Found: His Perfect Wife

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Turning, she linked her arm through Luc’s and began to lead the way back to his Jeep. “I know this really great place where they make wonderful salads.”

  He liked it when she smiled. Everything seemed to light up around her. Picking up his pole, he let himself be led. “Really? Tell me more.”

  She looked a little wide-eyed, he thought, watching her face as they approached the Inuit village. It wasn’t hard to guess what was on her mind. People came with preconceived ideas, born of ancient documentaries and old National Geographic photographs.

  “Not what you expected, is it?”

  “No,” she confessed. She banked down her embarrassment. There was only a little, anyway. Luc seemed to understand her mistakes. It made them easier to bear. “I’m not sure what I expected.”

  Maybe she didn’t, but he knew. “Probably igloos and other stereotypical trimmings.” What there was in place of that was a collection of single-and two-story houses, little more than upgraded shacks. Some even lacked electricity and running water, although things were being done to remedy that. “Don’t feel bad. Most people don’t take the trouble to learn that the Inuits have moved into the present century. Ike’s mother was half-Inuit.” And he’d gotten his first education about the proud people and their traditions from his aunt.

  Getting out of his Jeep, Alison reached into the back seat for the medical bag Shayne had lent her. “I’m still having trouble wrapping my tongue around that term. Why aren’t they Eskimos anymore?”

  He resisted the temptation of putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the village. “That was the Native American’s name for them. It means Eater-of-fish.” His mouth curved. “Would you want to be known as that if you had a choice?”

  “I see your point.” She shifted the bag from one hand to the other. It was heavier than she thought. “It’s very nice of you to bring me here.”

  “The kids need these inoculations, and getting them to come into town wasn’t an option.” It was hard enough getting everyone to agree to their coming into the village. “When Paddy broke his leg, I knew Shayne was going to have to postpone coming out here, so I volunteered to bring you. No big deal. I like coming out here. It’s peaceful.”

  She looked around. “It is that.” Luc reached for the bag she was struggling with. Instinct had her closing her hand tighter around the handle. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” She thought of Paddy, in pain and biting his tongue not to say choice words around her when they brought him in. “Do the miners have a lot of accidents?”

  “Enough to keep Shayne busy.” They were on the outskirts of the village now. “C’mon, I’ll help you gather the kids together—or do you have something against that, too?”

  “No.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. It’s just important to me to be independent, that’s all.”

  “Accepting help once in a while doesn’t make a person dependent, it makes them smart.”

  She bit back a retort. Alison knew he was right. “Okay, here.” She thrust the bag toward him.

  He merely grinned.

  They went from house to house. For the most part, they were admitted warmly, if somewhat shyly. The latter, she realized, had to do with her. But since she was with Luc, the residents of the village allowed her to come into their homes.

  Inside, she was amazed to see how very like any other home these homes were. She was even more amazed how highly regarded Luc was among these people. The children flocked to him.

  She learned on the way over that there’d been an outbreak of measles just before she’d arrived in Hades. Shayne had used that to finally convince the elders to allow their children to be inoculated. After much hemming and hawing, a date had been set aside. Paddy’s broken leg had proven unfortunate for more than Paddy until Luc had volunteered to bring her to the village.

  Initially Luc served as an interpreter and go-between, but pretty soon Alison became comfortable with the situation. He had to admire the way she dealt with the children, even the ones who didn’t understand her because their parents had insisted that they speak only the “old language.” While they couldn’t understand the words, the children could understand the look in her eyes. There wasn’t even a need for him to translate.

  The language sounded incongruous, coming from his lips. The first time he spoke it, Alison paused, looking at him with amazement. It was hard associating him with the man who had lost his memory only weeks earlier. “You speak the language?”

  “I grew up here, remember?” He picked up the little boy and said a few words to chase away the fear he saw in the dark eyes before setting him down again.

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’d know the language. A lot of people don’t take the trouble to learn the language of the people around them if their parents don’t.”

  His mother was Swedish, his father French, his aunt half-Inuit and one of his closest friends at the time spoke fluent Russian. There had been a mixture of foreign languages floating in and out of his house while he was growing up.

  He shrugged. “Never gave it much thought. The best guy on our baseball team when Ike, Shayne and I were growing up was Noe, an Eskimo. They were called Eskimos back then,” he added with an amused smile. His hands on the boy’s shoulders to offer silent support, he watched as Alison quickly inoculated the child. The boy’s younger sister watched, her eyes as huge as saucers. “You’re pretty handy with that.”

  “I don’t see the need to add pain to their fears.” She prepared another syringe.

  “Your turn, little one,” he murmured in Inuit. The little girl shut her eyes and turned her face into his leg, holding on tight.

  Alison moved as quickly as she was able. “There, done.”

  That was the last of them, he thought as she gathered her things together. This was the last house. “Well, Clara Barton, I think you can go home now. Your work here is done.”

  She closed the medical bag, offering a smile to the children’s mother. Feeling inept that she couldn’t say anything to the woman that she would understand. “Tell her—”

  “To watch for any signs of fever, yes, I know.” He had repeated it, or heard her say it, to every parent.

  She waited until they were outside the house before asking, “Clara Barton?”

  He took the case from her, but thought better of offering her his arm. He noticed that several of the children who’d been inoculated either came out or were at their windows, watching them leave the village. “The nurse who founded the American Red Cross.”

  “I know who she is. I just didn’t—” She was doing it again, she thought. Alison bit her lip, hoping he took no offense. It was just that she didn’t expect someone who lived out here to be well-read. “Sorry.”

  He took no offense. “You’ve got to get over the notion that just because the sun does strange things up in this part of the world that it fries our brains, as well. Have you taken a look at Shayne’s library?” Opening the Jeep door, he placed the bag in the back.

  Alison climbed in on her side. “Yes, but he’s a doctor, and well…”

  Luc got in behind the wheel and waited until she buckled up before starting the vehicle. “Not only doctors read. Sometimes saloon owners, slash, general store owners, slash, businessmen read, too.”

  “I’m sorry, slash, really.” She grinned, shaking her head at her own actions. “What is it about you that has me tripping over my tongue?”

  He glanced at her before turning the Jeep toward Hades. “The feeling’s mutual, Alison. The feeling surely is mutual.”

  “Wait, there’s something I want you to have. I mean, it’s something you’re going to need if we’re to do this right.”

  Alison turned around, curious. About to walk into Shayne’s house after Luc had brought her home, she’d already said goodbye to him.

  There was a wedding band in the palm of his hand, its Florentine workmanship long since rubbed away by time and wear, but she could still s
ee traces of it where the light hit it.

  For a second, her heart came to a complete stop. Alison raised her eyes to his.

  “It was my mother’s. And her mother’s before that.” Holding it out to her had suddenly made him feel tongue-tied, awkward. He’d kept it in his pocket all afternoon, just the way he had when he’d intended to give it to Janice. He had no idea why he’d held back now. It wasn’t as if giving her the ring actually meant anything. “My father slipped it on her hand and said the words that bound him to her forever.”

  “Your father was a minister?”

  He grinned. “No. But it was the middle of winter and the town was snowed in. There was no way to get to a minister and my father didn’t think he could hold out any longer. But he didn’t want my mother to feel as if they were living in sin, either, so they married each other. You can do that in extreme cases,” he told her when she lifted a skeptical brow. “It’s in the Bible somewhere.” He looked at the ring. “She wore this till the day she died. I figured you might need it to pull off the charade.”

  He noticed that Alison’s hand trembled as she held it out to him. He slipped the ring on slowly, his eyes on hers. “There, I now pronounce us make-believe husband and wife.”

  Alison stared at the ring, remembering other words, vows that turned out to be just as hollow, just as make-believe. “I’ll see if I can get used to it by Monday,” she mumbled, darting inside.

  Luc stood looking at the shut door for a long moment before he finally turned and walked back to his vehicle. He had no idea what to make of the look he’d seen in her eyes.

  “So, are you nervous?” Alison whispered the question to Luc as they stood before his house, waiting for his friends to join them.

  She’d taken her first tour of his home yesterday after leaving the clinic, trying to orient herself so that she knew where everything was. As far as houses went, it wasn’t a very large one, but then she’d come to see that Luc required very little and this suited his needs just fine. Standing on a plot of land his father had left him, not far from the general store, it was a single story, with a wide, friendly kitchen and two bedrooms.

  That was the hurdle that was making her nervous, though she tried not to show it.

  He kept his eyes on the approaching couple.

  “Nothing to be nervous about. He’s an old friend. So is she.”

  Understatements, huge understatements, he thought. Jacob wasn’t just an old friend, he was a friend he had lied to. And Janice had never been a friend, she had been an obsession, a feast for a fantasy, and he had loved her as much as a man could. Blindly.

  And now they both were walking toward him, arm in arm. Was he ready to live out his lie?

  Chapter Twelve

  Alison sat across the table from Janice, pretending to eat, trying to keep her thoughts from registering on her face.

  She’d taken an instant dislike to Janice.

  Admittedly, it wasn’t very fair of her. Under ordinary circumstances, she wasn’t the type to make snap judgments. But over the last three weeks, busy though she’d been, the bond that had formed between her and Luc in the alley in Seattle had strengthened. She’d gotten to genuinely like Luc. And to respect him for what he was and what he was trying to do within the community.

  There was no doubt that he was a selfless man rather than a selfish one. It was a rare quality in a person. She didn’t like seeing that kind of person hurt.

  Ike had told her in passing that it was precisely that rare quality that had pushed Janice away from Luc and into the arms of another man. A man who wanted to do great things and make huge piles of money while he was at it. A man who was going places while Luc was content to remain at home.

  Her eyes slanted toward Jacob, before looking back at her plate. Sensing that he was looking her way, she forced herself to smile.

  She couldn’t fault Jacob for a trait that was alive and well within the older of her two older brothers. There was nothing wrong with drive and ambition; she’d always admired it herself. But what she could fault Jacob for was hurting Luc.

  Funny how protective she’d gotten of a man who looked as if protecting was the last thing in the world he needed.

  But then, she wasn’t alone in that feeling. Otherwise, why would the people in the town have all conspired to play along with this charade? It was to help someone they liked save face. The very fact was a credit to the kind of man Luc was.

  Picking up her glass of wine, wine that Jacob and Janice had brought with them as a gift from Los Angeles, Alison took a sip and dwelled on what the towns-people were doing for Luc.

  A person could do a lot worse than live in a place like this. She was beginning to see why Luc had such an affinity for Hades.

  The tension of maintaining the pretense while appearing at ease danced over her. It had been far from a walk in the park. She was feeling her way around blindly, trying to remember to answer to “Suzanne” and to keep all the details she and Luc had created straight in her mind.

  This last hour she’d done her best to act the genial hostess, a role that ill suited her, given how poorly she knew her way around a kitchen. Whatever success she’d had she attributed to pretending to be Lily, with a pinch or two of Sydney thrown in. Lily was never at a loss when it came to throwing a party, no matter how large or small. She would have found a way to materialize candles and tablecloths for everyone to go along with the five fishes and two loaves of bread that had fed the masses during the Sermon on the Mount. Sydney would have provided the homey warmth.

  But warmth was a difficult thing to force whenever she looked at Janice. The woman was striking, no doubt about it. She was a willowy blonde with a killer figure, long, straight hair and eyes the color of a blue jay’s wings spread in flight.

  And she had broken Luc’s heart.

  Still listening to the three other people at the table relive past episodes, Alison excused herself and began gathering the plates, all empty save hers.

  She caught the pointed look Jacob gave his wife. Caught, too, that Janice looked away.

  “Need help?” Jacob finally asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m just putting them in the sink for now.”

  Luc picked up the plates on his side of the table and brought them in for her. Though he seemed to be enjoying the company of his friends and catching up with them, he looked slightly preoccupied. It was probably because the pretense was weighing heavily on his mind.

  He made her think of someone who would have pledged his honor to Arthur at the Round Table.

  “The prime rib was excellent,” Jacob enthused as they all retired from the table and took the five short steps into the rustic-looking living room. “I’ve eaten in some of the finest restaurants in this country and I can honestly say I’ve never had any better.”

  For a second she grappled with accepting the compliment, but they were dealing with enough fabrication already. She didn’t want to compound it even more. Not that there was the danger of Janice asking her for the recipe. The woman looked even less inclined to find her way around a kitchen than she was.

  “Then the compliment should go to Luc,” Alison told him. She deliberately wove her arm through Luc’s, getting a kick out of the mild surprise that rose in his eyes. “Luc made the meal. I was just the kitchen help.”

  “Why is it we can’t find help like that, Janice?” Jacob joked. Taking a seat on the sofa, he moved to one side, making room for his wife.

  She chose to sit down on the love seat instead. She also chose to ignore the good-humored question. Janice watched as the other couple sat down beside Jacob. With exaggerated movements, she laced and folded her hands together, her attention on Alison.

  “So you’re a nurse?” Janice asked. Alison nodded, but before she could say anything, Janice’s eyes had shifted to Luc. “You never mentioned Suzanne was a nurse.”

  He found it difficult to think of the woman beside him as anything else than Alison. Not after he’d just spent the last thr
ee weeks referring to her by that name.

  Thinking of her by that name.

  “The subject never came up,” Jacob told his wife, coming to his friend’s rescue.

  Making himself comfortable by loosening his belt, he raised the glass he’d brought over with him from the dining room, in a toast to Luc. Alison saw the look of barely veiled annoyance pass over Janice’s face. She didn’t know if it was because of the toast Jacob was about to propose, or the belt he had unnotched. Probably both.

  “Looks like you’ve done really well for yourself.” His eyes swept over Alison. “Luc doesn’t talk a lot, so I had to pump Shayne for information on the way over here.” Jacob looked at his old friend. “Shayne said you own the general store now and are thinking of going in on the theater.”

  Luc shrugged vaguely. He didn’t care for discussing business matters, especially when things weren’t solidified. “Thought it might not be a bad idea. Wayne’s strapped for cash.”

  Jacob laughed, taking another sip. “Wayne Hardgrove.” He shook his head, remembering things as they had once been. “Never thought he’d stick around. Now you, you I knew always would.” It somehow figured that Luc would come to the other man’s rescue, whether financial or otherwise. That was the kind of person he was. “Your husband’s the stablest man I ever met,” he confided to Alison. “He likes something, he sticks by it come hell or high water.”

  If it seemed like praise to Jacob when he said it, it wasn’t to his wife. Janice toyed with her glass. The contents didn’t hold her attention the way Luc could. She began to think of opportunities lost and the road not taken. Why was it that the other side of the fence always seemed so much more tempting?

  “Don’t you sometimes regret staying here?” she prodded, leaning forward over the massive coffee table.

  It sounded to Alison like the tail end of an ongoing debate they’d carried on not all that long ago. “Why should he regret it?” she interjected. “He’s got good friends and the good feeling of building up a place he’s always loved. All the big cities of the world were once nothing more than a collection of a few houses.”