Brides of Alaska

by Peterson, Tracie;

  After questioning one of the passing soldiers, August made his way to the tent of the commanding officer.

  “You need to speak with the area supervisor of the US Public Roads Administration,” the officer told August. “I’m certain, however, that you won’t be idle for long. We can use every man we can get.”

  “Glad to hear it,” August said and got up to leave. “I’m anxious to get to work.”

  “Then you’re in the right place,” the man said from behind his makeshift desk. “You can find the supervisor at the airfield. While we’re clearing this path, we’re also laying out new landing strips. Just follow the river to the crossroads and turn right. It’s just a half mile or so from there. Like I said, you shouldn’t have any trouble getting a job.”

  “Thanks again for your help,” August said and left in search of the airfield.

  As August walked the short distance down the river to the crossroads, he noticed how different the land was from his native Nome. The fertile valley made Nome seem barren. Tall spruce, fir, and pine weaved a rich green pattern across the land. Wildflowers and carefully tended gardens were visible reminders of the sun’s power in a land that enjoyed over eighteen hours of light each day.

  August had already been told of cabbages weighing nearly forty pounds and of cucumbers that were longer than a man’s arm and nearly as wide around. It was a land of many wonders, and August was only beginning to learn of its richness.

  The hike to the airfield did him good, and August breathed deeply of the storm-chilled air. All morning, thunder had rumbled in the distance, but the storm seemed to hang in suspended indifference over the snowcapped mountains.

  As August approached the airfield, he discovered that it was hardly more than a cleared path. At one end a windsock had been erected on a pole, and at the other end several tents and wooden buildings stood in sorry contrast to the grandeur of the landscape.

  “Excuse me,” August said as he approached a mechanic. The man was working on a large tractor, cursing and throwing tools as he did so.

  “Whadyawant?” the man asked, garbling the words together.

  “I wondered where I might find the supervisor for the Public Roads Administration,” August replied.

  “Over there,” the man said, motioning to the nearest tent.

  August thanked the man and walked toward the tent. Suddenly, an older man charged out, nearly colliding with August.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for work on the road,” August explained.

  “We can use you,” the man said enthusiastically. “Come on inside and we’ll talk. Have you any particular job experience that might help us decide where to place you?”

  “I can operate most of the machinery,” August admitted. “I helped to build roads in Nome.”

  “So you know the problems we’re facing with the permafrost.” The man continued without waiting for August to reply. “We have approximately eighty days between frosts and little more. Even at that, a foot beneath the surface the ground is always frozen solid.”

  “I know the dilemma well,” August said.

  “The army is in charge of the road, although the Roads Administration has some control because we work in cooperation with one another. Right now, a big part of our civilian effort is aimed at meeting the need for a bigger airfield.

  “Our problem is the complications with ground thaw and boggy surface water. Do you think you can render any new thoughts on the matter? With you being an experienced road builder in these conditions, I think you might have a suggestion or two that we haven’t considered.”

  “I’d be happy to offer whatever knowledge and experience I have. I’m too old for the army, or I’d be off defending our country in the war, so I’m open to whatever you have for me,” August answered.

  “Great. You can start tomorrow. Be here at six and I’ll show you around.”

  “I’ll be here,” August said as he followed the man outside. “Where can I find sleeping accommodations?”

  “That’s a good question,” the man said as he thoughtfully considered the matter. “I take it you didn’t bring a tent with you.”

  “Nope,” August said with a sheepish grin. “I figured you folks were more civilized over here.”

  “Don’t include me in the folks from these parts. I’m from Oklahoma, and this country’s a whole sight different from what I’m comfortable with. Your best bet is to ask around town. Some of the folks are bound to have an idea.”

  “I guess that’ll have to do,” August said with a nod.

  “Wish I could offer you more help, but I’ve only been here a week, myself.”

  “No problem. By the way, I’m August. August Eriksson.”

  “Good to meet you,” the man said and extended his hand. “I guess we’re a little lax on formalities around here. I’m Ralph Greening, the area supervisor for the US Public Roads Administration.”

  August shook the man’s hand, and after renewing his promise to return at six the next morning, he made his way back to town.

  At the crossroads, August noticed that the storm had dissipated and moved to the east. The clouds cleared out to make the vibrant colors of the landscape come alive.

  August enjoyed the breeze through his dark hair and the scent of pine as it penetrated his senses. He marveled at the blackness of the glacier silt dirt and wondered at the stories he’d heard of a glacier’s ability to physically move its location as much as ten feet a day.

  Before he turned to head back to town, August paused long enough to glance down the picturesque winding road. It might be a good place to call home, he thought.

  A child’s shrill scream filled the air and caught August’s attention. He listened again, thinking it came from the direction of town, but soon realized it came from down the road in the opposite direction. The intensity of the child’s cry for help sent August in a full run down the riverbank.

  Gerald Hogan stood on the small wooden bridge that crossed the river nearly a quarter of a mile from his home. “Help! Help!” he screamed. “My brother can’t swim.”

  August arrived in time to see a small, brown-haired child slip beneath the churning water. Without thought for his own safety, August rushed into the river and swam with the current to catch up to the flailing form.

  The icy water bit into August’s skin as he maneuvered himself better to take hold of the little boy. He stretched out his hand as the child came within reach, only to hit a boulder. The impact sent him careening away.

  August knew he’d have to fight with all his strength to once again reach the drowning boy. He lunged forward in the water and grabbed hold of the boy’s collar, pulling the child back against his chest.

  Fighting the current, August moved toward shore, where the water was more shallow. He pulled the sputtering, crying child with him. Once he reached the riverbank, August fell back against it, breathing hard. Every muscle in his body ached from the stress and cold, but the child was crying and that meant he was alive.

  “Are you my daddy?” Gerald asked from overhead.

  “What?” August asked in surprise. Drenched and freezing, he was certain he’d misunderstood the boy’s question.

  “You are my daddy!” Gerald yelled with exuberance. “Mommy! Mommy!” He ran off in the direction of home before August could stop him and set him straight.

  Getting to his feet and cradling the cold, crying boy to his chest, August followed in the direction Gerald had disappeared.

  “Mommy, come quick. It’s Daddy!” Gerald yelled as he ran through the roadhouse’s front door.

  Beth came rushing from the back room. “What are you saying, Gerald?”

  “Phillip fell in the river, and Daddy jumped in after him.” The excitement in Gerald’s voice left Beth little doubt about the truth of his statement.

  “Take me to where Phillip is,” Beth said without thought of reprimanding the disobedience of her sons. “Hu
rry, Gerry. Take me to your brother.”

  “He’s all right, Momma,” Gerald said as he led the way. “Daddy came back. Daddy saved Phillip!”

  Beth shook her head, unable to understand. “Daddy is in heaven,” she said as she took hold of Gerald’s eager hand.

  “I know, but you said this was heaven,” Gerald stated. “Remember? You said this was heaven when we moved here. I knew my daddy would come home.”

  Beth’s heart ached. How could she explain the misunderstanding to her excited five-year-old? She was torn. She had to assure herself that Phillip was safe and alive, but she was also concerned that Gerald accept the truth of his father’s death.

  Taking her eyes from her son, Beth lifted her gaze to see a dark-haired man approaching down the road. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart beat faster. From a distance, she could almost believe that JB was walking toward her.

  Beth stopped in her tracks, while Gerald pulled at her arm. “Come on, Mommy. It’s Daddy and Phillip,” he insisted.

  Beth let go of Gerald and held her hand to her throat. She paled at the ghostly image of her husband. The same dark hair and medium build. The same self-confident stride. Pushing aside such thoughts, Beth rushed forward to take Phillip.

  “Daddy saved Phillip from the river,” Gerald announced.

  Phillip had wrapped his arms around August’s neck and, as Beth reached out to take him, Phillip resisted.

  “No. Want Daddy,” he said firmly.

  Beth looked into the dark eyes of the man who’d saved her child. She wanted to explain, to say something that would answer the question in the man’s eyes, but words wouldn’t come.

  “You’re freezing,” Beth finally managed. “Come with me, and I’ll get you something dry to wear.”

  August nodded and followed Beth back to the roadhouse. She paused to open the door with trembling hands, allowing August to pass through with Phillip. “Thank you,” she whispered as August moved only inches from her.

  He turned his face to meet her pale blue eyes. He saw the concern for her child and something else. August began to realize that he represented an image from her past.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered.

  Chapter 4

  Phillip refused to be fussed over, and Beth watched in silent concern for signs of complications. The boy seemed fine, however, and the only real dilemma was how to explain to him that the man to whom he clung so affectionately wasn’t his father.

  Beth moved uncomfortably around the room as she built up the fire in the stove and retrieved warm towels for August and Phillip. It was hard to allow the stranger such an intimate role in her son’s life, but at the moment she didn’t know what else she could do.

  “I must apologize for my sons’ behavior,” Beth finally said, noting the confused expression on August’s face. “Their father was killed last year in the war. They have a misconception about his coming back, or, well, that’s not really where the misunderstanding occurred, but it’s a long story.”

  She reached out and pried Phillip from August’s lap. “I can offer you a robe while your clothes dry,” Beth said, turning to leave the room. “I’ll have Gerald show you where you can change.”

  August nodded and watched as the petite woman placed a kiss on her son’s forehead. He noted the relief in her eyes and the gratitude. He admired the way she handled herself in the midst of the crisis and the tender way she mothered her children. He was so absorbed in watching her as she left the room that he barely heard Gerald’s little voice as he instructed August to follow him.

  The boy offered August the robe and turned to leave. “I’m glad you came home, Daddy. I missed you.”

  “Son, I’m not your daddy, but if I were, I’d love having a big strong boy like you,” August said with a smile.

  “You’re not my daddy?” Gerald questioned.

  “No,” August said offering the boy his hand, “but I’d like to be your friend. I just moved here and I don’t have any friends. Would you be my friend?”

  Gerald wrinkled his forehead as he often did when considering something important. “I wanted you to be my daddy. You look like my daddy.” He paused in thoughtful contemplation before adding, “I guess I can be your friend.”

  “I’d sure like it,” August said as he pulled the wet shirt from his body. “Now why don’t you go see if you can give your mommy some help while I change out of these clothes.” Gerald nodded and left August to contemplate the situation.

  “Momma,” Gerald said as he came into his bedroom.

  Beth looked up from where she was putting dry clothes on Phillip. She’d already checked his body for injuries that had been missed before, but other than a few scrapes and bruises, Phillip had fared rather well. God had certainly been watching over him, even sending the stranger who so closely resembled JB.

  “What is it, honey?”

  “That man says he’s not my daddy. I thought he was my daddy, but he isn’t.”

  Beth lifted Gerald into her arms and hugged him close. “No, he’s not your daddy. Honey, Daddy is never coming back. Not here. Not on earth. Heaven is where he lives now, and he’s going to stay there forever.

  “Someday, we’ll all leave this earth and go to heaven, but when that happens, Gerald, we can’t come back here. We won’t even want to. Daddy is happy in heaven, and he won’t ever come back here, but someday we’ll see him again. Do you understand that?”

  “I understand,” Gerald said with surprising acceptance. “I told that man I’d be his friend. Is that all right?”

  “Of course you can. Now, you two play in here while I fix some lunch for everyone. I’m counting on you to behave,” Beth said, kissing each of them.

  “We be good,” Phillip said, causing Beth to smile.

  “I’ll call you when lunch is ready,” she said and turned to go.

  “Can my new friend have lunch with us?” Gerald asked innocently.

  Beth nodded. “I’ll ask him right now.”

  Beth was already busy with lunch preparations when August came into the kitchen with his wet clothes.

  “Here,” Beth said as she put down the potato she was washing. “Let me take those and hang them out back.”

  “I hate to be a bother,” August said with a grin. There was something about the small woman that captivated him. She seemed so alive and energetic, and August found it hard to believe that she’d never remarried.

  Beth glanced up as she took the clothes, and her heart nearly stopped. August’s grin was so like JB’s. “I suppose,” she murmured, forgetting the lunch invitation, “I should introduce myself. I’m Bethany Hogan.”

  “I’m August Eriksson. May I call you Bethany?”

  “Please, or Beth if you prefer.”

  “I like the name Beth. I hope you will call me August.”

  Beth nodded and shifted the dripping clothes. “I’m grateful for what you did. Saving my son’s life must have taken an incredible act of bravery. I thank God you were there when he needed you.” Before August could reply, Beth quickly moved through the kitchen and out the back door.

  She pinned the clothes to the line, cherishing the once-familiar weight of a man’s clothing. She ran her hand across the collar of August’s shirt.

  August stood just inside the doorway, hoping that Beth wouldn’t see him. He watched as she seemed lost in the moment and wondered if she would ever put her dead husband to rest.

  When she turned back toward the peeled log house, August ducked back and quickly took a seat at the kitchen table. He pretended to be preoccupied with his own thoughts when Beth returned to finish fixing lunch.

  “I hope you like fried potatoes and ham,” Beth said as she continued with her work. “I’ve also got canned peaches and fresh bread.”

  “Sounds wonderful, but I hadn’t intended on staying for lunch. I never meant to intrude,” August said softly.

  “Intrude? You saved my son’s life. Your presence here is anything but an intrusion. Lunch i
s an inadequate payment for such a deed.”

  “Maybe you could tell me where I might find a place to stay,” August requested. “I’ve just arrived from Nome, and I have a job lined up with the Public Roads Administration. I’m not at all familiar with the area, however, so I need some suggestions.”

  Beth smiled and allowed a bit of a laugh to escape. “It would seem God threw us together for more than one purpose,” she mused. “Northway doesn’t offer much in the way of accommodations. I run this as a roadhouse, and I just happen to have lost a boarder this morning. I have a small room with a bed, washstand, and dresser. I don’t offer regular meals, what with the rationing and all, but the room rates are reasonable.”

  “Sounds great,” August said enthusiastically. Here was the perfect opportunity to stay close by and learn more about this young widowed mother. He cocked his head toward the stove with a chuckle. “What about lunch?”

  “What about it?”

  “You said no meals.”

  Beth laughed in spite of herself. “Well, occasionally I offer a meal or two for especially deserving souls.”

  “If it’s half as good as it’s starting to smell, I’ll try extra hard to be deserving. Besides, where else am I going to find such pleasant company?”

  Beth shook her head with a smile. What kind of man was this August Eriksson? He stormed into their lives, saving her child from certain death, and now he sat as relaxed and easygoing as if they were lifelong friends sharing a passing moment.

  “What are you smiling about?” August asked as he leaned forward.

  “What?” Beth realized she’d betrayed her amusement with the situation and wasn’t quite sure how to explain.

  “I saw that smile,” August answered. “It’s a very nice smile, if I might add.”

  Beth turned back to her work and changed the subject. “What prompted you to move here from Nome?”

  August shrugged his shoulders and leaned back. “I heard about the road project, and I wanted to be part of it. I was too old for the army, and I wanted to do something worthwhile with my life—something that would show after I was gone.”