Under Alaskan Skies (14 page)

Finally, after she sat there running her fingers over the box for an eternity, she opened it and looked inside at the ring made of silver set in an intricate, old-fashioned setting with an amber stone. Again, a long
silence. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He took it out of the box and slid it onto her finger.

“Say something, Carrie,” he said. “Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, holding up her hand. “I-I’ve never had anything so beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until she was actually wearing the ring. He didn’t know what to say, either. He’d been so afraid she’d think she shouldn’t accept it. Or that she wouldn’t like it. What a lucky break that he’d been able to buy her something so perfect in this outpost. Maggie had been so helpful. She’d instinctively known what would be right for Carrie. When he saw the gem, he knew it, too.

She twisted the ring around on her finger. “The setting is lovely. It looks old, is it Russian?”

“Yes, Maggie said most amber comes from the Baltic. The Russians brought it with them, to trade or just to wear. She’s had this for a while in her collection. I couldn’t have found anything I liked better. But the main thing is whether you like it.”

“I do,” Carrie said so softly he had to bend forward to hear her. Then she put her hand on Matt’s cheek and kissed him. She meant it only to be a thank-you kiss and she thought he knew it. She was afraid of starting something she couldn’t finish tonight and then he’d fly off tomorrow and she’d be left more alone than she’d ever been in her life. But how else to express what she was feeling, the gratitude, the tenderness, the affection, than by a kiss? But she was feeling more than that. Much more. She was
bowled over by the thought that had gone into the gift. That he’d cared that much.

He didn’t kiss her back, but he traced the outline of her mouth with his finger. There was a flutter in the area of her heart, but this time she didn’t lose her head. She thought he was sincere about wanting to fish tomorrow, but if the weather cleared, he’d be out of there, gone forever, fishing or not. She had to preserve some shred of pride and discipline. As much as she wanted to make love to him, she was not going to. Not tonight. Not ever. She might be naive, self-deluded and impulsive, but she also had some sense of self-preservation.

There were questions in his gaze. She could only imagine what those might be. What about later? What about finishing what we started? What about what happened out there on the island?

She didn’t have any answers so she didn’t give him any. Instead she suggested he call the ship and give them an update on the weather conditions, as much as he could.

When she went to her room, she opened the window and looked up at the sky. She didn’t know whether to hope for clear weather or not. Matt seemed to genuinely want to go fishing. And her? What did she genuinely want? She didn’t dare answer that. She wanted what she’d always wanted. A man like her, who’d been raised in the bush, but educated outside. Who knew and understood both worlds but had chosen this one as she had. She’d tried to find such a man once, she thought she’d come close enough, but she’d been wrong. She wouldn’t try again. It was too
painful when they turned their back on her and her way of life and left.

She closed the window and went to bed with her ring on her finger, lying on her back with her eyes closed, lightly polishing the smooth surface of the amber with her fingers. It was the best present she’d ever gotten. The best birthday she’d ever had.

Again she overslept. Matt was knocking on her door, saying he was going fishing. She looked out the window. It was gray and cloudy. The weather hadn’t changed.

“Wait,” she said, opening her bedroom door. “I’ll come with you.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m late already. I told Bradley I’d be there at eight. I have to buy some equipment at Merry’s store first.”

When his gaze slid over her nightgown and down to her bare feet, she felt like he was undressing her right there in the hallway. She took a deep breath and forced herself to think about fishing. “You don’t have to buy anything. We must have some old poles in the shed,” she said.

“I have to do this right,” he said. “And get my own stuff. I may never have another chance.”

“Where are you going to fish?” she asked. “I’ll join you there later with a picnic lunch.”

“Have you heard of a place called Willard’s Pond?” he asked. “Where the trout jump out and beg you to catch them?”

She grinned at the tale she’d heard over and over but never believed. “Yes, of course. I’ll meet you there. You take the truck, I’ll hitch a ride.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. The keys are in it.”

There was a long pause. He looked well rested and alert just like yesterday morning. Crisp dark hair. Firm jaw. Broad shoulders. Wide-awake-but-sexy, heavy-lidded eyes. She knew how she looked next to him, rumpled, sleepy, tousled. She could have stayed in her room. She should have. Then they could have had this conversation through the door. But no, she had to have a look at him.

He finally spoke. “I, uh, I decided it wasn’t flying weather,” he said. “I trust you agree?”

“You’re probably right,” she said. “I’ll check it out.”

He didn’t wait for her to check it out. He turned and she heard his footsteps on the stairs, then the truck’s engine and then he was gone. She smiled to herself thinking of how excited he’d looked. As if he was a kid going fishing for the first time. Arrested development. Was that what he said he had? She preferred to think of it as enthusiasm for what was new. She loved seeing her life and her town and her friends through his eyes. Even Maggie.

She took her time getting dressed, wearing some faded jeans that had shrunk and now fitted like a second skin and a coral-colored sweater that sent some color to her cheeks and made her hair look more mahogany than fiery. Why was she dressing so carefully for a fishing trip to a local pond? She wouldn’t even consider the question. Maybe she was afraid she already knew the answer. Besides, she was much too busy making a picnic lunch with deviled eggs and tuna-salad sandwiches and frosted brownies.

When she was ready, she called Granger Hill who
lived farther out than she did and asked if he was going to town. He went to town every day so she wasn’t too surprised to have him offer to pick her up. When he saw she had a large wicker picnic basket, he insisted on taking her straight to the pond.

“Heard you got yourself a boyfriend,” he said before he let her off.

She felt her cheeks turn the color of her sweater. “No,” she said, twisting the silver ring around on her finger. “That’s not true, and I’ll thank you to set the record straight if you get a chance. The man is a doctor who came here out of the goodness of his heart to see our Donny. He’s staying with me, yes, but that’s because I have a spare room and I’m the only one he knows. If I had a boyfriend, you’d be the first to know, Granger. That’s just a rumor. You know how rumors get started in this town, don’t you?”

“Yes, I sure do, Ace,” Granger said with an amused glance at her, reminding her of the nickname her father had given her that had stuck for many years. “Of course I’ll be glad to do that. Set the record straight, that is. No problem. Well, here we are now. That looks like your truck there. I can’t drive you any farther. Think you can make it up the trail to the pond okay?”

“Of course. Thanks a lot.” She stood watching him drive back down the one-lane dirt road and started up the path.

M
ATT LISTENED PATIENTLY
while Bradley showed him once again how to bait his hook with one of the expensive flies he’d just bought. For some reason the flies always fell off or got eaten off before he ever
caught a fish. Bradley and his friend already had a bucket full of good-size trout while Matt had none. Maybe it was because they were using inexpensive worms. It was especially galling because Matt had a brand-new pole, a selection of flies, a net and a fancy cooler to hold his catch, which so far was nonexistent.

He really didn’t mind. He sat on a rock at the edge of the pond holding his new pole in his hand. The wind had died down. The trees were still, and redolent of pine. Gulls squawked and circled, looking for handouts. The two boys, Bradley and his friend Skip, dangled their lines in the water and talked about school and friends and things that boys talk about wherever they live. They were only serious when asking about Bradley’s brother Donny. Matt assured them he was probably going to get well. There was no sense in scaring them for no reason. Telling them any details would only confuse them.

“You boys come here often?” he asked.

“My dad brings us sometimes, when he’s not out logging,” Bradley said. “My mom says it’s his way of getting out of work around the house. But he says, ‘Do you want some fish for dinner or not?’ And you can’t live in Alaska and not fish. What about California, Doc?” Bradley said. “You never went fishing down there?” The boy leaned forward and hauled in another fish. Matt shook his head in surprise as the boy expertly removed the hook from its mouth and plopped it into his bucket along with all the others.

He sounded just like Carrie. Amazed that he’d grown up without such an essential skill.

“Nobody ever took me,” he said. “My dad was too busy. So I appreciate you guys helping me out
here. What I don’t understand is how you catch all these fish with a pole and a string and a worm on the end of your hook and I’ve got all this new equipment and these beautiful flies and nobody’s biting.”

The boys laughed and offered to find him a long stick. But he laughed, too, at his own ineptitude and shook his head. If someone had told him he’d be spending a day doing nothing but sitting on a rock, holding a pole in his hand for hours, staring at the water under a leaden sky without being bored or worried about wasting time, he’d have said they were crazy. But here he was, enjoying the company of two eight-year-olds and doing absolutely nothing. Not a medical textbook in sight. Of course he was supposed to be catching fish, but they weren’t cooperating with him today. Not that he cared. What he cared about was the impending arrival of Carrie.

While he waited, he wondered if he’d ever go fishing again. Would anyone ever take him fishing again, or more important, would he ever take anyone fishing with him? Would he ever have another break in his life like this, or would he turn out like his father, working until his heart gave out, and then in his sixties be forced to cut down on his practice and only then look around and realize what he’d missed and take a cruise to Alaska. The prospect wasn’t appealing. But what was the alternative? There wasn’t one. He loved medicine. He loved treating patients. He loved the challenge of making a diagnosis and then the satisfaction of seeing his patients get well.

He’d put in all these years and there was no going back now. He’d been given a few days of freedom
and he would enjoy them. But there weren’t likely to be many more like this.

Bradley laid his pole down and sat cross-legged next to Matt on the rock. “You’re not married, are ya?” he asked. “That’s what my mom said.”

“That’s right. I’ve been going to school for a long time. That’s what you have to do to be a doctor. So I haven’t had time to get married.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Bradley’s friend asked.

“Yes,” Matt said reluctantly.

“It’s Carrie, isn’t it?” Skip asked.

Matt didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, the boys didn’t wait for his answer.

“You got one, too,” Bradley said, pointing to Skip. “You like Jenny Bradshaw.”

“I do not. She stinks.”

“You do, too.”

The boys splashed water on each other until Matt told them to stop. They switched their attention back to him.

“What about Carrie?” Skip asked.

“She’s nice, very nice. I like her a lot.”

“Does she like you?”

“I think so. I hope so. You could ask her when she comes with our lunch.”

“See?” Skip said to his friend. “I told you.”

“Hey, there she is.”

Matt turned his head and saw her walking toward them with her picnic basket in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed from the walk up the trail and matched the color of her sweater. He stared at her as dazzled as he was the first time he’d seen her. How could it
be like that? How could she make him feel as if there were rockets going off inside his chest every time he saw her? It couldn’t last. Another day or two and he’d come off this high. He had to. Otherwise he’d never be able to leave. He’d never get back to normal. Never be able to study or work again.

He was already dreading the day the sun shone through those clouds above them. Every night he prayed for clouds. He prayed for rain or hail or even snow. It was hard to pray for clouds and then pretend to be disappointed when the skies didn’t clear. So he’d stopped pretending. He’d admitted he was having a good time. No one could possibly know just how good a time he was having. Except for Carrie. He set his pole down and went to relieve her of the heavy basket.

“If I’d known when you were coming I would have met you down below and helped you with the lunch. This is the lunch, I hope,” he said, raising the basket to gauge the weight. “My pals and I are starving.”

“No, it’s some extra bait I thought you might need,” she said with a grin.

He shook his head. “I’ve got enough here to last for a year.”

“Where did you get all that stuff?” she asked, taking in his spinning reel, his fly-casting pole and his tackle box, open to reveal a large selection of flies.

“From your friend Merry’s store. She said this is what I’d need for trout fishing.”

“Do you know how to cast?” she asked.

“No, but the boys are trying to teach me.” He
waved to the boys who had wandered to the other side of the pond.

“How many have you caught?” she asked, looking in his brand-new cooler.

“Not a thing. In the meantime, the kids have been pulling them in one after another. Look there in their bucket. They use sticks and string and worms and fish eggs.”

“That’s the traditional method. Sounds like Merry saw a chance to unload a lot of gear on you,” Carrie observed.