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“I’m sorry.” Giselle was a quick study. She looked remorseful as she shook her head. “You must be exhausted. It’s just that I’m curious about those stories you mentioned. Will you tell me more?”
Wasn’t her life goal to bring awareness and knowledge to the world about her culture? Alicia nodded. “I guess we could talk for a while, if your father is agreeable.”
“As long as you are.” Jack waited for Alicia’s nod. He gave her a quizzical smile before he rose and moved across the aisle.
Giselle sat down in the seat he vacated. She fiddled with her hands for a few moments before she looked at Alicia. “My mother would have been furious if she’d heard me be rude,” she admitted.
“And you want to get back at her for dying, or something?” Alicia frowned.
“No.” Giselle shook her head.
“Your father then?” And here she’d thought preteens would be easy to understand. Alicia took a shot anyway. “You blame your dad.”
“For Mom’s death?” Giselle frowned and shook her head again. “I don’t blame him but—”
“You want him to pay,” Alicia said in sudden understanding.
“I want my life back the way it was,” the girl said fiercely with a sideways glance at her dad, who had his nose buried between two black covers. “I want my mom.”
“I know you do. But that isn’t going to happen, Giselle, and I think you know it.” Alicia kept her tone gentle. “I doubt your dad likes the way things are any better than you, but don’t forget he lost someone, too. I’m sure he’s doing the very best he can.”
“It’s not enough.” Tears filled Giselle’s dark eyes. “Aunt Laurel says I need to talk to God about it, but I’m mad at God, too.” She wrapped her arms around her middle and thrust out her chin. “I feel mad at just about everyone.”
“I understand.” Alicia laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Maybe this won’t help much right now, but things will get better. Eventually. God has wonderful things planned for you.”
“You think?” Giselle stared at her, her big brown eyes begging for confirmation.
“I know. There’s a verse in Psalms that I sometimes repeat to myself. It says, ‘Weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning.’”
“My mom had something like that written in one of her diaries,” Giselle murmured. She was silent for a long time before she brushed away a tear and rose. “I really do want to hear your stories, Alicia, but maybe you and I could talk another time. Excuse me.” Then she scooted across the aisle.
“I don’t know what you said,” Jack said when he eventually returned to the seat beside Alicia. “But thank you. Giselle apologized to me.”
“Don’t thank me. You have a lovely daughter.” Alicia shared a smile with him, but it lasted a second too long and that made her stomach clench. This man had an odd effect on her and she didn’t know why. She ducked away from his gaze. “We’re coming into the station,” she said. “Would you mind giving me my things you put up top? I’ll pull out my sweater and try to stuff the packages into the backpack so you can have your bag back.”
“Keep it. You can return it next time we see each other,” he said. Once the train stopped, Jack rose, lifted down her bags and handed them to her. “I’m looking forward to working with you on that sod house, Alicia.” His blue gaze sent a tiny spark wiggling up her spine.
“Me, too.” Funny thing was she meant it.
Alicia stepped off the train and quickly made her way through the station and outside, anxious to get away from Jack’s disturbing presence so she could figure out her odd reaction. A soft spring wind blew across her skin, chasing away the odd tremors she’d felt when she stood so close to him. The fresh air revitalized her. How wonderful to come home.
Then she remembered. Mr. Parcet.
After a furtive glance over one shoulder Alicia hurried toward her shop, checking every so often to be sure he wasn’t nearby. Of course he wasn’t, she chastised herself. He hadn’t been on the train. But the worry clung nonetheless.
It was silly, but Alicia gave a sigh of relief as she unlocked the store door and stepped safely inside. She turned the sign to Open, switched on the lights and then strode to the back, where she set down the bag Jack had lent her.
She climbed the stairs to her apartment above the shop, pausing to toss her backpack into her bedroom and wash the tiredness from her face. After snatching a carton of juice and a muffin from the fridge, she hurried downstairs, eager to unpack her wares. She forced herself to eat slowly as anticipation built about the treasures she’d picked up on her trip.
Alicia had barely removed the first box when the door opened.
“Giselle and I are going out to Lives tonight for supper,” Jack said, holding up his phone. “Laurel says you’re welcome, too.”
“That’s kind of you but perhaps another time,” Alicia declined.
“Okay. See you.” Jack raised his hand in a wave then left as quickly as he’d come. Alicia ignored her accelerated heartbeat as she dragged her gaze off his retreating figure.
What was wrong with her?
After one last sip of juice she washed her hands, then tenderly pushed away the protective tissue paper so she could lift out the first treasure. In her palms she cradled the chiseled figure of a woman with a baby papoose strapped to her back. Mother and child. Alicia let her mind drift back almost ten years.
Her son. Even now the scent of him returned, soft, sweet, a miracle. Tiny, delicate limbs, so small yet so perfectly formed. Her heart hiccupped as she remembered one pink finger reaching up to brush her cheek, as if he knew who she was, as if he was asking her to rethink her decision to give him away.
Tears rolled over her cheeks as the sadness Alicia had kept tamped down would no longer stay buried. She hated everything that brought him into being, but she’d never hated him. She couldn’t. He was beautiful, innocent and so full of promise. He didn’t deserve hate. He deserved love, a chance to push his way into the world, to prove that everything was not dirty and evil and messed up. He deserved happiness. Alicia had known she couldn’t give him that.
“Alicia?” Jack stood in the doorway again, staring at her. How was it she hadn’t heard the tinkle of the bell signaling the opening door?
She turned away, scrubbed a hand across her cheek then set the figure carefully in the box before she looked at him. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?” he asked in that already familiar low, rumbling voice.
“Fine. Just touched by the beauty of this piece.” She glanced at the sculpture, then folded her hands together lest he see their trembling. “Is there something you need?”
He cleared his voice but said nothing. His scrutiny continued. Finally she forced herself to look directly at him.
“I just wanted to tell you that I think it’ll take me at least a week of steady focus on the hotel before I can even think about working on the sod house.” He sounded hesitant. Was he regretting his offer of help?
“That’s fine,” she said to give him an out. “It’s only May. The kids won’t be finished school until the end of June anyway. There’s plenty of time.”
“Oh.” His blue eyes searched hers with an intensity she couldn’t stand.
Alicia rushed to remove the other boxes from the mesh bag. Then she walked toward him, holding it out. “Thanks for lending me this.”
“You’re welcome.” He took the bag from her. “I know it’s none of my business and this probably isn’t the time, but I’ve been wondering how you first came to Churchill.”
“I came here looking for someone,” she said after a moment of quick thought. She could hardly tell him she’d been following a lead Nancy’s private investigator had found regarding her child. It didn’t matter anyway. “I didn’t find them.”
“But you stayed anyway?” he said, one eyebrow raised.
“After some persuasion.” She needed to frame her words carefully so she didn’t give too much away. “Do you know Lucy Clow?”
“Small woman, white-haired? She and her husband were missionaries to the Inuit?” he muttered, his forehead pleated. “I think she helps Laurel’s cook at Lives sometimes.”
“Lucy helps everyone, whether they want it or not,” Alicia said with a grin. “Anyway, an older couple owned this store, but they wanted to take a trip to see their son in Australia. Lucy was their bookkeeper. She suggested I help here until they returned. She showed me how things worked and got them to fix up the rooms above for me to live in.”
Her home. Alicia still savored the small sanctuary she’d found. But she could hardly tell him that.
“So they didn’t come back?” Jack drawled.
“Oh, yes. But just long enough to pack. They moved to be near their son. The community didn’t want the store to close because it was such a good tourist stop. Since the owners wanted to leave, they and the community worked out a no-interest loan for me to buy the store.” She fiddled with an arrangement on a side table. “A couple of friends staked me and Lucy helped me fill out government grant forms. And here I am.” She held out her arms. “This is my third year running Tansi.”
“Good for you.” Jack kept staring at her for a long time. Alicia shifted under that intense stare, relieved when he checked his watch. “Giselle will kill me. I told her I’d be back with the truck to pick up our stuff. That was ages ago. See you.”
Alicia nodded and held a smile in place until the door closed behind him. Then she let out a sigh and pushed away all tantalizing thoughts of the handsome policeman as she continued unpacking her treasures in between clients.
When her last customer had left, she went into the back room and started the coffeemaker. She glanced at the wall clock and sent a quiet prayer heavenward for Nancy and Harold Runningbear. They’d taught her to tell time and do basic addition and subtraction. Without them...she wouldn’t think about that. But even Nancy hadn’t been able to teach her to read or write beyond the most basic level. Alicia was sure it was because there was something wrong with her.
If only...
Alicia shook off the nagging thoughts. More than anyone, she knew how pointless it was to wish the past had never happened.
Focusing her mind on her work, she noticed it was almost three o’clock. Eli, a boy from Lives Under Construction who helped out at Tansi after school, would arrive in about twenty minutes. Alicia needed to decide what she wanted on the tags for her new items so he could write them up, which meant she’d have to think of another excuse for not doing it herself. Being illiterate was bad enough, but keeping it a secret was even harder. And she had to keep it under wraps, or else she’d risk becoming the town’s laughingstock or activate worry that she might not be able to repay the community loan.
She regretted now that she’d let someone else do her homework in school, that she’d allowed herself to believe that quitting school to live on the streets was an option. When Nancy and Harold had taken her in, they’d helped her see she could start over, make something of her life. But Mr. Parcet’s attack had made returning to the special literacy classes impossible. She hadn’t been able to go back there, couldn’t be anywhere near him or any other man without panicking. Then she’d learned she was pregnant.
How ironic that she still thought of him as Mr., a respect unworthy of him. But to think of him otherwise was to admit he had a personal part in her life. Alicia couldn’t allow that. Nor could she again relive those terror-filled moments.
She wasn’t that dumb fifteen-year-old girl anymore. Look how far she’d come in ten years. She had her own business to run. She had a life. She was stronger and more determined than ever. She could figure out a way to protect her child, too. Somehow.
Alicia picked up the picture Lucy Clow had left on her desk. Sweet Lucy did the books for Alicia’s business but she also ran the store whenever Alicia was away. Though Lucy and her husband, Hector, were retired missionaries to the Inuit, they were by no means retired. Lucy acted as part-time church secretary, frequently helped out at Lives Under Construction and stepped in anywhere else in Churchill where she saw a need.
In Alicia, Lucy obviously saw a need. Though Alicia had never confessed, Lucy seemed to know that Alicia couldn’t read much and she made allowances. One of those allowances was the pictures she left for Alicia, to apprise her of something. This one seemed to be saying that Jim Deerfoot had more antler carvings to sell. That was good because Alicia’s stock was low.
Lucy’s presence at Tansi yesterday meant that everything in the store had been thoroughly dusted, the sales records updated and the storeroom organized in extreme detail. Tomorrow Lucy would stop by and explain the accounts, what had sold, what was in the bank. It was her assistance that kept Tansi in the black. Lucy was like a revered grandmother in Alicia’s heart. Alicia adored the sprightly woman whose faith in God held strong and firm in the face of hardship.
Lucy had even made the upstairs apartment glow. The woman loved to clean and organize. She’d done such a good job while Alicia was away that all she needed was a few groceries. She’d just finished making a mental list when Eli sauntered in.
“Hey,” she greeted. “How are you?”
“Awesome.” Eli’s attention immediately honed in on the items she’d brought with her. “These rock,” he said, bending to inspect each one. “Like totally sick.”
“Sick?” Alarmed, Alicia stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Sick, as in great, Alicia,” he said in a droll tone.
“Oh. Well, I’m glad you like them.” Once he’d stored his backpack, she explained what she wanted him to create for the tags on each item. “Make them special, okay? You’re a genius when it comes to writing these tags,” she praised, “so I know you’ll do a totally sick job.” She giggled when he rolled his eyes. “I have to get groceries. My fridge is empty.”
“Go ahead. Let this genius get to work.” Eli flexed his fingers, pulled out his label supplies, then stopped. “Did you know there’s a new girl staying at the hotel? She looks like a cover model.”
“I met her on the train. Her name is Giselle Campbell. She moved here with her father, Jack, who bought the Northern Lights Lodge,” Alicia explained. “Laurel is her aunt.”
“Think she’ll join our youth choir?” Eli asked in an awestruck voice. “We could use some more girls, especially ones who look like her.”
“You could always ask her.” She picked up her purse.
“Alicia?”
“Yes?” She studied the boy, noting the change of tone in his voice.
“When’s your next haircutting day? I think it’s time for me to spruce up,” Eli said.
“Soon.” She hid her smile as she slid the strap of her bag over one shoulder. Clearly Eli wanted to make an impression on the newcomer. She turned around to leave but had to stop suddenly because Jack stood in front of her. “Oh, hello. Again.”
“Hi.” His gaze moved from her to Eli and back. “You do haircutting?”
“Only for the boys at Lives, and only if they want me to,” she said, slightly embarrassed by his intense scrutiny. “A friend of mine in Vancouver taught me the basics. She’s a hairdresser and runs a homeless shelter. She gives haircuts to anyone who wants one. I don’t have my license, but since a hairdresser only comes to Churchill every three or four months, I help out if someone asks. Laurel asked.”
“I see.” Were those piercing blue eyes more intense?
“Can I help you?” she asked when the silence stretched out too long.
“You’re busy.” Jack was acting very odd, as if he had something on his mind but was afraid to say it.
“Just going for groceries,” Alicia explained. “Oh, this is Eli Long. He works for me. Eli, this is Mr. Campbell, from the lodge. Laurel’s brother and Giselle’s father,” she added.
“Hi.” Eli waved to Jack, then, as if he too sensed Jack’s tension, got to work.
“Do you need something?” Alicia asked again.
“Maybe,” Jack muttered. He shuffled his amazing shoes then looked at her. “Yes, please,” he said in a firm voice. “I need your help.”
“Sure.” Alicia nodded. “With what?”
“With whom,” he corrected. His gaze slid to Eli. “Giselle. I, er, did something—”
“Why don’t we walk while you tell me?” she said, realizing that he didn’t want to speak in front of Eli. She stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind them. As Jack walked beside her down the street, her pulse began to thrum at his closeness. “Well?”
“How about I treat you to coffee?”
“If you add a doughnut, I’ll agree,” she teased.
But Jack didn’t smile. He simply nodded and began walking toward Common Grounds, a coffee shop down the street from Alicia’s store. Sensing he needed a few moments to collect his thoughts, she caught up, saying nothing until they were seated with their coffee and doughnuts in front of them.
Jack’s silence unsettled her. She needed to get him talking. A quick glance at the clock told her she’d need to hurry him a bit. Today was early closing at the Northern Store because of inventory taking. Grocery shopping and a decent dinner might have to wait till tomorrow.
Finally, without looking up at her, Jack spoke.
“Giselle’s run away.”
Chapter Four
Jack felt like a fool.
He’d been a father for eleven years, yet the small, dark-haired beauty who had called him dad until recently still had the ability to tie him in knots. He saw Alicia struggling not to smile and glared at her.
“It’s not funny.”
“It kind of is,” she said. “This is Churchill, Jack. There’s no place to run. Unless she got on the train before it left?” Her smile faded as she studied him with concern.
