Chapter Seven

Malcolm was on his way to Karluk long before the sun rose Tuesday morning. He’d wanted to capture on film the way sunrise angled into the valley and the details of Aleutian morning life. He wanted to catch the men leaving to fish and the women cooking or hanging their laundry to dry. The black-haired, large-eyed children were his favorite. Their ready smiles stood out on their chubby cheeks whenever they caught sight of him.

Without taking his eyes from the road, he opened the glove compartment in his Jeep to check his supply of candy for the Aleutian children. The dim light revealed a whole package of taffy—the children’s favorite—and also his pack of cigarettes Karissa had tried to throw away the day before.

He made a guttural noise. A whole day without cigarettes! Yesterday he had kept feeling his shirt pocket for a cigarette, and each time had felt relief that he had left them in the jeep. Of course, he had meant to give the pack to the camera crew—like him, they weren’t partial to any brand—and he still didn’t know why he hadn’t remembered.

A sudden craving bit deep into him, penetrating his entire body. The Jeep slowed and came to a stop on the dirt road. The engine stalled. For a long moment, Malcolm sat staring at the pack of cigarettes nestled in the dash compartment. The only light came from the tiny bulb inside. He licked his lips and felt them grow cold in the freezing air. The windows began to fog from the heat of his breath.

No one would know, he thought.

He pictured Karissa’s face, and knew how hurt she would be if she found out he hadn’t upheld his part of the bargain, even though it had been a bargain she had forced upon him. He found it difficult to believe that quitting smoking would help them have a child—at least not on his part. Karissa’s quitting made sense, since her body carried a limited supply of eggs, but a man’s reproductive system was continually renewing itself. Smoking should make no difference.

You said you would try, his conscience whispered.

He sighed. “I’ll have a piece of candy instead. It worked yesterday.” He laughed, but the sound held no mirth. “At this rate, I’m going to gain weight.”

He pulled out the bag of taffy, but the cigarettes on top came with it. His hand closed over them almost greedily.

Throw them out, he told himself. Now, quick.

But he couldn’t litter. Besides, that would mean good money going to waste. “I’ll just finish this pack,” he murmured. Then no more. I can do it. It’s not like I’m really addicted or anything. I can stop when I want to.”

He felt relief at the decision and quickly started the Jeep. Not until he was moving again did he light up. He breathed the smoke in deeply, and gradually the jitters he had felt for the past day subsided.

Just this pack, he thought. Then I’ll quit. No one will ever have to know.

* * * * *

Early Tuesday morning Brionney sat on the edge of the tub, facing in the direction of the toilet, just in case. Not for the first time she wished the guest bathroom was smaller, instead of half the size of their spacious bedroom. It took her three large steps to make it to the toilet in the corner. She’d counted them. So far, she’d made it every time. Her stomach moved uneasily, and she imagined she was on a ship in a stormy sea. She felt terrible, but knew the feeling would pass. Why couldn’t she remember how awful pregnancy was until it was upon her? If only she had remembered, she might have put it off a bit longer.

Three children already, she thought. How on earth can I handle another? When Rosalie turned three, Brionney had felt ready, but now she was not so sure. The uncertainty triggered a mountain of guilt. The picture of Jesus on the wall next to the sink seemed to look down on her with knowing eyes. Can you help me? she pleaded silently.

She studied the picture. Jesus was sitting on a rock, teaching a group of people. What is this picture doing here in the bathroom? Now that she thought about it, there were many pictures of Jesus in the house. In every room practically, except maybe the sitting room; she didn’t remember seeing one there. Maybe Karissa and Malcolm weren’t as far removed from religious matters as she had thought. Maybe she could somehow help them. She gave a long sigh.

“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Jesse asked sympathetically, standing in front of the sink across the room. He’d been shaving when she barreled into the bathroom. Now he stood helplessly, the lather still covering most of his face, not knowing how to help her. “I mean, it might be too much work for you.”

“I have to make dinner anyway, and with their cleaning lady, I won’t have to clean much.”

“I thought you didn’t like Karissa. You said she was too cold.”

She met his gaze. “I think I may have been wrong.” She held up her hand. “I know, I know. You always say that I judge too quickly, but in my experience, the worst generally is true.” Jesse frowned, but Brionney pretended not to notice. The wounds of her past were healed but not completely forgotten, despite her husband’s devotion. “I know it may seem strange,” she continued, “but I feel we should stay. And I really am beginning to like Karissa. She’s a nice person.”

Jesse nodded and faced the mirror but turned again when a sob escaped her. He tossed his razor into the sink and crossed the space between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I keep thinking about the gas.” She nearly choked on the words. “What if we lose this baby because of it?” She caressed her stomach. Already it seemed as if she could feel her child there, growing. Unbidden, the green plant container on her dresser came to mind. In it there was dirt, topped by two flat rocks—a remembrance she could not let go. Not yet.

He sat next to her on the edge of the tub. “We’re not going to lose him.”

“Him?” she asked.

“Hey, it’s gotta happen sometime.”

She smiled. “Maybe.” But her smile vanished as suddenly as it had come. “Sometimes I think I can’t handle any more children, that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have a another miscarriage. Then I feel like I would die if that were to happen. I just can’t face it! I love this baby already.”

“It won’t happen. We won’t let it.” He caressed her neck and kissed her cheek. The white cream on his face rubbed off on to hers. “If you’re really worried, let’s have the doctor do an ultrasound. I can make an appointment when I go to the hospital today.”

“Not yet. I’d rather wait until he suggests it. I don’t want to be chasing ghosts because of the last time.”

“Then trust me. I have a feeling about this one. In less than seven months, we’ll be changing his diapers.” He paused to let the words sink in. “And just to show you how much I appreciate my first son, I’ll change all his diapers for two whole weeks. Except the six-wipe diapers. I can’t take those.”

Brionney chuckled, and this time she felt happy. Jesse had always made her laugh. It was one of the reasons she’d married him. “I love you, Jesse Hergarter, but I’m holding you to that promise, including the six-wipe diapers.”

He sighed. “You are so demanding.”

“Get used to it.”

He stood up to finish his shave. “Only seven more months to go.”