Tessa introduced herself and her assignment in Good Riddance. In turn the couple introduced themselves as Leo and Nancy Perkins. Within minutes Tessa had the skinny. The Perkinses were transplants from Wisconsin where Nancy had retired from teaching school and Leo had retired from insurance sales. Their kids and grandchildren came up each summer for a family visit.
“Do you carry locally made products? That’s al ways what interests me most,” Tessa said.
“Sure thing,” Nancy said. “Over here we’ve got some necklace carvings, some etchings, and a couple of watercolors by our local artist Henry Mansford.”
Almost immediately Tessa’s eye was drawn to the necklace carvings. The animal figures were small yet beautifully detailed, showing a high level of craftsmanship. One in particular caught her eye. It was an eagle. Rather than the typical pose with wings outspread in flight, this eagle sat watching from a tree top. The strength, the proud cast of his head, the patient watchfulness—it instantly reminded her of Clint.
“I love this.”
“Here, try it on,” Nancy said, reaching inside the glass case and bringing it out.
The second it touched her neck, Tessa knew she had to have it. It felt right nestled against her collar bone. Nancy held up a hand mirror for Tessa to take a look.
It was even more striking on, gleaming against her skin. She was thoroughly enchanted. She wasn’t a big shopper, but when she found the right piece she knew it and this piece definitely spoke to her. And it would be like taking a piece of Clint back with her when she returned home. “Yes. This has my name written all over it,” Tessa said with a satisfied smile.
She browsed a bit more and enjoyed chatting with the Perkinses. Another local came in and she met Donna, a tall, striking blonde who ran the engine repair shop across the street from the medical center.
Another few minutes and Tessa was once again on her way. She was walking past a shop with Curl’s written in sloping letters on the front glass. Beneath the name it read, “Serving all of your taxidermy, barbershop, beauty salon and mortuary needs.” As if the sign alone wasn’t enough to stop her in her tracks, Jenna waved at her from inside the shop.
On impulse, Tessa backed up and opened the door. She could use a cut and how many people could actually say they’d had a taxidermist/barber/mortician style their hair?
CLINT STEELED HIMSELF and pushed open the back door. Kobuk was already curled up in the yard. Clint’s grandmother and Aunt Leona, who wasn’t technically his aunt but had always been called that, sat at the kitchen table peeling vegetables for stew.
The pungent smell of raw onions pierced the air. Both the women ignored him until he’d closed the door behind him and hung his coat on a peg mounted near the door. Only then did they turn to acknowledge him. “It is my grandson with the restless feet who chooses to join us, Leona.”
Clint didn’t mention he was her only grandson, restless feet aside. His grandmother, for all her wisdom as head of their clan, wasn’t above a touch of drama now and again, more often than not.
“Grandmother. Aunt Leona. How are you to day?”
Aunt Leona, nearly as old as his grandmother, went into a recounting of her latest medical problems. They were numerous, her most troubling being a recent bout of gout, as diagnosed by Dr. Skye.
Clint listened with half an ear, murmuring platitudes now and then.
“For goodness’ sake, Leona, that’s enough,” his grandmother finally snapped.
“Hmph,” Leona said, getting up from the table.
“Good to see you, Aunt Leona,” Clint said to her retreating back as she made her way into the den.
This particular scenario always played out the same.
Grandmother would snap at her and Leona would retreat to the other room for TV time until they both got over their respective case of mad.
Sure enough, within seconds her shuffling steps ceased only to be replaced with the sound of the television.
“Caribou stew for dinner?” he said.
“Yes, your father killed and dressed one out yesterday. Can you stay for dinner?”
They both knew he couldn’t. They also both knew it was her entrée to discuss Tessa whom she’d surely heard about.
“I can’t tonight but maybe you can save some for me,” Clint said.
“That’s right. You’re busy with that white woman.” Her disapproval apparent, she made it sound as if he was dating Tessa.
He propped against the counter opposite where she sat at the table. “I’m busy doing my job, Grandmother. She hired me to be her guide while she’s here.”
“Just remember your father and his mistake.”
Clint found it unlikely he’d forget since he was the outcome of that “mistake.” “I’m not my father,” he said, almost by rote as he’d reassured both himself and his grandmother the same thing for years now.
She sent him a sharp-eyed look and merely nodded.
“I’m going to bring her to the village tomorrow. She’s interested in the beading and the basketweaving.”
He wasn’t asking permission. It was more of a courtesy heads-up that he’d be bringing a stranger to call.
His grandmother’s lips tightened but that was the only indication she offered that he’d even spoken. He wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected her to be pleased with his decision to bring Tessa out.
“Have you talked to Ellie lately?” she asked.
Not only had he not talked to Ellie, she hadn’t actually crossed his mind since he’d laid eyes on Tessa.
And he was damn smart enough not to say that as it would send his grandmother right over the edge.
“No, I haven’t talked to her in a couple of weeks.”
His grandmother shook her head slowly as if she couldn’t begin to understand Clint. “She is a good match. A hare is just what an eagle needs. The hare tends to things on the ground so that the eagle may soar.”
In his culture, every child was “marked” by an animal upon their birth and that became their totem.
It was said that when an animal visited three days in a row following the birth of a child, it marked that child as a member of their animal clan, imbuing the child with the animal characteristics. Clint had been marked by an eagle. Therefore, it was no surprise he had an affinity for finding his way and had become a guide.
“I’m not looking for a mate,” he said.
“You don’t have to be looking. Often the mate finds you. But you must be smart enough to recognize it.”
Immediately Tessa’s face came to mind. And that was what scared the hell out of him. Much as when a child was marked by his or her totem, when a man or woman was marked by a mate there was no denying or changing it. He pushed abruptly away from the counter. “And you have to be smart enough to recognize when a mate simply won’t work.”
“You’re bringing this white woman here to morrow?”
He nodded. “Tomorrow or the day after.” He plucked his jacket off the peg and shrugged into it.
“You know she doesn’t belong here.”
He turned to face her from the doorway. “Grandmother, I’m bringing her for a visit. I’m well aware she doesn’t belong here.”
As he closed the door behind him, Kobuk stood and trotted over to the truck door. Clint crossed the yard, the truth hitting him like a ton of bricks. The only thing Grandmother knew about Tessa was her skin color, yet already Grandmother didn’t like her. All these years he’d deemed his grandmother’s attitude as one of protectiveness. In actuality, she was as prejudicial as his mother’s parents.
And was he any better?
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, no?” Beneath his orange spray-on tan, Tad turned red. At least Merrilee thought he was turning red. It was hard to tell with that perpetual orange glow he had going.
She closed the log book and put it away in her desk. She stood. She didn’t particularly care for Tad towering over her while she sat. “No means no.”
“You’ve wanted a divorce for twenty-f
ive years and now you’re refusing to sign these papers?” He shook the papers clutched in his hand as if she might’ve been confused as to exactly which ones he meant.
“Uh-huh. That’s right.” She busied herself sorting through a stack of mail Juliette had brought in on an early morning flight.
Over by the chess table, Jeb and Dwight argued as to which winter had been the coldest in the past ten years. Thank goodness they were nearly deaf and couldn’t hear Tad babbling about a divorce.
“But why?”
She didn’t bother to even look at him. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“But for twenty-five years—”
She dropped the last letter onto the appropriate pile and cut him off, finally giving him her undivided attention. “You refused to sign. Why did you refuse to sign for so long?” It was rhetorical. She knew exactly why he hadn’t signed the divorce decree—because it was what she’d wanted.
“Because I could, Merry.” He smiled like the smug bastard he’d always been. “Because I could.”
Well, he’d at least spit out half the truth. The other reason was that while he couldn’t control whether she left him or not, he could control whether she was still married to him.
“There you go, then, Tad. That rolls both ways. I can refuse to sign and I’m exercising that right.”
“You’re jealous. You’re jealous I found someone young and beautiful. You don’t want to know that I’m sporting a wife half your age around town while you’re stuck with some old man here in the back of beyond.”
She’d tolerated his presence, barely, for the past two days but that did it. He’d crossed a line and she wouldn’t have it.
“Let me tell you something, you sorry excuse for a human being. I don’t give a flying fig if you’re delusional enough to think I’m jealous. Think what you want to think, but let’s set the record straight here and now. Bull Swenson pisses more class, more dignity, and more integrity than you have in your entire body. There’s no finer man to be found.”
A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Bull stood in the doorway between the airstrip and Gus’s, his expression unreadable. Tad, in the meantime, stood with his mouth gaping open like a bass on the wrong end of a fishing line.
She’d meant what she said about Bull but she’d had enough of his silent treatment. And Tad…she’d had enough of him long ago.
Disgusted with the lot of them, she turned and marched up the stairs to gather dirty linens. Men! As her Grandmother Danville used to lament, you couldn’t live with them, and you couldn’t shoot them.
11
“WHAT’D YOU DO TO YOUR hair?” Clint said when Tessa finally showed up at the airstrip center. He wasn’t in the best mood after his visit with his grandmother. He hadn’t expected it to go well and it hadn’t, but nonetheless….
“It’s called a haircut,” she said, rolling her eyes as if he’d posed a moronic question.
He smiled sheepishly. “I guess that was sort of dumb. I was just surprised. The last time I saw you it was down to your shoulders, but it looks nice. Not that it didn’t look nice before but it looks good this way, too.”
Okay, it was time to just shut the hell up before he looked any more stupid than he already did. This was not a normal state for him but then again from the moment Tessa Bellingham had climbed out of that plane, pretty much nothing had been normal for him since then.
She touched her hand to her short, spiky hair and smiled. He itched to test it as well. Her hair had felt like a fall of satin against his fingers and hands. What would it feel like now with this shorter style?
“I do like it. It was an impulse. I figured how many people could say they’d had their hair done by a taxidermist/barber/mortician? And if it doesn’t turn out, well, it’s just hair and it’ll grow back. But I think Curl did a good job with it. I’m really pleased.” She grinned and he felt all knotted up inside. “And it was a heck of a lot cheaper than what my salon at home charges.”
Clint laughed. “Not when you figure in the cost of your airline ticket.”
“Well, there is that. Oh, and I got this.” She fingered a necklace. “Isn’t it great?”
Clint immediately recognized the carved totem on the necklace. His totem. And she was wearing it around her neck, in that hollow that seemed as if it had been custom-made for him to tease his tongue against and kiss. “Very nice,” he said.
“I think it’s wonderful. The carving is so detailed and I like the way the eagle is sitting at the top of the tree.”
“I know the carver. Maybe you’d like to meet him while you’re here,” he said. It was impossible not to offer to introduce her to people and show her things when she was so eager and curious to absorb everything.
“I would love to. I’m just blown away by this.”
“When we go to the village to deliver the bark, we’ll stop by then.” He knew it would be better not to ask—he shouldn’t ask—but he couldn’t seem to help himself. “Why the eagle? I would’ve thought you would have picked a wolf, especially since they came and marked the tent the other day.”
“You know, I didn’t even think about it. I just saw this and knew it was meant for me.” She looked slightly embarrassed as she confessed, “It was as if it spoke to me, as if it was meant to be mine.”
An indescribable feeling coursed through him. He nodded.
“Are you okay?” she said. “You look kind of odd.”
“I’m fine.”
“Am I missing something?”
He laughed. He was making way too much out of something that essentially meant nothing. “Nah. It’s just that the eagle is my totem.” He explained to her how a particular animal presented itself at birth.
“It actually reminded me of you when I saw it. That’s so cool. Hey, do you think…no, never mind.”
“What?”
“Well, the wolves came two days in a row, but I guess that’s silly because I’m not a baby.”
“I already thought about that. It seems as if it has to have some significance but I don’t know what it is.”
“Is there anyone in your village you could check with?”
Clint noticed she didn’t question or doubt the custom and lore of his culture. She treated it with respect and as a given.
“I’ll look into it.” Unfortunately the person who would know would be his grandmother.
“Thanks. I’d really appreciate it. I can’t help but think that wolf was marking me, literally.”
A look passed between them, their gazes tangling, and she reached up and stroked her fingers over the carved eagle. Clint swore he could feel her touch reverberate through him.
Clint cleared his throat and checked his watch, breaking the moment. “Dalton should be here at any moment and we’ll be heading out to the glacier. You should have an hour and a half, maybe two hours of sunlight to shoot.”
“Excellent. I can’t wait to see it.”
“There are a couple of things we need to go over. The river is frozen, but you can’t walk out on it the way we walked on the river we were at yesterday. The glacier makes it unstable. At any point it could crack or move and where you were standing could become a crevasse.”
“Seriously?”
“More than seriously. A hiker died last year when that very thing happened.”
“Does it happen often?”
“No, but when you’re the one it happens to, once is enough.”
Dalton sauntered up. “Hey, nice do. I heard you were over at Curl’s,” he said to Tessa.
“Thanks,” she said. “You heard I was there?”
“Honey, news travels like wildfire in Good Riddance, and a new chick in town getting her hair done at Curl’s is news.” He dropped her a wink and Clint instinctively bristled, feeling incredibly territorial, which was ridiculous. Dalton wasn’t coming on to her, that was simply his personality. Plus, Clint knew firsthand just how crazy in love Dalton was with Skye.
Clint needed t
o seriously get himself together. Tessa seemed to constantly throw him for a loop, whether she was fitting right in with the crowd over at Gus’s, learning to set the traces, replenishing firewood, or getting her hair done at Curl’s. Nothing she did was quite what he expected. Well, the blunt truth of the matter was he kept expecting her not to fit in, and she kept adapting to Good Riddance and the wilderness without a hitch.
“Are we ready to roll?” Clint said.
“Let’s do it,” Dalton said with an easy smile.
TESSA STOOD ON THE BANK of the river opposite the massive, towering blue glacial ice and took a moment to simply try to take it all in.
“Does this look like a good spot for you to set up your equipment?” Clint asked. “Dalton wants me to give him a hand with the plane.” The ride out had been a little rocky although Dalton had assured her they were safe. “You’ll be okay on your own?”
“No problem. Can I go down to the edge of the water?” It was a fairly steep drop but she thought it was manageable and the closer she could get the happier she’d be.
He hesitated, frowning. “In the summer, when it’s calving, it’s impossible because the ice chunks send waves crashing over here. And normally I’d say it’s a bad idea even with the river frozen, but if you’re careful and don’t go out on the ice…”
“Awesome!” She was already heading toward the edge.
“Tessa—”
She stopped. He very seldom called her by her name. “Yes?”
“Remember what I told you about the ice. Don’t go out there. It’s rare but it can happen.”
“Sure,” she responded automatically, only half listening, already thinking how she’d set the one camera up on a tripod and get some hand-held shots with the other.
“You heard me, right?”
“I heard you.” She slung the tripod strap over her shoulder and the two camera cases around her neck.
She approached the edge and started down at an angle, moving slowly and carefully. Sliding down wouldn’t be a big deal but it wouldn’t do her equipment any good.
She worked quickly, wanting to maximize the time she could record with the sun out. She set up the tripod and camera and began recording. She pulled out the other camera and walked along the river bank. She zoomed in on the glacier face, which had a fracture running along the front. She stood trans-fixed. Incredible. Unfortunately her zoom wasn’t as powerful as she’d like. If she could just get a little bit closer…
Northern Encounter Page 10
