Under Alaskan Skies (10 page)

“It’s not often we have a stranger in town,” Merry said, pouring hot coffee into their cups. “I hope you get a chance to see something of this region before you go.”

“Carrie has offered to take me out in her boat this afternoon,” Matt said.

Merry nodded approvingly. “She knows the area like no one else.”

Except for Maggie
, Carrie thought. But she didn’t say it.

On their way out they ran into Jack, Merry’s husband, just back from a fishing trip.

“This is the doctor who’s taking care of Donny,” Merry explained.

“You missed a great lunch,” Carrie told him.

Jack shook Matt’s hand and told him how glad they were he’d come to Mystic to see their boy. Then he opened his cooler and showed them his catch—cod, snapper and salmon. He asked if Carrie wanted any, but she said her freezer was full and thanked him anyway.

“You’re right,” Matt said as they rode to her house, “this must be the friendliest town in Alaska, if not the whole country. I can’t believe how you all look after each other. That is a rare thing. No wonder you stay here. I’m not used to being treated like a celebrity. I haven’t performed any miracles. You’re the one who should be getting all the attention. You’re the one who went after help. You talked me into coming and then you flew me here.”

She shook her head. “It didn’t take much talking before you volunteered. How many doctors would have interrupted their vacation to fly off into the bush? You didn’t know me. You had no idea if I was on the level or not. To say nothing of my flying ability. You took a chance coming out here,” she said. Her eyes glowed with honest admiration, which he didn’t feel he really deserved.

Matt felt embarrassed to be the recipient of all this attention. Of course he was glad to do what he could for Donny and anyone else he could help. He was
especially glad to have a chance to try to prevent further spinal-cord injuries. But to be treated like a celebrity made him uncomfortable.

On the other hand he didn’t object to being the object of Carrie’s admiration whether he deserved it or not. He basked in her approval. It made him feel like the superhero he was not. It made him feel as if he could do anything. Anything except make love to her. That would be wrong. It wasn’t what she wanted.

It was what he wanted. He’d wanted it ever since he’d first seen her on the dock, was it only yesterday? It seemed like a lifetime away. Since then he’d been drawn into her life. He’d slept under her roof, he’d worn her father’s clothes and he’d eaten her food. And he’d kissed her. He wanted to kiss her now. He wanted to pull off the road so he could put his arms around her, drag her across the seat and devour her.

He slanted his gaze in her direction, studying her profile, the tendrils of red-gold hair that brushed her cheek and the curve of her chin. His fingers itched to cup her face between his hands and kiss her eyelids, her temples, the tender places behind her ears. He wanted to hear her moan, to murmur his name. He wanted…

“What?” she said, turning to meet his gaze. He wondered if he’d spoken aloud or had she just intercepted his thoughts. He wouldn’t be surprised. He half wanted her to know how he felt.

But he wasn’t ready to say anything now. He shook his head. He knew he hadn’t said anything. He looked at her again. Had she read his thoughts? Was he that transparent? Did she really know how he felt? Had she felt the heat of his pent-up passion? Had she felt
the vibrations in the air? She may have, because she blushed slightly and turned her attention to the road ahead of her.

“We’ll stop by the house and pick up some gear, then drive to the dock and get the boat,” Carrie said. “If you’re still interested in seeing the islands.”

He was. He was interested in seeing every part of her world and meeting everyone in her world. “I’m going to get my camera,” he said.

Her boat was docked at the pier in town. It was a small wooden launch with room for four or maybe six passengers in the cabin. He pushed off and jumped in after she’d started the engine. They passed fishing boats coming in with their catches. Everyone yelled back and forth, exchanging news and greetings.

“You know everyone,” he said, joining her in the cabin.

“Of course,” she said. “So will you in a few days.”

“A few days?” he asked. “How much longer do you really think I’ll be here?” He had mixed feelings about staying there. On one hand, he knew his parents were missing him. They’d planned this cruise so they could all be together before he started his arduous internship. On the other hand, being here was the experience of a lifetime. Then there was Carrie….

“I don’t know.” She looked out the Plexiglas window, studying the sky. “There’s at least a hundred-foot ceiling of cloud cover hanging over us. I could be wrong, but this kind of cloud bank usually stays around awhile. Oh, not forever. But it looks pretty dense. I’m really sorry, Matt,” she said, putting her hand lightly on his arm. “I know what you’re giving
up. I feel terrible about keeping you from your vacation.”

“My vacation? This is the best vacation I could imagine. Everyone on that ship would give anything for an opportunity like this. Seeing the inside passage of Alaska with an insider. I’ve never had such a good time.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Really.” Impulsively he leaned toward her and kissed her on the mouth. He tasted coffee and something so sweet he didn’t know what to call it. It was the essence of Carrie. He was sorely tempted to coax a kiss out of her, only, he knew once he started, he wouldn’t want to stop. Want to? Hell, he wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t know what had happened to him. He used to be the most self-controlled person in the world. He’d given up every distraction for as long as he could remember to focus on medicine. Suddenly he was giving in to impulses and desires he thought he’d buried long ago. It was intoxicating. It made him feel as if a fifty-pound load had been removed from his shoulders.

But now was not the time to give in to any further impulses. He was going sight-seeing. He called on some of that almost-forgotten discipline. With every bit of strength he could muster he broke away, before he got carried away and did what he wanted to do. He broke away just in time to hear her sigh softly. A sigh of regret? A sigh of longing? Good Lord, what would happen if he was here for many more days? How strong was he? How much temptation could he stand before he caved in? What did she think would happen? What did she want to happen?

To have something else to do, he took out his camera and started taking pictures. Anything to keep his mind off his conflict. He took pictures of the gray-green water of the sound and the spruce trees growing on the banks right down to the water’s edge. He took pictures of every bird he could see, whether they were falcons or hawks or maybe even eagles. It didn’t matter as long as he captured them on film. He took pictures to keep his hands from reaching for her. But he couldn’t stop looking at her.

“What are you doing?” she asked as he turned the camera on her.

“Taking pictures of you.”

She ran her hand through her hair. “You should have told me. I look a wreck.”

“You look beautiful,” he said. He meant it.

She grinned. She didn’t believe him, but she accepted the compliment anyway. “Want to steer?” she asked.

“Sure.” He traded places with her.

“Just stay within the markers,” she said. “We’re heading east around the next bend.” She picked up his camera and focused it on him. “How do you like being the subject?” she asked.

“Fine with me,” he said. “I know what you want. A picture of me to remember me by. Don’t worry, I’ll send you copies.”

“You think I’ll need a picture to remember you?”

He turned to face her, his hands on the steering wheel. He didn’t want her to forget him. He didn’t want her to need a picture. He wanted her to think about him as often as he was sure he was going to think about her. He didn’t want to be the only one to
look back on this big adventure in his life and remember what it was like to feel this heightened awareness of everything and everybody. This feeling that every minute was precious. The air was charged with so much electricity he expected a spontaneous explosion to occur any minute.

He’d never felt so close to another person. So close he felt as if he’d known her all his life. And yet he didn’t know her at all. Not yet.

“I don’t know,” he said soberly. “I know I’ll never forget you. Never forget this time we’ve spent together. For me, every minute is precious. Every bird, every tree is different from anything I’ve seen before. Those mountains in the distance, the water, the town—” he took a deep breath and went on even though he might be sorry later “—and you, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

She didn’t answer. She bit her lip and turned to look out the window. He didn’t know if he’d offended her or not. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut.

“I haven’t met many future plastic surgeons, either,” she said. “So we’re even.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” he said. “And I think you know it.”

“All right, plastic surgeon or tree surgeon, you’re different from anyone I’ve ever met,” she admitted. “And I won’t forget you, either.”

Chapter Five

Matt was touched by Carrie’s words. More than touched, he was warmed. Clear down to the toes in his boots. He didn’t say anything. He just let the words hang in the air—
I won’t forget you, either
—until he handed over the controls to Carrie in midstream before they got to the island. He stood outside on the deck and watched admiringly as she expertly edged the launch up to the side of an old wooden dock. Then he jumped out and wrapped the rope around a post. He held out his hand to grab her as she jumped down to the rickety dock. There were boards missing so he opened his arms to catch her just in case. It wasn’t a rational decision to put his arms around her and hug her tightly, it just happened. They both let go at the same time, as if they’d shared the same thought, the same warning. Be careful. Not just of rotten boards, but of passion out of control. Keep your distance. This was happening too fast. Much too fast.

“This is it,” she said, with a wide gesture as they stepped off the dock onto the muddy ground. “St. Elias Island, or as the natives called it, Yukatak Island.
There’s not much left except the church. But that’s worth the trip all by itself. At least I think so.”

Carrie led the way down a narrow winding path overgrown with brambles that tore at their clothes as they walked single file toward the church. The crows overhead screamed at them as if to warn the forest creatures of their arrival. Once she reached back with her hand and he took it. He loved the way she walked, with a confident spring in her step. He loved the way her hair brushed her shoulders, a bright flame of color in the gray misty air. He loved the way her hips swayed in her brown corduroy slacks. Was there anything about her he didn’t love?

They walked that way, single file, but hand in hand until they reached the clearing where the remains of the church stood. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the four standing walls made of logs. The roof had fallen in, but the rotten roof beams were still there, resting against the walls as if a giant had been playing with his toy house and had suddenly abandoned it for something more interesting.

“This is amazing,” he said.

She nodded, smiling, pleased at his approval. “Wait till you see the inside.”

Though the roof was gone and whitewashed walls were cracked and gray, he still knew he was in a church. A hush had fallen over the forest. Even the birds were quiet. There were pictures painted on the walls, faded, but still beautiful, one of a Madonna, others of various saints whose names he didn’t know.

Carrie didn’t say anything. She hoped he’d appreciate it as much as she did, but that was asking a lot. This had always been her special spot. Not just hers,
of course. Others came here. Maggie came here. But as president of the historical society of Mystic, it held a special spot in her heart.

She’d never brought anyone here before, not even her fiancé. She stood back and let Matt discover the church by himself. He walked around and exclaimed at the candle stubs in metal holders and at the altar made of old fir. She wondered if he could picture an old Russian priest standing there, ringing the bell, giving communion from a brass cup to a ragtag collection of Russian fur traders and Native Americans.

“Is it ever used anymore?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. But at one time both native people and Russians worshipped here together.”

Matt examined an intricately carved wooden cabinet inlaid with mother-of-pearl that stood in the corner. He tried the door, but it was locked.

“Too bad it won’t open,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to know what’s inside.”

“Shall I try?” he asked.

She nodded.

He took his Swiss Army knife from his pocket and after gently working at the lock for a few minutes, it sprung open. She drew a quick breath of surprise. Then she reached in and brought out an old Russian Bible written in Cyrillic. They both stood staring at the gold writing on the black leather cover, then very carefully Carrie set it on the altar. Her hands shook with excitement. It was very old, almost two hundred years old, she thought. She turned a few pages, each the thickness of tissue.

A thin piece of paper fluttered out.

“It looks like a marriage certificate,” she said, running her finger over two very official-looking stamps on it. Two names were inscribed both in Russian script and in English. “These must be the bride and groom. I can’t believe this,” Carrie said, her voice tinged with awe. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised. Marriages between local people and the Russians were not uncommon. In fact, there are some in our village who claim to be part Russian.”

“So the Russians integrated themselves into local society.”

“Or vice versa,” she said. “The local people integrated themselves into Russian society.”

“What must the Indians have thought of them with their strange customs and weird clothes?”