Snow Angel (10 page)

He began singing again, this time the song he had sung in the cabin when he'd first cooked for her. It did something to her, that song, just as it had before. Noah didn't understand the power behind a simple song, and yet he could feel himself singing it as he never had before. It was richer, fuller, quiet and yet bursting with feeling. It was more real than anything he was capable of, and he realized with a swelling in his heart that the song wasn't from him. It was from God; He was trying to reach her through music. He wanted to tell her how much He loved her.

Elizabeth's hands were resting on Noah's chest in small fists. At first there was no response, just the closed stiffness of
self-protection. Then slowly, against her will, she began to beat a fist against his solid chest.

“Tell me,” Noah said softly. “What is it, Elizabeth?”

She only shook her head, crying now.

It was as if he was a tiny boat being wildly tossed by the tempest of her emotions and she needed him to be strong and not allow the storm to overtake them. The depth of her suffering seeped into him, overwhelming in its intensity. He could feel the anger … the pain with its razor-edged guilt … the hopelessness. She was so alone inside herself.

“You're not alone,” he heard himself saying. “You're not alone anymore. You are well loved.”

The crying finally subsided into long, slow breaths. Wordlessly, Noah sank down on the makeshift bed, pulling her with him. He cradled her body, softly humming as he would to a child, stroking her hair. Gradually, he felt her relax into his body. The soft rise and fall of her breathing told him that she was asleep. He stayed like that for a long time, past the point that his muscles were screaming at him and his throat was raw from singing, past the point of wondering what had caused her so much pain. He just held her and accepted her suffering as his own. And now he knew for certain: He loved her. He would always love her. It was his place in life to love this woman. Finally, he eased her to the blankets and pulled them up to her shoulders. Abandoning his own bed, he sat down in the rocker, but he couldn't sleep.

The air seemed alive and the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he peered sharply into the darkness. He felt the need to stand guard over her, as if some great evil stalked about the room and only he could keep it from her.

* * *

Elizabeth, could you climb up and get me two tins of crackers, four cans of beans, and some Mertle's Tea, please?” Cara asked, one hand on her aching lower back.

Elizabeth smiled. “Only if you promise to sit down after this customer.” Whispering, she added, “You're looking swollen again.”

Cara nodded with obvious relief. The place was packed with men preparing for the mad rush to the Klondike, but Elizabeth could tell that Cara had had enough. With only two weeks to go, she was round as a melon and swelling around the feet and ankles. The doctor had been in to see her yesterday and warned her to take it easy.

Elizabeth brought the required items to the counter. She wrapped the bundle in brown paper, tying it with twine with practiced speed before turning it over to Cara. After taking the man's money, Cara slowly waddled to the back room and plopped down in the rocker. Waving to Elizabeth, she said, “I'll be looking at this new mail-order catalog, but if you need me, just call, OK?”

“We won't need you,” Elizabeth and Will said together. They exchanged glances and smiled at each other.

In truth they wouldn't. Elizabeth was a shopkeeper's dream come true, or so Will had said once in his gruff way over the last five months. In no time she had learned how to trade goods for the large variety of furs brought in, mostly by Indians, and the ever-present gold dust. She had even picked up a little of the Tlingit language, which she knew impressed Will more than he would let on. Praise from Will was rare, and Elizabeth couldn't help but relish it when it came. She tried so hard to please him. It had been easy to gain Cara's trust and friendship, but Will was cautious and had remained closed toward her for a long time. He was serious and uncommunicative most times, and even though she had gained ground with him, she knew he was still suspicious of her. She caught him watching her occasionally with a thoughtful frown.

He'd come to her rescue a few times too, though. Such as when some overzealous man made insinuations toward her, or the time an Indian had wanted to buy her. She'd been terrified for a moment that Will was actually going to trade her for some furs, but she found out later he just couldn't pass up the chance to tease her. Elizabeth supposed she should be happy that he cared enough to want to tease her, but still, every time that man had come in since, she ducked into the back room. Will just laughed at her and it had become a shared joke.

Glancing over, she saw Will talking with one of the dark-skinned Tlingit Indians. They were deep in negotiation over some thick furs. Elizabeth turned her attention to the man who just walked up to the counter.

“Can I help …”

The words died off as her voice froze in shock, her eyes locking with his.

The man gave her a slow, blinding smile showing his even, white teeth. He wore the same slicked-back, black hair and thin mustache. His dark eyes casually looked her over before he answered. “I'm sure you can,” his silky voice oozed.

Ross had found her. She gripped the edge of the counter as she struggled for control. Her heart was pounding as if it would burst from her chest, and the room was tilting sickeningly, but she was determined that he not know it. Lifting her chin she glared at him.

The man's smile seemed to melt into an evil leer. “You are looking better than ever, Miss
Smith
,” he drawled lazily. “That is your name now, isn't it?”

The wicked laugh that followed sent tremors through her spine.

“I can see you're surprised to see me. Didn't think I would come all this way for you, did you? Thought you were … safe?”

He threw back his head and laughed again, causing Will to look over in curiosity. With precise movements, Ross removed a white, perfectly folded square of paper from his pocket and slid it across the counter. Head down, he raised his eyes and looked secretly at her from under straight black brows. “Fill this order, exactly to the letter, and there won't be any trouble.”

The lurking grin was back as Elizabeth numbly took the paper and unfolded it with shaking hands. There were three ordinary items at the top and a neatly written sentence at the
bottom that said, “Meet me in the parlor of the Juneau City Hotel at eight o'clock tonight. If you fail to show, your new friends will soon know all about you.”

Elizabeth dropped the note onto the counter as if it had sprouted a head and hissed at her. She quickly turned away from him to gather the goods. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she reached up past a tin of shortbread cookies. What was she going to do? At the brink of hysteria, she knocked the tin off the shelf and spilled the contents on the floor. Will glanced at Elizabeth with a frown.

“I'm sorry,” she said to Will, keeping her head down so he couldn't read her eyes.

Will asked his customer to wait and leaned down to help Elizabeth pick up the cookies. Softly, he said, “Is this fellow giving you trouble?”

Elizabeth scooped up the remaining cookies, stood, and turned away to get another item. “No, no, I'm just clumsy today, that's all. Thank you, Will.”

Will looked sharply at the man and then back to Elizabeth. “If you say so.” He wasn't convinced and Elizabeth knew it, but she had to go on as if nothing was wrong. She had to get Ross out of the post.

Finally, she had the items wrapped. “That will be a dollar and thirty cents.” She kept her gaze on the package, her hands clasped behind her back, hiding her scarred wrists.

“What's the matter, honey, don't you want to introduce me to that friend of yours?” She wanted to tell him he wasn't worth a second of Will's time. She wanted to rail back at him, but she held her composure. When she neither answered nor looked up, he continued in a hiss, “You're not afraid of me, now are you?”

She lifted her face to his and allowed, for a second, the contempt she felt for him to blaze from her eyes. “One dollar and thirty cents, sir.”

He smirked at her, slid her the payment, picked up his package, and turned to leave.

Elizabeth took a deep breath as she watched his slim form step out the door and toward the street. She glanced over at Will, who was closely watching the scene, as was everyone else in the store by this time. Elizabeth took a shaky breath and turned her attention to the next man who was waiting to be helped. With a reassuring smile toward Will and then her new customer, she managed, “May I help you?”

The big, burly man Elizabeth recognized as a regular slapped a meaty hand on the counter. With a broad smile and a lighthearted wink, he said, “You surely can, Miss Smith.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the door. “Was that dandified version of a man troubling you?”

“Uh, no. Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“Well, if he does, you just find ol' Charlie here and me an' the boys will take care of him. You got me?”

Elizabeth gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you, Charlie, I've got you.” She glanced at Will and received his nod before going on to fill Charlie's order. Somehow she made it through the rest of the afternoon, but as soon as there was a lull in business, Elizabeth made her excuses and went up to her room.

God help her. What was she going to do now? She had never really thought he would find her. When he hadn't shown up immediately, she had lulled herself into a false sense of security. That he would come now, months later … she hadn't even
let herself consider it. Elizabeth paced the length of her tiny room, her arms crossed protectively in front of her stomach, unconsciously rubbing the scarred skin of her wrists.

But he had found her and, if possible, he would take her back to Seattle and the Dunnings. Or worse, she feared he may want to exact a more permanent form of revenge. She couldn't possibly meet him, but if she didn't he would go to Will, she had no doubts about that. She couldn't bear the thought of them knowing all she'd done. Will and Cara were her friends, her first real friends, and they meant more to her than she had realized until this moment.

There was one thing she was sure of: She had to delay Ross. She needed time to think and plan. Scrambling, she found a scrap of paper and scribbled a note:
I can't meet you tonight. Will
is leaving and Cara can't be left alone, with the baby so close. It would
be too suspicious. I can't vary my schedule after the scene this afternoon.
Give me two days. I go to Raleigh's Bakery on Friday mornings. I'll
be there by 10:00 a.m. We can talk then.

It was a lie that Will would be gone, but she couldn't think of anything else. It had to work. She had to buy some time to make her escape. Elizabeth took a coin out of her small horde of savings in the top drawer of her bureau. She knew a boy who would deliver the note to Ross. She would slip out and give it to him tonight.

Still clutching the drawstring bag that held her savings, she walked over to the bed, sank down, and clenched her eyes in concentration. There was really only one thing to do, get as far away from the likes of Ross Brandon as soon as possible. If he was determined enough to track her all the way to Alaska, his reasons had to be sinister. He might no longer care about
finding her for the Dunnings; he might be driven by revenge alone.

“It's time to run again,” she whispered aloud to the room.

Noah's face came to mind. He had visited her several times over the winter and early spring, taking her ice skating and sightseeing, dining at the restaurant, and introducing her to his friends like she was a treasure he had found. In the evenings, after dinner, Will and Cara would mysteriously disappear and leave them alone in front of the fire, making plans together for purchasing mining supplies and the best way to set up their camp in the spring. After a while, Elizabeth forgot that she was supposed to be pretending and found herself caught up in the excitement. But it wasn't gold she hungered for this time; it was time with him.

When he would reach for her hand and silently hold it, a new sensation threatened to engulf her, a feeling she couldn't remember ever having and didn't know how to identify until one day, right after Noah had left, Cara had remarked, “You seem to glow with peace after Noah has been here, Elizabeth.” Peace. She had never known peace before.

Noah made her feel other strange things too. One time a strong wind had swept through town during one of their walks and he had pulled her into his encompassing embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around her, bending his head so that even her head was covered and then turning so that the wind gusted against his broad back while she felt only his warmth. They had stayed like that until the wind grew slack and then walked on, laughing at such a wind, hand in hand, back to the trading posts. Warmer were the moments when he stared into her eyes and made her secretly wish he would kiss her again.

Strangely, he didn't make her frustrated with herself and the restless dreams he caused. He had made her feel like a part of his life—a part of him. And somewhere along the way she had fallen in love with him. She had started to believe that she might stay and mine his streams with him, that her past would stay safely buried thousands of miles away and that she would start over, be a better person with him and for him. She'd even begun to pray a little—not how she had always thought of prayer, formal and sterile, but talk to God the way Noah did, crying out to Him with her feelings and thoughts, believing He was real and cared about her.

She had let herself dream of a normal life. She should have known better. She would never deserve those things.

Taking a deep breath and wiping away the tears that were coursing down her cheeks, she straightened her spine. It would have grown tired and boring, such a simple life as they would have had. She was forgetting who she was, and it was time to wake up. She balled her hand into a fist thinking of the lost time. Prospecting parties had been stocking up at the trading post for weeks and, like a fool, she had always found an excuse why she couldn't join them. It was nearly May. She could have left by now,
should
have left by now, but she hadn't and that had been a terrible mistake. Now Ross had found her—and he'd brought the truth with him. The truth would never set her free.

Charlie McKay's lengthy list from earlier this afternoon came to her mind. Hadn't he mentioned he was readying a group to leave in the morning? Hadn't he said that if she needed anything to just call on him? What had she come to Alaska for, anyway? To work as a storekeeper? No, she had come to take on
the trail to riches—Dawson City in the great Yukon Territory of Canada.

She closed her eyes and imagined the gold, saw the nuggets, black on the outside but with gold showing through—the gold always showed through—calling to her, telling her it was her only salvation.

* * *