Emergency in Alaska

by Dianne Drake

  “Well, Dr. Sokolov, under different circumstances I’d say it was nice meeting you, but the only thing I really want to say is find me the gasoline you promised so I can get the hell out of here.” He glanced up at the sky, frowning. “The sooner, the better.”

  Following his lead, Alek glanced up at the sky. She frowned, too, but not because of the sky. It was what the sky implied—that she was about to be snowed in with him. Traveling during the storm was too risky. White-out conditions added to winds so strong they could set her Jeep to spinning in circles again, plus the fact that she hated being out during a storm, were all the precipitating factors she needed for the decision to stay the night and see what morning would bring, other than snow. Snow, and Michael Morse, unfortunately. “You’re not going anywhere,” she said, as the first flakes started to flutter. “Too late. We’re here for the night. And if we’re lucky, it’ll be only one night.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “MY GRANDSON has gone to Anchorage to work,” Dinook Duvak said, as she opened the door to the tiny wooden house that sat next door to hers. It was cozy and clean, one tiny, square room with all the bare essentials. A propane stove along with a small, handcrafted table and two chairs tucked into one corner designated the kitchen. An empty desk where Dinook’s grandson had apparently kept computer equipment sat in another corner. A curtained-off dressing room and makeshift bathroom occupied the third corner. Finally, in the fourth, was the bed—thankfully a single.

  Standing in the center of the room was a large, wood-burning stove, with its black stovepipe jutting straight up through the ceiling. It was typical of the old Yup’ik style, where everything in the home centered around the heat source, and the living spaces were kept small to better maintain the heat. Structures weren’t built that way so much now, especially in the cities, where regular furnaces and boilers were used to generate heat, but it wasn’t uncommon to find the villagers in remote areas such as Beaver Dam still adhering to tradition. It was simply a more efficient way for them.

  And this efficient cabin was so cramped, Alek realized that being up close and personal with Michael was going to be the order of her evening and night with him. Immediately, she felt the walls closing in around her—not from claustrophobia, but from the thought of being confined with him in that diminutive space. Too close a proximity…She could almost feel the dearth of oxygen in the snug quarters starting to choke her.

  “Are you feeling poorly, too, Doctor?” Dinook asked, as she scurried to stack clean sheets on the end of the bed. “Should I have the other doctor come in to take a look at you?”

  “I’m a little tired. Dimitri sent me up here before I had a chance to rest, but I’m fine, thank you. And I don’t need the other doctor.” Fine about everything except being here with Michael. “And how about you?”

  “Better. I didn’t eat much of the stew this year.” She wrinkled her nose. “Between you and me, I never did have much of a taste for beaver. I eat it to be polite, but I don’t go after it the way some of the others do.”

  Alek laughed. “Which is a good thing for you this year. So, can I give you something for the nausea?”

  Dinook shook her head. “That nice doctor already did before I came in. He has such a pleasant smile, don’t you know. And kind eyes. Is he working with you now?”

  “No, he’s not working with me,” Alek said. In her mind he wasn’t, although Dimitri might have something different to say about it. “I found him down at the four-way, just standing in the middle of the road. He was lost and he followed me here.”

  “Funny how those things happen, isn’t it? I found my Kobalook standing off the side of the road like that, too. Only I was the one lost, not him. Trying to find my way from Piruiak to Nome, and along he comes in his truck.” She chuckled. “I never did make it to Nome that day. I really wanted to go to the mercantile for some fabric, but I went and got married instead.”

  “The day you met him?”

  She nodded. “He needed a wife, he was handsome, and he told me he had a nice trap line set out so I knew he was a good provider.”

  And that’s all there had been to it. No fuss, no muss, they were married and still happy all these years later. All because she’d been standing on the right road in the right place at the right time.

  Alek thought about Michael standing in the middle of the four-way, then shook her head. Wrong road, wrong place, wrong time and definitely the wrong man. Easier that way, no matter who it was, actually. “That worked out brilliantly for you, but the only thing I intend on doing with Dr. Morse is—”

  “Go on,” Michael said, stepping into the room. “I’d like to know what you intend on doing with me so I can be prepared.”

  Alek shot him a clipped smile. “Ignoring you. That’s all I intend on doing.” What she should have done three years ago.

  Dinook reached out and gave Alek an affectionate pat on the arm. “Just like I tried ignoring my Kobalook for the first ten minutes.” She turned to Michael with a wide, gracious smile. “You can stay in this house as long as you need to. The both of you. And if you like sweet rolls, Dr. Morse—”

  “Michael,” he interrupted. “Call me Michael. All my friends do.”

  Dinook’s eyes lit up. “And if you like sweet rolls, Michael, I’ll be glad to fix them for you tomorrow morning.”

  “I love sweet rolls,” he said in absolute sincerity. “But, please, don’t trouble yourself on my account. Normally, I grab a cup of coffee or tea, and I’m good for hours.”

  “No trouble, Michael. A young man such as yourself needs more than coffee or tea to start his day.” She glanced at Alek and gave her a deliberate, and obvious, wink. “Much more, like my Kobalook did, and still does.”

  Alek plastered a tight smile on her face through the interchange, and didn’t even blink when Dinook trotted from the cabin without even asking if she, too, liked sweet rolls. “How do you do that?” she snapped, once the older woman had shut the door behind her. “You’re here all of one minute and she’s already waiting on you.”

  He shrugged. “I smiled. Works wonders, you know. You ought to try it some time. It might come as a pleasant change from your normal…well, whatever it is you call that expression you’re wearing.”

  “It’s called I’m already getting tired of your smile, Doctor” Alek tossed her backpack on the bed then took her proprietorial position next to it. “And don’t even think about trying to coerce me out of the bed, which I’m sure you could, and would, try to do, because I won’t be coerced by you. Not like the others.”

  “Pity. It might have been fun trying.”

  “Save it for someone who gives a damn, Doctor, because I don’t. I’m here to do my job, and that’s all I do. I don’t have time for anything else, including playing your games. Or even being a spectator to them.”

  Michael turned to the door on his way back out to the street, then, on second thought, turned back to face her. “You’re a beautiful woman, Alek, and I normally remember beautiful woman. In fact, I always remember beautiful women, and for some reason you think I should remember you. But I’m beginning to understand why I don’t.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she snarled.

  “It means if you want sweet rolls, you’ve got to act like you deserve them. And so far, since we’ve met, you don’t act like you deserve them.” He tweaked her under the chin the way one would tweak a favorite dog, then strolled over to the kitchen area to scrounge for a box of matches.

  “Like you deserve that parka someone gave you?”

  “It bothers you?”

  “You’re what bothers me. Not the parka, not the sweet rolls.” Although it did bother her that he’d ingratiated himself in mere minutes when she still questioned her own level of acceptance in the villages. They invited her in because they loved Dimitri, but how they felt about her, well, it certainly wasn’t what they already felt for Michael. “Not those boots,” she said, pointing to the nice pair he had on instead of the
white athletic shoes he’d started with. “Give me those matches,” she grumbled, swiping them out of his hand.

  “Want some firewood?” he asked.

  “If I want firewood, I’ll get firewood.” She trudged over to the log pile next to the stove, grabbed up three sizeable pieces of wood and shoved them in through the woodstove door, then set about the task of starting the fire as he stood back, watching. First two strikes didn’t take, and as she was about to go for a third, she heard him step up behind her. “Are you sure I can’t do that?” he asked, still keeping a reasonable distance between them.

  “You diagnose better, you treat better, so why not start a fire better?” With that, she stood up and handed him the matches. “Suit yourself. Start the damned fire and I’ll go out to medicate patients.”

  “You didn’t happen to eat any of Ben’s stew, did you?” he asked quite seriously as he tossed a match into the wood pile and the tinder sparked instantly. “Because everybody outside was telling me what a nice doctor you are, and what they’re saying certainly isn’t what I’m seeing.”

  “And what is it you think you’re seeing, Doctor?” she hissed.

  “What I’m seeing is somebody who’s really angry with me over something I didn’t do, or don’t recall doing.”

  “Well, score one for the teacher. Oh, excuse me. Isn’t it the teacher who usually scores one against the student?”

  He raised his eyebrows for a second and stared at her, then, without uttering a word, Michael walked straight over to Alek, pulled off her big fur hat and took a good, hard look at her. “So are you going to make me keep guessing, or come right out and tell me—give me a list of my offenses or your grievances? Or both? Because I’m not a mind-reader, Doctor. I have a great many other talents, but that’s not one of them, I’m sorry to say, because right now it would come in handy.”

  “Go to hell,” Alek snapped, backing away from him.

  “Being locked up in this room with you all night, something tells me that is going to be hell. Oh, and before this lovely conversation of ours erodes to the point where we don’t communicate at all, we need to get some mertroindazole to these people. I’m treating the nausea with Compazine right now—I found a little stash of it in your bag—but after talking with several of the locals I’m thinking that because of the length of time it took for them to get sick—we’re right at the ten-day point—the specific form of food poisoning is most likely Giardia, which we won’t know without testing, and we can’t test out here. So, unless you object, that’s where we start—treat it like it’s Giardia, use mertroindazole or a nitrofuran derivative. And three of the villagers are pregnant, so…”

  Alek shook her head impatiently. Sure, she’d wanted him here to help her work. But why did he have to be so impressive about it? Although she would never admit it to him, she was impressed. “So no treatment. I know what to do here, Doctor. I’m certified. Got a diploma from medical school. One from your class, too. Remember?”

  “Actually, no, I don’t. But I’ll take your word for it.”

  Alek snatched her hat away from him and headed to the front door. “I have furazolidone in the Jeep,” she said abruptly.

  “Need help?”

  “There are a great many things in this world I need, but your help isn’t one of them.”

  “I sure hope this isn’t your typical bedside manner,” he said, cutting her off, “because if it is, I’m not sure I would have certified you. Wilderness medicine takes patience and an unwavering temperament, and you’re wavering, Doctor. Wavering all over the place.” He gave her a broad grin. “It’s a cute waver, I’ll admit, but a little off the roost for most people since, in my experience, they prefer their doctors to be pleasant. And that scowl you’ve been giving me ever since you tried running me down on the road isn’t very pleasant.”

  “First off, you haven’t seen my bedside manner,” she snarled. “And second, I’ll be sending you a bill for the dent to my front bumper—damage that was incurred because I didn’t run you down.”

  “Something tells me that we’re not getting along so brilliantly,” he teased.

  “Well, finally we agree on something, don’t we?” She pointed to the spot on the floor next to the old computer desk in the opposite corner of the room. “Your side of the room, Doctor, and I’d thank you to stay as far away from me as possible.”

  “Trust me, when I settle in, I’ll be settling in somewhere much closer to a warm spot. And you, Alek Sokolov, are anything but warm.”

  He watched her stomp down the wooden steps to the street, then disappear round the corner before he shrugged out of his new parka and boots. By most standards, he hadn’t paid too much for them, and if he was going to be stranded here overnight, which it looked like was going to be the case, the clothing he’d brought with him wouldn’t be of much use. Of course, he’d expected to be in and out of Elkhorn by now, staying in a nice, warm hotel much further out and, with his mother, awaiting a ride from a bush pilot back to Anchorage, then on to Seattle. Instead, he was stranded wherever the hell Beaver Dam was—he’d checked and it wasn’t on the map—in a box of a room, with a stark, raving madwoman. A cute, stark, raving madwoman, though. One that intrigued him, and scared the hell out of him. In a cute way.

  So she’d been in one of his classes. Made sense, but there were some awfully muzzy days in his past. Too much work, too much of a struggle to be upwardly mobile, too much…well, too much of everything else.

  And no Alek Sokolov that he could recall. Or didn’t want to recall, yet somehow thought he should. Although he hadn’t seen enough of her yet to know for sure, he was guessing that if what was underneath all the bulky winter dressing was as good as the little he’d seen so far, she was someone no sane man would ever forget. So much fire and determination, a regular little ball of clash and conflict, and so spunky.

  Damn, he wanted to remember her. Something was tugging at him, but it clearly wasn’t coming through. And the frustrating thing was that she definitely remembered him. Considering the way he’d been, he shuddered to think why. “She’s on the list of my offenses somewhere,” he muttered, cringing at the thought. It was such a long list he’d have to pull out the reading specs to have a go at it.

  “But you are cute,” he said, bending to fan the growing flames. “Cute as hell, and mad as hell. Pity they don’t go well together.” The fire settled easily and, off and on, he wondered if he should go help her even though she’d made it pretty clear she was a solo act. His inclination was to do so, but he wasn’t kidding himself about this. If he did interfere, she’d have his head, and he doubted she’d have enough compassion toward him to serve it up on even the most meager of platters. And since he did have to be cooped up with her… “So let her do it by herself,” he muttered, looking out the front window at the snow. It was picking up—more wind, more of it coming down. Not a ferocious storm like he would have expected this far north, but a noticeable one.

  Still, she was out in it alone. “She’s wearing boots, she has a parka…” All good arguments, except there were fifty sick people out there, give or take the handful he’d already seen, all waiting for her to trudge about to find them. And even with all her fire and determination, there was no way she could get all that done alone no matter what kind of huffing and puffing she was putting on to keep him away from her. She needed help. More than that, he needed to help.

  “Damn it anyway, Alek,” he muttered, stepping back into his boots and grabbing up his own parka on the way out the door. “Why couldn’t I have met someone on the road who owned a gas station instead of an overworked, overly angry physician who hates me and who’s too stubborn for her own good?”

  The doctor in him prevailed, as was always the case, and Michael slogged back out into the cold and caught up with Alek halfway to the end of town. “So what do you want me to do?” he asked, falling into step for her.

  “Who said I wanted you to do anything? I’m perfectly fine attending to this on my own, wre
tched doctor that I am.”

  “The only thing wretched is your attitude, so give me a break, here. Okay? It’s cold, it’s snowing, I’d rather be on a beach soaking up the sun instead of flicking ice crystals off my eyelashes. But the people here need help, and while you can do it alone I can speed it up for you, cut the time in half. So let’s zip to the end of the argument now, skip all the stuff that comes between the start, where you hate me, and the finish, where you still hate me, and go straight to the place where you tell me what you want me to do and I go do it.”

  “It’s my job, Doctor, and I’ll do it just fine by myself. Always have, always will. Isn’t that what you taught in your class, that in many instances we’ll be the only help available? There will be no one else around to help with the work? Well, consider yourself no one.”

  Her voice was colder than the near subarctic winds blowing down on them. Another degree or two lower and it would snap in two like a brittle icicle, and if she had her way about it, the sharp, pointed end would pierce his heart on its fall to the ground.

  “Look, Dr. Sokolov. You’re the one who got out of her Jeep yelling at me about the symptoms these people were experiencing and ordering me to go out and look for patients. If memory serves, all I ever wanted was a tank of gas and directions to Elkhorn, but this is what I got and I’m trying to make the best of it. Or I would if you’d let me.”

  “And you found those patients, didn’t you? Found them and diagnosed them. I appreciate that, Doctor. I really do, but the rest is routine follow-up which I’m quite capable of handling on my own.”

  “You were quite capable of handling the initial assessments on your own, too, but you didn’t. In fact, you seemed to like ordering me about, so what did I do to make you even more angry than you already were? Am I paying for a sin from my past, or one of my present?”