Breaking the Ice (14 page)

Bryson’s cheeks colored slightly. “If you mean what else occupies my time, mostly music. I play drums now and then with a little group at the Den and also dabble in photography, but I’m still learning.”

“Did you take those?” She indicated the grouping of aerial photos. “They’re quite good.”

The blush deepened. “Well, it’s hard not to get a few keepers when you have these awesome views. What do you do, besides your work as a nurse?”

“Nothing worth mentioning. My friend Stella and I play tennis and golf, though neither of us is very good at either. It’s just an excuse to get outside and exercise.”

“Lots of good places to hike around here. You should see some of the scenery.”

“I may do that if I stick around a while. Which all depends on whether Maggie will want me to.” The room had warmed enough for her to comfortably shed the quilt. She rose and walked to the front window. It was growing dark, but the storm was still intense. “Do you think Lars will make it back to get me?”

“Sleet won’t stop him. The skiff has lights and a covered cockpit, and he’s seen a lot worse, believe me.”

“Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

“Give him time. He’s gotta smooth things with Maggie, and I bet he has to pick up the place. She’s kind of a neat freak, and it’s been tough for her to keep up with everything the last month or so.”

“The cleanliness bug must be hereditary.” Karla chuckled. “Mom was, too, and I tend to be that way myself.”

“I’m curious to see what else you two have in common.”

“You and me both. You can’t imagine how weird it is to suddenly find out you have a sister you never knew about.”

“Couldn’t have a better one than Maggie. She’s one of the sweetest women I know.” Bryson smiled. “At least when she’s not pregnant.”

Karla returned to the couch. “That bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say Lars has learned to tread
very
lightly around her these days. She’s become fond of throwing dishes and food at him.”

“I hope she’s okay with the idea of my coming to stay with them.”

Bryson leaned her head against the back of the futon and stretched out her legs. “Lars’ll make it all right.”

Maybe Karla had judged Bryson a little too harshly. Her home and interests reflected an artistic, sensitive soul, one who cared deeply about animals and the environment. She was evidently very loyal to her friends, and now here she was, putting up a stranger and helping pave the way for her meeting Maggie, without asking anything in return. Looking back on her own behavior the night before, Karla realized she’d practically bullied Bryson into taking her along.
And what right did I have to discount the importance of her supplies?
Maybe fresh orange juice and Oreos don’t seem like much to me, but I bet I’d feel differently if I couldn’t run down to the corner store and get them whenever I wanted.
She’d give her the benefit of the doubt and chalk it up to a bad first impression, heightened by fatigue and preoccupation.

Why, then, didn’t such an attractive woman have a partner? Sure, she lived primitively, and out in the middle of nowhere, but the cabin was warm and welcoming. Why hadn’t someone snapped her up long before now?

The waitress at the Den and the gate attendant in Fairbanks both had shown a definite interest in Bryson, but neither seemed to have captured her attention. Had she had an Abby in her life too, someone who’d broken her heart and left her unable to trust again?

“Looks like he’s been held up,” Bryson said, when an hour had passed with no sign of Lars. “I’m starving. You?”

“No, thanks. I had a sandwich back at the Den, and my stomach is in knots from the thought of meeting Maggie.”

“Understandable.” Bryson went to the kitchen and pulled down a deep iron skillet hanging from a peg over the sink. She poured some oil into it and set it on the woodstove. “Think you’ll change your mind, though, when you get a whiff of this. Nothing like moose stew to warm you up on a chilly night.”

“
Moose?
”

Bryson knelt by a trapdoor in a corner of the cabin and pulled out a square plastic food container. Bits of hay were stuck to it. “Made a batch the other night that’ll warm up quick. Moose tastes kinda like beef, only more tender, and it’s better for you than any steak you’d buy. Not much fat. No additives.”

“If you say so. But I still think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t know what you’re missing.” Bryson dumped the contents of the container into the skillet and stirred it with a big wooden spoon. “Up here we eat a lot of it, along with salmon and caribou. Regular groceries have to be trucked or flown in, so they’re about double what you probably pay.”

“Well, if you get a craving for something you can’t find here, let me know. When I get home, I’ll ship it to you. To say thanks for what you’ve done for me.”

Bryson looked up from her cooking with a surprised smile. “Might take you up on that. How long you staying, by the way? Any chance you’ll be here until the baby’s born?”

“Probably not that long. But my job would be okay with it. I’m on a leave of absence right now, and I’ve accrued a lot of vacation time. It all depends on whether Lars and Maggie want me to.”

“Bet they will. Not much in the way of trained medical help around. Lars would feel better having a nurse close by right now.”

The moose stew smelled better than it sounded. Karla’s stomach rumbled when Bryson returned to the couch with a large bowl of the stuff.

“Hungrier than you thought, huh?” Bryson grinned. “Come on, live dangerously. Least take a taste and see how you like it.” She held out the bowl.

“Just to satisfy my curiosity.” Karla scooped out a small spoonful. Then a larger one, just to make certain it was as fabulous as her taste buds said it was. “Okay, I’m sold. Do you have enough for me?”

“Plenty. Keep that. I’ll get another.” Bryson ladled herself a portion and they sat side by side on the couch, eating in easy silence until both bowls were empty.

While Bryson did the dishes, Karla perused the titles in her bookshelves. The wide assortment of nonfiction included books on flying, Alaska, wildlife, and the environment, but most were novels, sorted according to type. Four shelves of mysteries, five of suspense and intrigue, five more that appeared to be romances, and…
what do we have here?
Eight shelves of lesbian literature. The representation was impressive, especially considering where she lived. Most of Karla’s personal favorites were included.

Bryson’s extensive library indicated she was a bright, inquisitive woman with a definite fondness for old-fashioned romanticism, and once again Karla wondered why she didn’t have a partner. She turned to study Bryson, who was stowing their bowls back in a cabinet.

It’d been years since she’d really looked at another woman with
that
kind of assessment, but it didn’t take long to judge Bryson as prime material. She was easy to talk to, had a good sense of humor, and she exuded an open honesty that was refreshing, especially after Abby’s duplicity. And it certainly didn’t hurt that Bryson looked as though she’d just stepped off a recruiting poster for sexy hot pilots who can take you places you’ve never been before.

Yes, Bryson was quite a catch. Karla could see that now. And though her current scrutiny had been born out of a general curiosity about why Bryson was single, it was igniting something very personal. With everything else she had to deal with, Karla would not have thought herself capable of sexual fantasies about anyone right now. But there was something raw and intensely alive about Bryson that jerked her from the numb fog of her grief. She felt guilty enjoying a long, lingering look at Bryson’s exquisitely toned physique, but she also felt a ripple of happiness. Something had stirred inside her, if only briefly, reminding her that it was possible to heal. She wasn’t broken, just bruised.

“You said Lars told you pretty much everything. Did he include the fact that you and I have something in common?”

Bryson paused and looked at her, forehead furrowed. “We do?”

A sharp rap on the door precluded any further discussion. Bryson went to admit Lars, who shook a heavy coating of sleet from his clothes before he stepped inside.

“Hey, ladies.”

“Wondering if you’d make it back tonight.” Bryson took his coat and hung it from a peg by the door as Lars walked to the woodstove to warm his hands.

“It took a while to get Maggie to agree to have a houseguest.” He smiled encouragingly at Karla. “Place was a mess, and I had to clean it up first. Plus I think she was a little stir-crazy, cooped up a couple days without me.”

“But she’s all right with it?” Karla asked as she and Bryson both reclaimed their seats on the couch.

“Yeah. I convinced her having a nurse around for a few days would make me more comfortable about having the baby at home.” He took the futon chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. “I was thinking on the way, how will you avoid telling her about the Alzheimer’s? She’ll want to know how your mom died. She can’t have been very old.”

“No, she wasn’t. She died just a couple weeks before she would have turned fifty-seven.” The memory of her mother in the coffin, dressed in her cream-colored birthday dress, flashed into her mind, and she prayed that one day it wouldn’t be the first image she recalled at the mention of her name. That she could remember first the way she laughed at Karla’s adolescent knock-knock jokes, or the proud look on her face whenever she brought home a report card with straight A’s.

“Even though it was the Alzheimer’s that really killed her—it shuts down the functions of the brain, which impacts the rest of the body—the cause of death was listed as probable heart failure. I didn’t want to have an autopsy done. It wasn’t necessary. So that’s all I’ll tell Maggie for now. That she passed away in her sleep, very suddenly. If she asks me questions about the last few years, what Mom was like, or anything—well, I’ll just have to deal with those as they come.”

“Okay,” Lars said. “I hate having to hide this from her. It tears me up, really, because we’ve always been completely honest with each other. But I don’t want her worrying about this right now. It might hurt her or the baby. Could it?”

“Stress can profoundly impact the body. It can compromise your immune system, disrupt sleep, impact the digestive tract, cause all sorts of other issues. It’s definitely best to wait to tell her.”

“Anything I can do?” Bryson offered.

“Not for me,” Karla said. “Thanks for the ride and the hospitality.”

“I’ll give you a ring if I can use some backup with Mags,” Lars told Bryson as he got to his feet. “Karla, you ready to do this?”

“Guess I better be.” Her heart began to pound. The time had finally come. She took her coat and bomber cap from the peg by the door and put them on, trying not to appear as nervous and unsteady on her feet as she felt.

“I’ll walk you down.” Bryson reached for her coat as Lars did the same.

They trooped down the trail in silence, Lars in the lead carrying Karla’s duffel. The ground was white, and the sleet was still pelting down hard.

As Lars tossed her bag on deck and climbed up to start the engine, Karla felt a tug at her elbow and turned to face Bryson. It was too dark to make out her features clearly.

“Good luck,” Bryson said. “I mean that. Sorry we kinda got off on the wrong foot.”

“That was much more my fault than yours, Bryson.” Karla was grateful for the darkness, because she could feel the burn of shame and embarrassment on her face and neck. She’d so misjudged Bryson. “I can see why Lars and Maggie think so highly of you. Sorry I was such a bitch last night. Got a lot on my mind, not that that’s any excuse.”

Bryson’s voice softened. “No problem. I know you’ve had a rough go lately, but keep your chin up. Maggie’s the best. So’s Lars. Things are looking up for you. I know it.”

Karla let Lars help her into the skiff and waved good-bye to Bryson as they headed upriver, feeling a bit like she was letting go of a life preserver before she’d reached safe water. She hoped to God Bryson was right.

*

Bryson stood at the edge of the river long after the skiff had disappeared from view.
You’re not so bad after all, Karla Edwards.
Except for Lars and Maggie, Karla had been the first person she’d had in her cabin in months, and though brief, the visit had reinforced her growing sense of isolation and loneliness.

She wasn’t looking forward to freeze-up, the fast-approaching period when flying home would be impossible for days, perhaps weeks. She could stay in Bettles for the interim as she usually did—certainly the best option business-wise. Though all backcountry travel was suspended, she could continue to run flights to any improved airstrips. And staying in the Den gave her limitless opportunities to socialize with friends.

Or she could remain at home, where her only possibility for interaction with others would be a long hike to see Maggie and Lars. And Karla, if she stuck around
.
They might need me, she told herself. Not that she’d had any medical training beyond basic first aid, or any experience whatsoever with babies. But with Maggie virtually incapacitated, perhaps Lars could use a hand with cooking or cleaning. Or chopping wood and doing laundry.

The decision came more easily than she expected. Lars and Maggie had been there for her more times than she could count, and she would stay put and return the favor. As she trudged back up the trail to her cabin, she realized that sticking close to home would also likely entail spending more time with Karla, and that prospect wasn’t quite as disagreeable as it had been.
Darn. Meant to ask her what it is we have in common.