Brides of Alaska (22 page)

August gazed across the valley where rows of tents had been erected to house the army. Beyond these were olive drab vehicles and heavy construction equipment. The entire landing buzzed with activity while soldiers and civilians rushed to accomplish the business of the day.

After questioning one of the passing soldiers, August made his way to the tent of the commanding officer.

“You need to speak with the area supervisor of the US Public Roads Administration,” the officer told August. “I'm certain, however, that you won't be idle for long. We can use every man we can get.”

“Glad to hear it,” August said and got up to leave. “I'm anxious to get to work.”

“Then you're in the right place,” the man said from behind his makeshift desk. “You can find the supervisor at the airfield. While we're clearing this path, we're also laying out new landing strips. Just follow the river to the crossroads and turn right. It's just a half mile or so from there. Like I said, you shouldn't have any trouble getting a job.”

“Thanks again for your help,” August said and left in search of the airfield.

As August walked the short distance down the river to the crossroads, he noticed how different the land was from his native Nome. The fertile valley made Nome seem barren. Tall spruce, fir, and pine weaved a rich green pattern across the land. Wildflowers and carefully tended gardens were visible reminders of the sun's power in a land that enjoyed over eighteen hours of light each day.

August had already been told of cabbages weighing nearly forty pounds and of cucumbers that were longer than a man's arm and nearly as wide around. It was a land of many wonders, and August was only beginning to learn of its richness.

The hike to the airfield did him good, and August breathed deeply of the storm-chilled air. All morning, thunder had rumbled in the distance, but the storm seemed to hang in suspended indifference over the snowcapped mountains.

As August approached the airfield, he discovered that it was hardly more than a cleared path. At one end a windsock had been erected on a pole, and at the other end several tents and wooden buildings stood in sorry contrast to the grandeur of the landscape.

“Excuse me,” August said as he approached a mechanic. The man was working on a large tractor, cursing and throwing tools as he did so.

“Whadyawant?” the man asked, garbling the words together.

“I wondered where I might find the supervisor for the Public Roads Administration,” August replied.

“Over there,” the man said, motioning to the nearest tent.

August thanked the man and walked toward the tent. Suddenly, an older man charged out, nearly colliding with August.

“Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What can I do for you?”

“I'm looking for work on the road,” August explained.

“We can use you,” the man said enthusiastically. “Come on inside and we'll talk. Have you any particular job experience that might help us decide where to place you?”

“I can operate most of the machinery,” August admitted. “I helped to build roads in Nome.”

“So you know the problems we're facing with the permafrost.” The man continued without waiting for August to reply. “We have approximately eighty days between frosts and little more. Even at that, a foot beneath the surface the ground is always frozen solid.”

“I know the dilemma well,” August said.

“The army is in charge of the road, although the Roads Administration has some control because we work in cooperation with one another. Right now, a big part of our civilian effort is aimed at meeting the need for a bigger airfield.

“Our problem is the complications with ground thaw and boggy surface water. Do you think you can render any new thoughts on the matter? With you being an experienced road builder in these conditions, I think you might have a suggestion or two that we haven't considered.”

“I'd be happy to offer whatever knowledge and experience I have. I'm too old for the army, or I'd be off defending our country in the war, so I'm open to whatever you have for me,” August answered.

“Great. You can start tomorrow. Be here at six and I'll show you around.”

“I'll be here,” August said as he followed the man outside. “Where can I find sleeping accommodations?”

“That's a good question,” the man said as he thoughtfully considered the matter. “I take it you didn't bring a tent with you.”

“Nope,” August said with a sheepish grin. “I figured you folks were more civilized over here.”

“Don't include me in the folks from these parts. I'm from Oklahoma, and this country's a whole sight different from what I'm comfortable with. Your best bet is to ask around town. Some of the folks are bound to have an idea.”

“I guess that'll have to do,” August said with a nod.

“Wish I could offer you more help, but I've only been here a week, myself.”

“No problem. By the way, I'm August. August Eriksson.”

“Good to meet you,” the man said and extended his hand. “I guess we're a little lax on formalities around here. I'm Ralph Greening, the area supervisor for the US Public Roads Administration.”

August shook the man's hand, and after renewing his promise to return at six the next morning, he made his way back to town.

At the crossroads, August noticed that the storm had dissipated and moved to the east. The clouds cleared out to make the vibrant colors of the landscape come alive.

August enjoyed the breeze through his dark hair and the scent of pine as it penetrated his senses. He marveled at the blackness of the glacier silt dirt and wondered at the stories he'd heard of a glacier's ability to physically move its location as much as ten feet a day.

Before he turned to head back to town, August paused long enough to glance down the picturesque winding road.
It might be a good place to call home
, he thought.

A child's shrill scream filled the air and caught August's attention. He listened again, thinking it came from the direction of town, but soon realized it came from down the road in the opposite direction. The intensity of the child's cry for help sent August in a full run down the riverbank.

Gerald Hogan stood on the small wooden bridge that crossed the river nearly a quarter of a mile from his home. “Help! Help!” he screamed. “My brother can't swim.”

August arrived in time to see a small, brown-haired child slip beneath the churning water. Without thought for his own safety, August rushed into the river and swam with the current to catch up to the flailing form.

The icy water bit into August's skin as he maneuvered himself better to take hold of the little boy. He stretched out his hand as the child came within reach, only to hit a boulder. The impact sent him careening away.

August knew he'd have to fight with all his strength to once again reach the drowning boy. He lunged forward in the water and grabbed hold of the boy's collar, pulling the child back against his chest.

Fighting the current, August moved toward shore, where the water was more shallow. He pulled the sputtering, crying child with him. Once he reached the riverbank, August fell back against it, breathing hard. Every muscle in his body ached from the stress and cold, but the child was crying and that meant he was alive.

“Are you my daddy?” Gerald asked from overhead.

“What?” August asked in surprise. Drenched and freezing, he was certain he'd misunderstood the boy's question.

“You are my daddy!” Gerald yelled with exuberance. “Mommy! Mommy!” He ran off in the direction of home before August could stop him and set him straight.

Getting to his feet and cradling the cold, crying boy to his chest, August followed in the direction Gerald had disappeared.

“Mommy, come quick. It's Daddy!” Gerald yelled as he ran through the roadhouse's front door.

Beth came rushing from the back room. “What are you saying, Gerald?”

“Phillip fell in the river, and Daddy jumped in after him.” The excitement in Gerald's voice left Beth little doubt about the truth of his statement.

“Take me to where Phillip is,” Beth said without thought of reprimanding the disobedience of her sons. “Hurry, Gerry. Take me to your brother.”

“He's all right, Momma,” Gerald said as he led the way. “Daddy came back. Daddy saved Phillip!”

Beth shook her head, unable to understand. “Daddy is in heaven,” she said as she took hold of Gerald's eager hand.

“I know, but you said this was heaven,” Gerald stated. “Remember? You said this was heaven when we moved here. I knew my daddy would come home.”

Beth's heart ached. How could she explain the misunderstanding to her excited five-year-old? She was torn. She had to assure herself that Phillip was safe and alive, but she was also concerned that Gerald accept the truth of his father's death.

Taking her eyes from her son, Beth lifted her gaze to see a dark-haired man approaching down the road. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart beat faster. From a distance, she could almost believe that JB was walking toward her.

Beth stopped in her tracks, while Gerald pulled at her arm. “Come on, Mommy. It's Daddy and Phillip,” he insisted.

Beth let go of Gerald and held her hand to her throat. She paled at the ghostly image of her husband. The same dark hair and medium build. The same self-confident stride. Pushing aside such thoughts, Beth rushed forward to take Phillip.

“Daddy saved Phillip from the river,” Gerald announced.

Phillip had wrapped his arms around August's neck and, as Beth reached out to take him, Phillip resisted.

“No. Want Daddy,” he said firmly.

Beth looked into the dark eyes of the man who'd saved her child. She wanted to explain, to say something that would answer the question in the man's eyes, but words wouldn't come.

“You're freezing,” Beth finally managed. “Come with me, and I'll get you something dry to wear.”

August nodded and followed Beth back to the roadhouse. She paused to open the door with trembling hands, allowing August to pass through with Phillip. “Thank you,” she whispered as August moved only inches from her.

He turned his face to meet her pale blue eyes. He saw the concern for her child and something else. August began to realize that he represented an image from her past.

“You're welcome,” he whispered.

P
hillip refused to be fussed over, and Beth watched in silent concern for signs of complications. The boy seemed fine, however, and the only real dilemma was how to explain to him that the man to whom he clung so affectionately wasn't his father.

Beth moved uncomfortably around the room as she built up the fire in the stove and retrieved warm towels for August and Phillip. It was hard to allow the stranger such an intimate role in her son's life, but at the moment she didn't know what else she could do.

“I must apologize for my sons' behavior,” Beth finally said, noting the confused expression on August's face. “Their father was killed last year in the war. They have a misconception about his coming back, or, well, that's not really where the misunderstanding occurred, but it's a long story.”

She reached out and pried Phillip from August's lap. “I can offer you a robe while your clothes dry,” Beth said, turning to leave the room. “I'll have Gerald show you where you can change.”

August nodded and watched as the petite woman placed a kiss on her son's forehead. He noted the relief in her eyes and the gratitude. He admired the way she handled herself in the midst of the crisis and the tender way she mothered her children. He was so absorbed in watching her as she left the room that he barely heard Gerald's little voice as he instructed August to follow him.

The boy offered August the robe and turned to leave. “I'm glad you came home, Daddy. I missed you.”

“Son, I'm not your daddy, but if I were, I'd love having a big strong boy like you,” August said with a smile.

“You're not my daddy?” Gerald questioned.

“No,” August said offering the boy his hand, “but I'd like to be your friend. I just moved here and I don't have any friends. Would you be my friend?”

Gerald wrinkled his forehead as he often did when considering something important. “I wanted you to be my daddy. You look like my daddy.” He paused in thoughtful contemplation before adding, “I guess I can be your friend.”

“I'd sure like it,” August said as he pulled the wet shirt from his body. “Now why don't you go see if you can give your mommy some help while I change out of these clothes.” Gerald nodded and left August to contemplate the situation.

“Momma,” Gerald said as he came into his bedroom.

Beth looked up from where she was putting dry clothes on Phillip. She'd already checked his body for injuries that had been missed before, but other than a few scrapes and bruises, Phillip had fared rather well. God had certainly been watching over him, even sending the stranger who so closely resembled JB.