by Jamie Carie
“Why her? Why spend all this money for a day with one of my girls? Are you trying to make some kind of point?”
I turned, wanting to slink away and disappear. These two had something to work out between them, and I knew better than to be in the middle of it.
“Kate. I realize you think you can’t trust me, but I had my reasons, and a deal is a deal.” He leaned across the table and touched her cheek.
A look flashed across her eyes I’d never seen before. Kate was always so dispassionate, so in control, but in that moment I saw hurt and longing and love.
Kate loved this man.
“I can’t do it.” The words I’d been holding in all night tumbled out.
Kate swung toward me with raised brows and compressed lips. “Of course you can. We made an agreement, and you will stick by it. The hospital, remember?”
I turned toward Lucky who shrugged at me in understanding.
“Now.” Kate clapped her hands together to gain both our attention. “Jewel will leave with you tonight, but you listen to me and listen good. She is to be treated like a lady the entire time.” She eyed Lucky and smacked her palm down on the table. “I’d ask for your word on that, but we both know how well you keep promises. Just know, if she comes back damaged goods, I’ll hunt you down myself, and what I have imagined doing to you this last year—”
The man’s jaw clenched, and I got the distinct impression Kate was getting through his glib exterior. “I’m flattered, Kate. I didn’t know you still cared so much.”
Kate reddened and sputtered as it finally dawned on me who this man was. Lucky was her long-lost fiancé. So, what in heaven’s name did he want with me?
“Go!” She pointed her finger toward the door. “Just go.”
Minutes later and garbed in my winter gear, I followed Lucky’s long stride through the front door. The cold reminded me of the stark realities of this place, how precarious life was, how I didn’t know what was to happen next. It was as if I was stepping into the great unknown, a frozen future that held the possibilities of a dream city.
Lucky stopped at the edge of the raised walkway and flung out an arm. “Your chariot awaits, ma’am.”
I stared at the conveyance and gasped. It was a pretty, little, white-painted wooden sleigh with gleaming steel runners, hitched to a beautiful team of huskies. I looked up into his dark, laughing eyes. “Where are we going?”
“That, my dear, is a surprise. May I help you in?”
We walked to the edge of the sleigh where I accepted Lucky’s offered hand and climbed inside, settling onto a deep, cushioned bench lined with fur robes. Lucky took another fur robe and, to my further astonishment, tucked it over and around my shoulders, covering me in its silky depths. “Warm enough?”
I nodded, a little laugh escaping me. This man was the epitome of surprise.
Lucky climbed in beside me and grasped the reins. He took a moment to light a cigar, clamped it between his teeth, and grinned around it. “Hold on tight; we have time to make.”
His deep chuckle and the smell of the cigar drifted over to me as he commanded the dogs and started us with a jolt. The buildings flashed by as we fairly flew down the street.
The snow was hard packed and glistening in the moonlight. We were soon out of town and following a trail that ran along the river. My breath came in excited puffs around my face, but I wasn’t cold. I was never so warm and trembling with excitement.
“You and Kate know each other well?” I glanced over to him.
He looked at me, black brows furrowed together, and then directed his attention back to the dogs. “You could say that.”
“She still loves you, you know. I saw it in her eyes.” I was taking the risk of angering him in saying that, but I had to know what had gone wrong.
“Hate is more likely the word you’re looking for. That’s what I saw in her eyes.”
“Haven’t you ever heard that there is a fine line between love and hate? And anyway, think how this looks. Bidding on me for a wife? It must be tearing her apart. Why did you do it?”
“Do what? Bid on you? Or run out and leave her at the altar?” His voice was filled with self-loathing.
“Both, I guess.”
“You’ll find out soon enough why I won you. The other? I just couldn’t go through with it.”
I paused, the anxiety of his answer about winning me scattered my thoughts like buckshot through my mind. I took a determined breath. “Didn’t you love her? Didn’t you want to make her your wife?”
The moon cast a silver glow against his profile. His jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed. “I loved her, still do. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of her and miss her. But the good Lord knows what I think of marriage.”
“What do you think of marriage?” I pulled the fur closer around my neck where the wind was whistling in.
“I think it’s a waste of paper. It doesn’t mean anything. People do what they want to do with or without it.”
“Why do you think that?”
Lucky’s gaze slid to mine as he let out a bark of laughter. “You some kind of head doctor?”
“No, I just . . . well, I think I might be able to understand. My family was . . . broken.”
He chewed on the cigar stub a bit. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never told anyone, but my father, he wasn’t much of a husband and broke my mother’s heart over and over with other women.”
“Were you afraid Kate would do that to you?”
“Maybe. Or I’d do it to her. There’s a thousand ways to back out of those marriage vows. In good times and bad, in sickness and health—”
“I know.” I gripped my hands together under the warm fur. “My mother was sick. Not physically all of the time, but”—I patted my chest—“in here. My father didn’t know what to do with her, I guess. He left us when I was a young child. I took care of her and my brother.” I touched Lucky’s taut arm wielding the reins. “Everyone fails at some time or another, but I still hope to get married someday.”
Lucky turned to me, the reins going slack in his hands, the dogs running as if they loved it, as if they could run so swift and sure all night, all on their own. “How can you? Aren’t you afraid the man you marry will leave you like your father did?”
“Yes, I’m afraid. But I’m more afraid of living without him. I have to give him a chance. I have to give us a chance. I might fail him too. I think I will in little everyday ways, but I will open my heart to him as if I had the perfect childhood. That’s a choice, you know. Everyone deserves a chance, don’t you think?” I closed my eyes and saw the him in my statements. I saw Buck.
Lucky was quiet for a long moment. “You really think she still loves me?”
I laughed and clasped my hands together under the fur. “Oh yes, I am quite sure. She’s still mad at you and scared too, but I think if you go to her and tell her the truth, what you’ve told me . . . she will forgive you.”
Lucky faced forward and flicked the reins to make the dogs go faster. He didn’t say another word.
We raced along through the thick forest, up steep hills, and speeding down shallow valleys to the sound of the jingling bells on the dogs’ harnesses. It was nearing midnight. Almost Christmas day.
All of a sudden a light appeared before us. As we neared it, the light became a window. It was a cabin, all the windows glowing with warm yellow light and smoke coming from the chimney.
“Is that your cabin?” I asked above the wailing wind.
“No, ma’am. It belongs to a friend.”
“A friend?” Should I be afraid?
Lucky just chuckled and hauled back on the reins. The dogs slowed to a gliding stop. “Don’t worry. It’s someone I’ve known for years.”
I stared at the yellow-hewed log cabin in awe. Two stories high and blazing with light that turned the snow around the cabin into a million scattered, sparkling diamonds. A giant spruce wreath with a big red ribbon hung on the front do
or, and the yard had a neat, shoveled path. It was as if a painting had come to life.
Lucky jumped down and came around to my side. He reached for my hand and helped me out of the sleigh. I wanted to ask questions, but I couldn’t seem to speak. I was too busy soaking up the beauty of the scene.
Lucky tucked my arm in his and led me to the front door. It opened before we reached it. A tremor of nervous expectation made my knees wobble as I entered the room where a cheery fire crackled in the hearth. A giant Christmas tree, smelling of fresh-cut pine, glowing with candles and decorated with pinecones and holly garland, stood in one corner of the room.
The door shut behind me and I spun around.
A man stepped forward, coming out of the shadows. My hand rose to my mouth as tears, immediate and drowning my vision, sprang to my eyes. “Buck?”
“I promised we’d be together for Christmas, didn’t I?”
He appeared tired but happy, as if he’d fought a battle and won. I looked from his dear face to Lucky’s grinning one and then back again.
“I told you I’d make it before midnight.” Lucky’s voice broke through the silence.
Buck gave Lucky’s shoulder a solid thump that turned into a sideways hug. “I knew I could count on you. You have my thanks.”
I stood still and trembling—my knees, my stomach, my chin, all trembling. “You planned this? You had Lucky bid for me?”
Buck took the steps that separated us and drew me into his arms. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just leaned his face onto the top of my head and held me tight. His breath moved in and out of my hair. His love wrapped around my body—a warm, tender wave of promises kept.
“But how?” I whispered, looking up into his face.
Buck straightened. His crystal blue eyes stared deep into my brown ones. His thumb came up to caress my cheek. “I knew I couldn’t get to Dawson in time for Christmas so I sent a telegram to my cousin here and asked for a favor.”
“Lucky is your cousin?”
Buck chuckled. “Lucky is Stephen’s nickname since coming to Alaska. After I got married and settled down, he got itchy feet and traveled around the state. Picked up a love for card games and the name. I’d heard he was staying near Fort Reliance, which is only eight miles from Dawson, so I telegrammed the fort and someone got him the message. He telegrammed back about the auction. Said everyone for miles was going to attend. The thought of you being some other man’s wife, even for a day, made me”—he grasped the sides of my face—“feel sick. I was ready to race to Dawson, try to make it in time, but then Lucky had an idea. He knew about this cabin and thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
My gaze shot to Lucky. “You have to tell Kate. What she must be imagining right now.”
Lucky nodded at Buck and placed his hat back on his head. “I see why they call her the Jewel of Dawson. I’ll be heading back to town. I’m thinking I’d like to have a wife for Christmas too.”
“It’s about time.” Buck laughed. “Godspeed, my friend.”
Lucky leaned down, took my hand, and kissed the back of it with elegant flair. He peered up at me over my hand and said in a low voice, “Thank you, ma’am. Your courage has an inspired effect.”
I squeezed his hand tight. “Kate has courage enough for the both of you, I think. Trust her.”
After Lucky left, Buck took me back into his arms. “I love you, Ellen.”
I hadn’t expected to hear it yet. I held on to his shoulders and wanted to say the words back, but first I had to know. “What about your wife? Did you find the man who shot her?” How are you, really? Are you ready to love me with your whole heart?
Buck led me over to the sofa that faced the fire. He sat beside me and took my hands in his strong, warm ones. “I couldn’t find them. I came close many times, but they were never . . . predictable. A few hours ago I got word that two strangers were camping on Moosehide Creek. I stocked up on provisions and readied my dog team. I was going to go, I was determined to go, but I knew if I did I would never make it to this cabin in time. I was standing there with my team all ready at the Y in the road. Losing my wife was the—” He stopped, his throat working with the emotion, tears shining in his eyes.
I squeezed his hand. He leaned forward and placed his head against my head. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. But I couldn’t let you go. I knew if I chose to go after them, I would never have you.” He turned his face into my neck. “I had to let her go.”
“Oh, Buck.” We cried together for Deborah, Kalage, his Little Two-Face. My tears dripped into his hair as we cried for a lost life, a lost wife.
After many moments I pulled back. “You’ll always love her, Buck. It’s okay. You have enough heart, I think, for both of us.”
He stared deep into my eyes, his big, warm, strong hands a butterfly’s touch against my face. “How did I get so blessed to find you?”
“No.” I touched his face as he did mine. “I’m the blessed one. God has given me the desire of my heart—my own story with you. How did I get a second chance at life? How did God lead me to you?”
The clock started to chime the midnight hour. “It’s Christmas,” I said as we pulled back. Candlelight flickered across Buck’s rugged face making me take a sudden breath at the beauty of his damp eyelashes.
Words came to me. “‘For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.’”
A smile lit Buck’s eyes. He began to sing in a soft, rich baritone:
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel!
I joined my voice with his for the second verse of the Christmas song:
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free,
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny,
From depths of Hell Thy people save,
And give them victory o’er the grave.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel!
“Shall come to thee, O Israel.” It was perfect. God had ransomed me from my captivity. I was no longer in lonely exile. He had set my feet upon the firm foundation of His great love and then given me a story of my own.
“I didn’t know you could sing like that.” I touched Buck’s solemn face and felt the day-old whiskers underneath my fingertips, marveling that God knows the number of hairs on our heads. “You have a wonderful voice, Buck.”
“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other, but I think—”
“Yes?” My heart started drumming in my chest.
“I was thinking that—” He paused. He was nervous, after everything we had been through together, he was still unsure. “I won you for a wife for Christmas day, but—” He looked down at our clasped hands. “I was wondering . . .”
“Yes?”
“. . . if you would like to be my wife for the rest of our days.” He looked up from my hand and met my gaze. His eyes, so light blue as to appear glowing, burned with what seemed like hope as he asked the question.
A half laugh/half sob escaped my throat as I pressed my hand against my heart. I’d never thought to have anyone of my own. I’d never thought to be free enough or lucky enough to find love. Yet here it was in the form of a man I hadn’t been able to imagine until I met him. God had known all along His plans for my future. I breathed out that one word with everything in me.
“Yes.”
Buck leaned forward and swept me into his arms.
“I love you, Buck,” I whispered as I tilted my head back to stare into his eyes.
My breath caught as he seemed to study every feature of my face, stopping at my lips. He leaned toward me, and when I thought he would kiss me, he stopped just short and sa
id, “Take a breath, Ellen, before you pass out.”
I bit my bottom lip and smiled up into his eyes, those ice blue crystals that were warm now, that I would get to gaze into for the rest of my days. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
He caressed my cheek with his thumb. “Just taking my time.”
His words sent a warm wave through my body. Of course. We had the rest of our lives together. Then he crushed his lips to mine with gentle demand.
Every icicle around my heart melted into a pool of ecstasy . . . and I floated.
I floated like the snowflake, a delicate, intricate, one-of-a-kind, God-crafted snowflake that never melts, that was made for eternity. Together we were strong and glittering and eternally glorious.
Rejoice! Rejoice, Emmanuel. My heart sang the song.
I was His and his and mine. I was whole.
Floating . . . eternal . . . in an everlasting pool of love.
Dear Reader,
Have you ever considered the snowflake? I have. I have a fascination with them. They say snowflakes are one of a kind, like fingerprints. Can you imagine how many snowflakes are in a handful of snow? A yard full? A city’s worth? And that’s just in one snowfall. What about a winter’s worth of snowflakes across the entire world? What about every snowflake that has or will ever fall? Can you imagine the diversity in each intricate design? The perfectly symmetrical arms that appear like sparkling glass under a microscope? The bends and twists, the nubs and branches on a piece of floating, fluffy frozen water? Only God has that much imagination, that much creativity, that much timeless knowledge and wisdom. Only God could build a snowflake with each one having its own identity.
