The Great Alone (99 page)

“Maybe we could.” She flashed him a quick smile, then turned to face her mother.

Lisa was half afraid her mother wouldn’t even consider renting the house because of her suspicions about its landlady. But the very next day, she took her husband to see it. Within a week, they had moved into the house. And two weeks later, Lisa went to the local movie theater with Wylie Cole.

At the movie’s end, Wylie and Lisa left the theater through the lobby doors that funneled the crowd into the street outside. The crowd thinned quickly, scattering in all directions as Wylie guided her to his car parked at the end of the next block. The summer sun still claimed the evening sky, spreading its long, golden light over the town.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Lisa remarked.

“Yes.” After holding her hand through the entire movie, he missed the feel of its light grasp. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket so they wouldn’t feel so empty. Suddenly she laughed softly, then shook her head. “What’s the matter? Did I miss something funny?”

“No.” She sighed, then shook her head again. “I’m still amazed that you remembered me. That was a long time ago.”

“I don’t see why it’s all that surprising. The Matanuska project was big news around here for a couple of years there. Stories were always circulating about what was happening in Palmer. Since you were the only person I’d ever met from there, it was probably natural that I thought of you whenever people talked about it.” Then he grinned at her. “Besides, not many people have mistaken me for an Indian.”

“Erik and Rudy do have a way of making a lasting impression.” She smiled ruefully, then asked, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No. There’s just me.”

“It must have been kinda lonely for you.”

“I guess when I was a kid maybe it was.” Looking back, Wylie wondered if meeting Lisa with her two younger brothers, watching the way she looked after them, and observing their private squabbling weren’t some of the reasons she’d stayed in his mind all this time. “But now, for the most part, I like being by myself.”

“I think I know what you mean. I am almost convinced that being the only girl is the same as being an only child. Living on the farm the way we did, I really didn’t have anyone to talk to or play with. Our closest neighbors didn’t have any girls my age, and my mother … She isn’t exactly the kind you can confide in.”

“I always wondered whether you had a hard time of it.”

“I guess we did. The soil on our tract was too poor to grow much, so we kept dairy cows. My daddy worked really hard, but he just couldn’t make a go of it.”

“Are you sorry you came to Alaska five years ago?”

“No!” she shot back in quick denial, then paused. She had too much pride to admit to him that until they came to Alaska and moved into their newly built house on the farm, she’d never lived in a home where the roof didn’t leak or the wind didn’t blow through the cracks or the plaster didn’t fall off the walls. Life here had been a constant struggle, but at least they were better fed, better clothed, and better housed. “When we lived in Minnesota, that’s when we had the hard time of it.” They’d been so poor, with nothing but more days of poverty ahead of them.

“I think Alaska is a great land. Of course, I was born here, so naturally I’m prejudiced, but a lot of people from the outside can’t stand our long winters or the mosquitoes.”

“The winters are longer,” Lisa admitted. “But they aren’t nearly as cold as the ones in Minnesota. And the mosquitoes aren’t any worse than the black flies that swarm all over Minnesota in the summer.”

“You really like it here, don’t you?” Wylie stopped next to his Chevy.

“I really do.”

“I’m glad.” He opened the passenger door for her and waited until she was safely inside, then closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. He almost felt like whistling.

It was just a short drive to her house. All too soon, they were pulling up in front of it. Reluctantly Wylie walked her to the door, wishing there was some way to prolong this time with her.

As she turned to face him, her expression seemed to mirror his own feelings. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Wylie.”

“So did I. You don’t happen to have any plans for next Saturday night, do you?”

“No. None at all.” Her cheeks dimpled with her smile.

“Maybe we could take in another movie.”

“The previews looked good.”

“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, if that’s okay.”

“Fine.”

Wylie hesitated, wanting to kiss her good night even if it was only their first date, then cursed the lingering daylight that put them in full view of the whole neighborhood. But what the hell did he care what the neighbors thought. She stood there, looking at him, watching and waiting. He bent slightly and kissed her and felt the warm pressure of her response.

He straightened, breathing a little faster. “Six-thirty next Saturday?”

“Yes.”

They went out that next Saturday, and every Saturday after that for the rest of the summer and fall, plus a few evenings in between. Lisa was nervous the first time Wylie asked her to have Sunday dinner with his family. Although he’d never actually said that he was interested in establishing a more permanent relationship, meeting his parents seemed to be a possible step to something more serious. In view of that, Lisa was terribly anxious to make a good impression.

But it all seemed to go wrong the minute she arrived at his parents’ home. A January thaw followed by freezing temperatures had left icy patches on the front walk. As she stepped out of the car and started to the front door ahead of Wylie, she slipped on some ice and fell before Wylie could catch her. She tore a hole in the only pair of stockings she owned and skinned her leg. It was some entrance she made, hobbling into the house with blood running down her knee.

His mother and grandmother fussed over it, insisting the cut be washed, disinfected, and bandaged, when all Lisa wanted to do was pretend it had never happened. She was grateful when they all finally sat down at the dinner table and conversation turned to something other than her nasty fall.

“Did I tell you, Wylie, that when I was up in Fairbanks this last week, they had that new air base, Ladd Field, finished?” His father scooped potatoes onto his plate, then passed the bowl to Lisa. “That cement runway they built is supposed to have more concrete in it than we have in every street and sidewalk in Anchorage. They claim it’s so thick it won’t even buckle at sixty below.”

“They’ll have their chance to test it this winter,” Wylie replied.

“I heard one of those Army pilots from outside complain about the flying conditions up here.” His father chuckled. “He’s been ‘flying the beam’ for so long, he’s forgotten how to fly by the seat of his pants.”

“ ‘Flying the beam’ is pilot talk for navigating by directional radio beams,” his mother explained to Lisa. “A pilot can tune his radio to the transmitter located at a known airfield and fly to it.”

“You can count the number of transmitters in Alaska probably on the fingers of one hand,” Ace Cole added. “These Army pilots are finding out what it’s like to fly in the north. It gets so cold up here it’ll turn your oil into something that resembles Trudy’s raspberry jelly, hydraulic systems freeze, and rubber tires can get so brittle, they shatter like glass. That’s saying nothing about how quickly ice can accumulate on a plane’s wings. They’re really putting that test lab in Fairbanks to use, trying to adapt their bombers and fighters to these cold weather conditions. And air bases—I’ll bet the Army has a dozen fields under construction.”

“The shiploads of construction workers and soldiers that poured into Anchorage this last fall rival anything I ever saw in Nome,” Wylie’s grandmother stated. “They’re sleeping in tents, wanigans—just about anything that has four walls and a roof. Matty and I converted the parlor into more sleeping rooms, and we still have twenty people on the waiting list.”

“All I can say is it’s about time Congress woke up to the fact that Alaska needs some military installations. They poured more than four hundred and fifty million dollars into Hawaii, and it’s twenty-five hundred miles from the West Coast of the United States. Last spring, like Ernest Gruening said, a handful of enemy paratroopers could have captured Alaska overnight. Now it might take them a week.”

“At least something’s being done about it, Ace.” Mrs. Cole didn’t appear greatly concerned about her husband’s gloomy outlook.

“I suppose we should thank Stalin for that. If he hadn’t signed that pact with Hitler, Congress probably wouldn’t have done anything. Now they’re worried about all the military bases Russia has on the Siberian coast. One of them is only a hundred and fifty miles from Nome. I still say it’s Japan we have to worry about. I know General Buckner has ordered construction to go on around the clock to get all these defensive installations in. I just hope it isn’t too late.”

“Dad.” But Wylie glanced at Lisa as he spoke. “Why don’t we talk about something else? You’re making it sound as though we’re going to war at any minute.”

“We may be. We can’t bury our heads in the sand and pretend that what’s going on in Europe and the Pacific is not going to affect us—and soon.”

“The President has promised that the United States isn’t going to be drawn into another world war.” Glory dabbed at a corner of her mouth with a napkin.

“Japan and Germany made no such promises. Look at the supplies the U.S. is shipping to England now. How long do you think Hitler is going to let that continue?” Ace stabbed his fork into a piece of the moose roast. “As usual, everyone outside is looking across the Atlantic. That’s why they’ve forgotten about Alaska until this Russian scare came up. Those generals and congressmen in Washington, D.C., ought to be able to look at a world map and see that from Fairbanks it’s fifteen hours’ flying time for a bomber to Tokyo—or New York City. Fairbanks is only four thousand miles away from every major city in Europe, for God’s sake.”

“Ace, calm down,” Trudy Cole said patiently from her chair at the opposite end of the table, then smiled apologetically at Lisa. “You’re not only getting yourself all upset, but I’m afraid you’re also upsetting our guest with your war talk.”

“Lisa, I’m sorry.” He looked at her with something akin to surprise.

Again, she was the center of attention, the very last thing she wanted. “No, it’s all right, really.” She smiled nervously.

Truthfully much of what had been said, she hadn’t known about. At home, when her family discussed what was going on in Alaska, the talk usually centered on the number of high-paying jobs that were available, the way housing and food prices kept rising, the amount of money they were going to make, the things they could spend it on.

“Trudy, I think you’re wrong,” Wylie’s father stated. “Maybe it’s good for someone like Lisa to be alarmed by what I’ve said. After all, it’s the young people who will have to fight when the war comes. You and I are too old to do more than hold down the home front. But, Lisa and Wylie—”

“Dad,” Wylie interrupted him again. “You’re really making things difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because … I received a letter from Uncle Sam that said ‘Greetings.’ ” He paused, and a gasp from his mother filled the break. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you and decided this would be as good a time as any—with everyone here in one place—to let you know I’ve been drafted.”

Lisa couldn’t say anything. Her mind was suddenly filled with visions of him in uniform and his face in the newsreel films they showed at the movie theater depicting the war scenes in Europe.

“Wylie.” His mother had tears in her eyes, and his grandmother, seated next to him, reached over and lightly squeezed his hand.

“I knew it was coming.” His father was the only one who seemed to take the announcement in stride. “I was hoping you’d sign up for the Army Air Corps before you got drafted. With your flying experience, you still might be able to get in. They need good pilots.”

Wylie shook his head slowly. “Sorry, Dad, but if I’m going to do any fighting, I want my feet on the ground.”

“When do you have to leave?” his grandmother asked softly.

“Soon.”

“How soon?” His mother seemed to brace herself for his answer.

“This week.”

Lisa couldn’t talk at all. She just stared at him.

“Gracious.” His mother laughed suddenly, then stopped before it turned into a sob. Lisa understood. Half the reason she hadn’t said anything was because she was afraid if she tried she’d break into tears. “Do you know I think I left the pie in the oven?” Trudy declared and left the dining room almost at a run to disappear into the kitchen. Wylie laid his napkin beside his plate and started to rise, but his father motioned him back into his chair.

“I’ll go see if she’s burned the pie,” he said and got up from the table.

Later, after they’d all gone through the motions of finishing dinner, Lisa offered to help clear the table and wash the dishes. But the elder Glory Cole glanced once at Wylie’s mother, then gently suggested that it might be better if they did it by themselves and told Lisa to go into the living room with Wylie.

She couldn’t say a word to him as he led her to the big sofa. She felt brittle—as if the least little jar would shatter her into a thousand pieces. She sat down, trying to hold herself together.