Snow Angel (8 page)

The view from the upstairs window of the trading post revealed a town draped in white, the streets showing through as long lines of brownish gray. Two women hurried by, skirts flapping around their legs, heads bent forward in the wind, hands clutching at bonnet strings. Juneau could have been any northern, snow-nestled town, except for its view. With the bay at one side and mountains surrounding them on the other three, Elizabeth had the feeling of being enclosed, protected, yet more island-living than inland.

The panes of the window rattled and made low whistling sounds as the wind forced its way through the cracks, gusting against the sides of the building, making Elizabeth glad for shelter, glad Noah had brought her here and that she wasn't wandering those cold streets looking for work. She pressed her forehead against the glass and breathed a sigh of relief. Will and Cara Collins had agreed to take her on as a shop girl. The trip back to Juneau had only taken about three hours with Noah's dogs and sled. She'd felt a little as though she was awakening from their own private world and back to reality. With it had
fear had come flooding back, though she insisted to herself that everything would be fine.

Will and Cara were everything Noah had said—kind and concerned for her and more than willing to give her a job. Cara had been eager to have another woman around, especially during her pregnancy. Will was slow, methodical, thoughtful … he might prove more difficult to handle, but he had not hesitated to trust Noah and take her on, only asking a few questions about her past work experience. There was no reason to fear they would find out about Ross, she reminded herself, pushing away from the window and the darkening view as night fell.

Turning from the twilight, Elizabeth slipped into her nightgown, borrowed at the insistence of Cara. She would have to go back to the saloon where she'd first heard about Noah and retrieve her trunk. The barkeep had allowed her to leave it in a storeroom so that she wouldn't have to lug it up the mountain. Inside was all she owned in the world—a work dress for mining, an everyday dress similar to what she'd been wearing when Noah had found her, and a good dress for Sunday. Aside from dresses and underclothes, she had a brush, some hair pins, stockings, a little wrist bag with some precious coins in it—all that was left from Ross's money—and a tiny chain necklace given to her by one of her friends from the orphanage when she'd left that place.

Elizabeth climbed into the bed, relishing the clean, crisp sheets, and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

It was pitch dark a few hours later when the howling wind woke her. She sat up, seeing nothing but the cloud of her breath. The room was cold, much too cold for a nursery, which was what Cara Collins had told her the room would
eventually be. She turned to her side and curled tighter into a ball with the coverlet over her head, shivering, trying to go back to sleep. Something would have to be done before a baby slept in here. She wouldn't recommend that anyone sleep in this room, including herself.

The minutes ticked by without success of anything save intense shivering. She drifted to sleep, only to be startled awake moments later feeling like she was in the blizzard again. Afraid of the nightmare, she decided she had to get out of the room. She braced herself for the cold and sat up, swinging her legs carefully over the edge to dangle to the frosty floor. Quickly she wrapped the lone blanket around her shoulders and grabbed the pillow, thinking to sleep downstairs by the fire. She winced as her bare feet touched the floor and hurried to the chair where her clothes were neatly stacked, scooped them up, and fled the room.

Quietly she crept down the stairs so as not to awaken anyone. If she could just get downstairs to the chair by the fireplace, she could get warm. She swerved toward it, her eyes on the promise of the glowing blaze, taking one step, then two … tiptoeing across the bare, wooden planks, a much warmer floor than her bedroom.

Suddenly she found herself face-first on the floor, a large object moving beneath her. She opened her mouth with a squeal, but the sound was muffled as a big hand clamped down over her mouth.

“Elizabeth?”

She sagged with relief at the sound of Noah's familiar voice and nodded in answer.

Noah quickly dropped his hand. “Elizabeth? What are you doing?”

Struggling to sit up amidst the tangled cloth of the nightgown, she finally faced him, just able to make out the sleepy features of his face.

“It was cold in the bedroom. I couldn't sleep,” she whispered. “I thought I would come down here by the fire.” Still sitting only inches away she scooted around to gather her strewn clothes and clutched them to her chest, her back to the low flames. “I didn't know you were sleeping here.”

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the light, Elizabeth could see that Noah was still trying to wake up. He ran his hands through his hair and yawned, then stood, wearing only his pants. She couldn't seem to look away as he walked to the room's huge fireplace and added some logs, stirring up the embers with the poker. Turning toward her, his eyes narrowed. “You didn't?”

“Of course not.”

“Where did you think I had gone?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I didn't know. I thought maybe you were staying at Jacko's … or the hotel. I was sent off to bed rather early, you know.”

“I always stay here when I'm in town.” He stirred up the fire and then turned suddenly back to her. “If you were coming down to sleep, why did you bring your clothes?” He lifted a heavily muscled arm to the mantle and leaned into it. “You weren't planning to leave, were you?”

“Why would I leave?” Elizabeth asked in confusion and anger. “I just thought it would be warmer to change into my clothes than stay in this thin nightgown.”

Noah dropped his arm and looked down at her. “I'm sorry. Guess I'm not thinking clearly.”

“I didn't want to wake everyone by making a fuss.” She shivered and stood up.

Noah came over to her, started to lift his hand to touch her cheek and then lowered it suddenly. Instead, he pulled a chair closer to the fire. “I'll go into the back room while you change. I'll make some coffee.”

Elizabeth could only nod as she turned to face the warm blaze. She sank a little inside thinking how distant he seemed. Will had been suspicious of her. They'd probably talked about her when she and Cara had gone upstairs. Will must have told him what Elizabeth knew all along—that she wasn't good enough for him. It was true. And better that he understood that now.

With a bracing breath she nodded. It was better this way. They should distance themselves. She would forget him. He would come in the spring to begin their partnership, and she would be gone, gone to the gold fields in Dawson City. He would hate her, and then he would want to forget her.

Hurriedly, she slipped out of the nightgown and pulled on her clothes. Once dressed, she moved closer to the fire and spread out her hands in front of the blaze. Feeling wretched about deceiving him, she gritted her teeth in determination. Closing her eyes again, she retraced her original plans in coming to Alaska. She had been scratching out a living when she'd first heard the rumors of an Alaskan gold find. She remembered that day in July when the
Portland
docked in Seattle. The newspapers claimed a ton of gold was aboard the ship, and Seattle had gone wild with excitement. It was the last golden opportunity, and she'd wanted desperately to be a part of it. The only problem was that she couldn't possibly scrape together
the cost of the ship's fare, which had skyrocketed overnight. No one would grubstake a woman. Her efforts to find a supporter had brought her only anger and embarrassment.

Then, as autumn crept in and the weather turned cooler, a young man had started showing an interest in her. Elizabeth knew how to discourage a man's unwanted attention; she'd been around men her whole life. But he seemed different. He was handsome and refined, with slick, black hair combed back from his forehead and a black, well-groomed mustache. Tall and lean, he dressed exquisitely. His manners were refined, and he treated her like a lady, something she had not experienced very much in her life. She was intrigued despite her misgivings. When he finally approached her, he was so polished and charming, like a cool, sweet breeze in the stagnate air of her world, and she found herself charmed despite her efforts to remain unaffected. Within a month he had gained her trust, and she confided in him her desire to go to Alaska.

Even now, she could hardly believe what his response had been.

A few days after telling him about Alaska, he made her an offer. They were standing outside of the doorway to her room after a lovely dinner, and then he took her hand and kissed the back of it. Looking deep into her eyes, he purred, “I may have thought of a way that you could earn your passage to Alaska, my dear.”

Interested, she asked softly, “How?”

He moved closer, brushing the legs of his trousers against her skirts. Carrying her hand up toward his face, he rubbed the back of it against his cheek. “If you would be willing to become
… say … my paramour … for a time, I could arrange everything for you.”

She stood there for a moment, not comprehending in her shock. As the numbness wore off, she jerked her hand away and then reared back and slapped him as hard as she could. “How dare you,” she said through gritted teeth. “Never would I do such a thing … never.”

His eyes took on a stealthy glitter as he held a hand to his face. With a mock bow, he assured her, “We shall see, my dear. Don't answer me now; you are obviously in some shock, not seeing this proposal coming. Mayhap you expected another, more honorable offer?”

He laughed and raised his eyebrows knowingly at Elizabeth's reddening face. “Poor thing, I can see that you did.” Turning suddenly viscous, he continued, “I would never marry a penniless girl who could only give me one thing. However, I'll be happy to pay for that one thing, and neither of us will have the worry of the other afterward. Give it time, dearie. I dare say you'll reconsider.”

As he turned to go, she cried out, “Never!”

He didn't even flinch, just kept walking down the street.

The next two days had been agonizing. The reality of her situation was that she had to do something. She wasn't making it on her meager seamstress's salary; rent was overdue and something had to be done or she would soon be joining the homeless on the beach, digging for clams. At first, the idea had been so repulsive that she wouldn't even consider it. But the long hours bent over her piecework gave her more than ample time to dwell on the matter. Gradually, her mind had broken it down
into acceptable pieces, rationalizing the result. She refused to let herself think as far as the name she could call herself afterward. She decided she wouldn't think of it at all.

She sent him a note and was ready for him when he arrived at her door, so smug and sure of himself. Nothing would have been more pleasant than to slam the door in his face, but she forced down her pride. He smiled knowingly and suddenly became like a hungry cat that had not had a meal in a very long while.

“Once,” she stated, staring him in the eyes with impassive eyes, “and you will pay my passage to Alaska.”

He raised his eyebrows and observed, “So you've come down from your pedestal but aren't prepared to stay there.”

“Take it or leave it.”

His smooth demeanor now sickened her, and she vaguely wondered what she ever saw in him. She'd always been so careful, and yet, here she was, caught in the net of her worst fear, believing in another person, believing someone could love her, and then finding it all to be a trap.

Another mock bow, his fingers brushing the tip of his hat, then he held out his arm. “I'll take it, of course.”

She stiffly took his arm. Walking the streets of Seattle, arm in arm, as if they were a happy couple, no one but her knowing the tight grip on her forearm, like a manacle, and she, a prisoner—no one but her hearing the pounding terror of her heartbeat, a lamb to the slaughter. And so they went, a picture of what they were not, to his room at one of the town's best hotels. Once inside, once the door was closed, she knew she couldn't go through with it. Starvation would be better than this bodily sacrifice.

She turned to him, panic stark in her face and in her voice. “I can't do it.”

His eyes mocked her. “Changed your mind? After all the back-breaking hours of work to find you, you think I'll just let you walk out of here?” He reached for her.

Elizabeth jerked her arm back from his hand and scrambled out of his reach. “You'll not touch me.” She made for the door.

“Oh, you don't think so? Allow me to explain the new rules.” With deadly calm he sidestepped her, blocking the exit. Grasping her shoulders, he pushed her back and onto the bed. “You can't leave. I have you here for more than the obvious reason. You see, my dear Elizabeth, I did not come upon you by chance as you surmised. I was hired. Hired to find you.”

“Who? Who would want to find me?” The question tumbled out before she could stop it.

He gave a crack of laughter and smirked at her. “Who indeed? For reasons unknown to me, your adoptive parents are searching for you. A seedier pair I haven't run into for some time, I'll admit.” He shrugged as though to himself. “But their gold was the real thing. They were most urgent to have you back in the”—he grinned humorlessly—“family fold.”

“No, it couldn't be.” She was talking more to herself than to him. Why would the Dunnings spend actual money to find her? She thought back to the dead miner and a cold chill crept its way up her spine. A thought—a hope-killing, despairing thought—clawed its way into her mind:
They had pinned
the blame on me for the miner's death. Did Ross know about that?
Scrambling from the bed, she backed away from where Ross was standing. With her back ramrod stiff and her chin up,
she looked at the man she had thought she cared for and felt newly sick. How could she have been so wrong? She had to hold it together long enough to get out of this hotel room. “I'm leaving now,” she stated with quiet determination.