One Arctic Summer

by Dani Haviland

  X whispered back, “Can we play doctor while the soup’s cooking? I’ll help you peel the potatoes…” She looked down at her hand, still held close to her chest in a makeshift calico-rag sling. “I guess not this time. Shoot! What can I do?”

  “I’d say supervise, but the kitchen is one place where I don’t need help. Don’t worry about it. One of these days, I might need an extra hand, too.”

  “I certainly hope not, for your sake, but if you do, just call.”

  Rocky smiled weakly at her comment. It probably wouldn’t be from the next room but would have to be a long-distance call. He sniffed back his uncertainty, willing himself to enjoy life in the moment. She was a wonderful woman, but would she be willing to wait for his three-year enlistment term to end?

  Rocky opened the front door and X nearly tripped again when she walked in.

  “Whoa!” he hollered, grabbing her elbow from behind to keep her on her feet. “What happened?”

  “My suitcase! Someone brought my suitcase to your house.” She grabbed it by the handle and slid it out of the way. “And whoever it was set it right in the doorway, so I’d be sure to see it. Hey, how’d they know I was staying here?”

  “I told you, everyone knows everyone in this town. You should be flattered.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone believes you’re one of us,” he said, eyebrows raised. “You even look like a Native.”

  “Thanks! Now, let’s see how I handle fish stew. If it’s anything like clam chowder, I’m all for it.”

  Rocky carried the suitcase into the bedroom and opened it for her, then went back in the kitchen and got dinner started. When he came back in, X was seated on the stool, her head in her hand. He put his hand on her shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t believe how much junk I have. I don’t need any of this. I’ve wasted so much of my life and money of accumulating worthless crap. Or high-priced stuff that I do need but that doesn’t need to be so frilly or padded.” She held up three fancy bras. “Do you need some packing material?”

  “Depends on if I need to box up a few of Grandma’s glass fishing floats,” he said. “Nah, you don’t need those. I like the way you’re built. You have all the right parts.” He pulled her up next to him, then put his hands under her arms on either side of her petite breasts. “Gorgeous milk jugs, whether they’re empty or full, pint-sized or gallon. Plus, the dispensers are fun to play with, even when they’re empty.”

  X grinned and blushed, despite herself. “How long until dinner?” she asked and winked.

  He looked down at his watch. “Only fifteen minutes until I need to check the potatoes. I set the timer just in case we got carried away. Or I can help you unpack and clear the bed for after dinner. We won’t be interrupted then.”

  “Unless Grandma comes back. Maybe she’ll want these?” X twirled the bra straps around her finger.

  “Double-barreled slingshots,” Rocky said, then took them from her and set them on the dresser. He leaned down and kissed her on the side of the neck, murmuring as he made his way to the crook near her shoulder, “I’m going to be greedy and take an aperitif and dessert.”

  ***

  The second day on the site was difficult. X was feeling better and couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out and help. Finally, Rocky pulled her away and set her hand back in the sling. “Stay! Direct only.”

  “But you don’t know what to do…”

  “I said, direct only. Use your words,” he said, frowning in frustration.

  “But it looks like it’s going to rain. I don’t want to give Dr. Jackass a reason to blame me for not getting this done on time…”

  “And I’m running out of bandages. Let’s try to keep it at one re-wrap a day, okay?”

  “Yes, doctor. Whatever you say,” X said, her grin containing the boisterous laugh she wanted to share.

  Rocky shook his head in exasperation. “If you want a high-dollar physician, try the clinic. Right now, I’m probably the best you can afford.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her sudden humiliation causing her stomach to roil. “I appreciate all you do for me. Really, I do. I’m just so used to having everything a certain way. At least, on a small scale. I guess I’ve been my mother’s puppet for so long, that I expected to be a puppet master when I grew up, too. Forgive me?”

  “Sure,” Rocky said, and bent back to his task, certain that in a few minutes, she’d revert to the same bossy person.

  “I’m serious, Rocky. Let me know—gently—if I cross the line. Maybe just a throat-clearing. I’ll take the hint. Promise.”

  “Okay. I believe you. Nome wasn’t built in a day and building a truly coordinated archaeological team takes time, too, I’m sure.”

  “I’ll work on your team any day, Doc.”

  “Back at ya, Captain.”

  ***

  “The clerk at the hotel and Oscar and Lisa mentioned the red raven and looked at me. What’s going on with that?”

  “I think you’ve already figured out that I mildly detest alcohol and drinking…”

  “Mildly and detest don’t go together,” X said, then ran a finger down his belly, stopping short of the area he had designated as off limits. She brought it back up again and said, “Maybe mildly disgusted or absolutely detest…”

  Rocky inhaled deeply at her provocative tickle and gasped, “The second one,” and took her hand and held it close to his heart. “If I’m going to tell you the story, you have to stop interrupting and distracting me.”

  “Yes, dear,” she giggled, and snuggled into his upper arm.

  “So, the reason I don’t care for alcohol is no good ever comes of it. When I was only sixteen, Q and I were at a friend’s uncle’s house. He invited us to have a drink. I knew what happened to others when they drank, but I thought I was different, that I’d be able to enjoy the taste and then go on my way. Nope. It tasted horrible! He used that brown mouthwash as a base for the liquor, then added crushed berries and I don’t know what else. They were just going for the effect. I think the berries were to make it look like wine. Of course, when I said that was not for me, they insisted that it always tasted better after the first few swallows. It did because I had no tolerance for the stuff.

  “Pretty soon, we were all bragging about our conquests, telling secrets to one up each other, or maybe they were lies. I don’t know because I don’t remember. It was winter and it was only by the grace of God that I made it home. I couldn’t get the door open when I got to Grandma’s. There isn’t even a lock on the door, but I couldn’t figure out how to turn the handle. She heard the thunk as I fell against the door and dragged me in. She never said a word, just held my head over the bucket while I puked ‘til I passed out. When I kept puking when I was unconscious, she stayed awake with me so I didn’t aspirate vomit and suffocate.

  “Anyhow, two days later, the guys started teasing me, asking me if I’d found my red raven yet. I knew about my dream, about growing old with the red-haired woman who was my mate for life, but I didn’t know how they knew. I didn’t remember telling them. And then I realized: I had shared my most treasured image with a bunch of drunks. Yes, they were my friends, but they didn’t treat my vision as the sacred trust it was.”

  “You didn’t act upset when Oscar or the clerk asked about it.”

  “I wasn’t. They knew how important my vision was. They weren’t teasing me; they were hoping it was true. There’s a big difference.”

  “So, am I your Red Raven?”

  “I don’t know yet. We’re not old, and I haven’t had the trials I know I need to go through. I want you to be, but there’s no way you can force a vision to come true.”

  ***

  Ten days passed with Rocky assisting X at the dig. He had taken the stitches out of her hand and belly after a week, but insisted she keep her hand out of the dirt. The lightweight gauze bandaging he used allowed her the freedom to photograph objects found and record the notations and measurement
s while Rocky did the excavating and cleaning.

  “You know I could probably do this by myself if I had to,” X said, then realized what her day would be like without Rocky in it. “But I’m not ready to try. I mean… Am I still in danger of infection or something?”

  Rocky wiped the dirt from his hands on a rag and came to sit down beside her on the other camp chair. He picked up the water bottle and took a long drink, searching for an honest answer that didn’t sound too sappy. “We’re always in danger of something. We can’t go through life scared. But I’d rather spend my days with you, digging in the dirt as your warm-blooded excavator, than down at the center, waiting for calls to come in. Besides, whaling doesn’t start for a couple months. It’ll be plenty busy then. For now, I’ll take life one day at a time.”

  A cold chill ran up her back as she realized the two of them had no real commitment. One day at a time used to sound great, but what she wanted from him was a forever. “Yeah, one day at a time,” she echoed, her eyes wide in fear.

  “For now,” Rocky repeated and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m not a quitter.”

  X picked up her pen and waved it like a light saber, adding a feigned smile to cover the sudden nausea that had settled in the pit of her stomach. “Me, either.”

  ***

  Each day, Dr. Jackson showed up around four in the afternoon, noted her progress in his journal, and asked redundant questions, the answers already entered in her detailed daily reports.

  “He knows we’re doing a great job,” X told Rocky, “but he wouldn’t say so if his job depended on it, which it doesn’t. As a class project this spring, we determined a timeline for the excavation based on the preliminary reports given to us by the borough. I’m more than a week ahead of schedule.”

  “Must be due to the diligence of your assistant,” Rocky said, then smiled and winked.

  “You know, every time you wink at me like that,” she said, “I feel like you’re throwing me a kiss.”

  “I guess I’m doing it right then,” he said and winked again.

  On the eleventh day, Dr. Jackson came out. “Ms. Oppenheimer,” he said icily, “I’m leaving you here unsupervised. I’ll be attending a seminar in California. I suggest you not take my absence as an excuse to slack in your responsibilities and decide to spend more time…ahem…entertaining the locals. I’ll be back when you least expect it. I have everything documented and know how much has been accomplished and how much still needs to be finished before the season ends. Your reputation in the field depends on my report, so don’t screw up.”

  Rocky watched X’s jaw muscles twitch as she decided whether to tell Jackson off or submit to her designated supervisor. Common sense won out. Her only reply was a nod that she had heard him.

  “Why, yes, thank you very much, Ms. Oppenheimer,” Dr. Jackson said snidely. “I’m sure I’ll have a good time. The California beaches in July are so much nicer—and sunnier—than Barrow’s. Oh, and I’ll be sure to use plenty of sunscreen, especially since I’ll be spending part of my time at one of the most renowned and exclusive nude beaches.”

  Dr. Jackson finished his sarcastic soliloquy, then looked over at Rocky and sneered.

  “Might want to take some bug spray with you, too,” Rocky said and grinned. “I hear sand flea bites will swell to three or four times their size. Then again, in your case, that might work to your benefit on a nude beach.”

  “Hmph!” the professor snorted, and turned and stomped away, headed toward his sanctuary, the king-sized hotel room that was still not big enough to hold all his rage and frustration.

  “What’s that?” X whispered to Rocky as she watched the angry man stumble one more time, something white trailing behind him.

  Rocky followed her finger and chuckled. “Looks like a toilet paper tail to me,” he said.

  “I think you’re right. I sure hope it’s one of the locals who bring it to his attention. He’s such a high and mighty bigot.”

  “Actually, I prefer to think of bigots as low and slimy. They just think they’re superior to everyone else,” Rocky said.

  “And by that one belief alone, prove that they are beneath the masses,” X said, finishing his thought.

  Chapter 8

  “Why do you always stop me? I know you want me—at least, I’m pretty sure you do. I know I certainly want you! Is there something wrong?”

  Rocky shook his head.

  “Are you scared?”

  Once again, Rocky shook his head, this time, adding a scowl at being hounded.

  When she didn’t get an audible answer, she whispered, “Are you a virgin?”

  “No.”

  “That’s it? No, you’re not a virgin?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Huh?”

  “Would you want the store manager’s son to tell about his little fling with you?”

  “No, I guess not, but it’s different when its’s from your perspective. Did something happen that you’re afraid to tell me? Did she have your baby?” X asked, suddenly insecure about her position in who was the most precious person in his life.

  Rocky squinted at her and shook his head, then groaned and laughed at the same time. “I guess I’d better tell you or you’ll be more miserable than I was. It was only once. She was older than I was and, shall we say, very experienced.” He shrugged. “She laughed at me.”

  “What? Unless you painted a clown face on your dick, I don’t see why she’d laugh at you.”

  “At first she giggled because I didn’t have a condom in my wallet like all the other guys who came to see her did. She had me pick one out of the assortment she kept in her purse.” Rocky huffed, his face red, recalling the embarrassment. “Then she laughed out loud when she saw I didn’t know how to put it on.”

  X’s stomach churned as she shared his humiliation on a gut level. She kissed his hand, letting him know she understood, then rolled onto her back and bared her belly. “You don’t have to worry about condoms with me. You couldn’t give me a baby if you tried. I can’t have one. I’m sure you saw the old scars on my belly when you were sewing me up.”

  She elbowed herself half-way up and traced the jagged scars just above her pelvis. “They’re from a car accident. I was all messed up on the inside, parts of the other guy’s car half-embedded in my body. I was only twelve, but I overheard the doctor tell my mother that I’d never be able to have a baby. She about freaked out. I thought she was concerned about me, then I heard her tell him he’d better not put that in any of his reports or she’d tell his wife about their affair. When he said he’d never messed around with anyone, including her, she said, ‘I know that, but she doesn’t.’ She wanted me to find the best—and by the best, I mean the richest—husband possible on the east coast. If it was known I was sterile, it would be a deal-breaker for about half the prime contenders.”

  She leaned back and sighed, sad and relieved that she had shared her humiliation and shame: she was barren. He knew everything there was to know about her now: all the evils of her family, her body, her secrets, her fears. He’d either accept her or reject her. All the love and hope that she had to offer was out there for him to nurture and adore, or toss into the lagoon, like a honey bucket of human waste.

  His warm breath on her neck sent goosebumps all the way to the soles of her feet, if that was even possible. Her toes curled in response. “Joining with you would be the end of one life and the beginning of another. Making a child is not what I mean by that, either. I made a mistake once with having intercourse with a woman I didn’t love. I was too young to know what I was doing. That’s my only valid excuse and the reason I didn’t go crazy. I gave her something I can never have back. I’m not talking about my virginity, either. I gave her a part of me, not just physically, but spiritually. At that moment, when two become one, it’s either something wonderful that’s created, or one person is taking from the other. I was nothing but a whoopie for her, a diversion, a heightened sensation similar to what she could ge
t from marijuana or alcohol. She used me.”

  “And what we have here…” X asked, insecurity racing across her chest, binding her breathing with steel wires of doubt. “We’re just sharing sensations, too. Is that what you’re saying—getting drunk on hormonal stimulations?”

  “No!” Rocky quickly turned to her and held her close, her bare chest to his, the feel of her skin chilled in fear even more heartbreaking because he knew he had caused it. “What we have is different. I don’t know how to explain it, but if you were anyone but who you are, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Rocky, I want to grow old with you.” X reached up and ran her fingers through the thick dark hair on the top of his head. “Even if you lose all these luscious locks and get fat and even more ornery, I still want to be in your life.”

  “As the village archaeologist?” he teased.

  “As your wife.”

  “The pay would suck.”

  X stroked up and over the bulge in his pants, teasing the zipper with her fingernail, knowing that the rumble over the metal teeth sent tiny vibrations to the man trapped beneath. “Yes, but the benefits would be phenomenal.”

  “Or so you hope…” Rocky nudged his nose across her bottom lip, following it as she gasped, her hands stilled with his distraction.

  He pulled back, letting her recover her breath, hoping she’d get back to teasing the zipper again. Maybe today…

  “Grandma told me about finding that special someone one day. I think she found hers in Joe. She did say he was the one she married years ago. Partners have come and gone in both their lives, but they still wind up with each other. Even alcohol couldn’t break them apart.”

  “Well, it did separate them for a while a couple dozen times,” Rocky said, then added dryly, “At least. But you’re right. I want what they have, but without the booze or breaks. I want to be mated for life.”

  “Like the swans?”

  “Lots of animals are like that. Man and woman should be, too.”