Kisses in the Rain (7 page)

There was more of him that she found interesting, but he finished telling her about smoking salmon before she could concentrate on each individual feature in rapt appreciation. She hadn't, for instance, had time to spend marveling at his broad shoulders or his ears, which weren't from Mount Rushmore at all. They reminded her more of the ears on one of the Seven Dwarfs at Disneyland. The cute one, Dopey.

But there wasn't anything dopey about Nick. He exhibited a keen intelligence that Martha wanted to explore. How to explore it, though?

She wanted to keep his interest as long as possible. Long enough to impress him in some way. Long enough to become his friend. She did miss all her friends, though there had been no one like Nick in Kokomo.

"We sure didn't have anything like him in Kokomo," she whispered, half to herself, missing Lindsay and Sigmund's instant laughter.

"In Kokomo? Is that your home?" His voice was a deep rumble in his chest. It appealed to her, that voice.

"Why don't you sit down?" she suggested suddenly.

He hesitated a moment, and Martha thought,
Maybe he doesn't want to spend time with me,
but then Nick sat, stretched his boots out in front of him and lifted his face into a ray of sun that had managed to penetrate the clouds.

And so then she told him about managing the boutique in Kokomo, and how she had moved to San Francisco on an impulse, and how she had ended up in Alaska on another impulse.

Nick smiled at her. Now that he knew she had worked at one of those trendy little boutiques, he understood the shimmery eye shadow, the well-cut linen dress, and the high heels. She was making a fashion statement. He wondered what she was really like, and he was impressed with her enterprising spirit.

"You know, I haven't done this in a long time," he confessed, scarcely believing that he was actually relaxing in her company. Since Davey had come to live with him, he'd seldom sought the company of women. They found him, and whatever urges he needed fulfilled were usually fulfilled quickly and urgently, after which Nick would again be alone. The competition for women in Alaska was keen. Add to that Nick's high standards, and women—or at least a steady relationship with one—didn't seem worth the trouble.

"What
is
there to do in Ketchikan? For single people, I mean?" A glance at Nick's ring finger had revealed no wedding band. He could still be spoken for, however. She held her breath, waiting to see if he'd give her an indication.

"The usual," he said. "I'm not into the singles scene much."

She wanted to laugh out loud in relief, but she only said, "I haven't been here long, but I wonder if it'll be difficult to meet people. I was hoping it would be easy to find people I like here, but..." She let her voice trail off self-consciously. If he had half a brain, he'd see that she was practically handing him an opening to ask her out.

"An attractive woman like you shouldn't have any trouble," he said lightly, looking up at the mountains across the water.

Momentarily discouraged, Martha plunged on. "I put in long hours at the Bagel Barn," she said. "I guess you must know what it's like to work long hours, too."

He opened one eye at her, then opened the other. "I do. And I guess I'd better get back to my office. Let me know if you want to order any of that salmon. You might like sablefish on your bagels, too. I'll bring you some and let you try it. I could drop it off at the Bagel Barn today after I leave work." He pulled in his feet, stretched and stood up.

She smiled her most engaging smile. "That would be fine. We could go somewhere and have a drink together afterward if you like," she said, as naturally as she could manage.

Her heart plunged to her toes when Nick looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"I can't tonight," he said, his expression clouding. He had to be there for Davey's birthday party. He owed it to Davey. And he owed it to his brothers and their wives and children, all of whom were making a special effort to make the long boat ride from town to the cabin at night so that they could all be together as a family.

Martha knew that she didn't dare let Nick see how disappointed she was. Or how humiliated.

"I understand," she said evenly.

"Maybe some other time."

"Sure," she said. She forced a smile. "Thanks for the salmon."

"I'll drop the sablefish off at the Bagel Barn later," he assured her. She was magnificently controlled, but he saw the hurt in her eyes. He wished he could have taken her up on her invitation, but tonight it was impossible. He couldn't tell her about Davey. To do that might raise more questions than he was prepared to answer. He was well aware that the boy's presence in his life was a mystery that half of Ketchikan longed to solve. Embarrassed, he scuffed at a leaf that had blown against the toe of his boot. Then he wheeled and headed toward Novak and Sons.

Martha couldn't eat the rest of her bagel. She didn't know what had upset her more—making a fool of herself or being turned down.

When Nick showed up at the Bagel Barn later to give her the sample of sablefish, Randy told him that Martha had already left for the day. Nick took off down the dock before Randy could suggest that he leave the fish with him. Nick didn't want to leave the fish with anyone but Martha. He had counted on her being there, and now that she wasn't, he was angry with himself for thinking she would be. After all, he'd turned down her offer to have a drink with him. Nice as she was, she'd probably found someone else who could be more accommodating.

Nick unlashed the
Tabor
from her mooring and headed for home, feeling oddly deflated. He pictured Martha's bright eyes and smiling face in his head, and he wished he was sitting across from her, nursing a drink and asking her to go to dinner with him afterward. Now that might never happen, and it was all his fault. All his fault, and nothing he could do about it, and that made him feel rotten. Even a spectacular sunset that turned the waters of Mooseleg Bay to molten gold failed to raise his spirits.

Chapter 4
 

Whatever there was to do in Ketchikan, she hadn't found it yet. That was Martha's discouraged reflection four days after Nick turned down her invitation.

She wasn't used to not knowing anyone. In Kokomo she'd been a part of the elaborate social rituals that exist among people who know each other. She waved to the traffic cop at the schoolchildren's street crossing every morning on her way to work, and he waved back. She was greeted and bidden farewell by her co-workers at the boutique every day. Martha had never realized before how those automatic little courtesies made her feel connected to people.

Here there was none of that, and she felt adrift without it. That was in addition to her loneliness and lack of anyone to talk to. She missed having someone to ask her if she'd had a hard day; her roommate back in Kokomo had always been available for commiseration or, more often, having fun. So had Lindsay in San Francisco.

But in Ketchikan Martha had met no one except the few customers who returned to the Bagel Barn, and they always arrived at the busiest times. Nick Novak hadn't been back. She hadn't seen him around the dock, even though she surreptitiously kept an eye out for him every day.

So now, four days after the Debacle of the Refused Invitation, as Martha now thought of her disappointment with Nick, Martha was struggling with the apartment's difficult electric can opener trying to open a can of soup for dinner when the doorbell rang. She peeked out the window to see a wiry, rugged-looking woman standing there with a steaming pot held in both hands. Of course, Martha opened the door.

"Hi," said the woman, marching in full speed ahead and setting the hot pot on Martha's stove. She turned around to face the disconcerted Martha.

"I'm Faye Murphy. I live in the apartment in back of this one. Sorry I wasn't here to welcome you when you got to Ketchikan, but I was out in the bush working. More about that later. What's your name?"

"Martha. Martha Rose," Martha said. The woman appeared to be in her late fifties, and she wore a black eye-patch.

"No, I'm not a pirate, dear. I got clawed by a lynx over on Chichagof Island a long time ago. I like the drama of black, don't you? I figure this patch gives me a reckless air. Have you had dinner yet? I brought you chicken soup."

Martha wouldn't have cared whether Faye had brought a pot of glue, she was so happy to see a friendly face. And chicken soup was the best medicine Martha could imagine, even though she wasn't sick. Chicken soup reminded Martha of her mother.

"Thanks," she said, beaming at Faye. She lifted the lid. "It doesn't look as though it needs heating."

"I shouldn't think so. It's been simmering all afternoon. Do you have some bowls? I hope you don't mind my inviting myself for dinner, but I just got back from a week in the wilderness, and I needed to see a friendly face."

Martha filled big stoneware soup bowls with steaming hot soup, and Faye produced a box of crackers from the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. They sat down at Martha's little table.

"So tell me about yourself, dear," Faye said briskly. "What brings you to Ketchikan? The men?"

"Men?" Whoever this Faye Murphy was, Martha decided, she was definitely unconventional.

"Ten men to every woman in Alaska. Surely you knew that."

"Well, um, I'd heard about it. But no, that wasn't a factor in my decision. What brought me to Ketchikan was purely business." And she went on to tell Faye about Sidney and the Bagel Barns and how she would eventually share in the profits.

"Sounds good to me," Faye told her. "Most of the women we get—well, they're thinking about the lonely guys who come here to fish for a living or work at the cannery or the lumber mill.
They
—the men, I mean—come to make a killing financially. They can work for a high salary at the mill or the cannery for a few months, live cheaply and sock it all away and go back to Seattle or Vancouver to loaf for the rest of the year. That's not for me. I like to keep busy all the time."

"What do you do?" asked Martha.

"I'm a nurse, dear. Came up here in the eighties looking for adventure, and I found it, all right. I accompany Dr. Andy Sharf when he flies out to take care of people who live too far from town to see a doctor. Would you like to hear about the lynx attack?"

Martha nodded. She'd wanted to ask but thought it might be a topic Faye would prefer to avoid. By this time, however, Martha had an idea that Faye didn't avoid any topic.

"We made an emergency landing in Dr. Andy's plane on Chichagof Island—this was back in the 1990s, I've forgotten exactly when. There was an old hunter's shack still standing, so Dr. Andy and I prepared to spend the night. We'd emergency-landed before a couple of times when we had engine trouble, and we figured somebody'd find us by morning. So Dr. Andy says, 'Faye, go get some of that dry grass outside so I can start a fire in the fireplace.' There was plenty of wood stacked up inside, but there wasn't any tinder. So I stepped outside and walked smack into a mother lynx protecting her young. I screamed and ran inside, but not before she slapped me with her paw. I managed to slam the door on her whiskers, but by that time my eye was a goner. Glad I have one left, though."

Martha was shaken by Faye's story and the matter-of-fact way in which it was told.

"Oh, you don't need to worry," Faye assured her. "You won't run into a lynx in Ketchikan unless you go outside the town. Anyway, bears are much more common."

"Bears? I've always been afraid of bears. I didn't even want a teddy bear when I was a kid!"

"Stay inside town and you'll seldom see a bear. A live one, anyway. There might be a few teddy bears wandering around."

"Good grief!" muttered Martha, whose irrational dislike of bears was real and based on having been frightened by them as a child when she visited the zoo. To hide her agitation, she got up and brought out the chocolate-chip cookies she'd brought from San Francisco.

"My, these are good," exclaimed Faye as she nibbled at the last one.

"Can you recommend a place where I can buy fresh-baked cookies?" Martha asked anxiously as she watched the cookie disappear into Faye's mouth. "I think I've developed a full-blown addiction."

"Sorry, but I don't know of any local bakery that bakes cookies as good as these. I have a recipe for chocolate-chip cookies, though. It's a good one; it was my mother's. I'm not much good at cooking or baking, I'm sorry to say. Still, if you'd like it, I'll make a copy of the recipe for you when you decide you need a quick fix."