Alaskan Holiday

by Debbie Macomber

  “I suppose I should be more sympathetic toward Jack claiming he’s lost the love of his life.” I picked up my fork to examine the tines, to be sure they were even.

  “Jack isn’t serious about Mom, is he?” Josie asked.

  “He’ll recover.”

  “I feel bad for him.”

  “Me, too.” And I did. “I suggested that the strong attraction he felt for your mother was a sure sign he was ready to bring a woman into his life. I urged him to check out one of those online dating sites.”

  Josie’s eyes grew dark and serious, as if the thought brought on a case of anxiety. “Have you ever tried one of those sites, Palmer?”

  I found the question humorous. “Me on a dating site? No.” I shook my head. “You?”

  “No,” she said, and then, in an apparent effort to update me on her job situation, she added, “You might be interested to hear Chef Anton contacted me.”

  Learning that came as no surprise. I struggled to hide my irritation. I figured it wouldn’t take him long to admit he needed her and wanted her back. I was curious to find out what he was willing to do to get her to agree to return. “Did he offer you a raise?”

  “No, quite the opposite. He assured me I wouldn’t work in this town again.”

  The man was an idiot not to recognize what a jewel he had in Josie. “He’s blackballing you?”

  “He can try, but I sincerely doubt it will work. Besides, I’ve been having second thoughts about restaurant work altogether. The hours are brutal. The long days and my inability to create, combined with my awful experience with Chef Anton, have really soured my views of a career in this field.”

  “But you applied for other restaurant work,” I reminded her. That had been the most discouraging news of my visit.

  “I did, but out of obligation.”

  “Obligation?”

  “Mom and I worked hard to pay for my culinary degree, and I felt I needed to give it another shot.” She hesitated before adding, “Then I realized that this isn’t what I want after all. I want to do more with my talent, more than directing other staff in a hot kitchen or being responsible for preparing other chefs’ recipes.”

  My spirits elevated. This was exactly what I’d been wanting to hear before I brought up the idea of us marrying. Silence hung in the air until I approached the subject of us.

  “Do you think you’d be happy working at the lodge again next season?” I asked, unable to hide how anxious I was for her answer.

  A slight frown marred her smile. “I don’t know if it will be enough for me, Palmer.”

  There was a lull in the conversation and our salads were delivered. Neither of us reached for our forks.

  “Are you saying you have no desire to return to Ponder?” I asked. I might as well get the question out in the open. If I was beating my head against a brick wall, then I needed to know it now. It was more like beating my heart against a brick wall.

  “You heard me defend Ponder last night,” Josie reminded me.

  “Yes, but you didn’t say you wanted to live there.”

  The warmth in her eyes told me everything. Everything that I needed to know—that she loved me. My heart pounded so loudly that I couldn’t hear myself speak.

  Looking down, Josie smoothed the cloth napkin across her lap. “If I had a good reason, Palmer, I’d go back to Ponder.”

  I stretched my arm across the table and took hold of her hand. “I know how badly I messed up the first time I asked you to marry me. I love you, Josie. You deserve all the right romantic words, and more than anything, I wish I could give you all that and more. But that’s not me. I’m just a guy who can’t imagine not having you in my life. When you came to Ponder it felt like I’d found the one person in the world who would complete me. I couldn’t wait to spend time with you. Being with you was the best part of my day. My work is my passion, or it was until I met you. You’re everything to me. I’d hoped I’d showed you that by helping you get back to Seattle for your job. Your happiness is important to me. You’re important to me.”

  “You’re important to me, too.”

  “I wanted you to miss me and reconsider my proposal.”

  “Marrying you and living in Ponder wasn’t an easy decision. I needed that time away. I had to give my dream a chance to find out if it was what I’d always hoped it would be. It wasn’t, and I realized how much I loved you. Nothing was the way I’d imagined. Then things between us changed and I didn’t know why. You didn’t seem to have time for me any longer, and I didn’t know what to think.”

  I was embarrassed to admit the truth. Seeing that we were both laying it all on the table, I had to be as honest with Josie as she was being with me. “I lost heart and felt it was best to own up to the fact that if I was losing you to Chef Anton, then the best thing to do was cut my losses.”

  “It was about that stupid Facebook post? Why didn’t you ask me about it? If you had, I’d have explained everything. It was my first day on the job and I had no clue what I was getting myself into.”

  She brought up a good point. “I didn’t feel I could,” I admitted, “seeing that I was the one who insisted we not discuss the chef. Nor did I want you to feel like I’d become a stalker.”

  She laughed. “Palmer, honestly, reading my Facebook posts doesn’t make you a stalker.”

  I was shaking inside, wanting her so badly. I wasn’t sure what more I could say but felt I had to try. “You know I love you. If I knew any poetry, I’d recite it. If I could play the guitar, I’d serenade you. Sadly, I can’t do either. All I can tell you is that my heart is yours if you want it, Josie.”

  She smiled that beautiful smile I loved so much. The smile that encouraged me.

  I quickly added, “I want to make a life with you as my wife, and if you’re willing to go a step further with me, I want to create a family with you.”

  I waited, wanting her to respond with a quick yes, but instead she was dabbing at her eyes with the linen napkin. “So,” I said, releasing a deep breath, “which way are you leaning?”

  Josie nodded.

  “That’s a yes?”

  “Yes, Palmer, it’s a resounding yes. What did you think I was telling you?”

  I couldn’t sit still. I jumped up from the booth and knelt beside her. Her warm hands framed my face and she leaned over and kissed me. It seemed the entire restaurant went strangely quiet, but I couldn’t care less. I had everything I needed for a perfect Christmas. I had Josie.

  After several kisses, Josie raised her head. “You better get up off your knees. People are looking at us.”

  I kissed the back of her hand and returned to my seat, jubilant and excited. Reaching across the table, we held hands, neither of us interested in our meals.

  “We’d live in Ponder, right?” she asked.

  “In-season, for sure. Off-season is negotiable. The property in Fairbanks looks promising. Where we live will be where you’re the most comfortable, Josie, especially after we start a family.”

  “I so want children,” Josie whispered.

  “Me, too.” I raised her hand to my lips and kissed her knuckles, unable to hold back. “I know you’re passionate about your work. We’ll find a way for you to use your talent and education, I promise you, Josie. Ponder isn’t the end of the world; people still need to eat.”

  “Your faith in me means everything. I have confidence that I’ll think of something: in fact, I have a couple ideas already. You should know, the way I feel right now, becoming your wife, sharing your life, making mine a part of yours, it’s everything I would ever want or need.”

  My heart had settled down to a normal, steady beat, so I could breathe again. “Did I do better this time?” I asked. “With the proposal?”

  “Much better, but I wouldn’t mind you telling me again how much you admire my straight
, white teeth.”

  Groaning, I shook my head. “I blame Jack for that fiasco.”

  “Then you should know your style of proposing is everything a woman could hope for from the man she loves.”

  “Thank you.” I wasn’t a quick study, but I did my best.

  The server approached our table, and she noticed that neither of us had touched our meals. “Can I get either of you something different?” she asked.

  I looked away from Josie for just a moment. “I think we’re good. No,” I corrected myself quickly, “on second thought, we’d like to order a bottle of champagne.”

  “Are you celebrating a special occasion?” she asked, having read the situation perfectly.

  I doubt we could have fooled anyone in the vicinity around us.

  “We’re getting married.”

  The server’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations! A holiday proposal. It doesn’t get any more romantic than that.”

  EPILOGUE

  Josie

  Three years later

  I wrote down another ingredient and then went back to the stovetop and stirred the fresh ginger into the squash soup.

  “Is it ready yet?” Jack asked. He sat at the kitchen counter, eagerly eyeing the pot on the burner.

  “Give it a minute. I want the ginger to blend into it before you taste it.”

  Jack sat ready and waiting with a spoon clenched in his hand. He was always the first to try my recipes. My blog, which featured recipes with ingredients local to Alaska, had taken off, and I had a following of more than two hundred and fifty thousand now. The popularity had garnered the attention of several advertisers, who were seeking placement on my blog.

  When Palmer and I married I’d wondered how I would be able to use my culinary degree living in a remote Alaskan location. Angie encouraged me to write a food blog.

  In my first entry, I shared my recipe for moose stroganoff, along with the story of Jack the hunting guide and his love of food. I put it out on the Internet, not expecting much. Then Angie had reposted it to her own loyal following. The sharing and resharing turned it into something magical. Responses poured in, asking for more, and my audience had been growing ever since.

  I called my blog My Alaskan Holiday: Creating Amazing Dishes with the Bounties of Nature. I’d never expected to bring in an income from writing about a subject that I dearly loved. I was astonished and speechless when the Cooking Channel contacted me about a possible television show featuring my recipes based on wild game, native fish, berries…all from Alaska, including stories about the nature all around us and our lifestyle in this remote burg. It was hard to believe that my life was coming together like this.

  “It should be ready by now. Right?” Jack asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Three more minutes,” I told him. “Be patient. The soup will taste all the better. Remember, good things come to those who wait.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry,” I reminded him.

  He grinned boyishly, his eyes sparkling. “I am, and you can count your blessings. If not for my love of your cooking, just where would you be?”

  “True.” Jack had encouraged me every step of the way.

  It was a good life. Angie and Steve’s little girl, Jaden, was three now, with two big brothers who protectively looked after her. My friend’s writing career was booming as well. We’d grown closer than ever after my move to Ponder. She read and edited my blogs, and I was her first reader when it came to her novels.

  Just as I was about to dish up Jack’s soup, Donna arrived, after flying in from Fairbanks for spring break a day earlier. Jack had met her three years ago when he’d left Seattle, heading back to Alaska. Donna, a widow, taught school in Fairbanks and was in the middle seat next to Jack on his flight out of Sea-Tac. On the long flight to Fairbanks, Jack had been down in the dumps and was convinced he would forever mourn the loss of his one great love, my mother. Donna had kindly listened to Jack as he spoke of his heartache. She’d encouraged him to move on, and the two had exchanged contact information.

  Before long, Jack was making any excuse he could find to fly into Fairbanks, and six months later, Jack and Donna were married. Donna continued to teach in Fairbanks but spent her school breaks and summers in Ponder with Jack. Jack stayed on as a hunting guide for the lodge, but all his off-season time was spent with Donna in Fairbanks. It worked for them, and it pleased me to see Jack happy and settled.

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Donna said to Jack as she strolled into the kitchen after a polite knock against the door.

  “Josie made soup.” He tilted his head to one side so Donna could kiss him. His beard was neatly trimmed these days, thanks to his wife’s influence.

  “Would you like a sample?” I asked her. “It’s squash soup, from the squash I grew this summer.” What most people didn’t know was that with the long hours of daylight in the Alaska summers, the gardens served up a cornucopia of amazing and extra-large produce. It was a wealth of riches for me as a food blogger and a chef. Two of my most popular blog posts showed pictures of my garden and the incredible size of my squash and other vegetables.

  “I’ve been fiddling with this recipe a bit and recently added—”

  “Ginger,” Donna finished for me. “The scent greeted me when I came through the door.”

  “Would you like a sample? I have plenty.”

  Donna pulled out a stool and joined Jack at the kitchen counter.

  I dished up two bowls and took notes of their comments, knowing I would probably need to make a few adjustments. Jack, being Jack, rarely had a single suggestion. He would eat just about anything, which didn’t make him my best critic. Nevertheless, I sought out his opinion, knowing he was always my biggest cheerleader. Donna, thankfully, was more discerning and made several observations that I found especially helpful.

  When they’d finished with the soup, the two headed to the lodge. Since they’d married, Donna had become good friends with the Brewsters. She’d suggested adding a children’s program to supplement what the lodge offered to families. Jerry and Marianne had jumped on the idea. Several young single college students had applied for positions, and Donna headed up the educational programs each summer.

  In addition to writing my blog, I returned to the lodge as their chef. I’d found freedom and joy here that I hadn’t expected; I was able to create and bring delight both to myself and to the guests and locals who ate at the lodge, all without the pressures I’d endured at the restaurant back in Seattle. My meals had even attracted the attention of several food critics, who wrote not only about the lodge and the food but the quaint town of Ponder. The Brewsters were already sold out for the next two years and were in the process of building small cabins to accommodate the growth in their business.

  Ponder and the lodge weren’t the only things experiencing growth and prosperity. Palmer had his own success. The Civil War sword he’d delivered before Christmas three years ago had caught the attention of reenactors and collectors, and my husband had received several other commissions. He’d been interviewed recently in a national magazine and had been part of a television competition, bringing home a ten-thousand-dollar prize. We’d used his winnings to add on to the house, in anticipation of expanding our family.

  My mom was well and happy. She and Craig had married, less than a month after Palmer and I exchanged vows. I had come to admire and appreciate my stepfather. He was kind, generous, and levelheaded, and brought wonderful qualities to the marriage. They were blissfully happy. Craig was semiretired, which gave them time to travel. Last winter they’d taken a cruise in the South Pacific, starting in Hawaii and ending in Australia. They had recently returned from their second winter cruise, which took them to South America. Knowing my mother, she’d bought yarn while she was in Peru, as she was an avid knitter.
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  Just after noon, Palmer wandered into the kitchen, his heated face still red from working over his forge. “Is lunch ready?” he asked. He hesitated when he saw my face. “What’s the problem—did you burn the soup?”

  “No.”

  “It smells wonderful. What is it?” he asked. He stood in front of the stove and waved his hand over the pot. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent.

  “It’s ginger,” I supplied.

  “Yes, that’s it,” he concurred, taking in another deep breath. He opened his eyes and frowned. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve got something up your sleeve. I know that look.”

  “Remember those pregnancy tests I asked Donna to bring from Fairbanks?”

  Palmer went still and quiet. “I remember,” he said softly.

  “I used one this morning.”

  “And?”

  “And we’re pregnant.”

  Silence followed, and for an instant I was afraid Palmer wasn’t happy with my news. That was before he let out a yell that shook the rafters. He gripped me around the waist and lifted me up in his arms, far off the ground.

  “Palmer, Palmer, put me down.”

  I should have known better than to protest. It only encouraged him. Before I knew it, we were sitting on the sofa and I was in his lap. His large, muscular hands framed my face as he brought his mouth to mine, kissing me with a tenderness that still held the power to stir me.

  With my arms wrapped around his neck, I kissed him back and then rested my head against his shoulder. “Are you happy?”

  “You mean you can’t tell? Think I’m more surprised than anything. It happened so fast. I thought these things took more time.”

  I’d been off birth control only a short while, and I was surprised myself with how quickly we’d conceived. “Me, too.”

  “I thank God every day you agreed to marry me, Josie. Every single day.”

  “And I thank God you were persistent, Palmer.” I was unable to imagine what my life would be without him. Like Angie had realized when she moved to Ponder, I, too, discovered that what I gained here by far outweighed anything I now lived without.