by Carol Ross
“They did. Fritz himself is coming in tomorrow. Amanda talked to him last week and he said he wouldn’t be able to get to it before June. Last week he was booked solid and now suddenly he has an opening tomorrow.”
“Huh, must have had a cancellation.”
“Yeah,” she returned drily, “that’s probably it. And another funny thing happened this afternoon. You know that copy machine that was on back order for six months? It was delivered today, too.”
“Wow, more good news.”
“Yep, it’s almost like a real office in here now.”
They both knew that it was only because of Bering that they were now getting any help for the myriad of problems that had plagued them since they’d arrived. “Thank you, Bering, for putting an end to the siege.”
“It seemed an unfair and unnecessary approach. However much they might delay, guerrilla tactics will not win this war.”
“You’re right about that,” she replied quickly. “We’ve faced much worse than faulty equipment, I can assure you.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“We were firebombed once.”
“What?”
Why did she tell him that? She rushed to explain, “It was just a homemade fireball, a Molotov cocktail. We weren’t injured or anything. It did almost burn down our house, but we got out. We were fine.” Truth be told, it had been terrifying for both her and Amanda.
He muttered something unintelligible but she felt the tension. His voice was low as he said, “I don’t know why I didn’t realize how dangerous your job must be sometimes.”
“No more dangerous than yours, I’m sure.”
“My job isn’t dangerous.” He sounded baffled.
“Grizzly bears and wolves aren’t dangerous?”
“Not if you don’t irritate them. They only get upset when you invade their territory.”
“I can see that, I guess. But it’s basically the same with firebombers,” she quipped.
“Emily, that’s not funny.”
“I know. It really wasn’t. But sometimes it’s either laugh or cry—and I rarely cry. Are you calling for a reason, by the way, or did you just want to harass me again after a very long day?”
Bering chuckled. “Harassing you is surprisingly entertaining, but I was calling to see if you’d like to do something besides work tonight.”
“Oh...” Emily felt her pulse kick up a notch. “What did you have in mind?”
“Tag and I were wondering if you and Amanda would like to meet us at the Cozy Caribou and maybe try that root beer I’ve been telling you about.”
Emily wanted to say yes. But probably not a good idea, she told herself, because in spite of all this friendly banter, she knew they could never really get past this Cam-Field business. Hadn’t his letter in the paper this morning proved it? More than likely he was trying to soften her up for another ambush. That flash of sanity caused her to answer, “I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea.”
“And why is that?”
“Did you happen to see the paper this morning?”
His tone took on a boyish eagerness as he asked, “So, what’d you think?”
Emily smiled. “It’s truly a very good article. It’s a shame you aren’t on our side. But I think you’re missing something here, Bering. What I’m trying to do here is illustrate a point about us socializing. I really don’t think it’s a good idea, but I do want you to know that I am so grateful for everything you’ve done and—”
“Emily, all I did was make a few phone calls. It’s not like I’m expecting you to surrender in return. I had no ulterior motive for doing so other than the fact that like I told you, that kind of stonewalling isn’t going to win this for our side. What is right will win. And obviously I’m right, so I will win.”
She chortled and said, “We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will, and in the meantime, I don’t see any reason why we can’t have a drink. You informed me just this morning that you are a professional.”
Amusement washed over her as he threw her own words back at her. She was suddenly conscious of the fact that her headache was rapidly subsiding and the knots in her stomach were dissolving. The tightness in her belly was now of a completely different sort.
“All right,” she said. “You got me. Hold on, let me ask Amanda.” She held a hand over the phone and whispered, “Do you want to go out with Bering and Tag and grab a drink or something before we head home?”
“Absolutely!”
Emily said goodbye and then turned to gather her stuff.
“Wait,” Amanda whispered dramatically. She gripped Emily’s arm with one hand and placed her other palm flat on her chest. “I think I feel that fake attack of something coming on....”
* * *
EMILY AND AMANDA entered through the back door of the Cozy Caribou, which they discovered was also the door to the bar. They walked through to the restaurant but didn’t see Bering or Tag, so they seated themselves at a table. A cheerful waitress efficiently took their order—two birch-sweetened root beers—and as they waited for their drinks, Emily took in the surroundings and decided she very much liked the rustic atmosphere of the place. The floor was constructed of light ash-colored planks, and the walls were paneled in an attractive unfinished wood, which had taken on a faded gray hue and brought out complementary tones in the floor. Antique tools, vintage snowshoes, trapping gear, logging equipment and fishing paraphernalia covered the walls and enhanced the outdoorsy feel. Emily figured the owner could probably make a fortune selling the items off piece by piece online.
Classic rock music blared from an old jukebox in the corner and was accented by the sound of slamming billiard balls from one of two tables situated along one side of the room. But it wasn’t so loud that she couldn’t hear other sounds. Happy sounds, she thought, family sounds. She took in the clink and thud of mugs and the shuffle of heavy-heeled boots on the hardwood floor. Masculine booming laughter, high-pitched feminine voices and kids’ giggles flavored the mix.
Their drinks were being served when Emily looked up and felt the breath catch in her throat. She’d seen him that very morning but for some reason that now seemed like a long time ago—too long. There was something so appealing about him; there was a strength and deliberation in his movements that screamed out self-confidence, which she knew he had in droves. But there was kindness there; she knew that now. He also made her laugh, and he made her think—kept her on her toes. She liked that, too...the way he challenged her. She’d never met anyone who’d ever been quite as much of a match for her in that way....
Amanda eventually caught her stare and turned to look. “Oh, they’re here.”
“Yeah, did I tell you that he really was named after the Bering Sea?”
“Um, no.”
Emily quickly explained. “Isn’t that sad? Their mom raised Bering and his sister all by herself. Well, according to Bering, she wasn’t really by herself—because of all their extended family and friends. But you know what’s really awful? His sister lost her husband in a logging accident six months ago, and she’s pregnant with twins.”
Amanda hesitated and then said, “That’s very interesting, Em. What else have you learned about him?”
“Nothing, I mean, I asked and I, um...” Emily trailed off as she watched Bering standing at the bar joking with a man who’d just seated himself at a neighboring stool. Neither he nor Tag had seen them yet, and Emily realized that they probably assumed she and Amanda would be coming in through the front door. She noticed that Bering kept glancing in that direction and the realization that he might be watching for her caused a warm thrill to spike through her.
“He’s pretty intense, Em.”
“He is, but it’s because he’s so passionate about what he believes in, and I like that. I wish I had that kind of passion for something. I admire how he...” Her voice trailed off as she noticed him stand and reach across the bar to pick up a napkin. The ridged muscles of his arms tense
d and bulged as he moved, the sleeves of his T-shirt hugging every inch. He swiveled on the stool and picked up his glass.
“You admire how he—what?” Amanda asked with a teasing grin as she watched Emily watching Bering.
“Um...”
“Looks, moves, talks, licks your earlobe, bites your toes, what?”
“Amanda, no, jeez. It’s not like that. It’s just that he’s really—”
“Gorgeous, I know,” she finished for her. “Emily, it’s okay to admit you’re attracted to him, you know?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda. I’m not...He’s... I mean, obviously he’s a great guy, but I could never...”
“You could never what?” Amanda asked. “Spend some time with a decent guy who really liked you?”
“It could never work. This thing is too much. We’re just...friends, I guess. If that’s even possible. I don’t know.”
“Fine, if you so insist. But I encourage you to have some fun with your new friend, though you might want to wipe that look off your face because he is bound to get other ideas.”
Emily threw a startled glance at Amanda. “What?”
“I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Well, that’s just...” She started to say ridiculous but then caught on that Amanda was in fact doing her a favor. “I’ll work on it,” she said drily.
She would like to have some fun, she decided as she focused on Bering taking a long pull from his frosty glass. Suddenly he turned and met her eyes, and Emily knew she’d been caught. And the look on his face had her wondering if he was thinking about something more than friendship, too.
* * *
ACROSS THE ROOM, Bering felt as if an invisible arrow had pierced his midsection. But it was a pleasant sensation, like a warm explosion in the pit of his stomach. He knew he’d been looking forward to seeing her, but now that she was here in the flesh and smiling at him with that guileless face that he now knew was completely at odds with who she was professionally...
It took his breath away, and it almost made him forget again what she’d been sent here to do, and what he had to do in return. But he didn’t want to think about that right now, because she was smiling at him and it just felt too good.
Bering had reached the conclusion that Emily was too serious about, and too fixated on, her work. And while he admired that kind of ethic and he definitely admired the courage that doing her job obviously required, he suspected she was missing the most fundamental rewards of all that hard work. What was the point of working hard if you didn’t ever take the time to enjoy what was important in life? If anything positive could be taken from the tragic deaths of his dad and his brother-in-law, it was that. Life was short.
His eyes met hers and held, and then he took a long second to smile back. There was definitely something there, he decided as a rush of satisfaction flooded through him. She felt it, too.
“Tag,” he said, trying to get his cousin’s attention.
But Tag was deep into one of Mac’s yarns that, unbelievably, he’d apparently never heard before. Bering had, several times, and according to his calculations, he was about midway through the hilarious incident, which involved one of their mutual friends, a record-book salmon catch and an angry moose. But he didn’t have time to hear it again right now.
He stood and nudged his cousin in the ribs with his elbow. “Tag, they’re here. I’m going to go sit down.”
“Ouch! What the—” Tag glared, rubbing his side.
“I’m going to sit.” Bering gestured across the room.
“What is wrong with you? Sit down, then. There are empty seats right here at the bar and... Oh,” he said, catching the direction of Bering’s gaze and quickly getting on board. “I’ll get our refills and meet you there.”
Bering was already walking away.
* * *
EMILY FELT HER PULSE begin to race as Bering approached the table.
“Hi,” he said softly and lowered his large frame into one of the two vacant chairs. Emily was struck once again by how incredibly agile he seemed for such a big guy.
His gaze grabbed hers and held on tight. “I am so glad you decided to show up.”
Emily smiled and tried not to read something into such an innocuous comment.
He looked over at Amanda. “Hey, Amanda, how are you?”
Amanda grinned and they all chatted until Tag sat down.
Then Bering looked back at her. “So, what did you do with the rest of your day?”
Emily raised her brows and gave him a look that told him how silly the question was.
“Ah, work, of course,” he said. He dipped his chin toward his chest as if waiting for more. “And that’s it?”
“Yep, that’s it.” That’s always it, she added in silent disappointment.
“Hmm, sounds kind of boring.”
“It was,” she found herself admitting, “but I’m not bored now.”
His mouth held a satisfied smirk. “That’s good. I see you ordered the root beer.”
“I did. A friend recommended it, but I haven’t tasted it yet.”
The curve of his lips widened into a smile. “That’s good, too, because now I can see your face when you try it.”
“Bering, what could possibly be so special about it? It’s root beer.”
He lifted a brow.
Emily gripped the mug and took a sip...and felt her taste buds celebrate. “Wow,” she said as she looked down at the mug and then back up at Bering. “What the...?”
The look of pleasure that flashed across his face made Emily smile in return.
“It’s the syrup,” he explained. “It’s from birch trees unique to Alaska.”
“Ah, were you worried I wouldn’t like it?” she asked.
“No, I wasn’t worried. There’s sugar in it,” he teased.
* * *
AMANDA AND TAG wandered off to play a game of pool, and Bering and Emily were soon completely oblivious to the blatant speculation of the other patrons, or to anything else going on around them, for that matter.
“I hope you haven’t eaten, because I ordered dinner and I went ahead and ordered something for you, too. I would have asked but I didn’t think you were here yet.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s nice. No, I haven’t eaten, and I am hungry. We were really busy today, what with the response to that letter in the paper.”
“I think you might work too hard.”
“That’s impossible,” she countered. “There’s no such thing as working too hard—there’s only working inefficiently.”
“But what do you do for fun?”
“Work is fun to me.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, work is fun to me, too—mostly. But life is full of other fun things—more important things—obviously, than work. I like to fish, believe it or not, in my spare time, even though I do that for work, too. I snowshoe, cross-country ski in the winter. I like kayaking and hiking and backpacking in the summer. I like to read. I spend as much time as I can with my family. My nephews mean the world to me and just spending time with them makes me happy.” He gestured at her as if she should continue the thread of conversation.
Emily felt cornered. When she wasn’t working, she was thinking about work or reading about work—mining, drilling, fracking techniques... That was who she was, so why she was suddenly embarrassed by this lack of depth, she wasn’t sure. Probably because Bering’s life seemed so much more multifaceted than hers, more interesting, and the idea of having a relationship with her family like he so obviously had with his made her heart twist in an uncomfortable way. She opted for a subject change.
“Hmm, I’m trying to picture what this place looks like in the summer. I’m imagining it is probably somewhat more palatable?”
His searching look had her suspecting that he’d picked up on her tactic. She was grateful when he let it go. He leaned back and proceeded to tell her how beautiful Rankins was in the summer. How enduring the cold winter was all worthwh
ile if you could just experience one warm and wild Alaskan summer. Much like the bears, he explained, Alaskans needed the slower pace of winter to recover from the indulgences of the summer. Even Mother Nature cooperated, he pointed out, by giving them so many daylight hours in the summer to enjoy her bounty.
Emily snorted inelegantly and opened her mouth to voice her doubts, but the waitress showed up with a steaming tray held high above her head. She lowered it, and as heavenly odors besieged Emily’s senses, she realized she was absolutely famished. But as she examined the meal set in front of her, she felt her heart sink.
Emily politely waited until the waitress was well away before scowling down at the heaping plate. She leaned over and sniffed. Then she glared up at him. “What is this?” she hissed. “I may not eat fish, Bering, but I certainly know it when I see it.”
“That is halibut.”
“You say that like that makes it okay. But a fish by any other name is still a fish.”
He grinned. “I know, I know, I remember that you don’t like seafood. But it’s been my experience that most people who say they don’t like fish have never had halibut. I just want you to try it, and if you don’t like it, then I’ll order you something else. Anything you want. The house sirloin is great. We’ll have that next time—with the grilled prawns.”
She tapped her fingertips on the table and eyed the plate warily. She nibbled on her lower lip. Her stomach was rumbling now and it smelled so good that her mouth had begun to water. She hadn’t actually tasted fish since she’d been a small girl, so she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try it. The potatoes looked delicious, and so did the soft fluffy bun next to it—thankfully, there didn’t appear to be any nuts or seeds in it. There was also a pile of roasted vegetables she was pretty sure she could stomach. That was more than enough there to fill her up right....
“Emily, it’s not going to hurt you. I promise.”
“I know that,” she said stiffly and picked up her fork. She cut off a generous bite, shoveled it onto her fork, lifted it toward her mouth and then abruptly stopped. She curled her lips inward and studied the morsel on the end of her fork. She waffled for a split second until she noticed the look of challenge on Bering’s face.
