Ashes and Ice

by Tracie Peterson

  Miranda was speechless. She could scarcely believe what he was saying. Here was the man she had only moments ago allowed such an intimate moment with denying the very God she served.

  “I . . . don’t . . . I never . . .” She halted, having no idea how to reply.

  Crispin seemed to understand and turned back to the lake. “Give it no thought, my dear. It needn’t come between us. I’m perfectly content to allow you to go on with your practices. It doesn’t change my regard for you.”

  Miranda could stand it no longer. “Well, it changes mine for you,” she replied and started to go.

  “Wait, don’t leave. I know you’re confused,” he called. Once again he abandoned his fishing pole and came to her. He reached out to touch her, but Miranda pulled away. “Don’t let this come between us. Why should it bother you that I see no need for such matters? My educational training and life travels have proven to me over and over that there is no such thing as a divine being. And even if, on some remotely distant chance there is, I know He has no interest whatsoever in the daily lives of human beings. I mean, how very audacious of us to presume upon something like that.”

  “How can you say that?”

  He shrugged. “How can I not? I’ve traveled the world over and experienced many different religions and cultures. Everyone has some notion of spiritual matters. Americans certainly haven’t captured the market on it, if that’s what you think. Why, I have sat in the presence of many great men who expounded on issues of faith. I believe that such matters are better left to those who need them.”

  “But we all need Jesus,” Miranda said, unfaltering.

  He smiled. “My dearest, don’t you see? Everyone needs something. You won’t hear me say otherwise. Please don’t let it come between us that I have different ideas. Perhaps in time you will come to better understand my beliefs, but in the meanwhile you’ll get no umbrage nor disdain from me in regard to what you desire to believe.”

  “I’m sorry,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “I have to go. I don’t understand you, and I don’t wish to continue this conversation.” “Give it some thought, my dear,” Crispin replied. “You’ll see. Life is much too short and sweet to worry over such conventions.”

  ————

  It was nearly midnight before the camp grew quiet and the obvious sounds of sleep could be heard. Occasionally Leah coughed and Crispin snored, but otherwise gentle rhythmic breathing filled the air.

  Karen, however, couldn’t sleep. Nestled there between Grace and Leah, she longed for her husband’s arms. This is my wedding night. I should be with Adrik.

  They had already agreed to delay their consummation, given their travel situation. Had they managed to obtain a separate tent or had the nights been less cold, they might well have chosen otherwise. And Adrik had promised her they’d rent a room in Hootalinqua, but that was a whole day away.

  Knowing trying to sleep was an exercise in futility, Karen slipped out of her bag and pulled on her boots. Without bothering to lace them, she pulled on her coat and unfastened the tent flap.

  The crisp night air hit her face, but in the moon’s brilliant light, Karen could see Adrik standing a little ways from the fire, as if waiting for her to come to him. Eager to be in his arms, she hurried to cross the distance and tripped on her laces.

  Adrik caught hold of her before she fell, but it threw him off balance and sent him onto his backside with a dull thump. He took Karen with him, pulling her protectively across his lap. Surprised, Karen looked up and smiled.

  “You do have a way of getting right to the heart of things, don’t you, Mr. Ivankov?”

  Adrik chuckled softly. “I wasn’t the one throwing myself at folks.” He pushed back her loose hair. “You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamed of this.”

  “What? Having me trip over my own feet?”

  “Nah, I saw plenty of that on the trail. No, holding you like this is what I dreamed of.”

  She sighed and nuzzled her lips against his neck. “Me too.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she added, “I couldn’t begin to sleep. It just didn’t seem right that I couldn’t be with you.”

  “I know. I felt the same way.”

  Karen lifted her face to his and leaned forward to kiss him. She had very little experience in such matters, but prayed that she might please him. Oh, God, she thought, I only want to make him a good wife.

  She needn’t have worried, however, for Adrik’s low moan of satisfaction told her he was quite content with her forward action. She touched his chest, feeling his heart racing—the beat clearly matching her own wild pattern. How marvelous to know this feeling. How wondrous to share this kind of love.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” Karen whispered against his lips.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he murmured as his kisses trailed up to her ear. “But I think you must.”

  She nodded even as he kissed the lobe of her ear. “I’ll leave in a few minutes.” Reaching up, she lightly massaged the skin at the base of his neck. His skin felt so warm and inviting. She blushed at the thoughts that ran through her mind.

  In the distance a wolf cried out in lone adoration of the night. Soon other cries followed, and Karen startled. “They won’t bother us, will they?”

  Adrik shook his head and smiled. “You have nothing to fear. I’ll never let harm come to you so long as there is breath in my body.”

  She forgot about the wolves’ serenade and looked deep into her husband’s dark eyes. “I love you so much, Adrik. I didn’t know it was possible to love another human being this much.”

  “I know,” he said nodding, “I feel the same way. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  “I want to be a good wife to you,” she said, toying with the hair around his ear. “I will try very hard to be obedient.” She kissed him again, slow and lingering. It was a habit she could very easily get into.

  Abruptly, Adrik ended the kiss and surprised her by getting them both to their feet. “I really want you to stay,” he said, his breath coming quickly, “but I need for you to go back to your tent. We’ll both be better off for it in the long run.”

  “I know,” Karen replied rather breathlessly. She turned to go, then paused and smiled. “Hootalinqua?”

  He grinned. “Hootalinqua.”

  —[CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT]—

  LAKE LABERGE ONCE AGAIN became an obstacle for the boating party. Positioning themselves among one of a dozen or more crafts, Adrik found himself confronted more than once by strangers in search of answers.

  “How much farther to Hootalinqua?”

  “We need fresh meat, do you have any to spare?”

  “Our boat’s breakin’ apart, do you have any extra nails? Any rope?”

  The list went on and on, but once in a while a scow would draw up close simply to exchange pleasantries. People were starved for conversation and news of the outside. But Adrik had little to offer on either account.

  Concern for his own party was growing, making him less than pleasant company for his companions. Crispin had been unusually quiet, almost sullen, since the night before. Miranda and Grace were huddled in conversation, and if the expressions on their faces suggested anything, it was a sign of additional trouble. Karen concerned herself with improving Leah’s health, but from time to time Adrik could see the longing in her eyes for time alone with him.

  The frustration of not being allowed enough privacy to have a decent wedding night was enough to cause Adrik to consider a cold swim. Especially after last night. Oh, but the woman could make his blood run hot. He knew a good deal of his agitation was steeped in his desire to spend a good long time alone with his new wife. Still, he’d brought this on himself. He should have insisted they wait to marry until they’d reached Dawson City.

  Have I been a fool, Lord? Adrik began to pray. Tempers are running high, and patience is nearly gone. Adrik missed his regular times of devotion and quiet moments of prayer. Perhaps that was what was eating
at him. Since they’d left Lake Lindeman he’d had little time for either prayer or Scripture. He felt as if he were starving to death. Maybe he should join the women for morning devotions.

  Of course Crispin wouldn’t be interested, but it surely wouldn’t hurt for him to listen in. Adrik thought of his friend. Crispin believed in his own power. To Crispin, the only one worth serving was himself. “Why bother with anything or anyone else?” was Crispin’s declaration.

  Lost in thought, Adrik wasn’t even mildly concerned when the wind picked up. But soon the choppiness of the water drew his attention. Steering the boat became increasingly more difficult, and before he could make a reasonable decision, a light rain began to fall.

  “Looks like we’re in for it!” Crispin called, pointing behind Adrik.

  Adrik turned to look to the southwest. Heavy gray-black clouds were fairly boiling on the horizon. Overhead, the brooding rain clouds were unleashing an increasing flow from their reservoirs. “We’ll need to head to shore!” Adrik yelled above the winds. “Get that sail down.”

  But there was little time. As was often the case in the north, the storm came tearing across the sky in a matter of minutes. Roaring out across the area, it seemed to devour everything in its path.

  Karen came from inside the tent and looked to Adrik. She could barely stand steady. “What’s happening?”

  “Storm,” he said, knowing that no other explanation was necessary. “Better make sure everything’s tied down tight. Get Miranda to help you, and send Grace into the tent with Leah. Jacob!” The boy turned from where he’d been working with Crispin to bring down the sail.

  “We’ll put her downwind and try to make our way to shore. Grab the oars! I doubt we’ll have much luck in rowing, but maybe we can keep her from going broadside to the wind.”

  Jacob and Crispin finished securing the sail and went immediately to where the long-handled oars waited in reserve. As the wind rocked the craft, Adrik began to fear that reaching the distant shore would be more of a trial for the group than he’d originally figured. He’d have to work hard if they were going to bring the boat to land in one piece.

  “Jacob, you come take the sweep. Guide her toward the shore as best you can,” Adrik ordered. “I’ll row.” He knew his strength was greater than the boy’s.

  Miranda and Karen worked diligently to check the supplies. They covered the flour and sugar sacks with a canvas tarp and fought against the wind to tie it down. The storm was shaking loose everything that wasn’t actually nailed to the deck, and Adrik began to worry that they’d lose their goods. Handing over the sweep handle to Jacob, Adrik went to help the women only long enough to settle the canvas in place before taking his place with the oars.

  “Karen,” he called over his shoulder, “keep close to Jacob, and give him any help he needs.”

  The skies blackened overhead, stealing the light. The storm was unlike any Adrik had ever seen. “God help us,” he prayed. For surely only God could deliver them from the moment.

  The boat pitched wildly, nearly sending Adrik off his feet. Water rushed over the sides and drenched his boots. He’d been a fool for his daydreaming. He knew how dangerous the Yukon could be. Why had he allowed himself to be caught unaware?

  Another wave came crashing, and with it the wind seemed to change direction. The scow rode the crest and slammed hard against the lake’s surface. A woman’s scream pierced the air, and Adrik felt his blood run cold. Fighting for all he was worth to keep them from capsizing in the storm, he had precious little time for additional problems.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Karen lying in a heap on the deck. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least she was safe. He would worry about whether she was hurt after they reached dry land.

  Rain pelted hard against his face as the storm intensified. The wind howled at them in protest, and the lake did its best to expel the boat from her unsettled body. Adrik’s arms burned from the intensity of fighting the water and the wind. They were making precious little progress, but at least there was some.

  He looked to Crispin, who fought the same battle from the port side. Adrik couldn’t help but wonder what Crispin did for comfort in times like these. Adrik prayed and prayed hard. But Crispin had his own notions, and Adrik couldn’t imagine how they could ever sustain a man through trying times.

  Another scream rent the air, and this time Adrik knew instinctively that something horrible had happened. He turned, pulling the oar from the water lest it be ripped from his grasp.

  “What’s wrong?” The sound of his voice was swallowed up in the storm.

  Karen and Jacob were pointing wildly at the stern. Karen shook her head and began to make her way to Adrik. At the same time, Crispin seemed to come out of his stupor and with great strides leaped over several of the crates to make his way to the back of the boat.

  Karen fell against Adrik, her red hair plastered to her face, her lips blue from the cold. “Miranda!” she cried against the wind. “Miranda has fallen overboard!”

  Adrik felt a sickening sensation settle in the pit of his stomach. There was no hope of finding the woman in this raging gale. But already Crispin had tied a rope around his waist, and before Adrik could stop him, he dove into the water.

  “Stay here!” Adrik commanded Karen. He thrust the handle against her. “You’ll have to help me! Just help Jacob keep her headed to shore.”

  Karen nodded, but Adrik could see the fear in her eyes. He positioned her where he’d stood, then lashed a rope around her waist. Fighting the pitching waves, he tied the other end to one of the tent rings secured in the deck.

  “Don’t let her go broadside to the wind, or we’ll all be in the water!” he told her.

  Then crossing the deck, he picked up the lifeline that connected Crispin to the scow. Pulling, Adrik fought to bring Crispin back to safety. He could barely see beyond the rope to the water. There was no sign of Crispin, but the weight at the end of the rope told Adrik the man was still fastened.

  With superhuman strength, Adrik pulled on the line, all the while fighting to maintain his balance. Gradually the line yielded, and in a matter of moments, Adrik was pulling Crispin’s icy frame back onto the deck.

  “I couldn’t find her!” Crispin called out.

  Adrik shook his head. “We won’t find her in this. We have to get to shore. It’s our only hope to save the rest.”

  Reluctantly, Crispin nodded. He struggled to his feet with Adrik’s help, then shielded his eyes from the rain trying to see where Miranda had gone.

  “Come on,” Adrik commanded. “We’re nearly there.”

  The men finished maneuvering the scow to shore just as the worst of the storm came upon them. They secured the boat as best they could, then began unloading the supplies just in case the lines didn’t hold. They could build another boat if necessary, Adrik reasoned. It would be difficult, but not impossible. But food, weapons, clothing . . . those things were much harder to come by.

  The wind fairly howled around them as a deluge of icy rain tormented everything in its path. Everyone worked. Even Leah and Grace. The entire party seemed to understand Adrik’s insistence at completing the task at hand. There would be time for warming up and drying off after the storm had passed. For now, the best they could hope for was to secure the supplies, then seek shelter with their things.

  Grace sat huddled under the canvas tarp in a state of complete shock. She’d become so numb from the cold she could barely feel her feet or hands. The baby moved within her. The movement comforted her.

  As the worst of the storm passed, leaving only a light rain falling, the men left the women and went in search of firewood. Adrik promised a large bonfire, big enough to warm them all to the bone. Grace doubted she would ever feel warm again. The worst of it was the cold that washed over her in the knowledge that Miranda was gone.

  Grace hadn’t even realized it until just moments after they’d pulled the tarp around them to hide from the storm. “Where’s Miranda?” she h
ad asked, only to receive the painfilled expression of her companions.

  “She just can’t be gone,” Grace murmured.

  Karen patted her hand, and even Leah reached out to touch Grace reassuringly. “Maybe someone in one of the other boats will find her. We weren’t the only ones caught unaware,” Karen stated evenly.

  “That’s right, Grace,” Leah added, “Miranda told me she was a strong swimmer. Maybe she even made it to shore.”

  “The storm was too bad,” Grace replied. She looked to her longtime friend. “No one could swim in that weather. And the cold . . . oh, Karen . . . the temperature of the water was surely enough to . . .” She couldn’t say the words.

  “Adrik said they’d go down the shore tomorrow and look for any signs of Miranda. There are Indian villages in the area, and she could very easily have been swept ashore.”

  Grace buried her face in her hands. “Oh, what am I going to tell Mother Colton?”

  The thought of having to break such news to her in-laws left Grace overwhelmed to the point of complete despair. Oh, God, she prayed, please let me wake up and find this nothing more than a horrible dream. Please let Miranda come back to us now, safe and unharmed.

  “Let’s wait until we know for sure that there’s something we need to tell her,” Karen suggested.

  Grace looked up, tears blurring her vision. “It should have been me. It would have solved everything.”

  “No!” Karen declared, reaching out to shake Grace’s shoulders. “You must not talk that way. You’re just feeling the effects of the shock and the cold. You must be strong, Grace. You must be strong for your baby.”

  Grace felt the fluttering movement again. It seemed the child wanted to show his or her agreement with Karen’s statement. She wanted to take hope in the child—wanted to have a reason to live in the midst of this awful, suffocating despair. But she felt so weak. So inadequate to deal with something so monumental. Martin Paxton’s threats were nothing compared to the loss of her sister-in-law.