Alaskan Holiday
Page 9

“I’m sorry for all this, Josie.”
She looked up and caught my gaze, her own eyes narrowing. “Are you really sorry, Palmer? I would think having me trapped in town must look like a gift to you.”
“Not against your will, it isn’t.” I meant that, whether Josie believed me or not. Jack might not share my opinion, but that was on him. For my part, I proposed, although badly, and Josie had said she wasn’t interested.
End of story.
If she thought I was going to beg her to stay, then she was wrong. I had my answer. It wasn’t the response I’d wanted, but it was one I had to accept.
Josie didn’t appear to believe me.
It was time to explain why I’d come to the lodge. “I actually might have a solution for getting you back to Seattle.”
It took a bit for my words to sink in. At first it seemed like Josie wasn’t sure I was sincere. Then her eyes rounded with excitement. “What do you mean? Do you know someone willing to come for me?”
“I might. A friend of mine, Sawyer O’Halloran, is a bush pilot and owns a ski-plane. He has reason to fly this way every so often—”
“Define often,” she blurted out, interrupting me.
“He’s in the area every few weeks or so on business. I can reach out and ask him when he might be able to make a stop here.”
“You’d do that?”
“I said I would.” It was a kick in the gut to see how excited Josie got. I didn’t need anything more to confirm how eager she was to leave Ponder.
To leave me.
“Once I hear back from him, I’ll let you know.”
“I appreciate this more than I can say.”
“No problem, but I’m not making any promises.”
“Of course.”
As much as I wanted Josie in Ponder, I couldn’t, wouldn’t, manipulate events so she’d be forced to stay. I appreciated her talents as a chef—her passion, her drive, her creativity. After all, she was an artist like myself.
Some of the eagerness drained from her eyes as another thought came to her. “What do you think he’ll charge me?”
Uncertain, I wasn’t sure what to tell her. “Can’t say, but I’ve never known Sawyer to be unreasonable. And as he’s already going to be in the area, I strongly suspect it will be a fraction of the estimate you got earlier.”
It looked as if Josie was about to cry. The one thing I couldn’t deal with was a crying woman. My first impulse was to hug her, although I didn’t know if she’d appreciate my touch.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Think nothing of it,” I said, and started toward the door. It was time I returned to work and kicked Jack out of my cabin before he consumed all my winter supplies.
“Can I give you a hug?” Josie asked. Before I could answer, she had crossed the room. I’d give anything to have her in my arms. But holding Josie, feeling her softness, breathing in the wonderful scent of her hair, would be pure torture now.
I didn’t have a choice. She slipped her arms around my middle and pressed the side of her face against my chest.
“I don’t understand why you’re helping me,” she said softly, as I continued to hold her close, savoring every moment. I wanted to store up this warm sensation and cling to it for as long as my memory would allow.
“I would think the answer is obvious.”
Breaking away, she looked up, and her eyes locked with mine.
“I love you, Josie. I would do almost anything I could for you.”
CHAPTER 5
Josie
I refused to unpack my suitcase. My desperate hope was that Palmer’s friend would find an excuse to fly into Ponder sooner rather than later. When he arrived, I intended to be ready. For three days I lived out of my luggage, until I couldn’t bear digging through my clothes another minute. I carefully set out a few items and placed them inside my drawers.
Since that first morning when I’d missed the last ferry out of Ponder, I’d avoided Palmer, which was much harder than I thought it would be. He’d stopped by the lodge any number of times and I’d found an excuse to send him on his way. I could tell he was disappointed, and after the second day of attempts, he hadn’t stopped by again. I couldn’t blame him. Only now, I was lonely and depressed. I was afraid if I spent time with Palmer, I would never find the courage to leave. I couldn’t allow my heart to make a life-changing decision for me. This was a serious turning point in my life. I couldn’t marry Palmer any more than I could live in Ponder.
With little to do at the lodge, I had nothing but time on my hands. I worked at creating recipes and menus and emailed those to Chef Anton, who had agreed to hold my position. I read two books in three days, cooked, and baked. I worked on a needlepoint project I’d brought with me that I’d started while in high school. After three full days of isolating myself and avoiding Palmer, I’d had enough. I was only hurting myself. Palmer was good company and I missed him, missed our times together. I missed Hobo, too. The husky had made his way to the lodge on his own that morning, and I nearly cried when I saw him, so thankful for the company.
Jack stopped by two or three times a day, always around mealtimes. No surprise there. If I let him, the older man would become my constant companion. He talked nonstop, suggesting meals I might consider cooking for him. He’d gone so far as to say I should thank him for giving me something to do while I waited: feed him. Just this morning, he’d brought me a package of frozen caribou meat and asked me to make his favorite stew. Because he’d generously provided the necessary ingredients, I set about putting everything together in a large Dutch oven.
“You baking bread today?” he asked, sitting on a stool inside the lodge kitchen while I browned the meat and sautéed the onions for his dinner.
“I baked bread yesterday,” I reminded him.
“It’s gone.”
“Two loaves?” The man ate more than anyone I’d ever known.
“I gave one loaf to Palmer,” he told me. “He was glad to get it, too.”
I busied myself taking the meat out of the cast-iron skillet and placing it inside the pot. “Speaking of Palmer,” I said, afraid to show too much interest, “how is he?”
“Busy. He’s got this commission for a sword and he’s working all kind of hours. Guess he wants it finished before Christmas. Mostly he’s using it as a distraction, you being so close by and all.”
“Oh.”
“Been grumpy, too, especially when I mentioned you. You might want to bake him one of those special cobblers you make with those berries you two picked last summer. That might sweeten him up some.”
My berry cobbler was Jack’s favorite. He wasn’t fooling me. Anything I baked for Palmer, Jack was sure to get part of. I ignored the suggestion.
“What about meals? He’s eating, isn’t he?”
Jack shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. I suppose.”
That didn’t sound encouraging. “Maybe you should share part of this stew with him, seeing that there’s plenty.”
Jack nodded enthusiastically. “That’s a great idea.”
“Wonderful. I’ll put everything together for you to take to him.” My pride wouldn’t allow me to deliver the meal, although by all that was right, I should. I hoped Palmer would see this tasty stew as a peace offering. I owed him an apology of some sort. I’d sort of backed myself into a corner and regretted it, and now I wasn’t sure how to smooth the waters.
“You want me to take dinner to Palmer?” Jack returned indignantly. “This is your idea. You take it to him.”
Part of me wanted to object, but I couldn’t. Ever since Palmer said he was in love with me, I’d been struggling. Late at night I’d lay awake, thinking about marrying him and all that it would mean. I was tempted by his proposal. Really tempted. I was hounded by questions, and frankly, the answers frightened me.
Or maybe it was more the fact that his marriage proposal hadn’t sounded like one. Originally, I hadn’t been able to figure out what on earth he was talking about. I thought he had a case of the flu. Palmer had been talking for a good ten minutes before I had the slightest hint of where the conversation was heading. Then he’d declared his love and asked me to be his wife and all I could see were obstacles instead of the possibilities. For the last three days, I struggled. In my eagerness to work with Chef Anton, to get to my mom and to my friends, I’d discounted my feelings for Palmer, not allowing myself to admit I was in love with him. Why, oh why, did life have to be so complicated?