Brides of Alaska (27 page)

Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, August acknowledged that his biggest problem wasn't Beth. God was pricking his conscience.

It was the little things that got to him. Things like the way Beth would ask him to say grace or the way Gerald would talk about something from Sunday school. Sometimes it was the simple, quiet moments when August was alone in his room and the silence came over him as if roaring out God's name.

He'd not known a single moment's peace since turning away from his heavenly Father, and the turmoil within his heart only grew. August wanted to shout out for God to leave him alone, but the pressure continued, mounting day by day.

The road work took August away from Beth and the boys for longer periods of time. Sometimes he never made it home because the midnight sun allowed them to work nearly around the clock. Often, August would drop exhausted into a sleeping bag inside one of the administration's tents. The cots weren't nearly as comfortable as the bed back at the roadhouse, but as tired as he was, it wouldn't have mattered if he'd been sleeping on the ground.

Day after day the work continued. They called it “bulldozer surveying,” and it was little more than plowing a path through a place where a road had never been intended. Trees, brush, and rocks ended up in messy piles along the road, constant reminders of the haste in which the design was completed.

August would often stare for a long time at the tall spruce and birch trees, trees so thick and full that they were impossible to penetrate with the human eye. It seemed a pity to destroy them.

Dense forests were relieved by brilliant, crystal lakes so blue and inviting that August could almost forget his purpose. Glacier-fed rivers flowed in milky wonder, leaving reminders of the ice mountains that had carved the valleys.

In the distant south, snowcapped peaks rose majestically above green and blue valleys, and everywhere wildflowers carpeted the earth in colors so dazzling and radiant that words could not describe them.

“Eriksson!” a voice called above the roar of the cat's engine. August shut the motor off and climbed down.

“What's up, Bill?” August questioned, recognizing the man beneath layers of dirt and sweat.

“I'm supposed to take over your shift. Supervisor wants to see you.”

“Oh?” He wondered about the request as he went in search of Ralph Greening.

Ralph was waiting for August in his tent. “Come on in,” Ralph waved him in as he finished up a radio call. “Sorry for the interruption, but I have some good news for you.”

“Well, I'm always in the mood for good news interruptions,” August said with a smile.

“You've done a tremendous job for us, August, and I'd like to offer you a permanent position with the Public Roads Administration. You'd actually be left in charge of the Northway area after we pull out. They are going to want to establish a permanent road next year, and I can't think of a better man to leave behind.”

“I'm flattered,” August said.

“Well, you've certainly earned it,” Ralph replied as he shuffled through a stack of papers. “I'll be happy to return to the States and get away from these monstrous bugs and all this light. A body needs regular nights and days. I can't figure out how you folks put up with constant light and then endless darkness.”

“I guess when you're born here you don't give it a lot of thought. We do suffer in the winter though. It's hard to wake up in the dark, spend the day in the dark, and then go to sleep in the dark. Coupled with the cold—and I mean bitter, subzero cold—it is a problem,” August replied. “But there are winter compensations.”

“I don't intend to be here long enough to find out. We plan to have the road completed before then, and after that you can put up with it.”

Hours later, August contemplated his promotion and the full responsibility that would be his when Ralph returned to the States. Did he want to head up such a task?

As he settled down for bed, August wondered at the turn of events. Not long ago he'd thought God had deserted him. How did he feel now? Hadn't he proved to himself that he could live life without God?

He missed Beth and the boys. It had been over a week since he'd seen them. They were so important to him, and thoughts of them were never far from his mind. Did they ever think of him? Did they miss him like he missed them?

August closed his eyes, envisioning Bethany as she moved around her roadhouse. She was so gentle and pure, and her heart was devoted to God.

His heart had once belonged to God, too. August shifted uncomfortably as he thought of his efforts to put God away from him.
“But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven.”
August remembered the words of Matthew 10:33 almost against his will.

“But you took away all my dreams, God,” August argued, realizing that, for the first time in months, he was speaking to God. “You took it all: my dreams, my hopes, my family. Am I to be forsaken because I dared to think for myself, dared to make goals and dream dreams? I thought you wanted Your children to be happy. Am I to give up my dreams, even my very life, in order to be at peace with You?”

“
He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it
.” August pulled the pillow over his head as if he could block out the haunting words of Matthew 10:39. The words, however, would not be put aside. God's Word had made its home in August's heart for many years, and it would not leave just because August wished to escape its power.

A
fter spending two weeks without August in their home, Beth, Gerald, and Phillip were excited to see his weary frame coming up the path late one afternoon.

“Daddy!” Phillip announced when he spotted August. “Momma, Daddy's here!”

Beth glanced out the window, and her hands automatically smoothed back her blond hair. August was home!

Gerald went dancing out the door, rushing into August's arms. “I missed you,” he said as August whirled him around.

“And I missed you! Have you been a good boy?”

“I've been very helpful, just like you told me to be,” Gerald said as August put him down.

Phillip hurried to be next in August's arms, while Beth stood to the side of the door, wishing she had the freedom her children enjoyed.

August's eyes met hers over Phillip's back. He noticed the softness and grinned at her, causing Beth's heart to pound harder.

“And what about you?” Beth heard August ask Phillip. “Have you been a good boy?”

“Uh-huh. I been helping in the garden,” Phillip said, holding up his dirty hands. “See!”

His enthusiasm was contagious. “Yes, I see.” August said, inspecting Phillip's hands. “Since you've both been so good, I'll take you fishing tomorrow. That is, if your mother doesn't mind.”

“Can we go, Momma?” Phillip and Gerald asked in unison.

“I suppose so,” Beth replied softly. “Now, why don't you go inside and get cleaned up? It's almost suppertime.”

The boys hesitated as they looked from August to their mother and back again. “You go ahead, boys. I'll be here for a day or two.” At August's reassurance the boys disappeared into the house.

“I've missed you,” August said warmly. “I never knew how good I had it until I had to live out on the road. I've missed everything about this place.”

“Even the bugs?” Beth asked with a smile.

“The bugs are even bigger down the road. Out there we have to shoot them down rather than swat them.” August laughed and Beth joined him. When the amusement passed, silence bound them together.

“You look beautiful.” August braved the words and allowed his eyes to travel Beth's form. The dusty rose dress she wore brought out the flush in her cheeks.

Beth didn't know what to say. She was excited by August's appreciation of her appearance, yet she was troubled by the warning her mind kept flashing.

“Are you hungry?” she finally questioned, growing uncomfortable in the silence.

“Yes,” August replied. “I suppose I'm keeping you from something.”

“Only dinner,” Beth answered and opened the screen door. “Come on inside. I'll work while you tell me about the road's progress.”

“It's a deal,” August said, following Beth into the house and on to the kitchen.

“I took a moose roast out of the freezer several days ago, and we've been eating it ever since,” Beth said as she opened the oven door. “We're having moose pie tonight.”

“Moose pie?”

Beth smiled as she took the casserole from the oven. “That's right. It's moose roast cut up with eggplant, onions, egg, cheese, and seasoning. It's baked with a piecrust topping, and that's why we call it moose pie.”

“Sounds good,” August said, sitting down.

“I can fix up a mess of goose tongue greens, if you've a mind for a salad, and I have fresh sourdough bread.”

“Don't go to any more trouble than you already have,” August said.

Before Beth could answer, a knock sounded at the front door. “I'll be right back,” Beth said as she excused herself.

“What a surprise,” Beth said as she opened the door to Mrs. Miller. Ushering the woman inside, she asked, “What brings you here?”

“I know it's last-minute and totally out of line, but I was wondering if I could borrow the boys to help me gather blackberries. I've promised the army a great deal of jam, and there's a huge field of berries ready to pick.”

“Well, I'm not sure,” Beth said as she led the way back to the kitchen. “Mr. Eriksson is back, and the boys are very fond of him. I don't know if we could separate them just now.”

“I understand, but I could sure use the help. I'd be happy to pay the boys,” the older woman added as she struggled to keep up with Beth.

“Oh no, you needn't pay them,” Beth said as they entered the kitchen. In her absence, the boys had been taking turns playing with August and asking him questions.

“Boys, Mrs. Miller wants to know if you can help her pick blackberries.”

“But August just got here,” Gerald protested from August's lap.

“And I'll be here for a while,” August said and gave Gerald a reassuring pat. “Don't worry about it. You go ahead and help Mrs. Miller. We can certainly catch up on our talking tomorrow while we're fishing.”

“Well, I guess we can help,” Gerald said once he felt certain of August's presence.

“I'm afraid the boys haven't eaten yet, Mrs. Miller. Would you like to join us for supper?” Beth asked, proud that Gerald had put his own wants aside to help someone else.

“No thanks, and if you don't mind, I'd like to treat the boys to a picnic. I have sandwiches and cold drinks, as well as some special cookies that they are very fond of,” Mrs. Miller answered.

“Well, what do you say, boys? You want to have a picnic with Mrs. Miller?” August questioned before Beth could ask. “I'll bet it'll be a load of fun.”

“Really, Daddy?” Phillip asked with wide eyes.

“Why, sure. It's a beautiful evening, and Mrs. Miller makes mighty good cookies. I know 'cause she brought us some while we were working on the airstrip.”

“Okay,” Gerald said as he hopped down from August's lap. “We'll go.”

“I'm really grateful, boys,” Mrs. Miller said, motioning toward the door. “Let's hurry so we can eat before we pick the berries.”

The boys went along with Mrs. Miller, and Beth was left to face August alone.

“I guess we'll have more than enough supper,” Beth said as she finished putting the food on the table. She took a seat across from August and realized it was the first time they'd shared dinner alone. Always before they'd had the comfort of the boys to dispel any tension, but now they sat face-to-face, both seeming to know they were going to deal with more than supper.

“I'll say grace,” Beth said avoiding August's eyes. She bowed her head without waiting to see if August would and began, “Dear Father, we thank You for this meal and the fellowship we share. Bless us now and guard us in our steps. Amen.”

August held out his hand for Beth's plate, dished out a generous portion of the steaming casserole, and handed it back to her.

“Thank you,” Beth said. She wanted to say so much more, yet she felt a sense of quiet come over her, as if it were more important that August begin the conversation.

“This is real good,” August said with a nod of approval. “I've had moose steak, moose roast, moose stew, but I don't think I've ever had moose pie. I'll have to send my sister the recipe.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Beth replied between bites. Food stuck in her throat, and she remembered she hadn't set out any beverage. “I'll get us something to drink. What would you like?”

“It doesn't much matter to me. Whatever you had planned is fine,” August answered.