Dreamkeepers

by Dorothy Garlock

  Cheap and vulgar flirting was the way Jonathan had put it that night when he lost his temper and lectured her with a cruel, icy tongue. He had marched her upstairs to their bedroom and made love to her as if she was a woman he’d paid for. After that, she realized, she had grown frightened of him and began shrinking from him, retreating farther and farther within herself in order not to risk his disapproval.

  They had done each other great damage by getting married. She could never be anything except what she was. He could never take her lively, outgoing personality and reshape it to fit into his world. In the process of trying to do so he was destroying everything that was unique and alive about her that had attracted him to her in the first place. She had become quiet and withdrawn, a person she scarcely knew herself. If she had hurt Jonathan, she bitterly regretted it. She only knew he was not the man she had met in Anchorage and she could not continue living with him. There was only one thing to do.

  Once she’d decided, Kelly’s mind clicked into gear. While she packed, tears trickled down her face and ran into her mouth. She wiped her eyes and pushed damp fingers through her hair. Where had their love gone? It was dead! You couldn’t take warm, sweet love and put it in an atmosphere like this and expect it to survive. Divorce was easy these days. Jonathan would find a way to get it over with quickly—and without publicity. With her gone, the blame could be laid at her feet and he could save face.

  She began to regain her self-respect. With it came anger like acid in her stomach. She thought about the reception she had received from his sister, about the cold, icy treatment her husband had given her, about the times he had spoken to her as if she tried to seduce every man she talked with. She remembered many times he had brought up Mike’s name as if he were a stupid laborer with nothing on his mind but getting her to bed.

  She had been the stupid one! She had no one to blame but herself, and it was up to her to get herself out of this impossible situation.

  Kelly packed one large suitcase with the things she had brought with her, plus a few things Jonathan—when he was Jack—had bought for her in Anchorage. She placed the large sapphire and diamond ring on top of the note she left on the bedside table. On second thought, she placed her credit cards beside the note, which simply said that they both knew their marriage was a mistake and for him not to worry. She didn’t want any kind of settlement—only her freedom. She regretted that she had been an embarrassment to him and to his sister.

  Kelly walked out of the apartment building feeling like a new person. About the time Jonathan, Katherine, and Nancy were greeting their dinner guests, she was stepping off the plane in Portland, Oregon.

  The trip had given Kelly time to organize her thoughts. On the way to the airport she had stopped at the bank and withdrawn the money her father had left her. She’d recounted it on the plane. Even after paying for her ticket, she had enough to tide her over until she could find a job.

  She had learned advertising layout at the newspaper in Anchorage. Her ads were good and original, and the salesmen who took them to the advertiser had little trouble selling them.

  In Portland, Kelly found an efficiency apartment in a moderately priced building. After putting in a supply of food, she went to bed and stayed there for almost two days. She slept, got up and fixed herself a meal, then went back to sleep again. Not until she was in the quiet of her own place with no one to criticize her every move, did she realize how exhausted she was or how her nerves had stretched to almost the breaking point.

  The first place she applied for a job hired her. The big, pleasant man who interviewed her was impressed with her knowledge of layout. There was one catch, however. She had to sell her own ideas to the advertisers. She would have a list of potential customers, no other salesman would infringe on her territory, and she would receive a commission, plus salary.

  The first month she was astounded at the size of her commission check. She enjoyed her job, and being her own person once again. If she thought about Jack—she was back to thinking of him as Jack—he seemed a person she had met in a very nice dream. She never allowed herself to think about Boston. The months that had seemed so endless became blurred together in her head like a television show she had watched and half-forgotten.

  Kelly had been in Portland for four months when she called Marty in Fairbanks and learned that Jonathan was looking for her. Marty giggled when Kelly told her about coming to Portland because that was the only connection she could make when her plane from Boston had reached Chicago. Marty explained that Mike had been especially worried about her after Jonathan, himself, had come out to the resort looking for her. They promised to keep in touch and Kelly swore Marty to secrecy.

  That Jonathan was looking for her didn’t bother Kelly at all. Let him wait to get his divorce papers signed, she thought bitterly. The wait would pay him back, in some small way, for the miserable time she had spent with him.

  The months turned into a year and Kelly began to get homesick for the cozy cabin deep in the Alaskan bush. Soon the autumn snows would fall, and the clouds would scutter before the frigid winds. The days would become short, the nights long. Inside the cabin, warmed by a roaring wood fire, she would feel secure and at peace. She had saved more money than she had dreamed of saving in so short a time. Her little nest egg would go a long way toward putting the resort into operation again.

  Kelly worked extra hard for another month, picked up her commission check, suffered through a farewell party given by fellow staff members, and caught a plane to Anchorage.

  It was October. The Alaskan days were already short. Kelly sent word to Mike that she’d arrive on the afternoon train, and he was there waiting for her in the utility truck. He didn’t ask any questions and she didn’t offer any explanations.

  The semi-darkened cabin was warm from the fire Mike had built in the fireplace before he came to meet her. He set her suitcases inside the door and went out to put the utility truck in the shed. She wished she didn’t know how he felt about her. But it was good to be home and that thought crowded all others from her mind for the moment. She sighed heavily and sank down on the worn couch, pulled Aunt Mary’s afghan over her, and went back to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  EVERYTHING WAS AT peace in Kelly’s world except her stomach, which was protesting loudly from lack of food. She dipped warm water from the reservoir and washed her face and hands. That would have to do for now. Tomorrow she would turn on the electric water heater and take a long, leisurely bath. As she stood there, Kelly’s gaze was caught by her reflection in the small oak-framed mirror over the sink. At twenty-five she was hardly over the hill, yet she was disturbingly aware that she was no longer the young, starry-eyed creature who’d left the bush five years ago.

  She still remembered what it was like those first few years. As she walked down the street, she positively beamed with the pleasure of living. People turned to stare at her, not because she was so outstandingly beautiful, but because her face glowed with health and animation. Her walk, her whole being was suffused with robust enthusiasm that captured their attention.

  Nothing brought a girl down to earth faster than a bad marriage, she thought, hanging up the towel. The sentimental dream-bubble of everlasting love with one man had burst, leaving her achingly empty.

  The door opened and Mike’s voice filled the cabin.

  “Behold! Food cometh!” He kicked the door closed behind him and brought a small iron dutch oven to the cooking range. He lifted the lid and a delicious aroma wreathed up and filled the room.

  “Chili! Smells great and I’m starved.”

  “Me, too. Get the bowls and we’ll dig in.” Mike hung his jacket on a peg beside the door.

  “Not until I wash off two years growth of dust and mouse droppings.” Kelly lifted the lid on the reservoir again and ladled hot water into a dish pan.

  “A few mouse droppings won’t hurt you.” Mike grinned.

  “Ugh! Don’t talk about it!”

  Kelly was
hed the bowls and the silverware, glancing occasionally at Mike’s reflection in the mirror. He had turned a chair around and was straddling it. She could almost hear Aunt Mary say, “Michael, turn around and sit properly, for Pete’s sake.” Mike was looking older, too, Kelly thought, although they were both twenty-five. His hair was not quite as flaxen as it used to be, but it was still thick. He wasn’t a handsome man; his face was too irregular for that. She could remember when she had been taller than Mike. Oh, how that used to bug him! Finally when they were about eighteen he had caught up with her, and now there wasn’t a half-inch difference in their heights.

  She felt guilty because she couldn’t love him the way he wanted to be loved. Sometimes she wished desperately that she could feel a soul-stirring pleasure in his arms, feel electrified by his touch. He was so comfortable, so dear. He deserved much more than she could give him.

  “You’re going to rub holes in those bowls,” Mike said softly.

  The silence was charged with expectancy. Their relationship from now on would depend on this evening. Oh, God! Kelly thought, she’d need help. She didn’t want to hurt him.

  “Maybe so, but they’re clean. Fill them up and let’s eat. My stomach thinks I’ve deserted it.”

  “That’s not all you deserted,” Mike said with his back to her. “Why in the hell did you marry him, Kelly?”

  “Love. A vastly overrated emotion, as I soon discovered.”

  He set the bowls on the table and rested a hand on the top of her head. “I’ve missed you.”

  She nodded, not answering, not disputing. She had missed him too . . . and Marty. They had been a part of each other for most of their lives and her marriage had cut her off from them.

  “What happened when Jonathan came here?”

  Mike’s wide mouth hardened. “Not much.”

  “But what?”

  “He looked around the place like he was a king inspecting the hovels where the peasants live. I should have punched him in the nose.” Mike got up, opened a cabinet door, and slammed it shut. “I wish I’d brought some coffee.”

  “Go get it and I’ll make a pot later,” Kelly said absently.

  Mike refilled his chili bowl. “What happened to the marriage?” he asked when he was sitting across from her again.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Pain made her voice harsh.

  “From what I saw of him, he’s a stiff-necked, arrogant, smart-ass!”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Mike. The marriage is over!”

  “Not according to him. He said, and I quote, ‘She is not getting a divorce. She will be my wife until the day she dies.’”

  Kelly’s eyes flicked up to meet his and she saw the anger there. Her face flushed under his probing stare.

  She shrugged. “He’ll get sick of that after a while. His sister will be on his tail to divorce me and eventually he will. In the meanwhile, I couldn’t care less about what he does. I never intend to marry again, so he has more to lose than I do.” She looked up to see what effect her words had on Mike, but his face was bent over his bowl and his spoon paused only momentarily on its way to his mouth.

  He shot her a closed look. “How long are you going to stick around here?”

  She laughed. “Trying to get rid of me already? Think I might interfere with your weekend orgies?”

  He grinned, relaxing. “You’ve got to realize, woodenhead,” he said, using his old pet name for her, “that I’m a man with all the normal urges and won’t wait forever.”

  “I know, Mike. We’re too much like brother and sister to ever be anything more. Remember, Mike, Mike, go fly a kite? And Kelly, Kelly, with a big, fat belly?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “It was fun growing up here. I wonder what would have happened to us if Uncle Henry hadn’t taken us in.”

  “He never took you in, Mike. Aunt Mary worked hard and made the lodge pay off. My only regret is that she and Dad never married. I know they loved each other.”

  “Oh, I don’t think they missed out on much,” he said, with a satisfied smile. “I used to catch them kissing in the kitchen and every once in a while I’d see Uncle Henry pinch her on the bottom.”

  “You didn’t! Why didn’t you tell Marty and me?”

  “Lots of things happened around here that I didn’t tell you and Marty,” he said insolently.

  “That was stinking of you!”

  “Yeah, wasn’t it?”

  “What other goodies didn’t you tell us?” Kelly asked in an exasperated tone. This was a game Mike played very well. In the old days he used to torment her and Marty with his “I know something you don’t know” attitude and they would follow him for days trying to wheedle information out of him. “You haven’t changed a bit!”

  “You have.” He leered, his eyes lingering on her soft, rounded breasts beneath the pullover knit shirt. He made a lecherous face. “Time has improved you! You used to be a skinny monstrosity with legs that came almost to your neck!”

  “Well, thank you, vile creature! I can remember when your front teeth looked like Peter Rabbit’s and your ears like Dumbo’s, the elephant. I suppose, now that you’ve grown so handsome, you have to carry a stick to keep the girls away.”

  “Let’s just say I don’t miss any opportunities,” he said wickedly.

  It was easy for them to fall back into the light banter. It was as if they had never been apart. The only thing missing was Marty.

  “Marty said she might come back if we open the resort,” Kelly said suddenly, with a fierce longing to have the three of them together again.

  “She mentioned it. I don’t want to give up my job with the utility company just yet. It’ll take a bit of money to put the old place back together again.” Mike got up and reached for his coat. “Wash out the pot, woodenhead, and I’ll fetch some coffee. Tomorrow I’ll run down to Talkeetna so you can stock up. That is if you’re sure you’re going to stay.”

  “I was never so sure of anything in my life. I don’t think I ever want to leave this place again.” She looked away, veiling her expression.

  “Five years,” he said softly. “You may be addicted to city life and don’t know it.”

  “Go get the coffee, mister know-it-all. I’m a big girl, now, and I know my own mind, at last!”

  “I hope so.” He grinned. “It’s taken you long enough.” To emphasize the point, he slammed the door unnecessarily hard when he went out.

  Kelly found the old blackened coffee pot, scrubbed it out, and filled it with water. She lifted a lid on the range and set the pot in the round hole so the flames lapped at its bottom.

  It was good to be home. Although it was dark, she could see in her mind’s eye the peaks of Mount McKinley dominating the skyline. Soon the snows would come . . . that breath of cold air Mike let in when he went out the door told her it could be any day now. The dark, drooping evergreens that shadowed the small settlement of three log cabins and a lodge seemed dreary and mysterious in the summer. But in the winter they appeared graceful and soft, skirted by snow.

  There was a lot of work to be done, more than Kelly could possibly do alone, before the lodge would be ready to receive guests. The scrubbing alone would take ages. Another time-consuming chore would be cutting wood for the mammoth fireplace and for heat for her own cabin. That’s about all she could depend on Mike doing. She had noticed the neat cords of wood beside his own cabin, probably not a winter’s supply, but a good start. Maybe she could hire someone in Talkeetna to help.

  Now that she was thinking about it, there were a million things to do and not much time to do them if they wanted to open when the season started. People liked a place to leave their snowmobiles before the highway got snowbound, because many of them would come up on the train, or by skiplane. They’d need a mountain of supplies, and a cook. A cook! That was one job she wouldn’t do. She could cook up a meal for herself, but she couldn’t on a large scale.

  Ideas for advertising began to flick through her mind. They cou
ld place ads in the Anchorage and Fairbanks papers. There had been a big change in the economy ever since the oil companies had descended on the state. New corporations had sprung up and young executives had moved up from the States to run them. The country’s huge size wouldn’t stop them from taking a weekend in the bush. Skiplanes shuttled constantly back and forth between the resorts and the cities. Later, she mused, they could tap the vast resources of Seattle, Portland, and Vancouver for guests. For now, they would concentrate on getting them from closer to home.

  Ever since the influx of “foreigners,” as Alaskan natives called them, a powerful tide of newfound pride and racial identity had swept the state. Signs saying “Alaska For Alaskans,” “Yankee Go Home,” and “Happiness Is An Oklahoman Going Home With A Texan Under Each Arm,” covered car bumpers. Kelly agreed to a certain extent. This was where she wanted to be, where she wanted to make something good and enduring; here, the only place in the world where she had roots, she didn’t want the land spoiled with hamburger stands and neon lights.

  Mike came in the door.

  “Did you go all the way to Talkeetna to get that coffee?” Kelly teased.

  “Had to see about my dogs.” He handed her the coffee can and took off his coat.

  “Dogs? You’ve got more than one?”

  “I’ve got a sled team. They’re half wild, so be careful.”

  “Are you going to race them at the Fur Rendezvous?”

  “Not in the Anchorage to Nome race, but maybe in one of the shorter ones. I’ve only had them hitched together a few times. They’re wilder than hell.” He grinned.