“Nadine, this is a 200-man camp. There are no women here.” She stayed on the seat trying to hold back her tears. “Over the past six years we have had a few women decide to come up for a surprise visit.” He was driving really fast, “Three of them we still have not found.” There were horn blasts and more whoops, but Marc kept his eyes on the road. There were only two options that he had to keep her safe while she was here.
Nadine made every attempt to keep the emotion out of her voice, “Where are you taking me? Back to Fairbanks?”
“Don’t be daft, that is a 16-hour drive on ice roads!” He was yelling at her. Nadine was fighting back the tears but she was not a wimp nor was she going to be intimidated by his high handed tactics.
“Well, where the hell are we going?” She demanded as she sat up in the seat to face him with a hand on her hip.
Marc grabbed her by the hood of her hot pink parka and pushed her back down in the seat, “We are going to get married!”
Chapter Twelve
She thought he was pulling her leg until she saw him pull up in the back of the chapel. While he waited for Bishop to come and get them from the holding room, Marc used the white zip tie to fashion a wedding band. He made two, the second one he put in his pocket. He left enough room on her finger to ensure the makeshift ring would stay on, but not snug enough to cut off her circulation. He fashioned one for himself from a red zip tie, the second one he handed to her to put in her pocket. She wasn’t sure of what to do with it, but kept it anyway.
Nadine soon found out that Bishop, was not his name but his job title, when he came from the vestibule to gather them and had papers for them to sign. Marc signed first, then she signed as Nadine Jordan. He corrected her by asking her to go ahead and sign her married name of Deasley. Bishop said he would fax the forms to HR, but Marc was impatient, and faxed them himself. She didn’t understand when he asked for a few other forms, like conjugal visitation papers, and something else that had a dash 17 Q.
Bishop looked concerned, “Mr. Deasley, shouldn’t we complete the ceremony first?”
Marc shook his head no, “I need it on record that she is my wife before we even enter that chamber with those men.” The fax machine beeped and he waited for the confirmation report. Seconds later it spit out. They headed to the rectory. The church was full of men. “Let’s see her hair Deasley!”
Someone yelled they wanted to see her face. One guy with a raspy voice offered Marc $1,000 for a lock of her hair. Another man offered $5,000 if Deasley would let him come up and “get a sniff of the whiff.” Nadine wasn’t sure if she was trembling from the cold, the fear or the shock of all of this; nobody was going to come up and sniff her anything! Especially not her cupcake! Her groom-to-be stayed cool and focused on the task at hand while Bishop controlled the crowd. All was going well until the silence was broken by a rather large man that offered Marc $10,000 for the panties she was wearing.
Nadine started to unzip her pretty new parka. The look he gave her made her rezip the coat. She whispered to him, “I could pay off my car with that money.” Marc grabbed her by the arm and turned her to face front. Of all things to wear in the midst of all this white snow and ice, a pink parka and pink Timberland boots, really? She may as well have put a bulls-eye on her back.
Nadine was pleasantly surprised when Johnny showed up with some artificial flowers and a veil. The Bishop went through the ceremony and she and Marc were pronounced man and wife. He slipped on her white zip tie ring and she slipped a red one on his finger. He crowd went wild when he lowered her parka hood and flipped up the veil. She heard several audible gasps and one man even said it out loud, “Is that a black girl Deasley just married?” Someone responded, “Well, they are from L.A. you know; they do things different out there.” Evidently that answer must have sufficed; the crowd hushed.
It all faded away when Marc was instructed to kiss his bride, and oohs and ahhs went through the crowd. Several men wanted the honor of kissing her next when Marc unzipped his parka to reveal the 9mm on his hip. He kept his hand on it as they slipped out the back door, got back in the truck and he pushed her head back down in the seat.
This was one hell of a wedding day.
Only management and certain support staff knew the location of the conjugal cabin. Years prior, the company had deemed it necessary to only allow married men to have women on site. It had to be scheduled, approved, and planned. Nadine’s arrival had broken all of the rules. Marc’s only hope had been to marry her right away and get the documentation to the company. Technically, after the fax, he was in compliance. There was a record of her arrival, and documentation on file that he was married; now, to keep her safe until he got her ass on a plane and out of here was a totally different concern.
As he drove to the cabin, Marc explained that most of the men on site were single. The first year of your contract you worked straight through for 18 months; after that, you get a thirty-day break. Men who choose to renew the contract and return have to sign up again for one year, with a 10 day break every six months. “Most of the guys just go to Anchorage to blow off some steam,” he told her as he pushed the truck to about 70 miles an hour across the frozen tundra. This weekend, there was a scheduled celebration before the coldness and harshness of winter kicked in; he mentioned a beast feast of native game and women.
“This is a good thing, they will be distracted and we can slip away,” he said as he looked down at the seat.
Nadine remained quiet because her feelings were still kind of hurt. He still had not kissed her as if he was happy to see her, nor said if he had even missed her. They were married, though. Butterflies had started to roll around in her stomach and for an instant she thought it was something more. Maybe it was just hunger and she still had to pee.
Moments later, they arrived at the cabin. The fire was going and Marc stood her in the corner like a child. His weapon was unholstered as he checked the bedroom, under the bed, looked in the bathroom, pulled back the shower curtain, and even scanned the ceiling and shelves for hidden cameras. When he was finally satisfied, he removed her parka and sat her in front of the fire. With ease and care he removed her boots, her jeans and the sweater she wore underneath. Her feet and hands were checked to ensure she had not gotten too cold and he went back to her ankles and noticed the slight pooch of her tummy. “I need to get you hydrated. It will take care of some of the swelling around your ankles, wrist, and tummy after such an extended flight.”
She had just started to sip at the water when a knock came at the door of the cabin. Marc quickly checked his weapon, and ensured there were enough rounds in the clip while pushing her into the bathroom. Every item of clothing he had removed from her was shoved into her hand, and he put his fingers to his lips indicating that she should stay quiet and hidden. She couldn’t wait any longer, she had to go. It felt as if she peed for at least five minutes.
It was no surprise to Marc to see his supervisor at the door. The only reason Vincent Horne had been allowed inside was to keep the cabin warm. Vincent was one of the best engineers in the world and Marc respected his knowledge on the job, in the field, and trusted him with his life. He did not, however, trust him with his woman. Vincent was the first to speak.
“So I hear you had a live package to arrive, Deasley,” he said while peering over and around Marc’s shoulder.
Marc pulled the papers from his back pocket, “Yes, my wife came for a surprise visit. I have faxed over the marriage certificate to HR and filed the paperwork with corporate letting them know she is on site for a few days.” Vincent knew that Marc was a shrewd man and even commented on it. Marc let nothing slip by him, “I am nothing if not thorough.” The two men stood toe to toe.
Vincent broke the standoff, “Well, Deasley, you going to let me meet the little lady?”
“With all due respect sir, no, I am not.” Vincent Horne was twice as curious now. Since Marc’s return, he had found him staring off into space or smiling for no reason. Several occasion
s when they were patrolling the lines, Marc broke out into sporadic spurts of laughter at thoughts that were running through his mind. There were text messages that had come through in the middle of the night that had left a goofy smile on his best engineer’s face. Whomever he had met must be quite the woman, because the changes he had seen in his number one were astounding. “Marc, we have worked side by side for six years. You seem so happy, I just wanted to say congratulations and shake her hand.”
Marc was not budging, “I will let her know you send your regards.” His hand was now on the hilt of his weapon as he moved forward to back Vincent out the door. His supervisor was not moving.
“Is that her perfume? It is absolutely intoxicating.”
Marc took that statement as a threat, he unsnapped the weapon, “I will be returning to my post shortly sir,” and he opened the door to push the man outside, “I will come and find you then.”
Vincent knew there would be no give. Whoever she was, she must be special.
Marc secured and locked the door when Vincent left. “Nadine, I need you to wash off whatever oil, scent, perfume or soap you are wearing. Do it now!” She hurriedly turned on the faucet to wash her hands, her throat, her wrist and anywhere else she rolled on her favorite oil. When she returned to the living room Marc was coming back inside with a double-barreled shot gun. He loaded two rounds and handed her the box.
“Point, squeeze and shoot anything that comes through that door that is not me, whether it is on two legs or four. Don’t ask questions, don’t hesitate, and don’t try to reason. Point, squeeze and shoot, got it?”
She no longer could help it, the tears began to flow, and she yelled at him, “I just wanted to surprise you for your birthday!” She started to bawl uncontrollably. It had been so long since he had celebrated his birthday that he really hadn’t realized that today he actually turned thirty-six years old.
Marc burst into laughter and took her into his arms. “Well, now I get to celebrate my birthday and our anniversary all in one.” He wiped away her tears and looked her in the eyes. She was still inconsolable, “I even brought a pineapple and fresh veggies to make you a special dinner.” She cried louder. He held her close but she only socked him in the stomach.
“I even learned to fucking cook!” The weapon had dropped to the floor as she flung herself onto the very dusty sofa.
Marc sat beside her and pulled her onto his lap. “This is the best birthday present ever, do you want to know why?”
Like a small child that had experienced a bad dream, she wiped away tears, snot and any other liquids that were currently overtaking her face; for good measure, she even used the back of her sleeve, “Why?”
Marc kissed her lightly on the lips, “Today, I realized how much I truly am head over heels in love with you. I am so in love, I just threatened to shoot my boss for wanting to even look at you.”
“Really, you are in love with me?”
“Yes, my Beauty, I am.”
She threw her arms around his neck and peppered his face with kisses, “I am head over heels in love with you, too!”
They both broke into laughter. Marc knew he had to get back to work, but he could not resist adding, “Well, I guess I don’t need to ask you to marry me now.” She looked at her plastic wedding ring and laughed harder.
He stayed only a few minutes more. Instructions were given on what to do and how to secure the cabin, as he climbed into his truck. “See you when I get home from work, I should be back by seven.”
Now this would be a birthday he would never forget.
Chapter Thirteen
Marc returned to the site at exactly 2 p.m.; considering everything that had transpired in the past hour, he felt it was pretty good timing. Vincent was waiting for him on the loading docks to remove the items which had come in on the plane with Nadine. The fellow he had left at the office had called for another truck to transport the materials back to the site. The two men worked in silence as they unloaded and sorted the materials.
Vincent had tested higher on an exam than Marc, which gave him more points, along with three months seniority in the company, which qualified him to be site supervisor. The two had arrived at Prudhoe Bay at the same time, and pretty much were inseparable; the relationship was based more in friendship than a focus on job titles. Whereas Marc was a supervisor for a crew of fifty men, Vincent oversaw five supervisors.
Supplies sorted, they climbed into the truck to make the afternoon run to check on Marc’s crew who were working the Eight Dash. The oil pipeline was sorted into seventeen sections, each equaling fifty square miles. Each crew would rotate to check the lines, ensure maximum output and check for wear and tear from nature. Vincent rode out each afternoon with a different supervisor, today wasn’t Marc’s turn but he understood why he was in his vehicle.
“So, Deasley, you are now married?”
“Yep.”
They continued to ride in silence. Vincent was trying to find the best tactic to enter the conversation, “So, what made her fly all the way to the Artic to see you?”
“It’s my birthday.”
“Really?
“Yep.”
Technically, they were 1,200 miles south of the Arctic Circle, but Marc didn’t correct him. Vincent drummed on the door panel with his fingers, Marc’s eyes stayed on the road. He was not going to let it go.
“So, Deasley,” he blew out a deep breath as if to clear his lungs, “you and I have worked together for six years. We have fought off poachers, natives who tried to puncture the lines, and even fought off a pack of wolves once.” Marc still said nothing as Vincent continued on with his “we are brothers” speech.
“We have even shared sleeping bags and have, more than once, I might add, slept uncomfortably close for two heterosexual males, to keep from freezing to death.”
“Your point, Vincent?”
“My point is, would you have shot me if I continued toward that room?”
“Yep.”
“Really, Deasley? You would have shot me over a woman?”
Marc was calm in his answer when he looked Vincent square in the face, “Nope, I would have shot you over my wife.”
Chapter Fourteen
At seven o’clock, Nadine heard a truck pull up. Marc had put the ever-loving fear of man into her and she eased her way to the window and peered out at a crack in the curtains. It was him! He was home. A quick look about the Spartan cabin, and she grimaced at the lack of hominess to the place. The furniture was poorly crafted from cut timbers on the site. The mattress was lumpy, the pillows were frightening, and what she found in the night stand would haunt her for days to come. Although she knew what a butt plug was, she had never seen one used and had no interest in finding out the technicalities of such a tool. However, the last user of the device had failed to clean it before sticking it back in the drawer. Tonight was about her and Marc, their future together and love that needed to be made; nasty butt plugs were not a primary focus.
She added two logs to the fire and double checked her settings. In her suitcase, she snuck in a fresh pineapple, some spinach, kale, grapes, and fresh berries. All of the pre-measured ingredients for his cake had been packed with the butter, eggs and sugar in separate, travel friendly containers. She had made him a chocolate birthday cake, with a fresh spinach and berry salad, with grilled pineapple. In the fridge, someone had left two venison steaks that she had tenderized and cooked as part of his birthday dinner.
Marc stepped on the porch, “Beauty, it’s me.”
She unbolted the door and stood behind it as he entered. He looked behind the door to find her standing there in an apron and a pair of red high heels. Her hair was up, she wore red lipstick, and he had never been happier to see anyone in his life. “Happy birthday, Baby!” She presented him with the cake adorned with one lit candle, but his eyes never left her. The reaction she had wanted earlier when he saw her was now being played out. He locked the door and started to disrobe. Nadine was smiling as s
he sat the cake on the table.
“I think I am going to put something on before I catch a cold in my ass,” she turned to leave and the sight of her walking away was more than he could bear. He bolted and blocked the door, blew out the candle, kicked off his boots, removed his parka and unzipped his pants. “Dear Lord, woman!”
He swept her up in his arms and headed towards the small bedroom. Nadine had already turned back the covers on the bed and had drawn him a warm bath.
“Marc, what about your cake?” She asked as she giggled a bit.
“I will have my cake,” he said as he planted small kisses down her torso, “and eat this too.” He attempted to bury his face in her cupcake, but she stopped him. She had planned this evening in her mind for three months; everything needed to be perfect. Slowly, she finished undressing him and led him to the tub. The birthday boy was not very happy when his wife had dressed herself in long johns and bulky socks. The smile came back to his face when he lowered himself into the tub of warm water and Nadine washed every inch of his body with an oversized sponge. Her new husband was left alone to soak a bit more in the tub before he joined her at the table for dinner.
He was quiet as he cut into the venison. She watched his face closely as she sliced into the grilled pineapple. He said nothing as he stuffed a wad of the spinach berry salad into his mouth. The dinner portions were small because there needed to be room for cake; cake which melted in his mouth. How she managed to get it impeccable at this altitude was a question in his mind, but this evening was sitting on the edge of faultless already.
Extra logs had been placed on the fire and the cabin was nice and toasty leaving little room for a great deal of clothing. Marc only wore the towel that he had used to dry off. This would be the perfect end to the evening. “Beauty, this was the best birthday I’ve had in years!” She smiled as she closed out the evening by kneeling in front of him and raising his towel; within seconds he was ready for the party.
A Few More Nights (Slice of Life) Page 5