11

“Gwyn.”

Voices hovered over her. But she couldn’t make them out. Maybe if she tried a little harder.

“Gwyn . . .”

She recognized that voice. Her father.

“Gwyn. It’s time to wake up.”

Why did it feel like glue held her eyelids shut? “Hmm . . . I’m awake.” She lifted a hand to rub one of her eyes. “I think.”

Father’s deep laughter rolled over her like a blanket. Warm. Caring. Loving. “Good to hear your voice again.”

“Am I late?”

“Late? For what?”

“Isn’t that why you’re waking me up?” She cracked open one eye and then the other.

“No, you’re not late for anything. Just had me a little concerned. You’ve been asleep since Jeremiah rescued you yesterday.”

Rescued? In a rush, all the events of the flood crashed into her memory. “How’s the girl?”

“She’s fine. Already left with her parents.”

“What happened?”

“You suffered from hypothermia. You rescued the girl from the rock in the middle of the river, but it took you both far downstream. Jeremiah said a tree plowed into him from the back and pushed him into the two of you. He doesn’t remember much after that, but the little girl’s parents found you all clinging to roots in a huge curve of the river.”

Gwyn worked to sit up in the bed. Her head pounded. “Ow. That hurts.” She placed a hand over her eyes. “How’s Jeremiah?”

“He’s doing okay. It took some time to convince him that you were all right, but he’s up and around.”

“I’d like to thank him.”

“Don’t worry. I already did. About a hundred times. Wasn’t ready to lose my girl.”

“I’m so tired.” She burrowed back under the blankets. “And cold.”

Father patted her head like he had when she was little. “Get some rest. I’ll throw another quilt over you.”

“Do you remember when I found that baby rabbit?”

Her father laughed. “Which time?”

Gwyn smiled and nodded. “I guess there were quite a few times, weren’t there? I was dreaming before you woke me. It was the time when I was a little girl and I asked you . . . well . . . we talked about Mother and why she didn’t love me like she did Sophia.”

Her father’s expression sobered, and he sat down beside her on the bed. “That was such a hard time for me.” He reached out and pushed back a blond curl. “I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t about to shame either of us and lie. But what can you tell a child about such things?”

Gwyn reached out to take hold of her father’s hand. “I just want you to know that you did the right thing. You told me that Mother didn’t love Alaska and because we did . . . well, it made her feel bad. I think I understand now. I think she felt so displaced, and Sophia was the only part of the past she could hold on to.”

“A past she loved more than she loved you and me,” he said sadly.

“In all these years I’ve selfishly considered how hard that loss was on me. I knew it had hurt you, but I never truly thought of how it must have been for you. You lost both a wife and a daughter.”

“And you a mother and sister.”

Gwyn nodded. “But we’ve always had each other . . . and God. Nasnana told me God would fill the empty places in our hearts, and you know . . . I think He has.”

Father squeezed her hand. “I know He has. Sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us.”

Jeremiah’s thoughts drifted back to Gwyn. For the hundredth time that day. What would he have done if she’d died in the flood?

Those thoughts weren’t productive, but they pressed anyway. Before the flood, his biggest concern had been what she had been doing walking with Clarence.

Clarence. Couldn’t she see the man was a no-good heel?

Dr. H. came up behind him. “Jeremiah, I think we’re going to have to bring Mr. Ellis here. His wife just called from the commissary. I don’t think she can handle the care anymore. Would you mind going out to camp eight and checking on him?”

“Sure.” That would give him some fresh air but too much time to think. Thankfully, they had phone service in the clinic and the commissary, but that only helped speed up getting word to them. It didn’t help with the travel time. The camps were spread out over a large region. They needed a vehicle for the clinic. A phone in each camp would be even better.

“I don’t understand what all these people were thinking, coming here with these illnesses. Didn’t they realize how difficult the journey would be for them?” Harold shook his head. “And how difficult it would be to obtain care?”

“I know. It’s hard to fathom how desperate people could be. Things were bad in the States, but I don’t think Alaska has proven to be any perfect answer for them.”

“No. Certainly not.”

“Still, it gave them hope of a new start.” Jeremiah thought of himself and the secret he continued to keep. He squared his shoulders. Maybe it was time to just get all things hidden into the open.

“Well, I’ll never understand endangering their lives further, as well as the lives of others, by making this journey with disease as part of their baggage.” Harold turned to refocus on some papers he’d left on the desk. “I suppose they thought it would be a solution to their problems. As if we can just cast off our troubles in one location and not have them follow us to another.”

Jeremiah drew in a deep breath, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he explain his own decision to cast aside the troubles of one location in hopes they wouldn’t follow him to the next? Maybe it was time to tell the truth. But no. he chickened out and changed the subject. “How is Gwyn?”

“Much better. Once she rested and warmed up, the headaches left. You’d better get a move on,” Dr. H. declared. “We’ll have plenty to keep us busy once you get back.”

But his conscience pricked. He needed to explain. Needed to tell the truth. Should’ve done it a long time ago.

For a moment Jeremiah hesitated and then the decision was made. Again to take the coward’s road. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He grabbed his medical bag and headed out to camp eight.

Dr. H.’s words continued to haunt him. Why had so many people agreed to come when they were ill? They weren’t just putting themselves in danger, they were putting their families and the rest of the colony in danger as well. Then he thought about being in the same position. If he had a family to provide for, a failing farm and no job, wouldn’t he do the same?

An overwhelming sense of selfishness filled his gut. At least these people had honorable intentions. He’d come here to escape. To hide and hope no one discovered the truth.

“But the truth must come out,” he whispered to himself. There had been so many times when Jeremiah feared he’d been found out—when reporters had given him a second glance, when members of the colony eyed him a little longer than necessary.

Gwyn’s face came to mind. What would she think of him when she found out? As much as he tried to ignore his growing feelings for her, they were still there. Stronger than ever. When he saw her with Clarence the morning of the flood, jealousy reared its ugly head. As much as he tried to convince himself that he couldn’t have a chance with her—he really didn’t want Clarence to have a chance. Gwyn deserved much better.

And then when he almost lost her . . . that fear could have devastated him.

Maybe if he cleared the air with everyone and told them the truth—maybe Gwyn would understand and be compassionate. That was one of her greatest strengths. She was so forgiving. Could it be possible to pursue her affections?

And then there was the matter of her younger sister. A memory of Sophia’s stinging last words haunted him. No. He didn’t have a chance. Even if Gwyn could forgive his deception, it was unlikely she’d want to take up with her sister’s rejected suitor. Once she knew the truth, Jeremiah wouldn’t stand a chance of convincing her of his heart. She might even believe he’d come here purposefully on the rebound—to get even with Sophia.

Clarence Novak appeared on the road in front of him. Did the man just stroll around all day? Didn’t he claim he was there to help his family?

Jeremiah caught up to him in several long strides. “Hello, Clarence.”

“Dr. Vaughan.” The man’s unusual emphasis on the title was interesting. “Out for a break?”

“No, Clarence, I need to check on Mr. Ellis. His wife is concerned he’s getting worse.” He tried to outstep the man, but Clarence was quick.

“How long are you planning on staying at the colony?”

Jeremiah pulled out his pocket watch, hoping Novak could take a hint. “I hadn’t planned on leaving.” The question made him pause. What was Clarence digging for?

“Nice watch. Family heirloom?”

“A gift from my grandfather.” No matter how fast Jeremiah walked, Clarence kept the pace. And he was entirely too nosy. “How about yourself?” Jeremiah said. “I hear you are quite the traveler.” Hopefully his travels would take him far away. Soon.

“Oh, I’ve got my eyes on some new prospects. But I quite enjoy myself here. Besides, Miss Hillerman and I would like to see more of each other. I wouldn’t want to leave before I pursued our feelings for each other.”

“Oh.” Jeremiah swallowed. He couldn’t be telling the truth. Gwyn? With him? “That sounds like a good plan. Does Gw—uh, Miss Hillerman share your love of traveling?”

Clarence chuckled. “Of course. What woman doesn’t? She’s been locked away in this hole for so long, she deserves to be spoiled like a real woman.”

Hole? Did Clarence just refer to this beautiful valley as a hole? Many of the colonists even called it heaven on earth and looked forward to their homes being situated in God’s most majestic little corner of the world. “I wouldn’t think she’d want to leave. She loves Alaska.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about Miss Hillerman.” The man stopped and turned to him. “I pray Mr. Ellis will be all right. Have a good afternoon, Doctor.”

There was that tone again. What was he implying?

The fact of the matter was simple: Clarence Novak was a creep. And if Jeremiah had anything to do about it, he’d make sure Novak didn’t get any closer to Gwyn.

The evening unfolded dim and gray, not at all like the bright sunny days they’d enjoyed recently.

Jeremiah sat at his desk making notes on the last two calls he’d made. His brain was weary and didn’t want to focus on medicine. It wanted to focus on Gwyn. He wanted to focus on her.

It amazed him that when he’d first arrived, his bitterness had caused him to think of her as plain. Sophia had been beautiful, yes, but on the outside. When he found out how cold and dark she was inside, it tainted any beauty he’d appreciated. But as he grew to know Gwyn, her beauty only increased. Her mind was sharp, her wit quick, and her heart large. These were things that meant much more than a pretty façade.

But then there was another problem. Gwyn was pretty. Very pretty. Those golden curls that she refused to cut into the fashionable bobs of the day were unruly and fascinating. And her eyes . . . a gray that changed with the intensity of her mood. Sometimes as light as silver, and other times, deep and stormy. He longed to stare into them.

Jeremiah shook his head. The reports wouldn’t write themselves. Besides, he couldn’t afford to feel anything for the lovely Gwyn Hillerman.

The wood floor creaked.

The very subject of his thoughts stood in the doorway, dripping, wrangling with her rubber boots.

Jeremiah jumped up and grabbed a couple of towels. “What are you doing up? You’re drenched.”

She shivered and took one of the offered towels. “Rain will do that.” Her tone belied her furrowed brow.

“It’s raining?” How had he missed that?

“I take it you’ve been lost in thought—” she glanced down at his work—“or those reports.”

He ran a hand down his face. “You’ve pretty much summed it up.” He stood and walked her to the fire. “You look chilled to the bone.”

“I usually don’t mind the rain. But now, I must admit, I feel frozen almost like it’s winter.” Gwyn peered around the clinic. “Have you seen my father? I thought he’d still be here.”

“He left a couple minutes ago to grab something to eat at the house. I’m sure he’ll be right back.” He touched her elbow. “And it’s no wonder, it’s not good for you to get a chill so soon after—”

“Nonsense.” She sat in a chair by the stove, towel-drying her hair. “You need help, don’t you?”

Stubborn woman. It fascinated him that she hated to have any attention on herself. “It’s been a long day and yes.” Jeremiah glanced at all the notes in front of him. “The sooner we get more help: doctors, nurses, supplies, more phones, sanitary conditions, and a vehicle would be nice—” he paused to grab a breath, hoping he hadn’t overwhelmed her—“the sooner we can wipe out some of these sicknesses.” His words gave him a thought. “But if I can’t even get the nurse we have to follow instructions, how can I hope that the people will?”

Gwyn gave him a weak smile. “You’re right, I should have stayed in bed. Then again, I’m tougher than you give me credit for.”

She put the towel aside, and her long blond curls tumbled down her back in a most alluring fashion. Jeremiah couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to run his fingers through that beautiful tangled mass. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as Gwyn continued to speak.

“There’s so much we need to help all these people, but I fear it’s going to be a while before your list comes to fruition.” She looked weary and stood up, rubbing her hands together. “I’ve lived here most of my life. It’s home. And I love it. But it’s hard to watch these people suffer. Especially the children.”

“Does that mean you plan on staying?”

Her eyebrows rose. “In Alaska? Of course! Why would you think differently?”

Jeremiah tried to keep his smile to himself. “Uh . . . no reason. You’re just young and beautiful, and I thought maybe you’d like to travel and explore the world.” After the words were out, he realized what he’d said. He wished he could snatch them back. The risk was far too great.

“No. I have no desire to travel or explore.” Her brow furrowed, a frown etched her lips. “I’m staying right here.” Gwyn slid her boots back on and headed out the door.

He stood and went to the window and watched her walk away. Had he upset her? He thought back to Clarence’s comments. He was the one who didn’t know everything about Miss Hillerman.

Despite his concern that Gwyn was miffed with him, Jeremiah couldn’t help but feel he’d won some sort of victory. Gwyn had no desire to leave Alaska. Not on her own, and certainly not with Clarence.

Her old wooden rocking chair creaked and groaned as she leaned back, waiting for the girls to return. Nasnana held an old worn Bible in her lap. There was an undercurrent in the colony that didn’t bode well. She’d spent the last hour praying for all the people. A little more than a month had passed since the colonists had drawn for their land tracts.

And she’d stayed away as much as possible. That Gertrude woman always did a good job stirring up the pot about “Indians” and their massacres, but time would heal wounds. Time would be the deciding factor. And over time, as Nasnana and some of the other native people showed them love and kindness, maybe she’d win them over.

Sadzi wasn’t as patient. She wanted to help all the time, wanted to teach the women about all the unique berries and plants, wanted to play with the children, wanted to mingle with other young women close to her age. But Nasnana held her back. Something in her spirit told her that patience would have to be used in abundance.

Sweet laughter drifted to her through the open window. She hadn’t heard the girls laugh together for some time. Especially after Gwyn’s near-drowning. And then life started moving forward at a rapid pace. Nasnana had been so busy helping the families that had been displaced by the flood that she’d hardly been able to do much more than offer Gwyn a hug in passing.

Gwyn and Sadzi walked in the door, smiles on both of their faces.

“Good morning, Grandmother.”

“Good morning, Nasnana.” Gwyn leaned down and kissed her cheek. “How was your prayer time?”

“Very productive.” She grabbed Gwyn’s hand and squeezed. “How have you been doing, my dear? You look thin and pale.”

“Well, I’m always pale, but I must admit, I often forget to eat.” She pulled the pins out of her curls, ran her fingers through her hair, and began to pin it back up. “Father is constantly on me about it—even more so since the flood—but he’s just as bad. We’ve been too busy to take time to eat. They’re planning on moving the clinic soon.”

“It makes me appreciate even more that you still make time to come for our Bible studies.” Nasnana patted the sweet girl’s arm. “Our journey through Psalm 139 has been precious to me.”

“Me too.” Gwyn sat across from her.

Sadzi brought a teapot from the stove. “Gwyn, catch us up on all the news in the town.”

“There’s so much going on. I think I told you that there’s been all kinds of mix-ups with shipments. Some of the construction workers they sent up don’t know what they’re doing, but I guess they were so desperate for jobs that they lied about their skills. One of the colonist’s homes has been torn down and restarted three times.”

“Oh dear.” Nasnana understood the people’s desperation, but the consequences for everyone involved were always difficult to bear.

“But many of the others are going at a rapid pace. It will take a lot to get everyone in a home by winter, though. Things have been very rough, but the majority of the people understand that pioneering is just that . . . rough. The reporters and photographers are often a nuisance. They want to chronicle every little thing that happens and every dispute, stating that ‘the American people want to know!’” Gwyn waved one of her hands in the air and rolled her eyes. “I don’t mind Mr. Schaleben too much. He seems to genuinely want the best for the people. And the children love posing for his photographs. Since he lives among them, he truly understands. The others, well, they come and go in their fancy suits with their fancy newsreels and cameras. And they like to focus on the naysayers.”

“I didn’t think there were many complaints. Most of the people I’ve met are happy to be here.”

“Oh, there are complainers all right. In fact, the latest is a group of a few that have been stirring the pot, so to speak. They wanted their complaints to be taken to the White House, even sent a telegram to Washington. So the president sent up Eugene Carr, who’s supposed to be the troubleshooter for the Federal Emergency Relief Administration. He’s the man that arrived the day the river flooded.”

“A troubleshooter?” Nasnana questioned. “What a title. A man who will shoot at troubles.”

“More like a man who will be shot at with complaints,” Gwyn countered.

“Complaints about what?” Sadzi chimed in.

“Oh, the prices at the commissary, the shortage of supplies, and the sickness. Most of the colonists want the agitators ousted. They don’t want to be ridiculed for coming to this country, for volunteering to pioneer. But even among those, there are people who are worried that some of the children might die.”

“Is it that bad?” Nasnana leaned forward, her heart aching.

Gwyn hesitated before she answered. “Yes, I’m afraid some of the cases are pretty severe. And there’s only so much we can do without adequate medical supplies. We need a hospital, desperately.”

“Well then, I will add that to our prayer list.” Nasnana wrote on a paper she kept tucked in her Bible.

“Grandmother, while you are at it, could you pray that Clarence would disappear and leave Gwyn alone?”

Nasnana looked up and caught Sadzi giving a wink to Gwyn. Her cheeks tinged pink.

“Sadzi, I told you that in private!” the blonde spit out through clenched teeth. “There are much more important things to pray for.”

“You want him to disappear? Is that a prayer request?” She poised her pencil over the paper, teasing Gwyn.

Both hands covered Gwyn’s face. When she let them down, her face was an even deeper shade of pink. “He annoys me to no end. Follows me whenever he gets the chance. Keeps asking me to go on a picnic with him. All he talks about is money and traveling and big cities and luxuries and how I should have all of it. It’s disgusting.”

“You mean, he’s disgusting,” Sadzi threw in behind her hand.

Nasnana tossed a scolding glance to Sadzi and then couldn’t help but laugh. Clarence Novak was disgusting. “I’m sorry, Gwyn. We shouldn’t be laughing about this.”

“I was hoping he’d get the hint at some point. I haven’t encouraged him. I don’t even like being around him. He seems so . . . shady.”

“What do you mean?” Nasnana’s own senses had been heightened around the man, but she wondered what Gwyn had observed.

“Have you ever noticed that he’s always completely clean? And yet, he talks nonstop about how much work he’s doing to help his family.” Gwyn held out her hands and turned them over. “And his hands. Not a callous or a splinter anywhere. His look more like women’s hands than mine do!”

Sadzi poured more tea for all of them. “I haven’t met his family. Are they nice people?”

“That’s another thing. Suzanne is a sweet Christian lady. But I never see her anymore. I never see William either.”

“That’s odd.” Sadzi bit into a cookie.

“And the worst part? I’ve seen Clarence talking with Gertrude Albany on several occasions. And she’s always on a rampage about Indians. Clarence knows how close I am to you, and yet I’ve seen him nodding and whispering to her.”

A disquiet grew in the pit of Nasnana’s stomach. She needed to temper this discussion. “It’s one thing to tell us why he’s bothering you, Gwyn, but entirely another to be gossiping. I’m not worried about Gertrude or her rumors. She has plenty of reason not to trust us, just as my people have reason to doubt the newcomers. But I’m willing to be patient. Please let it take the time that’s needed to build relationships of trust. Everything is new and overwhelming to these poor souls.”

“I’m sorry, Nasnana.” Gwyn bowed her head. “I’m just afraid he’s up to something. I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t either, dear. So maybe we need to add him to the prayer list.”

“That he would disappear?” Sadzi giggled and grabbed Gwyn’s hand.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Well, we’ll leave that in God’s hands. But we should at least pray for his soul.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The girls replied in unison.

“Now, how are your father and Dr. Vaughan?”

Pink flooded Gwyn’s cheeks again. She glanced at Sadzi. Apparently the two had already discussed the handsome young doctor. “Father is doing well, but I can tell he’s wearing thin. I don’t think he sleeps more than a couple hours at a time. Jeremiah as well. They both are working around the clock, it seems.”

Nasnana knew there was more. So she waited. Then prodded. “And?”

The young blonde peeked up through her curls. “And . . . he called me beautiful the other day but hasn’t said a word to me since. I’m so confused.”

The rumble of a truck nearing the cabin brought all three women to their feet. Nasnana peered out the window and watched one of the construction trucks barrel toward her front door. It came to an abrupt stop, and Jeremiah jumped out, leaving it running.

Something was terribly wrong.

“Gwyn! Gwyn!” Jeremiah yelled and banged on the door.

Nasnana opened it and welcomed him in.

“Please, there’s no time. I need all of you to come with me now.”

“What is it?” Gwyn voiced the question she assumed they all had on their minds.

“It’s Rose. She begged me to come get you. Dr. H. is with her right now.”

“Is she all right?” Nasnana put on her shoes and waved the girls to the door.

“It’s little Daniel. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”