Brides of Alaska (20 page)

After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, Beth went once again to the living room, where she looked over the lists she had made the previous evening. Taking three thumbtacks, Beth posted her lists to the wall, determined to mark each item off as she accomplished the tasks. She was reaching for the telephone to call Pastor McCarthy when a knock sounded at the front door.

Beth opened it to reveal her closest neighbor and friend, Karen Sawin. Karen was always bubbly and happy-go-lucky, but the look on her face told Bethany that she'd already guessed or heard about the newest telegram.

“I thought you might be able to use a friend,” Karen said as she extended a freshly baked loaf of bread.

Beth accepted the still-warm bread and ushered Karen into the house. “Thanks. You always seem to know the right thing to do.”

“So,” Karen started uncomfortably, “I guess you heard something official.”

“Yes, JB was killed in action,” Beth said matter-of-factly as she put the bread on the coffee table and offered Karen a seat on the couch. “You'll have to forgive the way I look. I fell asleep out here last night and haven't changed clothes.”

“Why don't you go ahead and take a nice hot bath and let me keep an eye on the boys?” Karen suggested.

Beth smiled and reached out to take hold of Karen's hand. “You are such a dear friend. I'd really like that, if you don't mind. Afterward, we can have a long talk.”

“Of course,” Karen said. “Whatever you need.”

An hour later, Beth emerged looking refreshed. She'd washed and dried her pale blond hair and gathered it back at the sides with mother-of-pearl combs.

“I feel like a new woman,” Beth said as she joined Karen in the living room. She wore a freshly pressed cotton dress whose bright peach color was trimmed with a white eyelet collar and armbands. The matching belt showed off Beth's tiny waistline.

“You look so skinny, Beth. I'll bet you haven't eaten a decent meal since JB …” Karen fell silent.

“It's all right, Karen,” Beth said as she leaned over to pat her friend's hand. “What's happened has happened. JB is dead. We can't change it by not talking about it.”

“You're taking it awfully well. I doubt I would be as capable as you,” Karen said honestly.

“I'm not handling it that well, Karen. I'm just numb and reliant upon the Lord.”

Karen nodded at Beth's words.

“No doubt in a week or two, I'll be beside myself,” Beth continued, “but then again, maybe not. I do have to be strong for the boys—after all, they can't be expected to lose both of their parents.”

“That's true,” Karen said as she pushed back her dark hair, “and we both know JB wouldn't want you to be sad. I don't think I ever saw JB with a frown on his face.”

“Nor I,” Beth agreed. “JB was a terminally happy man. He always joked that St. Peter would meet him at the pearly gates and ask him what was so funny. JB did love to laugh.”

“I'll never forget the night before he left,” Karen remembered. “He was laughing and dancing with everyone, including old Mr. Thompson.” Karen stopped short and looked away. “Here I meant to come over and get your mind off JB, and I'm doing just the opposite.”

“I know what you mean. I tell myself I don't have to deal with everything at once. I mean, it's been nearly a year since JB joined the service. Aside from his few brief letters, the void has been something I've dealt with in an ongoing manner. Yet now that I know he isn't coming back, it seems important to put all our affairs in order and to move on.” Beth stared intently into Karen's hazel eyes. “Does that make any sense?”

“I think each person must deal with grief in their own manner. I know I'd be inclined to run away from all of it. Please don't think me unfeeling, Bethany, but I pray to God I never have to know. If something happened to my Miles, I just know I'd crumble.”

Beth leaned over and hugged Karen tightly. “I don't think badly of you at all. I pray you never have to know either. I pray daily that this war will end and Miles will come home safely to you.”

“You are such a dear friend, Beth. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Beth pulled away and got to her feet. “As a matter of fact, there is. I've made several lists.” She paused with a grin. “You know me and my lists.”

Karen nodded and returned her friend's smile.

“Anyway,” Beth continued, “I plan to leave as soon as I can. I want to return to Alaska with the boys and raise them as Americans. After all, they were born in America, and just because their father is—was—Canadian, that doesn't mean they can't share in my heritage as well.”

“But where will you go? You haven't any family still living there. Who will take care of you?” Karen questioned in a concerned tone.

“God will take care of me, Karen. Remember Isaiah 54:4–5: ‘Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed: neither be thou confounded; for thou shalt not be put to shame: for thou shalt forget the shame of thy youth, and shalt not remember the reproach of thy widowhood any more. For thy Maker is thine husband; the Lord of hosts is his name; and thy Redeemer the Holy One of Israel; The God of the whole earth shall he be called.'”

“You have a strong faith, Bethany. I'll do whatever I can to help you, but I'll miss you sorely,” Karen said as she got to her feet. “Just tell me what I can do.”

As spring warmed into summer and the nights grew shorter, Bethany finalized her plans for moving her family to Alaska. She left many of her things with Karen, promising to send for them as soon as she and the boys were settled.

Then, despite the fact that an airplane had claimed the life of her husband, Bethany loaded her boys into the plane of JB's best friend and mentor, Pete Calhoon. With a last look at the place she and JB had called home, Beth turned, resolving to put the past behind her and start a new life in Alaska.

C
rash! Bang! Julie Curtiss cringed at the sound of the slamming doors. The clamor could only mean one thing: Her brother was home, and he wasn't at all happy.

August Eriksson came stomping into the room. Mindless that his heavy boots were covered in mud, August marched across Julie's clean kitchen floor and threw his body against the back of a chair.

“Bad news?” Julie braved the words. Her dark eyes were sympathetic as she reached out to touch her brother's sleeve.

“They said I was too old,” August grumbled the words. “I'm not even forty-two, and they think I'm too old to join the military.”

Julie bit back a remark about being glad that August couldn't go off to the war in the Pacific. Ever since Pearl Harbor had been bombed the previous winter, August had been bent on participating in the defense of his country.

“A lot of other people are going off and serving,” August said, dejected. Although he was two years Julie's senior, he seemed like a little boy to his sister.

“Maybe God has another plan for you, August,” Julie suggested as she went to the huge cast-iron stove and poured two steaming mugs of coffee.

“I don't think He has any plans for me. I mean, just look at me, Jewels,” he said, using his sister's nickname. “Pa died a year ago, and you and Sam took over the house.”

“But August, you asked us to move in here in order to help with the dog kennel,” Julie said defensively. “Sam and I can certainly move back to town if you like.”

“No. No. No,” August said as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I didn't mean for you to think that. I would have gone mad if you and Sam hadn't moved in here. It's just, oh, I don't know.”

Julie patted August's hand. “I know you want to help fight the war, but August, maybe there's something special for you here in Nome.”

“I used to think that, too, but after all these years of being alone except for you, Sam, and Pa, I just want to get out.”

“Look, August, it's the middle of the darkest days,” Julie said with a glance at the calendar. “It's only the end of March, and with all the darkness we have in the winter, a body is bound to get discouraged.”

“It's more than that, Julie. I wanted to have a family. I want to get married and be a father. I want a home of my own, something I can build up with my own hands. I want to have a purpose and be needed by others and to need them in return. I just don't belong here with you and your husband.”

“But Sam's your best friend,” Julie protested.

“I know, I know, and you're my only living relative. That's my point. I don't want to die without leaving something behind,” August answered.

“But if you go off to war and get yourself killed, you won't have a chance to marry and have a family. I can't lie and say I'm not relieved,” Julie finally admitted. “When the
Nome Nugget
started reporting the facts of the war, I cringed. I wasn't sure what Sam's response would be, or yours for that matter.

“I cried tears of joy when Sam told me he was too old to go. I'm just as happy to have you stay here, but my heart is broken for your anguish. Please don't hate me for wanting you to stay safe.”

“I don't hate you, Julie. I couldn't hate you or anyone else, but right now I'm pretty confused and plenty unhappy,” August said and got to his feet. “I'm going for a walk.”

“It's awfully cold out there,” Julie said and bit her tongue.
No sense in mothering August; he'll only resent it
.

“I know,” August said, pulling his parka on. “I shouldn't be too long. Maybe I'll run some of the dogs.”

“If you see Sam out there,” Julie said, trying to sound disinterested in August's plans, “would you mind sending him my way?”

“Not at all,” August replied and started to leave. “Oh, I'm sorry about the mud, Jewels. I can clean it up for you.”

“Never mind,” Julie said and waved him on. “You just get to feeling better. I'll have some lunch in about an hour.”

Julie watched her brother leave in silence. She ached for him and went to the living room determined to pray.

August kicked at the snow as he walked. He'd never known a time in his life when he'd felt so completely useless. Nothing in his life seemed right, and he'd lost all faith in the trust he'd once placed in God.

Forty-one didn't seem all that old to August. He felt vital and young. He could run thirty or more miles a day with his dogs, and he was never sick. How could the army tell him he was too old?

Without realizing what he was doing, August hitched a team of dogs to a sled. He hardly gave the process a second thought as he attached his lead dog first, then swing dogs, team dogs, and finally wheel dogs.

Each dog had his own special talent, and those who were weak were quickly weeded out and put to death. The harsh elements of the North didn't allow for anyone, be they man or beast, to exist without purpose. Perhaps that's why August felt so misplaced and out of sorts. He didn't have any real purpose.

August moved the dogs out without any particular destination in mind. He enjoyed watching the muscular frames of the dogs as they ran with a hearty eagerness.

Many Alaskans had traded in their dogs and sleds for gas-powered snow machines, but August found the dogs more dependable. The machines were always breaking down, and often they were incapable of withstanding the subzero temperatures. August reasoned it was impossible to gain warmth from steel and wood if you were stranded in the wilds, but a dog was good to curl up with when the north wind pounded blades of ice into your skin. He'd take his dogs over machines any day.

The dogs worked their way down the roadway to Nome, and when August realized he was nearly at the edge of town, he couldn't decide what to do with himself.

He spoke to no one and didn't offer so much as a wave when people greeted him. He simply anchored his dogs and walked into a nearby café. The look on his face as he pushed back his parka hood was enough to keep people at a distance. Everyone, that is, except his brother-in-law, who entered the restaurant from out of nowhere, on August's heels.

Sam Curtiss ignored August's scowl and motioned the waitress to bring coffee.

“Do you think it will help?” Sam asked, taking a seat opposite August.

“What are you talking about?” August growled.

“Feeling sorry for yourself,” Sam said with a grin. “Do you think it will help?”

“If you're here to preach at me, Sam, you can just forget it,” August said, refusing to look Sam in the eye.

Sam waited while an older woman poured two cups of thick, black coffee. When she was out of earshot, Sam leaned forward.

“I hadn't planned to preach,” he replied. “I just wondered if you were feeling any better.”

“No,” August answered flatly. “I don't feel any better, and I don't expect talking to you to make any difference.”

“Maybe you should give it a try,” Sam said, taking a drink. He eyed a questioning look at August.