One Arctic Summer

by Dani Haviland

  One Arctic Summer

  Dani Haviland

  USA Today Bestselling Author

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  One Arctic Summer is a work of fiction. Names, place, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used for the readers’ enjoyment. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or fictional, events or business establishments is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Dani Haviland and Chill Out!

  All rights reserved

  Book Description

  Was she his Red Raven or just another cheechako, a tenderfoot from the outside world looking for excitement or a news story in his remote Alaskan village?

  Embrace the trials, frustrations, and richness of life in Barrow (Utqiaģvik), Alaska with the local ‘healer’ who changed east coast archaeology intern Alexandra Oppenheimer’s philosophy on life in 1994. Twenty-two years later, will the area be the same for her? And will Rocky have returned to it?

  The author visited Barrow (now Utqiaģvik) in 1994, the same summer this story takes place. The scenery—including the archaeological dig—people and warmth she experienced in this area was the inspiration for her tale of second chance love.

  Acknowledgment

  Thanks to the readers who suggest names when I can’t quite put my finger on one. I was using X as a place saver when Jennifer Walz Rieth suggested the name Alexandra (or Bones). Alexandra stayed as the given name but having X as a defiant woman’s nickname felt right, too.

  Praise and Awards

  USA Today Bestselling Author

  Kindle Top 100 Bestselling Author

  Amazon Top 100 Historical fiction authors

  “What pure fun and romance! Thanks for the fun Dani!” MistiRobin Amazon review of Never Too Young

  “This story kept you intrigued and wanting to know more.” Kelli Harper on Luke the Unexpected

  “There were definitely some great twists and turns that I didn’t see coming! Katie_83 on Luke the Unexpected

  Chapter 1

  June 18th, 2016

  Utqiaģvik (Barrow), Alaska

  “The beach hasn’t changed. Still the same tiny pebbles instead of sand or shells, Arctic milky-gray instead of tropical crystal-clear blue or Resurrection Bay green. When I left, this place was alive, vibrant—full of food for generations to come, the spirits of the water calling to those on shore, beckoning for man to come find the whales that were ready to cede their lives to feed the families of the two-legged souls who had chosen to leave the water-world and remain on the solid part of the earth.”

  “It’s still full of food,” Krista said. “True, the water has been eating away at the shore and the sea ice is melting, but there are still lots of fish in the water and seals and polar bears chasing after them. At least, that’s what the text books and media claim.”

  Alexandra shook her head, sniffed and wiped her wind-chilled nose. “Yes, dear. That might be true, but it’s not magical without him.” She walked back up the rise with her daughter to the cordoned-off excavation site. She remembered it as being much further inland, but that was when global warming was just a forecast, not a reality. The seas had risen, the coastline eaten up by the rising waters, and the bluff was now almost at sea level.

  “What’s going on, Mom? And why do you look so dreamy-eyed? You’re usually so analytical and reserved. Is there something wrong? Did you forget to pack your magnifying glass and hand sanitizer?” Krista joked and patted her on the shoulder. “If I had a mirror, I’d make you look in it. Honestly, Mom, you don’t even look like you.”

  “Knock it off, Krista,” Lars told his older sister. “I think she looks pretty. Mom, don’t listen to her. I think you still, and always will, look like you. It’s just that now you look like a prettier, happier you.”

  The mother laughed and shook her head, knocking off some of the dreaminess but letting the sweetness of her memories cling to her neck and shoulders, comforting her now that the cares of the world were beyond her reach.

  “Come on, kids, let’s head back toward the hotel. There’s a squall coming in and I don’t care to get wet.”

  “How do you know?” Lars asked.

  “The drop in the air pressure told me. If you’re sensitive to it, you can actually feel the difference on your face.”

  “Huh?”

  “Other than your eyes, the skin on your face is the most sensitive part of your body. Feel the air now, and when the rains come closer, we’ll come back outside and see if you can tell.”

  “You’re right, Krista. Mom’s acting weird,” Lars said, then ran ahead of the women, looking for something interesting in this barren land that his mother insisted was bountiful.

  “Grandma Lou always said you grew up that summer,” Krista said, “that you left Boston a spoiled and entitled brat but came back sweet, humble, and generous. What happened?”

  “I met your father.”

  “No,” Krista said and frowned, shaking her head. “Daddy said he’d never been to Alaska and never wanted anything to do with it.”

  “No, I met your father, not your daddy, God rest his soul.”

  She shrugged her shoulder and frowned with self-admonishment, letting the words sink in for her daughter. Krista’s eyes widened in shock and her mouth dropped open, but words wouldn’t come forth. She was a love child?

  “I never gave your father the chance to be a daddy. I should have. Not that it made me care any less for the man I married and who gave you his last name and reared you as his own. You see, I met your daddy when you were eight months old, just before Christmas. Well, I think he fell in love with you first and then me, but it really doesn’t matter. We had twenty wonderful years together. He’s gone, and you’re right, he said he’d never come to Alaska. I always wanted to come back, but I think he didn’t want me to because he was afraid I’d meet the man who sired you. That dreamy look you accused me of? Well, I guess I got it whenever anyone mentioned Alaska. He knew who I was thinking about. It’s not as if I would have ever cheated on him, but he was jealous of the love I shared with this other man. Ours was the kind of love that only comes once in a lifetime…”

  “Mo-om,” Lars said, “Do you have to talk all mushy like that when I’m around? Can’t you wait until I find something else to do? Right now, I’m cold. Can I go in and play a video game?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it isn’t here.”

  “But I packed it, Mom. I made sure I had the charger and everything.”

  “Yes, and I took it out of your backpack and threw in a couple extra pairs of clean socks. They’ll serve you better than those little electronic blips eating each other.”

  “But there’s nothing to do…”

  “Take a walk. Explore the town. See how other people live, talk to them, see if you can find a pick-up basketball game.”

  “Aren’t you afraid someone’s going to kidnap me?” Lars asked, then swatted at the mosquito on his neck.

  “Nope. What would they do if they stole you? Ask for ransom? Don’t worry about the people here. It’s not like you were in Boston or any other big city.”

  “Mom,” Krista interjected, knowing that Lars could argue for hours about any topic, and it was better to cut him off before he got too wound up, “If Daddy wasn’t my father, who was?”

  “Okay,” Lars said, “I have one question and then I’m outta here to go explore. Was Daddy my father?”

  “Yup!” Alexandra said, her grin of satisfaction unmistakable. “It took seven years of doctors’ visits, thousands and thousands of dollars in, shall we say, ‘medical procedures,’ and then I had you. You’re my $30,000 b
aby.”

  “Cool! That’s just as good as being a love child,” Lars said, then darted away before his sister could slap him. “I’ll be back before dark!”

  “You be back to the hotel when you get hungry or by eight o’clock, whichever comes first. It won’t get dark for another month!”

  “So, Mom, why didn’t you ever tell me?” Krista asked when they were alone.

  “I could say it’s complicated, but it was only because I didn’t want to upset Daddy. Now that he’s gone, it’s time.”

  “So, did my father work up here with you on the dig? Was he an archeologist, too?” Krista shook her head. “He couldn’t have been because I have no interest whatsoever in dry bones. Now, if he was a musician or a doctor, that I could understand.”

  Alexandra didn’t even try to keep the sly smile from her face. She’d answer one question at a time and reveal the whole story over the next few days. Ever since high school, it was rare that her daughter engaged her in conversation. She’d take all the time with her she could.

  “No, he wasn’t an archeologist, but he did help me on the dig. Do you want to hear the whole story? I mean, except for the personal parts.”

  “Ew! I certainly don’t want to hear how I was conceived! Yes, please stick to the PG and PG-13 rated parts.”

  “I was twenty-one and fresh out of Tufts University…”

  Chapter 2

  Twenty-two years earlier

  June 18, 1994

  Barrow (Utqiaģvik), Alaska

  Ding! Ding!

  The grim-faced young woman in designer jeans and a high-dollar rain jacket buttoned up to her chin smacked the chrome-bell on the counter, then craned her neck and looked down the short hall for the attendant.

  Frustration raised her voice an octave higher as she called out toward the back of the small convenience market, “Hey! Is anyone working here?”

  “He’s unloading the truck,” a male voice said softly, his choppy meter indicating he was native to the area.

  Alexandra jumped at the sound. “Oh! I didn’t see you there. Do you know if they have any cocoa butter moisturizing cream here? I brought a big bottle of it with me, but the airport security took it out of my carryon. As if hand lotion could be used to make a bomb!”

  “You never know,” the twenty-something year old Native man said dryly, then brought the small packet of paper he held close to his face, inspecting it. Holding the rolling paper and herbs in one hand, he used the point of his pencil to push a wayward strand of leafy material down, then licked one edge of the paper and rolled a perfect cigarette.

  “Smoking’s a disgusting habit,” she said, then brushed her auburn hair behind her ear and walked away to the opposite side of the three-aisle store to inspect the limited supply of cans on the shelf.

  Rocky chuckled softly and set the rolled ‘cigarette’ of his custom blend of herbs and dried seaweed next to the others on the plate near the window.

  Alexandra turned sharply at his laugh and snapped back, “Well, it is!”

  “So is judging others on outward appearances,” he said.

  Just then, Q walked in from the back of the store, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief that he stuffed back into his hip pocket. “Not much came in today, but maybe next week will be better. Hey, there,” he said as he nodded toward the plate in the window next to his cousin. “Looks like you got quite a bunch of those rolled for Margaret. I don’t know what to say but thanks, Rocky. I never thought anything would relieve her asthma. All the inhalers and pills they give her at the Native hospital did nothing but bloat her face and make her want to eat all the time. I’m not sure what you put in these but smoking one of them every once in a while sure opens up her airways. What do I owe you?”

  “Same as always, Q. Dinner one of these nights and…”

  Alexandra interrupted the two men, waving a can of chili in the air. “Are you kidding me? Five bucks for a can of chili? You have to be out of your ever-lovin’ mind!”

  Q and Rocky looked at each other, their grins identical, their dark eyes dancing as they silently decided who was going to be the one to give this cheechako the lecture on the costs involved with bringing ‘Outside’ food into Barrow. Just as Q was ready to explain the economics behind his pricing, the base station radio crackled.

  “Hey, Q. It’s me, Big Ben. We got another one. Over.”

  “Roger that. Rocky’s here with me now. What’s your location and situation?”

  “Half mile before you get to the polar bear sign. Make sure Rocky has lots of cat gut. Little Ben was showing off. The cut’s not deep, but it is long.”

  Rocky reached beside the duct tape-patched kitchen chair he sat in and grabbed what looked like a plastic tackle box. He held it up for Q to see, then stood up and grabbed the hand-held radio from the charger.

  “We’re on our way. Over and out,” Q said, then let his finger off the radio switch, following Rocky out the door before it shut.

  Alexandra set the chili back on the shelf and raced outside, shouting after the pair, “So, does this mean I have to wait before I can buy anything?”

  Q stuck his fist out the truck window and gave her a thumb’s up, then grabbed the steering wheel and shifted gears. Little Ben was big for an Inupiaq, but he was also diabetic. Even a minor wound could cause major problems. Rocky and Q didn’t have time for a prissy white woman and neither did Little Ben.

  ***

  “Well, it’s about time!” X groused when the two men came in an hour and a half later. “What’d you do? Stop off for a beer?”

  Q and Rocky shared that same brown-eyed twinkle of ‘should I tell her, or do you want to?’ This time, Rocky shrugged a shoulder to Q, accepting the task.

  “Barrow is a damp town. There’s no place—bars or taverns—for us to drop in and have a beer. Besides, neither of us drink.” He looked around and saw the displays had been dusted and the cans and boxes straightened and brought forward so the shelves looked fuller than they actually were. “Thanks for sprucing up the place. Did you decide what you wanted?”

  Alexandra huffed then slid the can of chili and a can of evaporated milk toward the vintage cash register. “Do you happen to have a can opener and a microwave here? I can use my pocketknife to punch a hole in the canned milk for my tea in the morning, but it won’t work for the chili.”

  “Microwave’s right over there and the can opener is right next to it,” Rocky said.

  “You pay me,” Q said. “I’m the owner. He just hangs out here.”

  “Hmph,” she remarked with one eyebrow raised, then took a twenty-dollar bill out of her Gucci shoulder bag and handed it to him. “And make sure you count back the change; don’t just dump it in my hand.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Q said, fighting back a full-blown laugh at her rudeness.

  “I’m a miss!” she said, flipping her hair back.

  “Yes, miss!” Q replied, fighting back the urge to salute her. Instead, he stuck his hands in the till and took out the change. “Ten, fifteen, twenty dollars. Thank you for your business, miss. Have a nice day.”

  “Hmph!”

  Alexandra grabbed her high-priced cans and strutted to the microwave next to the hallway. Grabbing the can opener with an exaggerated flourish, she spread its jaws and clamped down on the lid, squeezing the handle and twisting the knob with a vengeance. Once the lid was canted up, she held it by the edges and neatly dropped it into the waste basket next to the counter. It was then that she realized she didn’t have a bowl to put it into or a spoon to remove the contents.

  “You can buy some paper plates or bowls,” Q offered, “or dump it into a coffee cup. I usually don’t let folks have a cup without buying coffee, but since you’re new around here, you can use the cup for free.” He reached under the counter and brought out a single porcelain cup, coffee-stained brown, the handle chipped but usable.

  “Thanks,” she said, scowling at the marginally sanitary vessel. “How about a spoon? Is there a charge for that?
”

  “Not unless you take it outside the store.” Q took the spoon from beside the coffee pot that held an inch of overcooked java and wiped it with the red handkerchief from his back pocket. “Don’t forget to give it back when you’re done.”

  “Yeah, it’s part of a set,” Rocky added with a chuckle, then went back to rolling the rest of the herbal blend in his mis-matched plastic container.

  Alexandra took the spoon hesitantly, her stomach growling to hurry up and get it done. With her back to the men, she reached in her purse and removed a tissue from its small packet and re-wiped the spoon. She turned back and dumped half the food into the cup, covering the contents with the tissue so the chili didn’t splatter all over the inside of the microwave. When she opened the oven door, she gasped. “Oh, my goodness! When was the last time someone cleaned this?”

  “Was it my turn this year?” Rocky quipped. “Or maybe that was last year, and I forgot…”

  “Ergh! I guess it’ll have to do. At least with the tissue on top, the old baked-on crud won’t fall into it!”

  Alexandra pushed the set-time and start buttons, but nothing happened. She pushed the quick cook for popcorn and nothing happened with that, either. “How do you get this thing to work?”

  “Oh,” Q said with as straight a face as he could manage. “I told you we have a microwave. You never asked if it worked or not.”

  “Now how am I supposed to eat this?” she screeched, waving the spoon in the air.

  “With the spoon would probably be the least messy way,” Rocky said, then licked the paper on the last herbal smoke, looking down at his project to keep from laughing out loud.

  “But it’s cold!”

  “Yeah, and once it’s in your belly, it’ll be warm,” Q said. “What’s the problem? At least it’s not frozen. If it was, it might break your teeth.”