Under Alaskan Skies (9 page)

Carrie shook her head as if she didn’t know the answer. But she did. It was obvious that Maggie would be where Carrie was, alone and destined to stay alone, fulfilling her father’s hopes and dreams, while Maggie was out flirting with every man who came within her territory, by boat or plane. She had no hang-ups about loving and leaving any man who crossed her path. Carrie guessed that was one way of getting through the long, cold winters. It just wasn’t her way.

Even though she wouldn’t say it, Carrie had to agree that not only was Matt the best-looking man to hit the town in ten years, but also that Maggie ought to know. She’d been looking for a man ever since her husband walked out and went back to the lower forty-eight, something fairly rare. Usually it was the woman who couldn’t take the isolation, the lack of amenities and the cool, rainy weather. It wasn’t only Carrie’s
mother who’d gone home after a few years in the bush. She was just one of many.

But Maggie loved living in the bush. She knew how to use a chain saw and a fishing rod, all without smudging her mascara. She, too, had her own boat and made the rounds of the other villages along the waterfront, visiting friends and buying native crafts. She had her own Internet business selling moccasins and beaded necklaces and carvings from her Web site. Her whole house was full to the brim with artifacts. At the moment she was wearing a carved soapstone pendant and a shell bracelet, all part of her collection.

Though she’d reputedly had many romances with various men over the years, from one-night stands to several-month stands, it seemed Maggie hadn’t yet found anybody to take Bud’s place. She was convinced it was just a matter of time. After all, the ratio of men to women in the state was twenty-five to one. Of course, the saying up there was that though the odds were good, the goods were odd. Maybe Maggie didn’t want anyone around permanently. Maybe she liked the variety of a new man every few months or whenever they happened along. Carrie had never talked to her about such things.

No wonder Maggie had her eye on Dr. Matt. He was single. He was a professional. He was far from odd. Surely Carrie didn’t have to warn Maggie that Matt was not going to be around for more than a day or two. Maybe that’s all she wanted. Maybe she didn’t care that this was somebody with whom she could have no future.

In Carrie’s view, nobody in their right mind would fall for a doctor who didn’t belong up here. Having
a short-term affair with someone you’d never see again would be the height of folly as far as she was concerned. These were thoughts Carrie kept to herself. She was hardly one to give advice. She’d fallen for someone who didn’t belong up there and tried to convince herself he did. Maggie knew that. The whole town knew it. It was hard to keep a secret in Mystic, population 325.

After she found a book for Maggie, and Maggie sat down in the large, comfortable, overstuffed chair that Carrie had donated to the library, Carrie helped some students do research for a paper they were writing for school. When Matt walked in an hour later, a hush fell over the library. Everyone looked up from the book or magazine or newspaper or encyclopedia they were reading. He stood in the doorway for a moment, and she was struck again by how he’d taken on the look of a true Alaskan in less than twenty-four hours. Not that he’d grown a beard or carried a pickax; it was more subtle than that. It was something about the expression on his face. Yesterday he’d been a tourist, today he looked as though he fitted in. Not that he really did. She cautioned herself against even thinking such a thing.

Maybe it was the fact that instead of his Yuppie brand-name clothes, he was wearing her father’s well-washed chambray shirt and khakis. He stood in the doorway, momentarily surprised at the reception he’d received. He shouldn’t be surprised, Carrie thought. By now he should know he had reached near celebrity status in town.

“Come in,” she said, getting up from her desk. “Come and meet the library patrons.”

She introduced him to the dozen or so citizens who shook his hand and thanked him for coming and then let him answer the question that was on everyone’s mind. How’s Donny?

He sat on the edge of Carrie’s desk and explained what spinal-cord trauma was, the causes and the effect and the possible outcome of such injury. He also talked about how to prevent such accidents as Donny had had.

“Football and sledding injuries sometimes involve abnormal twisting and bending of the back or neck, like this.” He twisted his body to simulate a sports injury which was more effective than a picture. There was a chorus of oohs and aahs in the room. “When you do go sledding,” he added, “inspect the area for obstacles. Any bumps or holes can cause you to fly off your sled and hit your head or your spine. Always wear a helmet and other protective gear when you’re playing football or even sledding. ATVs are especially dangerous. They don’t have the stability of a four-wheel vehicle. If you must drive one, then, again, wear a helmet.

“Most spinal-cord injuries like Donny’s happen to young males between the ages of fifteen and thirty-five. But they can be prevented if you use the proper equipment and follow safety rules.”

The boys in the group nodded soberly. Some were Donny’s good friends. Carrie hoped they’d follow this good advice. It was painful to think that his accident could have been prevented. But all this was general information, and the crowd wanted specifics. Was their friend going to get well?

Matt explained that he’d done what he could by
giving Donny medicines to reduce the swelling on his spinal cord. Prompt treatment was essential and if it hadn’t been for Carrie, there was no telling what the outcome would be. As it was, he couldn’t tell for sure, not until Donny had an X ray to see what the damage was. Eventually he’d have to be airlifted out to be treated at a hospital where he might have to have surgery. Matt said it was quite possible the boy would recover completely. In the meantime they could visit him, as long as they didn’t get him too tired.

Carrie admired his patience as Matt sat there until every question had been answered. Not only would he make a good doctor, she had the feeling he’d be good at teaching medicine if that was what he wanted to do. Finally Donny’s friends drifted out and the library atmosphere returned to somewhat normal. Carrie answered the phone while Matt walked between the stacks and examined the books. It must look terribly inadequate and meager to him. He couldn’t know how she’d begged, borrowed and bought books with her own money to fill the shelves. She was proud of it. It was not only a place to find information or entertainment between the pages of a book, it was also a place for townspeople to gather to exchange news and information, especially at a time like this where one of their own was in danger.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Maggie, who’d been silent during Matt’s talk, get up from her chair, tuck her book under her arm and very casually sidle up to him and strike up a conversation. She couldn’t hear what they were talking about but she could imagine. Maggie was giving him a dose of Alaska lore. She could understand why Matt might
be interested in her. While in her late thirties, she could easily pass for twenty-five with her smooth skin and bright-blue eyes. Carrie could understand why any man would find her attractive. She knew a lot and she’d seen a lot. She liked men and men liked her. Matt was a change from the rugged lumberjacks and fishermen she usually hung out with. She would have noticed by now that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

Carrie felt a stab of jealousy watching them talking together. Why should she? He didn’t belong to her. If he belonged to anyone, it was to his girlfriend back on the ship. She wondered if he’d called the ship yet and left word he wouldn’t be back today. How many more days would he be trapped here?

She hung up without knowing what book she’d promised to look for, and typed out labels on her old manual typewriter for some new books that had arrived. All the while Matt and Maggie were back in the stacks talking in low voices. Finally Maggie walked to the desk to check out her book. Before she left, she paused at the door and turned to wave to Matt.

“See you later,” she said. “Let me know if you want to take me up on my offer.”

He nodded.

Carrie forced herself to stay calm. Whatever offer she’d made was between them. Carrie should be focusing on the books she was cataloging instead of looking out the window at Maggie, who was walking across the road, her blond hair blowing in the wind. Matt didn’t belong to her just because she was the one who’d found him and brought him here. There
was no such thing as first dibs as far as she was concerned. Not with people. Especially not with men.

He could see whoever he wanted. No one said he had to spend every minute he wasn’t taking care of Donny with her. It was good that he got to meet the locals. Hadn’t she wanted to show him it was the friendliest town in the state? Didn’t she want him to experience it for himself as a kind of justification for her staying up there? The answers were yes and yes. Of course she did. Then why did she feel so edgy, as if she was sitting on a fence and the slightest breeze would push her over? If she were that fragile, she shouldn’t be living in the last frontier. She shouldn’t be flying around the state by herself. She should hibernate with the bears for the winter.

It was no use pretending Matt wasn’t in the library. Everyone else had left, knowing that she closed at noon. It didn’t do any good to imagine this was an ordinary day in the life of a part-time librarian. Even as she typed a label she knew exactly where he was in the stacks. When he came out he was carrying a book about the Russian occupation of Alaska.

“Your friend Maggie was telling me about an island near here where the Russians built a small church. She says you can visit the remains and get a feeling for another era of Alaska history. I had no idea they actually had a colony up here. I thought they’d come and hunted seal and left.”

“No, they had many settlements. Not only hunting and fishing, but trading as well. Did she offer to take you to the island in her boat?” Carrie asked. It was hard, but she kept her tone neutral as if it was only of small interest whether she had or not. And even
less interest whether he’d accepted her offer. Nevertheless, Matt shot her a surprised glance.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“I told you this was a friendly town. Did you say yes?” she asked.

“I told her I’d let her know. I hate to be a burden on you, and I know you have things to do, but I was hoping I could convince you to take me there.”

“Oh.” Relief made her light-headed and almost giddy. “Of course I can.” She looked up at the gray sky. “I don’t think it will rain, at least for a while, so we ought to take advantage of the weather, or lack of weather. What’s really happening with Donny?” she asked. “I was surprised to hear he was well enough to play chess.”

“So was I. And glad he could sit up today. Chess gave him an incentive to move his upper body a little so we had a few games. He’s really very good. He says you got him some books on chess and encouraged him to learn the game.”

“Yes, but it’s hard to learn from books. I’ve always wished he had someone to play with. He must be better.”

“Somewhat. The medicines I gave him have reduced the pain and the swelling, so at least he feels better. What’s really going on is something we won’t know until we get him out of here and get some pictures of what’s going on inside. But I wouldn’t want to chance that for a few weeks.” He glanced up at the sky. “Maybe I’ll still be here by then.”

The thought of Matt staying there for weeks instead of days made her feel panicky. She didn’t know how much longer she could be in such close contact with
him and not show her feelings. Impulsively she grabbed him by the arm. “Oh, no,” she said. “This kind of weather doesn’t ever last that long. Aren’t you due in San Francisco soon?”

“Next week,” he said. “But if I can’t get out, I can’t get out.”

He sounded so philosophical about it she was shocked.

“But they’re expecting you. This is a big opportunity for you. Your father told me how competitive these residencies are. You’ve been chosen. You can’t be late.”

“It sounds as if you’re anxious to get rid of me,” he said, helping her on with her jacket. His hands brushed her shoulders, and it seemed they lingered longer than necessary.

“No, of course not. It’s just…”

“It’s just that I’m cramping your style, aren’t I? Don’t feel you have to show me around.”

She turned to face him. “I want to,” she said.

“I want you to,” he said.

Her heart skipped a beat. She was glad he wasn’t monitoring her pulse at that moment. He was so close she could smell the soap on his hands and the coffee on his breath. She could feel the heat from his body. He was close, but not close enough. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to press her breasts against the muscles in his chest, to feel his heartbeat right through his shirt, to see if it matched her own. She wanted to know if he felt the same as she did.

They stood there in the silence of the library, with the familiar musty smell of old books mingled with the smell of paste and glue, locked in a contest to see
who would look away first. It wouldn’t be her. She was lost in the depths of his eyes that seemed as dark as the deepest sea.

She didn’t know how long they might have stood there while the tension built. They might have been there for hours if it hadn’t been for Merry knocking on the door. Carrie started guiltily and stepped backward. The spell was broken. The tension was gone.

“Hello,” Merry called gaily. “Are you still there, Carrie? I came to invite you and the doctor to lunch.”

Carrie opened the door. Merry stepped in, and her keen, inquisitive gaze shifted from Carrie to Matt and back again. She smiled brightly and repeated her invitation.

Lunch was in Merry’s house behind the store. The wall was decorated with antlers from a moose her husband had shot. The heat from her woodstove was welcome after the chill outside. Merry was not only a good cook, but she had access to the best ingredients before her customers did. She also subscribed to a number of cooking magazines. Her dishes were always the first to disappear at any potluck dinner. Today she made puffy crab soufflés and beamed at the compliments she got from her two guests.