Alaskan Holiday

by Debbie Macomber

  End of story.

  If she thought I was going to beg her to stay, then she was wrong. I had my answer. It wasn’t the response I’d wanted, but it was one I had to accept.

  Josie didn’t appear to believe me.

  It was time to explain why I’d come to the lodge. “I actually might have a solution for getting you back to Seattle.”

  It took a bit for my words to sink in. At first it seemed like Josie wasn’t sure I was sincere. Then her eyes rounded with excitement. “What do you mean? Do you know someone willing to come for me?”

  “I might. A friend of mine, Sawyer O’Halloran, is a bush pilot and owns a ski-plane. He has reason to fly this way every so often—”

  “Define often,” she blurted out, interrupting me.

  “He’s in the area every few weeks or so on business. I can reach out and ask him when he might be able to make a stop here.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “I said I would.” It was a kick in the gut to see how excited Josie got. I didn’t need anything more to confirm how eager she was to leave Ponder.

  To leave me.

  “Once I hear back from him, I’ll let you know.”

  “I appreciate this more than I can say.”

  “No problem, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “Of course.”

  As much as I wanted Josie in Ponder, I couldn’t, wouldn’t, manipulate events so she’d be forced to stay. I appreciated her talents as a chef—her passion, her drive, her creativity. After all, she was an artist like myself.

  Some of the eagerness drained from her eyes as another thought came to her. “What do you think he’ll charge me?”

  Uncertain, I wasn’t sure what to tell her. “Can’t say, but I’ve never known Sawyer to be unreasonable. And as he’s already going to be in the area, I strongly suspect it will be a fraction of the estimate you got earlier.”

  It looked as if Josie was about to cry. The one thing I couldn’t deal with was a crying woman. My first impulse was to hug her, although I didn’t know if she’d appreciate my touch.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Think nothing of it,” I said, and started toward the door. It was time I returned to work and kicked Jack out of my cabin before he consumed all my winter supplies.

  “Can I give you a hug?” Josie asked. Before I could answer, she had crossed the room. I’d give anything to have her in my arms. But holding Josie, feeling her softness, breathing in the wonderful scent of her hair, would be pure torture now.

  I didn’t have a choice. She slipped her arms around my middle and pressed the side of her face against my chest.

  “I don’t understand why you’re helping me,” she said softly, as I continued to hold her close, savoring every moment. I wanted to store up this warm sensation and cling to it for as long as my memory would allow.

  “I would think the answer is obvious.”

  Breaking away, she looked up, and her eyes locked with mine.

  “I love you, Josie. I would do almost anything I could for you.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Josie

  I refused to unpack my suitcase. My desperate hope was that Palmer’s friend would find an excuse to fly into Ponder sooner rather than later. When he arrived, I intended to be ready. For three days I lived out of my luggage, until I couldn’t bear digging through my clothes another minute. I carefully set out a few items and placed them inside my drawers.

  Since that first morning when I’d missed the last ferry out of Ponder, I’d avoided Palmer, which was much harder than I thought it would be. He’d stopped by the lodge any number of times and I’d found an excuse to send him on his way. I could tell he was disappointed, and after the second day of attempts, he hadn’t stopped by again. I couldn’t blame him. Only now, I was lonely and depressed. I was afraid if I spent time with Palmer, I would never find the courage to leave. I couldn’t allow my heart to make a life-changing decision for me. This was a serious turning point in my life. I couldn’t marry Palmer any more than I could live in Ponder.

  With little to do at the lodge, I had nothing but time on my hands. I worked at creating recipes and menus and emailed those to Chef Anton, who had agreed to hold my position. I read two books in three days, cooked, and baked. I worked on a needlepoint project I’d brought with me that I’d started while in high school. After three full days of isolating myself and avoiding Palmer, I’d had enough. I was only hurting myself. Palmer was good company and I missed him, missed our times together. I missed Hobo, too. The husky had made his way to the lodge on his own that morning, and I nearly cried when I saw him, so thankful for the company.

  Jack stopped by two or three times a day, always around mealtimes. No surprise there. If I let him, the older man would become my constant companion. He talked nonstop, suggesting meals I might consider cooking for him. He’d gone so far as to say I should thank him for giving me something to do while I waited: feed him. Just this morning, he’d brought me a package of frozen caribou meat and asked me to make his favorite stew. Because he’d generously provided the necessary ingredients, I set about putting everything together in a large Dutch oven.

  “You baking bread today?” he asked, sitting on a stool inside the lodge kitchen while I browned the meat and sautéed the onions for his dinner.

  “I baked bread yesterday,” I reminded him.

  “It’s gone.”

  “Two loaves?” The man ate more than anyone I’d ever known.

  “I gave one loaf to Palmer,” he told me. “He was glad to get it, too.”

  I busied myself taking the meat out of the cast-iron skillet and placing it inside the pot. “Speaking of Palmer,” I said, afraid to show too much interest, “how is he?”

  “Busy. He’s got this commission for a sword and he’s working all kind of hours. Guess he wants it finished before Christmas. Mostly he’s using it as a distraction, you being so close by and all.”

  “Oh.”

  “Been grumpy, too, especially when I mentioned you. You might want to bake him one of those special cobblers you make with those berries you two picked last summer. That might sweeten him up some.”

  My berry cobbler was Jack’s favorite. He wasn’t fooling me. Anything I baked for Palmer, Jack was sure to get part of. I ignored the suggestion.

  “What about meals? He’s eating, isn’t he?”

  Jack shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. I suppose.”

  That didn’t sound encouraging. “Maybe you should share part of this stew with him, seeing that there’s plenty.”

  Jack nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a great idea.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll put everything together for you to take to him.” My pride wouldn’t allow me to deliver the meal, although by all that was right, I should. I hoped Palmer would see this tasty stew as a peace offering. I owed him an apology of some sort. I’d sort of backed myself into a corner and regretted it, and now I wasn’t sure how to smooth the waters.

  “You want me to take dinner to Palmer?” Jack returned indignantly. “This is your idea. You take it to him.”

  Part of me wanted to object, but I couldn’t. Ever since Palmer said he was in love with me, I’d been struggling. Late at night I’d lay awake, thinking about marrying him and all that it would mean. I was tempted by his proposal. Really tempted. I was hounded by questions, and frankly, the answers frightened me.

  Or maybe it was more the fact that his marriage proposal hadn’t sounded like one. Originally, I hadn’t been able to figure out what on earth he was talking about. I thought he had a case of the flu. Palmer had been talking for a good ten minutes before I had the slightest hint of where the conversation was heading. Then he’d declared his love and asked me to be his wife and all I could see were obstacles instead of the possibilities. For the last three d
ays, I struggled. In my eagerness to work with Chef Anton, to get to my mom and to my friends, I’d discounted my feelings for Palmer, not allowing myself to admit I was in love with him. Why, oh why, did life have to be so complicated?

  I’d accepted early on that a long-term relationship with him would be problematic. Repeatedly I’d told myself that once I was back in Seattle, I’d be able to forget him. Now I wasn’t so sure I could make that happen. When it came to his marriage proposal, I’d been reluctant and foolish. In retrospect, I wondered what would have happened if I had caught the last boat out of Ponder. I was afraid once I had returned home he’d be in my heart even more than he was already, and I wasn’t prepared to deal with those emotions.

  “You’re thinking about Palmer, aren’t you?” Jack questioned, breaking into my thoughts as I stood in front of the stove, working on dinner.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that,” I said, embarrassed to get caught.

  Jack’s telling eyes sparked with glee. “Palmer. He’s on your mind, isn’t he?”

  “No,” I denied. “Maybe.”

  Jack chuckled. “Just as I thought. Out of sight, out of mind. How’s that working for you?”

  I hated that he could read me that easily. I had the feeling that if my father was alive, he’d be saying the same thing to me.

  “I see you don’t have an answer. You know what I think?” Jack said, growing serious.

  Leaving the stove area, I tried to look busy around the kitchen, cleaning out the sink. “I bet I can guess.”

  “I think,” he said, rubbing his beard in that thoughtful way of his, “that subconsciously you wanted to miss that boat.”

  “What?” I flared, outraged at the suggestion. “That’s ridiculous.” I refused to even consider that that was the case. It wasn’t even worthy of a discussion.

  Jack smiled as though he held a winning lottery ticket in his hand. “Admit it, you’re in love with Palmer.”

  Whirling around, I stared at Jack, ready to deny it, when I realized I couldn’t. My shoulders sagged in defeat. While I wasn’t willing to openly admit how I felt, I decided not to say anything.

  “You’re confused, Josie,” Jack said kindly, gently. “Can’t say I blame you. Life this close to the tundra isn’t easy. It can get lonely here, especially for a woman. Heard it said once that women need one another for emotional support and that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, so when did you become an expert on women?” I asked, grateful to turn the subject away from my feelings for Palmer.

  “I don’t know much about what women need,” he openly admitted. “It was Angie who told me that.”

  “Angie Wilkerson?” I’d met her while working at the lodge. Angie and Steve—they had a cabin in Ponder. We’d exchanged greetings a few times after she won the chili cook-off, so I knew who she was. “Angie’s here for the winter? In Ponder?”

  “Sure is. She stays each winter, along with Steve and their two boys.”

  This was news to me.

  “Like Palmer, Steve isn’t much for city life. He works for one of those big oil companies: troubleshoots any problems that might come up with the oil line.”

  A sudden thought raced through my mind at the speed of light. If there were problems with the pipeline, that meant Steve might need to get out of Ponder. If he had to leave anytime soon, I might be able to catch a ride with him. Hope sprang eternal. I now had a plan B.

  “Jack, if there’s trouble with the pipeline, Steve has to fly out, right? I mean, he has to go to the site for repairs, doesn’t he?” My mind was in a whirl, not that I wished trouble on the pipeline, but this could well develop into the escape plan I was desperately looking for.

  “Nope.”

  “What do you mean by ‘nope’?” I asked. “You just said—”

  “Everything is done by computer these days, Josie. Steve can manage everything he needs to do from the comfort of his own home.”

  My hopes did a nosedive. “Oh.”

  “Angie was surprised to hear you’d missed the boat. She said she’d love to visit with you, if you’d like.”

  I washed my hands and dried them on the towel that was attached to my white apron. I’d call her and make a point of stopping by. I needed a friend, especially now.

  “Think about what I said. I really believe your subconscious was at work, Josie. Given the chance, you could learn to love married life here in Ponder,” Jack insisted, smiling as though he had some deeply held secret I wasn’t allowed to know yet.

  “Jack, please. Despite what you might think, my being stuck here wasn’t intentional.”

  He grinned with a certain confidence that declared he was right. “So you say.”

  “So I know,” I returned.

  His smug look stayed firmly in place, and while it perturbed me, I wasn’t going to waste the energy to argue further. Jack was stubborn to a fault, and I could tell it was a losing battle. Jack would never admit to being wrong.

  * * *

  —

  I’d finished the dinner dishes and Jack left to return to his own cabin. I stared at the foil-covered bowl by the stove. If I was going to deliver this to Palmer, I needed to do it soon.

  The one thing that shocked me about Alaska was how early it grew dark in the fall and winter. It was late in October and it was completely dark by five-thirty that afternoon. With a flashlight in hand, I dressed warmly and headed out of the lodge to Palmer’s cabin. I’d traveled this path dozens of times and had no trouble finding my way.

  Although it was well past the dinner hour, I noticed the lights were on in Palmer’s workshop. I stood in front of the door and hesitated, gathering my nerve, unsure of my welcome. With my heart in my throat, I knocked and waited for a response.

  No more than a few seconds later, the door opened. Palmer’s eyes widened, as he was apparently shocked to see me.

  “I brought you dinner,” I said, holding out the bowl. He didn’t invite me in, and with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I handed it to him and turned away.

  “I heard from Sawyer,” he said, stopping me in my tracks. That was the friend he’d mentioned, the bush pilot who owned the ski-plane.

  “You did?” I couldn’t hide my excitement.

  “Come inside,” he said, opening the door wider. “I was just about to call it a night.” He led the way from the workshop to the house, turning off the lights and heading into the kitchen with Hobo tagging behind him.

  Palmer set the bowl down on the counter and washed up before turning around to face me. “I intended to have Jack give you the news earlier, but I wanted to do it myself.”

  He smiled, and it was as if all was forgiven and forgotten. I released a silent sigh of relief.

  “Is Sawyer coming this way anytime soon?” I asked, trying not to reveal my enthusiasm. He frowned, and I knew my reaction had disappointed him.

  “I figured you’d be eager to leave. Sawyer said he’d be in the area in another ten days. You can last that long, right?”

  “Of course.” Not that I had a choice. “Did he say anything about what he’d charge me for the flight?” This was a major concern.

  “He did.”

  Nervous now, I moved to the opposite end of the counter, across from Palmer. He had two stools there, and I pulled one out and sat down, fearing the cost would be far beyond what I could afford and that my knees would buckle under me. The other quote I’d been given had shocked me speechless.

  Palmer opened a drawer and removed a spoon before he mentioned the fee.

  I gasped. I couldn’t help it.

  Palmer’s head shot up. “Is that too much?”

  “No…It’s far less than what I expected.” I was grateful and resisted the urge to leap up and hug Palmer. In only a matter of days I would be able to return to Seattle, to my mom, and to
the start of my new career.

  To the life I wanted, I reminded myself.

  Instead of eating, Palmer placed his hands in his back pockets so that his elbows jutted out from his sides. “What did you find out about your job with Chef Allen?”

  “Chef Anton,” I corrected.

  “Right. Chef Anton.”

  “He will keep the position for me as long as I get back within the next two weeks.” That was the one bright spot in my predicament.

  “I checked him out on the Internet,” Palmer casually mentioned. “He’s young.”

  “Not that young. Thirty-five, I think.”

  Palmer snickered. “That’s young. The article said he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in Seattle.”

  I struggled to hide my amusement at Palmer’s observation.

  “Obviously you’ve met him.”

  “I have. A couple times.” While I was impressed with his culinary skill, I’d found him arrogant and demanding, to the extreme. There’d been rumors of him abusing drugs and alcohol, but I saw no evidence of that. He was difficult, but I could deal with that. As an intern, I’d worked under a few chefs with the same overbearing attitude, and I’d managed the strong personalities while still doing my job well. That ability had gotten me the recommendation from my instructors, and the subsequent interview with Chef Anton.

  “I see,” Palmer said, with some reluctance.

  “I believe I’ll learn a great deal working under him,” I offered.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Palmer muttered under his breath.

  I heard him and wondered if he would repeat that. “Did you say something?”

  “Not really,” he said. “I’m happy he’s holding the job for you, Josie.”

  “Thank you.”

  The conversation faded and there wasn’t any reason for me to linger. I headed toward the door. “I guess I’d better get back to the lodge.”

  Palmer set aside the bowl of stew I’d delivered. “Hobo and I will walk you back.”