Alaskan Holiday
Page 3

I’d been having the same thoughts myself, although I wasn’t going to mention it to Jack, because then the whole town would know.
“Did she give you a reason for turning you down?”
“Actually, she didn’t do a lot of talking after I proposed.” A thoughtful, sad look came over him.
“Oh.”
“I didn’t even mind that she had no experience cooking wild game. Fact is, I was willing to overlook a lot of her faults, and told her so, thinking she’d appreciate my generosity.”
“And how did that go over?”
He stroked his beard once again. “She took offense. Never quite understood why. It wasn’t like she had men pounding down her door. I thought she’d be happy that I was willing to marry her.”
“Was she a good cook?”
“Fair. She didn’t seem to receive that observation of mine very well, either. Women are funny that way. I probably should have exaggerated my appreciation of her skills in the kitchen.”
“Did you tell her you thought she was pretty?”
“Nope. Truth was she wasn’t much to look at. I didn’t mind, though.”
I swallowed a smile. “You didn’t mention that to her, did you?”
“Oh no. Knew better than that. Women need to think they’re the light of a man’s life.”
“What else did you say?” Little did Jack know, I was taking mental notes.
Jack tapped his finger against his lips. “Been twenty years ago now, so I don’t recall the exact words. Never had high expectations, seeing that the ratio of men to women wasn’t in my favor living here in the Alaskan wilderness. I do remember that I told her that she was the best I could do.”
I could only imagine how well that comment had gone over with the poor woman.
Jack shook his head. “Still don’t know why she didn’t accept my proposal.”
“She say anything else?”
Jack snorted. “A big fat NO was all I got. Apparently, I’d read her wrong. I could have sworn she was sweet on me.”
“You propose to anyone else?”
“Nope. Once was enough. A man can only take so much rejection, and I’d had my fill.”
This I could understand. Jack had given up after that single rejection. Frankly, I couldn’t see myself wanting to marry anyone other than Josie. And if Josie ended up turning me down, then I feared I’d be just like Jack years down the road, looking back and wondering where I’d gone wrong.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how important it was to say whatever it was that Josie needed to hear if I was going to convince her to marry me. As sad as it was to admit, I could see myself making a mess of my proposal the same way Jack had done.
Jack sadly shook his head and exhaled slowly. “In the end it was probably for the best that Sally rejected me. Don’t know that I’m the marrying kind. You and me are a lot alike, you know.”
This was not encouraging news.
My eyes drifted down to the list in front of me, and my heart sank. I had the distinct feeling it was going to take a miracle of biblical proportions to get Josie to agree to be my wife.
CHAPTER 2
Josie
The Caribou Lake Lodge was closing for the winter, and after six months in Ponder, I was sorry to leave. It’d been the longest time I’d ever spent away from my mother and the city of Seattle, where I’d been born and raised. The separation hadn’t been easy, but I felt it was time well spent. It’d always been just my mom and me, and being apart had taught me valuable lessons about myself, lessons I hoped to take with me as I headed off to my first real job. As a sous-chef, I’d be working hand in hand with the head chef, creating menu items, plus training new staff, as well as keeping the kitchen organized and flowing. I’d been given the opportunity of a lifetime, working in a newly opened Seattle restaurant with Douglas Anton, a renowned chef. A career break like this didn’t come along every day. For me, it was a dream come true. The culinary school I’d attended had recommended me for the position. Their faith in me was more than I could have dreamed. The only drawback was that I had to wait six months after graduation for the completion of Chef Anton’s newest restaurant, which was why I happened to be in Alaska. This opportunity not only helped me to pass the time, but it also gave me the chance to do what I loved best: create recipes based on locally sourced ingredients.
Now it was the end of October, and time to return home and start my career. In the morning, the Brewsters, the remainder of the staff, and I would catch the last passenger ferry for the long ride down the lake to semi-civilization, before hopping on a small plane to Fairbanks, and from there, on to Seattle.
I was surprised at how well I’d acclimated to Alaska and to the lack of amenities, considering I’d grown up in a city where I’d had everything at my fingertips. Ponder had no shopping mall, theater, or Starbucks. Access to the Internet was only a recent addition in the past few years, and that had been a game-changer for everyone in town.
Alaska was beautiful. One of my favorite things to do was watch the eagles dive for fish in the lake. Jerry Brewster, the lodge owner, entertained me with story after story of the eagles on Caribou Lake. One time he’d hooked a salmon and was reeling it in when an eagle swooped down and grabbed the fish and flew off with it. With the fish still attached to the line, Jerry attempted to reel it in, fighting the eagle for the salmon. While Jerry eventually won the battle, the eagle had left talon marks on the salmon’s flesh.
Being a member of a small community took some getting used to, but I’d managed in short order. Life here was a stark contrast to that in Seattle or any big city. I especially enjoyed the way folks used any excuse they could find for a community gathering. There was the Midnight Sun Festival, which included a midnight baseball game, and yes, it was full sunlight at midnight. The Fourth of July Festival. The Chili Cook-off won by a young mother, Angie Wilkerson. I’d wished there’d been more time to get to know her, as I felt we could have been friends.
The longer I lived at the lodge, the more beauty I discovered each day. I could stare for hours at the night sky. Living in the city, I’d never truly seen stars the way I could in Alaska. I was left awestruck by how many were visible in the totally black sky, like diamond dust scattered across the heavens.
Of course, I’d been here through spring, summer, and early autumn, when the awesome splendor of all that was Alaska was evident every day. I’d been able to observe moose and caribou from afar, and even once saw a bear amble down the middle of town as if it was shopping day. Moments like those made me have no regrets for not having access to a Starbucks or a nail salon for almost six months. I’d more than survived this experience—I’d thrived here in Ponder. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible when I’d arrived. Those first couple weeks in town, all I saw was what the little town didn’t have. It wasn’t long before I began to appreciate the abundance of all that it did have to offer.
And then there was Palmer Saxon. My heart grew heavy at the thought of saying good-bye to him and his constant companion, a big husky named Hobo. It would have been far too easy to fall totally in love with him. It was hard to think about leaving without my mind and my heart automatically returning to Palmer. It was going to be difficult—harder than I wanted to think about.
Palmer was the epitome of how one would define an Alaskan man.
Independent.
Self-sufficient.
Stubborn.
Rugged.
And a dozen other adjectives quickly came to mind. Just the thought of Palmer being outside of this world, and wearing a suit and tie, was enough to make me giggle. I couldn’t picture him in anything other than his plaid flannel shirts and worn blue jeans. We’d grown close in the time I’d spent at the lodge. He was unlike any man I’d ever known. We’d never officially had a typical date, like dinner or a movie—and yet I felt like I knew him better than any of my friends back home. We’d spent virtually every day together since I’d been here. It wasn’t going to be easy to leave. Thinking about Palmer weighed down my heart. Really, there was no future for us, I had reasoned to myself. I’d come to love Alaska, but I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life here. Nor would Palmer ever be happy in a big city. The traffic alone would undo him.