And then as if on cue, Marion came up from behind him and pressed her hands on his eyes. He knew it was Marion because that is how she used to greet him in high school and he knew she was doing it for old time’s sake. “Marion,” he said. “The only person who would try that on me at this age.”
“Finally, you bless us with your presence. I haven’t even bumped into you at the Old Folks’ in a while.”
“Marion, this is Nadia. Nadia, Marion.” Nadia reached out and they shook hands.
“So this is who’s been keeping you so busy. You’re the one with the camera, right? Nice to meet you. Kache, can you come and do a sound check with me?” He looked to Nadia and she smiled and waved him off. “She’s precious,” Marion said as they pressed their way through the packed room to the small stage in the corner. “A little young, but darling.”
“She looks a lot younger than she is.”
“Oh, good. Then we won’t have to have you arrested.” Marion stepped onto the stage to test the mic.
A deep, somewhat familiar voice said “Arrested? You breaking laws, my friend?”
Kache glanced around before the man at his side momentarily lifted his cap and pulled his sunglasses down his nose. “Are you going all movie star on me, Tol? Going to do an Alaskan version of your own Do-it-Yourself show?”
Tol laughed. “You are wishing. You might learn something. No, too many lights and people for me here. I must get to the door and get some air. I can’t stay long but I look forward to hearing you sing your music,” he said and disappeared into the crowd. Dan and Mike and Chris all hugged Kache at once, and soon everyone was slapping him on the back and taking out their wallets to show him photos of their kids and wives. It seemed to be as Marion had told him: all had been forgiven. He’d left without a word and never looked back, but it was as if they’d played together last week. He was hoping the music would sound that way too.
Marion said, “So shall we play some old stuff to warm up, and then why don’t you go through your song for the video and we’ll see where we can jump in.”
He felt exposed to sing such a personal love song in this crowd. He’d done it in Anchorage, but he didn’t know anyone there. Still, when the time came he went for it, put it all out there, and Nadia filmed him.
“If you feel the need to hide
I’ll cover you and go bare.
If you can’t walk another mile
On my back I’ll take you there.
“If you can’t cross the river
I’ll lie down and be your bridge.
And if you lose all hope and vision
I’ll paint the sky from edge to edge.
“Because Nadia, you unknotted me
Nadia, you undeniably
Nadia, you unarguably
Made me a better man.
“If your eyes let go their tears
I’ll drink them like sweet wine.
If your gentle heart goes unclaimed
I will gladly call it mine.
“If no one smiles at your jokes
I’ll laugh until I split in two.
Then there will be one more of me,
And I’ll spend both lives loving you.
“Because Nadia, you unknotted me.
Nadia, you undeniably
Nadia, you unarguably
Made me a better a man.”
Marion and the guys rounded it out and it sounded good. The whole place stood and clapped when they were done, and when Nadia took the camera away from her face he saw that she beamed.
Marion must have seen it too, because she started speaking into the mic just as the applause finally died down. “Now we’re going to go way back to the sweet and innocent old days. I know Kache remembers this one …” and she started in on the love song the two of them had written together. It was one of their best songs from back then and they’d sung it when they were in love, and they’d sung it with their lips almost touching, looking into each other’s eyes, and this was what Marion did now. She walked over to Kache’s mic and looked into his eyes while Dan started in on the piano. There was only the piano, Kache didn’t even play the guitar for this one, it was just the piano—soft and slow—and Marion’s voice and Kache’s voice, always in such close harmonies, and this song always did flay him. “I don’t want to try … to deny … this love anymore. I’m falling faster … and further … than I ever have before.” He forgot momentarily about Nadia, about the camera, about the crowded bar, about Rex filling glasses behind the counter, and he looked into Marion’s deep brown eyes and remembered how fully he loved music back when they used to sing together, how nothing had scarred him over yet. His family was back with him in those words and notes, in fact they hadn’t even left. He remembered how much his mom and dad liked her and how Denny said he was jealous because she was such a fox. He remembered how when she came over they treated her like family, and sometimes if it got too late, his mom would call her mom to see if it was okay if Marion spent the night on the couch instead of having to drive her all the way into town, it was so late, and the roads so icy. And when his dad’s snores filled the upstairs, Kache would open his door ever so carefully, tiptoe down each stair, avoiding the places that creaked, and Marion would be waiting, would lift the sleeping bag and let him in.
The song ended, and with it, its spell. Kache blinked and turned away from Marion and saw Nadia, no longer filming, only watching, and all Kache said was, “Dammit.” Unfortunately, he said this into the mic, so the crowd heard him and stopped clapping, waiting for him to finish saying whatever it was he was going to say. “So yeah. That was an oldie. Really old. Let’s liven things up a bit. The band’s going to play some of their new stuff and I’ll chime in when it feels right.”
So that’s what they did, and at the end of the night, when they were all sitting at the bar chatting with Rex, Kache heard Nadia ask Marion, “So you have always lived here in the town Caboose?”
Marion said that she had.
“You did not ever wish to leave?”
“Why would I when I live in the most beautiful spot on earth? Where else is there?”
It seemed like Nadia wasn’t sure how to answer this question. She picked up her camera bag. “Kache?”
Kache took that as his cue. “Yeah, we’ve gotta get going. Thanks. And, guys, I promise it won’t be so long. Let’s do this again soon.” Everyone hugged both him and Nadia goodbye, and the bitter night air startled them when they walked outside, so that they both paused, held their breath for an instant, then pulled their coats tighter and dashed to the truck.
Kache attempted to begin a few conversations but nothing stuck, like the wispy snow flurries that had started but wouldn’t amount to much, needing only the wipers’ lowest setting. He knew what was bugging her. He’d be bugged too. He’d blown it but he didn’t know what to say, and starting a conversation about the song seemed like admitting guilt. He’d gotten lost in the moment. Yes, he’d loved Marion once long ago, but it was Nadia he loved now and had even been daydreaming of having kids with. He knew not to tell her about that particular daydream just yet because that would freak her out even more than him getting all moony-eyed with Marion. Marion, you made me moony-eyed. What an asshole. It was another memory, a good memory of his family, which singing with Marion had brought on. Totally innocent except for that one flashback regarding climbing into her sleeping bag, but that was quick—both the memory and the event itself. He must have smiled at this, because Nadia finally said something.
“So you are very happy and smiling. Tonight made you very happy.”
“No. I mean, yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
“How do you know what I am thinking?”
“You seem to know what I’m thinking all the time. Maybe I found a journal about you.”
The look on his face meant to say that he was only joking, that he loved her beyond anything he’d ever felt for any woman anywhere, but it didn’t seem to translate, because her eyes held tears.
“Hell shit,” she said. She wiped her eyes with her mitten, then cursed again because a piece of the wool from the mitten had lodged itself in her eye. Kache switched on the overhead light so she could look in the visor mirror. He waited while she ran her finger over and over the surface of her eye. “There,” she said, and he turned the light off.
“Nadia. I’m so sorry. I love you.”
“You love a lot of people, I believe. Your heart, it is getting crowded.”
“No. I don’t know how to explain it. I was caught in the memories. My family really liked Marion.”
“That is not helping me. I love your family! I have loved all of you for ten years. But none of them ever knew me. Only you. You, who perhaps prefer Marion.” She crossed her arms. “After all, she sings.”
“Nadia, I love you. And my family would have fallen madly in love with you. Like Lettie and Snag have. Come here.” He reached around and pulled her from her farthest shoulder and she scooted across the bench seat. He put his arm around her and she leaned into him. The wipers continued their steady back and forth and the snow kept on dancing, fluttering in the beam of the headlights.
SIXTY-TWO
Nadia could not stop working on her video. Up late at night while Kache slept upstairs, she thought she was close to finishing. But then she’d started reading about special effects. She wanted to try different techniques, especially slow-motion, in a few spots. She loved how it created a heightened view of the action. Looking at what she had now, frame by frame, intrigued her.
She’d been studying some of the videos people posted on the Internet, especially on YouTube, and when she was done she wanted to figure out how to post hers—which was not as brilliant as some, but better than most. No one would know about it. But how satisfying it would be for her to know it was out there, that she had created it and put it into the world beyond these four walls.
She’d been so busy working, she’d forgotten to carve her mark in the wall earlier that night. She rose to do this now, quickly, in order to get back to her video, looking for a clear space to begin the next grouping of five—she might need to start on a new wall soon. She stuck the knife into the wood and bore down, careful to make the line as straight as possible.
Back in the chair, something snapped outside and her awareness broadened from the computer screen to the tablecloth with its colorful fruit print, to her own reflection in the dark window. Another snap, and Leo scrambled from the floor and twitched his ears up. “Probably just a moose, Leo. Or is it a wolf?” She and Kache had secured the barn and added more chicken wire on the fencing to keep the animals safe. Nadia rubbed her forearms to calm the risen hairs down—she felt them beneath her sweater, then rubbed the top of Leo’s head to calm him down too.
No more sounds from outside, but as she worked, Nadia sometimes felt as if she were being watched. Perhaps this happened when you spent so much time behind a video camera. You began to see your own life as a film. The Great Director, or whomever, calling for another take.
And if her life were indeed a film, where would the next scenes take place? Was she living out a love story? A tragedy? A comedy? That, indeed, was a mystery. If only life fell into such neat categorizations.
Ever since the night at the Spit Tune, Nadia had been thinking about how her and Kache’s lives might or might not fit together. Actually, she’d started even before then, when Lettie told her and Snag about A.R.’s desire to live elsewhere. His sacrifice. It was so much to ask of someone. Too much. When Nadia saw the connection between Marion and Kache, she knew that it went beyond history and music. They were bonded too by this place.
The only other time she’d felt overtaken by jealousy like that was when she’d walked in on Niko and Katarina’s wedding celebration. It was true that she was older now; she had a deeper understanding of the human heart. But hers felt heavier lately.
Kache came back here and his life opened up again. He’d told her countless times, he sang of it too, of how closed down he’d been when he was away, sleepwalking for twenty years. He’d even been playing with new song lyrics that said something like ‘Call me Rip Van Winkel’ but he couldn’t get them to work with the beautiful melody he’d also been working on.
There was no denying that he’d helped her awaken too. But it was only him that had helped her, not this place. This place had saved her once long ago, and she was grateful, but it also became her prison. She knew only this place and the Winkel family. She knew only how they had chosen to live their lives. She had not yet chosen how to live hers. She’d taken on everything they had built and made and even thought. Until this film, she had made nothing lasting of her own. She had worked to feed herself, filling and emptying jars of fruit, vegetables and meat. She had filled her mind with the words of others from the bookshelves of another woman, from her journals too. But Nadia felt that she had not taken in enough of the world firsthand, nor given enough, and she wanted to, oh, how she wanted to.
She must have fallen asleep with her head on the keyboard, because Kache was touching her arm, his voice pulling her awake, “Nadia! The northern lights!”
Her arms and feet flopped behind him as he led her to the coat rack, buttoned up her jacket and held her boots for her to slip into. She was fully awake by the time they got to the back of the truck, where he’d lined the bed with sleeping bags and pillows and blankets, and there they lay to watch the sky pull its miraculous long green and rose curtains to and fro. The curtains transformed into running giants, then falling ribbons, then winding rivers and huge tidal waves, crashing through the heavens.
Kache said, “The Native legends say they’re spirits of those who’ve passed on.”
“Have you seen them before?” she asked.
He said that he had. “Here’s a story you haven’t read in my mother’s journal.” He told her about the night he and Denny, teenagers and left alone for the weekend, raided the liquor cabinet out of boredom, and then out of even more boredom—drunken boredom—decided it would be a good idea to take down their father’s beloved bear head, Anthony, from above the piano and go scare some tourists.
“You did not do this.”
“We did.”
“I have never seen this bear head Anthony.”
Kache told her that’s where the northern lights came in. “We take the ATV up the main road. It’s almost dark and Denny decides he’ll keep the ATV light on and flag down the cars and I’ll stand in the bushes holding up Anthony and of course, growling, like this,” and Kache growled.
“Not very frightening, Kachemak Winkel.”
“Oh come on. You’re terrified, I can tell. Anyway, only problem is, I’ve gotta pee, and if I stop and put Anthony down that will be the very moment a car finally pulls over and all the tourists see is some stupid drunk kid peeing in the bushes, and God knows they can see that anytime in the Lower 48. So I’m holding Anthony above my head for a good hour and doing the pee-pee dance and no cars come. Not one.”
Kache stood and demonstrated a little jig while he held up the imaginary bear head, and Nadia laughed. He plopped back down and said that he finally set Anthony in the bushes and relieved himself and that’s when the northern lights made their appearance. “They don’t show up much on the peninsula and we’d never seen them. And we were absolutely blown away.” They raced home on the ATV, the green splashing out above and beyond them and they climbed up on the roof and watched until dawn.
It was then that they realized they’d left the bear head in the bushes on the side of the road. They went back and looked and looked, but the alcohol had dulled their memories. Denny thought someone had spotted it and carted it off. They made up a story about going into town for a movie and returning to find Anthony gone. Stolen.
“My father was bereft. He filed a report with the police. My mom corralled us into my room the next night and she said, ‘Boys. Do not tell me a thing. I don’t want to know. I just want to thank you from the bottom of my weary heart.’”
Kache laughed—a sharp croak of a laugh. Nadia hugged him. “You’re right. I did not know this story.”
“Good.” He squeezed her. “That’s good.” They too watched and talked until dawn, gazing at the incredible mystery of the sky, and Nadia told him she’d seen the northern lights a number of times.
“Were they as beautiful as tonight?”
“No,” she said, resting her head inside his jacket, against his ribs, watching the roses and greens waltz with each other, on and on and on. “Not like this.” She was sure that nothing in her life, in fact, had ever been as beautiful as this.
PART FIVE
Breakup
2006
SIXTY-THREE
Kache straddled two shifting plates of dirty snow and ice in the garden while Leo dug at something of interest. Underneath and all around, water gurgled, cutting the hillside loose from its winter acquiescence. Breakup was ugly, but man, was it full of promise. In less than a month, the whole land would burst forth in a showy display of fireweed and Indian paintbrush, forget-me-nots, lupine, five different kinds of berry bushes, not to mention the alders, the cottonwoods, the groves of birch trees, leaves filling in with every shade of shimmering green. And that was just the start of it. He’d ordered so many new types of seeds for the garden, he couldn’t wait to see the look on Nadia’s face when they started arriving. He’d already sketched out plans for a greenhouse.
Night was receding earlier, letting the sun make up for its winter laziness, working overtime now, staying lower to the horizon, casting longer shadows. There was nothing like Alaskan light and all the astonishing subtleties that lay between the midnight sun and the winter darkness. A thousand varieties of light. Everyday now, the snow shrank and trickled and the mud oozed in growing patches, exposing everything from crocus shoots to fossils of frozen dog shit to a rusty oilcan and a trash bag left in the yard last autumn.
The House of Frozen Dreams Page 27
