Brides of Alaska (30 page)

She'd only said the things that needed to be said. She'd never meant to hurt August, but she couldn't be married to a man who was obviously fighting God.

The month had been miserable and rainy, leaving Gerald and Phillip bored and stuck inside. Mrs. Miller had graciously shown up to take the boys to her house, but Beth knew they were pining for August, and it was an impossible void to fill.

Then there was the constant worry of war. The Japanese still held strongholds in the Aleutians, and every day rumors fed fear and anxiety.

The army insisted there wasn't any immediate danger, yet there were practice drills from time to time, reminding everyone that the danger was close enough. Civil Defense officials spoke of blackout drills, insisting everyone have heavy curtains to place at their windows. Bethany wondered at this order, given that they were enjoying close to twenty hours of sunshine a day.

Rationing was tightened, and people were encouraged to do without and buy war bonds. Beth thought of the soldiers who labored long and hard to build the highway through Alaska. She thought them fortunate that no one was shooting at them while they worked. At least not yet.

People seemed more neighborly than ever, offering food, oil, and whatever help they could spare. In Alaska, life depended upon such generosity, but the war made their dependency upon one another more significant than ever.

The summer had been busier than Beth had expected, and it seemed there was never a moment to call her own. She had taken in laundry for highway workers, prepared baked goods for the army, and always had more requests for rooms at her roadhouse than she had rooms to offer. It kept her mind occupied for the most part, but not her heart.

Every day she passed by August's room, wanting to check whether his things were gone, and every day as she reached for the door handle, she stopped. She'd refused to rent August's room, hoping and praying that he'd return, but deep inside, Beth had lost any confidence in that possibility. Opening the door might prove once and for all that her fears were well founded.

Persistent knocking brought Beth hurrying to the front door, hoping that August had returned. The door opened to reveal Mrs. Miller, and Bethany couldn't hide a frown.

“I'm sorry, dear. Have I caught you at a bad time?” Mrs. Miller asked hesitantly.

Beth immediately felt bad for having given Mrs. Miller the wrong impression. “No, please forgive me. I'm just a bit preoccupied. Won't you come in?”

“Are you sure I'm not causing you a problem?” the older woman questioned as she followed Beth into the house.

“I'm sure. I must apologize for my demeanor these days,” Beth said as she motioned Mrs. Miller to a chair. “Would you like some refreshments? I have lemonade and ginger snaps.”

“No, I'm fine. I just wanted to visit with you. I know you haven't been yourself, and I wondered if I might help. I know how tedious widowhood can be.”

Beth smiled and swept her blond hair back over her shoulder. “You are such a dear to me, Mrs. Miller. I seriously doubt I would have made it had it not been for Granny Gantry and now you.”

“You mustn't let the past get you down.”

“It isn't that,” Beth said and bit her lower lip.

“Then what?” Mrs. Miller asked and reached across to pat Beth's hand. “I know I'm being a nosy old woman, but believe me, there are times when talking to someone who understands helps much more than keeping it bottled inside.”

Beth smoothed imaginary lines in her olive green skirt. “It isn't the widowhood that grieves me, Mrs. Miller. The problem does relate to a man, however.”

“What widow doesn't have man problems?” Mrs. Miller laughed softly. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“I've fallen in love,” Beth said matter-of-factly. “But you mustn't tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Mrs. Miller insisted. “Now, why don't you tell me about it? Perhaps you'll feel better afterwards.”

Beth poured out all the details of August's appearance in her life and how her feelings had quickly developed into love. “I care far more than I ever thought possible. When JB died, I feared I could never love another, but God has graciously allowed me to love again.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“I'm afraid I sent him packing,” Beth said sadly.

“Why? What happened?” Mrs. Miller asked in surprise.

“August has something troubling him. Something that won't allow him to feel the closeness to God that I suspect he once felt. I tried to get him to talk about it, but he grew angry and stormed off.”

“That was the day the boys helped me pick berries,” Mrs. Miller stated.

“That's right,” Beth agreed. “I felt so bad after convincing the boys that August would be here when they returned and then he wasn't. Gerald didn't even talk for two days, and when he finally opened up, all this hurt came pouring out. He felt betrayed, and I had to explain that I was responsible.”

“But you weren't,” Mrs. Miller said gently. “God is working in August's life. You were simply weeding a garden that God planted long ago. If God is striving to bring August back to the fold, you aren't responsible for anything more than living out God's goodness and standing on His Word. If that drove August away, then it is still part of God's plan.”

Beth nodded. “Yes, I'm sure you're right. But—” She paused and lowered her face. “I love him, and I'm so afraid of losing him. What if he won't ever deal with his problems?”

“If it's meant to be, it will be,” Mrs. Miller said firmly. “You must stand strong in your faith. God understands your grief and frustration. Trust Him.”

Beth studied the older woman for a moment. Her gray hair had been pinned on top of her head without a single wisp escaping its bounds. It gave Mrs. Miller an extremely well-organized look.

The plump woman was wearing a cream-colored dress with pastel flowers splotching it from neck to knee. She carried an air of respectability and solitude, yet Beth was surprised that Mrs. Miller had never remarried.

“Mrs. Miller, may I ask you something personal?”

The widow nodded. “Certainly. I can probably guess what your question will be. But I have one condition upon which I will insist.”

“And what is that?” Beth questioned.

“You must stop with the Mrs. Miller title and call me Hazel.”

Beth smiled. “I would love to, Hazel.”

“Much better. Now ask your question.”

“I just wondered why you've never remarried. After all, you live in an area where women are scarce and the companionship of a wife is highly prized and sought after.”

Hazel laughed. “That's true enough, and God knows there have been offers. Mostly men who needed a nursemaid or housekeeper though. I guess the right man never came along.”

“How do you bear the loneliness? I mean,” Beth paused trying to think of a tactful way to speak her mind. “I have the boys as well as the roadhouse, and they keep me busy, but you're down there in town all alone.”

The older woman sobered noticeably. “It does get hard, especially at night or in the winter. I've been widowed for over five years, and I don't think I'll ever get used to the winters. They're so cold, dark, and endless. The first year I would cry every time the sun set.” Her eyes took on a distant look as she remembered those haunting days.

“You don't have to go on,” Beth said sympathetically. “Unless of course you want to.”

“That's all right,” Hazel said and continued. “I know you understand. Those first months, I just wandered around trying to figure out what was what. I kept hearing my Zeke calling me, and when I'd realize it was just my imagination, my heart was heavier than ever. At night, I'd wake and reach out for him, but he was gone. When I'd come fully awake it hurt so much that I wished I'd never wake up again.”

“Oh Hazel,” Beth murmured, “I'm so sorry.”

“Sometimes I still find myself waiting for him to come home from working his trap lines, but of course he never does,” Hazel concluded.

Beth nodded. “I know. I think it would have been harder on me, if JB hadn't already been gone for so long. When he left for duty in the air force, I probably felt his absence worse. When I knew he wasn't coming back, I comforted myself in God and my children, but I still couldn't bear living in the house we'd built together.”

“I thought about leaving,” the older woman agreed, “but I wanted to stay for the very reasons that you wanted to leave. I needed to feel Zeke close at hand. I needed to know his presence at least until the pain was less. The house was a strong reminder of our love. Every scratch or nick reminded me of something Zeke and I had gone through. I needed the comfort of memories.”

“The boys are constant reminders for me,” Beth said softly. “And though both bitter and sweet, they have been my lifeline. God was so merciful to give them to me. I don't know how I could have gotten through those first days without their love. They truly sustained me.”

“Zeke and I wanted to have children,” Hazel said honestly, “but God never blessed us with any. I guess that's why I take such pleasure in your boys. They are such joys to have around and so well behaved. They are a credit to you, Beth.”

“Thank you for saying so, but teaching them manners has been the easy part. The hard part is playing both mother and father. I feel that my abilities always fall short of what they need, and now the only man they've truly known as father is gone. How can I possibly help them understand?”

“Trust God and wait, Beth. Trust God and wait,” Hazel said firmly.

Beth nodded, but her mind was ever on her sons and their broken hearts.

That night, the silence hung heavy between Beth and her boys. Dinner was eaten with little interest, and when Beth suggested a game of dominoes, the boys only gave it a half-hearted effort. When the clock in the hall chimed nine, Beth ushered her sons to their bedroom.

“Momma, when will August come back?” Gerald questioned as he got ready for bed.

“I don't know, Gerry. He has to work on the road, and that takes him far from us. I don't know if he'll be able to come back any time soon.”

“Is he mad at us?” Gerald asked in earnest.

Beth wanted to assure her son that August would never hold malice toward him or Phillip, but the words stuck in her throat. No doubt he was mad at her. He'd been so angry the night he'd left, and Beth was afraid he'd never want to see her again.

“I miss him,” Phillip piped up from his bed.

“I know. We all miss August and want him to come back.” Beth turned and made a pretense of picking up Gerald's discarded clothes to keep the boys from seeing the tears in her eyes.

“I'm going to ask God to send him back to us,” Gerald said as he knelt to say his prayers. “I love him, and I still want him to be my daddy.”

“I pray, too,” Phillip said, scooting out from under his covers. “I want Daddy.”

Beth opened the door and turned off the bedroom light. The boys' kneeling figures were illuminated by the shadowy light from the hallway.

She watched in silence as the boys prayed. Their little-boy voices lifted up pleas of love to their God, a God they trusted without doubt. Could Beth somehow do the same? Was it possible to regain the trust she'd once felt when life was more simple?

Seeing the boys safely tucked in, Beth made her way down the hall and to her desk. She'd long ago given August over to God, and there was nothing to be gained by taking him back.

Resting her head in her arms on the desk, Beth prayed for strength to endure the loneliness and for guidance for August. Wherever he was, God could reach him.

W
hen Saturday came, Bethany awoke to a strange silence. Straining her ears for the sound of her children, she was more than a little surprised to realize they were quiet.

Enjoying the warmth of her bed, Beth reasoned that the children were simply extra tired. They had, after all, spent most of the previous evening helping Mrs. Miller pick berries again.

She was just fading back into dreams of August when something caught her ear. Bolting upright in bed, Beth waited and listened. Moaning sounds came from the boys' bedroom, and Beth knew instinctively that it was Gerald.

As Beth hastily threw on a robe and tore down the hall, a feeling of dread settled over her. By the time she reached the boys' room, her hands were trembling.

“Why am I so afraid?” she whispered to the air. “Surely he's only had a bad dream.” She fought desperately to reassure herself. There was no reason for her uneasiness, yet a mother's heart told her something wasn't right.

She opened the door and found a bleary-eyed Phillip sitting beside his brother's sleeping form. All looked well, at least on the surface.

“Good morning, sweetie. How's Momma's boy?” Beth asked, fluffing her younger son's hair. Phillip scurried off the bed and into his mother's arms.