Brides of Alaska (53 page)

Rita's dogs were taken in crates to the airport, but not before she gave each one a heartfelt thank you. Dandy seemed to sense that he'd done quite well and jumped up and down in his harness until Rita finally calmed him down. She stood watching the transport truck disappear down the road when she felt familiar hands on her shoulders.

“Hi, Seventeen,” Mark's deep voice called out in the silence.

Rita turned quickly. At least calling her Seventeen wouldn't require an explanation. “Mark! I wondered where you went. Thanks for the help with the dogs. I still can't believe I really finished the race.”

“No problem,” Mark replied, acting as though their earlier conversation had never taken place. “I did want to point out, however, that you weren't there to greet me as I crossed the finish line.” His teasing nature was infectious.

Rita couldn't help but grin. “I know, Number Five. I guess next year I'll just have to rectify that problem.”

“Next year?” Mark questioned with a chuckle. “What makes you think I'll let you come next year?”

“What makes you presume that you'll have any say?” Rita's determined look made Mark back down with a laugh.

“I guess we can discuss it later,” he added.

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Rita replied and picked up the bag of things she'd decided to keep with her rather than ship back home. “I'm staying with my aunt, Julie Curtiss. I'm sure you'd be welcome to drop over.”

“Maybe I will,” Mark answered. “We'll see.”

Rita followed her aunt Julie up the long shoveled walkway, grateful that she'd finally be able to take a hot shower and sleep in a real bed.

Julie unlocked the door of her two-storied house and ushered her niece inside; the pungent aroma of flowers filled the air.

“Umm,” Rita said, putting her bag down on the entryway floor. “It smells like a florist shop in here.”

“It should,” Julie replied and led Rita to the living room, where flowers and potted plants graced every tabletop.

“They're beautiful!” Rita exclaimed. “Where did they all come from?”

“Sam's funeral,” Julie said softly. “He died the day you started the Iditarod.”

Rita dropped quietly into a nearby chair. “Dead? Uncle Sam is dead?”

Julie pulled off her heavy coat and cast it aside. “Yes. I know it's hard to believe. I wish there could have been an easier way to tell you.” Julie couldn't help but sympathize with the great shock her niece had just been dealt. August hadn't handled it any better when Julie had telephoned him with the news.

“It's hard for me to accept because it feels as though he's right here. His things are still here. His guitar still sits in its case against the wall. His reading glasses are still on the table over there,” Julie said and pointed.

“Wha–what happened?” Rita asked as tears spilled down her cheeks.

“He died in his sleep, Rita.” Julie smiled. “We'd had a wonderful evening with friends and had come home to discuss you and the race. Sam bet you'd place in the top twenty and, sure enough, here you are. Then we climbed into bed, talked some more, and held each other close. When I woke up in the morning, he was gone.”

“You talk about it so calmly,” Rita sobbed. “I don't know how you bear it.”

“Sam's not all that far away,” Julie answered. “He's not gone forever … he's just waiting in heaven.”

Rita nodded. “But you're here, Aunt Julie.”

Julie smiled and eased back against the chair. “Yes, that is the hard part. I must wait and join him later. But you know, a long time ago, when I traveled the old village trails as a public health nurse, Sam often had to wait for me here at home.

“I remember how hard the separation was and how eagerly I would hurry home to be with him again. Sam always kept a light burning for me in the window … it was our way of letting the other one know that we'd not forgotten them.” Julie got up and crossed the room. She pulled back heavy drapery to reveal a small lamp. Its soft glowing bulb burned as a bright reminder that Sam was not forgotten.

“I know that Sam's burning one for me in heaven,” Julie said, with a single tear touching her wrinkled cheek. “I'll make my way home when the time is right.”

Rita rushed to her aunt and held her. “Oh Aunt Julie, I'm so sorry he's gone. I loved him a great deal. He always made me laugh.” Her voice broke into sobs. “I'm sorry that I'm not offering you comfort … blubbering as I am.”

“It's all right, Rita. I miss him, too. I didn't say it was easy. But at least I know where he is.”

Rita nodded and pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Aunt Julie, I asked Jesus to be my Savior.” The sudden revelation seemed fitting.

Julie's face lit up with such joy that Rita thought she would shout. “I've prayed that you would. Now you don't have to worry about death. Not Sam's or mine, or even your mom's or dad's. You'll see us again in heaven and you don't need to fear life or death.”

Rita shook her head. “I want it to be that real to me, Aunt Julie, but …”

“But?”

Rita led Julie to the sofa, where both women dropped wearily.

“But, I don't feel anything really different. Oh, I think I feel peace. You know, the kind of peace that you get when you stop fighting something and give in. You're still not sure you understand what you're getting yourself into, but you feel better in just having done something.”

Julie laughed. “Oh Rita, I do understand. Let me assure you, God is very much alive and working in your heart. Your salvation is quite real.”

Rita shook her head. “I want to believe that. I said the words and I believed them true. It's just that I don't know what comes next. Doesn't that sound stupid? I mean, here I am, a church kid who spent a lifetime involved in Sunday school and Bible memory contests, but I don't know what to do next or how to find out.”

Julie took Rita's hand in her own aged one. “Rita, God loves you. You understand this, don't you?”

“Of course,” Rita replied.

“No, I mean,” Julie reemphasized the words, “God loves
you
, Rita. God loves Rita Eriksson.”

Rita's puzzled look caused Julie to continue. “God knows you better than you know yourself, Rita. He formed you in your mother's womb and molded you into the person you became. He patiently waited for you to turn back to Him and, because He loved you, Rita, He gave you a way back through Jesus. You can count on that way to be real, and even though you can't see the bridge that Jesus' sacrifice gave you, it's there.

“It's that old issue of trust,” Julie continued. “God has given many promises in the Bible. You don't have to worry that some are true and others aren't. God didn't allow the Word to be created for some kind of show. It's genuine and real, and it offers you all the guidance and hope that you will ever need. You must have the faith to accept God's gift and live for Him.”

Rita nodded slowly. “I guess my faith is very weak.”

“No, Rita,” Julie said, squeezing Rita's hand. “It's just newborn. It's tiny and small but very much alive and surprisingly strong. Give it time and it will grow as you feed on the Word and rest in the Lord. Now,” Julie said as she glanced at the clock on her wall, “catching up on everything else will wait. You need to go to bed. Come along.”

Julie showed Rita to her room and gave her a kiss on the cheek before closing the door. Rita shed her coveralls and dropped to her knees. “Oh God, thank You for Aunt Julie. She's such a strong and wise woman. I want to know You like she does and I want my faith to grow.” Rita started to get to her feet but stopped. “And, Lord, please help her not to be lonely without Uncle Sam. Amen.”

T
he next day Rita answered the door of her aunt Julie's house while her aunt prepared breakfast in the kitchen.

A young man stood holding a white box and clipboard. “I have a delivery for Rita Eriksson,” he said as he studied the paper.

“That's me,” Rita replied and signed for the delivery. She tipped the delivery man and went back to the warmth of her aunt's kitchen.

“Just what we need,” Rita mused, “more flowers.”

“Who are they from?” Julie questioned as she loaded the table with more food than she or Rita could possibly finish.

“I don't know,” Rita replied and opened the large box. Inside was a stately-looking white Stetson hat. “Well, what do you know,” Rita gasped, staring at the hat.

Julie peered over her shoulder. “We've better use for that than flowers. Who's it from?”

Rita couldn't speak for a moment. She knew full well who the hat was from, but it would be impossible to explain to Julie. “Here's the card,” Rita finally replied. “It says, ‘Congratulations, Texas Rita. What's so far-fetched about—'” Rita fell silent as she glanced over the words that followed.

“What's so far-fetched about what?” Julie inquired, joining Rita at the table. “And what's with the Texas Rita stuff?”

Rita shook her head. The gift was from Mark and he wanted to know what was so far-fetched about their planning a wedding. How could Rita explain that to her aunt?

“It's nothing, Julie,” she said and put the card in her pocket. “It's from Mark and he's just giving me a hard time because I once mentioned wanting to move to Texas.”

“He's a good man, Rita.” Julie's words were true and Rita knew it full well.

“I know,” she finally murmured and waited for Julie to pray over their food.

Julie sensed Rita's reluctance to discuss the matter any more. Instead, she prayed a short blessing and offered her niece breakfast.

Rita felt relief to see that Julie was willing to drop the matter. Now, if only she could avoid Mark. There was no way she'd be able to face him and discuss anything rationally.

There were several parties and presentations at which Rita would have to be present. Of course, she could always feign being sick, but that would go against her newfound principles. Besides, it would no doubt bring Mark to her side, and in the privacy of her aunt's home, Rita knew it would be more than she could bear.

Rita made plans for her trip back to Anchorage amidst meeting her obligations in finishing the formalities of the race. There was a party she was to attend that would honor all those who'd run the race. Julie had agreed to accompany Rita, but on the night of the party, Julie was sick in bed with a bad cold.

“I'll be just fine, Rita,” Julie chided her niece. “You go to the party and have fun. I'm just being cautious with myself, knowing how easily I seem to contract pneumonia.”

“But I could stay here and take care of you,” Rita said, nearly pleading. She was desperate to stay out of Mark's reach.

“I wouldn't hear of it. You've earned your laurels. I insist you go and party with your friends and have a good time. I'm sure if you called Mark at the hotel, he'd be more than happy to come escort you to the party,” Julie added.