Cotton Grass Lodge

by Woodbury, DeNise

  “He-lo? Cotto—rass Lod—.” Alice’s voice was scratchy with static.

  “It’s Hanna, I have to talk to Duncan.” She held tight control over the scream building from her broken heart.

  “He isn’t here,—got a call from Califor—an—d—to leave.” Phone service to the lake, like so much of Alaska, was sketchy at best. Something Hanna thought quirky and amusing, until now.

  “But Charlie died. He has to know. I have to talk to him. He has to come. He—” Hanna heard the dead air and knew the call had been dropped. She threw the phone at the wall of glass surrounding the hospital atrium. Her scream came out as a thin high-pitched keen, and she retrieved the two pieces of phone and threw them again at the pavement in front of her. Now she had three pieces of phone to pick up. She stomped on the black odd-shaped battery cover and it shattered. The body of the phone sailed across the shiny concrete when she kicked it, and Hanna followed. A corner of the wall served as back stop for the hockey-puck phone, and Hanna scooped it up and flung it again at the wall this time several pieces came to rest at the feet of a security guard, who couldn’t decide if he needed backup for this particular lunatic.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  Hanna’s legs wouldn’t hold. She collapsed at the man’s feet. Breathless sobs racked her body.

  Hanna spent the first day, after Charlie died, as if clawing her way through cotton packing. She focused on the details. The hospital staff helped as best they could. Someone suggested she order at least ten death certificates. “Ten?” Hanna asked.

  The woman nodded. “At least. You’ll need originals to close accounts, change names—all kinds of things with his name on the account.”

  The bizarre police report needed translation and an officer kindly helped Hanna piece together the curious end to Charlie’s life. When the first officers got to the scene, Charlie was sitting in his truck in the middle of an intersection. He’d put his truck in park and Dog was on the seat beside him. The dog was as dead as Charlie.

  The officer speculated that Charlie had been on his way to the vet with the dog and death intervened. The police impounded Charlie’s truck, it would stay in the impound yard until Hanna got the estate straightened out and the death certificates came.

  Animal control had disposed of Dog’s body, and for some reason that knowledge was harder to take than she expected.

  At ten o’clock Hanna called Carl. “Will you try to find Duncan?” She choked on tears and flushed with embarrassment. A strong woman should be able to handle this, yet the whole day she’d been a sobbing mess. “I need him to call, and I don’t have any numbers. There’s so much to do.” She started to cry again and hung up.

  Each day following Charlie’s death, her attention became scattered across a landscape of pain and anger and fear. Her ability to concentrate evaporated.

  She went to the airport to check on the business. Since scheduling was kept in Charlie’s head or scrawled on the black board, she wondered what she’d find. She brought in three bouquets of flowers from in front of the chain link fence and the color seemed to warm the office.

  She walked into the cavernous hanger and turned off the radio, a constant for all the years she had worked there. Her footsteps echoed, and she caught a whiff of cigarette smoke, in the quiet she waited for Charlie to shout, “Hey, what the hell are you doing to my tunes?”

  At the desk, she picked up the phone and then couldn’t remember who she was going to call. What was left? Hanna squatted in front of the safe, her hands trembling as she reached in and removed a coffee cup, the dregs dried and curled in the bottom. She opened the door wider to take out a stack of papers.

  Charlie had gotten the safe online eight years ago when an insurance man said he could get a better premium if he had a fire safe. The agent didn’t say the safe had to have a door that shut or a combination that worked.

  Hanna went through the documents and called the lawyer whose number and name were on the cover letter.

  “Are you kidding?” Hanna choked and clutched at the pain in her middle. Her breath came in sharp shallow bursts. “Everything?”

  She could do whatever she wanted, because Charlie had not only listed her as an emergency contact but as next of kin and executrix. Everything was hers.

  Hanna couldn’t sleep so she worked on cleaning the hanger and what little sleep she got was on the wet-dog smelling sofa in the office.

  Three days later Hanna held a Celebration of Life at the hanger. It had never been as clean as it was that day.

  People, in the form of Bert, started coming into the hanger at eight o’clock in the morning. “I brung donuts. You got coffee?” Bert demanded. His ratty white beard wandered in patches around his chin.

  Hanna pulled herself off the sofa where she’d been asleep. She stood bewildered and unfocused. Her right eye refused to coordinate with the left. “Did you knock?”

  “No.” Bert dropped a box with two dozen donuts on the desk and put his arm around Hanna’s shoulders. She had never particularly liked Bert, but here he stood in new blue jeans still creased crisply from the store, he had on a brand new shirt as well, only the cap was worn and greasy. “You gonna be all right?” he asked. He patted her cheek gently.

  Hanna nodded. She kept her teeth clenched to keep from crying again. She went into the bathroom. Silently made coffee in the small office pot and after washing her face went back into the office and sat on the sofa. Disoriented, she picked at the torn cuticle on her left thumb.

  Bert put a cup into her quivering hands. “You gonna need more coffee,” he said.

  “I got a big urn for later, but you came before I woke up, Bert. It’s on a table in the hanger.”

  “Good, I know how to make coffee.” Burt dunked a donut. He chewed and swallowed and said, “You look like shit. I’ll be here if somebody comes. You go home and get your duds on.”

  Hanna looked down at her filthy jeans. “Thanks, I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Take your time.”

  Chapter 24

  When Hanna returned at ten o’clock, she was lucky to find a place to park. She held the door for someone carrying a large bag and an electric roasting pan. The tables were being filled with all manner of food. Bert smoothly orchestrated where things went, but Hanna feared Anchorage would have a black out due to all the extension cords strung along the edges of the hanger.

  Crock pots filled with moose stew and baked beans steamed, there were platters of smoked salmon and boxes of pilot bread, cheese, and caribou sausage. All manner of ethnic comfort food fed the grieving friends as they recalled a life well spent.

  Hanna hung in the background. Food was not a comfort she needed.

  Duncan was not at the lodge because he had flown to California several days after she left for this rotation, and no one seemed to have a working phone number. She and Carl had both left messages to no avail. There was no answer at Duncan’s parents’ house either.

  People from all over Alaska came to pay their respects, and the air traffic was steady all day. They misread Hanna’s anger as quiet grief.

  Why didn’t he call me? Where is he? Hanna’s questions raged in an angry circle.

  Carl and Ginger came to Hanna later in the afternoon. Hanna hadn’t cried for almost three hours, but when Ginger hugged her to say goodbye the tears started again. “Hanna, I’m so sorry, if you need anything, you have all our numbers.”

  Hanna nodded.

  “Duncan isn’t a flake, something must have come up.” Carl handed her a paper towel for her tears.

  Where is he? Why hasn’t he called? He doesn’t owe me anything, we slept together, it doesn’t matter, and he’s going to sell the lodge and leave. But where is he?

  Hanna began to cry again.

  She kept seeing people she hadn’t seen for years. Her voice grew hoarse from telling the story of “What happened?”, “Where is Dog?” over and over again. Her head hurt. Tom came toward her from the hanger door and her heart leaped. �
��Have you heard from Duncan?”

  “He called this morning.” Tom wrapped his arms around her. “I came in with Edna and her husband in his plane, Alice sent part of this hug. She had to stay and deal with guests.” Tom stepped back. “Duncan didn’t call ’cause of something wrong with his phone. He’s flying standby he’ll get here as soon as he can.”

  Hanna knew she was being unreasonable. It didn’t matter. Duncan wasn’t here where she needed him. It’s just a summer affair, but why didn’t he call?

  You were gone for a week before he left, why didn’t you call him? The recrimination echoed in her head.

  “I won’t be here.” Hanna hardened her heart. “Tell him I have things to do. I’m going to fly out to Dillingham to see my uncle. He’ll have good advice about what to do with Charlie’s business. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  Placid acceptance wisped over Tom’s confusion. “I’ll tell him.”

  “Thanks.”

  Hanna spent the next two hours helping Bert. When he left she was genuinely appreciative. She was also exhausted, but she parked her car in the hanger and pushed the one-eighty-five out. She couldn’t think of anything that would make her feel better than a flight to Dillingham.

  ****

  Duncan’s flight got to Alaska at one a.m. He took a taxi from the airport to Charlie’s Air Service and stood in the head lights of the taxi staring numbly at the chained gate and a hand printed sign. Charlie Pitts and Damn Dog. Rest in Peace. It was signed by a dozen or more people. Two long stemmed carnations were threaded through holes torn in the paper sign holding it in place at chest height in the chain link.

  Duncan didn’t hear the taxi driver approach and he startled Duncan when he asked, “Did you know Charlie?” The man was standing at Duncan’s elbow.

  “Yes.” Duncan’s pain seemed to be magnified by knowing how much Charlie meant to so many others. Especially Hanna. A sharp point poked into his heart. “I liked him. I’m gonna miss him.”

  “Yeah, he always sounded like a real horse’s ass, but he was a good guy. Too bad you missed the send-off,” the man said. “Musta been hundreds of people in and out of this hanger today. Someplace else you want me to take you?”

  “Yes.” Duncan had the taxi take him to Hanna’s apartment. Along the way the driver told Duncan how Charlie and the dog died.

  Hanna’s apartment was dark and quiet, and there was no sign of her or her car.

  Duncan cursed himself again for a fool. His cell phone charger had gone with him to California. The phone had stayed at the lodge. It seemed like a cosmic conspiracy to keep him from contacting anyone in Alaska. He’d turned off the phone at his apartment months before, and the only neighbor he’d known had moved. His parents were gone to Europe.

  At the time, Duncan had shrugged and accepted being phoneless as a minor inconvenience. For the first three days, it was almost a pleasure to be cut off from the hectic lodge, but in San Francisco surrounded by humanity, he was truly alone. Duncan couldn’t wait to get home. Home to Cotton Grass Lake.

  He’d made arrangements to pack what he wanted to move to Alaska and sell the rest. He’d had to go to brokerage houses and banks, but the money to buy out Carl’s share in the lodge was now in the Cotton Grass Lodge account.

  After he bought a diamond ring, there wasn’t much left. An unaccustomed flutter in his solar plexus made him smile. He wondered if Hanna would like the big diamond he bought. This time it was real, he was crazy about this woman.

  Time, precious time, wasted on waiting. Duncan’s anxiety built over the days until he finally got to a phone. He called Hanna, got no answer and decided not to leave a message. He called the lodge and couldn’t get through. The next day he called the lodge first. “Alice, finally.” The lodge couldn’t have burned down if Alice answered. Relief washed over him. “How are things going?”

  “Duncan, you have to come back.” Through the static Alice’s voice sounded taunt.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Charlie died. Hanna is a wreck. Nobody could find you. The service is today.”

  The taxi took Duncan to Carl’s house. The details of Duncan’s absence were revealed, and Duncan called all of Hanna’s phones and left messages. The next morning after a trip with Aurora Air service Duncan got back to his lodge.

  The air felt sharp and damp, making the light weight California clothes awkward and out of place. Tom and Alice met him at the strip and walking up the rough trail they filled him in on what he’d missed. He was glad to be home, the smell of birch smoke drifting over the lake.

  Chapter 25

  For days his frantic calls and impatient messages to Hanna went unanswered.

  After another restless night, Duncan was up earlier than usual. He couldn’t sleep. Alice came into the kitchen from the back door and as was her routine, put the baby back to bed in Duncan’s room.

  “Did you feed the dog already?” She asked.

  “No, why?”

  “He doesn’t seem to be around. He didn’t walk us home last night as usual, but I didn’t think much of it. But he didn’t come out to meet us this morning. His bowl is still full, so he didn’t eat last night.” Alice poured a cup and together they went to the front of the lodge.

  Duncan whistled and called a couple of times. Nothing.

  “You don’t suppose he went to Tom’s and stayed the night, do you?” Duncan asked.

  “No.” Alice blushed. “Tom was at my place last night. He’s out checking the generator.”

  The idea of something doing harm to the pup bothered Duncan. The animals at the lodge had grown on him. They had jobs and Duncan respected anyone with a good work ethic.

  Tom came in the back door a while later. “I still haven’t seen the dog. He probably ran off and found a better home.”

  “What?” Duncan whipped around and calmed when he saw good humor spreading across Tom’s face. “Why?”

  “Nameless. What kinda name is Nameless? He needs a good solid Alaskan name.” Tom poured a cup of coffee. “Fred, or, I had a dog named Kodiak once, Bear would be a good name. Guest’s ’ud get a kick outa calling the dog, here Bear-Bear, here, Bear-Bear.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Duncan said.

  Alice shook her head. “I’ll make an announcement at ten o’clock. See if anyone’s seen him. He’s worthy of the news,” she said. “I have to order eggs from Edna, too.”

  Anxiety over not hearing from Hanna had Duncan in a knot. The season was slowing down which gave him more time. Time to think about all the things he wanted. He wanted Hanna and she hadn’t called, she hadn’t returned his messages. A serious case of what-the-hell was burning a hole in the lining of his stomach.

  The morning fell into its routine. Duncan and Tom talked about the last few things needed to finish the bathhouse.

  “What do we call the party?” Tom asked. “We have to celebrate you know.”

  Duncan thought for a moment. “We have a June first party, we have Fourth of July, don’t we have something to celebrate the end of the season?”

  “Naw, fish sorta slow down and then moose season starts. Then it gets cold as hell and the crazy snow machiners show up.” Tom leaned against the counter.

  “Sounds like we need a flush party,” Duncan said. “Flush out the summer and get ready for winter.”

  A pained look crossed Tom’s face. “Aw, that was bad.”

  “Ewww, you’re a smart man. Couldn’t you come up with something better than that?” Alice poured scrambled eggs into a pan. “Go. Play host, and get those people to the table.”

  The three guests were fed, and Duncan had them and their luggage down at the strip when the plane arrived.

  The cocky little bastard had been Charlie’s new pilot in June. He got out of the plane, and Duncan helped him get the groceries unloaded and put the luggage for the guests into the back compartment of the plane.

  “Have you seen Hanna around?” Duncan asked.

  “Haven’t seen her
.”

  The fiasco in July was still a sore spot for both men. Duncan could overlook one or two mistakes, but the summer had been full of forgotten packages and sarcasm. “Will you be bringing anything out later today?”

  “Probably not. Today’s my last day.”

  Duncan overlooked his sullen reply, and the young man ignored all but Duncan’s direct questions. Of course it could be because of the time in late July when Duncan had threatened to skin him with cuticle scissors.

  “You just started flying with this outfit, where are you going?” Duncan asked.

  “It’s fall, Dude. Aurora Air’s cutting back on summer pilots, and I’m gonna go back to California. I spent last winter here. I’ll never do it again, almost froze my nuts off.” He jerked on the bill of his cap.

  “Who’s going to fly this route?” Duncan followed the man around the plane.

  “Don’t know. You’ll have to call the office.” His juvenile insolence landed flat on Duncan’s nerves. “Gotta go.” Jeff climbed into the plane, slammed the door, and latched it.

  The plane took off, and Duncan watched it disappear into the horizon. He understood now why Hanna had been apprehensive about changes to the lodge. Duncan didn’t like changes either. Charlie had been grumpy, but he was consistently grumpy.

  Hanna, where are you? Why haven’t you returned my calls?

  A skiff motored slowly across the lake toward Duncan. The cold breeze brushed his face and puffy white clouds reflected in the water. He was glad he had opted for the fleece jacket this morning.

  He rejoiced in what he’d found here at Cotton Grass Lake. His tiny piece of the universe surrounded by harshness. Filled with bears and moose and drunks and sharp-witted women, and more life than he’d ever known possible. Years of striving for fast cars or fast deals and all the time he was headed here.

  Duncan waved, ambled to the dock and waited to help Bill Jefferson and his wife tie up and get out of their skiff. “Good to see you. Are you here for a few days?” he asked.