Mary Connealy (5 page)

Six

Amy’s eyes flickered open. She stared at the ceiling overhead and wondered where she was. A noise made her turn her head, and she saw woodlands through an open window. The cool, crisp air and the sharp, sweet smell of cedar cleared her head. Alaska. Home.

Papa.

The memory hit her hard. A cry of pain nearly erupted from her throat. She choked it back, and it felt as if she swallowed jagged stones.

She’d never see her father again.

Fighting tears, she pushed the thick bearskin cover aside. The room felt sharply cold in the spring morning, but she’d been comfortable beneath the heavy fur. As she moved, her muscles protested.

Before she could sit up, the door opened, and a young woman entered.

“I thought I heard you moving in here.” The pretty, dark-haired lady carried a tray. Amy could see a plate piled high with eggs, most likely duck eggs this time of year. Someone who knew the woods could feast in the spring. The plate had a slab of meat on it, too. Amy smelled mutton. If she’d been home, her father would have gone fishing early and brought in fresh salmon for breakfast.

Her eyes spilled over.

The woman set the tray down on a short table and dropped onto the bed beside Amy. “I’m Meredith, Braden’s sister-in-law. Braden told us you just found out your father died. I’m so sorry, Amy.” The woman wrapped her arms around Amy’s shoulders and pulled her close.

Braden had talked about his brother and his new wife. The future had been safe to discuss; it was the past he’d avoided. Amy couldn’t resist the warm arms. She held on tight and cried her eyes out.

When the storm had spent itself, Meredith eased Amy away.

Amy saw tears on the kind woman’s face.

“I’m so sorry about your father.” Meredith drew a square of cloth from her apron pocket. She handed it to Amy, then dried her own eyes on her apron. “I know we can’t begin to take the place of your father, but please stay with us. I was so thrilled to see Braden bring a woman yesterday, I nearly cried at the sight of you. I’m so lonely for a woman’s company, I told Ian I was about to head out for Seattle to kidnap a woman off the street, bring her here, and force her to talk to me.” Meredith smiled. “You’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

Amy burst out laughing. Somehow the laughter was almost as wrenching as the tears. “You mean I’m a prisoner?”

“Don’t even think of trying to escape. I’m a desperate woman.”

Amy smiled. “So, you just survived your first Alaskan winter, then?”

Meredith’s eyes widened into perfect circles. “It’s dark for six months!”

Amy felt the smile hold, which shocked her when her heart hurt so badly. She couldn’t remember ever being this fond of someone on so short an acquaintance. “I lived in Alaska until the age of twelve when my mother died. I noticed the long winters.”

“You’d better eat your breakfast. You’re going to need plenty of strength to sit and listen to me talk for the next six weeks.” Meredith reached for the tray and slid it in front of Amy. Arching her eyebrows, she said, “Make it six months.”

“I don’t need breakfast in bed. I’ll come out to the kitchen.” Amy tried to set the tray aside.

“No, that’ll take too long. You just start eating. I’ll tell you about my life. When you’re done eating, it will be your turn. It all started when I came up here to live with my twin brother, Tucker.”

Amy enjoyed every bite of the breakfast. She’d forgotten the special flavor of duck eggs. The bighorn sheep reminded her that her father had shot and smoked one every year but the tough, stringy, savory meat was a treat, not something to be eaten every day. They mainly ate salmon, halibut, seal, and even an occasional bit of whale when Amy’s Tlingit relatives came past on their way north after a successful sea hunt.

They’d eaten the meat of whatever he trapped for fur, if possible. Mother made muskrat into a tasty stew combined with the greens and roots she’d coax out of the cold Alaskan dirt.

Amy would have had lapses into grief if Meredith hadn’t chattered on while Amy ate, talking about her family and pointing out the window she’d had Ian add to the room so that they could get better air movement. Amy knew from Meredith’s kind expression that the lady was deliberately putting herself out to be comforting.

When Amy finished her meal, Meredith said, “I’ve been heating water so you can have a warm bath.”

Amy sat forward so eagerly she nearly fell out of bed. “Warm water?”

“Yes, and plenty of it. There’s wood to burn and water to heat if nothing else. Especially now that spring is here and we don’t need to burn constantly just to keep the bitter cold at bay.”

“Thank you. You shouldn’t have. I could have bathed in the river.” Amy’d done it many times and learned to think of the icy water as invigorating. Still, a warm bath was one of the things she’d liked best about Seattle.

Meredith shuddered. “Many’s the time I’ve bathed in the river. You’ll have to do it, too. But not this first time—not when you’re so exhausted from the trip and drained from the awful news.”

The mention of her father twisted Amy’s wounded heart. “Is Braden here?” She saw the curious gleam in Meredith’s eyes and wished she’d held her tongue.

“Yes, he’s staying with us of course. He slept nearly as long and hard as you did. But he’s already up and going strong. He’s like his brother and mine when it comes to work. Our lives will be much easier with three men to do the heavy chores. It kept Tucker and Ian hopping to heat both cabins.”

“You’ll meet Tucker at dinner.” Another gleam came into Meredith’s eyes.

Amy could imagine what Meredith was thinking this time. The teachers at the mission had tried to persuade Amy to court. But she’d always planned to return to Alaska. No sense attaching herself to some man who might not want to come.

“I know you’ll like my brother. We. . .”

Settling back a bit until Meredith wound down again, Amy enjoyed the talk of Meredith’s family. A movement drew her attention, and she saw Braden standing in the open door, holding a steaming bucket in one hand and a large wooden tub in the other.

Amy reached quickly to tug on Meredith’s sleeve. Meredith looked at Amy, then turned to the door.

Rising from the bed, she said, “Bring it in, Braden. Don’t let it cool.

Amy waited until she stood alone in her room, then quickly prepared for her bath. She longed to soak her aching muscles, but there was too much to do for her to linger. She’d already wasted a good part of the day in bed. She could see by the sunlight climbing the bedroom wall through the window that she’d slept half the morning away. She finished her tub bath in mere minutes even with taking the time to unbraid her hair and wash it with the bit of soap Meredith had left.

Amy combed and braided her hair while it was still wet. She pulled her other dress out of her satchel and slipped it on, then washed out her clothes and draped them on nails on the wall. Then she stepped out to the main room to see if she could be of use.

The first thing Amy noticed was a lovely window in the opposite wall. Someone had taken time and love to create it. A glass window was hard to come by in Alaska because glass was so fragile. But this window had been made with bottles of different colors. A cross had been fashioned from deep brown bottles in the center of it. Amy had already sensed Meredith had God in the center of her life, and this window just made it all the more certain from whom this family drew its strength.

The front door stood wide open, and Meredith worked outside, leaning over a table.

Amy wanted to go to Braden and thank him for getting her here yesterday. She couldn’t remember anything after she left her father’s house. Braden had stepped in, as he had the whole trip, and taken care of her. She felt shy to talk to him for some reason, so she took a step toward Meredith and froze.

For the first time, she noticed the crates Braden had brought up the river with him. They were piled high throughout the cabin. Amy’s eyes widened at the things that draped out of the boxes and sat here and there on the floor.

Pure garbage.

A white and gold china figurine of a fine lady, her hair piled high on her head, holding out her long skirts as if to curtsy. Bolts of cloth—pretty but lightweight and impractical. A set of glass dishes. Only a few plates and cups survived intact.

A mantel clock, large and ornate. Amy shook her head. The clock ticked away on the roughly built kitchen table that took up half the room. But what did time matter in Alaska? Time was simple: dark and light, winter and not winter. Besides, the Raffertys didn’t have a mantel. She remembered the Simonovich cabin did. The beautiful mantel in her father’s cabin had been carved by her grandfather. The contents of its hidden drawer might prove her father hadn’t sold the cabin.

She had to go back. She had to open that secret drawer. If her father had sold the cabin, the deed would be signed over to the new owner. If the deed still lay hidden in that drawer, then the man had taken the cabin and perhaps even killed her father.

A wave of grief stopped her from charging outside and heading straight for her father’s house. She wasn’t even sure how much farther they’d come upstream, although she had no doubt she’d find her way home without trouble. She needed to wait until she’d regained her strength, and she needed to repay the Raffertys for their kindness.

Amy walked outside in the spring warmth and sunlight, savoring the feel of a cool breeze against her damp hair. She noticed Braden splitting logs and approached Meredith. “Why is Braden doing that, Meredith?”

Meredith, standing over a cobbled-together table and slicing sheep steaks, straightened. “Call me Merry, please. He’s chopping wood.” Meredith smiled. “Who knows why? Ian told him to pick it up off the ground, but Braden seems determined to do it the hard way.”

Amy glanced at the tidy stone fireplace on the side of the cabin. “What he’s splitting is too fresh. If he picks up windfall branches, they’re already cured. The fresh wood smokes.”

Meredith, her hands covered in blood from her carving, looked a little pale, but she smiled. “We told him all that. He just said he needed to work off some energy, and it’d be cured by winter. Which is true. Ian told me to leave him to it. I think it has something to do with Maggie. He must need to keep busy.”

“Who is Maggie?”

Meredith’s eyes widened. “I thought you’d traveled here together. He said he met you on the ship.”

“We did.”

“He never told you that his wife died three months ago, giving birth to their first child?”

Amy’s grief, fresh and deep, swept over her. She remembered that moment when Braden had faced her at Papa’s cabin. She’d known he mourned someone. Tears burned her eyes. “No, he never told me.”

Meredith shook her head. “I’m sorry to have spoken of it. You’re thinking of your father now; I can see.”

There was no time to spare for tears. Amy dashed to wipe them away, then straightened her spine and turned to the day’s chores. “Why are you having sheep again? It’s tough, and they’re heavy to cart home. The skins are nice, but I prefer bearskin or sealskin.” Amy clamped her mouth shut, realizing she sounded rude. She’d always had trouble not speaking her mind.

Meredith calmly turned to a pail of water and washed her hands; then she took off her bloody apron and tossed it over a tree stump that stood next to her makeshift table. Without warning, she whirled around, launched herself the few feet separating her from Amy, and hugged her.

Amy staggered back. Her healing ribs protested, but she caught Meredith and hugged her back. “What is it?”

Amy looked over Meredith’s shoulder and saw Braden pause in his chopping to look at them and arch an eyebrow. Amy shrugged.

Whispering, Meredith said, “I’m so sick of mutton I could die!” Her voice broke. Amy felt Meredith’s shoulders shudder, and tears dripped onto her neck. Amy controlled the urge to smile.

Braden shook his head and disappeared into the woods, no doubt walking past perfectly cured wood lying at his feet to do things the hard way.

“The reason we’re eating it right now is that Ian and Tucker love fresh meat. So do I as a rule. We need to refill the smoke-house before winter, but in the meantime, my menfolk want fresh steaks!”

“What about salmon? It’s time for the salmon runs.”

Meredith nodded. “Ian’s been watching the river. He’ll bring in a good supply of that, soon.”

“I know a place a few miles downstream that’s away from the river. I’m not sure how far we came yesterday, but that stream may be closer to you than it was to my home. I’ll find it. My mother and I used to spear enough fish to last all winter with only a couple of days work.”

Tears filled Meredith’s eyes. “That sounds good. But for now, I’ve got to finish cutting the steaks off this beast, then cut the rest in strips so I can start smoking it.” Her shoulders sagged, and she looked over her shoulder at the raw meat.

“I’ll smoke the meat, Merry.”

Meredith dashed her wrist across her eyes. “I’m just being silly today. I’m sorry. It seems I cry at the drop of a hat these days. I’ll finish this. I’m almost ready to light a fire in the smokehouse. Go tell Braden to stop chopping and start picking up the wood that’s lying thick on the ground.” Meredith smiled, then turned back to her chore, fastening her apron firmly around her slender middle.