by Lois Richer
Given his curiosity about Alicia Featherstone, he should probably refuse to work with her. But he wasn’t going to. He had too many questions that demanded answers.
Chapter Three
Alicia awoke feeling watched.
Sure enough, when she peeked through her lashes she found a dark brown gaze fixed on her. Self-conscious and disheveled, she swallowed and tried to think of what to say to Jack’s daughter.
“You snore.” Giselle flopped into the seat her father had obviously vacated while Alicia was asleep. “Delicately, but still. It’s snoring.”
“Good morning.” Alicia gave her a pointed look. “My name is Alicia Featherstone. And you’re Giselle, I understand. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah.” The girl flicked her long hair over one shoulder. “I guess that was rude.”
Ignoring her unrepentant stare, Alicia said nothing. She pulled a brush from her purse, undid her braids and combed out her hair before swirling it into a topknot on her head.
“Sorry.” Giselle didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
“I hear you’re moving to Churchill,” Alicia said, cutting her some slack.
“So Jack says.” The chip on Giselle’s shoulder was huge.
“Jack?” Alicia tamped down her irritation at this cheeky child.
“Well, I can’t really call him Dad, now can I?” Giselle snapped in a sour tone.
“Why not?” Spoiled, Alicia thought to herself.
Yet her heart ached for the confused girl. Giselle’s world had been rocked, first by her mom’s death and then by learning nothing she’d believed about her family was true. Moving away from all that was familiar couldn’t be easy, either.
“Jack hasn’t been your dad for all these years?” she asked gently.
“Yes.” Giselle whooshed out a breath that blew her bangs all over. “He has. He’s been a really good father and I love him a lot. That’s why this is so hard. He lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie, Giselle.” Jack stood in the aisle. His face conveyed his hurt.
“Lied by omission then.” She jumped up and held out a hand. “Can I have some money to buy breakfast?”
“I guess I’m your father enough for that, huh?” Jack muttered with a sideways glance at his daughter. She simply shrugged. He transferred the two cups he carried into one hand then fished several bills out of his shirt pocket and handed them over. Giselle flounced away. “Nothing for me, thanks,” he muttered, staring longingly at her departing figure.
“Preteen. It’s a horrible age,” Alicia consoled. “She’ll get over it.”
“Soon, I hope.” He held out a lidded cup. “Coffee. I figured you could use some. You look great, but it wasn’t the most restful night I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the cup, freezing for a moment when his warm fingers brushed hers. “Maybe I’m used to these chairs because I’ve ridden the train so often.”
“To get your store stock?”
“Uh-huh. The sleeper cars are always booked far in advance. Since I’m never sure when I’ll be on the train, I always sleep in the chairs,” she explained. “I don’t mind traveling at this time of year. The landscape is amazing. Seeing spring arrive from the train is far more interesting than watching snow drift in winter.” She sipped her coffee, enjoying the rich dark flavor. “Thank you for this.”
“Sure. My sister told me about a project you’re planning for her Lives boys. That’s what locals call her rehabilitation center, right?”
“Yes.” Alicia nodded. “It’s a shortened version of Lives Under Construction, which we use to refer to the army barracks she’s renovated, the outbuildings and all the land around.”
“I thought so.” Jack sat down, stretching his legs in front. “So—a sod house, right? Laurel asked me to help.”
“She did?” Alicia stared at him. “I didn’t know that.” She shook her head, uneasy at the prospect of having Jack nearby, watching her. “You don’t have to bother. We’ll manage. The boys are very responsible.”
“I’m sure they are. But I promised and I don’t break my promises to Laurel, ever. She’s the older sister and she makes me pay,” he teased. Then a frown flickered across his face. “It sounds like you don’t want my help.”
“It’s not that.” She bit her bottom lip, struggling to rephrase the truth.
“Don’t worry, Alicia. I know how to take directions.” He chuckled when she couldn’t mask her dubious expression. “I’ll help, but the hotel will have to come first.” He tipped his head to one side, studying her. “How did you come up with the sod house idea anyway?”
“From a display I saw.” She leaned her back against the window to put as much distance between them as possible. She would have moved across the aisle if Giselle hadn’t left her things scattered over both seats.
Oddly enough, Jack’s nearness didn’t make Alicia feel unsafe and it wasn’t just that he was a cop and also Laurel’s brother. Jack was still grieving for his wife. She couldn’t imagine he was the type to try to take advantage of her here on a public train. But mostly she wasn’t worried because he’d emphasized that he intended to remain single.
Still, his nearness caused a nervousness deep inside her that Alicia didn’t understand.
“What kind of a display?” Jack asked.
“It was held inside a caribou tent and it was amazing.” She tried to explain but cut it short when his eyes began to glaze. “Anyway, the presenters were descendants of an original settlement family. Their elder told stories about how their ancestors built sod houses to live in. I thought it would be fun to build one as a summer project for the boys. Kyle Loness—he’s the activities director at Lives—and Rick Salinger, our minister, have both promised to help.”
“Sounds interesting. Do you have a book about it, or plans?” Jack asked.
“No,” Alicia answered, slewing her eyes to the window, though there was nothing unusual in the muskeg pushing up to reveal the permafrost beneath. “All I have is a rough sketch an elder drew for me.”
“Well, I guess you could get the library to order some books.” Jack savored his coffee, his face thoughtful. “You can’t just go out and start digging. You’ll need some kind of plan.”
Alicia gulped, because that was exactly what she’d intended to do—start digging as soon as the town allocated the land. Now she realized how silly that was. Of course they would need a plan. Houses were built in stages.
Rattled by the thought of being asked to consult a book, she knew she’d have to be careful or else Jack and the rest of Churchill would discover she couldn’t read very well. Her mother had tried to teach her when their remote village lost its teacher, but her English hadn’t been great. When she’d been moved to Vancouver, Alicia had struggled and failed to catch up.
“Since you’ll be helping us, perhaps you wouldn’t mind contacting the library,” she said, crossing her fingers that he’d accept.
“I guess I could.” His forehead furrowed, he plied her with questions.
Alicia answered as best she could but his proximity unnerved her. She was grateful when Giselle finally returned.
“I hope you don’t mind if I ask this.” The girl stood in the aisle, leaning against the seat in front. “You’re an Indian, aren’t you?”
Jack choked on his coffee then glared at Giselle, clearly aggravated by her impudence.
“Native Canadian Indian, yes.” Alicia held her gaze as she said the words proudly, refusing to back down. “Why?”
“One of my teachers said you often have names that have special meanings.”
“You’re asking if Alicia is a traditional Native name?” she said.
“Yes, like Piapot.” Giselle frowned. “Do you know what that name means?”
“One who knows the secrets of the Sioux.” She hid her smile as Giselle’s eyes brightened. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m afraid I’m just plain Alicia Featherstone.”
“Well, at least you have Featherst
one, though I don’t know what meaning that could have. Feathers and stones are complete opposites,” Giselle complained.
“Sorry.” Alicia hid her smile. “If you’re interested in learning about Chief Piapot, every Thursday night I lead a campfire at Lives. I tell the boys stories of Native history. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Thanks.” Giselle’s smile lit up her face. She returned to her seat across the aisle. Moments later she was busy on her pink cell phone.
“I’m sorry,” Jack apologized. “Sometimes I have no clue what will come out of her mouth. I’m not sure she does, either.”
Alicia burst out laughing. “Forget it. That in-your-face attitude is what makes kids so refreshing.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” he said drily. “Hey, we’re slowing down.”
“Yes. We’ll arrive in Churchill soon.” She smiled. “Did I ever thank you for rescuing my packages?”
“I wouldn’t want Tansi’s stock to go missing.” He studied her for a moment. “I don’t know much about your kind of business, but Laurel says you’re doing very well. Have you ever considered expanding? There’s a much bigger market outside of Churchill that could use some education about your culture.”
Warmth exploded inside her. At last, someone who thought like her. She gazed at Jack with admiration.
“I dream about having a second store, maybe in Winnipeg, but I haven’t worked out how to do it.” Alicia hesitated, realizing she’d just shared her dream with a total stranger, a dream no one else knew about. Why was it so easy to talk to Jack?
Just as quickly her excitement drained away. There was no point in thinking about future expansion with him or anyone else. People like her with no sources of funding didn’t have second or third stores. And now that Mr. Parcet was asking questions about her, it was only a matter of time before he’d show up to get information. He wasn’t going to get it from her, of course, but she had to put her dreams on hold and concentrate on making sure her son was safe before Mr. Parcet found her.
How do I do that, God, when I don’t know where he is?
Alicia stared out the window, lost in ways and means she might employ. The first thing would be to talk to the social worker she’d been assigned when she was fifteen and had given up her son. What was her name? Mrs. End-something. Endecott? Enderby? Endersley, that was it. She silently repeated the name to fix it in her mind.
“I want to talk to Alicia, Dad. Can we change seats for a while?”
Alicia blinked out of her thoughts and found Jack studying her. He raised one eyebrow.
“Do you mind speaking with Giselle?” he said. “It’s okay if you’d rather rest.”
“She’s not old, Dad. She doesn’t have to rest.” Scorn laced Giselle’s shrill tone.
“Actually I’ve been up for about thirty-six hours and I am a bit tired, Jack.” Alicia smiled at him, deliberately cutting Giselle out of the conversation. She felt sorry for the child, but she wanted to make a point to Giselle to curb her attitude.
“I’m sorry.” Giselle was a quick study. She looked remorseful as she shook her head. “You must be exhausted. It’s just that I’m curious about those stories you mentioned. Will you tell me more?”
Wasn’t her life goal to bring awareness and knowledge to the world about her culture? Alicia nodded. “I guess we could talk for a while, if your father is agreeable.”
“As long as you are.” Jack waited for Alicia’s nod. He gave her a quizzical smile before he rose and moved across the aisle.
Giselle sat down in the seat he vacated. She fiddled with her hands for a few moments before she looked at Alicia. “My mother would have been furious if she’d heard me be rude,” she admitted.
“And you want to get back at her for dying, or something?” Alicia frowned.
“No.” Giselle shook her head.
“Your father then?” And here she’d thought preteens would be easy to understand. Alicia took a shot anyway. “You blame your dad.”
“For Mom’s death?” Giselle frowned and shook her head again. “I don’t blame him but—”
“You want him to pay,” Alicia said in sudden understanding.
“I want my life back the way it was,” the girl said fiercely with a sideways glance at her dad, who had his nose buried between two black covers. “I want my mom.”
“I know you do. But that isn’t going to happen, Giselle, and I think you know it.” Alicia kept her tone gentle. “I doubt your dad likes the way things are any better than you, but don’t forget he lost someone, too. I’m sure he’s doing the very best he can.”
“It’s not enough.” Tears filled Giselle’s dark eyes. “Aunt Laurel says I need to talk to God about it, but I’m mad at God, too.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and thrust out her chin. “I feel mad at just about everyone.”
“I understand.” Alicia laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Maybe this won’t help much right now, but things will get better. Eventually. God has wonderful things planned for you.”
“You think?” Giselle stared at her, her big brown eyes begging for confirmation.
“I know. There’s a verse in Psalms that I sometimes repeat to myself. It says, ‘Weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning.’”
“My mom had something like that written in one of her diaries,” Giselle murmured. She was silent for a long time before she brushed away a tear and rose. “I really do want to hear your stories, Alicia, but maybe you and I could talk another time. Excuse me.” Then she scooted across the aisle.
“I don’t know what you said,” Jack said when he eventually returned to the seat beside Alicia. “But thank you. Giselle apologized to me.”
“Don’t thank me. You have a lovely daughter.” Alicia shared a smile with him, but it lasted a second too long and that made her stomach clench. This man had an odd effect on her and she didn’t know why. She ducked away from his gaze. “We’re coming into the station,” she said. “Would you mind giving me my things you put up top? I’ll pull out my sweater and try to stuff the packages into the backpack so you can have your bag back.”
“Keep it. You can return it next time we see each other,” he said. Once the train stopped, Jack rose, lifted down her bags and handed them to her. “I’m looking forward to working with you on that sod house, Alicia.” His blue gaze sent a tiny spark wiggling up her spine.
“Me, too.” Funny thing was she meant it.
Alicia stepped off the train and quickly made her way through the station and outside, anxious to get away from Jack’s disturbing presence so she could figure out her odd reaction. A soft spring wind blew across her skin, chasing away the odd tremors she’d felt when she stood so close to him. The fresh air revitalized her. How wonderful to come home.
Then she remembered. Mr. Parcet.
After a furtive glance over one shoulder Alicia hurried toward her shop, checking every so often to be sure he wasn’t nearby. Of course he wasn’t, she chastised herself. He hadn’t been on the train. But the worry clung nonetheless.
It was silly, but Alicia gave a sigh of relief as she unlocked the store door and stepped safely inside. She turned the sign to Open, switched on the lights and then strode to the back, where she set down the bag Jack had lent her.
She climbed the stairs to her apartment above the shop, pausing to toss her backpack into her bedroom and wash the tiredness from her face. After snatching a carton of juice and a muffin from the fridge, she hurried downstairs, eager to unpack her wares. She forced herself to eat slowly as anticipation built about the treasures she’d picked up on her trip.
Alicia had barely removed the first box when the door opened.
“Giselle and I are going out to Lives tonight for supper,” Jack said, holding up his phone. “Laurel says you’re welcome, too.”
“That’s kind of you but perhaps another time,” Alicia declined.
“Okay. See you.” Jack raised his hand in a wave then left as quickly as he’d
come. Alicia ignored her accelerated heartbeat as she dragged her gaze off his retreating figure.
What was wrong with her?
After one last sip of juice she washed her hands, then tenderly pushed away the protective tissue paper so she could lift out the first treasure. In her palms she cradled the chiseled figure of a woman with a baby papoose strapped to her back. Mother and child. Alicia let her mind drift back almost ten years.
Her son. Even now the scent of him returned, soft, sweet, a miracle. Tiny, delicate limbs, so small yet so perfectly formed. Her heart hiccupped as she remembered one pink finger reaching up to brush her cheek, as if he knew who she was, as if he was asking her to rethink her decision to give him away.
Tears rolled over her cheeks as the sadness Alicia had kept tamped down would no longer stay buried. She hated everything that brought him into being, but she’d never hated him. She couldn’t. He was beautiful, innocent and so full of promise. He didn’t deserve hate. He deserved love, a chance to push his way into the world, to prove that everything was not dirty and evil and messed up. He deserved happiness. Alicia had known she couldn’t give him that.
“Alicia?” Jack stood in the doorway again, staring at her. How was it she hadn’t heard the tinkle of the bell signaling the opening door?
She turned away, scrubbed a hand across her cheek then set the figure carefully in the box before she looked at him. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” he asked in that already familiar low, rumbling voice.
“Fine. Just touched by the beauty of this piece.” She glanced at the sculpture, then folded her hands together lest he see their trembling. “Is there something you need?”
He cleared his voice but said nothing. His scrutiny continued. Finally she forced herself to look directly at him.
“I just wanted to tell you that I think it’ll take me at least a week of steady focus on the hotel before I can even think about working on the sod house.” He sounded hesitant. Was he regretting his offer of help?
“That’s fine,” she said to give him an out. “It’s only May. The kids won’t be finished school until the end of June anyway. There’s plenty of time.”
