Breaking the Ice (17 page)

Karla glanced at her watch. She’d been gone forty minutes and should probably think about starting back. She hoped Maggie cared enough to be concerned about her welfare, even if she wasn’t ready to embrace her as family.

The return trip was uneventful until she got within a quarter mile of the cabin. A high-pitched shriek, off in the trees to her left, shattered the quiet that had accompanied her entire journey. She’d never heard anything like it before, but was certain no human had made it. Suddenly uneasy, she hurried as fast as she could, her attention half on the uncertain ground in front of her and half on the woods, seeking any movement. By the time she reached the cabin she was winded.

Karla stepped onto the porch and leaned against the front rail to catch her breath, berating herself for panicking at the first unfamiliar sound. She was tempted not to say anything about it to Lars and Maggie, but she was too curious about what might have caused it not to.

The door opened behind her and Lars stepped out, his coat in his hand. He shrugged into it and joined her.

“How is she?” Karla asked.

“Doing okay, I guess, all things considered.” He stared out at the view. The snowfall had diminished to just a few intermittent flakes. “Her emotions have been all over the place anyway, and this yanked the rug right out from under her. She’s numb, confused, furious—at her parents, not you. That’s the big focus right now. How they could have lied to her about this. She’s in there reliving everything they ever told her, calling it all into question.”

“I certainly understand how that feels.”

“I bet. And that’s a good thing. Once she’s ready to talk to you about it, maybe your common ground will help her come to terms with it.” He faced her. “It may take a while, though. She’s got a lot to sort through.”

“I spent a good two weeks locked up in my apartment after Mom died because I didn’t want to talk to anybody, so I totally relate. And even after all this time, I’m still in kind of a fog, not knowing how to process everything that’s happened. Part of my reason for coming here was just to get as far away as I could from everything that constantly reminded me how much my life had suddenly changed. I was hoping distance could give me some perspective.”

“Has it?”

“Time will tell. I’ve been so preoccupied with meeting Maggie, I haven’t thought of much else.” That wasn’t entirely true. The last several hours, anyway, thoughts of Bryson had begun to compete for her attention, but they were largely out of her control. And if anything, they were only adding to her confusion. “I suppose it’s too early to ask what Maggie thinks of having me as a sister.”

He gave her an apologetic half smile.

The snow had stopped now, and the clouds were thinning enough to let some sunshine through. The thermometer had risen to thirty-three degrees. “Do you think I should make myself scarce? I was thinking about your suggestion to ask Bryson to show me around. Looks like it might turn out to be a nice day after all.”

“Maybe not a bad idea. I can call her and see what she’s got planned.” Lars’s gaze followed her tracks down to the river. “So your walk made you want to see some more of our little corner of paradise?”

“For sure.” And more of Bryson. “Oh…I was meaning to ask you a couple of things.” She pointed to the now-faint impressions that led from the corner of the outbuilding and paralleled her footprints. “I was following some tracks. They looked like cat paw prints, but were bigger than any I’ve ever seen. About like this.” She held up her hand and approximated the distance between her thumb and fingers.

“Probably lynx. We have one that comes through now and then, checking out our woodpile for mice, though we’ve never seen it. Their paws kind of spread out, to act almost like little snowshoes to keep them from sinking in the snow.”

“A lynx?” She vaguely knew what one looked like, but had no idea how big they could get. Cougar sized? “Are they dangerous?”

“Not to people. They’re very shy and solitary. Generally they go for things like snowshoe hares, birds, fish. Although now and then they can take a young Dall sheep or caribou, if smaller prey is scarce.”

“I heard this really weird noise coming from over there.” She pointed. “It was an animal, I think. Kind of a shriek, kind of a scream. Eerie.”

“Hmmm. Porcupine, maybe. It’s their mating season. Or could have been a raven. They make all sorts of oddball sounds.”

A bird or a porcupine, and she’d let it scare the shit out of her. She felt foolish. She had a lot to learn about Alaska and the wilderness, apparently. And a ready teacher was available. “Shall we call Bryson?”

*

The bath wasn’t the long, luxurious soak Karla was used to, but considering the locale, she was grateful for the opportunity to warm up from her walk in a real old-fashioned tub that allowed her to immerse herself completely. Although in terms of bathroom conveniences the Rasmussens had only the traditional outhouse and honeypot—an indoor bucket with seat used in extremely cold weather and emptied frequently—they had the luxury of running water and a bathtub, set up in a small room accessed through the door at the rear of the cabin. Of course the water from the tap was always frigid, since it was piped directly from the river bottom, but it didn’t take long to boil enough on the stove to make things comfortable.

Though Maggie wasn’t apparently ready to talk to her, Karla had been encouraged to see her going through the photo album. And Maggie had at least said “Good morning” as Lars and she came back inside.
Give her time.

Spending the day with Bryson would be a welcome distraction from her apprehensions about Maggie’s reaction to her news. Her whole Alaskan experience so far had been surreal. To be expected, she supposed, with her emotions all over the place and her surroundings so alien. But most bizarre was the turnaround in her perception of Bryson Faulkner.

Bryson had taken the brunt of the frustration, fatigue, anger, sadness, and grief that had transformed her into some bitch cousin of herself. She replayed in her mind how she’d acted at the Bettles Air gate. No wonder Bryson had been reluctant to take her on as a passenger. She owed that blond gate attendant an apology, too.

She wanted to kick herself because she didn’t usually make snap judgments about people. Her appraisal of Bryson as an ass had been incredibly unfair and irrational. Fortunately, she seemed the forgiving type. And the hours ahead would give Karla the opportunity to try to make amends and give Bryson a better impression of who she really was.

Like Bryson, Alaska was really growing on her, much to her surprise and despite the frigid weather, the white-knuckled flying, and the lack of some of the modern conveniences she’d always considered essential. She didn’t miss her television or the Internet when there was such a feast for the eyes everywhere she looked. Now she had an idea how humbled the early explorers must have felt at seeing the vast, pristine wilderness of an unexplored and largely uninhabited land. She couldn’t wait to see more of it, especially in Bryson’s company.

Abby would have hated all of this. She didn’t appreciate a beautiful sunset or a simple walk in the park. She’d bitched when the power went out for more than a few minutes or when the satellite reception pixilated because of storms moving through. They had chosen their apartment partially because Abby insisted there be several good restaurants in the area that delivered. And the one time Karla suggested they spend their vacation at a lodge in Yosemite, Abby thought she was kidding.
Are you crazy? What would we do all day? Fight off mosquitoes and stare at trees?
I say Vegas or New York. San Francisco. Somewhere with some nightlife and great places to shop.

Perhaps being here
was
helping her put some things into perspective. Why had she always acceded to Abby’s desires, often at the expense of her own wishes and dreams? Abby had been so strong-willed she’d been afraid if she didn’t give in, Abby would find someone who would. And Abby had left her anyway. She felt like a fool.

Karla lingered until the water turned lukewarm, then hurriedly toweled off and dressed. The louvers in the door allowed some of the heat from the woodstove to penetrate the inner room, but it was several degrees colder here than in the main living space.

Maggie was still in bed leafing through the photo album when she emerged from her bath. Lars, in the kitchen brewing tea, turned Karla’s way and beckoned her with a tilt of his head. “Finally reached Bryson. She’s got no plans today and will be happy to take you out and show you around. I’ll run you over in the skiff whenever you’re ready.”

“Great. I’ll take a mug of that and then I’m good to go.” She glanced over at Maggie as Lars poured her tea and whispered, “Has she said anything more?”

“She sees the resemblances you pointed out between her and your mother. I think it’s made it all more real. Here, why don’t you take hers over to her?” Lars handed her a second mug.

When she set the chamomile tea down on the nightstand beside the bed, Maggie looked up at her. Her eyes were swollen and red, but she’d dried her tears, and she was contemplating Karla intently in a way she hadn’t before, curious and…hopeful? Karla’s spirits lifted as she stood patiently waiting under the long scrutiny.

“Sit,” Maggie finally said, patting the bed beside her. Karla settled carefully onto the edge within arm’s reach and put her mug beside Maggie’s.

They studied each other without speaking for several seconds.

“So…sisters, huh?” Maggie said finally, smiling tentatively.

She smiled back. “Yeah. Still sinking in?”

Maggie nodded. “I always wanted a sister.”

“Me, too. So much I invented an imaginary one when I was little. Her name was Emily.”

“Did you tell your parents about her?”

“Oh, yeah. They used to set a place for her at the table and pretend to tuck her in next to me at night.”

Maggie let a long pause elapse as she seemed to mull that revelation over. “So it must have been especially tough on you to find out all these years later you’ve had one all along.”

“I imagine it’s pretty much the same as you’re feeling. Both our parents lied to us. About things we had a right to know. And I get the impression you didn’t think it possible of yours, any more than I did of mine.”

“No.”

“They’ve both passed away?”

“Yes. My father was a logger. He was killed in an accident on the job not long after Lars and I married. My mother…” Maggie looked away. Karla knew she’d never view that word again quite the same. “My mother had ovarian cancer. She died four years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

When Maggie’s eyes met hers again, they were moist with tears, but full of compassion. “Those first few weeks after the funeral were so tough to get through. I imagine you’re still feeling like you’re on an emotional roller coaster.”

“Good way to describe it. The smallest things set me off. A piece of music or picture of someplace we went on vacation. The scent of patchouli. It all comes rushing up and just overwhelms me.”

“I know it’s a cliché, but time does help,” Maggie said. “God knows I still think of them both often and miss them terribly, but with not the same kind of raw ache and terrible emptiness I felt in the months right after.”

“I’m sorry you’ll never get the chance to meet Mom. Not that I’m excusing what she did. But she was a wonderful woman with a big heart. Smart, and with a wicked sense of humor.”

Maggie glanced down at the photo album, which was open to a snapshot of their mother taken when she was in her early forties, just before she’d started showing signs that something was wrong. She was holding a camera up near her face, evidently about to take a picture, but someone had snapped a photo of her instead. She was looking sideways at the photographer with an annoyed but endearing scowl, an expression that said
Oh, don’t take that!
“She apparently had her reasons for doing what she did.” Karla detected an unmistakable note of bitterness in her voice.

She didn’t know how to respond, so she reached for her tea and sipped it, and Maggie did the same.

“I’m so
angry
at all of them,” Maggie volunteered. “My parents, and yours.” She ran a hand protectively over her swollen belly. “A part of me realizes they were all acting in what they thought were my best interests, at least in terms of the adoption. But the
deception
afterward
.
The hypocrisy. That’ll take a while to accept.”

“I certainly understand, I think. If there’s anything I can do—”

Maggie put her hand over Karla’s. “You came all the way here to tell me this. To meet me and get to know me. That’s so much.”

“You make me sound unselfish. But I assure you I’m not. I have no family but you now, Maggie.”

Maggie smiled broadly for the first time that day, her smile so much like their mother’s that Karla’s heart ached. “That’s not true. Now you have Lars, too. And very soon, a niece.” She opened her arms, and Karla slipped into her embrace. They hugged each other tight. “We’ve lost too many years already,” Maggie whispered in her ear. “Let’s not waste any more, sis.”

*

Two hours passed in a flash. Karla climbed up onto the bed beside Maggie and went through the photos with her, telling her stories about when and where they were taken, interspersed with other memories of her childhood. They laughed as much as they cried, until finally Lars interrupted them.