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Valerie stared at the snowy, dismal landscape through Martha’s dirty windshield. Fat flakes floated lazily down around them as they made their way slowly along the road from the city back to the small Alaskan town that Valerie had grown up in. She’d landed in the city airport, hours away by road, and opted out of taking a small bush plane to the little town. The idea of being stuffed into one of those little flying cans was enough to make a person quake.
“You look like someone ate your lunch and popped the bag.”
Valerie nearly laughed at the silliness of the analogy, but she still felt bad enough about everything that it wasn’t hard to tamp down any humor.
“Just thinking.” She attempted a smile as she looked over at Martha. The woman had white along her temples, a compliment to the short gray curls that capped her head. Valerie was grateful for her and didn’t want her to feel that she didn’t appreciate the kind offer of staying with her for Christmas.
“You’ve told me about the ex-boyfriend, though I doubt you told me everything. ‘He was just a jerk’ doesn’t give one much to go on. And you told me about your apartment burning, but you haven’t said a thing about any pets or job or anything else going on in your life. Are you staying healthy?”
“Yes, I am. My job...” she trailed off. How humiliating would it be to tell her aunt she no longer had a job? The thought of telling Martha that she was not only homeless and without a significant other, but also jobless because she’d foolishly insulted her boss, was too much. “Is great, just nothing super exciting. You know, same good stuff as usual.”
Martha glanced at her, and Valerie got the feeling she didn’t fully believe her. Martha didn’t say anything about it, though, just changed the subject to that of her farm. “I agreed to have some of my animals in the live Nativity scene for church, so while you’re here, I’d love it if you’d be able to help prepare and train the animals for it.”
Valerie kept the grimace off her face. She’d lived a beautifully clean life with no animal fur, pristine white carpet, and decidedly no animal smells up until now. It would be hard to give that up, but she couldn’t deny this small act of help her aunt requested.
“Sounds great.” It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this middle-of-nowhere place, she thought. “How are you doing these days?”
“Life is good. I keep busy, but lately sometimes, that house just seems too big, with only me there.” Martha shrugged, but Valerie got the feeling that there was more to how she felt, and the woman was too stubborn and independent to admit it.
When it became clear that she wouldn’t expound any more, Valerie asked the dreaded question, wondering what she was about to get thrust into. “What animals do you have these days?”
“A whole passel. I have goats, some mini horses, a few donkeys, Marlin the Mule, Randy the gelding, chickens, bunnies...” While her aunt went on, Valerie tried not to think about jumping out of the truck, but the more Martha talked about her bustling farm, the more tempting it was.
“That’s a ton of animals. How do you possibly do it all?” Valerie stared at her, part in curiosity, part in horror. She couldn’t imagine being in charge of so many other lives.
“I have a couple of teenage neighbor boys that come help after school during the week, but some days it is a bit much.” Martha’s mouth turned down for an instant, and Valerie wondered if maybe it was becoming too much. Martha had always been active and a strong character, but she did most everything alone, and if she had a lot of animals to maintain, Valerie could imagine it would get more and more difficult.
Not sure how to touch on the subject, or even if it was her place, given how long it had been since they’d even spoken last, Valerie changed the subject.
“Um, what’s a gelding?”
Martha laughed. “Girl, you grew up on a farm out here!”
“I know, I know. I’ve tried to wipe all remembrance of it out of my mind.” She’d done everything possible to change herself and forget where she’d come from.
“Well, it seems to have worked. A gelding is a male horse that can’t sire foals—baby horses.”
"That’s right, I remember. A mare is a female horse, and a stallion can sire foals, but is super dangerous because he has all that testosterone still.”
Martha was nodding. “Pretty accurate. Some stallions can be nice, but usually, they’re high strung and can be aggressive.”
As they finally pulled up the long snowy drive to the house, snow crunching under the tires as they came to a stop, Valerie was surprised at how familiar it felt. With the exception of some weathering, everything looked strikingly the same as when she’d left at eighteen—the log cabin-style house, with the rectangular wood deck that would hold chairs in the summer for friends to talk and laugh, and the pretty and traditional-looking red barn with white shutters that stood a good several yards from the house.
They both got out of the truck and Valerie inhaled deeply the rich scent of the smoke ushered out of the chimney from the woodstove. She reached back inside and pulled out her backpack. It was stuffed with quickly purchased changes of clothing and necessities since she hadn’t had a great amount of time to shop. The jacket she had that worked so well in the Colorado cold wasn’t enough to stop the biting cold around twenty degrees, plus the ever-present wind chill. Her pants seemed to freeze as soon as she got out and a shiver wracked through her. She hoped Martha didn’t want to show her around the farm right now.
When she looked up, she saw Martha scrutinizing her over the hood of the truck. “Did you bring anything warmer and sturdier than that little fancy-dancy jacket? The animals don’t care how you look, and I’m worried that you seem cold.”
Valerie looked down at her jacket. It wasn’t fancy to her, just a plain maroon-colored puffer.
“No, this was fine in Colorado.” She knew it was a lame justification.
Martha didn’t say anything, just turned on her heel and strode to the door. Valerie followed her up the steps to the porch.
Inside, Valerie stilled, letting the door close lightly behind her as her eyes drifted close and she took deep breaths, the scent taking her back to her childhood. Hiding out here at Martha’s place with a good book to escape all the never-ending work her father wanted her to perform and the dreary weather, kissing her high school sweetheart in the barn here for the first time...
She opened her eyes and found herself alone in the arctic entryway. Martha had shut the first door, and Valerie unzipped and eased her brown-heeled boots off and hung her jacket up before venturing into the second, open door into the house.
She found Martha in the kitchen, writing something on a sticky note. Looking around, taking in the old wood cabinetry that had been crafted out of pallets, the worn leather couches, a few odd wood sculptures Martha had taken a shine to—it all seemed smaller than she remembered.
“How does it feel to be back?” Martha didn’t look at her, just pulled mugs out of a cupboard and set a kettle of water on the stove to heat.
“Strange. It’s been so long, and yet it feels like I just left.” She fingered an afghan draped on the back of the couch. She’d spent so much time wrapped in it during cold winter days, many times sharing it with her high school boyfriend and first love. She smiled at the memory.
“I’m glad you got to finally come back.”
Valerie didn’t comment. Only a series of awful events could have brought her back here, and she didn’t want to dwell on them today. Or tell her aunt about them. She couldn’t bear the thought that anyone back here would think her life somewhere else was anything less than perfect.
“Tell me more about you.” Valerie propped a hip against the countertop and fiddled with one of the mugs.
“Oh, well, the animals are good company, but since my boyfriend died, it’s been a little lonely out here by myself. The one-sided conversations I have with the animals aren’t as stimulating as getting a response.”
Valerie bit her lip, sorry she hadn’t called her aunt more. Maybe she would feel less lonely if she had, and Valerie would have known she had a boyfriend. The thought was strange, that her independent aunt had dated. Even independent people got lonely, she supposed.
“You know,” Martha continued, giving her a mischievous side glance, “your old boyfriend still lives here. Owns a big ranch and has turned into quite the hunk.”
Valerie almost choked. “Damon?”
Martha chuckled. “Glad you still remember his name. You only were in love for the entirety of your high school experience and convinced you’d go to college together, get married, and have two adorable children. Or was it three you wanted?”
“It was two, and I wanted to call them June and Jeremy,” Valerie remembered. All of those dreams as a child in love seemed so silly and inconsequential now. Adult life beat the dreams out of a person. With a bat. With nails sticking out of it.
“That was a big sigh.”
Valerie’s brows knit, not understanding what Martha was referring to.
Martha expounded at the confused look. “You sighed.”
“Oh, yeah. I was honestly just thinking that becoming an adult is much less wonderful than what we all expected and hoped for when we were younger.”
This time Martha frowned. “Adult life can only drown a person’s dreams in responsibility and fear. But we as people have an opportunity with the choices we make and the direction we put ourselves on to shore up our boats and not let any more, or as much, water pour in.”
She couldn’t disagree. But how did a person change direction in their life when all the circumstances seemed to be against them?
Valerie was relieved when Martha dipped into the fridge and changed the subject. “I know you probably haven’t eaten in a while, and I’d prefer to make you a wonderful smorgasbord of food for your first dinner here, but it’s getting late, and I have a casserole prepared. Takes fifteen minutes to bake. Are you hungry?”
At the mere mention of food, Valerie’s stomach rumbled, prompting a laugh from Martha.
Gratefulness washed over Valerie. She may have not wanted to come back to this place, but in having Martha, she had more than a lot of people had.
“Oh,” Martha exclaimed when Valerie suddenly stepped forward and hugged her. She gave a big hug back, rubbing Valerie’s back like a patient parent.
“I’m so thankful for you.” Valerie stepped back and looked at the ceiling to try and stem the tears threatening.
“You’ve had a long day of travel. Take your tea and go rest on the couch. I’ll be there as soon as I put this casserole in.” Martha shooed her and Valerie did as she was bid, settling into the worn leather.
She closed her eyes briefly, but that was a mistake. Visions of her sitting exactly here, snuggled up to her boyfriend, Damon, came to her. She opened her eyes, pushing away the images, and sighed wearily. She was tired, but less from the long series of flights and more from the emotional toll the cavalcade of problems had taken.
She let her head fall back and gazed up at the beams supporting the arched ceiling until a knock at the door made her jump, realizing she’d been close to dozing.
“Would you get that?” Martha’s muffled voice came from upstairs. She must have disappeared while Valerie was drifting off.
“Sure.” Valerie headed to the door. It wasn’t a busy area, that was for sure, so she found herself wondering who was there. More than likely, a neighbor had gotten stuck in a ditch, thanks to the ice covering the road, and was looking for someone to help them. Her dad had to help several times when she’d been a kid.
Or what if it was...no, he wouldn’t show up here, at Martha’s house. Besides, he had probably moved on and was married with children. But what if that wasn’t true? The idea made her stomach churn—whether in excitement or distress, she couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Even mulling over those thoughts didn’t prepare her for the man who stood in front of her when she swung the door open.