Waiting near the bottom step, half-hidden by the railing, she tried not to notice the man carrying Geoff down the stairwell like a vaudeville ventriloquist’s dummy. When Geoff was settled in the chair, he took control of the large wooden wheels, and she followed behind, grinning when she caught the scent of orange zest.
The guest, Mr. Todd, waited in an embroidered armchair, drumming his fingernails on a marble-topped table. He jumped to his feet when Geoff approached.
Josephine concentrated on the path in front of the wheelchair, trying not to stare at the handsome blond visitor. He wasn’t too tall, just shy of six feet, but his forget-me-not blue eyes were the prettiest she had ever seen on a man. Geoff’s blue eyes were darker, more of a bluish-gray, and they didn’t sparkle with life like the gems in this man’s eyes.
“You are the picture of health today,” Brice said, extending his hand to Geoff. “And who is this young lad at your disposal?”
“My new caregiver. Josephine Nimetz.” Geoff accentuated her first name.
“Excuse me, young lady. I couldn’t see your dress behind the chair. With the short hair, I just assumed.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Brice. She understands.”
“I was expecting your brother to accompany you.” Brice scanned the hallway.
“Bradley’s in San Francisco visiting family or something.” Geoff swung his hand out as if swatting a fly.
“Nimetz.” Brice rubbed his smooth, cleft chin. “You have an older sister.”
“Yes, sir.” Josephine gripped the handles on Geoff’s chair. She didn’t expect to be drawn into the conversation.
“I believe she was a year ahead of Geoff and me. Ann, is it?”
“Yes, sir.” She casually wiped her hands on a part of her dress hidden from view. Had Brice read the newspaper article about Ivan’s death? Thankfully, no mention came of her family’s misfortune.
“And you live in town?”
“Yes, sir.”
Brice finally turned his attention back to Geoff.
“I’m jealous of the stimulating conversation you’ll be having at the lodge.”
The men laughed.
She ignored Brice’s humor. If he wanted conversation, he shouldn’t have asked her yes or no questions.
“Excuse me.” Josephine walked off to admire an oil painting of a heavily side-burned gentleman and to eavesdrop without being noticed.
“My father told you then? About the Gilbertsen lodge?” Geoff said.
“He mentioned it. The change of scenery and fresh air should help with your recovery.”
“Or put me in an early grave?”
“Oh, come on,” Brice said. “You can’t believe everything the doctor says. I’ve known you for years, and I can’t recall anything you can’t do except maybe sweet talk a certain Christine to go out with you.”
Geoff gave a shared-secret chuckle. “That was a long time ago.”
Was Christine Geoff’s former lover? Talk of a girl made her turn from the oil painting and inspect a fern with fronds she could hide behind and still glimpse the men.
“I saw her the other day,” Brice added, “with her husband. Funny, I thought Christine would marry someone tall, like you.” Brice’s eyes widened when he realized what he had said.
The room fell silent.
Geoff carved his armrest with his thumbnail.
“You’ll have to come visit us at the lodge.”
“Don’t know if I’ll make it this year. I’m taking some time away from my studies to travel.” Brice crossed his legs and grasped his shoe as if it would fling across the room if he let go. “My folks don’t want me living back east until this influenza blows over.”
“You’re not leaving a woman out east, are you?” Geoff gave up on his wood carving and settled his hands in his lap.
“One, but she’s very studious. Probably won’t even miss me.”
“When you’re done traveling, you can tell me all about it.” Geoff shifted restlessly in his chair.
“The trip or the woman?”
“Both.” Geoff leaned closer to Brice. “It’s not like I’ll have much to tell.”
Josephine could have sworn Geoff indicated her somehow. It wasn’t exactly fair that Brice got to travel to the lower forty-eight while she was going to be stuck at the lodge with Geoff. But then, Brice had money and she didn’t. Not yet, anyway.
Brice didn’t stay long. He was mindful of the packing that had to be done and the steamboat trip the next day.
Geoff kept to himself the rest of the night.
She ate a cold, late dinner in her room before checking in on Geoff.
“Would you like a bath?” Her voice hit a soprano’s note as if she was coaxing a mud-caked boy into the tub. She had sponge-bathed Mr. Gilbertsen, but Geoff’s body needed a good soak.
“No. Maybe tomorrow.” He lay in bed, his back toward her.
“I have your morphine.”
“About time.” He tugged off the sheet, exposing his underwear and upper thighs as if it was no big deal.
It was a big deal to her. She had never seen a young man in his underwear before.
She swabbed Geoff’s upper-thigh with alcohol careful not to linger too long on his leg. The pungent vapors stung her eyes and nostrils. Pulling Geoff’s skin taut, she breathed deeply and blew on his skin, praying he wouldn’t shout or jerk while she emptied the syringe.
“One…Two…”
Biting on her lip, she plunged the needle into his muscle.
Geoff flinched.
“Oops.”
“What the heck did you say that for?” His head careened backward trying to see the injection site.
She swallowed hard. A piece of lip flesh slithered down her throat. “It bent.” She removed the needle and held a piece of gauze over the tiny puncture wound.
“Next time don’t say anything. Payback’s when I remove your stitches.”
“You won’t,” she stammered, capping the L-shaped needle on her third try. “The doctor will remove them.”
“Doc Miller’s not taking a steamer out to the lodge to pluck a few stitches. Yours won’t be the first ones I’ve taken out. Might be the last.”
“Don’t tease about that.”
“Who said I was kidding.” His eyelids drooped. “Get some sleep. We haven’t left Juneau, and you’ve already made your first mistake. Better not make many more.” His words faded into the pillow.
She applied pressure to the mushroom of blood seeping from his ripped skin.
“Geoff,” she whispered. “How many mistakes is too many?”
Only one of his eyes opened. “I’ll let you know.”
6
The Lumberjack’s Maiden docked on the Gastineau Channel awaiting its cargo and passengers. Several men loaded crates and lumber onto the steamer. Josephine wheeled Geoff to the gang plank. Mr. Chambers had come to see them off. She searched the docks for signs of Ann or her mother, but it was early, and there weren’t many people about town. Did her family even know the date and time of her departure?
A portly man shouted instructions to the crew coming aboard ship. Soon, she would be the one in charge of Geoff’s household, but there wouldn’t be anyone taking orders, except her.
The captain, with his leather-trimmed black cap, had a booming voice that echoed across several docks. He reminded her of Santa Claus with his wavy white hair, cropped frosted beard, and ripe berry cheeks. The sweet, fruity aroma from his pipe seasoned the morning air.
When there weren’t any more men to instruct, the captain turned toward Geoff.
“Who do we have here, Master Chambers?” The captain’s teeth held his pipe in check while his face lit up with a welcome-aboard smile.
“Josephine Nimetz.” She extended her hand and ignored Geoff’s loud exhale.
“A young lady who speaks up. Glad to have you.” The captain gave a firm shake. “I’m Captain Barrie, but you Miss, may call me Tubby.”
“Call her Jo.”
Geoff turned his chair so the large rear wheels were closest to the ship.
“That’s not my name.”
“It is now. Josephine’s too long to say more than once a day.”
Two crewmen dragged the wheelchair up a wide plank and settled the chair onto the Maiden’s deck. Geoff’s body jostled arm rest to arm rest. She followed a short distance behind, making small talk with Mr. Chambers.
“Send word if you need anything.” Mr. Chambers blotted his face with a handkerchief.
“I certainly will,” she said, boarding the ship with a steadying hand from the captain. “But for now, we’re packed up with more supplies than the general store.”
She waved good-bye with closed-fingers and a slight bend to her palm, even, elegant. Inside she was screaming ‘girl overboard.’ Sitting in the rear of the Maiden, she watched the mountains sail by and surveyed their blanket of prickly pines for moose and bear. Geoff kept Tubby company while the captain steered the ship.
The Lumberjack’s Maiden sailed down Gastineau Channel, rounded the tip of Douglas Island, and continued along Stephen’s Passage before turning into an inlet. A long wooden dock split Mother Nature’s half-circle right down the middle. Tubby docked the ship as if this was his home port.
The lodge was not the isolated pine box she pictured it to be. Her home in Juneau could have been its outhouse. The land leading up to the lodge was clear cut, but old-growth Spruce, Hemlock, and Sitka, stood guard at the edge of the forest. Taking care of Geoff in this log palace may not be so bad after all.
Men readied planks of wood and wheeled Geoff off the ship. A crewman helped propel the chair to the front porch. She followed, hopscotching from rock to rock, trying not to muddy the hem of her dress.
“How the heck am I going to get up those narrow steps? I paid good money for this lodge, and I can’t even get to the door.”
Her heart sped as if she had jumped every rock in the inlet. “I’ll ask Tubby to have the men make a ramp.”
First problem solved.
She patted Geoff’s shoulder. He shrugged her away. Immediately, she eyed the front door to see if the wheelchair would fit. The door looked wide enough for a large rack of caribou antlers. Thank goodness the chair could roll inside.
Leaving Geoff on the porch to supervise the men unloading supplies, she entered her new home. The lodge was bigger and better than she had imagined. In the living room, a tooth-flashing head of a black bear silently roared above the stone fireplace, claiming ownership of its cozy territory. She figured the mount was one of Mr. Gilbertsen’s trophies.
Two brown leather couches formed a sitting area around the hearth. She sank down into the cushions for a moment and noticed that with two couches, chairs, and a long wooden table, Geoff’s wheelchair would not be able to fit between the furniture. If she moved the pieces farther apart, one couch would border the dining table, forming another wheelchair barrier.
She rose from her seat and inspected the bedroom that was to the left of the entry. The wide French doors brought her a sense of relief. Normally, she would admire the door’s stained glass instead of surveying their width, but with Geoff in tow, she wanted to avoid another argument. An audible clack of her tongue accompanied a sigh when she spied the narrow doorway to the bathroom.
The whirr of his wheels on the wood floor sent a chilled shudder down her spine.
“This one’s mine,” Geoff said, wheeling into the bedroom. “Yours is up that steep staircase. Better hold the railing on your way down. We don’t want any more accidents.” He stressed his last word.
A pang of guilt weighed on her soul. Dang needle.
Tubby entered the bedroom.
“Is the ramp done?” she asked, hoping to check off a completed task from her caregiver list.
“Not yet.” The edge to Geoff’s voice was sharp enough to split wood.
She pictured Geoff cradled in the captain’s arms and decided not to ask any more questions about how he got into the lodge.
“Twin beds?” Geoff gasped. “I haven’t slept in a twin bed since I was a boy. What’s next?” He gripped the arms of his wheelchair. “How am I supposed to use the toilet? Crawl?” He wheeled his chair over to the bathroom and pounded the molding with his fist. Veins raised on his neck and forearms.
“We’ll push the beds together and I’ll bring in a chamber pot. It will work.” She tried to drown his simmering frustration. “I’m sure we can get the door widened.”
“Not a problem,” Tubby assured her. He carried the nightstand to the corner of the room and pushed the beds together. “That’s one problem solved.”
Actually, it was the second.
With Tubby’s help, she moved one of the living room couches into Geoff’s room. It would be a convenient place for her to sleep if Geoff needed care during the night.
A crew member entered the bedroom and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Where do you want the hens, Miss?”
“Hens?” she repeated, hoping he’d clue her in and fast.
“For eggs.” He rubbed his chin, cracking a cuspid-less grin.
“Is there a chicken coop out back?”
“No, Miss.”
“They’re not coming in my house.” Geoff rubbed his palms together as if he was readying for a gun fight.
“Can you build a coop near the back door?” she asked. “If I let hens roam, the black bears will get fatter, and we’ll get thinner.”
The crew member chuckled. “I’ll see what we can do.”
She followed the coop expert through the kitchen and out the back door of the lodge. A small set of stairs led into the yard. A third problem.
“We’ll need a ramp here, too,” she yelled to the men splitting logs.
Josephine spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking crates, stocking the kitchen shelves and pantry, and piling dishes into cupboards she could reach without a chair. Geoff stayed out of her bobbed hair and ranted at the crew.
With hungry men scurrying about, she wasted no time stoking the wood and coal burning stove. She put biscuits in the oven to bake and made gravy on the stovetop. She didn’t have time to be fancy, especially since she couldn’t remember where she placed all the ingredients.
At mealtime, everyone sat comfortably around the large dining room table. Everyone except Geoff.
“Where’s Mr. Chambers?” she asked Tubby.
Tubby shook out his napkin. “He went to his room. Said he wasn’t hungry.”
“That’s a first. Men are always hungry.”
Tubby laughed. “Can’t argue with you there.”
Geoff could.
After the blessing of the food, she dished up a plate and carried it to Geoff’s room.
“You can’t pass up my biscuits.” She placed Geoff’s dinner on the nightstand next to his wheelchair.
“I can if the gravy will wind up all over my pants.” He adjusted his position and picked up his dinner. “My wheels won’t fit under the table. Guess most hunters have two working legs.”
“I’ll see if Tubby can shave the tabletop down. Make an arch for the chair.” There were so many adjustments that had to be made for Geoff. She hoped she and Tubby had conquered most of them. When the captain left, she would be alone to handle what came next. Whatever that may be.
After supper, she strolled with Tubby to the dock, leaving Geoff in front of the fireplace. She handed Tubby a small basket of biscuits and thanked him for his help.
“We’ll return soon to check in on things,” Tubby said. “Got to get you supplied up for winter. Then, young lady, you can let me know if anything needs straightening out.” He glanced up toward the lodge and gave her another knowing wink before boarding his ship.
Standing on the dock, she watched the Lumberjack’s Maiden sail away into the setting sun. She waited, breathing in the fresh sea air. Stalling. Guilt tickled her conscience, but she couldn’t handle another confrontation with Geoff. Her quota was full for the night. Meandering toward the front por
ch, she hit the steps—one, two, three, four.
After hanging up her coat, she took a deep breath and said the dreaded words. Words she had been lamenting all day.
“You need a bath.” She braced for his response.
“Finish the dishes and boil some water. I don’t think the tub has hot running water, and you’re definitely not putting me in a deep freeze.”
Victory. Or maybe not. How was the bath going to work?
She washed the dishes and envisioned different scenarios for bath time. Creaking pipes let her know that he had started his bath water. Shortly, she carried two kettles of boiling water into his bedroom.
The wheelchair stood empty next to the bed. Through the bathroom doorway, she saw Geoff propped against the side of the tub, bare-chested, wearing only his underwear.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
His head flopped backward and rested on the tub. “It’s going to be kind of hard for you to assist me from way out there.”
She laughed. She actually laughed. He laughed, too.
Emptying the hot water into the tub, she asked, “How did you get in here?”
“I used my arms. Thank heaven the blast didn’t blow off all my limbs.” He motioned toward some cupboards. “We’re going to need lots of towels.”
Nodding, she asked, “How are we going to do this?”
“You’re going to do as little as possible. I’ll get a hold on the outside of this tub and stand myself up. You will lift my legs over the metal edge and back out again. I don’t need you in between.”
Thank heaven. Josephine ran her fingers through her locks, curling some behind her ears.
“Can you wash your hair?”
He scowled at her. “Of course I can.”
“You’ll need to soak those bed sores.”
“Yes, doctor.”
Geoff grasped the sides of the tub and lifted his body straight off the floor. “Up and over,” he huffed, arm muscles bulging.
With her back to Geoff’s chest, Josephine wrapped her arms around his legs and hoisted them into the tub. A shallow minefield of divots covered the skin beneath his left stump. Her ring finger sank into his flesh.
Until June Page 4