Pathways (9780307822208)

by Bergren, Lisa T.

  “Why there? You said yourself that there’s a clinic in Talkeetna and a hospital in Willow. I thought Housecalls was all about serving—”

  “Serving people in the bush,” he said, nodding. “With the popularity of Denali on the rise, more and more people are moving to the bush country near the park and visiting bush families that take in overnight boarders. We get some state funding—”

  “I’m sorry,” Bryn mumbled. “I can’t go there. There must be someone else who could.”

  “Are you saying you’re not going to join us if we send you there?”

  Bryn’s mind went back to Boston, to the three hospitals that had expressed interest in her, that she had put on hold in her desire to serve Alaska’s people. “I don’t know.”

  “What happened in Talkeetna that was so bad?” Carmine asked gently. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” Bryn said, shaking her head and sighing. “I don’t want to talk about it. Nothing happened—nothing bad, that is.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Bryn studied his dark eyes and mulled over her dilemma. “Guess there isn’t one,” she sighed. “I suppose I’m just meant to be there every five years.”

  “Every five years?”

  “Never mind. Where will I stay?”

  Dr. Kostas rose to pull a file from his cabinet and then sat back down. “Looks like we’ve secured a great little cabin on the Talkeetna River, right outside of town. Not a half-mile from the airstrip and two, three miles from the anchorage of our floatplane contractor.”

  For the first time, Bryn dared to think of that angle. “And … who will be flying me to see patients in the bush?”

  Dr. Kostas looked through several pages in the file folder. “Here we are. Leon Wilmot and Eli … What was his name? I just met him last fall. I swear I’m losin’ it.” He laughed at his lack of memory and scanned the remaining copy. “Nice guy. Eli—”

  “Eli Pierce.”

  Carmine’s dark eyes met hers with surprise. “You know him?”

  Bryn laughed softly, shaking her head. “Ever hear, Dr. Kostas, that God has a funny sense of humor?”

  “Yes,” Carmine responded with a tentative smile.

  “Well, he does. I’m living proof.”

  Eli spiked a volleyball over the net, grinning at Sara Cussler, who was on the opposite team and nodding at him in admiration. They had kept in touch over the last five years, and she had recently moved back to spend the summer in Talkeetna, ostensibly because she missed the place, but Eli knew it was to see if they could figure out what they might have together long-term. It was looking promising. She was into hiking, had learned to love flying, even helped him at the fledgling outreach center at the church. Today they had drummed up a crowd of river guides from several rafting companies, as well as a huge group of young people for a mean game of volleyball.

  “Come on, Eli,” a kid complained on the opposite side. “Quit sparing your girlfriend. You’re killin’ me.”

  “Can’t send a pretty girl like that a zinger,” he tossed back, wiping his upper lip.

  “Bring it on, Pierce,” Sara taunted. She wasn’t one to sit back and be treated like a girlie-girl. She still had it. The gumption he admired. Not to mention an athlete’s body and a heart for Jesus. Eli was a happy man. Life was looking up.

  When the game was over, they all retreated to the fellowship hall for sodas and snacks. “You’re going to go broke if you keep doing this,” Sara said, gesturing toward the piles of chips and cookies and pop that would be gone within the hour. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a sweaty kiss on the cheek. She wrinkled up her nose in distaste.

  “It’s good for them. Good for me. If I can raise a little more money, we can have ourselves an indoor basketball court. Maybe even yearly sponsors, so someone else can buy the snacks once in a while.”

  “You’re a good man, Eli Pierce,” she said, admiration shining through her blue, blue eyes.

  “You’re a good woman, Sara Cussler,” he responded. “I’m glad you’re here, back in Talkeetna.”

  “Me too.” She moved closer and hugged him tight. “Can you take me to the lodge? I’m on in an hour.” She had taken a job working the front desk at the Talkeetna Lodge.

  “Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll go clean up and change.”

  Eli dropped Sara off for her shift, smiling as he drove away. Lately he had been praying about whether he should propose, move the relationship on to permanent status. She hadn’t been here long, but she had made it clear she was ready. And Eli thought he might be ready too. Almost. Another couple of weeks and he was sure he would get the confirmation he sought through prayer, the blessing he hoped for.

  It was time to settle down, start a family. He was thirty-one, business was good, and he had enough money saved to buy land and build a house. And he wanted a woman in his life who would partner with him on the project and not just choose flooring and paint colors. He wanted a partner to work alongside him, hammering nails, pouring concrete, selecting rock for a firepl

  Wrong image, Pierce. Over the last five years he had convinced himself that any fantasy of a life with Bryn Bailey was exactly that—fantasy. It was better to stick with reliable, sweet, fun, faithful, steady Sara than a fantasy girl from his past. Yes, it was time to settle down. Almost. He just needed … What? What was it he was waiting for?

  He drove his truck down the road to the office, where it sat on the highway along the edge of Fish Lake. It had been busy already this summer. He’d dropped a few hunters and fishermen off in the bush and made flyovers every day, looking for their signs that they were ready to be picked up. Some had cell phones with them for the same purpose. And today he was supposed to meet the doctor from Housecalls that he would ferry to the bush for medical emergencies and routine checkups.

  A doctor. It was Bryn’s summer to be in Alaska. Would she come, as she had every five years? Memories of their last night together still clung to his heart, like mud in a dog’s fur. He sighed. He knew he needed to put that almost-romance to bed before he’d find the confirmation he sought for his relationship with Sara.

  Bryn hadn’t given him any hope in the following years. There hadn’t been a single communication from her. And her intent, even during that visit, had been clear: She wanted nothing from Eli Pierce other than a means of transportation. He was an old family friend, an old flame, nothing more. It was getting his heart to shut away the desire for more that was the trick. Maybe he’d ask his mom and dad when they got back from their summer road trip if they’d heard anything from the Baileys, but that wouldn’t be until August.

  He pulled the new Ford into the gravel driveway. Five vehicles belonging to clients in the bush were parked there and an old car with Anchorage identification. He put the truck in park and climbed out. A woman stood on the bank above the water, staring out at Fish Lake and the Talkeetna Mountains in the distance. One of the first sightseers to arrive for the summer? Probably wanted a ride around McKinley—

  She turned then, at the sound of his truck door slamming shut.

  And Eli felt as if he had been punched in the gut.

  Bryn Bailey.

  Bryn had expected the old leap in her belly when she first saw him but not the accelerated pulse rate, the sudden cold sweat. Was she actually scared to see him again? She forced a smile and walked across the grass to meet him. “Hello, Eli,” she said softly.

  “Hello, Doc.” He pulled her into his arms for a warm, if a bit awkward, embrace. When he dropped his arms and pulled back, a question ran through his eyes. “Need a lift to Summit? I wondered if you’d come this year.”

  “No. I mean, maybe at some point. I’d like to get to Summit for a weekend or two. I’m actually here on official business.”

  His eyes, such a soft hazel, narrowed in confusion. “Official?”

  “Yes. I’m the volunteer doctor for Housecalls this summer. And as fate would have it, I’ve been assigned to Talkeetna.”
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  “Y-you?”

  She nodded, acknowledging his shock. “What are the chances, huh?”

  “You didn’t request it?”

  “No. I was thinking they’d send me up near Barrow or out to the Aleutians.” She reached into her coat pocket for Carmine’s paperwork. “Doc Kostas said there was a guy named Leon who had agreed to fly me around too. Housecalls covers all your expenses. But I’m sure you know that.”

  “Yeah. I met Carmine last summer.” Eli crossed his arms in front of him. “He was up fishing. Decided then to establish an outpost here. There are quite a few people who live in the bush over the summer. People who are used to medical care.”

  Bryn raised her eyebrows, pursed her lips. Why did she get the feeling that he thought she had orchestrated all of this? “Guess I’ll be their doc.”

  “Guess so.” His eyes remained on hers and she stared back, refusing to look away first. He had aged nicely, the high mountain air giving him the ruddy complexion of a cowboy on the range, his customary three-day beard growth more full, more manly now. A fine, light-brown stubble covered his square jaw line and that sweet dimple in his chin. He was a handsome man, no doubt about it.

  “You married yet?” she asked suddenly.

  “Not yet,” he said in a tone that implied he might be soon. “You?”

  “Not yet,” she returned, smiling. “Met lots of people over the last five years, but not the right guy.”

  He nodded, obviously trying to resist smiling too, then sobered. “I’m back with Sara. Things are pretty serious.”

  She nodded again, feeling like a child’s toy with a bobbing head. “Good to know. I don’t want to intrude, Eli. If you’d prefer that I fly with this Leon fellow—”

  “You say that now. You’ve never flown with Leon—it’ll curl your hair.”

  Bryn’s eyes widened in surprise. “He’s safe?”

  “Most of the time,” Eli said, smiling again. “Where are you staying?”

  “On the river. On the edge of town.”

  “That’s convenient. Won’t be the same as Summit though.”

  “Nothing’s like Summit.”

  She thought then of that last night together, when the aurora borealis had shone so brightly, and by the look on Eli’s face, he was remembering too. That night when, as Jonathan Edwards wrote, she felt “wrapt and swallowed up in God.” She looked out over Fish Lake and then back to Eli. “Been there much yourself this year?”

  “A couple of times.”

  “How’s our cabin faring? How’s Ben?”

  “Your cabin is in good shape. Ben? Ben never seems to change. Has a new bear cub already.”

  The mention of bears sent Bryn’s mind back to the grizzly, to Eli saving her, to longing glances by the stove as he recuperated in her cabin.

  Another car roared into the driveway, sending gravel flying. “That’s my client,” Eli said, obviously relieved to be given an excuse to end their conversation.

  “You’d better go. If you want to rethink your commitment to Housecalls, I could call Carmine, tell him you’d changed your mind. There’s probably another operation in town that could—”

  “No. No. I made a promise to Housecalls, through September. I’ll honor that.”

  “Okay,” Bryn said, raising her hands. If there was one thing Eli Pierce certainly was, it was honorable. “Just remember I gave you an out.”

  “Don’t need an out, Doc,” he said softly. But she believed he did. If he wanted to stay with Sara. If he wanted things to remain serious with her. Because it was happening again. That relentless passion between them. She knew it would take everything in them both to avoid it all summer long.

  “She’s here? In Talkeetna?” Sara asked, alarm running through her morning blue eyes.

  “Yeah. Didn’t ask for the assignment. Actually asked for something else. But was sent here.”

  “And you’re going to be her pilot?”

  Eli licked his lips, measuring his tone, his words, desperate to reassure Sara but be honest too. “Yes. Me and Leon.”

  Sara sighed, walked to the front window of her tiny rental home. “And she’s living here, in town. Not Summit?”

  “Yes. When she’s not out on assignment. Bryn said she’d like to get to Summit Lake a couple of times this summer, but she’s here on official business. I’d guess Housecalls will keep her fairly busy, on the road quite a bit.”

  “With you.”

  “Or Leon.”

  Sara shook her head. “I don’t like it, Eli. I mean, I just have to be honest. Last time—”

  “Last time I was still hung up on her.”

  “And now?”

  “Now? I’m hung up on you.” He smiled at her and she leaned into his chest, accepting his embrace. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Eli.”

  “I don’t want to lose you, Sara.”

  She leaned back and stared up into his eyes. “Then watch yourself.” She shook her head once. “I can’t take another breakup. We just got things going again. Everything is right, you know? This is it.”

  Eli nodded. “I know.” He wished he were ready to propose, that he could assure her with a ring on her finger and a wedding date. She was right for him in so many ways. He thought the world of her, cared for her deeply. Maybe even loved her. His parents liked her, and she loved Talkeetna, was ready to settle here.

  Everything was right. In his head, it all lined up. Why wouldn’t his heart tell him so too?

  Bryn arrived at her cabin and opened the back door. It was a small seventies A-frame, built right on a bend in the Talkeetna River. She could hear the river’s rush, even from inside, and decided it would be a pleasant and soothing sound, especially at night, much as the waves on Summit’s shore had been to her over summers past.

  The carpet was an outdated avocado shag, in need of a good washing, and the pumpkin-colored couches, stiff and uncomfortable, had a layer of dog hair on them. Bryn decided that the first thing she would do, after unpacking her bags, would be to give the cabin a thorough cleaning. Make it hers. At least for the summer.

  She climbed up the wooden steps to the loft and was pleasantly surprised to find nice, wide-planked pine flooring, a log bedframe with a firm queen-size mattress, a matching pine chest of drawers, and end tables. The owners, clearly, had invested more in the bedroom than the rest of the house. She threw her duffel on the bed and walked to the huge picture window. On either side of it were smaller windows, which she immediately cranked open to let in the sounds of the water as well as some fresh air.

  In the back of the loft bedroom was the lone bathroom, a simple shower, sink, and toilet arrangement but with newer-looking tile. She returned to the more dismal downstairs. The kitchen was a galley setup, long and narrow. But it would do. After all, she was only cooking for one. And when home, she would spend lots of time either on the deck, overlooking the water, or up in the luxurious bedroom. Not a bad way to spend the summer, she mused. Much better than her friend Annie getting used to her first summer in New York City or Jeff in St. Louis.

  She walked out the patio doors and surveyed her view of the river and the Alaskan Range beyond. Not half bad. To be fair, not really bad at all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Eli had traveled far and wide in the last five years, but nothing was like home. He rolled the de Havilland into a steep bank and surveyed the land like a king taking in his domain. New York had been crazy; Beijing, otherworldly; Rio, hedonistic; and Israel, holy, even amid the constant strife.

  Bryn had once asked him how he knew he was supposed to be in Alaska when he’d never been anywhere else but Chicago, and now he knew. He wasn’t one of the Alaskans that were running away from something; he was home. This was it. This broad, beautiful Susitna Valley, the mountain ranges that showed themselves to him in surprising ways—the High One, often veiled in clouds and then clearing like a looming warrior emerging from the fog, the miles of birch and spruce, the herds of ca
ribou, the grizzly and moose. He took a deep breath. This was home.

  The tourists with him asked about the clear-cutting and expressed the normal Outsider belief that no trees should be harvested at all, never mind their penchant for pine tables and paper and disposable napkins. They asked him to name the mountain peaks as they passed, mountains that Eli had dreamed about when away—Mount Deception, Mount Brooks, Mount Silverthorne, Mount Tatum, Mount Carpe.

  And even cheechakos like them—people who had squealed in delight over a moose sighting that was actually a musk ox from a commercial operation outside Talkeetna—hushed in awe of their beauty. The morning light cast deep shadows on the western slopes while the eastern angles glowed with a soft, peachy hue. The mountains at lower elevations, those that slept at the high peaks’ feet, were a soft maroon.

  The tinny voice of Leon came over the radio, interrupting the blessed silence. “Beaver-four-two-six-Alpha-Bravo, this is Alaska Bush. You out there, Eli?”

  “Alaska Bush, this is Beaver-four-two-six-Alpha-Bravo. Go ahead, Leon.”

  “I’ve got a trio here wantin’ a trip around Denali and a doc from Housecalls wanting a lift to Shubert Lake.”

  Eli pursed his lips, thinking. “Is the Housecalls trip an emergency?”

  Leon apparently turned away from the radio to ask, then said, “Kind of. The family there called in, asking for assistance. Said they had an uncomfortable meeting between an ax and a thigh.”

  Eli frowned. “I’m headin’ home now. I could take the tourists if you’ll take Doc Bailey to Shubert.”