson had stashed the strap-on that had gotten frequent use lately.
Bryson’s cheeks flamed red. “Stop that. We’ll never get out of here. Now eat up and get dressed. Put on the warmest things you have.”
“Yes, ma’am. I so love it when you get all forceful like that.”
At first light, Bryson flew them to Bettles. She steered Karla toward a small building tucked behind the post office. The sign outside read Arctic Independent Outfitters.
“Oh. This is where you and Lars work, right?”
Bryson nodded. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
The door led to a small waiting area, with chairs and a television and a host of older magazines scattered about. At one end was a reception desk and a hallway leading to more rooms. An attractive woman Karla didn’t recognize stood behind the desk, talking on the phone. She was five-ten or so and athletically built, with shoulder-length brown hair cut in a shag. Probably in her early forties. She hailed Bryson with a wave and cut short her conversation as soon as they approached.
“Hey, Bryson. Long time.” When she rounded the desk and embraced Bryson, Karla felt a twinge of jealousy.
“Too long,” Bryson replied, hugging the woman back with equal enthusiasm. “You ready to give up your day job and join the competition?”
The stranger laughed. “No, and no. But we should do dinner before classes resume. Have a lot of catching up to do.”
“You’re on. I’d like that.”
Karla forced herself to smile as Bryson turned to make introductions. Her heart sank at the realization she wasn’t even gone yet, and Bryson was already making plans with an ex.
“Karla, this is a dear friend, Chaz Herrick. Chaz, Karla Edwards.”
Chaz stuck out her hand and grinned at Karla. “Really happy to meet you, Karla. Bryson’s told me a lot about you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” Karla returned the handshake. She wanted to punch herself for feeling jealous and resentful of the fact that Bryson had never mentioned Chaz. After all, what did she expect? She had no claim on Bryson. She’d be leaving the day after tomorrow, and Bryson would go on with her life.
“Everything set?” Bryson asked Chaz.
“Yup. Just like you asked.” Chaz winked at Bryson, who grinned. Karla felt another twinge of envy at their close camaraderie.
“I owe you. Come on, Karla. Let’s get you suited up.” Bryson took her elbow and led her toward one of the back rooms.
“Suited up? What’s going on?”
“I’m not taking any chances on you getting frostbite again.” Bryson showed her into a room filled with extreme-cold-weather gear—thermal parkas with fur-lined hoods, thick arctic gloves and face masks, and the white vapor-barrier “Mickey Mouse” boots designed for the U.S. military.
“Where are we going?” Karla asked as Bryson fitted her with an entire ensemble.
“You’ll see.”
Once they were both appropriately decked out, Bryson led them out the back entrance. Three dozen or more dogs, mostly huskies and malamutes, were chained beside small individual plywood dog houses. Another half-dozen dogs were hitched to a sled, standing off to one side.
Upon seeing the women, the dogs burst into a frenzy of excitement, straining at their chains and barking furiously.
“Oh, wow. We’re going dogsledding?”
Bryson wrapped an arm around her. “Okay surprise?”
“The best. I can’t wait.”
“Come on, then.” Bryson led her to the sled, which had a built-in seat in front, surrounded on either side by canvas to block the wind. Once Karla was comfortably settled in, with a thick lap blanket and her feet propped up on a cooler, Bryson climbed behind her to drive the sled.
As soon as Bryson put her weight on the rear footboards, the dogs went crazy, straining at their harnesses and barking to be underway. The sled bounced up and down a few inches, but stayed fast, thanks to a large metal claw-like hook that was deeply embedded in the packed snow.
“All set?” Bryson shouted over the cacophony from the dogs, as she placed one hand on the handlebar and reached down to grab the snow hook with the other.
“Let’s go,” Karla hollered back.
The sled took off along a well-packed snowmobile track heading north. The dogs were running flat-out, going twenty miles an hour, but it felt more like fifty. The only sounds were their pants for breath and the shoosh of the runners on the snow. In the distance was the Brooks Range. The days were the shortest of the year, the sun clearing the horizon for only a couple of hours before it disappeared again. When it could be seen, the world around them seemed always in twilight, with long, deep shadows stretching from every mountaintop and tree. Karla was almost afraid to speak, because she felt as though they were in some vast natural cathedral.
“Enjoying yourself?” Bryson asked after they’d gone a handful of miles.
She half turned to look up at Bryson, smiling and rosy-cheeked, the flaps of her fleece-lined bomber’s cap flapping in the breeze. The perfect picture of the confident outdoorswoman, blissfully content in her wild, untamed environment. “This is incredible. Thank you for arranging it.”
“My pleasure. We have Chaz to thank. She packed everything and got the dogs ready to go. Just sorry we couldn’t spend some time with her. I think you’d like her a lot.”
She doubted that. “I don’t remember seeing her name on the Web site.”
“She’s helping out, she’s not one of our regular guides. Chaz works for Orion Outfitters out of Winterwolf, leading kayak and backpack trips during the summer. The rest of the year she’s a biology professor at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks. We became best buds when I went to school there. Chaz is a lot like me—endures the city but flees to the bush every chance she gets. Every Christmas break she and her partner Megan come up and spend a few weeks in Bettles leading sled-dog trips.”
“Her partner? She’s gay?”
“Yeah. They met when Megan was a client on one of Chaz’s kayak trips. Megan was a vice president for World News Central in Chicago, but when they fell in love, she took a different job to move up here and be with Chaz.”
“How long have they been together?”
“Three—no, almost four years, I think. They went to Canada to get married a few months ago. I stop in at their cabin north of Fairbanks when I’m in the area.”
Karla went quiet, thinking about the similarities. This Megan had given up a great job and big-city lifestyle to move to Alaska for love, and apparently with no regrets if she and Chaz were still happily together. Could she do that? Change her whole way of life, leave all her friends and job behind and start over with Bryson and her new family here? Somehow, the challenge seemed less daunting than it should. Though her job in the ER was satisfying—she felt she was making an important contribution in people’s lives—it also took a heavy toll. Too many of her patients were victims of urban violence: shootings, stabbings, rape, bar fights, carjackings. She saw the worst of what people could do to each other.
Alaska’s beauty had soothed her troubled soul and helped her find the perspective she needed. The people here seem
ed to genuinely care about each other, so much they’d leave their doors unlocked to a stranger. Most important, though she’d only been here a matter of weeks, Bryson had completely captured her heart. She couldn’t imagine being happier with anyone else.
But even if she could make such a drastic change, what did Bryson want? They hadn’t discussed what would happen after she went back to Atlanta. Bryson seemed as caught up in their relationship as she was, yet she hadn’t asked for more than these precious few days together and hadn’t declared her love. Perhaps Bryson was this way with every woman she was involved with. Was she foolish to even be considering such a thing?
They were racing down a frozen river when Bryson laid a hand on her shoulder and pointed to a particularly spectacular group of rugged mountain tops. “Arrigetch Peaks. The entrance to the Gates of the Arctic National Park.”
“Arrigetch?”
“It translates as ‘fingers of the outstretched hand.’ An Eskimo legend says their creator stuck his glove here, and the frozen fingers turned into granite to remind them of him. Cool, huh?”
“Stunning.” The day was so clear she could see for miles in every direction. “How big is the park?”
“Thirteen thousand square miles,” Bryson said. “Roughly the size of Switzerland.”
“That boggles the mind. It makes me feel so small and insignificant.”
“Kind of the opposite for me. Native people have lived here for fifteen thousand years or more, and not much has changed in all that time. I half expect to see woolly mammoths and saber-toothed tigers around the next bend. Being here makes me feel ageless, like I’m part of the whole history and evolution of the earth. Like I’m making time stand still.”
Karla realized even more how much Bryson could never leave Alaska. It had formed who she was and was as necessary to her happiness and well-being as the clean air and crystal-clear water. If they were ever to be together, it would have to be here. Bryson wouldn’t be Bryson anywhere else, certainly not in a concrete jungle that rarely saw snow.