“I like it.” She grinned. “I just don’t need to talk about it all the time. Don’t let my supper get cold, old man, fifteen minutes.”
When Duncan got back to the lodge four hours later, his mood was much improved. The far-reaching conversation, over dinner with neighbors, was not what he had expected. Edna and Harv were intelligent and remarkably well read. Their library was worthy of note should he ever have enough time to actually sit still to read, instead of fall into exhausted sleep.
Chapter 8
For the first time she could remember, Hanna was impatient with the flights for Charlie. It had been a long two weeks since she’d been to her cabin. Spring dashed head-long onto summer in Alaska, so she wondered how the new guy had made out since she’d seen him. Had he left? Had he burned the lodge down? Was he still as handsome?
When she got into the office at seven the schedule board was remarkably barren for this time of year. Hanna’s planned trip to Cotton Grass Lake was delayed by an early morning flight to Port Allsworth, their groceries and mail included the peeping of new chicks.
She flew back to Anchorage through the Lake Clark pass. As she flew, she tried to fix a name for her uneasiness. She liked her job, at thirty-six she was doing well financially. Charlie, the old coot, was undemanding as long as she took care of business. So, what was wrong?
Hanna landed and went into the office. “Hey, Dog, what’s up?” She sat on the office chair and spent a minute petting the gray-muzzled old dog who stood with her head in Hanna’s lap, eyes closed in ecstasy.
Charlie had found Dog on an abandoned airstrip sixteen years ago. Could it be? It seemed like only yesterday, and now the half-frozen husky pup was an old crippled dog having trouble wagging her tail.
“Don’t be nice to Dog, she’ll start expect’n it.” Charlie, sitting on the couch, snapped the newspaper as he changed pages. His voice sounded as tired as Hanna felt.
A stitch of apprehension wedged between leaving soon and remembering how long she’d cared about Charlie. “If you’ve only got the usual for Cotton Grass this week—” Hanna nodded toward the board on the wall. “—there’s no rush for when I go. Why don’t you let me buy you lunch? We’ll go someplace nice.”
“Nice?” Charlie answered with suspicion. “What are you going to do, quit on me?”
“No.” Hanna grinned. “I’m allowed to be nice to you. I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”
“I ain’t gettin’ cleaner than I am right now,” Charlie grumbled. “But I will wash my hands.”
“Good,” she said. “Shut off the coffeepot while you’re in there.”
“Hurmp.”
Hanna loved this banter. She’d always known how to read Charlie. Perhaps being raised by two grandmothers instead of a regular family made her more tuned in. She watched his clean jeans and tidy work shirt emerge from under the greasy overalls.
“Have you got enough money for three dinners?” Charlie asked as he emerged from the bathroom. He always asked if she had enough money.
Hanna nodded. “I do. But you have to promise not to give Dog chicken bones.” She waited. “Promise.”
“Nazi.” Charlie reached down and thumped Dog on the shoulder. “What makes you think we’re going for chicken?”
“Because, every time we go out, we go to Vera’s Diner.” Hanna held the door for Charlie and the dog. “Make her sit in the backseat and no smoking in my car.”
“Nazi!”
****
A leap of pleasure filled Duncan later in the afternoon when he heard Hanna on the radio clearing her airspace.
He and Tom had just finished with the tedious four-hour chore of cleaning and dusting the wall above the hearth. Smoke and cob-webs clung to the moose and caribou antlers, picture frames, and the logs of the wall. It took two extension ladders and both Tom and Duncan to remove everything from the wall, clean it, and replace everything they took down. Of course it had required cleaning the stove pipe as well.
Tom carefully took the eight inch black pipe down from the stove and where it connected to the exterior chimney and rejoiced when he didn’t get any soot on the floor as he carried it outside.
“Holy shit.” Tom called five minutes later, “Duncan, come out here and look at this.” He stood beside the pipe where it rested on two sawhorses in the front yard.
Duncan went down the steps. “What?” The look on Tom’s face didn’t bode well for the stove pipe.
“You gotta add new stove pipe to the infinite list you keep. Look here.” He ran the spiraled stove-pipe brush into the tube clogged with soot and creosote. A foot into the pipe the steel spines of the brush went through a paper thin spot to the outside of the pipe. “Only the Gods kept this place from burning to the ground.”
Duncan got light headed for a moment thinking of the roaring fire he’d had the night before. “I guess we’re done for the day, this pipe won’t be going back inside.”
“Good plan,” Tom said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hefted the dead stove pipe. “I’ll take this to the dump-ditch on my way home.”
Nameless barked and leaped enthusiastically at the big stick Tom seemed to be carrying. When Tom dodged, black soot rained down across the puppy’s back. “It’s a good thing he’s your pain-in-the-ass damn dog.” Tom’s exasperation matched Duncan’s.
Tom gathered up two more sections of pipe and headed toward the trail behind the lodge, swearing at Nameless at every third step.
Fatigue flooded Duncan’s body, a good tired he had come to be pleased about since it meant another night of dreamless sleep. He’d had only a scattering of customers so far, and the next ones weren’t due until later this week.
The drone of an airplane got his attention. He drove the four-wheeler down the trail to the strip. Duncan warmed at the sight of Hanna where she squatted tying the plane down. “Hi, I’m glad you came back. I was hoping you knew when I ran Nell and Victoria off two weeks ago I didn’t include you.”
“Naw, besides, I live here. I just won’t ever eat lunch with you again.” Her emotionless face caught him off guard.
“But.” His blood thickened and pooled around his lungs.
Hanna’s laugh was warm, her face crinkled into a smile. “Gotcha.” She handed him a cloth bag with ‘CG Lodge’ stenciled on the side. “Mail.” She glowed in the golden afternoon sunlight, a halo of tiny flying insects circling her head.
In the tranquil evening, the flurry of hovering bugs diverted to Duncan and enveloped his head. He grabbed the bill of his cap and swatted. “Bless you!” Duncan opened the bag to make sure the newspapers were included. “I don’t care about the bills, but three day old news, now there is something to get excited about. Can I talk you into a cup of coffee or something?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“You’re an old-timer up here, and I didn’t get to talk to you at all last time. I guess I want to show off a bit. We’ve gotten a lot done.” He flushed in youthful enthusiasm.
She pointed at his cheek. “But it’s obvious how hard you’re working. Cleaned any stoves lately?”
Duncan wiped his hand across his face, and black soot smeared from his ear across his cheek to his hand. “Oh great, there goes the good impression I was trying to make.”
Nameless raced toward them when they approached the lodge, barking and racing in circles.
“Don’t touch him. He helped clean the stove, too.” Duncan pointed at the dog, “Knock it off—Bed!” The pup’s delirium deflated, and he headed toward the back porch. “That worked for a change.” He swept his arm ahead of them, and they went up the front steps.
After they fixed two cups of tea, Duncan and Hanna strolled and talked. Finally, he set a fire in the sauna, and they continued back into the lodge.
“Duncan, I’m impressed.” Hanna stood in front of the pipe-less stove. “The lodge hasn’t looked this clean in years. The clients loved Nell and Harry, but there’s a fine line between rustic and run-down. Whenever I asked if I cou
ld help, Nell would go into overdrive about how the clients had to take what they got.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” Duncan warmed with gratitude. He had worked hard, and it was nice someone noticed. Especially nice when Hanna noticed. “Would you stay for supper?” He glanced at his watch—ten o’clock. He laughed. “A late supper.”
“No.” Hanna gave a wan smile. “It’s been a long day for me, too. I have to go. I’ll check my shed. I think I have just enough eight-inch pipe for your stove. Instead of paying me, you can just replace what I give you.”
“Oh, thanks but you don’t have to—”
Hanna held up her hand. “Stop. That’s the way it works. Now, say thank you and leave it.”
Duncan sputtered and Hanna held her hand up again and smiled.
“Uhh, thank you,” he said, another lesson learned.
****
Late the next morning, Hanna met Duncan at the lodge with the eight inch black stove pipe. “I slept in,” she said. It didn’t happen often, but guilty pleasure elicited a little embarrassment. “Do you need anything from town? I have to make a quick run over to Willow. This is sort of a working weekend off.”
“I can’t think of anything except…” Duncan thought for a moment. “The fabric came for the kitchen doors, but I’m no seamstress. Do you know if someone up here has a sewing machine?”
Hanna heard his earnest question. He didn’t use an ounce of manipulation. Nice. “I think Edna has a machine we could borrow,” she said. “Of course you could broadcast tomorrow morning on the news to find someone else.”
“The news?” Duncan tilted his head just slightly and she found it quite charming.
“Haven’t you noticed about ten o’clock every morning on the C.B. there’s a flurry of chatter?”
“On channel twelve, right?”
“The news.” Hanna drew her mouth into a line. He had so much to learn. “June is coming, monitor daily and you’ll be happier for it. Gotta go fly, see you tomorrow.”
After lunch the next day, Hanna brought her tiny hand operated sewing machine. She hemmed the yards and yards of blue and white checked fabric Duncan had purchased to replace the curtains and cabinet covers in the kitchen.
Duncan joined her late in the afternoon. “Thank you so much for doing this,” he said.
“You’re welcome. Besides, you may be a good cook, and I’m going to expect dinner out of this deal. Here, hold this.” She stood up from the table and handed the end of a wide swath of fabric to him.
Together they worked for another hour hanging curtains and threading fabric on the springy hangers over the cabinets.
They laughed through a large serving of fettuccini alfredo and ended the evening watching the bon-fire and discussing politics.
Duncan found her to be a challenging and charming woman. Challenging and charming weren’t all the things he found to like about her, either.
As they sat enjoying the evening, a plane flew over and waggled its wings. Hanna waved back from her seat.
“Do you know everyone flying over this lake?” Duncan asked.
“Heavens, no.” Her laugh, robust and genuine made another inroad into his surprised pleasure in her company. “I’m just being polite.”
“Would you like another glass of ice tea?” he said.
“Thanks, but I’m floating now. I’ve got to get back. Early flight for me.” She stood and brushed the seat of her jeans. “If you think of anything make sure it’s at the plane before I leave at six.”
“So early?”
“It’s daylight. No rest for the wicked.” She smiled and swatted mosquitos. “I’ll leave the four-wheeler at the strip.”
“Okay, my hard-liner friend. I expect a rematch of this debate when you return.”
“You sure you can handle the pressure you bleeding-heart liberal?”
“Ha-I’ll be prepared next time.” Duncan was sorry to see her go.
Chapter 9
A woman’s screams slashed into the upstairs room Duncan was sleeping in. He rolled over. Five thirty, as in a.m., as in too damn early, as in what the hell could be wrong now? He threw the down comforter off and pounded down the stairs. Standing at the back door, clad only in cut-off sweatpants, his feet reminded him his slippers were still upstairs under the bed.
Adrenalin flooded through his body, “What’s happening?” Duncan demanded of the woman standing by the back door.
“It was huge and brown and it…at first I thought it was a bear.” The woman stuttered and laughed self-consciously from inside the mudroom door.
Duncan’s heart thundered in his ears when he pushed past her to look out. Big and brown and…“Moose,” he said
The tall cow pulled one of last year’s potted plants off the eve of the porch. The pot swung precariously from a mouth full of twigs still attached to the pot. It hit the ground with a thump, and the moose nosed it and continued to chew.
The guest clutched herself, bunching the oversized sweatshirt around her middle. A pair of man’s boxers peeked out from under the oversized sweatshirt. Her sleepy-eyed husband rounded the corner into the mudroom and slid into Duncan. All he had on were a pair of boxers. The red hearts scattered all over them matched the ones his wife wore. He slid an arm around his wife.
Duncan smiled, happy there was no blood.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I wasn’t prepared for meeting a moose all up close and personal.” She laughed again. “I stepped out of the outhouse, and it was just there.” She flung her arms out. “Right in front of me.”
Duncan gave up on his last half hour of sleep. He grabbed the screen door, banged it twice, and hollered, “Go away!” The moose startled and trotted between the buildings out of sight. “We give you the true Alaskan experience. The coffee will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
The chattering couple followed him as he headed back up the stairs to dress.
Today he planned to move into the room he still thought of as Nell’s room. She’d been gone three weeks, and the room he’d been using would soon be needed for guests. With Tom’s help he had emptied the bedroom, cleaned, and repainted. Everything was finished except making the bed and moving his suitcase.
The moose hadn’t returned when he came downstairs. Duncan added ‘remove dead potted plants’ to his morning list. The list was several weeks outdated, but he had a list.
He made coffee and set the table for a rudimentary breakfast. While he worked around the kitchen, he wondered if Tom knew someone else he could hire. Nell had mentioned others, but by the time she finally left the last time, he didn’t even want to ask her what time it was. The woman made him nuts.
Unlike this morning, Duncan usually had time before his guests started to mill around. For the last two weeks, he’d used the treasured early hour to greet the day from his front porch and go over the client book. Nell had scrawled names onto the pages with dates and times, and none of the information seemed attached to reality. The middle-aged couple upstairs right now had been listed for next week. When they’d flown in with Charlie two days ago for a second honeymoon, Duncan had met them with hydraulic oil dripping off an elbow and no idea what he was going to feed them. They’d been enchanted with his caribou stew. So had he. Chunks of caribou instead of beef. Follow the recipe. Presto.
The rumble of four-wheelers got Duncan’s attention. He dropped the client book back onto the desk and carried his cup toward the back of the lodge. His ear had become attuned to the sounds of the different machines his neighbors owned. Edna delivered eggs on a coughing, twenty year-old ATV. It simply wouldn’t quit. Tom’s was well tuned and quiet.
He stepped out the door onto the porch and greeted his neighbors from the north end of the lake. The two men, between them, had come with three half grown boys. Early morning quiet eddied around the three machines when they stopped and parked in front of the generator shed.
“Good morning, guys.” Duncan raised his voice to reach the group. “The coffee’s hot.” Dunca
n had quickly learned the busy day he planned at seven a.m. quite often didn’t happen the way he’d laid it out. By now, each day lengthened at the rate of more than five minutes per day. Planes came and went on his strip until late at night. The longer the days the more enthusiastic and industrious the lake dwellers got. It was full daylight at eleven at night, and he wondered if he needed to hire someone just to handle the radio traffic. He’d already met two new sets of neighbors this week.
“Morning Duncan.” One of them called as the group disembarked from their four-wheelers. “But if we don’t have the tables ready when the girls get here, we’ll have hell to pay.”
“Tables?” A premonition of doom blossom in the pit of his stomach. “When what girls get here?”
All five of them turned to stare at Duncan. “Don’t you know what day it is, man?”
“I think it’s the first of June.” Duncan’s mind scrambled to remember what else was written in the ledger for June. Cryptic notes filled most pages. ‘Provide drinks’ was at the top of the page this morning. What the hell has she left for me now? “What’s going on?”
Jacob set about giving directions to his own two sons. The boys hustled off toward the storage shed with the third, younger boy in tow. Nameless barked happily and joined them.
Jacob and the other man stepped up on the porch.
“She didn’t tell you about June first?” asked Jacob, his lanky frame clad in worn jeans and a clean long-sleeved shirt rolled to the elbows. He nodded to his companion. “This is my brother, Mathew, that littlest boy,” he nodded toward the children, “is his son Ezekiel.”
The two men were open and pleasant, like everyone else Duncan had met up here at the lake. Mathew shyly shook hands and leaned against a burled porch post, “We usually finalize the agreements for the season at the June first party. Did she tell you about anything?”
Duncan shook his head. “Gentlemen, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” His idea of a little lodge in the woods was spiraling out of his control.
Cotton Grass Lodge Page 8