Martha, trying to dismiss Davey's behavior and take heart from Hallie's, studied Nick's cabin with interest. He'd told her about it and how his father had built it of logs he had cut himself from the surrounding forest. Nick had knocked out the original small windows and replaced them with larger ones with a spectacular view of Mooseleg Bay. He'd also extended the cabin by adding two bedrooms and a bathroom for himself and Davey after the boy came to live with him.
Hallie's room and bath were at the other end of the house, along with a small guest room for visitors. A stone chimney surmounted the shingled roof, and a huge stack of firewood cut in three sizes leaned against one of the side walls.
Inside, Martha found Nick's cabin both homey and comfortable. Because Nick was quietly trying without success to convince Davey to lift his head, Hallie took it upon herself to show Martha around.
A big living area centered around a cavernous stone fireplace. Behind that was a kitchen, where all meals were eaten. Martha was quick to notice the feminine touches of fresh flowers, an embroidered Bless This House sign over the mantel and needlepoint throw pillows on the couch. Another framed cross-stitch motto said, Old Sailors Never Die, They Just Get a Little Dinghy, which made Martha smile.
Hallie saw her admiring these touches. "I made the sign and the pillows," she said with a hint of pride. "When Mr. Novak was alive and all the boys were home, this place needed a woman's touch. It was my job to make a home for them, so I did. Mr. Novak and the boys couldn't have cared less how the place looked. All they wanted was meals on time."
"You've done a good job," she said. Hallie seemed nervous and eager that Martha like what she saw.
"These are some photos that Nick and his friend Hank took," Hallie said, gesturing toward several framed pictures of Alaskan wildlife that hung on the wall closest to the kitchen. There was also a picture of a dramatic orange sun setting behind a stand of trees, a few solemn-eyed pictures of Davey in various stages of growth from infant to toddler, and a female nude silhouetted against an unusual rock formation. Martha turned her eyes resolutely away from the nude. It only reminded her that there had been other loves in Nick's life before her, and that there would be others after her, too.
"Hallie, I'm going to take Martha out and show her around," Nick said. He still cradled Davey in his arms, and now he spoke softly to the boy. "Davey, would you like to go with us? I'm going to show Martha the paths and the strawberry patch and Hallie's garden."
Davey dug his head farther down in Nick's collar.
"Now, now," Nick said gently. He set Davey on the floor and pried Davey's fingers from around his neck. Davey immediately ran into one of the bedrooms and slammed the door so hard that the pictures clattered against the walls.
"I'll see that he's all right," Hallie said. "You two go ahead."
With an inquiring look at Nick, Martha followed him outside.
A dirt path led around the woodpile and behind the house. To the left was Hallie's big garden planted with onions and carrots. The garden's prize feature was row after row of huge purple heads of cabbage. Beyond the garden was the forest, a dense and aromatic stand of birch, spruce, and alder.
"Don't worry, Martha," Nick said when they were out of hearing distance of the cabin. "Davey hasn't taken an instant dislike to you. He's always like that with strangers." Nick enclosed Martha's hand in his and twined his fingers through hers as though everything were fine.
If everything was fine, Martha wondered tenaciously as they headed toward the woods, why didn't she have the gumption to jump right into this situation up to her ear-lobes and say, "Where did you get Davey, Nick?"
Usually Martha's well-honed problem-solving instincts enabled her to ferret out answers on her own, but she was stumped by Nick's silence on the matter of Davey, by Faye's disclosures about the boy's origins, and by Davey himself. Also, was the communication all that great between Nick and herself if she couldn't bring herself to ask him an honest question and expect an honest answer?
Vacillation wasn't Martha's style. She usually jumped right into things. For better or worse, she was a creature of impulse.
"Nick," she began, thinking to broach the subject of Davey and her uncertainty about his role in Nick's life, but at that precise moment Nick whispered, "Look! There's that mountain chickadee I've been trying to get a picture of! I'll be right back!" He took off at a run for the cabin and returned almost immediately with a camera. Nick managed to capture a few shots before the chickadee spread its wings and flew away.
"I've been trying to get a photo of that chickadee since I first saw it. I think it's building a nest nearby, and I want Davey to see it."
"Does Davey respond to the things you show him?" Martha said, retreating once more from asking the specifics of Davey's origins. I'm a coward, she told herself.
"Davey's eyes brighten in response to things he likes, and he can become avidly interested in some things. He just doesn't talk about it."
"I spoke to my mother on the phone again yesterday," Martha said slowly. "She found the material she kept about her former student who had the same problem as Davey. She told me a little bit about it."
They were walking on a descending path through the woods now. "Did she shed any light on what might be going on with Davey?" Nick asked.
"She said that the child she was teaching finally went to a psychologist, who figured out that he had been terribly frightened when the family's house burned down when he was a baby. It was so traumatic that the boy's verbal development was arrested at that point and he never learned to talk."
Nick was silent for a long time as they walked. His grip on her elbow grew tighter, and Martha felt an indefinable tension in the air almost like the times when Nick became abrupt or aloof and withdrawn.
"And what happened to the boy?" he asked after a while.
"He made a full recovery. He needed counseling and love, Mother says."
"I've told you I'm going to take Davey to a pediatric speech-and-hearing specialist in Juneau," he said.
"Yes."
"We're going next week. We'll catch a commercial flight out of Ketchikan and spend a couple of days in Juneau."
"Oh," Martha said, wondering how even the anticipation of her separation from Nick could cause her heartache. She felt a little knife-sharp pain in her chest when she thought of Nick going away without her. She chided herself for being silly. She'd always known that there wasn't a future in their love. After all, wasn't she going to leave Alaska at the end of the summer?
While she was trying to take this reality in stride, she heard the sound of rushing water. The forest path descended into a damp green glade. Ferns sprang up under their footsteps, and Martha smelled moss and wet rocks.
"Our waterfall," Nick said, standing aside so that she could see it. It wasn't a spectacular waterfall, but it was high, and water gushed over the rock to a wide pool that tumbled into the underbrush.
"You didn't tell me you had a waterfall," she said accusingly. He hadn't told her some other things, either, but as much as they were on her mind, she knew this wasn't the time to bring them up.
"Why don't you stand over there on that rock and I'll snap your picture in front of it?"
"Oh, Nick," she protested.
"Your mother went to some trouble getting that information she's sending me about her former student, so the least I can do for her is send her a picture of her daughter deep in the wilds of Alaska, right?"
Laughing, Martha climbed up on the rock. Her mother would never believe that her fashion-conscious daughter could be so happy wearing jeans and a cotton turtleneck with a red plaid flannel shirt knotted around her waist. Maybe a photo was a good idea. She'd get her mother to show it around to all her friends in Greenleaf, Indiana, who would wonder what in the world Martha had gotten herself into now.
She'd completely given up trying to govern her unruly hair in this damp climate; nowadays she let it do what it wanted. Nick professed to like her new unstyled look When he finished
taking her picture, he sauntered over to the rock, ran his fingers through her hair until it stood up in curls all over her head, and stepped back to take another picture.
"Nick!"
"Sorry, but this is the way I like you. Natural. Not made up."
Martha waited self-consciously for him to snap another photo, then jumped down from the rock.
"It was a compliment," he assured her.
"I know. I'm even getting used to the more casual way of life here. Yesterday I forgot to put on mascara before I went to work. And then I was glad because I didn't have to worry about it running in the rain. Once upon a time I would have hurried home and put some on. I wouldn't go out of the house if my eyes weren't completely made up."
"The question is," Nick said as they strolled back up the path, "is this woman in jeans and no lipstick the real Martha, or is the former boutique-styled and mascara-ed Martha the real Martha?"
"Good question," she agreed.
"It's a serious question. It follows along with what we discussed before," Nick said.
"You mean about people putting on a show for each other when they first start to date?"
"Exactly."
Martha sighed. "I feel very natural like this. Very me. I really enjoy not gunking my hair up with hairspray. I like it getting wet. I don't mind that it gets too curly when it rains. I don't know, Nick, maybe this is the real me. Maybe the real Martha Rose got buried under the makeup a few years ago and just now burrowed out."
"Got washed out." Nick grinned. "By a Ketchikan rain."
She laughed, and her laughter echoed back from the treetops.
They headed back toward the cabin. They stopped to admire the huge cabbages in Hallie's vegetable garden, and Martha sampled the sweet strawberries from the strawberry patch. She prolonged the time alone with Nick as long as she could. She wanted to go on savoring his slow smiles and his awareness of her, which she was sure would evaporate as soon as he was around Davey again.
When she went back inside, she'd have to jump right in and resume the task of trying to win Davey over. She already liked Davey. It was well within the limits of her generous nature to like children—almost all children, except for the ones who kicked and bit and whom nobody could love except their mothers. Her experience with children had been extensive for a nonmother, what with several nieces and nephews and leading park nature walks when she was a teenager and having Tiffany as an honorary niece.
But Davey was an entirely different kind of child from the ones Martha had known.
She reminded herself to be patient. But being patient was difficult for a creature of impulse.
Chapter 7
The next week, Nick and Davey went to Juneau for their appointment with the pediatric speech-and-hearing specialist.
Martha hated being the object of Randy's sympathy, but there was no throwing him off the track. Just because she kept dropping things and because her mind kept wandering off, as he said, "like a lovesick moose," Randy kept offering to perform tasks at the Bagel Barn that Martha usually did.
"Why don't you have a sablefish special and take a break?" Randy suggested solicitously when Martha made the wrong change for the fifth time that morning.
"That won't fix what's wrong with me," she retorted with uncharacteristic crossness, but she accepted the bagel Randy handed her and set off walking along the dock, staring up into the rare blue sky from whence Nick and Davey's commercial flight would descend on its arrival from Juneau later that day.
She nibbled at the bagel, and she had to admit it tasted pretty good. She hadn't been able to eat much since Nick had left. Casting a guilty glance back at Randy, she shoved the bagel into the nearest trash can. She simply couldn't eat when she was so concerned about Nick.
"It's only for five days," he'd reassured her before he left. He kissed her tenderly the night before his departure and promised to call and text, which was something he couldn't even do when he was at his cabin or Mooseleg Bay. Still, for Martha the five days had dragged. She hated being away from Nick, and she worried about Davey.
"The pediatrician here in Juneau says that there's nothing wrong with Davey's hearing or speech," Nick had reported enthusiastically the first night he called.
The pediatrician had suggested that Davey see Dr. Whitmer, who was a noted child psychiatrist. It took Nick a day of wheedling in order to get the psychiatrist's receptionist to schedule an appointment before he and Davey had to leave Juneau, and that was where they were today. Martha was on pins and needles because she suspected that Davey's problem was a psychological one, especially after she read the file of materials her mother had emailed.
Nick and Davey had already left for Juneau by the time the information arrived, and Martha had called her mother immediately to discuss it.
"As I recall," Martha's mother said, "the little boy in my class was highly intelligent. They'd tried everything to get him to talk, but nothing worked. He seemed like a very sad little boy, and it took us a while to get to the bottom of it. Who would think that a house fire when the boy was a baby was responsible for his not saying a word until he got professional help!"
"Your description of your student sounds a lot like Davey," Martha said. "Davey's a sad little boy, too."
"Your friend Nick—doesn't he have any idea what's wrong with Davey?"
"Unfortunately, no," said Martha. "That's why he's taken Davey to Juneau for an expert opinion."
"Has Davey been subjected to any traumatic experiences? Any serious family problems or anything like that?"
"I'm not sure," Martha said. No one would know that except Nick, and if Nick knew, he wasn't telling.
"I know it's not a laughing matter, Martha, but your sister Roxie brought both kids over to the house today, and we couldn't help wishing for some peace and quiet! How those children can carry on!" And then Georgine Rose proceeded to brag about her darling grandchildren, which only made Martha despair more. Hearing about other children's noisy exploits only made her more aware of Davey's problem.
She had made absolutely no headway in getting to know Davey. Nick had brought him over to her house one day, and although Davey had finally eaten the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Martha offered, and although he had settled down agreeably in front of her TV to watch a video, he'd barely acknowledged that Martha was there. He had seemed well aware of his surroundings, brightening considerably when Martha and Nick took him to the park. But Martha felt no closer to Davey than she had when she first met him, and she knew this was starting to upset Nick.
"You've been so nice to Davey," Nick said, cuddling her close on the night before he left. "Davey couldn't ask for any more consideration."
Indeed. On that particular day, Martha had set aside what she was doing and put off filling out orders for supplies from Sidney because Davey and Nick were there. She'd even made a quick trip to the grocery store in the rain so she'd have peanut butter for Davey because he liked it. She'd given one hundred percent and had received no response from Davey. Not that she expected anything, knowing how Davey was. But it would have been nice to have some encouragement.
Sometimes she wanted to hold him in her arms, and a couple of times she had. At those times Davey had only sagged against her unresponsively, as though he hadn't even known she was there. Finally Martha reached a new understanding of Nick's frustration. She'd felt the same hopelessness over Davey herself.
Right now it felt good to be away from the Bagel Barn, even for a few minutes. The breeze off the Narrows freshened, bringing with it the scent of brine. Formerly a landlocked midwesterner, Martha had developed a firm affection for the sea; she loved its fragrance, its wildlife, its scenery, and its mercurial nature. The sea was impulsive, as she was. She couldn't imagine living inland again. Fortunately, she wouldn't have to. San Francisco would soon be her permanent home.
This thought reminded her that she hadn't yet emailed the weekly supply order to Sidney. She wondered if Sidney would notice that she was ordering the same n
umber of bagels this week but less lox.
Martha was ordering less lox because the Alaskan salmon, which she now bought in quantity from Nick's store, was so popular. It wasn't unusual, even with her well-fed cruise passengers, for customers to try one bagel heaped high with alder-smoked Alaska salmon and then return for another. Sales were brisk, in part because Martha had taken the responsibility for serving bagels with Alaska salmon but also because Randy was such a good salesman.
She never regretted hiring Randy. He had a likable, outgoing personality, and he was always urging customers to try this or that for the first time. He was so jolly and pleasant that the customers usually tried what he recommended. Sometimes they'd return with a friend or a fellow passenger and say, "He wants one of those bagels with the Alaskan salmon, too."
It was Randy who had started offering a daily special priced twenty percent off the regular price. Randy had discovered that cruise passengers, after paying top dollar to sail on a luxury liner such as the Trondheim, loved the idea of finding a bargain in Alaska, which was generally considered an expensive place to visit. Most Alaskan prices reflected the expense of shipping all supplies in by sea or air. Today's sablefish special had been Randy's idea, and as with all their specials he had lettered a neat but noticeable sign and tacked it on the side of the Bagel Barn so that tourists coming up the ramp of the dock would know right away that the Bagel Barn offered a bargain.
At the moment, Randy was toasting and serving bagels as well as brewing tea, pouring soft drinks and handling money. A line formed to the right of the Bagel Barn. Martha had better stop shirking her duties and give poor Randy the help he needed.
She glanced at her watch. It was three o'clock. Only two more hours before Nick and Davey returned from Juneau.
Her spirits lifting, Martha hurried back to the Bagel Barn, where she put on the silly red-and-white apron and attacked her work with renewed vigor. Two hours wasn't long to wait; two hours was nothing compared to the five days that Nick had already been away.
Kisses in the Rain Page 9
