When he was done, she’d said, “So now you feel you have to find out who your real father was. Well, I can understand that. But do you have to go to Alaska for that? You could trace his family on the Net, maybe find relatives in Canada. Why Alaska?”
He’d asked himself the same question, but the answer had escaped him. It still did. “He died up there, I’d like to find out why, if I can.” That answer had seemed unsatisfactory when he said it to Rebecca at the time, but it was all he could articulate—even now. And he rejected her suggestion that he was running away…from what happened to Annie.
She, more than anyone, must know that Annie was a part of him, that she went wherever he was. That her memory would be with him no matter where he ended up.
And when Rebecca told him about her friend—a man who’d lost his son—Alex had felt only relief. He sincerely wanted her to be happy.
He told her so, and she took his hand and linked her fingers through his, the way she’d always done.
The way he’d done the other night with Ivy.
“Find someone to love, Alex. Start over.” She’d smiled at him. “Annie would want us both to be happy.”
The memory infuriated him, just as her words had that afternoon, and he drove the spade into the earth with savage force.
Rebecca might, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, ever go to that illusory place he’d inhabited with Rebecca again. Where he’d trusted that the people he loved lived happily ever after and healthy little girls didn’t die.
Start over, find someone to love? If that kind of simplistic pop psychology worked for Rebecca, great. But there was no way in hell he’d ever take that big a chance again. Because he knew he’d never survive if he lost his heart a second time.
Which was why it would make good sense to keep his distance from Ivy Pierce.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There’s a couple other guys on this boat, heading north like I am because it’s something they’ve always dreamed of doing. They’re climbers heading for a mountain called The Devil’s Thumb. Climbing’s always seemed way too dangerous to me. I don’t even like elevators much.
From letters written by Roy Nolan,
April, 1972
INSTEAD OF KEEPING his distance from Ivy, Alex ended up sitting far too close to her—at 6:30 the following morning, in the damned helicopter.
As the rotors whirled, Ivy did something complicated with knobs and sticks and the copter rose as fast as Alex’s stomach dropped. In sickening seconds they were high above the lodge, tipping to the right, straightening, and then heading at what felt like ten miles an hour toward Valdez and the dentist. Except Alex knew they were doing over a hundred—he could see the gauge.
He fought to keep from heaving up the banana bread that had caused this calamity. He’d been eating a thick slice with his morning coffee an hour before when he crunched into a walnut shell and felt the filling drop out of his right upper molar. The immediate jolt from the hot coffee convinced him if a dentist was available, he was a candidate.
He made the mistake of saying so. Ivy just happened to be heading for Valdez in the copter. How could he refuse to go with her without revealing he was a sniveling coward?
He swallowed the bile rising in his throat, and Ivy gestured at the headset. He slipped it on.
“Couldn’t wait until your birthday for a ride, huh, Professor?” she said cheerfully. “Too bad about your tooth, but Doc Banyen’s the best, he’ll fix it for you in no time. So just relax and enjoy the ride. And try to keep your tongue out of the cavity.” She pointed out at the Sound. “Good view of Columbia Glacier from up here, it’s great that the sun’s out and the weather’s fine. It’s not so much fun on a rainy day.”
Fun was the last word he’d have used. A fast, horrifying glimpse confirmed that the panoramic view probably was spectacular. Alex was too terrified to appreciate it. The earth was far below and dropping, and all that kept him from hurtling down to meet it was the fragile Plexiglas floor beneath his quaking boots.
He concentrated instead on Ivy’s long leg, inches from his own, her long fingers on the steering mechanism. He noted her easy, practiced grace as she maneuvered the copter, the relaxed smile on her lips as she pointed out things he should look at.
This was her world. It showed in the lilt in her husky tone, the wide grin she shot him when a sudden change in altitude made him cry out and grab for a handhold.
It was her world, and there was no way it would ever be his. He needed to remember this the next time he lusted after her.
He felt a surge of relief as the landing pad near Valdez came into view and prayed fervently as they descended. The machine hovered before settling with hardly a bump.
Alex realized he’d been holding his breath. It took a moment for him to unclench his grip on the safety bar.
When the noise died and the rotors slowed, Ivy said, “So, Professor, you ready for flying lessons?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
“It grows on you.” She laughed, unbuckling her safety belt, gesturing at the door. “I’ll drive you into town and introduce you to Harold. My guests aren’t due for another forty minutes. But first come meet Bert and Kisha. He’s our resident mechanic, she answers the phone and the radio and keeps the accounts in order for us. Dad and I are hopeless when it comes to bookkeeping. Bert’s also a student pilot— Dad’s teaching him to fly the Beaver.”
She led the way into the mobile unit. A stocky young man with a brush cut was sitting in front of a desk while a round little woman tapped away at the keys of a computer terminal. The man got to his feet and nodded at Ivy.
“Kisha Harris, this is Alex Ladrovik,” she said.
“How do you do, Kisha?” Alex liked the way her eyes crinkled and her cheeks bunched when she smiled.
“Bert Ambrose, this is my friend Alex Ladrovik,” Ivy said next, spelling out Alex’s name on her fingers, alerting Alex to the fact that Bert was deaf.
Bert stuck his hand out to Alex. “Good to meet you,” he said, slurring the words into one.
“I know some sign, little bit.” Alex matched the spoken words with the ASL equivalent, and Bert’s eyebrows shot up. Alex measured out a scant inch between thumb and forefinger. “About that much.”
Bert’s fingers flew. “How did you learn?”
Alex’s fingers felt stiff and clumsy. “My girlfriend in high school had deaf parents. She taught me.” He hadn’t used sign in a long while, but he found it was coming back to him.
“My girlfriend is hearing,” Bert signed, gesturing toward Kisha, who blushed and rolled her eyes. “She teaches me voice words.”
“The things a guy will do for a pretty woman,” Alex signed, and Bert laughed and agreed.
Ivy had only heard Alex’s side of the conversation, and she made a questioning gesture. “You guys are going way too fast for me to follow. What’s funny?”
Alex explained.
Ivy snorted. Kisha said, “Men,” and went back to the computer.
Bert’s fingers were flying again. “Good to meet someone who knows sign. Maybe we have a beer some evening?”
Alex hesitated. “I’d like that, but I’m working out at Raven Lodge, so I’d have to hitch a ride in with Ivy or borrow a boat.”
“No problem, I could come with boat and get you. Soon I have license, then I bring floatplane, pick you up.”
“Thanks.” Alex hoped the apprehension he felt didn’t show on his face. The only thing more nerve-wracking than being taxied around in a helicopter would be flying in a floatplane with a beginner pilot. He hesitated and then signed, “Planes scare the shit out of me, but I haven’t told Ivy yet. I’m trying to be macho.”
Bert laughed for a long time. “My dad has boat, I’ll come pick you up with that.”
“Thank you.”
Ivy had been watching their exchange with a bemused expression. “Sorry to break this up, guys, but I’d better get Alex to the dentist so I can keep my date with the tourists.”
“Broke my tooth this morning,” Alex explained to Bert.
“Hate dentists,” Bert signed vehemently.
“Me, too. Almost as much as flying.”
They left Bert guffawing over that one. When they were outside, Ivy gave him an assessing glance. “So, an anthropologist who worked as a forensic scientist and retired to become a carpenter also knows sign language. You’re a regular Renaissance man, Ladrovik.”
“Right now I’m a desperate man.” The cool air was sending bolts of pain through the nerves in his broken tooth. “Damn it, I don’t do pain at all well.” He clamped a hand over his mouth.
She was grinning at him. “Most guys don’t. Which is why God chose women for childbirth.” She opened the passenger door on a fire-engine-red truck and he climbed in.
To say Ivy was a fast driver was like comparing Columbia Glacier to an ice cube. Alex didn’t allow himself to clutch at the armrest as they tore around corners and roared down blessedly quiet streets—it was a truck, after all, not a helicopter—but he was tempted. By the time she pulled into a parking spot in front of a medical building on Meals Avenue, his teeth were clenched as if he had lockjaw, which wasn’t helping the aching tooth at all.
Ivy didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll come in and introduce you.”
The office was definitely casual. There were kids’ drawings up on the bulletin board and a receptionist’s desk, but no one was there. Ivy sailed past it, sticking her head into a treatment room.
Alex, who was waiting in the reception area, heard her say, “Hey, Harry, how you doing, buddy? I’ve got a customer for you.”
“And here I thought you were here because you’d changed your mind about marrying me,” a bass voice replied. “I’ll be right out, Ivy.”
The handsome man who appeared a moment later could easily have qualified for professional football. Alex estimated him at six-five, two-eighty, and all of it muscle. His shoulders barely made it through the door. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and jeans, and his wide smile was either an advertisement for his job or the best set of porcelain veneers Alex had ever seen.
Ivy introduced them, and Alex felt irritated by the familiar way Harry slung an arm around Ivy’s shoulders. Did he have to flaunt his attraction?
Alex explained what had happened to his tooth, adding, “I don’t have an appointment, do you think you can fit me in?”
“Any friend of Ivy’s gets special treatment around here. Sit down, I’ll finish up with Billy and then I’ll take a look.”
“Gotta go,” Ivy said. “Thanks, Harry.” She turned to Alex. “I won’t be heading back to the lodge till late afternoon. If you need to get back before that you can probably hitch a boat ride with someone. There’s always a fisherman or guide heading up the Sound.”
“I’ll probably do that.” He’d swim if it meant avoiding another ride in that helicopter. “Thanks, Ivy.”
Harry disappeared back into the treatment room, and Alex sat down. Maybe he’d take advantage of being in Valdez. Today was a good time to visit the police office. He had the official letter they’d sent his mother two years after Roy Nolan went missing, telling her they’d recovered his knapsack and assumed he was dead, although his body had never been found. For some reason they’d kept the knapsack, maybe because Linda had never requested it. He’d go claim it if it was still around, Alex decided, thumbing through a copy of National Geographic.
It wasn’t long before Billy, who looked seventeen and still seemed to be in acute pain, staggered out, grabbed his jacket and made a break for freedom.
Harry ushered Alex into the cubicle.
“Let’s have a look here. Yup, I see the problem all right, got a real crevasse there. I’ll get that filled for you in no time.” He began laying out a tray. “You’re staying at the lodge, Ivy said. Skiing?”
“No.” Now his tooth was sending pain right down his neck, and he didn’t feel much like talking.
Harry obviously did. “So how’s Theo doing? Terrible about his heart.”
Alex wished to God the dentist would just get on with it. “He’s recovering, but it’s taking time. No word yet on how long he’ll be in hospital.”
“He’s a great guy, Theo. Is Logan still around? I heard he flew in when Theo had the heart attack.”
It took Alex a moment to figure out Harry was referring to Ben’s twin brother. “He’s gone back to Seattle. I didn’t meet him—he stayed in Anchorage until Theo was out of danger.”
“Didn’t come home at all, huh? Figures. Word on the street is him and Ben don’t get along too well. Brothers, what can I say? I never got along with mine, either. Still don’t. He’s homophobic as hell.”
Alex digested the implications of that bit of surprising information.
“Is that a problem up here? Valdez does seem a little more redneck than say, San Francisco.”
Harry laughed as he picked up the syringe.
“That’s where we lived before my partner got a job here at the refinery. He’s an engineer. A guy will do the damnedest things for love. I miss San Fran like crazy. Okay, let’s get this molar repaired. You want to take your glasses off? Good, thanks. Now lie back and relax, you won’t feel a thing.”
Harry was an optimist, but he was also good with a needle. The freezing went in painlessly, and while the huge man rooted around his mouth, Alex thought about his own brother.
Dmitri was six years younger and, when he was small, he’d driven Alex nuts by tagging along with him everywhere. But as Dmitri grew, it soon became clear that he was the son Steve Ladrovik wanted Alex to be.
Dmitri was outgoing, a natural athlete who shared his father’s love for team sports. Alex was a loner. His preferred activity was long-distance running, and he had no interest in competing in or even watching sports.
Too bad he hadn’t known when he was growing up that he wasn’t related by blood to his father. The truth might’ve made it easier to get along with Steve. He might’ve been a better brother to Dmitri.
“There we go, good as new. You have another couple fillings that need replacing. If you want me to do them, just say the word, I’ll book you in.”
Alex’s lip was frozen and he tried not to lisp. “Thanks, but I won’t be around long enough.”
“Just passing through, huh? Well, enjoy your stay. Get those teeth looked at when you get home.” Harry clapped him on the back and took his charge card. After Alex signed the slip, he hurried out.
He made a stop at the drugstore and asked the clerk for directions. She told him that the police station was inside city hall on Chenega Avenue, right in the heart of downtown Valdez. With his mouth now solidly frozen, Alex made his way to the reception desk. A young woman in a low-cut green blouse raised her eyebrows at him.
“I’d like to talk to someone about an old file concerning a missing person,” Alex said, trying to speak clearly. He hoped he wasn’t drooling.
“That would be Officer Wahlbergh. Sit down and I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Moments later, a balding, portly policeman with worry lines etched into his forehead led Alex into a small office.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Ladrovik?”
It was hard to know where to begin. The freezing in his mouth made him opt for the short version.
“My father disappeared north of Valdez, in the spring of 1972. His name was Roy Nolan. He walked into the bush and was never heard from again. His body was never found. I’d like to see any files you might have on him. His knapsack was located that fall, and I’d like to claim it if it’s still around.”
He showed Wahlbergh the copy of his original birth certificate, naming him as Jack Nolan and his father as Roy Nolan.
He also had his adoptive one, giving the name Steve Ladrovik had chosen for him. Until Steve’s death, Alex hadn’t known he’d started out as Jack. Linda had told him Nolan named him for Jack London, his favorite writer. He’d briefly considered exchanging Alex for Jack, but it didn’t feel comfortable. An
d what was the point?
Wahlbergh studied both documents carefully and also asked for a driver’s license, which Alex produced.
“The file should be stored down the hall in dead records,” Wahlbergh said. “Sit tight, I’ll see if I can locate it. And the knapsack might be in the evidence locker, although it’s pretty unlikely it’s still around. Don’t know why they wouldn’t have sent it on to your mother.”
Alex waited for what felt like a very long time. His jaw ached as the freezing began to subside.
“You’re in luck, young man.” Wahlbergh set a dusty cardboard carton on the desk and lifted the lid. “The knapsack’s here all right. And I found the file as well.” He laid a slim manila folder beside the box. “Turns out the investigating officer on that case was a friend of my old man, Johnny Kusak. Good cop, Johnny. Unfortunately, he’s been dead for five years. Might have been nice to talk to him.”
“Could I have a copy of the file?”
“Sure. I’ll get Sandra to run one off.” Wahlbergh went out again, and Alex lifted out what was left of a worn and faded blue canvas knapsack. It was dirty and shredded to ribbons, as if an animal had torn it to pieces, and there wasn’t enough of it left to hold anything. Still, it gave Alex a strange feeling, holding the ragged piece of fabric his father had worn when he walked into the wilderness.
“Here you go. I’ll need you to sign these forms.” Wahlbergh handed over several papers and Alex scribbled his name in the places the policeman indicated. He thanked Wahlbergh and left the building. He wanted to be alone while he read whatever was in the file.
There was a bench outside, and he sat down, exchanging his glasses for the prescription sunglasses in his shirt pocket. Ivy had told him that April in Valdez often brought rain or even snow, but so far they’d been lucky. The sunlight glinting off the harbor was blinding. Alex sat looking out at the harbor for a moment, and then he opened the folder.
The first item was a letter from Alex’s mother, Linda, to the Valdez police. It was dated September 15, 1972, saying that she was worried because Roy Nolan had said he’d be in touch the end of August, and so far he hadn’t contacted her as he’d promised. She’d included a copy of one of the letters she’d given Alex, written by Roy from Valdez in late April of that year. In it, he assured her he’d be in touch the minute he came out of the bush.
Past Lies Page 7