Within ten minutes Chris came striding out from the kitchen carrying a box with several meals in foil pans. He stopped in front of Serena. “You ready to go?” His winning smile took her mind off her fears.
Nodding, Serena stood and donned her parka while Chris glanced back at his wife and they exchanged another of those looks. Arna’s face transformed as he blew her a kiss.
She “caught it” in her hand like a lovesick teen and pressed it to her cheek.
Averting her gaze, Serena followed Chris out to his SUV.
“You make a lot of home deliveries?” she asked once they settled in and seat belts clicked.
Chris shook his head. “Only to Evelyn. She’s a special lady.”
“How does someone become a shaman?”
Lips pursed, Chris closed one eye and cocked his head. “I’m not exactly sure, but I don’t think one ‘becomes’ a shaman so much as one just is. You could probably ask Evelyn.”
Good suggestion. Serena thought of a couple other questions about Max she’d ask if she got the chance.
Chris drove them toward the sea, past the downtown area. Through the fog, she thought she saw a whale jawbone standing on its end to form an arch on the shoreline. That wasn’t something one saw on the beach in Malibu.
“So, you and Max, huh?” Chris asked.
“Oh, uh…we, we’re not—” She hadn’t stammered like this since her first public speaking assignment in junior high speech class. She took a deep breath and started over. “We’re not together.”
“You seemed to be this morning.” Chris wiggled his blond eyebrows.
She closed her eyes and her face burned again. “I admit, we—”
“Don’t get me wrong. Arna and I are glad you two are doing the mattress mambo.”
“What?” Her eyes flew open and she twisted in her seat to face him. “You are? I mean—”
“Sure. We think you’re just what Max needs.” He took his attention off the road to smile at her.
Serena couldn’t quite manage a reciprocal smile. Actually, they hadn’t used a mattress yet. Wait a minute. Had she just thought “yet”? No. They hadn’t and they weren’t going to, either. A professional journalist certainly couldn’t sleep with her subject.
A bit late for that, wasn’t it?
“You have to admit you’re interested in more than just the aurora borealis.” He grinned.
Serena couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her hotel proprietor. A virtual stranger. But then, everything about Arna and Chris was…to put it nicely, eccentric. What kind of hotel owner got mixed up in his guest’s personal business? There were plenty of quirky people in L.A., but it was an L.A. kind of weirdness. Being in Barrow was like staying in some sort of alternate universe. Maybe it was the constant cloudiness. Maybe, after one lived here for a while one developed that seasonal affective disorder and it made one just slightly off.
Still, she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or alienate a potential source of information. “So, why does Max need someone like me?”
“Max has been alone a long time.” Chris looked as if he wanted to say more.
Serena leaned toward him, her interest riveted. “Because of the plane crash?” she prodded.
He shook his head. “Arna warned me about my motormouth.”
“Anything you could tell me off the record?”
“Ah, we’re here.” Chris pulled into a gravel driveway and shifted the gear into Park. “Can you take these in for me?” He reached into the backseat, grabbed the box of food and handed it to Serena. “Tell Evelyn I’ll come in next time. Gotta get back for the lunch rush.”
Serena took the box and got out. “Thank you for the ride.” She closed the door and he reversed out onto the road. At the last minute, a thought occurred to her. “Wait.” She waved a hand and scrambled after him. “How am I going to—” but he drove off without seeing her “—get back?”
Turning around to face the tiny, wood-framed house, she drew in a fortifying breath, headed up the walkway and knocked. Before her knuckles had hit the door the third time, the door swung open.
Serena blinked. It was the lady she’d seen yesterday with Max.
The old woman stood there, scrutinizing Serena with an unfathomable expression. “Come. Come.” She waved her hand and stepped inside. “Max took me away before we could be introduced last night. I’m his grandmother, Evelyn.” Her gray hair fell past her waist in two braids on either side of her head, and her dark-skinned complexion held the lines of many, many years.
“I’m Serena.”
“I’m so glad you have finally come.” With that cryptic remark, the old woman ushered Serena into a tidy kitchen decorated with brightly colored ceramic teapots of all sizes and shapes. Wearing modern slacks and a sweater, Evelyn shuffled to the stove and lifted a teakettle off the burner. “Tea? It’s my own special blend.”
“Sounds wonderful.” At Evelyn’s direction, Serena settled into a chair at the kitchen table as the older lady poured tea into a mug, then handed it to Serena, along with a plastic bear filled with honey.
As Serena sipped the special brew, Evelyn poured herself a cup and sat next to her. “Now we talk.” She smiled and the creases around her eyes deepened. “I shall answer all your questions.” She leaned forward and patted Serena’s hand. “And you shall answer mine.”
“You have questions for me?”
“Ii.” The old lady nodded.
Serena suddenly recalled his words this morning. That the reporter had bothered his grandmother with questions about Serena. Oh, no. “I’m sorry I caused you trouble.”
“No trouble. I wanted to talk with you. You have been asking questions about Max? Why are you so interested?” She sipped her tea, watching Serena over the rim of her teacup.
Serena drew in a deep breath. “I want to be a reporter and I heard a lot of rumors about him in Anchorage. I figured if even one of them was true, he’d be a fascinating man to write about.”
“So, you are not a reporter now?”
Serena shook her head. “No.”
The old lady pursed her lips and nodded in that cryptic way she had. “Now you may ask me a question.”
A dozen questions fought for supremacy in her mind, but what popped out was, “How did you become a shaman?”
Evelyn’s brows lowered. She hesitated, and then drew in a deep breath. “I do not usually talk of this, but…”
She sat in silence, sipped her tea and then got up to refill their cups. “I had my first vision when I was fifteen. It was a time of great change for our people. During the war, the U.S. Navy built their arctic research lab here and many white men came. Not all were as accepting of different cultures as young people are today. The Iñupiat were sometimes belittled or discriminated against.” The old lady smiled, her eyes closed as she recalled events from long ago. “But I loved to dance the jitterbug.” She opened her eyes and found Serena’s gaze on her. “I was too young to know I should not dance with a white man. I was…attacked, then left out on the tundra to freeze. I wandered for two days. Then a tornaq appeared to me.”
“A tornaq?” Serena had forgotten her tea.
“A spirit,” Evelyn said. “He foretold my safe return to my family, and I’ve had visions ever since. I had a vision of you last night.”
“Of me?”
“Ii. Yes. In my vision you are the snowy owl, hunted by Iñupiat, yet despite the danger, you fly out every night, calling out, searching for your mate.”
The hairs on the back of Serena’s neck stood up and her skin chilled with goose bumps.
An owl? What were the odds?
“This vision means something to you?”
Serena focused on the old woman again. “No, not at all. I collect owls, though.” She forced a smile. “Isn’t that a coincidence?”
The shaman stared at Serena. “No coincidence.” Her lips pursed. “You are as stubborn as my grandson. When Maximilian closed himself off from ever
yone I must pretend a heart attack to make him come to me.”
Serena’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t.”
“Ii.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint.
“I bet he was furious when he got here.” Serena could easily imagine his wrath.
Evelyn shrugged. “I did what I must. Just as I do now.”
Finally, here was someone who would tell her about Max’s plane crash. “What happened to him after that crash? Why did he stay holed up in his cabin all that time?”
Just as Evelyn opened her mouth to speak Serena held up her hand. “I should warn you I’d like to do a story on this crash, but I won’t print a word without your permission.” Much as it pained her to promise that, her information had to be acquired legitimately.
One side of Evelyn’s mouth crooked up in a perceptive smile. “I know, dear. But nothing is what you think it is. The owl and the wolf must each choose their path.”
What? That kind of thing wasn’t going to be very helpful. Maybe the old woman wasn’t quite as reliable a source for information as she thought. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask the questions.
“So, can you tell me what happened? Does Max know what caused the plane to crash? And what happened afterward that made him a recluse?”
With a troubled look, Evelyn drew another deep breath. “The trouble was in the air—”
The front door opened. “Aanaga?” Seconds later Max strode through the kitchen doorway carrying a brown paper sack full of groceries, Mickey at his side. Max stopped short, stared at her and blinked. Mickey had no such compunction. The dog barked, raced to Serena and lifted his two front paws onto her lap to lick her face.
Max’s expression quickly changed to confusion. “What are you doing here? Down, Mickey!”
The dog whined and slinked between Serena’s feet as she tried to explain. “I was—”
“This is low, even for you.” He tossed the groceries onto the counter, closed the distance between them and seized her arm. “I won’t have you harassing my grandmother. If I have to haul you bodily onto a plane, I’ll—”
“Ernetuar!” The shaman got slowly to her feet and shuffled over to place a palm on Max’s chest. “Grandson. I invited her.”
“You what?” His attention on his grandmother now, he released Serena’s arm.
“Max, she is ivabiaqtuq uumifa!” Max’s grandmother glanced back at Serena, her face full of joy, her smile glowing.
All color drained from Max’s face at his grandmother’s words. He looked over at Serena, his mouth set. “No.”
“Ii.”
“I’m what?” Whatever Evelyn had called her didn’t sound good. “What is iva-bee-ak-tuke ooh-mee-fah?”
“No, Grandmother, you’re wrong.”
Evelyn shook her head. “I am not wrong.”
She might as well have asked a wall for all the notice Max and his grandmother were taking of her. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”
They both turned their attention to her, Evelyn grinning, Max glowering.
“My grandmother says you are the Searching One. The one whom her spirit guides foretold.”
The old shaman nodded and laughed. It was more of a cackle, really, like one of Macbeth’s witches stirring toil and trouble.
And Serena still had no idea what they were talking about.
MAX SHOVED his shaking hands in his pockets and stepped back to lean against the counter. He wasn’t sure his knees would have held much longer. The Searching One. Serena? No way.
But his grandmother was not usually wrong.
Still, there had to be some mistake.
“What does that mean?” Serena switched her inquiring gaze from him to his grandmother, and back to him. “Is it because I search for the truth?”
“Ha.” Max bit off a mocking laugh. “You wouldn’t know the truth if—”
“Max!” his grandmother admonished him.
“I’m sorry, Aanaga, but you have to be mistaken. And you,” he said as he glared at Serena, “need to leave.”
“No,” his grandmother protested. “She is my guest.”
“He’s right, Evelyn.” Yanking her purse off the back of the chair, Serena slung it over her shoulder and bustled toward the front door. When she got to the entryway, she spun back and held her hand out to his grandmother. “Thank you for inviting me.”
But his grandmother shook her head. “You have no way home except for Max. And I need him to fix my chimney before he leaves. You will stay for lunch. Max, too.”
Max bit back a groan and clenched his fists. Now he had to give the meddling busybody a ride? True, he hadn’t seen Serena’s rental out front. How had she gotten here? Whoever drove her was going to hear about it. Probably Chris. The kid was barely legal to drink and he’d tried to give Max advice on women before.
“I don’t want to be any trouble.” Serena hesitated by the door, staring at him.
Max scoffed. “Lady, you’ve been trouble since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Her lips tightened and she raised her arrogant little chin.
“Be ready to leave in half an hour.” He wouldn’t disrespect his grandmother by refusing her guest a ride home. But that didn’t mean he had to join them for lunch. “In the meantime, I’ll be on the roof.” He strode to the front door and then turned back. “Come on, Mick. You can keep me company.”
Mickey raised his head and thumped his tail, but he stayed by Serena’s side.
“Mick. Let’s go.”
The malamute whined, but he still didn’t move.
“Fine. Stay there.” He slammed out the front door.
MAX SANK ankle deep into the snow on the roof. That woman had some nerve being here.
Of course, he’d been the one to seek her out this morning. What a mistake that had been. What had he been thinking, pushing his way into her hotel room with a bed not three feet away? Not that they’d needed a bed. Damn, all he had to do was get near her and he wanted her.
Nah, that wasn’t true. He wanted her even when he wasn’t near her. Even when he was frustrated with her he wanted to strip her and take her.
The chimney pipe was fine, but once the snow melted he’d probably need to replace some shingles on the roof. He made a note to bring his hammer, some nails and a few new shingles next time he came. His stomach growled and his nose was frozen. Still, he wouldn’t give that woman the—damn. Realizing his tactical error, he climbed down the ladder, brushed the ice off his parka and hurried into the cabin. He shouldn’t have left her alone with his grandmother. No telling what she would reveal to Serena.
At the entry to the kitchen, he slowed, hearing his grandmother tell an old Iñupiat story—the one she used to tell him as a child about the crow that brought daylight to the Inuit people. He leaned against the door frame, closed his eyes and listened to his grandmother’s voice.
“The crow shook his beak and said, ‘I could only carry one small ball of daylight, and it will need to regain its strength every so often. So you’ll only have daylight for half the year.’
“The people said, ‘But we are happy to have daylight for half the year! Before you brought the ball to us it was dark all the time!’ And so, that is why, in the land of the Inuit in the far north, it is dark for one-half of the year and light the other. The people never forgot it was Crow who brought them the gift of daylight and they take care never to hurt him—in case he decides to take it back.”
Max peeked around the corner. Serena had her head resting in one hand, enthralled with his grandmother’s story. “I love that.” Gone was the sophisticated television personality he’d met in Anchorage. The woman sitting with his grandmother wearing an oversize cable-knit sweater and sealskin snow boots looked as if she’d lived in Barrow all her life.
His grandmother smiled so wide that her whole face beamed.
“Did she tell you the one about the woman who carried the lamp?” Max strode in, grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, filled it with soup and
sat at the table.
Serena met his gaze. “And about Sedna, the goddess of the sea.”
“Did you find the problem, grandson?”
“It’s smoking just fine, Aanaga. I’ll bring in more firewood before I go.” He took a bite of the soup, barely registering that it was his favorite, moose stew.
His grandmother turned the page on an old photo album on the table before her. One he’d never seen. “This is my wedding picture.” She smiled fondly down at the old black-and-white photo, and then turned the book so he could see. The couple standing in front of a small wood-and-mud shelter looked barely old enough to date, much less marry. They were just kids.
But the Iñupiat boy beamed at the camera as he held his bride tightly around the waist.
“How old were you there, Aanaga?”
“I was fifteen. Your grandfather seventeen.”
“So young!” Serena said. “Didn’t you say you were fifteen when you—”
“Ii. For a long time I thought I could not have children.”
Max turned to his grandmother. “You’ve never told me that.”
“You never asked my story, boy.” His grandmother’s tone didn’t accuse. Only stated fact. There was love in her eyes as she looked at him, but something else also. As if she was urging him to…to ask?
He took her hand in both of his and kissed it gently. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so selfish, Aanaga.”
She smiled. “Already she helps your soul find its way home.”
Max blinked. Damn. Caught like a minnow in a net.
“Your grandfather found me when I could walk no farther. He cared for me. We were married a few months later.” She rubbed a wrinkled finger over his picture. “He was so handsome. Always my hero.”
“You miss him still,” Serena said quietly, awe in her voice.
“Ii.” His grandmother drew in a shaky breath.
It was as if he were seeing his grandmother for the first time. Although he’d heard stories about his grandfather, Max had never known him. He had died hunting whale.
His grandmother turned the page and there was his mother as a baby and a toddler. She seemed a happy child, smiling, being thrown in the air by her father. “How old was my mother when grandfather died?”
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