Shelter Me Home (2 page)

That trucker wasn’t headed the right way, and the next said he didn’t pick up hitchers as a rule, which left her standing in the middle of the parking lot collecting snowflakes on her eyelashes. Okay, now what?

She could’ve asked Aanon to give her a ride, but she’d rather walk than ask for help from that obnoxious, sexy oaf. Walking wasn’t actually a terrible idea. Up the road, little log shops and houses dotted the mountainside. Surely she would have better luck hitching if she cast her net a little wider. She huffed a big steamy sigh and trudged toward the main road. It wasn’t until she was shaking and chugging breath that she realized her idea would have been a much stronger one if she was conditioned to the altitude.

The rev of an engine sounded behind her, and she turned with a ready smile, one that left her lips almost immediately when she saw who it was. A beat up old Chevy pick-up with heavy chains on its oversized tires pulled up beside her, and Aanon Falk leaned over the passenger seat to roll down the window lever.

“Get in,” he said in the most agitated tone she’d ever heard from another human.

“Polite decline.” She proudly dragged her too heavy bag behind her through the snow and Aanon followed in his truck.

“You’d rather walk up the damned mountain than accept a ride? Look, I’m headed to Cooper Landing, and I’m not a psychopath.” He looked around dramatically. “And I don’t see other offers piling up around you. Get in. Preferably before the weather hits us like a sack of rocks.”

The dark, roiling storm clouds did give her some sense of anxiety, and he was right about no one else offering to tote her the final way to her destination. Still, it was a shot to her pride to accept a ride from someone who really should’ve known who she was. Their last names started with the same letter, so she had sat beside him in most of their classes growing up.

“Fine,” she growled out.

He threw open the passenger door, and she pushed her luggage into the bench seat between them.

Tugging a thick glove from his right hand, he offered it. “My name’s Aanon.”

This was it. She’d tell him her name, and he’d finally recognize her and feel like a douche for being so blind before. It wasn’t as if her name was common, after all.

She gave his hand a firm shake. “Farrah.”

Nothing.

Not even a spark of recognition that said the name sounded familiar to him.

She might as well have never existed in Alaska before this moment. Instead of responding, he threw the truck into gear and hit the gas. The tires whined against the ice for a moment before the chains caught traction and off they went.

In an acute desperation to escape any kind of awkward conversation that was headed her way, she leaned her cheek against the cold window and closed her eyes. If she went to sleep, the two hour trip would pass in no time at all.

She didn’t have a clue what she’d do when she got there. And goodness knew, she had more decisions to make than was fair for any one person. But if she was going to rescue her own life, it would have to be done in the home she fled all those years before.

Aanon’s gaze arched to the woman for the tenth time before he focused on the icy road again. She was pretty. Even without make-up, any red-blooded man could see she was a beautiful woman, but he had exactly zero space in his life for another half-crazed female. One was more than enough.

Still, it was hard to keep his eyes away from the dark tresses of hair that fanned her shoulder and looked shinier than wet seal’s fur. Or how her face had relaxed in her sleep, and her full, petal-pink lips had crooked up in a smile like she was having a good dream. Her eyes had been a stunning shade of green, like rain engorged moss on the north side of a tree. Even her dark eyebrows arched perfectly and gave away every emotion she experienced. And why was it so damned attractive that she was put off by him? Went out of her way to ignore him, even. Was it the challenge in her frustrated looks that had him basically begging to give her a ride?

She had to be visiting kinfolk in The Landing because no tourist ended up there this close to winter. In the summer, tourism was a way of life, but once the snow started, sightseers scattered like roaches under a flashlight. Winters in this part of Alaska weren’t for the weak at heart. Only the gristliest animals survived its harshness, survived the bone deep loneliness that months of deep snow brought.

Pulling his eyes off the road again, he frowned at her sleeping form. She didn’t seem tough enough by half.

As he maneuvered another switchback, Farrah sat up with wide, frightened eyes. “Pull over,” she said in a panicked voice.

“What? No. This isn’t exactly the best place to get out. We’ll be to the Landing in twenty minutes.”

“Pull over!” she yelled, grappling for the door handle.

Aanon cursed and slammed on the brakes. Whether he stopped or not, she was getting out, and her side was teetering on a steep embankment.

Pouring out of the cab like she had no bones at all, the sound of her retching echoed off the mountain. With the truck thrown into park, the snow crunched under his heavy boots as he jogged around the bed. He froze when he saw her. Holding tightly to her stomach, she got sick right over a guard rail. Shit.

He’d seen this before, and pity tugged at the hardest parts of him. The girl was in more trouble than she’d let on.

“It’s okay,” he said as he pulled her hair back into a bunch at the nape of her neck. “Shhh,” he said when she slumped forward.

“Sorry,” she murmured pitifully.

Squatting down beside her, he rubbed her back. “How far along are you?”

Wide green eyes glanced at him before she lowered her chin again. “I don’t know. I haven’t been to a doctor yet. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Who would he tell? He didn’t know her from Eve, and it was pretty doubtful that out of all the people on the planet, they happened to run with the same friends. “I won’t.”

Without another word, she climbed into the passenger seat of the truck and shut the door. He waited, stunned, for a few moments before he got behind the wheel again. What kind of desperation would cause a woman to hitch rides from strangers while she was pregnant?

He gripped the steering wheel as the rumble of the idling truck filled the silence. “Are you in trouble, Farrah?”

Her eyes were so sad when she turned to him. “No. Not anymore.”

Working hard to swallow around the lump in his throat, he pulled the gear shift into drive and eased uphill. Unable to look at her after the hollowness of that expression, the same emptiness that matched his own soul, he drove the last forty miles without a single glance in her direction.

The sooner he got her to where she was going and out of his life, the better.

****

Great. All Aanon had to do was tell one person, and then the entire southern part of Alaska would know her predicament in two days flat. Whoever said pregnancy was glowing, getting to eat anything you wanted, and beautiful, magical stuff—well, they lied big. So far, it had just been puking. And sweating. And hormones, which could probably be blamed for her little ogle-fest at Aanon in the gas station earlier. Farrah’s body no longer belonged to her, but to the life growing inside of her.

Aanon didn’t even look at her the rest of the drive to town. Well, that settled it. The fastest way to snuff out any interest from an interesting man was to tell him you were having another man’s baby. She’d really have to keep that little gem for future conversations with suitors she didn’t want to talk to.

But, she hadn’t wanted that reaction from Aanon. She searched his carefully empty expression for any of the tenderness he’d shown when she was sick. It was for the best that they would part ways in a matter of minutes. He’d been kind to give her a ride, and even kinder to be gentle with her when she wasn’t feeling well, but his aloofness now hurt in ways she couldn’t explore for fear of the pain deepening.

Cooper Landing, Population 289
, a green road sign read as they passed.

Jaw clenched and hands gripping the wheel, he asked, “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

“Um. That tourist shop off of Sterling would be great.”

“Wildman’s?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

When he pulled up in front of the store, he hopped out and opened her door. His attention seemed to be taken with the storm clouds above them, but still, it had been a long time since a man opened a door for her. Sweet gestures hadn’t been Miles’s thing.

After she’d exited the cab, Aanon pulled her luggage from the seat and set it on the icy sidewalk. “Good luck with everything.”

It was a sad goodbye. Surely, after this secret that sat in the open air between them, one that only they shared, more intimate things should be said. He was now the only person on earth who knew about the baby besides her. When it came down to it, though, Aanon was a stranger and her secret wasn’t his problem.

“You too,” she said.

When he pulled away, the full weight of her predicament slid directly onto her shoulders, and oh, it was a great weight to bear. Aanon and the school day memories he had conjured had been a beautiful distraction from planning a future from nothing. Now, it was up to her to completely reinvent her life. She had no place to stay, little money, and no job. Not only that, but the tiny person inside of her was now depending on her success. She pressed the palm of her gloved hand on her still flat stomach and whispered, “Don’t worry.”

Wildman’s was picturesque. It was two stories and made of felled logs with snowcapped mountains as a backdrop. Her final resort would be to visit Momma. It would be better, easier, if she was properly set up with a home and a job before she went to beg for the answers she could only get in person. Getting sucked into living in her old home would be a one way ticket to a broken life, and right now, it was imperative to her happiness that she stand on her own.

Under the weight of her luggage, she stomped her snow boots on the welcome mat at the door and approached one of the cashiers. “Excuse me. Do you know of any places to rent around here?”

The teenager was in the process of emptying a roll of quarters into his drawer and pointed to a large bulletin board up front. “Sometimes people put want ads up there.”

“Thanks.”

With enough money stashed in her bag to cover a deposit and one month’s rent if it was cheap enough, she should be able to secure herself a place and start looking for a job. All she needed was for her luck to hold.

The rentals on the board were way out of her price range, and when she called the town real estate professional from a pay phone out front, the woman described the six rentals she knew about, and every one of them was too grandiose for her pocket book. She stood, resting her back against the phone booth and biting her lip. What she couldn’t control would sort itself out. She’d started over before, and this was no different. She’d go look for a job first and find a cheap room for the night somewhere. Then tomorrow, she’d tackle the living situation after she figured out how much her job would pay. Heartened, she set the rickety wheels of her bag on the sidewalk out front, which someone had thoughtfully shoveled. A new layer of snow was blanketing it, so she tightened her grip and dragged it along. The bag thumped and bumped behind her as she trudged up the street. The sign on the front door of Wildman’s said they weren’t hiring, but she’d try every store in town until something stuck. She wasn’t picky. Desperate times did that to a person.

The laundromat and graphic design store were closed due to inclement weather. A wood carver’s shop owner said she needed more experience to land a job with him, and a small travel office was only big enough for the one employee currently working there. The general store had a very familiar Chevy parked out front with steam coming from its exhaust, so that was out of the question, and the taxidermy store, gas station, and fly and rod store weren’t hiring.

It wasn’t until, exhausted and anxious, she pulled her luggage up to Briney’s Tavern and Tackle that she had that feeling she often got before something was about to go right. She’d started as a bartender in a murky bar on the outskirts of New York and worked her way from bar to bar until she was serving the city’s elite. She’d even managed her shifts for about five months before she left.

Clenching her teeth, she made her way up the creaking porch stairs. She just wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Inside the bar, the theme was rustic chic. The floors and rafters were wooden, and old rusted street signs decorated the walls. Fishing nets decorated the corners with stuffed salmon and halibut hanging from them, and the bar top took up half the room, with plenty of stools for the few bar patrons who dotted them. Inhaling, she took in the musty air. No smoke at all, which made this a more viable option in her current condition.

“Are you hiring?” she asked the balding man behind the bar.

He dried a glass with a worn cloth and shook his head. “Sorry, we aren’t right now. About to hit the slow season I’m afraid.”

Disappointment tasted bitter as she bit back the tremble that threatened to commandeer her lips. It had been a long, emotional day. She was tired, weak, and hungry again after having tossed her breakfast over the side of a mountain. She had no place to stay, no job, and she wasn’t above begging.

Sliding the extended handle of her suitcase back into place, she lifted the countertop door and let it fall behind her.

“What are you doing?” the old bartender asked. “You can’t be in here!”

“Mr.”—she squinted at his nametag—“Briney. I’m a hard worker, and I know the bar. Even if you only have a few shifts a week, I’ll take anything you’ve got.” She pulled a glass and filled it with beer at the perfect angle to limit the frothy head on top. “What’ll you have?” she asked a man with two missing front teeth who grinned at the show. “On me.”

He crossed his arms and smiled wide. “I want a Doc Holliday, little lady.”

She laughed and picked up Jack Daniel’s Tennessee whiskey and spun the bottle before she tossed it in the air and caught it behind her back. With a crook of her eyebrow at Briney, she poured the shot into a clean glass and covered it with orange juice, Jagermeister herbal liqueur, and finished it off with a pour of Dr. Pepper. The bar wasn’t familiar, and she had to hunt a few moments for ingredients, but it went as smoothly as it could.

“Hired!” the snaggle-toothed man yelled, slapping the counter when she put the drink on a napkin in front of him.

“Pipe down, you old crusty sod,” Briney muttered. “All right, little lady, you have my interest. Where did you learn to tend a bar?”

“New York.”

“Oh, yeah? And how’d you end up here at the end of the world?”

She narrowed her eyes, not about to share her life story to a bar top full of curious drinkers. “I like the fresh air.”

“We’ll start you at three nights a week on our busy nights. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday work for you?” At a nod of her head, he continued, “I’ll give you two-fifteen an hour, and you can keep your tips. You’re on probation, which means if I don’t like the way you run my bar, you’re out. If you do well, we’ll talk about giving you more shifts in a few months.”

She stood there grinning like an idiot.

“Well,” he said. “Hand me that beer you poured, pay for Larry’s drink, and be gone before I change my mind.”

With shaking fingers, she pulled out a couple of dollar bills and waved to Larry and Briney, then turned to leave. As she reached for the door, it flung open, almost crushing her hand. She gasped as a small herd of people filed in.

“Hey, girl!” Briney shouted. “I changed my mind. You’re working your first shift now. I’m taking a break.”

“Okay,” she said, stunned. Dropping her bag behind the counter and peeling off her jacket, scarf, and mittens, she shook out her long hair and ran a rag over the dirty bar top out of habit to calm her nerves. While the three men and two women settled onto the stools, Farrah looked over the labels on the bottles surrounding her, committing to memory where everything was.

When she looked up, she had her bartender face on. Outgoing, chatty, friendly, she could charm even the surliest drinkers. She had the advantage of confidence and experience.

“What can I do you for?” she asked the two ladies on the end. One of them looked familiar, but she couldn’t place her face. She was pretty, with auburn hair and light brown eyes.