Alaskan Holiday
Page 17
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I wanted to continue defending myself further, but Palmer knew the most effective way to cut me off was to gather me in his arms and kiss me one last time. And, oh, what a kiss it was. He made sure with one single intense meeting of our lips that I would never forget him.
* * *
—
The following morning, I secured the lodge, with the promise to the Brewsters to drop the key in the mail to them upon my return to Seattle. I was down on the dock when the ski-plane landed. Once the engine was cut, the plane coasted on the ice toward me. Sawyer climbed out and tied the plane to the dock because of a mild breeze.
“You must be Josie,” he said.
“That’s me.”
“You ready to go?”
That might well have been the most important question asked of me in my entire life. I couldn’t respond verbally, so I nodded. I handed him my gear, and Sawyer O’Halloran loaded it into the back of the plane, offering me his hand to help me aboard.
Once inside the Cessna, I strapped myself in and looked out the window at Ponder, tears making wet tracks down my cheeks as the engine roared to life. Within a matter of minutes, we were in the air, circling over the lake.
As I looked at the beautiful town in the early sunlight one last time, I saw a lone figure down below. His face was raised to the sky as we flew into the distance.
Even if I hadn’t recognized his coat and Hobo at his side, I would have known who it was.
CHAPTER 9
Palmer
It seemed like forever since Josie flew out of Ponder. In the beginning we talked nearly every day. Long conversations that sometimes lasted up to two hours. I never knew that two people could have so much to talk about, but we did. We shared experiences from our childhoods, and we talked about our hopes for the future, our dreams and goals. Josie kept her promise and didn’t mention Chef Anton, and I was grateful.
I had revamped my design for the sword and it was coming along well. I was proud of the work I’d done. Although Josie understood little of my profession, she listened intently as I explained each step of the process and was genuinely interested in what I did. She told me about the menu she’d helped to create, and how well the restaurant opening had gone. There’d been several bumps that needed to be smoothed out with the kitchen and serving staff the first few days. From the sounds of it, she’d handled all the necessary “fixes” professionally without ruffling egos, which is hard to do in that line of work, she said.
As time went on, I could tell she was exhausted, and her calls came later and later in the night. Although I didn’t ask, I couldn’t help but wonder exactly what the high-and-mighty Chef Anton contributed to the running of the business. From everything Josie said, she bore the brunt of the responsibility and the burden. Admittedly, my knowledge of the restaurant world was completely nil. For all I knew, the chef could be working his fingers to the bone right alongside her.
It was Thanksgiving Day, and Josie had been scheduled to spend the entire day at the restaurant, as it was known to be one of the busiest days in the industry. Missing her the way I did, I had thought about flying into Seattle and surprising her. I decided against it because she was working sixty hours a week or longer and I knew we would have little time together. In fact, we hadn’t talked by phone in two days. Quick, short text messages from her still came, but the calls stopped.
Early that morning, I sat at the table in my sister’s kitchen, staring at my phone. A brief message popped up from Josie, which shocked me. It was still early in Seattle. Seven in the morning, and she was already at work. The last message I’d gotten from her was just after she left the restaurant at midnight, her time, which meant she had had only a few hours’ sleep.
Miss you.
Miss you back.
It’s going to be hectic today. I’ll call you once I’m home.
I stared at the text, unsure how to respond. She worked so hard, and for what? She’d repeatedly told me she loved what she did. That was all well and good, but these long hours? They had to be killing her.
When’s your next day off?
Unsure. Can’t talk now. Sorry. Love you.
Exhaling sharply, I flipped my phone upside down on the table, frustrated.
My sister joined me in the kitchen. “You’re looking thoughtful for this early in the morning,” Alicia said. She had a robe over her pajamas and wore a ridiculous pair of bunny-rabbit slippers.
I’d flown into Fairbanks the day before, looking for an escape from the doldrums that had plagued me since Josie’s departure. Sawyer mentioned that he had to make a trip into Fairbanks to pick up an airplane part and offered to stop for me on the way through. The timing was perfect, and I eagerly joined him, anxious for the distraction.
“It’s Thanksgiving, Brother—a day to count our blessings, not our misgivings.”
“I know what day it is.” But Alicia was right. I should be thinking positive thoughts instead of filling my head with concerns about Josie.
My sister rolled up the sleeves of her robe and opened the refrigerator to retrieve the twenty-pound turkey, setting it inside the kitchen sink. I would have asked if she needed help, but she had it handled.
“You should have let me do that,” I mildly chastised her.
“I’m not a weakling, you know.”
No one would accuse my sister of that. She was a veteran police officer and was fully capable of taking down a man twice her size.
“How long has it been now?” she asked.
I knew what she was asking but played dumb. “Since when?”
With her hand braced against her hip, my sister turned to face me, her look intense, letting me know she wasn’t fooled. “How long has it been since you saw Josie last?”
“Josie who?” I asked, teasing her. Without success, I tried to hold back a smile. The corners of my mouth trembled and were a dead giveaway.
Alicia burst out laughing. “She’s got you tied up in knots, doesn’t she? Don’t try and deny it. She’s on your mind night and day, and, little brother, you don’t need to tell me you’re missing her. I don’t know why you’re sitting here like a bump on a log when you’re clearly wishing you were with Josie.”
I could deny it, but it wouldn’t do any good. Thankfully, I was saved from answering when Drew, Alicia’s husband, entered the kitchen, still dressed in his pajamas. Barefoot, he walked over to the coffee machine.
“Morning,” he said, yawning as he opened the cupboard and reached for a large mug. He set it on the counter, wrapped his arms around my sister’s middle, and kissed her neck.
“Drew,” she protested, “I’m getting the bird ready to put in the oven.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he teased, as he continued to nuzzle Alicia’s neck.
I noticed how my sister tilted her head to the side and sighed as her husband hugged and loved on her.
I had to look away, but not because their open display of love and affection embarrassed me. Watching them together made me yearn for Josie even more. I would have welcomed the opportunity to love on Josie in the mornings the same way Drew did my sister.
Breaking away from Alicia, Drew poured a cup of coffee and joined me at the table while my sister remained busy prepping the turkey and getting it ready for the oven.
“Before you came into the kitchen, I was asking Palmer about Josie,” Alicia said, picking up the conversation that I was trying not to have.
“Josie’s in Seattle. She loves her job and she’s happy there.”
“You sure about that?” Drew asked, taking a drink of his coffee.
“Yes.” She’d said as much any number of times, despite the stress of the job. I stopped questioning the long hours or extra responsibilities, because every time I did, she went into a detailed explanation about what was expected of her.
“What have you done lately to let her know you love her?” my sister asked.
“Huh?” Josie knew how I felt. I told her every chance I could.
“You heard me,” Alicia insisted. “Sure, you text her and you chat now and again.”
Drew leaned back in his chair, taking in the whole conversation while continuing to drink his coffee. “Trouble is, living the way we do in Alaska, men seem to lose a few of the finer social niceties that women are accustomed to. Women want us to give them exotic flowers and French chocolates and say all those sweet words they read in those romance books. They need to hear that we couldn’t possibly live without them, and a bunch of stuff like that.”
* * *
—
The following morning, I secured the lodge, with the promise to the Brewsters to drop the key in the mail to them upon my return to Seattle. I was down on the dock when the ski-plane landed. Once the engine was cut, the plane coasted on the ice toward me. Sawyer climbed out and tied the plane to the dock because of a mild breeze.
“You must be Josie,” he said.
“That’s me.”
“You ready to go?”
That might well have been the most important question asked of me in my entire life. I couldn’t respond verbally, so I nodded. I handed him my gear, and Sawyer O’Halloran loaded it into the back of the plane, offering me his hand to help me aboard.
Once inside the Cessna, I strapped myself in and looked out the window at Ponder, tears making wet tracks down my cheeks as the engine roared to life. Within a matter of minutes, we were in the air, circling over the lake.
As I looked at the beautiful town in the early sunlight one last time, I saw a lone figure down below. His face was raised to the sky as we flew into the distance.
Even if I hadn’t recognized his coat and Hobo at his side, I would have known who it was.
CHAPTER 9
Palmer
It seemed like forever since Josie flew out of Ponder. In the beginning we talked nearly every day. Long conversations that sometimes lasted up to two hours. I never knew that two people could have so much to talk about, but we did. We shared experiences from our childhoods, and we talked about our hopes for the future, our dreams and goals. Josie kept her promise and didn’t mention Chef Anton, and I was grateful.
I had revamped my design for the sword and it was coming along well. I was proud of the work I’d done. Although Josie understood little of my profession, she listened intently as I explained each step of the process and was genuinely interested in what I did. She told me about the menu she’d helped to create, and how well the restaurant opening had gone. There’d been several bumps that needed to be smoothed out with the kitchen and serving staff the first few days. From the sounds of it, she’d handled all the necessary “fixes” professionally without ruffling egos, which is hard to do in that line of work, she said.
As time went on, I could tell she was exhausted, and her calls came later and later in the night. Although I didn’t ask, I couldn’t help but wonder exactly what the high-and-mighty Chef Anton contributed to the running of the business. From everything Josie said, she bore the brunt of the responsibility and the burden. Admittedly, my knowledge of the restaurant world was completely nil. For all I knew, the chef could be working his fingers to the bone right alongside her.
It was Thanksgiving Day, and Josie had been scheduled to spend the entire day at the restaurant, as it was known to be one of the busiest days in the industry. Missing her the way I did, I had thought about flying into Seattle and surprising her. I decided against it because she was working sixty hours a week or longer and I knew we would have little time together. In fact, we hadn’t talked by phone in two days. Quick, short text messages from her still came, but the calls stopped.
Early that morning, I sat at the table in my sister’s kitchen, staring at my phone. A brief message popped up from Josie, which shocked me. It was still early in Seattle. Seven in the morning, and she was already at work. The last message I’d gotten from her was just after she left the restaurant at midnight, her time, which meant she had had only a few hours’ sleep.
Miss you.
Miss you back.
It’s going to be hectic today. I’ll call you once I’m home.
I stared at the text, unsure how to respond. She worked so hard, and for what? She’d repeatedly told me she loved what she did. That was all well and good, but these long hours? They had to be killing her.
When’s your next day off?
Unsure. Can’t talk now. Sorry. Love you.
Exhaling sharply, I flipped my phone upside down on the table, frustrated.
My sister joined me in the kitchen. “You’re looking thoughtful for this early in the morning,” Alicia said. She had a robe over her pajamas and wore a ridiculous pair of bunny-rabbit slippers.
I’d flown into Fairbanks the day before, looking for an escape from the doldrums that had plagued me since Josie’s departure. Sawyer mentioned that he had to make a trip into Fairbanks to pick up an airplane part and offered to stop for me on the way through. The timing was perfect, and I eagerly joined him, anxious for the distraction.
“It’s Thanksgiving, Brother—a day to count our blessings, not our misgivings.”
“I know what day it is.” But Alicia was right. I should be thinking positive thoughts instead of filling my head with concerns about Josie.
My sister rolled up the sleeves of her robe and opened the refrigerator to retrieve the twenty-pound turkey, setting it inside the kitchen sink. I would have asked if she needed help, but she had it handled.
“You should have let me do that,” I mildly chastised her.
“I’m not a weakling, you know.”
No one would accuse my sister of that. She was a veteran police officer and was fully capable of taking down a man twice her size.
“How long has it been now?” she asked.
I knew what she was asking but played dumb. “Since when?”
With her hand braced against her hip, my sister turned to face me, her look intense, letting me know she wasn’t fooled. “How long has it been since you saw Josie last?”
“Josie who?” I asked, teasing her. Without success, I tried to hold back a smile. The corners of my mouth trembled and were a dead giveaway.
Alicia burst out laughing. “She’s got you tied up in knots, doesn’t she? Don’t try and deny it. She’s on your mind night and day, and, little brother, you don’t need to tell me you’re missing her. I don’t know why you’re sitting here like a bump on a log when you’re clearly wishing you were with Josie.”
I could deny it, but it wouldn’t do any good. Thankfully, I was saved from answering when Drew, Alicia’s husband, entered the kitchen, still dressed in his pajamas. Barefoot, he walked over to the coffee machine.
“Morning,” he said, yawning as he opened the cupboard and reached for a large mug. He set it on the counter, wrapped his arms around my sister’s middle, and kissed her neck.
“Drew,” she protested, “I’m getting the bird ready to put in the oven.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he teased, as he continued to nuzzle Alicia’s neck.
I noticed how my sister tilted her head to the side and sighed as her husband hugged and loved on her.
I had to look away, but not because their open display of love and affection embarrassed me. Watching them together made me yearn for Josie even more. I would have welcomed the opportunity to love on Josie in the mornings the same way Drew did my sister.
Breaking away from Alicia, Drew poured a cup of coffee and joined me at the table while my sister remained busy prepping the turkey and getting it ready for the oven.
“Before you came into the kitchen, I was asking Palmer about Josie,” Alicia said, picking up the conversation that I was trying not to have.
“Josie’s in Seattle. She loves her job and she’s happy there.”
“You sure about that?” Drew asked, taking a drink of his coffee.
“Yes.” She’d said as much any number of times, despite the stress of the job. I stopped questioning the long hours or extra responsibilities, because every time I did, she went into a detailed explanation about what was expected of her.
“What have you done lately to let her know you love her?” my sister asked.
“Huh?” Josie knew how I felt. I told her every chance I could.
“You heard me,” Alicia insisted. “Sure, you text her and you chat now and again.”
Drew leaned back in his chair, taking in the whole conversation while continuing to drink his coffee. “Trouble is, living the way we do in Alaska, men seem to lose a few of the finer social niceties that women are accustomed to. Women want us to give them exotic flowers and French chocolates and say all those sweet words they read in those romance books. They need to hear that we couldn’t possibly live without them, and a bunch of stuff like that.”
