I wonder what Sam expects of us, she silently asked the baby.
WHEN KERRY was resting in her room, which was huge and decorated in blue-and-white toile accentuated with bright touches of lemon-yellow, Schwano’s wife arrived in her room with armloads of shopping bags. Nicki was a giggly little Athabascan who had married Schwano on the reservation and followed him to town when he went to work for Sam. She loved Schwano, she loved her new baby and she loved shopping.
“Sam, he gave me money, he said go buy clothes and everything Kerry would need. I said, how do I know what size? Sam, he said she looks like this—” And Nicki sketched an ovoid shape in the air. At this, Kerry couldn’t help dissolving into laughter, and Nicki laughed with her.
The clothes Nicki brought were beautiful and expensive, and they fit much better than the stretched-out leggings and oversized sweater that Kerry had been wearing when the ambulance bore her away to the hospital. Nicki carried her old clothes away to be washed, and Kerry, who realized that she could not pay for the new clothes herself, inspected herself in the full-length mirror on the wall. She looked great. The top she wore was a carnation-pink fluff of angora and wool, and the pants were wool and dyed to match. The color was perfect for her.
But Sam had spent more on these two items of clothing than she would feel comfortable spending on a month’s worth of groceries. She squared her shoulders, went down the hall to the closed door of Sam’s room and rapped smartly on the door.
He opened it and seemed mildly surprised to see her there.
“I thought you were supposed to rest,” he said as she swept past him into the room. The walls were upholstered in dark blue fabric, the big bed covered with a plaid quilt. A fire crackled in the fireplace, warming the room with its glow.
She drew a deep breath. Sam was wearing a soft burgundy shirt, the collar thrown open at the throat. He still didn’t look like the Sam she’d known at Silverthorne, but he was certainly a very handsome Sam.
“Sam,” she said, “I can’t accept the clothes. Too expensive. I’ll never be able to pay for them, and—”
He interrupted. “I’m paying for them. I can well afford it.”
Kerry let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, Sam, I’m certainly grateful for your getting me out of the wilderness and I appreciate your coming to the hospital. And even though I could have gone home to Emma’s, it was nice of you to bring me here. But you don’t need to spend money on me.”
Outside, it was getting dark, the way it usually did by this time in the afternoon, and along the cliff, lights were winking on in houses as car headlights snaked along the road. Kerry was momentarily distracted by the scene, so much so that she was surprised when she realized that Sam had moved and was standing close beside her.
“Did you ever consider,” he said slowly, “that I would like to provide for my child?”
When he was standing so close, it was hard for her to think. Or at least she wasn’t thinking about what he’d said, she was thinking about that night in the Stanchiks’ cabin when he had held her in his arms and let her sob. It had felt so good to give in to her feelings, and he had been kind and understanding. He had known then that she was pregnant with his child, but he hadn’t spoken of it. What had changed? Why was he speaking of it now?
“You don’t have to provide for me or for this baby. I will do that,” she said in a low tone.
“You don’t understand. I want to.”
Slowly she lifted her gaze so that she was looking straight into his eyes. They were calm, steady and sure. But sure of what? She didn’t know, but she was surprised and she knew she showed it.
“Sam, you didn’t ask for this. When you and Doug decided to take destiny into your own hands, you didn’t expect to ever have to be a father.”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t.” He paused, then said, “I’ve never told you why I decided to do it.”
She blinked at him. “I’m not sure I want to know, Sam.”
“You should or you’ll never understand. Doug was my best friend, Kerry. We were Air Force buddies and we became like brothers. He saved my life once.”
“I didn’t know that!” Kerry stared at him.
“It was before he knew you, and Doug was so modest that he wouldn’t take credit for being a hero. We were shot down in the desert during a clandestine operation in the Middle East, and I got a nasty blow on the head. I was pretty much out of it, but Doug kept telling me not to give up, that he would get us out of there. He carried me on his back until we found shelter in a cave, gave most of our skimpy supply of water to me, kept me alive until local tribesmen rescued us. It was a national security matter, didn’t make it into the press. I’ve never talked about it and neither did Doug.”
Kerry knew that Doug hadn’t cared to talk about some of his military experiences, but she hadn’t realized that he’d ever been shot down.
“So anyway, after that, whatever I could do for Doug, I would have done. No matter what. And becoming a sperm donor was something I could do, you see. It would make him happy, and you would get the baby you wanted, and everything was supposed to turn out right.” Sam shrugged, a forlorn gesture.
Kerry couldn’t stand looking into Sam’s face, his dear face, for one more minute. She whirled and marched to the window, where she stood with her arms folded across her chest above her swollen belly.
“You should have told me about your agreement, you and Doug.”
“No. There would have been no point. It would only have made things awkward for the three of us. It was a secret, Kerry. A secret between best buddies.”
“I wish I’d never found out.”
“So do I, in a way. And in a way I’m glad you know. I don’t want secrets between us ever again. And now I can be up front about taking care of you and the baby.”
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me!” The words were impassioned.
“Sorry for you? Kerry, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m the one to feel sorry for!”
Stunned, she swiveled to face him. She couldn’t believe he’d said that. “You?” Her sweeping gesture took in the view, the furnishings, the paintings on the walls. “You’re a man who has everything! No one in this town feels sorry for you, Sam Harbeck!”
His hands gripped her shoulders, holding her immobile. His face was inches from hers, his eyes blazing.
“I have everything a man could want, it’s true. Everything, Kerry, except the love of a good woman.”
Her gaze faltered. She couldn’t speak.
“And that’s what I want more than anything,” he said evenly. “That and a child would make me the happiest man in the world.”
“You’re not the type to settle down. You always found a way out of every relationship. You said so.”
His hands on her shoulders relaxed, but he didn’t release her.
“That was before I knew you. Before I realized how well-suited we are. Before I knew how much a helpmate would mean in my life, before I fell in love with you.”
Kerry’s knees felt weak. “It’s because of the baby. You feel responsible and you are responsible, and now you want to make it up to me. That’s all it is.”
“Stop babbling, Kerry, and kiss me.”
“You said you love me,” she said unevenly. “You can take it back if you want. I’ll give you ten seconds to take it back. One, two, three—”
“You are the most stubborn woman in the world. I don’t want to take it back. I wouldn’t change anything, not ditching the plane in the river, not the time at Silverthorne, not our trek through the wilderness. I wouldn’t change being the father of your baby. Our baby, Kerry. I’m totally and completely in love with you. What would convince you?”
“Well, that kiss for starters.”
She let herself be drawn into his arms, enfolded in his embrace, and she felt her head tilting back and her lips opening to meet his. He kissed her, his mouth moving masterfully against hers. She was marginally aware of his hands sliding through her hair, of he
r growing arousal and of his.
“If you weren’t barely out of the hospital, woman, I’d carry you off to my bed and have my way with you,” Sam growled into her hair. “But as it is, I suppose I’ll just have to carry you off to a justice of the peace instead. Do you think your broken finger has healed enough to wear my wedding ring?”
“Wh-what?”
“I’m asking you to marry me, Kerry Anderson. Until death do us part. As long as we both shall live. Whichever comes first.”
“Marry you,” she repeated slowly and clearly so that there could be no mistake that she’d heard him right. “You can still take that back, Sam. I’ll count to ten. One, two—”
“Please stop procrastinating. I just proposed to you.”
She swallowed. “You really mean it?”
“As much as I’ve ever meant anything,” Sam told her fervently.
“Sam, I think I’d better sit down.”
“Are you all right? You’re not feeling any cramping, are you? Should I call Dr. Wellerman?”
She laughed then, laughed through her happy tears. “No, I think three in a bed is quite enough.”
“Kerry, what are you talking about?”
“I’m saying that I want to get in bed, just the three of us, you and me and this baby of ours, and the doctor would just be in the way.”
“I think I just asked you to marry me,” Sam reminded her.
“I think I want to say yes. But I want to do it in your bed. My knees are shaking, Sam.”
“Oh, my love,” he said, and he picked her up and carried her to the bed. He laid her down carefully, and she patted the quilt beside her.
“You belong here,” she said.
He lay down beside her and wrapped his arms around her until her head was pillowed on his shoulder. Outside it was dark now, and a fog was creeping in from the inlet.
“I take it this means yes?” he asked as he nuzzled the hollow in the base of her throat.
“A very blissful yes.” She stiffened, and Sam drew away.
“Is anything wrong?” he asked in alarm.
She smiled at him in the dark. “Give me your hand.”
She guided his hand to her abdomen where the baby was performing gymnastics. “Your son moves,” she whispered.
“That’s the baby? That? And that?”
“It feels like bubbles,” she said.
“That’s my baby! It feels wonderful. Miraculous.” He took his hand away, curved it around her breast.
“I love you. And our son,” he said.
“Could be a daughter.”
“It’s a son. Trust me.”
“We’ll see,” Kerry told him.
He cuddled her close. “When do you want to get married?”
“Tomorrow. Tonight, if you can arrange it.”
“Tomorrow. Because I want to hold you in my arms all night long.”
“I want you to hold me in your arms all life long.”
“You got it, kiddo.”
They lay quietly, listening to each other’s breathing.
“Kerry?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think Doug would mind.”
“Nor do I.”
“I’d like to name our baby after him. What do you think?”
Kerry didn’t even have to think about it. “I’d like that.”
Kerry fell asleep then. She dreamed of Silverthorne and of filling it with happy laughing children, and she dreamed of Sam and of growing old with him, and she dreamed of making this big house on the cliff a home for the two of them. And for their children, lots of children.
Sam dreamed, too.
They were flying to Silverthorne, he and Doug, just as they had every year. Doug was the pilot, and he, Sam, was the copilot. They could see all the way to Denali, the highest peak in North America.
“You know,” Doug said, “it looks like clear skies ahead for you.”
“Yeah, well, you never know.”
“Sam. You and Kerry, you’re good together.”
“It took me a while to figure it out.”
“I always said she liked you.”
Sam thought this over. “I didn’t believe you.”
“You do now. That’s what counts. You’ll be a great dad, Sam.”
“I’m going to give it all I’ve got. I love the baby. Never knew how much it would mean to have a son.”
“I wouldn’t count on its being a boy, Sam.”
“Well, a father knows things like this.”
Doug laughed at him then, a long hearty laugh. “Not always. But you know what? This daughter of yours is going to grow up to be a crackerjack pilot. A chip off the old block.”
And then Doug faded away, leaving Sam alone in the cockpit flying the plane.
“Doug, wait,” he called, and he felt so frantic about his friend’s disappearance that he woke up.
Woke up to find Kerry in his arms. Still, the dream was disturbing. If he could have, he would have gone back to find out what Doug meant about his daughter’s becoming a crackerjack pilot. But you couldn’t ever finish dreams.
Or maybe you could. After all, waking up to find Kerry in his arms was a real-life dream come true.
EPILOGUE
Silverthorne Lodge, the following August
“Look, Ellie! There’s a plane!”
The dark-haired baby in the high chair on the front lawn of Silverthorne Lodge regarded the object overhead with an expression of glee. “Dada,” she said with great certainty.
Kerry scooped the baby into her arms and blotted at her drooling six-month-old daughter’s mouth. “Won’t Dada be surprised that you’ve finally got your first tooth?”
“Dada!” Ellie squealed. It was her first word, and she was proud of it. She also loved her father very much, which pleased Kerry to no end.
It was quiet at Silverthorne Lodge today, the last group of tourists having flown out earlier. Sam was ferrying in another contingent this afternoon, and more would arrive on Captain Crocker’s River Rover by nightfall.
They’d fallen into a routine. On Saturday mornings, Sam would arrive, flying in anyone who wanted the thrill of sightseeing Williwaw Glacier from the air. He’d stay as many days as he could until business demanded his return to Anchorage, but so far this summer he’d managed to arrange his schedule so that he could spend most of his time at the lodge.
The lodge was successful beyond Kerry’s wildest dreams. Every room had been reserved since before Easter, and reservations were already pouring in for next summer. Guests liked to hike into the valley, fish in the streams and feast on fresh tuna grilled with Kerry’s special honey marinade. She and her staff provided wholesome activities for children and pure relaxation for adults.
The float plane coasted to the dock, and Sam was the first one out, running full tilt up the slope from the river. Kerry hurried to meet him, and Ellie gurgled in joyful recognition.
“Dada!”
“How are my girls?” He gathered them both into a big heartfelt hug.
Kerry kissed him. “Ellie’s got her first tooth!” she told him.
He took Ellie from her and tickled her neck with his nose until she started to giggle.
“Hmm,” he said. “And a fine tooth it is, too. Say, is that another one I see peeking through?”
“She’s an early teether and an early talker. I bet she’ll walk early, too.”
“Good. When do you think her feet will reach the controls of a plane?”
“Not till she’s a teenager. Mom’s rules.” Kerry slid her arm through Sam’s. “Emma’s coming for a visit next week, don’t forget. She’s planning to bring Serge Lagunoff. He used to prospect for gold around here, he says, and he wants to explore the territory. And the art dealer in Anchorage wants to buy two of Elise’s paintings—if I can bear to part with them.”
“So much going on, as if you don’t have enough to do here! Of course I’ll bring Emma and Serge with me next Saturday, and as for that art dealer, do whatev
er you like. Now what do you say we put our dear little Elise Anderson Harbeck to bed for a nap, and you and I work on making another little Harbeck? A son next time, right?”
“Right. But Ellie doesn’t seem very sleepy right now.”
“Well, of course not. I may have to play with her until she can’t keep her eyes open any longer. And then I’ll get to play with her mommy. The next Harbeck in this family is going to be conceived in the usual way. I got cheated out of the fun last time. Oh, I almost forgot. I brought Ellie something.”
Sam shifted the baby back to Kerry’s arms and pulled a package from his jacket pocket. “A cousin of Schwano’s makes wooden toys, and I commissioned this from him.”
It was a beautifully crafted little floatplane, the finish smooth as silk and all edges rounded so that they wouldn’t pose a threat to a baby.
“She can even play with it in the bathtub. It floats,” Sam explained.
“What does it say on the side?” Kerry reached for the plane and turned it so she could read the writing on the fuselage. “‘Sybilla?’” She regarded Sam with a puzzled frown.
“Well, maybe you don’t really want to know,” he said.
“Sam.”
“There’s no point in getting into it.”
“Now that we’re married, you should be able to tell me everything,” she said slyly.
“Now that we’re married, I’d rather do something else besides talk.” He patted her bottom lightly.
Kerry shot a scandalized look over her shoulder at the passengers disembarking from the plane. “Sam! Someone might be looking!”
“And they’d see a man who is totally in love with his wife and who wants to get her in the sack as soon as possible.”
Kerry handed the toy back to Ellie. “All right. I might as well accept that I may never find out who Sybilla was. And I guess, in the total scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter.”
“Some things just have to remain secret. What matters is that we’re happy. Aren’t we?” His face was gilded by the last golden rays of the sun sinking behind Williwaw Glacier.
“Happier than I ever thought I could be,” Kerry murmured with a kind of wonder.
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