Luba’s whimpering grew more insistent. Soon she would be howling.
Anna picked up her daughter and cradled the infant in her arms as she crooned, “Sweet baby. Good baby.”
Luba stopped fussing and turned her head toward her mother as if searching for the familiar voice. Her deep brown eyes found her mother’s.
Anna smiled at the little girl and kissed her cheek, still awed by her role as mother. Life seemed nearly perfect.
Luba had rapidly become part of the family. It seemed she’d always been there. She rarely cried, but her disposition was far from mild. When she needed something, she wailed with zeal until someone took heed.
Anna sat and Luba settled down to nurse.
The hungry infant closed her eyes, clenched her hands into tight little fists, and suckled contentedly.
A powerful love swept through Anna as she gazed at her daughter. Even the child’s scent stirred up deep emotions. How fierce a mother’s love could be.
Kinauquak seemed close these days and Anna thought of him often. She could see him in Luba. His child was all she had left of the young hunter.
Iya stood beside Anna, leaned against her arm, and stroked Luba’s cheek.
The infant let loose of the breast in search of what had tickled her cheek.
Iya planted a kiss on her forehead.
Startled, Luba waved her fists about wildly and then returned to her meal.
“Can I hold her?” Iya asked.
Anna grinned. “You hold Luba too much. Soon she will want only her Iya.”
Iya looked at her with pleading eyes.
“All right. When she finishes.”
Soon after the birth, Anna resumed her daily tasks.
Erik watched with concern and often asked her to do less, but as Anna continued to do as she pleased, he quit trying to convince her to rest.
It was nice he cared, but Anna knew what was best.
Luba thrived. She became plump and was fascinated with the people and activity around her.
Anna kept her in a pouch strapped across her chest as she worked, taking pleasure in always having her child close.
“The way she’s growing, she’ll be walking before we leave,” Erik quipped one day as he watched the infant. He was clearly taken with the addition to the household and often came indoors to check on her. He still made a hasty retreat at feeding times, however, seemingly embarrassed by the natural process of nursing the youngster.
His discomfort amused Anna.
Iya endlessly asked to care for Luba and, although Anna was a little uneasy at first, her young sister was quite capable. Iya seemed to feel no jealousy toward the baby and always treated her with special care.
Although Luba clearly captivated Erik, he never held her. Anna had asked him why and his quick answer was that he didn’t know about taking care of babies and was afraid he’d hurt her.
Was that the only reason, or did his refusal have more to do with his growing attachment to her?
One evening after dinner, Anna was especially weary. When Luba started fussing, Anna asked Erik, “Will you get her for me?”
The big man gave her a blank stare, got up, and walked across the room. For several moments he stood over the cradle staring down at the infant.
Iya got up to help.
Anna gently sat her down.
Finally Erik reached into the cradle and picked Luba up. He straightened, balancing her in stiff arms as he walked to the table.
Anna chuckled. “She will not break.”
Erik lowered himself into his chair and sat back, cuddling the little girl against his chest.
Luba clasped her tiny hand about his index finger. “Her grip is strong.”
Anna’s insides felt warm as his insecurity dissolved and his fatherly devotion glowed from within. How foolish she had been to fear Erik would reject Luba. He loved her. And as much as that pleased Anna, it also brought sorrow.
Luba would not remember the outsider who had safeguarded them in the months after the great wave swept away the lives of their people.
Later that night, Anna awakened with a start. Not knowing what had disturbed her, she checked Luba and found her sleeping soundly, thumb planted firmly in her mouth. Anna stood silently in the darkness and listened.
A crackling noise broke the stillness.
Anna went to the window and peered out.
With no moon, the night was black. A sharp, popping sound echoed through the forest.
She waited and listened until it came again. What was that sound? “Erik,” she whispered across the dark room.
Erik groaned and his covers rustled.
“Erik,” she whispered more adamantly.
“Is something wrong?”
“I do not know. Strange sounds come from the forest.”
Then he was next to her scanning the darkness. “It’s pitch black out,” he muttered.
“Listen.”
Erik waited. No sound came. “I don’t hear anything. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”
Anna opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut it as a cracking sound reverberated through the woods.
This time Erik heard it, too.
He looked out the window, tipped his head, and listened.
An eerie grinding noise floated out of the darkness, accompanied by a series of pops and snaps.
“It’s the river!” he nearly shouted. “Break up!”
Sounds of the baby and Iya’s restlessness could be heard from across the room.
“What is break up?” Anna whispered.
“The ice is beginning to melt and break apart.”
“It sound strange. Like angry spirits.”
Erik grinned. “It’s not spirits, believe me. I’ve heard it before. Back in Minnesota the rivers used to freeze up tight during the winter. When the thaw begins so does a terrible racket. It won’t be long now until we will be able to move on. Not long now,” he repeated, his voice dropping off as he walked back to his bed. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll go down and check the river.”
Erik’s outburst had awakened Luba and she started fussing.
Anna cradled the baby in her arms and rocked her gently as she nursed her. “Not long now, Luba.” She whispered Erik’s words and stroked the baby’s thick black hair. “Not long before we go.” A dull ache settled in the base of Anna’s throat as she thought about moving on. Even with Luba cuddled next to her, she felt lonely.
Erik rose early the next morning and was back with a report on the river’s condition before Anna had breakfast ready. “I was right. The ice is melting.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and straddled a chair. “Don’t know how long it’ll take before we’ll be able to travel. If the temperature stays warm, it could be soon. But we’ll have to be patient. Wait until we can count on warm enough temperatures.”
Anna set the last of the berries and a plate of pancakes on the table and tried to sound cheerful. “This cabin grows too small.” She looked about the room and brushed a strand of hair off her face. “It will feel good to travel.”
Erik speared two flapjacks and dropped them on his plate, but made no move to eat them.
“Flowers come soon?” Iya worked her way beneath Erik’s arm.
“I’ll betcha we’ll be able to find some any day now.”
Iya climbed onto his lap and hugged him about the neck. “Anna, can we look for flowers today?”
Anna busied herself at the fire, keeping her back to the table, doing her best to hide her jumbled emotions. She had dreamed of spring, yearned for it, but now that it loomed before her, was there some way to stall its arrival and the farewells that came with it? Without turning around, she quietly said, “Not today, Iya.”
A huff of exasperation came from the little girl.
There had been sorrows over the last several months but also many good times. Anna cherished this home and the bond that had grown between Iya and Erik. She glanced at the man—she also treasured the bond between herself and Erik.
Admit it. You care for him ... very much.
The handsome outsider had become more than just her protector. He was family. The thought of remaining in some unknown village while he moved on into another world sent hot pain through her heart.
Gloom engulfed her. They would say good-bye and she’d never see him again.
“I’d better get to that wood. What we’ve got won’t last us.” Erik scooted his chair away from the table and placed Iya on her feet.
The door closed but Anna didn’t turn around. He had gone, but his presence remained.
He will always be with me. He was forever imprinted upon her heart.
Iya skipped across the floor and knelt next to Luba. “Does she look like Mama?”
Anna settled her arm about Iya’s shoulders. “Yes. She look like Mama.”
They both gazed at the baby.
“Good. That will help me remember.”
Anna hugged her. “We will never forget.”
The weather grew warmer.
One day Anna told Iya, “Today we look for flowers.”
“Do you think we will find any?” Iya jumped to her feet, nearly dropping Luba in her excitement. After handing the baby to Anna, she hurried and pulled on her boots and coat and skipped to the door. “I am ready.” She grabbed the door latch, shifted from one foot to another, and jumped in place while she waited for Anna to dress Luba.
Finally, Anna and the baby were ready. Anna slipped on a coat and strapped the baby securely into a pack she wore on her back.
The snow was wet and dense because of the warm temperatures. Some of it had melted, exposing patches of dead grass peppered with young green shoots. While trying to decide the best route, Anna balanced Luba on her back and attempted to get the different feel for the pack as she carried the infant in back instead of in front.
Iya ran ahead.
Unwilling to rein in the child’s excitement, Anna followed.
The youngster twirled and skipped across the partially snow-covered meadow. Rather than keeping her eyes on where she was going, Iya looked at everything else, glancing from one tree to another, looking for birds and animals.
Anna expected Iya to take a tumble at any moment, but the sure-footed youngster never did.
Sunshine, rain, and warmer temperatures had brought the forest back to life. Bird songs echoed through the trees. Chickadees and sparrows flitted from branch to branch, their cheerful, sharp trills calling to mates while jays scolded. Occasionally they would drop to the ground in search of grass and twigs for nest-building. A gray squirrel rummaged for food on the forest floor.
Iya squealed and took off after it but he dashed up a tree and out of reach. Iya stood at the base of the spruce waiting for the animal to return to the forest floor for more food. When it didn’t, she moved off in search of something more interesting.
“I want to look at the river.” Anna veered off and headed toward the waterway.
Iya trotted alongside. Part of the time, she walked behind Anna and talked to Luba. “Anna,” she said in a piercing voice, “Luba smiled! She smiled!”
“She smiled?” Anna swung around and faced Iya.
Wearing a broad grin, Iya nodded.
“Oh, this pack,” Anna muttered. “I wish I could see.” She was tempted to stop and spend time playing with the baby, but curiosity about the river’s condition overrode her motherly impulse. There would be many more smiles. She kept moving until she reached the riverbank.
Winter’s icy grip had loosened its hold. The water was free of ice, except for a few patches. The river hurried toward the sea.
They would be leaving soon. Maybe only days from now. Cold spread inside Anna and her throat constricted, making it hard to breathe.
I should be happy.
She squared her shoulders and stared at a piece of spring ice floating downstream. All she could think of was Erik’s leaving them.
Stop. He is not leaving today. And when he goes, it will be the right thing.
Deliberately she turned her back on the river. Using a cheerful voice, she said, “Now we will look for flowers.”
They headed into the forest.
A small stand of birch stood apart from the rest of the trees and seemed to invite them to rest beneath the branches. Tiny buds had emerged, promising new spring growth. Patches of young, green shoots sprouted up between dead grasses where the snow had melted and a single flower stood in the shadows.
Anna’s gaze fell upon the delicate, blue star. She approached it as if it were a wild animal that might flee and knelt beside it. Oh, how she had missed the flowers. It’d been so long. Memories lifted her back to the bluffs that overlooked the beaches that had been her home, a place infused with wildflowers. She reached out and touched the fragile petals.
“Can I pick it?” Iya crouched next to Anna. “It is very pretty.”
Anna blinked back tears. “It is pretty, but we do not take it. It waits for family to join it. Soon there will be many flowers just like this. Then we can pick some.” Even as she spoke, Anna was tempted to pluck the blossom. Abruptly she stood. If she waited a moment longer, she would take the delicate bloom.
Luba wailed over her mother’s sudden movement.
Anna maneuvered the pack around to her side and lifted the howling infant. She sang softly and rocked her, but nothing calmed the baby. “She is hungry. I will feed her here. If I do not, we will have to listen to her cry.” Anna sat on the damp grass, leaned against a tree, and nursed her daughter until Luba grew content.
Iya examined the tiny, blue flower closely. Before Anna could react, Iya pulled it from the ground, roots and all, and proudly displayed her prize. “I will plant it by the cabin. When we go, it will stay.”
Anna resisted the urge to scold her. The little girl had grown to love their winter home and didn’t want to leave. Maybe this will help. “All right.” Looking into Iya’s expectant eyes she feared the flower would die and leave Iya heartsick. “It will be hard for the plant to live in new ground,” she cautioned.
Iya ignored the warning and cupped her treasure protectively close to her.
A breeze caressed Anna’s face. The creaking of the nearly bare limbs as they moved in the wind soothed her nerves. Before long the rustling of leaves would accompany the breezes. Although the sun was bright, it gave off little warmth and Anna shivered. She surveyed the patches of snow and grass and imagined what the area would look like in less than a month. Green bushes and flowers would emerge, followed by pesky insects and many more birds whose songs would filter through the forest.
I will miss this place.
Luba had fallen asleep. Careful not to awaken her, Anna gently placed the baby in the pack and slipped it onto her back. “Time to go,” she whispered to Iya. “If Erik comes back, he will worry.”
Before pushing to her feet, Anna picked a stock of the early spring grass. She ran her hands over its smooth, broad leaves and breathed in its fresh fragrance.
It is good that spring comes.
She placed the grass stem in her mouth and chewed on it as they headed toward home.
The winter storms didn’t visit again and the river remained free of ice. It was time to leave. Erik seemed preoccupied and sullen as he made preparations for the journey. Though he appeared sorrowful about leaving, Anna couldn’t bring herself to ask him if it were so.
With Iya’s help, she prepared food for the journey and gathered up their clothing while Erik worked to make certain the umiak was seaworthy.
With that completed, he brought in his trap lines and banded hides together. “We did well this winter,” he said as he tied up the last batch of pelts. “They’re fine furs and should bring a good price.” He picked up a bundle and hefted it onto his shoulder. “You and Iya did a good job. I’ll take these down to the boat.” But he didn’t move away. “I want to give you some of the money when I sell them.”
“I did not help for money.”
“I just think you deserve something for all your hard work.” He stroked his beard as his gaze moved to the smoke house. “God has been generous. Smoked salmon will taste real fine while we’re traveling.” Looking toward the river he said, “I’d like to leave tomorrow.”
“We will be ready.” Anna moved the baby to her shoulder. “Luba will be a good traveler.”
But when Anna allowed her thoughts to consider the coming trip and the perils that lay ahead, fear welled up inside. She smoothed the baby’s silky hair. Erik is a good boatman, and the umiak is strong.
Erik seemed to sense Anna’s apprehension. “There’s a village. It’s several weeks’ travel, but we can rest there and get supplies.” He brushed hair off his forehead and gazed out toward the North. “When I came through, the people seemed nice. They live along a beach like you did. It might be a good place for you, Iya, and Luba. There’s even a trading post.”
Anna nodded, afraid to speak and reveal her unhappiness. Why would she wish to stay with strangers while Erik traveled on? She took a deep breath and talked of practical things instead. “There is much fish and meat, but no berries, and the flour is almost gone.”
“Yeah, I know. We’re getting low on supplies. We’ll just have to do the best we can. There will be game along the way.” Erik shrugged. “I better get back to work.”
That evening the cabin was unusually quiet. A heavy gloom settled over the small home. Even Luba was more subdued than usual.
Anna cooked the last of the caribou and used a small portion of the flour for biscuits, making extra for the days ahead.
Erik bounced Luba in his arms and nuzzled her soft, round face.
Iya merely watched the activity, her smile missing.
Before they ate, Erik bowed his head. “Heavenly Father, thank You for this food You’ve provided. You have taken good care of us this winter and always made sure we had plenty to eat. Thank You for that, and thank You for making Iya one of yours.” He took in a slow deep breath. “I’d also like to thank You for bringing little Luba to us.” His voice faltered. “It’s been a good year. Continue to care for us and guide us in the days to come. And God, please help Anna know how much You love her and draw her close to You. Amen.” He looked up and met Anna’s gaze.
He knew how she felt about his God. Why would he ask for such a thing? She served the meal without speaking.
The following morning held no time for misgivings or sorrowing. There was too much to do. Erik packed supplies into the umiak while Anna and Iya hauled the remainder of their belongings out to the boat.
When they were ready to leave, Iya said, “Wait. I want to say good-bye.” She ran back to the cabin.
Anna handed Luba to Erik. What was Iya saying good-bye to? “I will be back.” She followed her sister and found Iya kneeling beside her beloved flower. “What are you doing?”
Iya looked up at Anna, eyes shimmering with tears. “My flower. It is not alone. It has a family now.”
Anna looked more closely.
Planted in the soft earth beside the cabin, the flower had grown and stood erect, reaching toward the spring sunlight. Instead of one blossom, it now held two.
Iya patted the ground beside the plant. “It is not alone.”