Under Alaskan Skies (15 page)

“I asked for it,” he said. “I told her it was my first time. I said I wanted to do it right.”

When the boys saw Carrie spreading her checkered tablecloth on the mossy ground, they came running. They chugged fruit juice from her thermos while she set thick sandwiches of tuna salad on sourdough bread on paper plates.

“This looks great,” Matt said, sitting on the edge of the cloth and taking a deviled egg from the plastic box. “No wonder fishing’s so popular up here if you get to have a lunch break like this.”

“Do you think you deserve lunch after such an unproductive morning?”

“Unproductive? I’ll have you know I’ve been thinking. I’ve never had so much time to think as I have since I came here.”

“Time to think. That must explain why we’re all so smart up here,” she said.

He grinned and tossed a stick of celery at her. For a moment the boys looked shocked at this childlike behavior, then they burst into laughter and started crumpling napkins into balls to toss at each other.

“All right,” Carrie said with a mock stern expression. “I don’t suppose you boys want me to take my food and go home, do you?” By boys it was obvious she included Matt, too.

They all protested loudly and she continued to bring out food from her basket—carrot sticks, potato chips and sweet pickles.

They ate in contented silence for a long while. Matt’s eyes were drawn to Carrie’s hand and the finger that wore the ring he’d given her. He wondered if she would wear it after he was gone. He wondered if she’d ever think of him after he was gone.

“Hey, Carrie,” Skip said. “You must like the doctor a lot to bring up this lunch for him.”

“I brought it for you, too,” she said, but Matt noticed a telltale flush spread to her cheeks.

“Yeah, but you do like him, don’t you?” Bradley said. “’Cause he likes you.”

“How do you know?” she asked, carefully avoiding Matt’s gaze.

“He told us,” Bradley said with a knowing grin.

“So you all were talking about me. What else did he say?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“He said he’s in love with you,” Bradley said, and then burst into helpless laughter at his audacity.

“He wants to marry you,” Skip added, slapping his knees.

“Boys, boys,” Matt said with mock severity. “I told you not to tell.”

“So that’s why men go fishing together, to talk about girls,” Carrie said.

“Not just you,” Matt said. “We were talking about Bradley’s girlfriend. What’s her name?”

“Jenny.”

“Hmm.” Carrie looked at Matt. “I thought you were up here thinking.”

“You can only do so much thinking, especially without brain food. Now that I’ve had one of your tuna sandwiches, I think I can do some more.”

“Here’s something to think about,” she said. “What are you going to do with all this equipment when you leave?”

“Can I leave it with you?”

“You can, but…are you sure you won’t want it someday? Someday when you have a son or a daughter. I used to come here and fish with my dad.”

“You’re lucky he got to spend so much time with you,” he said soberly. He wondered if his father had ever pondered the sacrifices he’d made to pursue his career. Not that Matt had suffered; he didn’t remember ever feeling deprived. It was his dad he felt sorry for. For missing out on his only son’s childhood.

“My dad wanted to make sure I would be self-sufficient. That I could catch my own fish and grow my own vegetables. I confess I’ve had many days like the one you’re having, where everybody catches their quota and I get nothing.”

“But you’re successful where it counts, you fly your own plane,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe you could grow vegetables up here,” Matt said.

The boys wrinkled their noses at the change of subject, helped themselves to the frosted brownies she’d brought and went to look for frogs on the other side of the pond.

“I’ll have to show you my garden. Of course it’s a short growing season, but it can be done. These pickles you’re eating? I grew the cucumbers.”

“You’re a remarkable woman,” he said.

“Because I grow cucumbers?”

He lay back on the matted moss and looked up at the sky. The gray sky that was keeping him here in Mystic.

“Not just because you grow cucumbers. You make pickles out of them. As if that wasn’t enough, you’re a pilot. You also blush at compliments. You forget your own birthday. You make delicious cinnamon rolls. I could go on.” He sat up, reached across the tablecloth and took her hands in his. He rubbed the stone in the ring he’d given her with his fingers. “When I saw this ring I thought of your eyes. I thought they were exactly the same color.” He held her hand up to her face. “I was right.”

Carrie didn’t know what to say. She’d never received such an exquisitely thoughtful present. But she didn’t want to make more of it than she should. It was just a birthday present from a man who she’d never see again. A kind of thank-you present for her hospitality. It wouldn’t do to become attached to either the ring or the man. Yes, she could keep the ring even after the man had gone, but maybe she wouldn’t ever wear it again if it brought back too many memories. She was smart enough to know there was going to be a letdown after he left. She had to be prepared.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Except thank you.” To have an excuse to pull her hands back from his, she put away the plates and the leftovers
from their picnic. “Will you be doing any more fishing?” she asked.

“Maybe not,” he said. “Casting is much harder than I ever thought. Why don’t you give me a demonstration.”

“Wait a minute. I’m not sure I remember exactly how.”

“Come on, you’re a self-sufficient Alaska woman. I want to see you do it. You don’t have to catch anything. Just cast.”

He helped her fold the tablecloth, then they went down to the edge of the water. She picked up his pole and rested it on her shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m a little rusty at this, but it’s something like this.”

“Just a minute,” he said, stepping behind her. He ran his hands along her shoulders. “Just to get the feel of it,” he said. But the touch of his hands distracted her so much her mind went blank and her body refused to cooperate.

“Nope,” she said lightly, swinging the pole back behind her and then letting the line drop. “I can’t do it, either. Maybe you should just use the stick and string method the boys use.”

“Is that what you’re going to tell your kids?” he asked, leaving his hands on her shoulders. He brushed the back of her neck with his lips, and she had to set the pole down.

“Kids? I’m afraid it’s getting a little late for kids,” she said, as she realized what she said was only too true. A kind of sadness that she hadn’t expected filled her heart. “Maybe I didn’t tell you, but I turned thirty yesterday. Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you or why
I forgot on purpose, so I wouldn’t have to think about turning thirty.”

“It’s not that old,” he said, applying pressure to the back of her neck. “You’re not too old to get married and have kids. You said you were engaged once. What happened, Carrie?”

“Did I? Did I say that?” she said. She was stalling for time. She’d intended to pack up and go home, but she didn’t seem to have the energy or the inclination to leave this peaceful spot. Though she didn’t want to talk about her failed plans for marriage and a family, maybe it was time she did. Maybe when you turned thirty, you couldn’t avoid looking back and ahead whether you wanted to or not. She moved to the tablecloth, now cleared of the picnic items, and sat down on the edge of the cloth. She hugged her knees to her chest. Looking back was one thing, spilling your past to an almost stranger was another. She searched her mind for another topic, something else to talk about, to change the subject, but Matt was too quick for her.

“Who was he?” he prompted, as if he was afraid she was going to avoid his question. Though why he wanted to know, she didn’t know.

“He was someone I met in college,” she said, realizing she couldn’t put it off any longer. “He was fascinated by my so-called exotic background.”
Just like you are
, she thought, glancing at Matt who’d come over to sit on the ground, leaning against a rock with his feet out in front of him. “He just had to see it. He thought he’d love it up here. The last frontier, the open spaces, the clean air, the unspoiled land. No traffic, no noise. He wanted to be a writer. He thought
this would be the perfect place to do it with no distractions. He was right, there were no distractions. That was the problem. He quickly found that he couldn’t stand it. Not just the isolation, though that was part of it.

“He realized how much he needed a corner coffee bar to hang out in, a place to go to scribble on his notepads. He had to have a group of writers to meet with, to share the ups and downs of the creative life as he called it. But that wasn’t all. Mystic seemed provincial. Of course it
is
provincial. I never said it was the Left Bank.” She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. “But he made fun of the people, of my friends, my community. That hurt.”

“You must have been disappointed,” Matt said gently.

“Disappointed in my judgment,” she admitted. “I should have known. Before that, my mother left for almost the same reason.”

“She needed distractions, friends?”

“Something like that. Actually nobody really said what it was. My dad sure didn’t want to talk about it. She always sent me a birthday present and he’d look at it without saying anything. He just had this look on his face. I imagined him saying to himself,
Fine, you send her a present. You think that’s what it takes to be a parent? Think again
. Maybe he didn’t say that. Even to himself. I don’t know. Oh, that’s why I forgot my birthday. No present from my mother because there’s been no mail delivery.”

“Have you seen her recently?”

“She came up for my dad’s funeral. We didn’t really talk. I don’t know how she felt. Maybe she didn’t,
either. Probably regret and relief and sadness and who knows? I was too sad to make the effort to bridge the gap between us. She seemed like a stranger to me. I saw her look around the house, and I think she must have been relieved she’d left. I drove through town with her and I thought about how it must look to her. Probably the way it looks to any outsider. Small and shabby and weather-beaten.”

“Not your house. She couldn’t possibly have thought that. Your house looks warm and welcoming and comforting.”

“You think so? Really?”

“I really think so. Surely your boyfriend could see that,” he said.

“I guess so. But it wasn’t enough. Not enough for my mother, not enough for Tony.”

“But enough for you?”

“Of course,” she said a little too quickly. “Or I wouldn’t be here.”

“If you loved Tony, why didn’t you live where he wanted to live, wherever that was.”

That was the big question she’d never wanted to answer. She didn’t want to face the possibility that she’d made the wrong decision. She picked up a stick and drew a stick figure in the dirt and tried to justify her decision. Not to Matt, to herself.

Chapter Seven

She thought over her answer for a long time before she spoke. “Of course he suggested that I leave and go live with him in the lower forty-eight. But I always knew this was where I belonged. I was raised to take over for my dad. It would have broken his heart if I hadn’t come back. Dad must have thought of the possibility of my staying down there somewhere, but he never said anything. We were going to be partners. Neither of us knew I’d be taking over for him so soon. Now that he’s gone it’s even more important for me to be here. Oh, the business is flying all over the state, but when somebody in town needs something or needs to go out I’m here for them.” Surely he could see that, even after only a few days in town.

“Like the other day,” he said.

“Yes. That was unusual. A real emergency. Mostly it’s other things. Not so urgent. I love being needed and wanted. I love being a part of the town. A part of a community where I know everyone and they know me.”

“I sensed that at your party. It was there in the air. This wonderful reciprocal feeling. They love you and
you love them. That’s very rare to have a whole town feel that way.”

“They felt that way about my dad, too. That’s what I’ve inherited. That’s what I can’t give up.” She glanced at him. She wondered if she’d talked too much. If she’d given away too much. If she’d sounded too judgmental. If she’d been too chauvinistic about her life and the town. She wondered if she’d bored him. He didn’t look bored. He looked thoughtful. He looked as if he thought every word she said was important. He was a good listener. Just one of the characteristics of a good doctor. She had no doubt he’d be a good doctor—the best. Actually, he already was a good doctor.

“I’m envious,” he said.

“Why? Isn’t your situation similar…even better? Won’t you inherit a whole list of patients you’ll take over from your father along with a lot of love and goodwill? After all, he’s done more for them than I’ll ever do for anyone in Mystic. I can’t give them a new face or repair any damage that will give them a new lease on life the way you can.
I’m
envious of you.”

He smiled at her. “It’s certainly true there’s the possibility to do good work—important work,” he said. “But sometimes I wonder if I’m the right person to do it. There’s a price to pay for spending all those years in school and in training for this specialty. And it doesn’t stop there. I think I told you my dad was never around when I was a kid. He’s still not around. The only reason he’s on this cruise is because his doctor told him he had to take a break. His heart isn’t strong. Whether that’s because of his work or his disposition or his genes, we don’t know. What we do
know is that he’s a workaholic. He loves what he does, and you’re right, he is appreciated in return, not just by his patients, but by the whole medical community.”

“It sounds like a good life,” she said.

“For him, it has been,” he said. “So good he can’t imagine anyone not wanting it.”

“Like you?”

“Especially not me. I’ve been raised for it. Ever since I can remember that’s what they’ve expected of me.”