Beth nodded. “That sounds reasonable. Did you leave your family in Nome?”
“I don’t have any family,” August said, and then corrected himself. “Except for my sister and her husband. My father passed away last year, and I’ve never married.”
“I see,” Beth said, stirring the cut potatoes into the hot lard on top of the stove. She turned thick ham steaks in the cast-iron skillet, satisfied with the way they were browning.
“What about you? Any family other than the boys?” August questioned curiously.
“No, there’s no one else,” Beth answered. She retrieved canned peaches from the cupboard before continuing. “My husband, JB, was a pilot with the Royal Canadian Air Force. He was killed shortly after the Battle of Britain.”
“I’m sorry,” August whispered. “What happened?”
“His best friend wrote me about it,” Beth said and realized it was the first time she’d ever shared the details of JB’s death. “JB was one of the best pilots in the service. He always managed to get himself and his plane out of any risky situation, except the last time. JB always had a bad feeling about using anybody else’s plane. Sure enough, when he died, he was flying another man’s Spitfire in a routine maintenance check.”
“Was he shot down?” August asked, intent on the young woman’s answer.
“No,” Beth said, remembering the words of the letter she’d received. “He took off but didn’t have enough power to make the Spitfire climb. He reached the end of the runway with a forest of trees directly in front of him and not enough lift to clear them. He crashed into them and was killed instantly in an explosion.”
“How awful,” August said, considering the fiery death.
“My comfort is that JB was a devout Christian. He loved the Lord more than anything in this world, and I have confidence that he’s in heaven.”
August grimaced slightly at Beth’s reference to JB’s devotion to God. He’d once felt that way about God himself. Now there was only bitter resentment for what he’d lost out on.
“What’s wrong?” Beth questioned, noticing August’s frown.
“Nothing,” August replied as he tried to change the subject. “Your boys must have been very young. No wonder they thought I was their father.”
Beth realized she’d hit a nerve with August. “They were very young when JB joined the service and went away. I’ve tried to keep his memory alive by telling them stories of their father and keeping his picture in the living room, but it isn’t the same. I worry about them sometimes, but when I get too concerned, I pray about it and turn them over to their heavenly Father.” Beth wondered how August would react to another reference to God.
August didn’t have a chance to respond, however, as Gerald called from the other room, “Is it time to eat yet?”
Beth watched August’s expression change to one of amusement. “Sounds like I’m not the only one who’s hungry,” he chuckled.
“I’ll be right back,” Beth said after giving the potatoes a quick stirring. She disappeared for a moment and returned with the boys right behind her. “You boys take a seat with Mr. Eriksson at the table, and we’ll eat.”
“Would it be all right if they called me August?”
Beth nodded. “I suppose, if that’s your wish.”
“It is,” August said with a smile. “Would you boys like that?”
“August is a month,” Gerald offered as if it were news to the stranger.
“That’s right, and you are every bit as smart as you are brave. I imagine your mother is very proud of you.”
Gerald beamed from ear to ear, while Phillip leaned over and reached for August’s hand. “Daddy,” he stated clearly, refusing to have any part of August’s first name.
Gerald reached over and pulled his brother back. “No, Phillip, he’s not our daddy, but maybe he will be.” Gerald looked up at his mother and asked, “Do you think since our real daddy isn’t coming back that August could be our new daddy?”
Beth turned crimson at the question, and August fought to keep from revealing his own consideration of such an idea. He was already more than just a little fond of the young mother and her boys. Still, they’d only met, and August knew there was much more to be considered than physical attraction.
“Why don’t you just pray about it, Gerry,” Beth finally suggested. “God will listen to your prayers, and if He feels that it’s important for you to have a new daddy, then He will send one to us.”
“I did pray for a daddy,” Gerald insisted. “I prayed that God would send Daddy home, but you told me he has to stay in heaven. So maybe God sent this one instead.” He pointed at August and smiled. “I think you’d make a good daddy.”
“I think you’re right,” August said with genuine fondness for the boy. “Maybe I could be a pretend daddy,” he offered with a glance toward Beth. “If your momma doesn’t mind, maybe I could take you boys fishing and teach you how to chop wood and hunt for food. Of course, I have to work at my job with the new highway, but when I’m not working, maybe we could do some things together.”
Gerald clapped his hands and bobbed up and down in his seat. At his brother’s excitement, Phillip squealed with delight and Beth had no idea how to react. She thought it totally inappropriate for August to even suggest such a thing, while the boys thought it perfectly natural.
Unable to hold back her tears, Beth turned quickly to the food on the stove to avoid worrying the children or causing August to question her reaction. Regaining her composure, she wiped the tears with her apron and joined her family at the table with the steaming food. She started to sit and then remembered the peaches and bread.
“So is that okay, Momma?” Gerald questioned. “Can August be our pretend daddy?”
Beth turned to meet August’s dark eyes. He seemed to understand her pain and offered a warm smile that reassured her that his intentions were only those that would benefit her sons.
“It’s okay, Gerry. You and Phillip can probably learn a lot from August, but just remember to tell me your plans first.” She said the latter for August’s sake more than the boys. He nodded a promise and Beth felt calmness wash over her.
She opened the can of peaches and poured them into a bowl, then cut thick slices of her slightly over-browned bread. Bringing these to the table along with the jelly dish, Beth took her seat.
“Would you like to offer grace, August?” Beth questioned, wondering what his response would be.
August shook his head. “I’d like to hear Gerald give grace, if you don’t mind.”
Beth nodded, thinking how smoothly August had avoided having to pray.
“Dear God,” the boy began, “this is Gerald Hogan. You have my daddy in heaven with You, and I want You to tell him that August is going to be our pretend daddy. Tell him we still love him, but we need a daddy on earth.”
Gerald’s words cut deeply into Beth’s heart. She’d tried so hard to be mother and father to her sons and never once thought of the void in their lives.
“And God,” Gerald continued as an afterthought, “thanks for the food. Amen.”
Beth opened her eyes to find August’s gaze fixed upon her. She returned the stare while the boys, mindless of the exchange, helped themselves to bread and jelly.
Beth’s expression was almost one of pleading, August decided, but for what? Was she fearful that he’d hurt her young boys, or was she more frightened of how his “pretend fatherhood” might affect her? She looked so young and scared. August wished he could ease her worries.
Without thought, he reached out and placed his hand over hers and gave a squeeze. Then just as quickly, August turned his attention to the food and found himself in an intense conversation with Gerald about the new highway.
A strange sensation crept over Beth. Her heart pounded at the thought of August touching her, yet her mind screamed betrayal. She mindlessly pushed her food around the plate, all the while considering the implication of August’s role playing. It seemed such a r
easonable arrangement, yet for all she was worth, Bethany couldn’t comprehend why.
Chapter 5
August’s work with the Alaskan/Canadian Military Highway project took him away from Beth and the boys for long hours each day. Often when he arrived home it was all he could do to clean up before dropping into bed. Gerald and Phillip grew impatient for his company, but Beth faithfully explained why it was necessary for August to spend so much time away from them.
The combined efforts of the United States and Canada resulted in the scheduled creation of a highway that would cover more than 1,486 miles, from Dawson Creek, British Columbia, to Fairbanks, Alaska. Calling it a highway was an optimistic overstatement. The road was clearly nothing more than a bulldozed path through an unyielding wilderness.
Never intended to do more than provide emergency access to the north should the Japanese cut off the water and air routes, this road of mud and ice quickly became a problem of outrageous proportions.
Frozen subsoil, permafrost, muskeg, and long hours of sunlight created problems that made engineers throw up their hands in frustration. Coupled with the fact that there were inadequate supplies and living accommodations for the eleven thousand troops, most of whom were from the southern United States and completely unacquainted with the cold temperatures that seemed to come at will, the highway quickly became a matter of man against nature.
Canada provided access to the lands through British Columbia and the Yukon Territory, as well as much of the needed building materials. All of this was given in exchange for unlimited use of the road following the war.
As engineers and administrators brought their plans together and fine-tuned the design of the project, it was determined that over 130 log and pontoon bridges would be needed to accommodate the hundreds of rivers and lakes that the highway would have to cross.
Added to this were some eight thousand culverts to be dug and reinforced to combat the constant drainage problems created by the swampy soil.
Behind the frustrations of a seemingly endless number of new problems was the threat of Japanese invasion of Alaska. Though few knew of the plan, military experts had found a way to decode Japan’s messages in time to learn of Alaska’s vulnerability to attack.
Even as far north as the rural villages of Alaska, and perhaps because such vulnerability seemed evident, the mood was one of hushed and guarded silence.
Beth’s ten-room boardinghouse was rapidly becoming a common meeting place for the army leadership and the Public Roads Administration. If the weather was cooperative, the group usually assembled outside, where August had placed a number of crudely built tables and chairs. Other times, however, the weather was rainy or cold, and Beth allowed the men to take over her living room while she and the boys holed up in her bedroom.
Glancing outside, Beth could see that the day’s weather would allow for an outdoor gathering, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The meetings always made her rather uncomfortable. She never could figure out what disturbed her most: the presence of uniformed men or the worry that military secrets might fall upon the ears of her children, only to be carelessly babbled later.
She finished pulling the last of five wild raspberry pies from the oven as August came striding into the room.
“Ummm, smells wonderful, Beth. Don’t suppose you’re going to let me buy them for our meeting?”
“What else would I do with five pies?” Beth asked, chuckling. “Are you certain the men will reimburse you? I can’t charge you two dollars a pie in good faith if I have to worry that you’ll be out the entire amount.”
“They stand in line to pay me,” August said with a grin and added, “and at thirty cents a slice, they’re going out in good shape, and so am I. Helps me pay the rent,” he teased.
“I keep meaning to talk to you about that,” Beth said as she smoothed back her blond hair and reinserted one of the combs that held it back at the sides.
“Great,” August said in a mocking tone of dissatisfaction, “I suppose my rent is about to go up.”
“No, not at all,” Beth said, mortified that August would tease about such a thing.
“Relax, it was a joke, Beth,” August said as he eyed the young woman seriously. “What did you want to talk about?”
“I can’t see you having to pay as much as everyone else when you help out so much around here. I mean, you cut most all my wood, you mended the fence and the roof, not to mention that you worked up the dirt for my garden. It’s only fair that I offer you some type of compensation.”
August smiled and wondered if Beth could begin to imagine the type of compensation he’d like to redeem from her. The fact was, he was growing more attracted to the young widow and her sons each day.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” August finally said. “But if you’re doing it for my sake, then stop worrying. I’m grateful for the time you allow us to meet and disrupt your home in order to coordinate plans for the road.”
“I don’t feel it’s adequate compensation,” Beth interjected. “I’d like to at least reduce your rent. If you have something else in mind, I’m open to suggestions.”
August grinned and pushed back his black hair. “Well, an occasional hot meal might do the trick,” he said, knowing that he couldn’t very well come out and say that he’d like to spend more time getting to know her.
“That seems a simple request,” Beth said, realizing how pleasant it would be to have August at her table. “But not an occasional meal. I think it’s only right that you share all our meals, if you want to. I’ll even pack you a lunch if you’d like.”
“You’ll spoil me,” August laughed, “but I’ll enjoy it while you do. I’d be quite happy to accept your offer, Bethany.”
Beth smiled nervously and made a show of rechecking the oven as if a pie had been inadvertently overlooked. She knew that August was attracted to her, yet she hadn’t decided if she liked the idea or not.
It had been over a year since JB had died and longer than that since she’d seen him, but the ghostly image of her husband was never so haunting as when Beth felt the cold, gold band that still adorned her finger. Perhaps when she was ready to put away that last reminder of her marriage, she would be able to deal with the interest of another man.
“Well, I’d best make sure everything is ready for our meeting. The army’s bringing the coffee this time, so we shouldn’t have any trouble staying awake long enough to resolve any new differences. I’ll be back for those pies in about an hour, if that’s all right with you.”
“They should be cooled by then,” Beth said and offered August a smile.
August nodded and left Beth to the task of cleaning up. Beth watched through the window as several army vehicles pulled into her yard, unleashing a throng of uniformed men and a large coffee pot.
A knock on her front door sent Beth to answer it. She opened the door to find two young soldiers looking rather sheepishly at her.
“May I help you?” she questioned softly.
“Ma’am, we’re here helping with the road,” one of the men began as if Beth wouldn’t already be privy to the information.
Beth nodded and the man continued.
“Well, me and Ronnie here, we’ve been coming to these meetings, and well, ma’am,” he stammered for just the right words.
“Go on,” Beth encouraged sweetly.
“Well, it’s like this. We’ve been eating your cakes and pies whenever Mr. Eriksson offers them for sale, and we surely do miss our mom’s cooking. Army grub just ain’t anywhere near as good.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Beth said, suppressing a laugh.
“We was wondering, hoping really, that we could pay you to make some of our favorite sweet potato pie. We’ve managed to get our hands on some canned sweet potatoes, and while they won’t be near as good as fresh, we’d be mighty happy to pay you to bake us however much it would make. In the way of pies, that is.”
Beth felt sorry for the boys. “I’m not sure I have
a recipe for sweet potato pie,” she said honestly.
“It’s pert’ near the same as pumpkin,” the other boy offered. “But I reckon I can get you a copy of the recipe from somebody.”
“Well then, you get me the recipe, and I’ll be happy to make your pies. One thing, though, I use mostly honey, due to the shortage of sugar. If you don’t think the results will be as good, we’d probably best call off the whole arrangement right now.”
“No ma’am,” the first soldier offered. “Whatever way you make it will be just fine. We’ll be back when we can bring you the recipe and the sweet potatoes. How much you gonna charge us for the pie?”
Beth thought for a moment. “I think a dollar would be a fair amount,” she answered. While she charged August two dollars for most of her pies and cakes, she knew he easily made his money back. These boys, however, were not going to be making much profit because Beth was certain they’d be eating most of the pie themselves.
“Sounds just fine by us,” the one called Ronnie said as he looked at his friend. “They charge us nearly that much for a single piece at the café in town, and the army could never make anything as good as what you serve, ma’am.”
“Well, I appreciate your compliments, boys. Now you’d best get around back, because I’ve a feeling the meeting will be starting shortly, and tonight we’re having raspberry pie.”
“Yes ma’am!” they answered in unison and hurried to the backyard.
“So our biggest problem at this point,” Ralph Greening was explaining, “is the need for a much larger airfield in order to bring in the bigger planes and more supplies.”
“It’s not just a problem,” an army colonel offered. “It’s imperative that we have this runway.”
“I understand the need, gentlemen. However, the land around us is most uncooperative. We have a tremendous problem with the permafrost. I’ve asked August Eriksson to address this problem and to let you know about the progress we’ve made. August, go ahead.”
Brides of Alaska Page 17
