Home at last, p.26
Home at Last, page 26
Mattie knew her grandmother was right, but she didn't want to think about it. While her grandmother was rejoicing in heaven, she would still be here, missing her.
Atuska plumped a pillow and settled against it. Her face was wistful. “Sometimes I think of the place where I grew up and wish I could go there just once more. It was beautiful.”
“Where was that?” Luke asked, sitting on a chair beside the sofa.
Her brown eyes soft, Atuska looked at him. “The Aleutians, on a small island not far from Unalaska. It was a good place to be a child.” A look of whimsy settled on her face. “My mother and I used to pick berries. They were so delicious. And when my father and brothers would return with a kill, we would have a celebration. What fun we had.” She looked at Mattie. “I wish you could see how it was. We would have such a wonderful party.”
She returned to her memories. “We all brought food and sometimes gifts, and we would feast and dance. The men told stories.” Her eyes sparkled. “When I was small, many of the tales frightened me. The storytellers were very good.” She continued to drink her tea. “My favorite thing was the blanket toss.” She chuckled. “I was very good. I didn't weigh very much, so the people would throw me up and I would sail so high I could see all the way to the other end of the village, sometimes even beyond to where the waves splashed against the rocks.” She closed her eyes. “How I would like to go there again.”
“I wish I could take you, but there's a war,” Mattie said. “The Japanese captured the islands, and it's too dangerous to go there.”
Atuska looked at her granddaughter. “I know, but it is still fun to think of it.” Finishing her tonic, she returned the cup to Mattie, then closed her eyes. Soon her breathing became heavy, her body relaxed. She was asleep.
Mattie returned to the kitchen and set the cup in the washbasin. Luke joined her. He leaned against the drain board. “I bet she has some really good stories.”
“She does. Ask her and she will tell you some—maybe even more than you want to hear.” She gazed at the old woman. “I wish I could take her to her home.”
“Maybe you can when the war ends.”
“I don't think that will be soon enough.” Mattie took Luke's hand in hers, pressed it against his chest, and rested her cheek on his wool shirt. His heart thumped steady and strong. “I hate the war.”
Luke banked the fire in the small barrel stove in the corner of the cabin. In truth, their little house wasn't a cabin. It was a modified shed that sat only yards from Mattie's mother's house. For now it was comfortable enough, but Luke planned on building a proper home as soon as finances allowed.
He climbed into bed beside Mattie and cuddled close. “You're cold,” she said.
“I know. It's freezing in here. I'd build a bigger fire, but I'm afraid it will get too hot and catch the house on fire.” Luke pulled her close. “We'll have a better place soon. I promise.” He kissed the back of her neck.
Mattie didn't reply. She stared at the wall where the soft light of the moon illuminated rough timber.
“Is something wrong? You were quiet all through supper.”
“I've been thinking...about you and Ray. I wish you could patch up your differences. Your mother told me they would like us to stay with them, and I think it would be better than living here.”
“Why is everyone so concerned about me and Ray? I don't know if I can change. I don't even know if I want to.”
“You can. I thought you wanted to.”
“Mattie, it's not that easy,” Luke said, softening his tone. “Anyway, I figure we'll get our differences ironed out eventually—just not yet.” He nuzzled her neck. “I found a piece of land. I think it'll work for us.”
Mattie stiffened. She didn't want to talk about land. She wanted to move away.
“It's a good patch of ground, and not far out of town. You could walk into Palmer if you had a mind to, which would be good once we have kids. That way you could get them to and from school without much fuss. You could even take them to the doctor's if they got sick. And I thought it would be good if—”
“Luke, I'm tired. I want to go to sleep.” Mattie burrowed into her pillow.
“Oh. I just thought we could talk about it for a few minutes, but if you're tired…” He rolled over abruptly and turned down the lantern. A moment later he sat up and fluffed his pillow, then dropped back down, his back to Mattie.
She knew he was hurt, but she didn't have the energy to talk about how their lives would be. Luke always envisioned a farm here in the valley, and she wanted out, anywhere on the outside. She stared into the semidarkness, listening to the pop of wood in the stove.
“Mattie,” Luke said softly, “you awake?”
“Uh-huh.”
Luke was silent a moment, then asked, “You don't want to stay, do you?”
Mattie didn't answer immediately. What was there to talk about? If they stayed, she'd be unhappy; if they left, he'd be unhappy. No way was right for them.
“Mattie?”
“No. I don't want to stay,” she said softly.
“Why not? Both of our families are here. We have friends. It's right for us.”
Mattie rolled over and faced Luke. She lifted his hand and kissed a fingertip. “You're a good man, Luke, and I love you. But this is something you don't seem to be able to understand. I don't know why. Even before I moved to Seattle I told you how I felt, that I wanted to leave. But you always act as if we should stay and that it's good for both of us. It's not.”
“You've barely mentioned leaving since I got back. How can I know how you feel?” He sat up. “When you moved here from Seattle, you didn't come because of me. Why did you return?”
“I thought you were dead, and I needed my family.”
Luke was quiet. “I'd figured you'd gotten over all that Indian stuff.”
“Indian stuff?” Instantly angry, Mattie pressed her lips together. She knew better than to speak immediately. “When you say ‘Indian stuff,’ it sounds like you think I'm being silly, like what I feel is ridiculous.”
“I don't think that. I just thought you were better, that's all.”
Mattie sat up and hugged her knees. “I'm not. Nothing has really changed. And it's not Indian stuff, it's my life—the way people look at me, the things they say and don't say...the humiliation. I don't want my children to go through what I have.”
“You think that just because we move away from Alaska you and any children we might have won't face troubles, that people won't be cruel? I'm not an Indian. I don't have one ounce of Indian blood, but I've had my share of people's poison.” His voice was angry.
“It's not the same.” Mattie's mind returned to parties she couldn't attend, children who wouldn't play with her or taunted her, and adults who would rather cross the street than walk past her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against her knees. The wounds inside still festered. She doubted they would ever heal.
She looked at Luke. “Of all people, I thought you would understand. You're supposed to love me.” She blinked back tears. “I can't even count the number of times people have snubbed me or humiliated me because of what they saw when they looked at me.” She punched the mattress with her feet. “I won't let that happen to my children.”
“Mattie, it isn't going to be like that. I won't let it.”
“You can't stop it. No one can. You can't change the way people think and feel. There are always going to be people who hate me or our children because of our Indian blood.”
“Things are different now—better.” Luke pressed his hand against her back. “We'll have a good life here. You'll see.”
Mattie closed her eyes. A hollow ache swelled in her chest. Why can't he understand? She shook her head. “I wish you were right, but you're not.” She threw back the blankets and dropped her feet over the side of the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm going for a walk.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Yes. In the middle of the night.”
“Mattie, it's freezing out there. It's not safe for you to go out.”
“I've lived here all my life. I know what I can and cannot do. I'll be fine.” She sat on a stool and pulled on a pair of pants and warm boots. Then she grabbed her parka, pulled it over her nightclothes, and shoved her hands into gloves. “I'll be back soon.”
“At least let me go with you.”
“No. I need to be alone.”
“Mattie, be reasonable. Come back to bed.”
Without another word, Mattie opened the door. Icy air flowed inside. She ignored the cold and stepped into the enchanted world of a winter night. Moon glow lay down shadows at the feet of the trees, giving the forest a mysterious air. Mattie had a sense of the unworldly and nearly retreated, but when she imagined Luke's response, she decided to keep going and headed toward the river.
It hadn't snowed for the last few days, so it was easy to follow a trail, which had already been laid down. The frozen ground crunched and squeaked beneath her feet. Frigid air burned her lungs with each breath. Mattie pulled her hood closed around her face.
When she reached the river, she stood and gazed at the area of cleared ice with mounds of piled snow along its edges. She and Luke had skated here just a few hours earlier. It had seemed a friendly place then. Now it looked lonely and unreal. She shuddered.
Her thoughts returned to the days when she and Alex and the Haspers had all skated here. She could still hear the laughter and the challenges to race. She smiled. Her mind then wandered to other childhood memories. It was here that she had made other friends too. She and Alex had worked hard to clear the ice. It had been his birthday, and children from school had joined him here. They'd been nice and even included his little sister in their play. After skating they'd built a snow house, then sat and talked about childish things—the puppy one boy hoped to get, the test they'd had that day, and the new teacher who was arriving the following day. Her mother had brought them hot chocolate, and they drank it together. It had been a good day.
Mattie still felt the warmth of her childhood. Alex had been a good brother. He'd often included her and never acted as if he was better than her just because she was “the little sister.” The empty place he'd left inside her when he died was still there. She knew it would always exist. Oh, how she missed him. Why did he have to die?
A wolf's howl cut through the still night air. Mattie straightened and listened. Another cry carried over the dark world, and then quiet took hold once more.
Other memories flooded in. She'd had many good days at the river. Her mother had taught her how to swim, right here in this very spot. Here she and Alex had often fished together. She remembered how patient he'd been when he showed her how to bait the line and cast. When she pulled in her first fish, he'd been as proud as if he'd caught it himself.
She'd also spent many hours picking berries. Usually she went with Atuska, who gathered plants for her remedies. After returning to the house, her grandmother would prepare the berries. She dried some and canned others, and she would always patiently show Mattie how to dry and store the plants for the medicines.
Suddenly Mattie felt a sharp and unexpected connection with this place. Did she really want to leave, to forget? Would her children miss something extraordinary if she and Luke moved away? They'd never hear the sound of a wolf's cry in the night, or see the dance of the Northern Lights, or feel the thrill of flying across the snow on a sled towed by an eager dog team. Maybe living here was more a gift than a curse.
Chapter 27
MATTIE LINGERED. SHE'D CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF WHO SHE WAS AND WANTED to know more. She scooped up a handful of snow, pressed it into a ball, and threw it at a nearby tree. It splattered as it hit the trunk, leaving a splotch of white. She felt a swell of pleasure. Maybe she did belong here.
A long, lonely howl of a wolf traveled across the river. The mournful tune reached a high pitch, then slid downward. It was answered by another wail not far away. The calls sounded wretched and lonely.
Mattie wasn't frightened. She'd heard the wolves many times. Their voices gave her a sense of reminiscence. They belonged here.
Another melancholy cry echoed over the harsh landscape, this one closer than the first. Mattie glanced back the way she'd come. She was a fair distance from the house, more isolated than she'd realized.
I should go back, she thought, but didn't feel ready to leave. Instead, she laid her head back and stared at the night sky. The moon's light illuminated the dark canopy, while stars glimmered dimly, enfolded in a misty gauze. Then a heavy cloud drifted over the moon, and the countryside was plunged into darkness. A cold draft of air moved over the earth. It was time to go.
Unable to see well, Mattie started back, her mind still full of questions. What would her life be like if she and Luke stayed in the valley? Had people's attitudes changed enough to offer a peaceful life to native Alaskans? She knew it was impossible to change everyone's mindset, but maybe enough transformation had taken place to make life more hospitable. Since leaving Seattle, no one had caused her trouble.
In some ways her childhood in Alaska had been magical. She had loved so much of it. Maybe Luke could be a shield against people's intolerance, and he was right about hardships being everywhere. No one could escape the ups and downs of living. Life had its sorrows.
A wolf called, then another and another. They were close. Mattie hurried her steps. Wolves rarely attacked humans, but it would be wise to avoid a confrontation. Placing her feet carefully, she hurried home, wishing the moon would reappear. The light would make it easier and faster to find her way.
Another lament from a nearby wolf raised the hairs on her neck. It sounded like it was between her and the house. She stopped to listen, searching for the lights of home.
She saw a shadow shift in the trees and her heart hurried. If the wolves were between her and the house, she could be in trouble. What was the best way to go? She gazed into the dark night. Father, help me, she prayed.
As if in answer, the clouds drifted, and again the bright orb lit the world. A wolf stood no more than ten yards away, its mouth open and tongue lolling. Its tail lay still and quiet. His nonaggressive stance gave Mattie a modicum of peace. However, her confidence quickly evaporated when she spotted others pacing among the trees.
She could see the cabin now, but if these wolves were hungry and after a meal, it was too far away. She couldn't run. That would only set off their instinct to chase and kill. She'd never make it. Could she frighten them by yelling? Hostility might ignite aggression. She decided her best course was to remain calm and act unafraid. Keeping an eye on the animals, she kept moving.
Using a soothing tone, she chatted amiably. “It's a nice evening for a walk, and I'm sure you wouldn't find me interesting at all, so you'd better just go your way and let me go mine.” To her left, she heard a menacing growl. Her eyes darted to the shadows. A wolf watched her, his tail raised and teeth barred. The cabin seemed far away.
“Don't get tough with me,” she said. “You'll find me a better warrior than you think. I'm small but ferocious.” She picked up a stubby limb and kept moving. “You'd better keep your distance.”
She could see six or seven wolves padding in the shadows among the trees. They were closing in. Pushing down panic, Mattie tried to remember everything she knew about wolves. They aren't really dangerous to humans. They are not aggressive toward people, she told herself.
The snow gave as she stepped into a hole and nearly fell. Quickly regaining her footing, she fought the desire to stop and press her back against a tree and brandish her weapon. Terrifying stories of wolf attacks tumbled through her mind. Those were just stories. There's no truth to them. She resumed talking. “Now, wolves, you don't really want to eat me. I'm not good tasting at all.”
One of the animals veered in close, tail raised, hackles up, and snarling. “Get back!” she yelled in her biggest voice. “Stay back!” The wolf stopped. He stared at her. She glanced at the limb she held. It wasn't heavy enough. Mattie scanned the area for something sturdier. Spotting a short, heavy branch, she moved toward it. Keeping her eyes on the circling wolves, she slowly bent and grabbed hold of the thick limb, dropping the other. Extending it toward the nearest wolf, she said, “Stay back, or you'll feel this across the side of your head.”
The animal stared and growled, then took a step toward Mattie. She couldn't believe this was happening. She'd never known anyone who'd actually been attacked before. They must be very hungry. The picture of the dying moose she'd seen filled her mind, and she shuddered.
Mattie searched for a tree to climb. A cottonwood was only a few steps away, its lowest branches within reach. Getting out of the animals' reach quickly wouldn't be easy. If the pack was intent on attacking, they would be on her the moment she tried to escape. Another wolf moved in, its head down and teeth bared. She had no choice. She took a step toward the tree. The wolf followed.
A rifle blast exploded. Mattie flinched. A second shot resounded.
Luke shouted. “Go on! Get! Get out of here!”
The wolves retreated into the darkness. Continuing to holler at them, Luke followed, galloping through thigh-high snow.
Letting out her breath, Mattie lowered her weapon. Her legs felt weak and she trembled.
Firing two more shots, Luke turned and trudged back to Mattie. “You all right?”
“Yes. Just scared. If you hadn't shown up…” She couldn't bring herself to finish the statement.
“I told you not to come out here.” Luke sounded angry.
Mattie didn't want to fight. “I know. Let's go back inside.”
“You could have been killed,” he yelled.
“Yes, I know.” She glanced in the direction the pack had headed. “I've lived here all my life and never had a problem with wolves. Why should I expect it now?” She looked at the club she'd been gripping and dropped it. “We don't know if they would have hurt me. Maybe they were just curious.”
“Curious, my foot. They meant to have you as a midnight snack.” His bluster wavered and he hugged her. “I'm just thankful you're all right.”
