Summer of the Midnight Sun (6 page)

Leah crossed her arms. “That’s still Europe and not America. Not even North America.”

“But Russia is only a matter of a short distance by ship. Canada is next door. If Great Britain suffers, Canada will come to her aid. Do you not see how intricately we are all connected?”

“I thought it to be one big family feud,” Jacob threw in. “Didn’t I read that most of the heads of state involved are somehow related to each other? Maybe Leah’s right and they should just settle it amongst themselves.”

“But it would be no different than if your friends Karen and Adrik began warring with their children. The more intense the fight, the more damage done. Wouldn’t you want to help them put an end to their conflict?”

“I suppose, but it’s still seems a long way off,” Jacob answered, not sounding in the least bit upset by the matter. “By the time it comes to that, the war will be over.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, Jacob. Some issues—some people—will refuse to just back down and leave well enough alone. I wouldn’t count on this being simple. I believe we’ll see people fight to the last man if they are allowed to do so.” Leah didn’t care for the sounds of such things. “But it would have to take something big to involve America,” she said, trying to sound as though she believed it herself. Inside her heart, however, Leah feared Jayce’s comments more than she wanted to admit.

“Well, that’s part of the reason for the expedition as I mentioned. They are looking to whether we might make more detailed maps of the coast and the islands in the Arctic. We’re also to check for the feasibility of creating airstrips.”

“That seems out of place up here,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it will ever happen. You’ll never see planes in this territory; it’s too cold. They’d never be able to endure the harsh elements.”

“That’s hardly what the rest of the world believes, Jacob.” Jayce leaned back in his chair. Leah thought he looked rather smug. “Of course, the world also said that flight was impossible—that man was intended to keep his feet on the ground. You’ll see, my friend. Air travel will soon be upon us, and Alaska will be no exception. Flight will eventually take over as the main mode of transportation.”

“I can only imagine how that would connect us to the rest of America,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “Still, I find it impossible to imagine in a place that relies more on boats and dogsleds that airplanes would take over as the main means of travel, but I can tell by your enthusiasm that you don’t consider this lightly.”

“Indeed not. I’m rarely wrong, Jacob.” He laughed and added, “Maybe I should have said I’m never wrong. You’d do well to believe me.”

Leah had heard enough. As far as she was concerned, Jayce Kincaid was a visionary with no hindsight or understanding of the past.

You were wrong about me, Jayce. You were wrong about me
.

Jayce watched Leah walk away. The long tunic she wore, like a parka made out of cloth, kept her sealskin pants from seeming indecent. Most of the native women wore them, and Leah had apparently adopted the fashion. Jayce thought it marvelous. He’d seen missionary wives along the coast who still wore the cumbersome fashions of American housewives, but they were hardly appropriate for Alaskan winters or summers.

“There are some books on the shelf if you’ve a mind to read. I brought that stack of newspapers, too, but I think you’ve already read them all,” Jacob said as he settled into a chair with the Bible.

“Do you enjoy it out here—here at the end of the world?” Jayce questioned.

Jacob looked up. “It’s never seemed like the end of the world to me. It’s isolated, but the people are good. And it’s not as though we can’t move about if need be. I’ve even hiked out across the interior in an emergency. There’s always a way to get where you need to be—if you have the Alaskan spirit driving you.”

“I never figured you’d stay. In Ketchikan you seemed so miserable.”

“I guess I was. I wasn’t my own man—I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was growing up faster than the ideas would come.”

Jayce laughed and slapped his hand on the table. “And I had ideas faster than the growing up would allow for. We are a pair to be sure.” He smiled at his friend. “Have you given any more thought to my proposition?”

“Not much. I haven’t had a real chance to pray on it or to discuss it with Leah. I wouldn’t want to just up and leave her here—not without giving her some say in it. And I’m not sure it would be safe for her to stay alone.”

“So send her back to Karen and Adrik. I know she loves them—probably misses them too.”

Jacob nodded. “That she does. We’ve talked every year about her going for a visit. I think this year might be the best chance.”

“See, it would work perfectly. Put her on a ship for Ketchikan and head north with me. It wouldn’t take much persuading—I’m sure of it.”

Jacob shook his head and put his focus back on the Bible. “I wouldn’t bet on it. You think for some reason that you know my sister pretty well—but I’ve lived with her all of these years and I still can’t figure her out.”

Jayce said nothing to this. He really couldn’t answer without giving away the awkward feeling inside his gut. Seeing Leah had done something to him. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but he kept feeling an uneasiness that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, in the back of his mind he wondered whether there might be a chance to rekindle the feelings Leah had claimed to have for him so long ago.

“Has Leah never married?” he questioned, realizing too late that he’d spoken aloud.

“No.”

Jacob offered nothing more, and Jayce knew better than to press it further. Instead, he picked up his coffee mug and stood. “You want any coffee?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Jayce nodded, then spied the ball of paper and mug Leah had left behind. Hoping to be helpful, he grabbed up both and headed to the kitchen. He set both mugs on the counter and started to throw the paper into the stove. He paused, thinking of how Leah had been so absorbed in her writing.
Perhaps some of the letter can be salvaged,
he thought, knowing good paper could sometimes be scarce.

Jayce unfolded the balled-up letter and spread it against the hard surface of the wooden table. The words, for the most part, were blurred. The latter half of the letter, in fact, ran together so badly that it was impossible to really figure out the wording. He began to crumple the paper again until his own name leapt from the page.

. . . Jayce Kincaid has no effect on me . . .

The very presence of his name drove Jayce to better understand. A section of words were mangled in black ink and coffee. It made them impossible to read.

Every time . . . find him . . .

More blurring and run-together swirls before the letter ended with a somewhat promising statement.

I . . . feelings . . . him
.

He struggled to make reason of the cryptic message. Did she care or didn’t she? Was she telling Karen that she had feelings for him or that she didn’t? And why should it matter to him? He held the letter up against the lamp, hoping against all odds that it would reveal the answer to his questions. It didn’t.

Jayce glanced up, fearing Leah might walk in at any moment and realize what he’d done. He quickly crumpled the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. Leaning back, he tried to reason what it all might mean.

“You’re a mystery to me, Leah Barringer,” he whispered, “but I intend to solve this before I leave.” He smiled and raised his mug. “In fact, I believe I’ll rather enjoy unraveling this intrigue.”

Chapter Five

SEATTLE

H
elaina looked at the documents in her hand. “Isn’t there a ship heading to Nome sooner?”

“Lady, you’re lucky to be on that one. Travel north ain’t as easy as it is here,” a grumpy old man said from behind his ticket counter. “Ice is breakin’ up, but the storms are still a powerful threat. Especially in the Bering. It ain’t the kind of place for a lady—if you get my meanin’.”

Helaina paid him little attention. She was used to men taking one look at her refined appearance and concluding that she was insignificant or too delicate to handle real-world affairs. “Where might I purchase some supplies?”

The man looked her over with a smirk. “I wondered if you were going to try to make it wearing those fancy city doodads. You’ll freeze your backside off, pardon my sayin’ so, in that.” He sneered down his long nose at the sight of her best traveling suit.

“Well, it’s a good thing you aren’t responsible for me, then, isn’t it?” She gave him a look that froze him in place. “Good day.”

She left without getting directions to any reputable mercantile. She knew it would be best to move away from the dock area, but at the same time she felt confident the best supplies for the rugged Alaskan travel would be found here.

Walking to the north, Helaina couldn’t set aside her disappointment upon learning that the expedition team had headed to Vancouver the week before. Further investigation informed her that they were already on their way to Nome and would await her there. There was no other word or suggestion as to how she was supposed to get to Nome; rather she was left to figure out everything, including needed supplies, on her own.

Well, it wasn’t the first time she’d had only herself to rely upon. The smell of fish and rotting guts mingled with salty air and wet wood assailed her nose, but Helaina refused to react. Her mother had always taught her that a lady of quality might have to endure many hardships. The key to doing it well, however, was in controlling one’s reaction. A true lady would keep everyone guessing. And that was something Helaina felt she did quite well.

Helaina spied a sign in a waterfront store that read,
There’s still gold to be found in Alaska!
The advertisement further suggested that everything a prospector needed for the frozen north could be purchased inside. She decided the claim merited her attention and pushed open the door.

“Hello, ma’am,” a young sales clerk said, seeming quite surprised to see a woman. “Can . . . can I help”—his voice cracked and raised an octave before settling back down—“help you? You . . . lost?”

Helaina surmised the teenager was unused to dealing with women. “I’m not lost. I need to purchase goods for a trip I’m making to Nome in the Alaska Territory.”

“You’re going north?” He seemed rather stunned.

“Yes. I’m to meet my employer in Nome. I’m a part of an Arctic exploration team. I’ll need to have gear that will endure the harsh elements.”

The boy studied her a moment, then shrugged. “Most of our inventory is for men. I don’t know if we have anything . . . small . . . well, that is . . .”

“Oh, go in the back, Daniel, and let me help this poor woman,” a man said as he came from somewhere at the back of the store. The teen blushed furiously and made his exit without another word.

“Ma’am, I’m J. T. Brown. This is my store.” He extended a beefy fist in greeting.

Helaina liked his no-nonsense approach. “I’m Mrs. Beecham. I need to purchase whatever might be beneficial to me for a trip to Nome and beyond.”

“I heard you tellin’ the boy you were bound for the Arctic. It’s not an easy place. I’ve been there myself. Went whaling once.” He surveyed her stature. “I think I have some boy’s sizes that will fit you, but once you’re in Nome, you really should try to get some native-made clothes. See if you can’t locate a few of the Eskimo women and get them to sell you some fur pants and such.”

“I’ll make a note of it. Thank you.”

He seemed relieved that Helaina wasn’t offended. But why should she be? He was only offering wisdom borne out of experience. He wasn’t being condescending in his attitude, nor was he smirking at her as though she had no idea what she was talking about.

The man left quickly and reappeared with a stack of clothes in his arms. He placed these on the counter and went back out of the room once again. Helaina began to search the store for other items that she thought might be useful. She located a sturdy pair of boots that looked to be about the right size.

“You’ll want to waterproof them,” the man said, holding up a tin. “This stuff seems to work the best.”

“Then be sure to include it with my other things,” she said, leaving the boots on the counter with the clothes. “I’m also going to need a sturdy bag for packing. Do you have something canvas or leather?”

“I do indeed. I have a pack the sailors like to use. I think it will suit you well.” He went to the back shelves of the store and pulled down a large black bag. “This one seems to hold a great deal and endure travel. It’s guaranteed to be waterproof—they’ve put some sort of rubber coating on it. Don’t know much else about it.”

Helaina nodded her approval upon inspection. “It seems quite sound.”

The man nodded. “I’d like to suggest something else. It may sound quite forward, but I’ve heard good things from the men who’ve gone north, regarding these.” He went behind the counter and pulled out yet another piece of clothing.

“What is it?” Helaina asked.

It was the only time she’d seen Mr. Brown the least bit embarrassed. “Well, ma’am, they are . . .” He looked around quickly and lowered his voice, “Men’s theatrical tights.”

Helaina wanted to laugh at his whispered words. “Are they woolen?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been told when worn under your other clothing, they help to keep the chill off better than anything else.”

“I can’t imagine men being too comfortable wearing these,” Helaina said with a hint of amusement.

“They get plenty comfortable when faced with the alternative: freezing. Some even wear more than one pair at a time.”

Helaina nodded. “I’ll take them. In fact, give me three pair.”

Mr. Brown appeared quite pleased with himself. They discussed other items, finally settling the selections and the bill, with J. T. Brown’s promise to deliver everything to Helaina’s hotel by nightfall.

With this arrangement made, Helaina requested Brown secure her a cab. He was only too happy to help her. After all, she’d made it worth his while to have opened shop that day.

Once she was back at the hotel, Helaina pulled off her kid gloves and tossed them aside. Her hat quickly followed suit. She felt a little hungry but decided against lunch. There was simply too much to plan. While contemplating her schedule for capturing Jayce , she disrobed and settled into a dressing gown before spreading out all of her information. The sketch of was front and center. She found it helpful to study a man’s photograph while in pursuit of him. She wished there had been photos of Jayce , but even the English hadn’t been of help in this area.