Cotton Grass Lodge

by Woodbury, DeNise

  Duncan remembered a couple of those girls from his college days. Nice girls, who burned out from trying to compete with the co-eds while working nights and keeping a family together, some even had a kid or two.

  Alice gave him a rueful smile. “Last summer was supposed to be a mini-vacation for us. He got a job as a fish counter here at the lake. It was wonderful. I got to read and hike and get to know all these wonderful people.” Alice drawled into the voice of English melodrama. “Then, I was the victim—of a failed birth control device.”

  “Oops,” Duncan said, “Let me guess. It was entirely your fault.” He lifted his cup to his lips.

  “Yeah.” Alice matched Duncan with a sip of her coffee. “Not only was he angry, but I wouldn’t get an abortion and he said my body was weird, so he wouldn’t touch me. It’s been a year now, and he never touched me. He always had some excuse.”

  The morning sun’s low angle slashed into their eyes and distant voices from upstairs drifted through an open window.

  “Ack, this cup is cold, and you got more information than you ever wanted about my personal life.” Alice stood with an exaggerated shiver, throwing the dregs of her cup over the rail. “And, I better get in gear or those people upstairs are only gonna get cold crispy-rice for breakfast.”

  Duncan waited until the afternoon of the third day before he went to find Tom. He’d gotten so used to working with him. His absence was noticeable. There were a lot of three handed jobs to be done so the days were long and Alice was cranky. Alice was real cranky.

  Guests had taken all the four-wheelers on a picnic, so Duncan walked down the edge of the lake on the path meandering in and out of the trees. He hadn’t realized working hard was so different from walking. Stretching his legs felt good.

  It was also quiet. Odd thoughts floated across his consciousness. He hadn’t been alone except to sleep for weeks, and the only thing he could think of to make this walk better was Hanna. He wanted to share. The aggravating woman was practical and he wanted her opinion on the situation with Tom and Alice.

  A clump of chickadees flitted in and out of sight. Their happy song followed him for a long way.

  He could hear the faint echo of a chainsaw across the lake. The nice couple from Fairbanks. They were spending a long weekend getting firewood up. Her father was visiting from Chicago. It amused Duncan how, in his past experience, hotel guests came and went, but guests at Cotton Grass Lodge and the people he met at the lake became personal friends. The mail brought thank you notes for their visits and reservations for next year. He’d never gotten a personal thank you note when he worked at a hotel.

  As Duncan got closer to Tom’s cabin, he realized working together didn’t mean really knowing a person. He vowed to change the status quo.

  In the shade a nasty swarm of gnats made Duncan pick up his pace, waving his arms and swatting at his ears, he burst out of the brush onto the beach just as a gun went off. His stomach knotted with fear. The raw, open wound of John’s suicide still rankled, punctuated by the rotten smell of a fish carcass at the edge of the lake.

  He saw Tom, sitting in a folding lawn chair on his short dock, which consisted of two fifty-five gallon drums cobbled together with plywood and two-by-fours. But it got a man far enough into the lake to drown a worm once in a while, and Tom had a twelve foot skiff tied to it for the occasional trip.

  Duncan jogged the twenty-five yards of rough gravel shore. His voice carried ahead of him, “Hey, I’ve heard of shooting fish in a barrel—but, this isn’t going to work.” He got to the end of the dock, “What are you doing?”

  Tom flushed and even through the beard and long hair Duncan could see evidence of what could have been tears. Tom wiped his shirt-clad forearm across his nose. “I’m havin’ a funeral.” Tom reached down into the case of liquor sitting beside his chair and hefted out a brand new unopened bottle of Jack Daniels.

  A rifle rested across his lap and as he carefully unscrewed the cap from the bottle he started talking. To the bottle. “God, we’ve had some good times. Remember the bar in Dutch Harbor? Ho-ly Shit. I had two women at one time and one of the best fights I’ve ever been in. Damn it was fun.” Tom gently tipped the bottle over and watched the amber liquid fall into the lake. Light slanting through the trees reflected off the huge sparkling drops splashing around the stream of liquor. When the bottle was completely empty Tom shook it to make sure the last drop was gone. He screwed the lid back on the bottle, and muscles bunched across his shoulders as he threw it as far as he could out into the lake.

  Still directing his comments toward the bottle he continued. “Right. The bar in Dutch. I got a serious case of the clap, broke my nose, spent two days in jail pukin’ my guts up, and missed my boat. The captain was pissed ’cause he had to hire green crew and he wouldn’t hire me back the next season.” Tom took careful aim at the bobbing bottle and blasted it to smithereens.

  Tom yelled out into the lake. “I never been afraid of anything in my life.”

  From where he stood at the end of the short dock Duncan asked, “What are you afraid of now?”

  Tom turned his ravaged face toward Duncan. “I want Alice. I mighta’ screwed up my chance, but I want Alice. I’m scared this won’t be enough and—what if I can’t live without the booze?”

  “Tom. We take life one step at a time and do our best with what we’ve got. You know the score.” Duncan said. “Talk to Alice.”

  “Will she talk to me?” Tom said.

  “I hope so. She’s been meaner than a snake since you left,” Duncan said. “And I need my hired man back. Tom, I need your help. So—tomorrow?”

  Tom looked down into the box. There was a long, quiet hesitation, “I guess so.”

  “So—okay—see ya then.”

  Tom killed two more bottles before Duncan got out of earshot.

  Chapter 21

  Fall. Duncan noticed the changes each morning. Colors stepped up the hills in lines of distinct demarcation from green to yellow to red.

  Tom came out onto the porch and hesitated in front of the large willow-twig loveseat. “Excuse me,” he said. Frosty looked up from his spot in the middle of the cushions and flattened his stubby ears. The cat moved to one end of the chair as Tom settled into the other. “What’s up for the day, Boss?”

  “Don’t call me that.” Duncan was having trouble getting used to seeing Tom with short hair and a neatly trimmed beard. “What’s the smell? The old socks, almost wet dog, but not quite, smell?”

  “Mushrooms or cranberries, I can’t ever decide which.” Tom nodded and shrugged. “I was thinking I’d just keep working on the bath house, we’re close to being finished.”

  “Before you get to that the bath house, will you look at the red four-wheeler?” Duncan asked. “Someone said it started hard.”

  “Okay.” Tom reached out and ran a hand over the cat. “I got something to ask.”

  Thing are working so well. Now what? “Uhh-huh?”

  “Alice needs to go into Anchorage to see a lawyer before she signs those divorce papers. I want to go with her. Can you spare us both for a few days? We’d have Jacob check in on you and Edna’s close.”

  “Don’t you think I can handle my own lodge?”

  “No.” Tom continued to pet the cat.

  Duncan heard a burst of laughter from the living room where Alice had been eavesdropping. She stuck her head around the corner of the door. “Of course you can. But I need to do some shopping, Emily has outgrown everything she owns, and winter is coming I need some warmer clothes. My paychecks won’t bounce will they?”

  Duncan exhaled in relief. There would be the inevitable change in staff, but not yet. “Yes, you can both go, and if you don't come back, I’ll put a stop pay on all of those checks.” He turned to Tom. “Yours, too.”

  One week later, Duncan woke when he smelled coffee. He lay in the cozy burrow of down comforter and reviewed the month. Overall, a success. Nell was gone—still. Tom was sober and working every day, and
the guides were talking about the transition from fish to moose and bear. They’d gotten good tips this year. The fish had shown up when they were supposed to but what he knew about hunting you could write on the head of a pin.

  The septic system was what got him excited now. The rustic allure of an outhouse had faded rapidly.

  Duncan heard the faint drone of an airplane and the soft murmur of Alice answering the call on the radio. It was too early for guests. Duncan recalled the list for the day. There were two propane tanks due. He couldn’t think of another reason the airplane was on his strip.

  He dozed again and for just a minute the fabric caressed his naked body, reminding him Hanna would be back from her flight schedule soon.

  Hanna, perhaps it was Hanna flying in. Duncan threw the covers off and dressed quickly. There was nothing like a demanding lodge in the middle of nowhere to dampen a raging libido. What was it about her? What was he going to do about her?

  Duncan dressed. He stopped in the kitchen for a cup of coffee and detoured to the desk for the schedule book. There had been sharpness in the morning air for the last week. It foretold the end of the season, but he wasn’t willing to give up his morning ritual yet.

  Alice and two men with cups in their hands were focused intently out the front window. “Dude,” said one of the men. “Is he coming up the steps?”

  Duncan’s hand rested on the door handle. Rested there, cactus like perception nailed the back of his neck, “Is who what?” He shouldered his way into the cluster of people and looked out the window just as a bear poked his nose over the top of the steps.

  “Well, damn it.” Alice turned with purpose and marched toward the kitchen.

  Duncan tossed the daily logbook onto a small table beside the couch and put his coffee cup on top of it. Then he reached for the rifle hanging above the door and pleaded with the lodge gods. The last thing he wanted or needed was a dead bear on the front porch. The curious guests were clustered now at the far side of the large window giving themselves room to bolt for the stairs if need be.

  Duncan took the gun back toward the window to peek out and see where the bear was when Alice breezed by him. She ripped open the door and began screaming incoherently as she violently banged a large metal spoon and a pot together.

  The young grizzly bear stumbled backward off the porch and rolled down the steps. He righted himself and sprinted down the yard toward the shore of the lake, his beautiful blonde-tipped coat rippling over his fat hindquarters.

  “Breakfast is ready.” Her clear, innocent smile made Duncan laugh out loud.

  “So… thank you, Alice.” Duncan gestured into the kitchen. “Gentlemen? Shall we?”

  Alice paused to let the guests file past her, “Duncan, there’s an Aurora Air plane landing soon, Charlie is with him. He wanted to make sure you were here.”

  “Humm, do you know why?”

  “Nope, they have the propane we ordered though.” Alice nodded toward the breakfast buffet. “Duty calls, Tom said he’d go down to the strip.”

  “Who landed earlier?”

  “The Jacksons, they’re gonna be here for the weekend.”

  “Thanks.” Duncan hung the rifle back where it belonged and gave up on sitting on the porch. He flipped open the book to check the day’s date, satisfied he put it back on the desk and went to graze the breakfast buffet.

  “Get a plate,” Alice hissed.

  “You’re fired,” he hissed back. Duncan folded a piece of toast around two slices of bacon and started down to the strip.

  The fresh, cool morning wrapped around him. Tom and Nameless were sitting on the four-wheeler when Duncan joined them.

  The plane bumped onto the strip, and they could feel a formal difference in this delivery. Charlie stiffly got out of the plane and the pilot joined him as they walked to where Duncan and Tom were waiting.

  “Charlie,” Duncan said and shook hands. “Not used to seeing you as a passenger.”

  “Not used to being a passenger.” Charlie stepped back and Duncan and the pilot also shook hands, as Charlie finished the introductions. “This is Heinz.” Charlie said introducing the man, “I’m not gonna even try to pronounce his last name.”

  The pilot smiled. “Heinz works fine. Good to meet you. Tom.” He nodded, “Good to see you again.”

  “Yup. You too.” Tom answered.

  There was an awkward pause before Charlie said. “Hell, I’ll just get right to it. I’m giving the accounts up here at the lake to Heinz. He runs a decent outfit, even if he is a foreigner.”

  Heinz chuckled. “I’m only as good as you trained me to be old man.” His accent faint and his affection for Charlie apparent.

  “Well, anyways, don’t make sense to drag something out. Dog is gonna close the business. Ain’t nothin’ I can do about it. Alice got fresh coffee?”

  “I’ll unload the plane.” Tom offered.

  Duncan nodded his thanks and motioned Charlie and Heinz toward the lodge. Heinz hadn’t been on the Cotton Grass strip this season, so they talked about the lodge and didn’t get into any changes to Charlie’s routine until they settled, with coffee, into Duncan’s de facto office, the porch.

  The details seemed relatively painless, but Duncan’s touchiness matched Charlie’s sullen acceptance of Heinz’s position. Heinz would be easy to work with, and Duncan soon liked the man. A hand shake sealed their agreement.

  “We got other stops,” Charlie said, “better stop yakkin’ and get on with it.”

  “Have you talked to Hanna?” Duncan asked Charlie. The two men were watching Heinz and Tom load the gear of the two guests waiting to leave.

  “Yeah, I did. She’ll still have my planes to use until I decide what to do with ’um.” Charlie spat on the ground to the right of his boot. “She’s a keeper, ya know. I’d hate to see her unhappy.”

  Duncan flushed and stuck his hand out toward Charlie. “I’d hate to see her unhappy, too. You take care of yourself. I’ll see you next time I get to town.”

  Duncan went back to the lodge and separated the mail Charlie and Heinz brought. The letter from Paul and Pamela was a nice distraction. The final paperwork for Grandfather Mahoney’s estate needed a couple of signatures, and Paul had a business trip to Japan. He and Pamela would make a one day stop in Anchorage on the way and finish the family business.

  “Perfect,” Duncan said. The intense three months of the fishing season was winding down, and there were actually a few rooms open each week. Jacob had advised Duncan to take a break before moose hunting started. He said there was a whole different clientele.

  He picked up the phone to call Hanna and talked instead to her answering machine. “I wondered if you’d go out on a date with me, a real date, in Anchorage.” Duncan grinned and hung up. It would feel good to get away from the lodge.

  Chapter 22

  Duncan watched his mother and father walk through the security doors at Anchorage International Airport and dropped his arm from where it was caressing little circles in the middle of Hanna’s back.

  He knew his mother too well. She’d planned something, and if Victoria stepped out from behind his father, Duncan would simply not be surprised.

  He couldn’t help the caution flares igniting in his mind. Hanna seemed so comfortable, and once the hellos were over she even suggested Paul and Pamela use her car for their short visit.

  “Oh no, we’ll just get a cab, but thank you for the offer,” Paul said.

  “Hanna, I hope you haven’t forgotten my invitation to join us for dinner this evening.” Pamela’s smile made Duncan’s skin crawl.

  “Thank you, I—”

  Duncan interrupted Hanna’s answer, “Mom, we don’t want to drag Hanna into one of our family dinners. She probably has things to do.”

  “I’d love to join you.” Hanna gave Duncan a vacant wide-eyed look he hadn’t seen before—on her. She wasn’t like the women he knew who practiced the look. It took him by surprise.

  “There, see?” Pamela sai
d, “She has to eat, and a meal with us won’t be difficult. Unless, you don’t want us to enjoy her company.”

  Tension ratcheted up a notch, he expected his mother was planning something wicked. Subjecting Hanna to a family dinner was tantamount to a blood sacrifice. He had seen it happen more than once.

  Pamela would start with clothes, move to politics and religion, and then the double barracuda strike of upbringing and background.

  Duncan sent a pleading look in Hanna’s direction to change her mind. If he could just keep her away from his mother until they were more firmly committed to each other he might have a chance. He wanted this little get-away from the lodge to be special not ruined by his mother.

  Hanna smiled blankly.

  What the hell is that? “I understand you’re staying at the Hotel McKinley?” Hanna asked. “They have a lovely view over the Inlet from their restaurant.”

  “Yes, they do.” Pamela seemed pleasantly surprised. “You know the McKinley? Well then, we won’t have to give you directions. We’ll make the reservations for six-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there.” Hanna’s lilting agreement made Duncan very uneasy. He had never sensed manipulation from her before. He liked her blunt straightforwardness. He enjoyed her separation from the world he came from. He always knew exactly where Hanna stood. Now, he was responsible for leading her into the world he left behind. A lamb to slaughter. His stomach churned.

  Duncan wanted to grab her arm and drag her back to the lodge, to protect her. Instead he accepted a quick peck on the cheek as she turned and strode away into the crowd.

  “This will be good. Duncan, you need to see how a woman fits into all situations before you condemn yourself to a lifetime with her.”

  “Condemn myself? Is this what dinner is all about?”

  “I’m doing you a favor, dear.” Pamela’s smug dismissal of her malice made him sick to his stomach.