by Bonnie Leon
Jean wanted to go. Luke can't run my life, she decided. “All right. Sounds like fun. If Luke raises a stink, well, too bad.” She chuckled, then looked down at her clothes. “I'll have to change and get some fishing gear. I don't think Laurel will mind watching Susie. And Brian won't be home until this afternoon.” She headed for the door. “When will we be back?”
“Early evening. I've made a good-sized lunch. I've got plenty for both of us.”
With her gear tucked in the back of Ray's pickup, Jean sat beside the big man feeling ready for an adventure. They bounced over the rough road and slid through muddy ruts as they headed south. She wondered about what she was doing but decided it was time she did something just for herself.
Groves of birch hurried past the window, and Jean remembered the times she and Will had picnicked under the birch at home. Would he care that she was with Ray? No. He'd want me to have a good time, she decided.
Jean rested her arm on the open window. Early summer rains had filled the ponds, and water lilies, pond grasses, and heavy bog orchids crowded the pools. Aspen and cottonwood bordered swampy lowlands, and distant mountains stood like broad-shouldered sentinels.
The road followed the inlet's finger called Knik Arm, and Jean breathed in the pungent odor of the mud flats. “I ought to get down here and do some clamming. Jessie's assured me that digging for razor clams is a real adventure.”
“It can be,” Ray said, keeping his eyes on the road. “They're fast, and as soon as they know you're after them, they fly, straight down. You've got to be fast to catch 'em.”
Ray turned off the main road and headed toward the beach. He stopped at a long wharf leading to a cannery. A cannery tender had moored in the bay. Ray's dory was tied to the dock.
He stopped the truck and climbed out, then hurried around to open the door for Jean. “You'll need that coat,” he said, nodding at the jacket she'd left on the seat.
“Oh. Of course,” Jean said, picking it up and draping it over her arm.
Ray closed the door, then grabbed the picnic basket and rain gear out of the back. He handed them to Jean then retrieved the fishing gear. He held out his pole straight in front of him and gazed down the length of it. “Yep. It's a good day for fishing,” he said and headed for the wharf.
Jean followed, no longer enjoying the ocean smells. The air was heavy with the odor of rotting fish. Seabirds swooped over the bay, then spreading their wings, landed on the gray mud where they picked at carcasses littering the cove. Dirty seawater washed around the moorings while a fishing boat unloaded its catch.
“Looks like the fishing's good,” Ray said. “Smells like it too.” He chuckled. “I'd hate to work in a cannery—spending every day in this stink, gutting fish.”
“Sounds awful,” Jean said, stepping onto the dock.
Ray stopped at his battered wooden dory. He stepped in, throwing his arms out as the boat floated away from the wharf. After stowing the gear, he hauled on the rope and pulled himself alongside the dock. Taking the rain gear from Jean, he said, “Never can tell what the weather's going to do.” He took the picnic basket and set it under the middle seat. Straightening, he looked at her. “You ready?” He held out his hand.
Jean took his hand but wondered if she should have stayed in Palmer. She stepped in and the dory wobbled. Climbing around the fishing poles, she sat on a wooden bench and laid her hands in her lap. How did I go from taking a morning walk to being here? she wondered as she gazed at the open water.
Ray released the small boat and pushed away from the dock. He started his engine, and it thrummed softly as they headed into the inlet. Keeping a hand on the motor's handle, Ray sat with a straight back and gazed out over the water. With the cannery disappearing into the shoreline haze, he said, “I know a good spot west of here, just beyond the Susitna River. Figured we'd start there.”
Her hands pressed between her knees, Jean studied the landscape. “That's Mt. Susitna, right?” She pointed at a low-lying mountain north of the inlet.
“Yep, and the big mountain beyond is McKinley.” Ray kept his eyes on the water in front of them.
Jean scanned the coastline with its mix of spruce, birch, and alder forests, swamps, and open meadows. Beyond, to the north and east, were mountain ranges. “Seems there are mountains just about everywhere you look.” She rested an arm on the edge of the boat.
“That's true,” Ray said, never taking his eyes off the waves.
Jean settled back. Among the trees along the shore, birds flitted through boughs, busily building nests and squabbling over space.
Finally Ray cut the engine and tossed out an anchor. “This is it.”
“How do you know?”
He smiled incredulously. “I've been coming here for years.” He pointed at the mouth of a river. “That's the Susitna.”
Jean nodded, picked up her pole, and threaded the line.
By the time she was ready for her hook, Ray had his line in the water. “You need a hand?” he asked.
Holding up her pole and line, she said, “It's been a while.”
Ray took the gear and quickly had it ready to go. He took a herring out of a bait bucket and secured it to a large hook. “All set.” He handed the pole to Jean. “Now, let's see what you haul in.”
Jean cast out her line and settled down to wait. Neither spoke as a companionable silence settled over the boat. Soon, with the warmth of the sun and the gentle rocking of the boat, Jean felt sleepy and wished for a comfortable place to nap. Instead she studied the shoreline, gazed at a curious sea lion, and watched hungry seabirds. It was a peaceful setting, and Jean was glad she'd joined Ray.
“So, you come here a lot?” Jean asked, breaking the silence.
“Oh, I'd say half a dozen times during the summer. Usually get enough salmon to last the year. 'Course, I fish the rivers too.” He grinned. “I can count on Celeste to cook what I catch. She takes good care of me.”
“You can be thankful you have a woman to look after you,” Jean said, then wished she could take back the words. An uncomfortable quiet fell over them.
Finally Ray said, “I used to come here with Ellie. She was a good fisherman.” He eased his pole up. “Those were good days.”
Jean nodded, hoping to leave memories alone for a day. She concentrated on her fishing.
Morning drifted into afternoon. The salmon were plentiful; Ray landed four, and Jean caught two. By the time they stopped to eat, clouds skittered across the sky, and a sharp wind cut across the waves, sending spray into the air. “Looks like we're in for some weather,” Jean said as she bit into a venison sandwich.
Ray shoved a peanut butter cookie into his mouth. “We need to head back.” He took a swig of water, then held out the container of cookies. “Try one. I made them.”
“You?” Jean took one. “I never figured you for a cook,” she said, taking a small bite. “Delicious.” She took another bite.
“Don't sound so surprised. When Ellie died, I took over the cooking. I'm pretty good at it, although nowadays Celeste does most of it.”
Jean finished the cookie. For reasons she couldn't explain, knowing Ray cooked made her like him more.
“So, I suppose Luke's working from daylight to dark these days,” Ray said.
“Even at this time of year we don't seem to have enough daylight. In fact, I ought to feel guilty for being here. I shouldn't be goofing off.”
“You're working,” Ray said with a grin. “You now have more fish to hang in your smokehouse.”
“It doesn't feel like work.” Wind caught Jean's hair and whipped it across her face. She pushed it back. “Most of the planting is done, thanks to Adam and the fellows you sent over.”
Ray took another drink of water and climbed to the back of the boat. “And how's Luke?”
“Fine, I guess, but if you're asking how he feels about you … well, nothing's changed.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
A wave slammed against the boat, splashing o
ver the sides. The clouds had turned dark.
“Weather's changing fast,” Jean said, unable to disguise her anxiety.
“We better get a move on.” Ray started the engine and pointed the bow toward Anchorage.
They'd barely started back when the rain started and the wind picked up. Waves rolled close together and dipped into deep troughs. The small dory rocked wildly and dropped to the bottom of watery valleys. Jean gripped the wooden bench, certain they would capsize at any moment.
Ray reached under his seat, pulled out a raincoat, and tossed it to her. “Put it on.” He didn't bother with one for himself but gripped the rudder handle. “I know a place where we can hold up until the storm passes,” he called over the wailing wind. He steered toward the mouth of the Susitna.
As they entered the river, the waves became more erratic and choppy, and the dory bounced violently. Jean prayed. Brian and Susie need me. They've lost so much already, Father. Please, not now.
Finally they cleared the chop and entered the calmer waters of the river. “Where are we going?” Jean asked.
“About a mile inland there are a couple of small cabins. The seal hunters use them during the season.”
Meadows of tall grasses spread out away from the river. As they moved inland, alder thickets replaced the fields. Ray steered toward a clearing. Maneuvering the boat into the shallows, he jumped out and pulled the dory to shore.
“How did you know about this place?” Jean asked, pulling her hood around her face to shut out the wind.
“I've been here a lot of years, remember?” He chuckled. “In the winter you can get here by dogsled.” He offered his hand to Jean and steadied her as she climbed out. “The cabins ought to keep us warm for the night,” he said, grabbing a pack.
“The night? You mean we're going to be here all night?”
“This storm isn't going to let up anytime soon.”
“My family will worry.”
Ray headed up a trail leading away from the river and stopped in front of two tiny cabins standing side by side. A canoe lay alongside one, and each had a single window in front and a smokestack protruding from its roof. Wood was stacked alongside one cabin.
“Not much,” Ray said, “but it'll do.” He peeked inside one, then walked in. Jean followed. It seemed even smaller from the inside, measuring approximately ten feet by eight feet. A small wood stove stood in one corner, and a wooden bench sat beneath the only window.
Ray walked back outside, then returned a few moments later with an armload of wood. “We can be thankful for whoever was here before us. The person left a supply of firewood.” He set the split birch and alder on the floor beside the stove and took a newspaper from a stack along the wall. He crumpled it and shoved it in the stove, then added kindling. Retrieving matches out of his pack, he lit the paper, and soon a small blaze crackled. He added larger pieces of wood and closed the cast iron door. “That'll do it.”
After sharing what was left of their lunch, Ray and Jean sat on the floor and settled into a comfortable silence. Burning wood crackled and popped, and the cabin turned warm.
A burst of wind swept over the cabin. “What would we have done if these cabins hadn't been here?” Jean asked, glancing at the window.
“We'd be sleeping under the trees, trying to keep from shivering our teeth loose.” Ray grinned. “Or we would have sheltered under the boat. I've done that before.”
“You've done just about everything.”
“And more,” Ray said.
“Do you think we'll be able to leave in the morning? My family will be frantic.”
“Probably.” Ray leaned his back against the wall. “Don't worry about your family. Celeste will know where we are, and she'll tell them.”
Jean hugged her knees. “Do you think it's this bad in the valley?”
“Maybe. We get some strong storms rolling through.”
“The crops won't stand up to this kind of beating.”
“It's early in the season. Could you replant?”
Jean looked at Ray. “I haven't been completely honest with you about the farm. We don't have enough money for replanting. Even with a good crop, I don't know if I can hang on to it. Luke's talking about joining the navy as soon as he's eighteen. That's only six months from now.”
“You think he'll leave in the middle of winter? I thought he was all excited about running the farm.”
“He was, but ever since Alex died, he hasn't been the same. He blames Alaska and wants to leave.” She shrugged. “Even if it means I lose the farm, I think it's good for him to get away.” A sharp pop reverberated from the stove. “I've been thinking about moving.”
“Where to?”
“I don't know. I want to be close to Laurel and Adam and William. I was thinking maybe Anchorage. Maybe I could find a job. I've also thought about Wisconsin—work is more plentiful there, but the people I care about are here.”
“I thought you were working at the store.”
“I am, but it's not enough. And as long as I live on the farm, I have an obligation to work it. That's part of the contract Will and I signed.”
Ray pushed to his feet and walked to the window. He watched the storm. “I've never been a real farmer, but I liked the work I did for you. It's good, honest labor.” He turned and looked at Jean. “I know I'm not Will. I've prayed and wished I were. I've even tried to make myself like him, but I'm not.” Jean started to say something, but Ray raised his hand. “Let me finish.
“God's been working on me, helping me become a better Ray Townsend. My temper's not so bad as it was; I'm steadier, not so quick to fly off the handle.” He offered a sideways grin. “I doubt I'll ever be a quiet man, but I'm working on it.”
He pressed his palms together, then swiped a hand through his dark curls. “I can't replace Will, and I don't expect you to love me, but I could be a real help to you and the children.” He didn't look at Jean. “I was thinking … maybe I could move in to your place and work it full time.” His eyes met Jean's. “With Luke leaving, there won't be a problem between him and me.”
Jean stopped breathing. Was Ray asking her to marry him, or was he just saying he'd live at the farm to help out? “Oh, I don't know. Luke would be awfully upset.”
“Jean, you can't live your life according to what your son wants.”
“I know, but he is my flesh and blood. I have to think about his feelings.” She added wood to the fire. What should she do? She didn't want a marriage of convenience, but Ray might be the only way she could stay in Alaska. Could she love him? She liked him and respected him. Was that enough? Obviously he didn't love her, or he would have said so. It's the children he loves, Jean decided. And Ellie. 'Course, I still love Will. That will never change.
Ray waited.
Jean knew she needed to say something. Finally she said, “I'll think about it. That's all I can do for now. I promise to think about it.”
Chapter 31
WAKEFULNESS PULLED AT JEAN, BUT SHE WANTED TO LINGER. SHE AND WILL stood together beside the barn. He was tall and handsome; she could feel her heart pounding. Will took something from his pocket; it was a ring. She'd known it would be. They'd been so young, so in love.
The smell of coffee cut into Jean's dream. No. Let me stay a little longer.
A door closed, and daylight pressed against her eyes. She rolled to her side and remembered she was sleeping on the floor. Oh yes, the storm. Jean opened her eyes and found Ray sitting on the bench looking at her.
“Morning,” he said.
She pushed herself up on one elbow. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“Yep.” He sipped from a cup. “Found it in the other cabin. I also found some powdered milk and dishes. I heated the milk.” He nodded toward the stove. “It's still warm.”
Sitting all the way up, Jean combed her hair with her fingers. “I hate warm milk,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “But coffee sounds good.”
“You should drink some of the milk. It'll fill y
ou up. A marauder took our fish.”
“What? Oh, no.”
“I should have been more careful.”
Jean pulled her blanket around her. “What do you think it was?”
“Any number of critters—fox, wolf… a bear.”
Unable to keep herself from looking, Jean glanced at the window. The idea of a bear prowling around while they slept was unsettling. Her stomach rumbled. “I guess I'll try the milk, but I won't like it.”
Ray grinned. “You never know. 'Course, I could catch us another fish.”
“Are we staying?”
“No, going. The storm's moved on. It's a little breezy, but we ought to do all right.” He held out half an apple. “I found this in my coat pocket. I ate part of it.”
“Thanks.” Jean took the apple and bit into it. “We can't take time to fish. My family will be worried.” She headed for the stove, and tucking the apple between her arm and her side, she poured warm milk into a cup. Sitting on the bench beside Ray, she took a sip and made a face.
“Try taking a bite of apple with it.”
Jean took a bite, then a drink. Swallowing, she said, “Better, but still not good. I'd rather enjoy the apple,” she said, taking a big swig of milk followed by a shudder. Looking at the bottom of her cup, she said, “I'll add coffee to the rest of this.”
Ray laughed. “You do beat all.”
Warmed by his laughter, Jean walked to the stove and filled the cup with coffee. She stared out the window. “The wind is still gusting. You sure it's all right to head back?”
“Yeah. There'll be some chop, but the boat's sturdy. We ought to be fine.
“Laurel and Luke must be worried sick.”
“I'm sure Celeste is with them. She'll set 'em straight. Like I said, I'm sure she's figured out where we are.” His voice gentle, Ray caught hold of Jean's hand. “Try not to worry.”
The contact was unexpected, and Jean flinched. Ray let go immediately. “Sorry, I didn't mean to—”
“No, it's fine. I just didn't expect it, that's all.” Jean hated the wounded expression in Ray's eyes. She didn't want to hurt him. “I'm not offended, and it's not that I find it—”