Anna had known from the beginning that Erik would go, but she hadn’t planned on loving him. She glared up at the sky and said through clenched teeth, “You did this. It is Your fault.” Her outburst did nothing to soothe her. It merely intensified her sense of despair and emptiness. Fighting tears, she slowly walked back inside.
Later that day Erik returned to the cabin and stepped into the room.
Affia was the first to see him. “You like chia?”
“No. No time. Thanks,” he answered quietly.
Looking somber, Affia bowed slightly and quietly left the cabin.
Iya sat on the floor with her legs drawn up close to her chest, resting her head on her knees. Careful to keep her eyes from meeting Erik’s, she rocked slowly back and forth, chanting an ancient song, one the village people sang about the time of creation when the raven god came to be and offered a new beginning to the People.
All life had drained from Anna. The joy she’d so recently discovered was gone, once more buried beneath the weight of sorrow. She poured herself a cup of tea. Before setting the pot back in the coals she asked, “Are you sure you do not want a cup?”
“Don’t feel much like it right now,” Erik said soberly, as he sat next to Iya. Looking tired, brow furrowed, he held his mouth in a tight grimace as he looked everywhere except at her.
Anna tapped her finger against the edge of the cup.
No one spoke.
Only Luba was unaware of what was happening and cooed as she played happily in her cradle.
“Are you packed?” Anna stared into her tea.
Erik cleared his throat. “Yeah, I got everything ready to go. I just wanted to stop and say good-bye.”
Iya shot him a look of contempt.
Grief touched his face. “Iya, I wish I didn’t have to leave. It hurts me, too. I—”
“Then why do you go? I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend. I ... I care about you very much.” Erik stumbled over his words. “It’s just that we come from two different worlds. I can’t stay in yours and you’d never be happy in mine.”
“I would,” Iya argued.
“No. I don’t even have a home. I’m a drifter.” Wearily, Erik glanced at Anna, unable to hide his guilt and pain. Setting his pack on the floor, he dug through it and pulled out his Bible. For a moment he let his eyes rest on it, running his hand over the soft leather. “This belonged to my mother.” He looked at Iya. “I want you to have it.”
Iya kept her eyes trained on the floor in front of her.
Erik took her hands and placed the precious book on her palms.
Iya stared at the Bible before lifting her tear-stained face to Erik. “I cannot read. Only you read stories.”
“The man who runs the trading post is married to a woman who used to teach. Maybe she could read it to you. She might even teach you how to read.” He attempted a smile.
“Could you—” Anna glanced out the window. “Could you read one more story?”
Erik turned a startled look on Anna. “Sure.” He blinked back tears and cleared his throat. “What do you want to hear?”
“Story about woman called Ruth.”
Gently Erik took the Bible from Iya and opened it to the book of Ruth. He brushed at moist eyes and, voice trembling, read, “Now it came to pass in the days when the judges ruled, that there was a famine in the land.” He read about Ruth and her journey to a new land, a place with unfamiliar customs and strange ideas and a God Ruth had never known.
Anna once more felt a kinship with the woman who had lived so long ago.
“Then Naomi said unto her daughter-in-law, ‘Blessed be he of the Lord, who hath not left off his kindness to the living and the dead.’ And Naomi said unto her, ‘This man is near of kin unto us, one of our next kinsman.’”
Just as Boaz was to Ruth, you are my relation. Anna glanced at Erik. He was no longer the outsider she had met months before but family. Hope sprang to life—was not Erik very like Boaz? Could he become her kinsman?
Almost immediately reason told her No.
That was long ago. I am not Ruth. Erik is not Boaz. We are from different worlds. Two worlds that cannot blend. But, as she remembered the sorrows, adventures, and joys they had shared, she wondered if they really were so different.
“So Boaz took Ruth, and she was his wife: and when he went in unto her, the Lord gave her conception, and she bare a son.”
Anna couldn’t bear to hear more. “That is enough. I know the rest.” She crossed the room and tended to Luba, even though the infant was content.
Erik slowly closed the Bible and returned it to Iya. He stood and fidgeted with his pack, as though unwilling to leave.
Iya stared at the Bible. Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Unexpectedly Erik scooped her into his arms and held her close.
Iya responded by clinging to his neck as if by doing so she could hold him there.
Neither was able to speak through their tears.
Why does he leave?
Erik kissed Iya’s cheek before reluctantly setting her down. His expression one of torment, he wiped away tears and forced a smile. “You take care of yourself and don’t forget me, now.”
Iya remained where he had set her. Shoulders drooping, she stared at the floor, unable to watch him go.
Erik turned and looked at Anna.
She focused her attention on Luba. She didn’t want to say good-bye.
Erik stood there, waiting.
Anna cradled Luba against her shoulder and mindlessly patted her back.
He waited silently.
It was useless to put it off. She finally lifted her eyes and looked into his steady gaze, searching for any sign of hope. Finding none, she took a ragged breath. She longed to tell him how she felt, but the words stuck in her throat. Mute, she waited for him to speak.
“Well, I guess it’s time.” He glanced at the floor, then back at Anna. “We’ve had quite a time, haven’t we?”
Anna nodded. If she spoke, her sorrow would overflow, leaving her exposed and defenseless before him.
“Do you mind if I hold Luba one more time?”
Anna handed the baby to him.
Erik held the little girl close. He lifted her up and studied her as if trying to memorize her face, then he returned the infant to her mother’s arms. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to miss you. I hope you find happiness here. I really do.”
You are my happiness. Anna couldn’t bring herself to say it.
Erik looked as if he wanted to say more, but without another word he hoisted his pack onto his shoulder, tipped his hat, and left the small house.
Anna watched Erik go, every part of her longing to run after him, to stop him, to tell him she loved him. Instead, she stood motionless and whispered, “Please stay.”
Iya stared up at her sister with large, empty eyes. “Say it louder. Go tell him.”
Anna slumped to the floor and rocked the baby while chanting softly ... of loss and despair.
Iya leaned on Anna’s shoulder. “Will we see him again?”
Anna merely chanted. The song grew quieter and faded. Anna put her arm about Iya’s waist and pulled her close. “I do not think he will return.”
Affia joined them and quietly knelt next to her new friends, hugging and comforting them as if they were her own.
For a long time they said nothing as they huddled together.
Affia finally asked, “You love man?”
Anna blinked back her tears but couldn’t find her voice and only nodded.
“Maybe he come back?”
Anna swallowed hard. “No, he will not.” Abruptly, she pushed herself up from the floor, set Luba in her cradle, and rocked her. “We will live here now without him.” She ran her hand across the smooth, cool wood of the cradle, the wood Erik had chosen. How can we live without him?
The rocking lulled Luba to sleep.
Though Anna felt depleted and weary, it would be useless to try to find comfort in slumber. Instead, Anna helped Affia prepare the midday meal.
As she scooped berries into a bowl, Affia said, “After husband gone, I stay this house. Not move back to mother’s hut. Sometimes I lonely …” She seemed lost for a moment in another time and place. As if remembering where she was, she looked up at Anna with a soft smile. “I glad you stay.”
Anna could barely manage a small smile. Her heart ached too much. What had happened to the husband and child Affia missed? Maybe Iya and I will be a help to Affia.
That afternoon, she worked on a summer tunic for Iya, keeping her hands busy. Time passed slowly. Stiff and sore from sitting, Anna stood to stretch. Still feeling alone and empty, she stepped outside and breathed in cool air.
Erik’s departure had shaken her life, but life in the village had not changed.
The little community flourished with activity. A child cried and his mother comforted him. Women chatted as they cleaned shellfish and fleshed hides. An old man sat smoking a pipe while listening to a young man’s tale of a perilous hunt. He wore a knowing smile, for once he had been a brave hunter, too, who had sought the great whale and sea lion.
Anna studied the surrounding hills. She went back inside just as Iya awakened. “Would you like to help me cut grass for baskets?” she asked. “We can walk up to the hills.”
Iya nodded and pushed herself upright.
Anna checked on Luba. As she stood over the infant, she was swept into the past. The village, her family, the wave—it all seemed like a distant, mystical dream.
She is all there is of Kinauquak.
“I watch baby,” Affia offered.
Anna laid her hand on Affia’s arm. “Thank you.”
Affia patted Anna’s hand.
“Are you ready?” Anna asked Iya, but the little girl just looked at her through eyes that glistened with tears. Taking Iya’s hand, Anna led her into the sunshine.
For a while they ambled through the village, meeting many of the local people. Each time they bowed their heads respectfully before moving on.
Rolling hills of deep grass flecked with patches of blue and gold flowers grew on the borders of the village. Groves of trees stood like sentinels. It all looked peaceful, so unlike Anna’s turmoil. She wandered toward alluring hillsides, hoping their tranquility would bring comfort.
For a short time the two sisters searched for the tough grasses of their island home, but the grasses here were supple and not good for making baskets. They sat atop a hill, surrounded by a fragrant field, and surveyed their surroundings.
Anna took a long, deep breath and slowly let it out. “It is beautiful here.” She gazed out at the sea and allowed her gaze to sweep over the village. “And these are good people. I think we will be happy here.” She did her best to disguise the emptiness she felt inside.
Iya stood and looked out over the vast ocean. Almost in a whisper, she asked, “Does Erik not like us?”
Anna took Iya’s hand and pulled the little girl down next to her. “He likes us, very much. He cannot live our life and believed his way was bad for us.” She squeezed Iya’s hand.
The waves swept ashore as Anna thought of the people she’d left behind. The lives they had shared washed over her.
They are only memories now.
Tears burned.
Life must hold more than this.
Anna sat there for a long time before the sun lay low in the sky. She glanced down at Iya, who had fallen asleep. Shaking the little girl’s shoulder, she said, “We must go. It is late.”
They hurried back to Affia’s hut where the smell of cooking fish greeted them. Anna fed a very hungry Luba. Although it had been hours since she and Iya had eaten, they had little appetite. Anna settled into bed, tucking Iya in close to her. Sleep and time would ease her sorrow.
Yet long after the others were asleep, Anna lay awake staring at the wall, unable to put her thoughts of Erik aside. She touched her necklace, its satiny coolness, and once more her mind returned to the day he had found it—the empty beach, the ravaged village, Erik’s kindness. Now, more than ever, the walrus tooth symbolized all she had lost.
The room felt stifling hot.
She slipped out of bed and opened the door, feeling compelled to hold Erik’s Bible. Maybe it will bring comfort. She fumbled through Iya’s things in the darkness until her hands found the smooth leather cover. Taking it, she crossed to the fire and knelt in the dim light of the dying flames. At first she just stared at the book, wishing she could understand its secrets. She ran her hand over the old leather cover and flipped through the well-worn pages. She hugged it to her chest. Erik seemed so close. Is this book what made him unafraid? Or was it his God?
Anna wanted to pray, but even as she considered speaking to God the desire jolted her. She had never thought it possible that she would seek Erik’s God. Gripping the Bible between her hands, she bowed her head and whispered a prayer. “You are the God of my mother. She was wise, always kind. Erik has been good to Iya and me. He, too, is wise.” She hesitated, for the words she was about to speak were unthinkable. “I want to be like them. I want to know You.” Tears spilled down her cheeks and she was unable to hold back sobs. “Can You take away my sorrow and give me peace?”
“Yes, He can.” A husky voice came from behind her.
Anna spun around and peered into the dimness. Unable to quiet the quaking in her voice, she asked, “Who is there?”
A figure emerged from the shadows, a silhouette of a man, and the dim light of the fire illuminated him.
Erik.
Anna stared at him, unable to believe what her eyes told her.
He moved toward her, and as he came close he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders. He took a shaky breath. “I had to come back,” he said, looking into Anna’s eyes as though searching for something.
Anna gazed at him, still unable to speak.
“I tried to leave. But as I paddled away from this place and from you, I knew it was wrong. I couldn’t leave without telling you.” He stopped as if searching for just the right words. “I know you think of me as an outsider, and it’s true. I come from a very different world and we are unlike each other, but I can’t help ...” He wet his lips. “I can’t help loving you.”
Anna sucked in a breath and took a step backward.
“I’m sorry. I just had to tell you.” His voice faltered. “I’ll be on my way in the morning.”
A smile spread across Anna’s face as she moved closer to Erik. She reached out and caressed his cheek, her eyes never leaving his. “Do not go. I also have love for you.”
Erik enfolded her in his arms, crushing her to him. He buried his face in her hair and held her tightly as if he were afraid she might suddenly disappear. “I was so afraid.” He cradled her face in his hands and gently kissed her forehead, then each cheek, and finally his lips found hers.
Her heart might explode with all the love it held. She shivered and hesitated for an instant before answering Erik’s kiss. She kissed him again and again, then looked up into the handsome face of the gentle man. How had she ever mistrusted him?
Erik’s body shuddered as he pulled her against him. “We almost lost each other,” he whispered, the horror of what might have happened in his voice.
Anna drew back only a little and placed her hands on his chest. She looked up at him. “I want to know your God. My people are gone. You are my kinsman.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly. “Where you go, I go. Your people will be my people. Your God will be my God.”