Brides of Alaska (25 page)

August counted out ten dollars for Beth and pocketed the other two. He was tired, but grateful that it was Saturday. He'd managed to wrangle the following day off and hoped that somehow he'd talk Beth into a picnic with the boys. He was considering just how he might ask her, when Beth appeared to reclaim her pie tins.

“Looks like the meeting was successful,” Beth said as she stacked the pans.

“Yes, very,” August agreed and added, “Do you have to rush right back?”

The light was fading, and in the twilight that filtered through the tall birch and spruce trees, Beth's face seemed shrouded in the shadows. Still, August could see that she liked the idea of remaining.

“I can stay for a little while, although I hate to keep you up,” Beth said, putting the pans down and taking the seat across from August.

“That's one of the reasons I asked you to stay,” August replied. “I have tomorrow off and hoped that maybe you would agree to picnicking with the boys and me.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Beth admitted. “Perhaps you would accompany us to church first.” She knew August avoided any reference to such things, but she wanted to find out why he was hesitant when it came to God.

To August's own surprise, he agreed to go. “I suppose that would fall into line.”

“Church is at eleven, so you should be able to sleep late. I'll try to keep the boys quiet.”

“No, don't,” August answered. “I want to get up early and play with them.”

“I appreciate the way you look after them. I've never seen them so happy. They care quite deeply for you,” Beth said softly. “I hope you realize how much they adore you.”

“I do,” August said and leaned forward. “Does that worry you?”

“I suppose it does,” Beth replied. “They suffered the loss of their father, and then I uprooted them and moved them here. They need to feel secure about their home and the people they care about.”

“Do you think I'm incapable of offering them stability in our friendship?” August questioned seriously.

“Not really,” Beth said thoughtfully. “I suppose my real concern is that soon the road will be completed and you'll be on your way. I know that would be devastating to them.”

“Who says I'll be on my way? If I have something to stick around for, I can't see giving that up,” August whispered in a low, husky voice. He wondered if Beth would understand his meaning.

“I think as long as you want a reason to stay, you'll have one. The boys are devoted to you, and I want …” Beth grew uncomfortable and got to her feet. “I'd better clean up this mess.”

August got up and moved behind Beth. “I'd rather hear you finish that thought.”

Beth could feel his warm breath against her neck as August spoke. She wanted very much to get away from the loneliness that threatened to strangle her, but she was also afraid of the feelings that were building in her heart.

“I'm not sure it would be wise,” Beth finally whispered.

August very gently turned her to face him. He gazed deep into her eyes just before he lowered his lips to press a gentle kiss upon Beth's mouth. When she didn't protest, he pulled her close and held her for several minutes.

“Now, you were saying?” August asked as he pulled slightly away and lifted Beth's face to meet his stare.

“I don't know what to say,” Beth answered.

“Just speak what's on your heart,” August urged. He wanted so much to hear Beth say something that would indicate her interest in him.

“That's not always an easy thing to do, August.”

“No, maybe not,” August said, gently stroking Beth's cheek with his thumb. “But it's always the best.”

“I'm afraid.” Beth's words were barely audible.

“Of me?” August questioned, hurt showing on his face.

“No,” Beth replied. “I'm afraid of myself. Afraid of trusting too much, caring too much, needing too much.”

“Don't be,” August said, kissing Beth's hand and holding it close to his heart. “Just tell me what you started to say. Tell me what you want.”

“Stay,” Beth murmured. “I want you to stay.”

D
ays later, Beth sat considering her situation. There was, of course, the constant threat of war hanging over like an ever-present storm cloud. Added to this was the continual demands of the roadhouse and the responsibility of raising two boys without a father.

Her sons concerned her most, along with the fact that Beth was finally admitting how much she missed the companionship of a husband.

She hadn't realized how lonely she was until the night August had held her and kissed her. It was hard to admit to loneliness with hundreds of uniformed men and civilians milling up and down the path that ran in front of her roadhouse, but Beth was lonely. August only made that fact more evident.

True to his promise, August had accompanied her and the boys to Sunday school and church. He had appeared aloof and uncomfortable during the worship service, but he said nothing and acted as though he were simply preoccupied. Afterward, they'd enjoyed a wonderful summer afternoon, picnicking, fishing, and simply enjoying each other's company.

It was hard not to think about those moments with August, as well as their first kiss. Beth had made it very clear to August that she wanted him to stay. What she hadn't said was that she needed him to stay; she needed his company and his friendship in a way she couldn't begin to explain.

August had wanted Beth to talk about her feelings, but how could she when she scarcely understood them herself? And what about the issue of why August was avoiding God? There was a great deal about August Eriksson that Beth didn't understand, and those issues were important enough to her so that she wanted to go slow.

Beth pulled out her ledger books and tried to concentrate on the numbers. She made it through one or two lines before her thoughts drifted off. Suddenly, she was a million miles away from balancing the roadhouse books.

August's appearance in her life had brought so many benefits. The relationship he shared with her sons was a precious friendship that filled some of the void their father's death had created.

Phillip and Gerald accepted August as if he'd been JB returning from the war. It didn't matter to them, even after countless explanations, that August wasn't their daddy. Phillip refused to call him anything else, and often Gerald slipped up and referred to him that way. Beth found it increasingly acceptable for her boys to use the title, and when Gerald put JB's picture in the china cupboard, she realized he was symbolizing an end to his need for JB's memory.

Beth couldn't explain why she didn't fight the action or why it seemed perfectly natural to share her meals and spare time with a man she barely knew. But for the first time in months, her boys were happy, and neither one had bad dreams or moped around looking for a man who would never come home.

Looking down at her hand, Beth suddenly realized that she'd nearly twisted her wedding ring off her finger. She stared at the band for a moment, then pulled it off quickly and put it in the desk drawer. JB was gone, and August was here. Perhaps it was time to deal with the matter head on.

Giving up on the ledgers, Beth made her way through the house picking up toys and misplaced items. What a difference one year made! Where once baby rattles and teething rings had dotted the counters, now blocks and trucks sprouted up. Her babies had grown up so fast that it left Beth aching for the feel of holding them close. Perhaps she'd have more children one day.

The thought stunned her. She hadn't considered remarrying until August came into her life, and now she was contemplating a larger family. Maybe August wouldn't want more children.

“Stop it!” Beth said aloud. “I can't think this way. I've got myself married off and having more children, and all to a man I scarcely know!” The empty house absorbed her words, perfectly content to keep her secrets.

Outside, a summer storm was brewing. Beth could hear thunder rumble in the distance. She fought the urge to cry. Things weren't going badly at all, so why did she feel so blue?

The boys were spending the day in town with the woman who led their Sunday school class at the small interdenominational church. Mrs. Miller was a pleasant woman with graying hair and a grandmotherly shape. Being a widow of several years as well as childless, Mrs. Miller had aligned herself with Beth.

She was particularly fond of Phillip and Gerald, and when the older widow had invited the boys for lunch at her house, Beth had agreed, understanding Mrs. Miller's need. Now, however, Beth reconsidered. The house seemed empty and far too quiet.

Beth sighed. What was wrong with her? She had but to look out her front window and see more activity than most small towns could boast.

The path was being widened to meet road specifications, and Beth could count on no less than twenty different men pounding on her front door daily, seeking everything from water to food to permission to use the privy. She caught on, only after August informed her, that most of the men were doing it to have a chance to talk to the handsome widow of Gantry Roadhouse.

Beth blushed crimson as she remembered August's laughing eyes and boyish grin. He was amused that she had been too naive to figure it out for herself.

“You're a beautiful woman, Beth Hogan,” he had said, “and most of these men haven't had the opportunity to see, much less visit with, a woman of any kind since leaving the States and being assigned to this wilderness. Women are mighty scarce up here, so you might as well get used to being popular.”

Beth had feared August would think she'd done something to encourage the attention, but he never spoke of it and never seemed to mind when the boys told stories of visiting strangers.

The highway had been excellent for business, and because of this and the workers' avid interest, Beth could boast a lengthy list of men who were waiting their turn to take residence in her boardinghouse. Many of these made the excuse of checking on the availability of rooms and stayed on talking of the weather, the highway, or anything else that would delay their return to work.

Yet Beth was still lonely, and she couldn't understand why.

The clock in the hall chimed two, and Beth realized that her cakes were ready to come out of the oven. She had doubled up on baking, knowing that the next day would be devoted to washing clothes and linens, a job that always took an entire day. Often she was still hanging laundry after August arrived home.

Hurrying to the kitchen, Beth pulled out two cake pans along with an experimental recipe she was trying. The sourdough coffeecake, complete with berries and honey, looked every bit as good as it smelled, and Beth was hopeful that its flavor would match its appearance.

Silently, Beth thanked God for the endless supply of honey that one of her bachelor neighbors provided in exchange for mending and sewing. The older man seemed more than happy to give Beth all the honey she could use and even happier to spend time visiting and telling the boys tales of the old days when he'd lived off the land and searched for gold.

Beth realized that, because of such generosity and bartering for goods, she and the boys scarcely felt the effects of rationing that the war had made necessary. God had been truly good to them.

When her baking was completed, Beth was amazed to realize she still had almost two hours to pass before the boys and August would be home. August had agreed to pick the boys up at Mrs. Miller's house in order to spare either of the ladies from making the trip. At the time, Beth couldn't find any reason not to accept his offer. Now she wished she had a reason to take the long stroll into town.

Heaving a sigh, Beth decided to stop feeling sorry for herself. Instead, she would cook a special meal for her family's return. Putting her hands to work usually occupied her mind as well. Hopefully working on dinner would make the afternoon pass more quickly.

She thoughtfully chose foods that she knew everyone was fond of. Smoked salmon would be their meat, and for a side dish, Beth blended new potatoes, fresh green beans, and pieces of side meat. For dessert, they'd try her new berry coffeecake, a sure way, Beth decided, to know whether or not it was acceptable.

She was just finishing the table setting, using her finest tablecloth and wedding china, when she heard the boys' nonstop chatter as they drew near home.
What a beautiful sound
, Beth thought. She was so used to the constant noise of the road construction that when the men had stopped for supper, Beth hadn't noticed.

She was grateful that the army was taking time away from the project to have their own evening meal. No doubt with the added hours of light there'd soon be another shift at work, but for now Beth was going to thoroughly enjoy the noise that her sons raised and the words that August Eriksson would share at her dinner table.

“Mommy!” Gerald hollered as he came through the door. August followed with Phillip on his shoulders.

Beth smiled and welcomed Gerald into her arms. “Did you have a good time at Mrs. Miller's house?”

“Uh-huh,” Gerald said and held up a small sack. “We made cookies, and Mrs. Miller said we could bring them home.”

“How nice of her,” Beth said, and turned her attention from Gerald to Phillip. “And how about you, buster? Did you have a good time?”

“Had fun,” Phillip answered. “Got to ride on Daddy.”

“And I believe this child is eating too much,” August said as he lifted Phillip over his head and placed him on the ground. “Well, well. What's all this?” he said as he noticed the table.

“I just thought something special might be nice,” Beth answered. “I had so much time on my hands with the boys gone. I never knew a body could get so lonely.”

August offered a tender smile, and Beth quickly turned her face away to avoid feeling the impact of his clear eyes. “You boys, go wash your hands and we'll sit down to dinner.”