Brides of Alaska (51 page)

“Not then,” answered Rita.

“But what about now?”

“Now I realize I've been living on fear most all of my life. It's become such a part of my nature to distrust that I never saw the way it controlled me.” Rita paused and looked thoughtfully at the cup in her hand before setting it aside.

“It's easy for other things to control us,” Mark assured. “Things creep in that way and, before we realize it, we've become their victims. God's control isn't that way. He wants us to recognize Him as the controller. He wants us to see that He's in charge and find comfort in that fact.”

Rita nodded. “I suppose I can see that now, but I've always been so independent.” Outside, the wind picked up and moaned through the trees. “Even now, I'm skeptical. Not of God,” she added at the look of bewilderment on Mark's face. “I'm skeptical that I can hand over the reins to my life and trust God to lead me.”

“Do you want that, Rita?” Mark's question pierced Rita's heart.

From somewhere in Rita's memory, she began to quote Philippians 3:10–11. “‘I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and theparticipation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.'”

“Truly, Rita? Do you want to accept Christ as your Savior?”

Rita hesitated only a moment. She didn't want to commit to God out of a sense of fear, yet wasn't she supposed to fear hell and eternal damnation? “I want to know about the love,” she whispered, with tears falling freely from her eyes. “I know about the fear and the pain of rejection, but I want to know about the love.”

Mark's heart nearly broke for her. She was so vulnerable and childlike that he moved from his spot and put his arms around her. “God is love, Rita. I know you're familiar with that verse if you can quote Philippians.”

Rita nodded and tried to wipe away her tears. “I think it's the first verse I memorized as a small girl.”

“It's true,” Mark continued. “God is love and He demonstrated His love for us in sending Christ to take our punishment. He doesn't want you to come only out of fear; after all, the Israelites feared Him long before He sent Christ to them. He wanted to draw His people to Him, to show them His merciful love and eternal devotion. God loves His children, Rita. He loves you and He wants you to love Him.”

“I do,” Rita sobbed. “I always have, but my pride made me fear it. I just didn't want to get hurt again.” She cried freely, unashamed of the tears.

Mark held her in silence until she was spent. When Rita finally lifted her face, her eyes were gentler than Mark had ever known them.

“Are you and God at peace now, Rita?”

“Yes,” Rita replied. “I know Jesus says that He's the only way to come to God. I know the Bible well, I've just never lived by it. I've asked God to forgive me, Mark, but I don't believe for one minute that life will all of a sudden be wonderful and perfect. I've a great deal of my past to put right.”

“What past?” Mark asked with a grin. “You're a new creation in Christ, right? You've sought forgiveness for all those sins and the Bible says God remembers them no more.”

“Yes, but people aren't God and people remember them,” Rita countered.

“People aren't responsible for your salvation, Rita.” Mark drove his point home. “God is the one you answer to. God is the one who will clear the way for you to mend fences with others. Trust Him, Rita. He can handle the job.”

Rita put her head upon Mark's shoulder, enjoying the comfort of another. “I know you're right, but I'm still afraid.”

“There's a verse in Psalm 56 just for you. It says, ‘When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.' Trust doesn't come easy for you, Rita. I know that. But you can believe in this. You can trust God.”

Rita lifted her head, remaining silent. Her dark eyes looked up into Mark's. She basked in the hope that Mark's encouragement would prove true. Trust was not an easy thing for Rita Eriksson. But trust in God was a start, and Rita was eager to take that first wobbly step forward.

T
he next day dawned bright and clear with frosty, cold temperatures that left a filigree of ice upon the tent walls. Rita found herself no worse for her experience and began the day by going outside and joining Mark in a hesitant prayer. After that, when the silence threatened to unnerve her, Rita fell back to her defensive nature.

“Shouldn't we be pushing on for Iditarod?” she questioned as she began to repack her sled.

“Definitely. We've lost a lot of time, and since the weather has cleared, the others will no doubt have already passed us,” Mark replied, acting as though it wasn't a big deal.

Rita's face fell. “I wanted to be the first to Iditarod. I wanted to give Dad the ingots.”

“They wouldn't mean much to him,” Mark replied. “He'd rather know that you enjoyed yourself and that you managed to stay alive and well.”

“How would you know?” Rita retorted. “I know it meant a great deal to Dad to have won those ingots.”

“Then you really don't know him very well at all,” Mark spoke behind steamy breath.

“What's that supposed to mean? He is
my
father,” Rita said.

“The money, prizes, and laurels were never what drove your father to race the Iditarod,” Mark began. “As a young man he traveled these trails in order to deliver the mail. He raced because he needed to prove to himself that he could do it one last time. He needed to taste the ice with each breath, to hear the silence of the interior, and feel the dogs working beneath his hands. The ingots never meant to him what they obviously mean to you.”

Rita felt a rage building inside her. How dare Mark tell her what her father felt or who he was. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. What could she say that would make any sense? It wasn't easy to refute the truth. Mark was right, and that's what bothered her most. She walked away to consider his words, still feeling his eyes burning holes through her facade.

Retracing their way back to the trail proved easier than either one had imagined. Rita was surprised to learn that she'd been only a matter of miles from Iditarod. Somehow, through the blizzard and all of the trials that had plagued her way, Rita had still managed to keep the team going in the right direction.

“That's some nose,” Mark teased as they made their way to the checkpoint officials. “You wandered around, blind in a snowstorm for three days, and still managed to put yourself in a decent position to regain the lost time.”

Rita said nothing as people pressed in around her.

“We'd just about given up hope of finding you,” one man remarked behind a fur-trimmed parka. “Are you injured?”

“No,” Rita answered. “A little frostbite on my face, but nothing serious.”

“I guess that's pretty typical,” the man laughed. “I've heard more than one racer talk about his or her new Iditarod skin. Losing frostbitten skin off your face is pretty routine, and the skin beneath is baby soft.”

Rita smiled and waited for the officials to check her dogs over. She'd lost track of Mark, and it wasn't until she overheard a comment by the man who'd first spoken to her that Rita realized something was wrong.

“I'm sorry,” she said, placing a hand on the man's parka, “I couldn't help overhear your comment that Mark Williams is in some kind of trouble.”

The man turned and pushed back his parka enough to reveal a weather-lined face with a graying beard. “He disqualified himself coming out after you. He disobeyed the official's direct order to stay in Ophir after a freeze was put on the race.”

“But he only left to come after me. What about the Good Samaritan Rule? It wasn't that he was trying to get ahead in the race. No doubt there are plenty of racers who've moved out ahead of us. Mark isn't a threat to anyone's victory,” Rita protested.

“I'm just working here,” the man said and threw up his hands. “But as I understand it, the problem isn't that he helped you so much as he disregarded a direct order. The real decision has to come from a three-member panel of the race officials. They're appointed by the Iditarod Race Marshall and they have to reach a unanimous decision.”

“Then I need to get word to them,” Rita said, suddenly fearing that Mark would have come all this way, only to be disqualified by an unselfish act of concern for her.

“I'm not sure what to tell you,” the man replied. “You'd probably better talk to the man in charge. He's over there in the blue coveralls.”

“Thank you.” Rita saw to her dogs, then went in search of the race official.

Although Rita had fully intended to push right out of Iditarod and head for Shageluk on the Innoko River, she found herself unable to continue until she learned of Mark's fate.

She'd explained everything she could to the official and pleaded Mark's case in every way she could conceive. The man had been sympathetic and considerate of her testimony and promised that the officials would take everything into consideration. The answer would be radioed to them within a matter of minutes.

“I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you, Mark.” Rita's sincerity was evident as she took a seat beside her father's partner.

“I would do it all again,” Mark said in a peaceful way that eluded Rita.

“Aren't you angry?”

“No,” Mark said with a shake of his head. “Why should I be?” He looked up from where he'd been mending a harness. Mark was never one for wasting a single minute. “Anger wouldn't change a thing and would only ruin this beautiful day.”

“I've possibly cost you the race. They may not let you finish the Iditarod. Doesn't that mean anything? After all, that's why we're here,” Rita argued.

“I would debate that,” Mark said matter-of-factly. “God has many purposes for us in life. I believe it's entirely possible that the only reason I raced this year was in order to be there for you. God knew you'd need help, both physically and spiritually. If He used me for that purpose, then I'm content.”

“You mean to tell me,” Rita began, “that you wouldn't be the least bit disappointed if they disqualified you here and now?”

“Of course I'd be disappointed,” Mark replied. “I planned for this race all year, just like you did. I'm just saying that the race isn't everything. I made the decision, knowing full well what the possible consequences could be. You nearly lost your life out there, Rita. Is life so unimportant to you that you wouldn't risk being disqualified from the Iditarod if it meant that you could save someone from dying?”

Rita swallowed hard. She'd always put herself first, and now she couldn't honestly say whether she would have given up her lead, even the race, to help someone else out of their own foolishness. Suddenly, Rita felt repulsed at the image she had of herself. Would she really have let someone die?

Mark sensed the inner struggle in Rita. His sympathy for her was evident. “You've had a hard time of it, Rita. Nevertheless, I don't doubt for one minute that you would not only risk disqualification of the race, but that you'd risk your very life in order to save another. You aren't the vicious, heartless person you believe yourself to be.”

“I don't know about that,” Rita admitted. “You may know my father well, but you don't know me.”

Mark smiled in a way that caused Rita's heart to race. “I think I know you better than you imagine.”

“Just because you rescued me doesn't mean you know everything about me.” Rita's words were strangely soft-spoken.

“I wouldn't pretend to know everything about you, Miss Eriksson,” Mark said with a chuckle. “I just propose to have more insight than you give me credit for.”

“Williams!” the race official's voice rang out. He crossed the distance with long, quick strides. “The panel has cleared you to continue. You haven't been disqualified!”

The small crowd that had waited to hear the announcement gave up a cheer, while Mark and Rita embraced without thinking.

“I'm so glad!” Rita nearly squealed. Mark wrapped his arms around her, lifting her into the air and twirling her around.

“Me, too!” he replied then placed a kiss firmly upon Rita's lips.

Rita found herself returning Mark's kiss before her mind could offer up any protest. She lingered in his arms while the people around them offered congratulatory praises and encouraging words. When the revelry died down, Rita's senses seemed to return. She became very aware of Mark's firm hold and dropped her arms.

Raising her eyes slowly, she found Mark's laughing eyes and smug expression. “I told you I knew you better than you think.”

Rita felt her face turn hot in spite of the subzero temperatures. She pushed away from Mark, stammering for something to say, but words escaped her.