Part 55 (1/2)

All winter the women planned Grace's trip to medical school in Oregon. The night before Grace was to leave, Fiona slipped into her room with a long list of names of friends and colleagues for the girl to contact once she got settled at the school.

”And no matter what,” Fiona said, ”you're to return home for Christmas.”

”Maybe you and Papa should come to Oregon for Christmas,” she said. ”You know I don't plan to be there any longer than it takes for me to become a doctor.”

”Yes, dear, and I'd like to talk to you about that.”

Later that night, Fiona climbed under the thick stack of quilts to snuggle against her husband. ”Are you asleep?” she whispered.

Tucker turned to gather Fiona in his arms. ”No, I'm just lying here wondering how we're going to fill all the empty hours we'll have once Grace leaves.”

Fiona smiled and leaned up on one elbow. ”Oh, I don't think that will be a problem, Tucker. A little bird tells me that we're going to be plenty busy come spring.”

”Spring?” Even in the dim light, Fiona could see Tucker's broad grin. ”Fiona? You're not. Are you?”

”Yes,” she whispered. ”Isn't G.o.d good?”

”Oh yes,” he said as he kissed her soundly. To her surprise, Tucker pulled away. ”But if you're indisposed, who will be the doctor around here?”

It was Fiona's turn to smile. ”Doc Killbone said he'd be sending a replacement in six months. I'm sure he will be willing to stay until Grace returns.”

”Grace?” He shook his head. ”I don't understand.”

”She told me tonight that she intends to return to Goose Chase and practice medicine. That means your daughter will be home in a few years.” Fiona stole a kiss from her surprised husband. ”Are you happy, Tucker Smith?”

He answered, but not with words.

A LIGHT IN THE WINDOW.

by Tracie Peterson.

Chapter 1.

Julie Eriksson hastily donned her fur-trimmed cloak and made her way to the viewing deck of the SS Victoria. She strained to see the hazy blue outline of land. Nome, Alaska! After five long years, she was finally coming home. For the rest of her life, she would celebrate the seventh of October.

Squinting against the brilliance of the sun as it hit the ice floes in the Nome roadstead, Julie thrilled at the crisp, cold wind on her face. Where other pa.s.sengers-visitors to her far north-shuddered at the zero-degree weather and went quickly below, Julie felt like casting off her cloak. This was her home, and never again would she leave it. She longed to soak it all up.

The deep blast of the steamer's whistle startled Julie. She remembered back to 1919, when she'd left Nome for Seattle in order to study nursing. Then, the s.h.i.+p's whistle had been a lonely reminder that Julie was leaving home. Now an experienced public health nurse, Julie was returning to her people to offer what skills she'd learned in order to better their lives.

Her only regret was that her mother, Agneta, had pa.s.sed away while Julie was in school. Having been a sickly woman, Agneta was Julie's biggest reason for becoming a nurse. What little health care existed in Alaska was inadequate to deal with the ailments of Agneta Eriksson. Julie had always desired to bring her mother relief from her torturous bouts with asthma. Julie had learned all she could about the illness, but she hadn't returned in time to help.

Her mother's memory would live on in Julie's heart, but the empty place Agneta's death left would never be filled. With this thought in mind, Julie wondered if her father and brother would be meeting her. Their homestead was some twelve miles northeast of Nome-a short, easy trip by dogsled.

She smiled as she thought of the dogs. It had been so long since she'd driven her own team. City people in Seattle had laughed at her talk of driving dogs, unable to imagine Julie handling the demand.

Of course, some of the rural students had known only too well the love of mus.h.i.+ng dogs, and when several had invited Julie to join them at a local winter race, she'd readily accepted. Those simple kindnesses had helped ease her homesick heart that first year.

Glancing at her watch, Julie noted that it was ten minutes till twelve. They'd made excellent time, with perfect weather for their six-day journey from Seattle. During her bleakest moments in the States, it had been hard to believe that Nome was only six days away. Most of the time the distance had seemed an eternity, and had Julie not been resolved to become a nurse, she would have gladly taken the short trip home and forgotten the loneliness that haunted her in the state of Was.h.i.+ngton.

Julie felt the s.h.i.+p slow as the ice floes grew larger and threatened to halt the Victoria's progress. Nicknamed the Grand Old Lady, the SS Victoria was one of the only s.h.i.+ps to brave the harbor of Nome this late in the year. Julie knew that even the Victoria wouldn't challenge the icy waters past the first of November. Insurance premiums would soar due to the risk of icebergs. In fact, after the Victoria pulled out of the harbor for Seattle, there wouldn't be another s.h.i.+p into Nome until April.

”All for Nome! All for Nome!” a man called out through a megaphone.

Julie moved toward the man. ”Are we going to take the ferry across the roadstead?” she asked as the man moved past her.

”No, ma'am,” the man said with a tip of his cap. ” The ice is too thick. We're going to walk you across.”

Julie nodded. It wasn't unusual for Nome-bound s.h.i.+ps to anchor in the ice-laden harbor while pa.s.sengers walked ash.o.r.e across the thick ice. Leaning against the icy railing, Julie smiled to herself. Another hour and she'd be on the sandy banks of Nome.

”Oh, thank You, Father,” she whispered in prayer. ”I'm so happy to be home and so happy to be doing Your work.” Julie glanced around to make certain no one was watching her before she continued. No sense in folks thinking she was daft.

”Dear G.o.d, make me an amba.s.sador of Your love and good will. Let me help the people in this territory both with my nursing skills and my knowledge of You. And Lord, thank You so very much for allowing the years away to pa.s.s quickly and for the good friends You sent my way-friends who helped to ease my burden of loneliness and separation. Amen.”

The s.h.i.+p came to a full stop, resting gracefully against the solid platform of ice. Julie raced back to her cabin and gathered her things. It was going to be a glorious day!

The walk across the icy harbor made Julie glad she'd bought a st.u.r.dy pair of boots in Seattle before leaving for home. Of course, they weren't as warm as native wolfskin boots with moosehide bottoms, but they got her across the ice without any mishaps.

Some of the ”cheechakos,” the Alaskan name for greenhorns, were trying to snowshoe or skate in city boots across the ice. If she hadn't worried about hurting their pride, Julie might have laughed out loud in amus.e.m.e.nt. The only other women on the trip were a pair of frail-looking things who insisted on being pushed across the ice in sled baskets.

Julie wondered about the handful of pa.s.sengers. Always there were those who came to find their fortunes in gold, but they usually arrived in April or May and departed before the temperatures dropped below zero. There weren't many from the lower forty-eight who, upon hearing of days, even weeks, spent at fifty degrees below zero, would brave the Alaskan winter. Those hearty souls who did usually came for reasons other than acquiring gold.

Of course, some people were running from the law. Alaska provided a good place for criminals to escape from those who might put them behind bars. Others might have family or friends who'd beckoned them north.

Julie surmised the two women in the sled baskets might be mail-order brides. They weren't familiar faces, nor did they appear to be saloon girls. She felt sorry for them as she watched them s.h.i.+vering against the cold. She wondered if they'd ever bear up and become sourdoughs, as those who made it through at least one Alaskan winter were called.

Nearly losing her footing, Julie decided to forget about the other pa.s.sengers. She was nearly a visitor herself, and she hastened to remember the little things she'd forgotten while enjoying the conveniences in Seattle. She kept her eyes to the ice, determined to keep her suitcases balanced and firmly gripped in her ladylike, gloved hands. Useless things, city gloves, Julie thought. She'd be only too happy to trade them in for a warm pair of fur gloves or mittens.

Not that it hasn't been fun to play the part of the grand lady. Given that Nome streets in winter were always in some state of mud, ice, or snow, Julie knew it would be wise to forget about dressing up. No, she reasoned, sealskin pants, mukluks, heavy fur parkas, and wool scarves will be of more comfort to me here.

The wind whipped across her face and pulled at her carefully pinned black hair. Having spent most of her time indoors in Seattle, Julie's pale skin made an impressive contrast to her ebony hair and eyes.

Julie had her Eskimo grandmother to thank for the rich, dark color of her eyes and s.h.i.+ning hair. Having left her Inupiat Eskimo village, Julie's grandmother had married a Swedish fur trapper and moved to Nome. Their only child, Lavern Eriksson, had been born in 1865, some thirty-six years before the famed ninety-seven-ounce gold nugget was taken out of Anvil Creek near Nome.

It was the rumor of gold as early as 1899 that had brought Agneta's family north. While others were eager to make their fortunes, Julie's parents had found a fortune in love. Agneta and Vern had married after a brief courts.h.i.+p and soon Julie's brother, August, had been born. In 1902, Julie's birth had completed the family.

Julie scanned the banks again for a familiar face. She was about to give up hope when her brother's face came into view. His hand s.h.i.+elded his eyes, but Julie easily recognized his easygoing looks.

”August!” she shouted across the ice as she picked up her pace. Her brother pushed through the crowd and rushed across the frozen harbor to greet Julie.

”I can't believe you're finally here,” August said as he pulled Julie into his muscular arms.

”Me, either,” Julie said as she enjoyed the first hug she'd had in five years. She'd nearly forgotten the feel of supportive arms.