Alaskan Holiday
Page 4

As hard as it was to admit, it was unlikely I’d ever return to Ponder. It was best to let the relationship die before either of us had regrets. It saddened me. I knew I was going to miss Palmer dreadfully, but I was mature enough to accept that there was no other option than for me to leave come morning.
In addition to Palmer, I’d miss Jack, too. He was a good man, kind and gentle. Funny, too, although I don’t think he realized it. Over the six months I’d spent at the lodge, he’d become like a father figure to me. My own father had died when I was only three years old in a construction accident before I had any memories of him. While Mom had occasionally dated over the years, there’d never been anyone serious.
Like Palmer, Jack was everything I’d listed as a true Alaskan man, and more. He’d worn the same shirt and pants the entire time I’d been working at the lodge. Apparently, he’d bought several sets of the same outfit and wore them repeatedly. He must have gotten a discount, was all I could think. That, or he couldn’t be bothered with appearances.
The one thing continually on Jack’s mind was food. He gushed with compliments over my cooking. I swear I could have fed him boxed macaroni and cheese and he’d say he’d never eaten anything better. The way he told it, I cooked like an angel. He repeatedly insisted that he’d never tasted food as good as what I served. I’m convinced he fed the same line to every chef who’d ever been at the lodge, but I had to say I enjoyed hearing it. When Jack wasn’t guiding a hunting party or panning for gold, he found every excuse under the sun to hang around the kitchen with me. I enjoyed our talks—I was comfortable discussing my career, hopes, and goals with him. I liked to think that if my father had lived, we would’ve shared conversations like those I’d shared with Jack.
My suitcases were packed, and I was ready to leave when the ferry arrived, at about six in the morning. We were instructed to have our luggage in the lobby that night before heading to bed. Jerry had already pulled his boat out of the water and taken it across the lake for servicing and winter storage. Within a week, two at the most, the lake would freeze over. Most of the summer residents of Ponder had already departed for the winter, and it had become something of a ghost town. Only a few rugged souls remained behind, Palmer and Jack among them.
The knock on my door didn’t surprise me. I figured it was Palmer, and I was right. Per our usual routine, he waited until the kitchen was clean and I was in my room before he stopped by.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at him, doing my best to hide my heart. Seeing him, I realized that this was going to be harder than I’d thought it would be. We’d spent evenings together practically every night for the last six months. I’d truly enjoyed every minute with him and Hobo. I’d never had a relationship like this, nor had I ever felt as close emotionally to a man. I feared that in the future I would compare everyone I dated to him, and everyone else would pale in comparison.
“You up for a walk?” he asked.
It was the same question he asked me every night.
“Sure.” I looked around. “Where’s Hobo?”
“I left him at the house.”
That wasn’t typical. Hobo was Palmer’s shadow—he almost always joined us. I reached for a jacket as we headed out of the lodge. Evenings had become decidedly cooler now. There’d even been a hint of snow the day before, and more was forecasted. While it was only October, this part of Alaska typically had snow by this time, and I knew Seattle was already engulfed in the autumn rainy season.
I dressed warmly, being sure to use thick wool socks along with my boots. Because it was my last night, I didn’t want to turn Palmer down, despite the frigid air. I could see my breath when we stepped outside.
“It’s getting colder every day now,” I commented, looking up at the sky on the off chance I’d get one last look at the Northern Lights before I departed. The aurora borealis was something to behold. Flashing streaks of purple and green shot across the night sky, the beauty of it taking my breath away every time. One of my favorite memories of my time in Alaska was lying on my back with Palmer beside me, holding my hand, while we looked up at the sky. I’d never felt closer to anyone.
“Winter’s coming on,” Palmer said, hands buried deep inside his coat pockets.
Just this morning, Jerry had mentioned that according to the Farmers’ Almanac, this winter was forecasted to be one of the coldest on record. The lake had already started to freeze.
I tucked my arm around Palmer’s elbow because of the uneven ground. All right, it was an excuse. I liked being close to Palmer, and because it was our last night together, this made it especially poignant.
We walked down the familiar path, and he was unusually quiet.
“Josie?”
“Yeah?”
He released my arm and reached inside his jeans pocket, removing a slip of paper. Then he turned toward the moonlight to read whatever was on it.
“You’re beautiful,” he read. “I want you to know when I look at you all I see is beauty.”
Well, that was nice, although unexpected. “Thank you, Palmer.”
He looked down at his list a second time. “I like that your teeth are white and straight, too.”
Teeth? He liked my teeth? “Ah, thanks. I wore braces for almost two years. Mom couldn’t afford an orthodontist bill, so she baked and sold cakes to pay for all the dental work I needed.” My mother had made sacrifices throughout my entire childhood.
“I like your blue eyes, too.”
I grinned and looked down at the ground. “They’re brown, Palmer.”
“They are? I could have sworn they were blue.”
“Nope, always have been brown.”
He inhaled so loudly I thought he might pass out. “You okay, Palmer?” He was acting so strangely.
Bracing his hand against the side of a tree, he hung his head.
He had me worried. “Are you okay?” I asked again, frowning. He looked decidedly uncomfortable. I was about to suggest we return to the lodge when he started to speak again.
“Yes,” he barked. “I’m feeling just fine.” He looked up and apologized. “I…I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“It’s okay. I’d hate for us to argue on my last night here. That happens, you know.”
“What happens?” he asked, as he broke away from the tree and we continued our walk.
“I have a friend,” I explained, hoping to ease the awkwardness between us. “Her name is Jessie, you might have heard me mention her before.”
“What about Jessie?”
“Her husband’s in the Navy, stationed on an aircraft carrier. He’s away up to eight months at a time. She told me that before he leaves port, they always seem to have a big fight. I know it sounds nuts, but she says it makes it easier for him to go and for her to be without him. They always make up, but it’s a pattern they’ve fallen into.”
“Oh?”
It sounded as though Palmer didn’t have an inkling as to why I’d mentioned Jessie. “I was thinking, you know, that we should have a fight, because it would be easier for us to part ways in the morning.”
Palmer didn’t seem to hear me. Instead of responding, he looked down at the same piece of paper. “I’ve never met anyone who can cook as well as you, and still manage to stay in good shape.”
I managed to swallow a laugh, because he appeared to be entirely serious. “Well, thank you, Palmer, but you know the saying about not trusting a skinny cook.”
“I trust you, Josie,” he insisted. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”
“I know you trust me. It’s just a joke people make, Palmer.” I couldn’t figure out what on earth had gotten into him.
“Your hair smells good, too, like vanilla and strawberries.”
“It’s the shampoo I use,” I explained. He really didn’t look well. “Are you sure everything is all right, Palmer? You’re acting strange.”
“I’m fine. The way a woman smells is important to a man.”
“Yes, I suppose it is. The way a man smells is important to a woman, too,” I assured him.