Cotton Grass Lodge (10 page)

Edna and Harv lived at Cotton Grass Lake year round. He was a
sloper
, and commuted in his airplane.

“Sloper?” Duncan asked.

“North Slope,” Harv said, smiling. “You got a lot to learn. I fly our plane to Anchorage, fly commercial to Prudhoe Bay, work for two weeks and fly home the same way. There’s plenty to keep me busy for the two weeks I’m off.”

Edna shooed the terrier away from her feet. “I’m the local egg lady. My chicken business also produces enough meat for the lodge and the surrounding area, so I’m quite busy,” she said with an amused pout. “At least I hope the lodge is going to keep buying my eggs.”

Duncan nodded. “From what I can see the more the lodge can buy local the better off it is.” He thought again about the last invoice he’d gotten from Charlie’s Air Service. Not to mention the money going out for propane, groceries, and Nell’s charges for taxi fare.

He happily joined Harv and Edna for a brief tour of their homestead, and when Harv suggested they check out the plane, Edna rolled her eyes. “Oh, good grief, Harv can talk about his plane for hours. I’m going back to the house.”

Harv took off his cap and swatted her on the rump as she walked away. “You like the plane, too.”

“I like it.” She grinned. “I just don’t need to talk about it all the time. Don’t let my supper get cold, old man, fifteen minutes.”

When Duncan got back to the lodge four hours later, his mood was much improved. The far-reaching conversation, over dinner with neighbors, was not what he had expected. Edna and Harv were intelligent and remarkably well read. Their library was worthy of note should he ever have enough time to actually sit still to read, instead of fall into exhausted sleep.

Chapter 8

For the first time she could remember, Hanna was impatient with the flights for Charlie. It had been a long two weeks since she’d been to her cabin. Spring dashed head-long onto summer in Alaska, so she wondered how the new guy had made out since she’d seen him. Had he left? Had he burned the lodge down? Was he still as handsome?

When she got into the office at seven the schedule board was remarkably barren for this time of year. Hanna’s planned trip to Cotton Grass Lake was delayed by an early morning flight to Port Allsworth, their groceries and mail included the peeping of new chicks.

She flew back to Anchorage through the Lake Clark pass. As she flew, she tried to fix a name for her uneasiness. She liked her job, at thirty-six she was doing well financially. Charlie, the old coot, was undemanding as long as she took care of business. So, what was wrong?

Hanna landed and went into the office. “Hey, Dog, what’s up?” She sat on the office chair and spent a minute petting the gray-muzzled old dog who stood with her head in Hanna’s lap, eyes closed in ecstasy.

Charlie had found Dog on an abandoned airstrip sixteen years ago. Could it be? It seemed like only yesterday, and now the half-frozen husky pup was an old crippled dog having trouble wagging her tail.

“Don’t be nice to Dog, she’ll start expect’n it.” Charlie, sitting on the couch, snapped the newspaper as he changed pages. His voice sounded as tired as Hanna felt.

A stitch of apprehension wedged between leaving soon and remembering how long she’d cared about Charlie. “If you’ve only got the usual for Cotton Grass this week—” Hanna nodded toward the board on the wall. “—there’s no rush for when I go. Why don’t you let me buy you lunch? We’ll go someplace nice.”

“Nice?” Charlie answered with suspicion. “What are you going to do, quit on me?”

“No.” Hanna grinned. “I’m allowed to be nice to you. I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

“I ain’t gettin’ cleaner than I am right now,” Charlie grumbled. “But I will wash my hands.”

“Good,” she said. “Shut off the coffeepot while you’re in there.”

“Hurmp.”

Hanna loved this banter. She’d always known how to read Charlie. Perhaps being raised by two grandmothers instead of a regular family made her more tuned in. She watched his clean jeans and tidy work shirt emerge from under the greasy overalls.

“Have you got enough money for three dinners?” Charlie asked as he emerged from the bathroom. He always asked if she had enough money.

Hanna nodded. “I do. But you have to promise not to give Dog chicken bones.” She waited. “Promise.”

“Nazi.” Charlie reached down and thumped Dog on the shoulder. “What makes you think we’re going for chicken?”

“Because, every time we go out, we go to Vera’s Diner.” Hanna held the door for Charlie and the dog. “Make her sit in the backseat and no smoking in my car.”

“Nazi!”

****

A leap of pleasure filled Duncan later in the afternoon when he heard Hanna on the radio clearing her airspace.

He and Tom had just finished with the tedious four-hour chore of cleaning and dusting the wall above the hearth. Smoke and cob-webs clung to the moose and caribou antlers, picture frames, and the logs of the wall. It took two extension ladders and both Tom and Duncan to remove everything from the wall, clean it, and replace everything they took down. Of course it had required cleaning the stove pipe as well.

Tom carefully took the eight inch black pipe down from the stove and where it connected to the exterior chimney and rejoiced when he didn’t get any soot on the floor as he carried it outside.

“Holy shit.” Tom called five minutes later, “Duncan, come out here and look at this.” He stood beside the pipe where it rested on two sawhorses in the front yard.

Duncan went down the steps. “What?” The look on Tom’s face didn’t bode well for the stove pipe.

“You gotta add new stove pipe to the infinite list you keep. Look here.” He ran the spiraled stove-pipe brush into the tube clogged with soot and creosote. A foot into the pipe the steel spines of the brush went through a paper thin spot to the outside of the pipe. “Only the Gods kept this place from burning to the ground.”

Duncan got light headed for a moment thinking of the roaring fire he’d had the night before. “I guess we’re done for the day, this pipe won’t be going back inside.”

“Good plan,” Tom said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hefted the dead stove pipe. “I’ll take this to the dump-ditch on my way home.”

Nameless barked and leaped enthusiastically at the big stick Tom seemed to be carrying. When Tom dodged, black soot rained down across the puppy’s back. “It’s a good thing he’s your pain-in-the-ass damn dog.” Tom’s exasperation matched Duncan’s.

Tom gathered up two more sections of pipe and headed toward the trail behind the lodge, swearing at Nameless at every third step.

Fatigue flooded Duncan’s body, a good tired he had come to be pleased about since it meant another night of dreamless sleep. He’d had only a scattering of customers so far, and the next ones weren’t due until later this week.

The drone of an airplane got his attention. He drove the four-wheeler down the trail to the strip. Duncan warmed at the sight of Hanna where she squatted tying the plane down. “Hi, I’m glad you came back. I was hoping you knew when I ran Nell and Victoria off two weeks ago I didn’t include you.”

“Naw, besides, I live here. I just won’t ever eat lunch with you again.” Her emotionless face caught him off guard.

“But.” His blood thickened and pooled around his lungs.

Hanna’s laugh was warm, her face crinkled into a smile. “Gotcha.” She handed him a cloth bag with ‘CG Lodge’ stenciled on the side. “Mail.” She glowed in the golden afternoon sunlight, a halo of tiny flying insects circling her head.

In the tranquil evening, the flurry of hovering bugs diverted to Duncan and enveloped his head. He grabbed the bill of his cap and swatted. “Bless you!” Duncan opened the bag to make sure the newspapers were included. “I don’t care about the bills, but three day old news, now there is something to get excited about. Can I talk you into a cup of coffee or something?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“You’re an old-timer up here, and I didn’t get to talk to you at all last time. I guess I want to show off a bit. We’ve gotten a lot done.” He flushed in youthful enthusiasm.

She pointed at his cheek. “But it’s obvious how hard you’re working. Cleaned any stoves lately?”

Duncan wiped his hand across his face, and black soot smeared from his ear across his cheek to his hand. “Oh great, there goes the good impression I was trying to make.”

Nameless raced toward them when they approached the lodge, barking and racing in circles.

“Don’t touch him. He helped clean the stove, too.” Duncan pointed at the dog, “Knock it off—Bed!” The pup’s delirium deflated, and he headed toward the back porch. “That worked for a change.” He swept his arm ahead of them, and they went up the front steps.

After they fixed two cups of tea, Duncan and Hanna strolled and talked. Finally, he set a fire in the sauna, and they continued back into the lodge.

“Duncan, I’m impressed.” Hanna stood in front of the pipe-less stove. “The lodge hasn’t looked this clean in years. The clients loved Nell and Harry, but there’s a fine line between rustic and run-down. Whenever I asked if I could help, Nell would go into overdrive about how the clients had to take what they got.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” Duncan warmed with gratitude. He had worked hard, and it was nice someone noticed. Especially nice when Hanna noticed. “Would you stay for supper?” He glanced at his watch—ten o’clock. He laughed. “A late supper.”

“No.” Hanna gave a wan smile. “It’s been a long day for me, too. I have to go. I’ll check my shed. I think I have just enough eight-inch pipe for your stove. Instead of paying me, you can just replace what I give you.”

“Oh, thanks but you don’t have to—”

Hanna held up her hand. “Stop. That’s the way it works. Now, say thank you and leave it.”

Duncan sputtered and Hanna held her hand up again and smiled.

“Uhh, thank you,” he said, another lesson learned.

****

Late the next morning, Hanna met Duncan at the lodge with the eight inch black stove pipe. “I slept in,” she said. It didn’t happen often, but guilty pleasure elicited a little embarrassment. “Do you need anything from town? I have to make a quick run over to Willow. This is sort of a working weekend off.”

“I can’t think of anything except…” Duncan thought for a moment. “The fabric came for the kitchen doors, but I’m no seamstress. Do you know if someone up here has a sewing machine?”

Hanna heard his earnest question. He didn’t use an ounce of manipulation. Nice. “I think Edna has a machine we could borrow,” she said. “Of course you could broadcast tomorrow morning on the news to find someone else.”

“The news?” Duncan tilted his head just slightly and she found it quite charming.

“Haven’t you noticed about ten o’clock every morning on the C.B. there’s a flurry of chatter?”

“On channel twelve, right?”

“The news.” Hanna drew her mouth into a line. He had so much to learn. “June is coming, monitor daily and you’ll be happier for it. Gotta go fly, see you tomorrow.”

After lunch the next day, Hanna brought her tiny hand operated sewing machine. She hemmed the yards and yards of blue and white checked fabric Duncan had purchased to replace the curtains and cabinet covers in the kitchen.

Duncan joined her late in the afternoon. “Thank you so much for doing this,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Besides, you may be a good cook, and I’m going to expect dinner out of this deal. Here, hold this.” She stood up from the table and handed the end of a wide swath of fabric to him.

Together they worked for another hour hanging curtains and threading fabric on the springy hangers over the cabinets.

They laughed through a large serving of fettuccini alfredo and ended the evening watching the bon-fire and discussing politics.

Duncan found her to be a challenging and charming woman. Challenging and charming weren’t all the things he found to like about her, either.

As they sat enjoying the evening, a plane flew over and waggled its wings. Hanna waved back from her seat.

“Do you know everyone flying over this lake?” Duncan asked.

“Heavens, no.” Her laugh, robust and genuine made another inroad into his surprised pleasure in her company. “I’m just being polite.”

“Would you like another glass of ice tea?” he said.

“Thanks, but I’m floating now. I’ve got to get back. Early flight for me.” She stood and brushed the seat of her jeans. “If you think of anything make sure it’s at the plane before I leave at six.”

“So early?”

“It’s daylight. No rest for the wicked.” She smiled and swatted mosquitos. “I’ll leave the four-wheeler at the strip.”

“Okay, my hard-liner friend. I expect a rematch of this debate when you return.”

“You sure you can handle the pressure you bleeding-heart liberal?”

“Ha-I’ll be prepared next time.” Duncan was sorry to see her go.

Chapter 9

A woman’s screams slashed into the upstairs room Duncan was sleeping in. He rolled over. Five thirty, as in a.m., as in too damn early, as in what the hell could be wrong now? He threw the down comforter off and pounded down the stairs. Standing at the back door, clad only in cut-off sweatpants, his feet reminded him his slippers were still upstairs under the bed.

Adrenalin flooded through his body, “What’s happening?” Duncan demanded of the woman standing by the back door.

“It was huge and brown and it…at first I thought it was a bear.” The woman stuttered and laughed self-consciously from inside the mudroom door.

Duncan’s heart thundered in his ears when he pushed past her to look out. Big and brown and…“Moose,” he said

The tall cow pulled one of last year’s potted plants off the eve of the porch. The pot swung precariously from a mouth full of twigs still attached to the pot. It hit the ground with a thump, and the moose nosed it and continued to chew.

The guest clutched herself, bunching the oversized sweatshirt around her middle. A pair of man’s boxers peeked out from under the oversized sweatshirt. Her sleepy-eyed husband rounded the corner into the mudroom and slid into Duncan. All he had on were a pair of boxers. The red hearts scattered all over them matched the ones his wife wore. He slid an arm around his wife.