‘Very. Thanks, Dom. If I do hear from him again, I’ll call the police.’
The threat of legal action worked. Eddie stayed away. No longer beleaguered, the daily strain disappeared and I began to grope my way back to normality.
Chapter Seventeen
Another month passed and June arrived. Summer, sunshine, another eight pounds of weight lost and I felt good. Not on top of the world, but better.
My solitary holiday began.
With the luxury of a window seat I spent the hours of travel gazing out, or dozing. I tried watching a movie, but a convoluted plot on a tiny screen lost its charm. Likewise, my book lay unread on my fold-down table. Even the meals lay untouched.
The thrill of a long-planned holiday had diminished with the absence of company.
I looked down at my shapeless jumper and baggy jeans, feeling a wave of self-loathing. My weight loss had stalled. A little over halfway and my body now held onto unhealthy pounds. My hair needed a trim and my hands displayed chewed nails.
Bianca’s beauty floated into my unsettled thoughts. And Eddie’s nastiness. And her nastiness.
Annoyed to even allow them head space, on the spot I decided I’d have a makeover, too, on return home. A buzz of anticipation gave me something to look forward to.
The drinks cart interrupted mixed thoughts. I banished them with each sip of coffee, but errant thoughts drifted back to my house. What did I want to do? Sure, sell the house, but then what? Nothing came to mind.
At this rate this holiday would end up a waste of time. I ordered my mind to focus on anything but the last few months. I needed an incentive. Maybe train in another field of nursing?
Yes!
I sat back in my seat. Of course. Something different. Something else to look forward to. There were a couple of new skills that attracted me.
From Seattle it was a short flight to Anchorage. We flew over British Columbia and into Alaska. Awed by endless beauty of snow-covered mountains, myriad lakes and pine forests unfolding below the plane I snapped photo after photo, only as we landed and queued to deplane did I realize I’d forgotten the problems back in England.
A cold breeze blew off snow-capped mountains in the distance despite mid-June summer weather. Shivering in the morning chill, I pulled on a warm jacket. Everywhere I looked the views were breathtaking and I smiled for the first time in weeks.
The hotel shuttle bus stood waiting and, along with five other passengers, we assisted the driver stow our luggage before boarding. Our route took us past a local airport where a dizzying number of small single and twin prop planes sat on the tarmac, through the town and down over the railway line, pulling up at The Comfort Inn.
Waiting in line for reception to process other guests, my gaze wandered over the mounted moose heads, musk oxen heads and even a wolf head attached to the lobby walls. A huge stuffed bear stood in a glass cubicle off to one side. Alaska was utterly unlike anything at home. Hunting here was a way of life.
My third-floor room had great views of the river running behind the hotel. I stood at the window for a while, watching fishermen walking down to the river to try their luck with early season salmon fishing, or calling it a day and walking away with little to show, their thigh high khaki-colored wellies squelching away.
After settling in, I walked into town to find a snack. The markets, only a five-minute stroll from the hotel, sold the best strawberries I’d ever tasted.
So far north, sunlight lingered until to midnight, but I slept like the dead and was up and ready in the early morning for the three-day trip I’d booked to Denali National Park.
The bus trip through stunning mountain and lakes scenery kept my gaze glued to the coach window. By the time we arrived at our log cabins near the national park I’d barely exchanged more than a word or two with people I’d be sharing another coach with the next day.
Evening arrived. I could either choose a lonely evening with a stale sandwich, or I could make an effort and join everyone at the restaurant for a decent meal.
I made the effort, donned fresh jeans, checked blue shirt and slung a blue jumper around my shoulders. Clean, fresh air, made me feel alive. I took deep, cleansing breaths of it as I walked over to the restaurant for food and company.
The crowd around the bar were a gregarious lot, quickly assimilating me into convivial chitchat. For the first time in two months I felt vague stirrings of interest in something other than failure and survival.
Tomorrow’s day trip companions comprised older couples, one family with a noisy teenage daughter, two honeymooning couples, a father and son and several others I did no more than nod to. I counted the evening a success and went to bed the happiest I’d been in months.
Early next morning I leapt out of bed and showered. Forewarned of fickle weather I dressed in several layers of clothes, prepared for all eventualities.
An old school bus waited on the drive near the front office. I eyed it, eyebrows raised. If that was our transport today it certainly wasn’t luxurious, just a plain old American school bus which had, I found, peeking inside the open door, no creature comforts. A map I’d printed back home assured me there were bathroom rest stops in several places. Good to know.
I headed into the restaurant for breakfast.
Early morning sun hadn’t warmed the day when our day group collected outside a short while later, each of us huddled in warm jumpers and coats, sipping hot drinks, hands wrapped around hot cups, waiting for our bus driver to appear.
Heavy footsteps crunched across gravel behind me.
‘Here he is,’ a passenger said.
I turned and did a rapid double-take, a gasp escaping me. The tall, athletic hunk heading towards us turned out to be Cal.
Cal who’d taught Eddie and me to surf last year. What were the odds?
‘Yum, yum,’ murmured the woman standing next to me.
I flashed her a quick smile, turning back to take him in.
He was as beautiful today as he had been a year ago. The only difference was a slightly longer ponytail and a lighter tan. Oh, and fully clothed. My heart sped up a little and I chuckled to myself. Hello, Rose Gardener, you’re not completely dead inside after all.
Would he remember me, especially now? I glanced down at my changed appearance. No longer the slim, fit and happy newlywed. I wouldn’t recognize me either. Should I have worn makeup? Don’t be silly, I told myself, that wouldn’t do anything for me.
Cal strode over to the group holding a clipboard. ‘Right. Everybody gather round. Good morning and welcome to Denali day tours. Let me introduce myself. My name’s Cal, and I’ll be your guide for the rest of today. We’ll set off in about ten minutes. We have a couple of stops to pick up more passengers, then after that we’ll head straight into Denali National Park and Preserve.
‘Firstly, a reminder. The park is there for the wildlife, not the tourists, so we’ll stay on the road at all times and leave the wildlife to roam the 6.2 million acres free of human interference. There’s one road in and the same road out, most of it a dirt road. It’s ninety-two miles in and ninety-two miles back out. That doesn't sound like a lot, but believe me, the round trip will take us all day. I expect to be back here by eight. If we’re lucky, we’ll see some of the park’s famed wildlife – bears, moose and caribou. It’s unlikely we’ll see wolves, but keep an eye out as we enter the park, there’s a pack living near the entrance, and they were spotted last week for the first time this year.’
Murmurs of anticipation rippled through the group, people exchanging hopeful looks.
‘At this point, we have a beautiful, cloudless blue sky. Don’t expect it to last all day. If there’s one thing about Alaskan weather, it’s unpredictable. If the weather holds like this, we may be lucky enough to see Alaska’s highest mountain, Denali Mountain, but we’ll see. She’s been hiding her face for the last two weeks, but if we do see her, she’ll be covered in snow and cloud cover may hide her peaks. I’ll do a checklist in a minute, but firs
t, if anyone needs last minute errands, now’s the time. Bathroom stops, forgotten cameras, fully enclosed walking boots, no sandals and preferably raincoats are among the few things many people forget, so check your bags. And you, miss.’ He pointed to the noisy teenage girl, who wore only a sundress and high-heeled sandals. ‘You need to change your shoes and bring a warm jacket. Sunshine now, may turn into soaking rain later and the temperature will drop rapidly.’ When she didn’t move, he fixed her with an implacable gaze. ‘We don’t leave here until you’re ready. Scoot.’ He shooed her with a wave of a hand.
Blushing, the girl cast adoring eyes at Cal followed by a furious scowl at her parents, who had “we-told-you-so” look on their faces, then legged it to her cabin.
Cal started his clipboard checklist. ‘Call out when you hear your name, so I know you’re here. There should be eleven passengers from this spot.’ He read through the list, scrutinizing each passenger when they responded.
He paused. ‘Rose Gardener?’ His eyes flickered as he read out my name.
‘Here,’ I waved, half hidden behind an American couple wearing identical velour tracksuits, his in baby blue, hers in baby pink.
He recognized me. My breath caught as his face crinkled into a smile. ‘Hi Rose, nice to see you again.’ He glanced at his list and looked up again, eyes narrowed. Eddie’s name wasn’t there. Heart beating faster, I hoped he’d say nothing. He didn’t. Wise man.
‘Alright, now Sara’s back, we’re all here.’ He nodded approval at the teenager, now dressed in jeans and boots, though still sporting a low-cut top. She carried her jacket defiantly, glaring again at her parents, who ignored her and climbed on the bus.
I chose a window seat a few rows back from the front seats, deliberately unobtrusive. After picking up more passengers, we headed into the Park.
Cal delivered a commentary on the bus, entertaining passengers with Alaska’s history, the founding of Denali National Park, the first successful climb to the summit of Alaska’s highest mountain and the facts about the park’s animals. Scenery was breathtaking and everyone clicked away photographing mountains, valleys, precipitous roads. To our delight, Denali Mountain, peeped out from cloud cover, robed in snow and bathed in sunshine for several hours during the day.
Cal drove with painstaking caution on hairpin bends, perched halfway up mountains, precipitous drop on one side and no guard rails for safety. Today the road was dry. On a rainy day this must be hellish. Cal explained training required drivers to look well ahead for wider places to pass on what was essentially a single track most of the way.
We were by no means the only permitted bus in the park, and I couldn’t even picture a safe place to reverse any of these lumbering vehicles
Mid-morning saw a bathroom and morning tea stop.
From the bus’s back hatch Cal pulled out ice boxes with plates of chocolate muffins, banana cake and, joy, oh joy, flasks for hot drinks. Coffee and hot chocolate came in sachets, and I fell on a mug of hot chocolate, enjoying each scalding sip. Cal was far too busy to talk to me. I drifted away, walking down to the river. He was busy answering questions, while cleaning the windows on both sides of the bus from dirt and dust acquired on the dirt track.
At the river’s edge I breathed in the smell of clean, fresh, wide-open country air. I’d never been anywhere as pure and unsullied as this remote spot. I lifted my face to the sun’s warmth. Icy wind ensured my jacket remained buttoned.
I shifted, to see if we were packing up, ready to go. Sara, the teenager, was flirting with him, thrusting out perky breasts in her skimpy top. I strolled back, a wry smile on my lips. Her carry-ons were funny and awkward. His eyes caught mine with a faint flicker of amusement. He bent to pick up a cool box, turning his back on the girl. She flounced off with a flick of her long, blonde hair.
She’d try again. I felt a smidgeon of pity. I remembered only too well my own embarrassing attempts to flirt with my school PE teacher.
He walked down to meet me, holding out a chocolate muffin. ‘Care to share, little caterpillar? Last one until this afternoon.’
‘Half each? I couldn’t eat all of that.’ I didn’t fancy the muffin, but I didn’t want to spurn his friendly offer. His smile dazzled. Why was this beautiful man bothering with my company?
He nodded and pulled it from its wrapper, handing me half.
‘Little caterpillar?’ I gave him a pained look.
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Better than slug, though.’
‘You remembered. I’m impressed.’ My lips twitched. ‘It’s only marginally better, though. I mean, how about butterfly, or ladybird? Something cute or pretty.’ A smile sneaked through my melancholy.
‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘I made you smile. Of course, I remember you, the happy newlywed. What happened? He’s not here, and you’re obviously not happy.’
‘Nosy sod, aren’t you?’ My mouth turned down again.
‘Hey, I know, but I’m a good listener and you can tell me to bugger off. I won’t be offended.’
I found myself warming to him, as I had in Hawaii.
‘I won’t tell you to get lost, but this is not the time or place to air my doom and gloom.’ I nodded in the direction of the milling tour group.
‘Agreed. I had something better in mind, though,’ he said, as we walked back to the bus. ‘How about a drink after dinner tonight?’
‘Okay,’ I agreed. ‘That sounds really nice. I should warn you, though, I’m pretty darn nosy, too. I share my disaster; you need to reciprocate? I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.’
Lips twitching, he pretended to look scandalized. ‘You know, that sounds downright rude, I’m just offering a drink is all, nothing saucy.’ He shoved hands in his jean pockets, eyebrows raised comically.
A corner of my mouth turned up. ‘Don’t think you can evade my question. You didn’t agree to share. Deal or no deal?’
He struggled with that for a moment. I could almost hear the wheels turning as he weighed up closing the deal.
‘Okay. Deal.’ He stuck out his hand, and we shook on it. ‘You might regret it.’.
‘Oh yeah? Well, you might find me pathetic, so I hope we won’t bore the pants off each other.’
‘Again with the saucy reference!’ He paused, eyes wide in mock horror.
This time I giggled, thumping his arm, ‘Stop misinterpreting me.’
He slid me a sideways grin before turning to our group.
‘All aboard ladies and gentlemen, next stop - a few hairpin bends, awesome views and more wildlife.’
The rest of the day passed in pure bliss. Views galore, a bear with three cubs, moose, caribou, marmots, Dall sheep, cute little pikas and eagles. Lunch was a mouth-watering buffet at Denali Backcountry Lodge, end of the grueling road into the park, during which time it rained. There was even a brief snow shower. On our way back out of the park the sun scorched the air, we flung off jackets, jumpers and, at the next bathroom stop we scurried inside, eager to remove even warm singlets.
I was on a high – my first happy day since before Eddie joined the gym. How crazy was that? Cal made it his mission to crack jokes, filling the bus with laughter.
Dinner that night was a noisy affair. We mingled with tomorrow’s day tour group and I found myself in the midst of a loud party exchanging anecdotes, drinking beer and having fun.
Cal was the center of the group, a laughing, happy Cal, who seemed less guarded than when we’d first met. Determined to be noticed, Sara kept as close to him as she could. He gave her zero encouragement. Her parents’ weary yawns suggested they were ready for bed, but Sara didn’t care, even urging them to go. No way would they leave an underage girl loose in a bar with a rowdy bunch of strangers.
By ten-o-clock the restaurant was closed and the bar was clearing. Most people drifted off to their cabins. Cal glanced at me, eyebrows raised. I nodded, indicating I needed a visit to the bathroom first. As I washed my hands I took a long look at my face in the mirror.
&nbs
p; Misery had stared back at me for months. Not tonight. My eyes sparkled and my cheeks were rosy. Today had been nothing to do with my unhappy life back home. And Cal had been an awesome surprise.
He was waiting when I walked back into the restaurant.
‘This way.’ He steered me into the cool evening air, heading to a huge SUV. A few miles down the road he pulled onto a dirt road and parked on a wide green patch close to a fast-flowing river.
We were surrounded by spectacular scenery.
‘This is beautiful. Do you suppose we’ll see any wildlife?’
‘Maybe. This is a popular drinking and crossing spot for a variety of the bigger animals. If we spot a bear, we’ll close the windows. They’re attracted by the smell of coffee and tea and…,’ he dipped into a picnic bag and pulled out a bar of chocolate, ‘…this.’ His eyes teased me. ‘I’m a chocoholic. If you don’t want any, I’m quite happy not to share.’
Mock serious, I said, ‘You know, I could be selfless and offer to let you hog the chocolate. But I’m not that nice, cos I’m a fellow chocoholic. It’s my favorite food group.’
Eyes twinkling, he broke off a large chunk and handed it to me.
We savored our luxury food in companionable silence. Cal poured coffee from a flask.
‘Right.’ He handed me a mug. ‘Tell me what happened to you and Eddie. You both seemed happy honeymooners last year.’
‘God, I’m amazed you remembered us. You must meet so many people on your travels, which, by the way, I’d like to hear about.’
He nodded, waiting.
‘What happened?’ I shrugged. ‘Well, we seemed to be fine before getting married. After the wedding everything changed. It was demoralizing enough when he joined the gym and was never home. And, I do mean never. But that wasn’t all of it. Not by a long shot.’ I struggled to keep my voice level. ‘Try adultery, a secret stash of money spent on another woman, and a foul-tempered bastard for a husband. I should have tossed him out months before he presented me with a woman who hated me, not just that, she was pregnant and gave him an ultimatum.’
Promises Made- Promises Kept Page 23
