12

She whirled around. Her ears hummed. Her fists curled. Her face flushed as if she had checked the oven’s temperature for supper. How could he even suggest she leave after all she had done for him? Leave him to a no-good end. She couldn’t go home a failure. What would Mr. Chambers think? Her mother? Ann?

“Are you firing me?” She choked out her words between dry sobs. “Because I’m not leaving. I’m a good nurse.” She stomped her foot. “I am.” And good nurses don’t leave weapons with hurting people.

“Go lay down, Jo. You look worse than I feel.”

“I will not.” She stomped over to the hearth and threw a log on the fire. Then another.

Stepping back from the hearth, she jabbed a finger at the rifle on the wall. “And that…that…” She couldn’t bring herself to name the weapon. “Is for protection. Nothing else.” Her arm shook so violently she brought it to her side. “Look around you, Geoff Chambers. Look around you.” Her voice grew too loud for the living room. “Count your blessings. I have never lived in a place this nice.”

He stared at her as if she were a stranger sauntering into the lodge.

She grabbed a cup off the coffee table and wished it were something larger she could hide behind. She glanced in his direction. “Captain Barrie will be stopping by in the next few days. I don’t want him to see this mess. If I don’t strip your bed and wash your soiled clothes, he won’t come near the door.”

“Oh, he’ll come. And if he finds out I blacked out and left you in the cold—” Geoff leaned forward and punched the table for emphasis. “The reason Tubby stops here is to see if you’re all right. For all he cares, I could be stone cold dead.”

“Don’t say such a thing. I’m not going to let you die.”

“How many times have you almost killed me?”

She stilled. Pressure mounted behind her eyes liked a kinked hose. She pressed the cup into her belly to keep her muscles from cramping and plopped into her reading chair. The high back cushions seemed to be the only support she had at the moment. The newly invigorated embers of the fire held her attention. “I didn’t know what I was doing throwing the morphine away. I didn’t realize it would be so bad. I’ve never done this before. Taken care of someone with such…”

“Such what?”

“Need,” she said, her tears flowing freely. “I’m doing the best I can. I guess I should have stuck to sewing.” Her fingers quivered as she swiped a tear from her cheek.

“Hey.” He dragged his body over to where she sat and tugged at her skirt. “I’m alive. Forget about the mistakes. I shouldn’t have run off at the mouth.”

She shook her head. “We can do better.” Ragged breaths shook her chest. “We have to do better.”

“And we will.” His pity-filled eyes and lopsided grin didn’t overflow with confidence.

Her stomach growled in agreement. “Are you hungry?”

“I could use some tea.” He let go of her skirt.

“What a coincidence.” She blotted her cheeks. “So could I.”

~*~

That night, she checked in on Geoff before she headed up to her room to change into a nightgown. He lay in bed facing the doorway, wide awake, his newly cropped hair still damp from his bath.

Crossing her arms, she leaned against the doorframe. “Are you in pain?”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

“Good.”

“I just can’t seem to fall asleep.” He propped himself up with his elbow. “How ’bout a game of rummy?”

“At this hour?”

He opened the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a deck of cards. “Just one?”

She sighed and perched on the edge of his bed. Arguing was futile. He always got his way. Well, almost always.

“Thank you.” He shuffled the deck.

“For what? Beating you at cards?”

“For being a headstrong runt, and running off with my morphine.”

“You’re most welcome. I’ll take that as a compliment.” She cocked her head and hid her smug smile. Her bold action had worked out for the best. For both of them. “Now deal.”

~*~

Josephine woke to shouts booming outside the lodge. Why was she not in her bed? Why was she in Geoff’s? Splayed on the bed sheet in front of her was a decent hand of cards. Geoff was asleep, resting against a mound of pillows half as high as the headboard. If he had legs, his toes would be tickling her nostrils. She must have fallen asleep.

Oh no! She leapt to her feet. Tubby. What would the captain think if he found her in Geoff’s bedroom with the lodge a mess?

“Geoff. Wake up.” She shook his longest stump. “Tubby’s here.”

“So,” he mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes.

She ironed her wrinkled gingham dress with her hand. “I’m a mess. The lodge is a mess.”

“Tubby won’t mind.”

“I mind.” She raced into the living room to pick up blankets and dishes and tea cups.

Tubby knocked. “Jo?” he bellowed.

Too late.

She folded Geoff’s blanket and used it to shield her disheveled dress. Plastering a good morning grin on her face, she opened the door.

“Happy Bir—” Tubby’s pipe sagged. “What the heck happened to you?” He brushed by her and bent over, half-sliding, half-kicking a box next to the couch.

“Uh… Geoff’s been ill.” Her heart bounced like a paddleball under the captain’s inquisitive stare. It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t have to admit her mistake. “I haven’t slept.”

“Not the influenza, is it?” Tubby marched outside and picked up a pink box from the porch.

“I don’t think so. There’s no fever.”

“Good. That sickness almost caught us in Nome. Wherever it goes it leaves a graveyard.” Tubby stepped into the lodge and handed her the small box. “Chocolate cake. From your mother. Now close that door before a gust blows you clear out the back of this lodge.”

She offered Tubby tea and cake. He accepted both.

“I’ve got letters and cards for you,” Tubby said, wiping frosting from his whiskers. “That big box is full of business ledgers and papers for Master Chambers. “Your mother packed up a crate of sewing what-nots, too.”

Not wanting to waste any of her birthday cake, she smashed the last remaining crumbs with her fork. “Organizing the threads will give me something fun to do today.”

“I would have been here sooner.” Tubby shook his head. “With the troubles in Nome, I got detained on a trip for Mr. Todd.”

“Brice Todd?”

“His father.” The captain cocked his head. “You know the family?”

“Not really. I met Brice at the Chamberses’ house before we left for the lodge.” The mention of Brice’s name left a sour citrus taste in her mouth.

“Should have guessed he’d be there. Those two boys go back a long way. I used to ferry them and their friends on my boat.” Tubby rubbed his whiskers as he reminisced. “They sure knew how to have fun. It’s a shame about the war.” He nodded toward the bedroom door.

Josephine didn’t want to pry, but she was curious about a certain friend mentioned at the mansion.

She placed Tubby’s dirty plate on top of her dish. “Do you remember a friend of theirs—a girl named Christine?”

“Christine Reid? Tall, fair-haired, kind of shy?”

Her cake settled like a stone in her stomach. Christine was her opposite. Oh, why should she care? “I think so.”

“She been out here?” Tubby leaned closer as if for a piece of seafaring gossip.

“No.” She rose and stacked the dishes. “Geoff mentioned her. At the mansion.” Or was it Brice?

Tubby’s gaze swept the room. “Is he treating you well?” His voice barely crossed the table.

She nodded and brushed a few wayward crumbs into her hand. No need to go into the details of the last few weeks. The weeks ahead could only get better.

“Geoff’s manageable. I’m tired and a little homesick, that’s all.”

Tubby re-lit his pipe. Fire sparked off the tobacco as he puffed into the stem. The aroma of baked apples and ash filled the dining room.

“I’d like to stay longer, but I’ve got to get the Maiden up to Skagway.” He stood and patted her shoulder. “It’s good we had our visit.”

Saved by a schedule. She was too tired to answer an inquisition from Tubby.

“Thank you for bringing the gifts and supplies.” She accompanied him to the door and opened it.

“After November, I may not get back this way for a while. Mother Nature’s got a lot to do with that. There’s a musher out this way that can bring the mail.” Tubby turned and blew a ring of smoke into the cool morning. The lazy O disintegrated over the porch misting a smoky fruit scent into the air. He bent over and picked up a metal box. The old, empty medicine box.

A shiver washed over her skin, whip-starting her heart. He knew they were out of morphine. She licked her lips tasting a hint of cocoa and sugar.

Tubby held up his find. The lid flopped open displaying a few damp cotton balls and a tube of spent ointment. “Since I discovered this container at the end of the dock, I’m assuming you have Geoff’s pain under control.”

She cleared her throat and tried to make the jumbled confession in her head into a coherent sentence. “Please take any new morphine back to Dr. Miller.” Placing a hand on his arm, she said, “We’re as good as gold.”

“Hah. Fool’s gold discarded in a creek maybe.”

Her posture stiffened at his assessment. “I’m not a fool.”

Tubby’s gaze did not leave hers for what seemed like a million seconds. “Never thought you were.” He latched the box. “If Chambers ever hurts you, I’ll get here and take you back to Juneau, no questions asked. Just like I didn’t ask about that boarded-up back window.”

Her mouth fell open. She shut it fast. “Thank you, Tubby. I’m doing my best.”

“Of that,” the captain said through pipe puckered lips, “I have no doubts.”

She waved to Tubby one last time as he boarded the Maiden.

When the door was firmly closed, Geoff wheeled into the living room.

“You could have gone.”

“And leave you with this mess?” She shook her head. “But I do hope Tubby brought material for a new bedspread. I don’t think I’ll get the stains out of your old one.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve slept in worse.” Geoff lifted the flaps on the cardboard box Tubby had placed near the couch. “This mine business should keep me out of your hair. Except for this.” He held out a magazine. October’s Companion.

Memories of their argument flooded into her brain.

“Take it.” He rustled the pages. “There might be advertisements for a new polish or cleanser. Your red cheeks will tell me when you’re reading the story about the big man.”

Guilt pinged her chest. She shouldn’t have mentioned the handsome and healthy men in the serials. She took the magazine from him. “Speaking of that man—”

“I wasn’t.”

She met his bloodshot gaze. “Would you like breakfast?”

“Yes, but not chocolate cake.”

“More for me then.” She spun on her heels. “Eggs for you.”

Hunger was a good sign. A sign she had made the right decision by discarding the morphine and staying at the lodge.

Her decision was definitely not a mistake.

Happy eighteenth birthday to me!