Valley of promises, p.25
Valley of Promises, page 25
Will scanned the room. “It's a shame so many families gave up and left. Good days are ahead for this colony.”
“Yes, but we'll have some rough ones too,” Drew Prosser said. “We've lost some calves. It'll make for a rough year. I'd counted on selling them to help make ends meet.”
“The Lord will provide,” Will said with confidence.
Drew nodded. “I know, but I'll be interested to see how he does it.”
“How's that new calf of yours coming along?” Robert asked Will.
“Good. She's strong and hungry. In fact, if she doesn't slow down, we won't have enough milk for the family. I have to milk early to get our share,” he added with a grin.
“When do you think Santa is going to hand out the gifts?” Brian asked.
“Soon,” Jean said. “Brian, remember Christmas is more than just gifts.”
Will rested a hand on Jean's arm. “For little boys, Christmas is about presents and good things to eat. I remember well.” He kneeled in front of Brian. “Christmas is a time for gifts and goodies, but first it's a time to celebrate Jesus' birthday.”
“I know. I didn't forget.”
“Good.” Will patted the youngster on the back.
People started singing, “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” and Will hefted Brian onto his shoulders and joined in with the carolers.
His cheeks bright, Brian sang out, his falsetto voice carrying over the people.
Laurel's voice blended with those around her. A man standing beside her sang loudly, and she turned to see who it was. Adam smiled at her.
“Adam!” she yelled. Without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
Adam held her tightly. “I missed you. I couldn't stay away.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ROBERT'S TRUCK BUMPED THROUGH AN ICY POTHOLE. “THIS IS NEARLY AS rough as my plane trip here,” Adam said with a laugh. “I think you might call it a white knuckle special.”
“Was it scary on the plane?” Brian asked.
“Yeah, a little.”
Brian looked up at Adam. “I'm glad you're here. You can sleep in my bed. I don't mind.”
“No,” Adam said, glancing at Laurel. “I didn't come here to force anyone out of his bed. I can sleep on the sofa or the floor. It wouldn't be the first time.”
“Mama's already decided. Brian's sleeping with me,” Luke said with disdain. He gave Brian a derisive look. “How long since you took a bath?”
“Saturday night like always.”
“I don't want stinky feet in bed with me.”
“My feet don't stink,” Brian said defensively.
“Luke,” Will cautioned.
Luke turned to Adam. “Say, would you like to go with me and Alex tomorrow? We're practicing for the dogsled races they're having after Christmas.”
“Sounds like fun. I've never done any mushing.”
“Great. We'll leave at first light.”
“We were going to cut the tree tomorrow,” Will said.
“I know, but I figured you and Brian could do it. This is important. Alex and I got to practice if we're going to win.”
“All right.” Will smiled at Brian. “It'll just be you and me then.”
Brian climbed across the pickup bed to his father. He grinned up at him, clearly pleased.
Laurel searched for something to say. She'd figured that if she ever saw Adam again her mind would overflow with questions, but now that he sat across from her, she couldn't think of a single one.
“How are things shaping up in Europe?” Will asked.
“It's tense. There's a lot of speculation about Hitler and what he's going to do. He's building an army and recently announced the existence of a German air force, which is in direct violation of the Versailles Treaty. I think he's testing France and Britain. It doesn't look good. There's going to be war.”
“Really?” Luke asked. He looked at his dad. “If there is, I want to fight.”
“You're too young,” Will said. “And if there is a war, it won't involve the United States.”
“I wish I could agree with you,” Adam said, “but I don't think Europe can stand alone against Hitler. If he goes on the offensive, European countries are going to need help from the United States.”
“You mean American soldiers would have to fight?” Laurel asked, apprehension touching her.
“Yeah. I think so.”
Laurel's trepidation grew. “And what about you? What would you do?”
“I'd serve my country.” Adam plucked a piece of straw from the bale he rested against. “But right now we have peace. Anyway, I'd rather think about the English countryside. It's beautiful—green fields, heavy forests. And Paris. It's one of the most interesting cities I've ever visited. The Eiffel Tower is incredible. And when I was in Paris, I spent several hours in the Louvre.”
“What's that?” Brian asked.
“It's an art museum that sits right along the Seine River. Art from all over the world is housed there. They actually have paintings by Leonardo Da Vinci and Rembrandt.”
“I've always wondered what Paris was like,” Laurel said. “I doubt I'll ever see it.”
“I'll take you, as long as you're not afraid of flying,” Adam said with a grin.
Laurel didn't know how to respond. “I don't think I'm afraid. I've never been on a plane.”
“I've always wanted to fly,” Luke said.
“I like it.” Adam bundled deeper into his coat. “When you're high above everything, you get a whole new perspective. Farmland looks like a giant patchwork quilt, and rivers remind me of silver strands of ribbon.”
“Wow! That sounds neat,” Brian said. “Can I go to Paris with you?”
Adam gave the boy a quick squeeze. “Sure. Someday when you're grown up.”
Laurel studied Adam. He seemed different, comfortable and happy. And if it were possible, he looked even more handsome than she'd remembered. He needed a shave, but the shadow only added to his appeal. When he smiled, his strong features softened, revealing the inner boy. The eyes were the same deep blue and intense. When she was with him, she often had the feeling he could see her very thoughts.
She glanced into the cab and caught Robert's eye in the rearview mirror. He wore a gloomy expression.
Laurel remembered how his face had dropped when she'd thrown herself into Adam's arms. He'd been unable to conceal his hurt, and guilt had washed over her for causing it.
Until Laurel had seen Adam, she'd convinced herself he didn't matter anymore. Now, each time she looked at him, her heartbeat picked up, her palms turned sweaty, and she fumbled for something to say. She fought the impulse to stare at him and felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.
The truck turned into the driveway and slid to a stop in front of Laurel's house. Robert climbed out and walked around to Laurel. “Let me help you.” He caught her around the waist and lifted her down. Possessively, he kept his hands on her waist. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Uh, I don't know. Maybe. I don't know what I'll be doing. I guess it depends—”
“On what? Whatever Adam's doing?” Robert's voice was sharp. “Never mind. It doesn't matter.” He turned and walked back to the driver's side of the truck. “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Hasper.” He ignored Adam, wrenched open the door, climbed in, and slammed it closed.
“What's wrong with Robert?” Brian asked. “Is he mad?”
“Shh. It's none of your business.” Jean shuffled the baby from one arm to the other and took the little boy's hand. The truck's engine fired, and Robert bumped down the driveway. Jean headed for the back door. “Adam, I'll put fresh sheets on the bed for you.”
Her arms folded under her head, Laurel stared at the ceiling. Moonlight illuminated the room. She welcomed its glow. It matched her mood.
She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. Finally she threw her legs over the side of the bed, pushed her feet into slippers, and walked to the window. The moon looked like a giant yellow ball resting in the night sky. Its brightness lit up the yard and pastures. The barn stood in the light, dominating the pasture. Beyond were the forests, the mountains rising up behind them like a white crown silhouetted against the night sky.
A wolf howled, his call sounding lonely, pitiful. The cold air penetrated Laurel's flannelette nightgown. She rubbed her arms as if doing so would scrub away the gooseflesh. Why did Adam come? He could have spent Christmas with friends in Chicago.
Adam leaned his hands on the bureau and stared into the mirror. Brown hair fell onto his forehead; deep blue eyes filled with mischief stared back. He knew he was good-looking, but he'd always wanted to be seen as someone more reflective and serious, not just handsome. However, he wasn't averse to using his looks when he needed them.
Moving away from the mirror, he studied his build. He was tall and lean but well-muscled. Although most women found him attractive, Laurel didn't seem to care. Why wasn't she interested in him?
He pushed his arms into the sleeves of a flannel shirt, then did up the buttons. “Maybe she is,” he said, remembering how she'd sometimes blush under his gaze. And last night her warm welcome seemed genuinely affectionate. But afterwards, she withdrew and stayed away from me. Robert was at her side all night, he thought, feeling a surge of jealousy. “I need to stop thinking about her and just enjoy my time here,” he said, lacing a boot.
He was eager to spend Christmas with the Haspers. The idea of the holidays with a real family appealed to him. He felt at home here. He'd never had a home life, and this family drew him. He also hoped to find time alone with Laurel.
With a lull in Europe's tumult, it was easy to convince his editor to send him to Alaska to do additional research on the colony. The company had flown him north with a promise of better days to come if he found a good angle on the story. I'd better come up with something exciting. Maybe this dogsled race will do the trick, especially the angle of Luke and Alex, colonist and native working together. I hope they win. With one last look in the mirror, he headed for the kitchen. The smell of frying bacon and coffee greeted him at the top of the stairs. He hurried down.
“So, you ready for a practice run?” Luke asked him at the bottom of the stairs.
“You bet. Do you mind if I write about it?”
“That would be neat.” Luke caught Adam's arm. “In fact, I've been keeping a scrapbook of all your articles.”
Adam smiled. “Really?”
“Yeah. I've never known a real live reporter before. And you're good. I was thinking that maybe some day I'll give it a try.”
Adam placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Give it your best try.” He stepped into the kitchen. “Morning, Mrs. Hasper.”
“Morning, Adam,” Jean said, spooning batter onto a griddle.
“I could smell breakfast clear upstairs. My mouth's watering.”
Laurel lifted a pot of coffee off the stove. “Would you like a cup?”
“Oh, yeah. I could use some. Thank you.” Taking the coffee, he held it under his nose and took a whiff. “Smells good.” He sipped then wandered to the kitchen window and looked outside. “When's it get light?”
“We've got nearly three hours yet,” Luke said. “I know my way to Alex's. We won't have to wait till sunup.”
The back door opened, and Will walked in. He pulled off his gloves, shoved them into his coat pockets, then took off the coat and hung it on a peg. “Cold this morning, and the wind's picking up. Looks like we might be in for another storm.” He kissed Jean, accepted a cup of coffee from her, and sat at the table. “So, what do you think of Alaska in the wintertime, Adam?”
“What I've seen I like. I've missed Alaska.”
Luke sat across from his father. “You missed it even when you were in Europe?” he asked incredulously.
“Europe's nice, but it's not home.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “So where is home, Adam?”
“I never thought much about it. Being raised in an orphanage, I don't have a place to look back on. When I lived in Chicago, I rented an apartment, but it never felt like home.” He raised his cup. “I guess this feels more like home than any place.” His eyes met Laurel's, then returned to Will. “I know it sounds silly, but after spending last summer here, working on the house, fishing with you, Luke, and Brian, and just being with the family, I kind of feel like I belong.” He shrugged. “Can't explain it.”
Will smiled. “I understand. I've always had family, but I would think that growing up without one would feel like being set adrift on an ice flow.” He placed a hand on Adam's arm. “I'm honored you chose us as your stand-in. You fit real well.” He hesitated. “Have you ever considered staying? Ever wonder if this might be where you belong?”
Adam's cup stopped halfway to his mouth. Slowly he lowered it to the table. “I thought about it. Sure wish I could stay. But there's no future for me here. I've got my career to think about.”
Jean set a plate of bacon and a platter of pancakes on the table. “Who's to say where a person's future lies? That's only something God can know. If we listen to him, he'll direct us.” She looked at Adam. “Have you ever asked him where you belong?”
Adam speared two pancakes and set them on his plate. “Well, ma'am, not really. I know you folks put a lot of stock in God, but I can't give him much credit for the good or bad in my life. He's never done much for me.” Adam's mind reeled with memories of the cruel and lonely institution where he'd grown up. He'd placed his trust in God once, but God hadn't rescued him. God had let him down, and Adam had no room for him. Trying to remain nonchalant, he drizzled syrup over pancakes. “I don't think God cares much about me.”
“I'm sorry to hear you say that,” Jean said. “He does care. God created you. He sent his son to die for you. You just need to believe.”
Adam chewed and stared at his plate. “Ma'am, with all due respect, believing never did me any good.”
Standing at the stove, Laurel listened, remembering what Adam had told her about his childhood. He'd been a lonely, frightened boy. She wanted to comfort him, knowing that child still lived inside. Gently she said, “It wasn't God who let you down. It was people.”
Adam looked at Laurel. “Well, I guess you're welcome to your opinion.” He took another bite of pancake.
After breakfast, Luke and Adam headed for Alex's. Adam struggled to adapt to snowshoes.
Although daylight touched the sky, the temperature dropped. “Looks like clouds are building up,” Adam said. “Do you think it's a good idea to be out here?”
“Oh, sure. We'll be fine.”
They approached a small log cabin nestled in deep snow amid a grove of spruce. A trail of smoke drifted from a chimney. Luke strode up to the door and knocked. A low, gruff bark answered from inside.
A few moments later, the door opened. A dark-haired girl with oval, brown eyes stood just inside. She smiled. “Hi, Luke.” A huge dog with a heavy coat and gray and white markings on its face pushed its nose between the door and the girl. He growled.
“King, no. It's just Luke.”
Adam studied the animal, wondering if he ought to step back. Its dark brown eyes were filled with suspicion, and they'd settled on him.
“Hi, Mattie,” Luke said, reaching out and patting the dog. “Is Alex ready to go?”
“He's sick.”
“What's wrong?”
“Sore throat and a fever.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I don't think he's all that sick. He just likes to be babied.”
“I am sick,” came a croaky reply. A moment later Alex appeared at the door. He gave Mattie a disdainful glance. “Sorry, Luke, but I really am sick.”
“I was hoping we could practice.”
Alex nodded at Adam. “Hey, what are you doing back here? I thought you were off in England or somewhere.”
“I was, but I had a little work to do here and thought it would be nice to spend Christmas in Alaska.” He glanced at the dog. “Nice dog. What's his name?”
“King.” Alex patted his head. “He's not mean. Just let him sniff the back of your hand.”
Adam took a step forward. A growl rose from King's throat. Adam stopped, then hesitantly held out his hand, palm down. The big dog sniffed him, then pushed through the door, heading straight for him. Adrenaline shot through Adam, but he held his ground, allowing the large animal to sniff his legs and feet. “Good boy. I'm not a bad man. I'm a good man,” he said.
Seeming satisfied, King wagged his tail and licked Adam's hand. Adam stroked his head.
“You can go without me. The sled's out back,” Alex said.
“You think I'm ready?”
“Sure. You're good, a natural. And King is used to you. You can handle him.”
Luke ruffled the dog's thick fur. “OK, King. I guess it's just you and me today.” The dog leaned against Luke's leg, pushing his one hundred plus pounds against the young man. Suddenly he bounded past Luke and into the snow.
With King in the harness, Luke and Adam set off. At first the only sound was the swoosh of runners and jangle of the harness as they cut across the snow. “We've got a piece of open ground where we practice,” Luke called to Adam, who struggled to keep up.
Adam's legs ached, and he fought for breath. The cold hurt his lungs. King seemed to be picking up the pace. “Hey, could you slow down?” he called.
Pulling the sled to a stop, Luke laughed. “Can't take it, huh?”
Adam caught up to him. Resting his hands on his legs, he bent at the waist and gulped in oxygen. “Keeping up with a sled in deep snow isn't running; it's torture. I'd like to see you do it.”
“I told you to ride,” Luke said with a grin.
“I should have listened to you.”
“Why don't you take a turn?”
“I don't know how.”
“Just stand on the runners. If you want him to go, say mush; gee means right and haw means left. King knows what to do.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“OK.” Taking the traces, Adam stepped onto the sled. “All right, let's go,” he said, jingling the harness. “Mush.” King needed no coaxing. He lunged ahead, and Adam nearly toppled off backward. He grabbed hold of the sled and hung on. In spite of his hood, wind whistled past his ears. His cheeks burned with the cold, and he wished he'd remembered to pull his scarf over his face.
