Brides of Alaska (42 page)

It reminded Rita of the parable of the sower. The seeds that fell upon the rocky soil couldn't take deep root. She shook off the image, wondering why she'd even thought of it. No doubt eighteen years of Bible stories and Sunday school had to exist in memory somewhere. Sending the reminder of her mother and father's faith deeper within the dark recesses of her memories, Rita pressed on to keep pace with Mark.

Without warning, a snowshoe hare darted out across the trail, causing Rita's team to take off in a free-for-all chase. Rita struggled to keep her grip on the sled's handlebars. She wouldn't forgive herself if she lost her team, especially in front of Mark.

“Gee, Dandy!” she yelled above the barking huskies, trying to tell her dogs to go back around to the right. By now, they were nearly heading in the opposite direction from which Rita and Mark had been making their way. “Come gee! Dandy, come gee!” Rita called out. When Dandy finally heard his mistress's instructions, he managed to direct the team back to the trail, much to the disappointment of the other ten dogs behind him.

Rita tried not to look flustered, but she was keenly aware that Mark watched and evaluated her every move from where he'd brought his own dogs to a stop back on the trail. Expecting some sarcastic comment regarding the incident, Rita was surprised when Mark turned back around and called out the command that sent his dogs forward. Breathing a sigh of relief, Rita tried to be more prepared for any more interferences with her team.

Shortly before the last bits of muted sunlight faded from the sky, Mark brought them, without further mishap, to the place he'd planned for their first night on the trail.

Rita put up her small domed tent only after seeing to the needs of her dogs. August had explained to her on many occasions that the dogs were her life's blood on the trail. Taking care of them first insured that they'd be in prime condition to take care of her later.

Rita found spruce boughs and made beds for each of her dogs, while a roaring fire heated up August's personal choice of dog food. It was a hearty combination of commercial dog food blended with beef liver, vegetable oil, and eggs. All were chosen to give the highest degree of benefit to the active sled dogs.

With the dogs now fed and sleeping in fuzzy balls to ward off the minus-twenty-degree winds, Rita found herself able to settle down to preparing her own supper.

“I've already got the stew on the fire,” Mark offered when he spied Rita digging into the food packs.

“I'm glad,” Rita replied, plopping down beside the fire. “I'm absolutely starved.” It felt good to sit and rest, even in frosty air that stung her eyes.

“I'd kind of like some coffee,” Mark said, pulling out a zippered bag of instant coffee.

“That does sound good,” Rita agreed. While Mark found cups, Rita studied the surroundings. She realized how perfect their camp was. They were sheltered from the wind by a rocky ridge that followed the river for a short way. This was coupled with the canopy of spruce trees that lined the river.

They also had water—even if they did have to break the surface ice with an ax. With a little more effort, they soon had enough firewood to enjoy the evening, allowing both of them to sit back and bask in the warmth. Mark had been very wise to choose this place, Rita decided. A part of her wanted to tell him so; another part warned her not to make any kind of comment that betrayed her emotions.

Supper passed in relative silence. Mark seemed content to enjoy the quiet and the meal, while Rita nervously wondered how to relate to her traveling companion. Before their talk had always revolved around sledding, dogs, and the Iditarod. What if she were required to talk of something more?

As if reading her mind, Mark began to speak. “You know it's hard to sit out here in the middle of nowhere with all of this monumental beauty around you and not be in awe of it.”

“It is impressive,” Rita agreed in a guarded tone. “It makes it hard to consider leaving.”

“Leaving?” Mark questioned. “Where would you go?”

Rita shrugged. “I don't know. I've thought about moving to Texas.”

Mark chuckled. “Cowboys and oil wells instead of dogsleds and snow?”

“I don't know. It was just a thought,” Rita replied. “I've always liked the things I've read about it. Lots of sunshine and wide open spaces. You can have it rustic and rural or live it up in the glamorous city night life. I guess Texas has a little bit of everything.”

“Maybe I could call you ‘Texas Rita,'” Mark joked, but Rita just lifted her chin defiantly.

“Maybe you wouldn't need to call me anything.”

Mark hid his smile and turned away from Rita. There was no sense in irritating her further. “Look,” Mark said and pointed to a glowing green light that loomed up from the horizon and grew in size until it seemed to fill the sky.

Rita watched as it changed in shape and size. The green soon gave way to a more prominent outline of pink and then, as the color intensified and darkened to a reddish hue, yellow fiery flickers sent fingers upward through the image to paint the sky.

“The northern lights,” Rita commented as she watched the night show. “I've always loved them.”

“I just don't know how anyone could watch them and doubt the existence of God,” Mark said in a low, husky whisper.

“What's God have to do with it?” Rita said rather flippantly. “It's a natural phenomenon. I read all about it and it has something to do with the sun.”

Mark turned from the light show to study Rita a moment before replying. “I don't understand how you could have spent years in church and fellowship with other Christians and say such a shallow thing.”

Rita instantly felt defensive. Obviously, Mark was yet another devout Christian. Why hadn't she considered that before? There wouldn't have been any way at all that her father would have taken on a less than fully devoted man of God as his partner. Oh, she knew her father had told her Mark was a good man and a Christian, but since Mark had never bothered to make it an issue with her, Rita had felt safe to let things lie undisturbed.

“Look,” Rita said with only the slightest hint of irritation in her voice, “I've tried to look at things like my folks, and apparently you do. I've joined all the groups, read all the Bible handouts, prayed all the prayers, and held my head just so when the minister preached his sermons. I've spent a lifetime being preached at, prayed at, and talked at and, as shallow as it might seem to you, I just don't feel the same way you do.”

“I think that's the most honesty you've given me since we met,” Mark remarked in a way Rita hadn't expected. It so flabbergasted Rita that she said nothing as Mark continued. “I know how hard it is to feel like God is real. I went through a bad time of that myself. People kept saying, ‘Well, if you just believed the way you should, you'd understand.' Then they'd all kind of stand around with this knowing look, all nodding at each other like I'd missed the joke. I hated it.”

“Exactly,” Rita said, totally amazed that Mark actually had put her feelings into words. “Or they give you that little shake of their head, where you can practically hear the ‘Tsk, tsk' under their breath, and they talk about turning you over to God to be dealt with. Like you were a sack of potatoes that needed to be washed up for dinner.”

Mark chuckled out loud, momentarily breaking the tension. “My favorite one was when they'd tell me that my faith wasn't strong enough. Just have faith, they'd say. Faith is the key. Faith is the answer. Faith is your foundation. And then they'd never tell me how it was I was supposed to get it, keep it, or understand it.”

“I can't believe we're having this conversation,” Rita said suddenly. “My parents would never understand. Especially my mother.”

“You and your mom have a difficult relationship, don't you?” Mark spoke the words hesitantly. He worried that if he prodded Rita to reveal too much, too soon, she'd bolt and run like a frightened deer.

“That's the understatement of the century. Negotiating peace among warring nations would be a simpler project than dealing with our relationship,” Rita retorted.

“I would imagine that makes it quite difficult for you.” Mark's words pulled Rita out of her defensive mode for once in her life.

“That's really the first time anyone has ever mentioned that our relationship might be hard on me. Usually, there's all this sympathy for my mother,” Rita stated with a sadness to her voice. “She has a prayer group … you know the type. It's made up of the local church women and they all pray for the issues of the day. My mother never hesitates to tell me that they've been praying for me for roughly the last twenty-some years. It's no wonder that people see things her way. She probably goes to the meetings and pours out her heart and cries her miseries of life with a difficult child. It drove me from home and now that I'm back, nothing has changed.”

“And exactly what is it that hasn't changed?” Mark asked, throwing another log on the fire.

Rita grew quiet for a moment, and Mark thought for certain he'd pushed her too far. When she finally spoke, he realized he'd been holding his breath and exhaled rather loudly.

“My mother can't deal with me as a daughter. I'm nothing more to her than a challenge. A soul to win to God so that her tally sheet is complete when she stands before her King. She's never cared for me as a mother would a child, and I resent the only concern she bears for me is that which is on the behalf of another.”

“And this is also why you resist a relationship with God?” Mark asked without thinking.

“I picked up the Bible as a young girl,” Rita said, turning. Mark's expression was gentle. “I was thinking about giving my life over to Him. I really was. But I opened the Bible to Isaiah and a verse that put me off in a way that even now causes me grief.”

“What was it?”

“It said something like, ‘As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you.' I'd never known anything but pain and frustration from my mother. Certainly not comfort. And if God was as comforting as my mother, then that meant nothing to me. I slammed the Bible shut and sulked for weeks. I had never felt more betrayed.” Rita got to her feet and walked a few steps from the fire before turning around briefly. Her eyes narrowed slightly, blinking back tears. “I'm sorry. I should never have told you these things.”

Mark watched Rita walk to the river's edge. She just stood there for several minutes, looking out as if seeking peace for her soul. He allowed her the time to compose herself before he joined her.

“I'm glad you talked to me,” he whispered at her back. “I think it helps friends to understand one another when they know each other's pain.”

“Friends?” Rita questioned, whirling around to find herself only inches from Mark. “I thought you didn't want to be my friend.”

Mark smiled through the shadowy light. Rita noted the change in his eyes. “I'd like to be much more,” Mark said before pulling Rita into his arms and kissing her.

Rita was shocked into silence and passive acceptance. She found herself enjoying the kiss, while she fought in her mind to resist the pleasure of Mark's touch. Warnings went off in her brain.
Don't get too close! Don't care too much! Don't reciprocate!

When Mark released her, Rita shook her head and took a step backward. Mark reached out to steady her as she found her foot give way on the unstable riverbank.

“Let me go,” she whispered without malice. She sidestepped Mark and felt his grip give way when her feet were fixed on firm ground. Without looking behind her, Rita hurried breathlessly to her tent and the solitude it afforded her.

R
ita returned from her sled trip more withdrawn and quiet than before. She purposefully went out of her way to avoid Mark, and very little was offered in the way of explanation.

August and Beth watched helplessly. How were they to help this child who so obviously didn't want their help? They sat alone in their kitchen one evening, long after Rita had retired for the night. Holding each other's hands as they shared a prayer, August and Beth found comfort in the Lord and each other.

“I'm really afraid for her,” Beth said after August ended the prayer. “She's so miserable and unhappy with her life. She wants to blame everyone else for her problems. Do you know that she told me she would never have bothered to come home except for the fact that her college roommate had decided to move to the lower forty-eight. Never mind the Iditarod. It was as if she couldn't accept that she'd made the choice to come home all by herself.”

“I'd hoped things would be different,” August admitted, pouring himself another cup of coffee. When he offered to pour Beth a cup, she shook her head.

“Did Mark say anything about their trip?” Beth questioned curiously.