Indivisible Line

by Lorenz Font

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Indivisible Line

  By

  Lorenz Font

  First published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2015

  Copyright © Lorenz Font, 2015

  The right of Lorenz Font to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  All characters and events in this Book – even those sharing the same name as (or based on) real people – are entirely fictional. No person, brand, or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.

  This Book is a work of fiction and should be read as such.

  The Writer’s Coffee Shop

  (Australia) PO Box 447 Cherrybrook NSW 2126

  (USA) PO Box 2116 Waxahachie TX 75168

  Paperback ISBN-978-1-61213-323-2

  E-book ISBN-978-1-61213-324-9

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.

  Cover Images - © Jose Antonio Sánchez Reyes | Dreamstime.com

  Cover Artist - Claudia Trapp/Phantasy Graphic Designwww.phantasygraphicdesign.com

  www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/LFont

  Dedication

  A big hug and kiss to my Bunny. Thanks for stepping in and taking charge, and for giving me all the time I need to chase my dream.

  This is for you.

  Chapter 1

  “I have no idea how you can stand it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sarah Jones shot a glance at her best friend.

  “Living here,” Lily Markham muttered with indignation, darting a challenging look in Sarah’s direction.

  Sarah remained unimpressed, not putting much stock in the statement. Raising her long legs onto the desk and crossing them at the ankles, she shrugged her shoulders, refusing to be baited into expressing agreement with her friend’s complaints.

  “I can’t wait to leave this hellhole,” Lily whined. It had become a regular habit for her.

  “Why are you so hell-bent on leaving this place? I’ve been out there before.” Sarah waved her hand toward the window to indicate the vast open space encompassing their home and whatever lay beyond it. “To tell you the truth, you’re not missing much.”

  “Because …” Lily showed her fingers and began ticking off her reasons. “One, this is a dead-end existence. We’ll live and die here. Two, I can’t be with Trimble here. Three, the laws are suffocating. The whole tribe looks at you like you’re entertainment. You want more?”

  Sarah shook her head in response. Lily was a friend who understood Sarah’s misgivings and fears, but she was also blunt, honest, and often afflicted with foot-in-mouth disease. These attributes gave Lily the firepower to sling words and facts at Sarah, making her question both her sanity and her commitment to following the orders given by their tribe.

  For years now, Lily had never failed to express her distaste for the laws of their land. She was most vocal in her criticism of the unfair denial of technology she believed they should be enjoying, as well the impending arranged marriage that would take place in the not-so-distant future and would rob her of the chance to be with the man she loved.

  For the most part, Sarah didn’t mind it, but there were times when she disagreed with the decisions of Ahila, their Tribal Chief and her father. She often thought their modest town could use some better equipment for the clinic, another computer for their solitary school, and other newer gadgets to help usher their tribe into the modern era. However, Ahila had refused each suggestion, citing the requested items as trivial and unnecessary.

  “What we have is enough,” her father often said, and each time, she’d clamp her mouth shut and leave the topic alone. All the other elders, at least those who were not yet senile, tended to agree with him. They still embraced the old ways. Lily called them “old school,” which happened to be an apt description of the deciding members of their community.

  “No, I get what you’re saying.” Bitterness now laced Sarah’s tone. “So if you’re so unhappy being here, why don’t you leave? Just like the others.” She couldn’t make herself turn her back on her people and the only home she’d ever known, and she envied those who could. The truth was that she lacked the guts those who had left possessed and had put to use.

  Many kids her age ran away at the first chance they could find. They left the suffocating traditions behind not just because they loathed the slow pace but more because of the fear of stagnation. In their eyes, there wasn’t much the town could offer for their futures.

  “I can’t leave,” Lily protested with a soft cry, jerking back as if she’d been slapped in the face. The reason behind her refusal to pack her bags and go was no secret—Trimble Meda. The complication still remained. He was betrothed to Sarah.

  “I thought so. If I were you, I’d stop acting like you have the ability to pick up and leave anytime you want. People are starting to talk, and we don’t want Father to hear about what you’ve been saying. You know he won’t hesitate to give you the boot.” It wasn’t a threat but a fact. Sarah hated talking to Lily in such a manner, in particular when it came to Trimble. Still, like it or not, there were some things they couldn’t change, no matter how much they may have wanted to.

  For Sarah, following the rules had always come easy. She had grown up with a stern father, who knew very little about how to show affection. Ahila governed his Gwich’in tribe and their little enclave in Beaver, Alaska, with an iron fist. He had lost her mother before Sarah had reached puberty, so he had brought up his only child single-handedly in the best way he knew. Her father was strict and unbending. Their house had felt more like a military base than a home. Within its walls, rules were to be followed and no questions asked.

  “You shouldn’t be so accepting, Sarah. You’re engaged to someone you don’t love. I’m sick of all this self-sacrificing crap. Would you really rather be an obedient daughter and a slave to your people than living your life the way you want?” Lily seemed to regret her words as soon as she’d spoken them. She cupped her hands over her eyes. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

  Sarah shrugged. “Maybe I do. I don’t know.”

  The two women lapsed into silence and listened to the roaring of a moped’s engine as it whirred by and the chirping of the birds in the nearby forest.

  Sarah fixed her gaze on the fishbowl that sat on her desk, watching the goldfish swim around in endless circles. Her reality sucked, and she knew it. Was she doomed to be just like the goldfish, swimming around in circles? There was nothing to look forward to in the future except marrying a man she
didn’t love. Sure, everyone considered Trimble an excellent catch—he was the good, solid, hardworking kind of man many women hankered for. However, Sarah knew that a loveless union would be just the beginning of her troubles to come. How far would she and Trimble allow their extreme tradition dictate their fate?

  “I have to go.” Lily stood in an abrupt movement. She brushed away her brown hair, which clung to her tear-streaked face, and ran for the door. On her way out, she grabbed the little basket that contained her knitting supplies.

  Sarah felt sorry for her friend, but there was nothing she could do. Traditions were important, and she wouldn’t defy her father’s wishes. Even if it means sacrificing your happiness and freedom? a little voice in her head asked.

  “Yes.”

  Now wasn’t that creepy? It was one thing to hear voices in her head, but answering them out loud was downright disturbing.

  Somewhat disconcerted, she continued to stare at the fish in its bowl. Its repetitive, stagnant life was not so different from her own. She was up at five every morning to do her chores. Between taking care of her father and herself, there wasn’t’ much time left for anything else. Her father was a simple man, doing little and saying even less. However, his demands were larger than life.

  Life with the chief was like living by herself. The most excitement in her twenty-six years came when she had been accepted to UCLA with a free ride to obtain her undergrad. Afterward, the tribe had started forking over the tuition for her to attend med school. That gesture alone made it impossible for Sarah to even consider turning her back on her tribe. She was stuck living with their stifling traditions out of a deep sense of loyalty and obligation. So, she’d curbed her dreams of leaving town and had resigned herself to spending her life serving her people.

  My life is as exciting as pounding a nail into a piece of wood. Sarah snorted at the thought.

  Although she was due back in Los Angeles in a month for the start of her final year, she was now home for the summer break to help out as much as she was able. There was little excitement in their sleepy town, so a part of her daily routine was to jog around the neighborhood each day. Running kept her sane and provided her with an excuse to socialize with her neighbors.

  Her four-mile circuit pretty much covered the radius of the entire inhabited town. Beaver offered the peace and serenity many people sought. If you were looking, finding yourself in surroundings like these was almost too damn easy. You could hear yourself think, and having Mother Nature in your backyard made it all the more enticing. The town offered picturesque mountains, lush rivers, and abundant wildlife, all ready for one’s enjoyment.

  How miniscule and dull Beaver seemed, though, when compared to the life she had experienced in Los Angeles. The city was a fascinating melting pot of every type of people imaginable, and she’d fallen in love with the place as soon as she set foot on campus her freshman year. Sarah adored her second home. Living in a big city had always been her dream as a child growing up, and Los Angeles offered large helpings of fun and excitement. It made her feel like a child in the middle of a candy store.

  Adjusting herself on the tattered leather chair, Sarah stretched her tanned legs before slipping them underneath the desk. She picked up the book she had abandoned upon Lily’s arrival and returned to the page she’d been reading. Most days, the suspense-fiction she preferred could take her mind off things, but today her attention continued to wander. Still bothered by Lily’s words, she abandoned her book and stared outside the window.

  Passing the time in Beaver could get tricky since there was nothing much to do. Over the past month since her return, she had methodically arranged, rearranged, alphabetized, and indexed all medical inventories, from supplies to medications. Bottles, bins, and containers were labeled, and all instruments had been sterilized in case of an emergency—not that she’d expect any.

  Her father had allowed her to work here as an assistant, trusting she had enough knowledge to help with common illnesses within the tribe. The absence of a full-time physician was the driving force behind the tribe’s decision to finance her medical degree. After she graduated, she would be expected to serve the tribe in return. Being a doctor had been a lifelong dream of Sarah’s, so she accepted that her education came at a price.

  Lily knew how she felt, but she never understood Sarah’s acceptance and dedication. Sarah loved her father, and despite the constant urge to spread her wings, she wasn’t planning on leaving. She was proud of her heritage. While she understood the town’s limitations in terms of growth, she hoped that, one day, she could help usher in acceptable changes to keep its people moving forward. With that goal, she could embrace what was being asked of her and serve her tribe.

  In this day and age, children left the comfort of home to be on their own. Sarah never felt the need to do that, though. Being a doctor was what mattered most to her. She knew that once she qualified, she would be instrumental in helping the town in moving forward.

  The one consideration that took the luster out of her ideal existence was her dreaded marriage to Trimble. Sarah still hadn’t lost all hope that her father would realize what a gargantuan mistake it would be to push forward with his plan. She hoped to persuade him to allow her the freedom to choose when the time was right, but for now, she’d go with the flow.

  You don’t have a backbone. You’re letting him run your life, the little voice in her head nagged.

  “Oh, shut it. Papa’s sick, and aggravating him is the last thing I’m going to do. For now, I’ll concentrate on getting my degree. When he sees that I’ve succeeded, I’m sure he’ll ease up on me.”

  You sound so sure your plan will work.

  It would. It had to. Using her continued medical services as a bargaining chip, she’d be able to convince him that an arranged marriage wasn’t necessary.

  Will it work? It was a constant, nagging question that surfaced whenever uncertainty started creeping into her thoughts.

  These days, boredom was her constant companion. Trimble’s brush with a black bear had been the most action she’d seen all month. He’d sustained deep gashes in his back that had required several stitches. Other than that, it was most often cases of the flu, infections, and routine checkups. Sitting and waiting for patients to come meant endless hours of unproductive time. Her job had its rewarding moments, but the downtime seemed endless. Sarah longed to get some action, an honest-to-goodness hard day’s labor. But what could be expected from her small town of Beaver with its population of just one hundred thirty-six? Thanks to pregnant Leonor Kassi, the head count would be increasing soon. Funny how one birth could send the dull and sleepy town into an excited frenzy.

  They had a running joke around Beaver: “Your business is everybody’s business.” Truth be told, there was nothing people didn’t know about each other. If you slept, pissed, or attended the tribal meeting, it was common knowledge. Despite the open spaces Alaska had to offer, it seemed like the residents of their little town were all crammed together like sardines.

  Hours later, the walkie-talkie on the desk crackled, signaling an announcement from Kenny, the town liaison. Everyone called him Jack, the nickname stemming from his multiple functions in the tribe. Not only was he their town spokesman, but he also could see to plumbing needs or even fix any electrical problems. A town as small as Beaver required everyone to multitask in order to survive within the limited confines of their land, and Jack did an admirable job of living up to his name. Fairbanks was a half an hour away, but it was the nearest big city they could rely on for important supplies, postal needs, and a connection to the outside world.

  The clinic’s radio sounded—it was their cheapest but most reliable means of communication. Certain areas, such as the town hall and the clinic, had access to phone lines, and there was one cell tower on the outskirts of town. They didn’t need additional towers. No one could afford cell phones with their meager incomes anyway. The tower had been built for the tourists and hunters, who happened to be the
ir number-one source of income.

  The Gwich’in’s, also known as the Caribou People, were still dependent on the caribou, which were a vital source for food, clothing, and tools. The animal still held a sacred place in their spiritual beliefs and was a source of guidance in their traditions. The caribou was used for both their livelihood and sustenance.

  Fishing came third on the list of income generators. Beyond that, there was nothing much their town had to offer, in particular to outsiders.

  Many were opposed to letting the tourists in, but the need to survive won. So they opened the Caribou Hunting Expedition Company to assist avid hunters and provide them with a safe hunting environment. Much of their business came from repeat customers, and word of mouth didn’t hurt. The income brought much relief of their financial woes. Now that it was the peak of the summer hunting season, it was the best time to attract tourists and let them spend their savings for the thrill of a lifetime.

  Trimble worked for the expedition team, acting as the guide, driver, and gofer. This not only made him more popular amongst the female population but also a precious asset to their town’s booming business. As was to be expected, everyone loved the idea of Sarah and Trimble together. A marriage between the most popular guy and the soon-to-be doctor seemed ideal. Well, she may not have agreed, but there was no sense in worrying about something beyond her control. She’d cross the bridge once she got to it. Defying her father’s arrangement wasn’t something she had the nerve to attempt just yet.

  “Sarah!” the radio blared, pulling her thoughts back to the here-and-now. She snatched the transmitter from the table and pressed the button.