The Alaska Brides Collection Part 37

From nothing, John Rafferty had made a life for his family. Surely he would understand her need to do the same. To make her own life.

Even as she entertained the thought, she knew better. With Ma gone, the only reaction Da had when Fiona broached the topic of medical school was a frown and a swift change of subject.

She heard the door open and close. Da was home for lunch. Smoothing her hair back from her face, Fiona dropped the feather duster beside the bookcase and scurried to the kitchen to prepare the table.

Today he would have his favorite, a thick beef stew with carrots and potatoes. Fiona had outdone herself with the corn bread she'd whipped up, and she made sure fresh b.u.t.ter sat at the ready. Da did love his corn bread with ample b.u.t.ter.

Along with the meal, Fiona planned to serve up a side dish of careful conversation. She patted the pocket of her ap.r.o.n and smiled. The letter had finally come, and she would soon be going away to study medicine. All that remained was to break the news to Da.

Fiona headed for the dining room but stopped short when she heard a second male voice. The words were soft, a murmur almost, but she distinctly heard her name mentioned in the same sentence with "Alaska."

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Surely Da had told the visitor of his sons and daughters-in-law who lived in the North Country, then made mention of his remaining younger daughter. "Yes, that's it," Fiona said.

Touching the letter in her pocket one last time, she fashioned a smile and stepped into the dining room. Soon his remaining daughter would leave, as well, but not for Alaska.

"Ah, there's Fiona now." Da rose, as did the man sitting across from him. A woman of plain countenance and plainer dress remained seated at the stranger's side. "Welcome our guests, daughter. Rev. and Mrs. Minter, may I present my daughter, Fiona?"

"Pleased, I'm sure, Miss Rafferty," the reverend said.

"The Minters are headed to Alaska to start a church among the miners at Skagway," Da continued.

"And from what we've heard, we'll be working with some independent characters," the Reverend Minter added. "Your father said your brothers are up that way. Maybe they've written to you about how many of the locals are protesting the U.S. Post Office changing the name of their town from Skaguay to Skagway. Can't see as how it makes that much difference, but even the local newspaper refuses to change the spelling of the name. In any event, we hope to contact your brothers and send back word of their welfare."

"And don't you forget to hug my new grandson." Da patted the letter he'd carried with him since its arrival some two weeks ago. "I have it on good authority that Douglas Rafferty is a fine and healthy boy, not that we Raffertys would have anything less."

The men shared a laugh while the pastor's wife unabashedly studied Fiona. When Fiona met the woman's pointed stare, she was greeted with a smirk.

"Fetch extra plates, daughter," her father said. "We men are famished."

Fiona quickly rejected Mrs. Minter's offer of help and bustled off to the kitchen to retrieve the necessary plates and utensils. Because of the unexpected guests, the corn bread would all be eaten with the noon meal, leaving none to mix in a gla.s.s of sweet milk for Da's bedtime snack.

The kitchen door opened, and the pastor's wife stepped in. "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"Oh no," Fiona said. "Da would tan my hide if I put guests to work. My ma raised me better than that."

The woman nodded and stepped back to let the door shut, but not before she gave Fiona a look that said she doubted the statement.

"Humph," Fiona whispered. "I sure hope they don't plan on spending the night."

Fiona returned to the dining room to see that the guests were made welcome then proceeded to serve the meal. Finally, she joined them, sitting at the opposite end of the long table from her father, who offered a genuine smile before returning to his chat with the Reverend and Mrs. Minter.

When the pleasantries had been dispensed with, Da said grace. As Fiona lifted her head, she noticed the reverend's wife staring again. Their gazes met, and Mrs. Minter quickly looked away, but not before Fiona detected something in the woman's gray eyes.

Pity.

Fiona sucked in a deep breath. Why would a mouse of a woman feel sorry for her?

"Your father tells me you're quite a seamstress," the reverend said.

"Actually, I'm not really a-"

"Indeed she is," Da interjected. "Her mother made certain Fiona was adept at all the womanly arts." He paused. "Rest her precious soul," he added in a near whisper.

"She's in a much better place," the reverend said. "One where there is no death or illness."

Mrs. Minter added her sentiments on the topic, while Fiona could barely contain her thoughts. Who were these strangers to comment on Ma? They didn't know her. They'd never listened to her Irish tales or hung on every word of a prayer spoken in her soft brogue.

Da offered Fiona a broad smile that fooled only the lunch guests. Fiona knew better than to miss the warning foretold by his drawn brows and direct stare. "Perhaps after lunch you might show Mrs. Minter the needlepoint you've recently completed."

At the thought of the torture known in polite circles as needlework, Fiona suppressed a groan. Little did Da know that the work she'd done with needle and thread had been to pa.s.s the evenings with an excuse not to talk about Da's favorite subject: Fiona's status as a single woman over the age of eighteen.

Pretending to be absorbed in her work had kept Fiona from suffering the embarra.s.sment of discussing which poor fellow Da might feature as a prospective husband. It seemed that since Ma's death two winters ago, Da was more worried than ever about marrying off Fiona and less concerned about allowing her to get the education she must have in order to become a doctor.

Now that the boys had found wives and Da had Douglas, he was beside himself with joy. With each pa.s.sing year, Fiona knew her brothers' wives would add to the number of grandchildren in the Rafferty family until there would be no end to the Goose Chase, Alaska, branch of the family tree.

While she loved babies and pretty houses as much as the next woman, Fiona believed the Lord had put quite another goal before her. The gift of healing had been entrusted to her, and to ignore that gift seemed to border on blasphemy.

That would be worse than giving up coffee-or fishing.

For that reason, she'd prayed extra hard for just the right opportunity to tell Da of her impending departure. The fact that they had lunch guests must mean the Lord didn't intend her to speak to Da on the issue until dinner.

No matter. She'd been called by the Lord to heal, and nothing would stop her from reaching that goal.

Besides, she'd promised Ma she would follow her dreams wherever they led. And this dream seemed to be leading to a career in medicine.

"Did you hear what the reverend said, Fiona?"

Fiona shifted her attention to the preacher. "I'm sorry, Rev. Minter. What did you say?"

The reverend shook his head. "Understandable. After all, I'm certain if I were about to embark on an adventure of such magnitude, I might be a bit preoccupied, too." He set his fork down and nudged his wife. "Why, I am, aren't I?" he said before dissolving into laughter. "I appreciate you allowing us the use of your spare room until the final leg of our journey is upon us."

Da's expression turned somber. "Perhaps we should discuss this after the meal."

Both men looked toward Fiona before concentrating on their plates. Only Mrs. Minter continued to stare.

Fiona cleared her throat and took a bite of corn bread. Still, the woman's gaze bore down on her. "So, Mrs. Minter," Fiona finally said, "what is it that you do, exactly?"

"Do?" The mouse of a woman looked perplexed. "Whatever do you mean, Miss Rafferty?"

Fiona dabbed at the corners of her mouth, then settled her napkin back into her lap. "What I mean is, what sort of talents do you have? What is it you do all day?"

Pink flared on the woman's cheeks, and she cleared her throat. The reverend had stopped chewing to watch the exchange with what looked like interest. Da, however, seemed ready to spring from the chair at any moment.

"Well, I..." Mrs. Minter cast a sideways glance at her husband. "During the day, that is, once the reverend is out and about, I..." She dropped her gaze to her plate. "I don't suppose I do anything much at all, actually. We'd hoped for children to occupy my hours, but the Lord seems to have had other plans."

The reverend set his fork down and patted his wife's shoulder. "We must thank Him that He's given us a new ministry instead, dear."

Mrs. Minter's smile didn't quite reach her eyes when she said, "Yes, you're right. He has given us that, hasn't He?" A weak hiccup followed the statement, and the pastor's wife began to dab at her eyes.

"Fiona. Apologize at once."

She didn't have to look at Da to know she'd committed a grievous error in judgment. Before she could speak, her father addressed Mrs. Minter.

"You must forgive my daughter. She has delusions of a career." He paused for effect. "In medicine, no less. Can you feature it, Reverend? A medical school wanting to train a girl?"

That did it. Fiona had happily stepped into Ma's role of running the Rafferty home, and she'd even endured the endless hours it took to tie just the right knot and choose just the right colors to make useless needlepoint pillows. To be rewarded by having her choice of career mocked was just too much.

Fiona rose and arranged her napkin on the back of the chair just like Ma used to do. When she cleared her throat and met her father's astonished stare, the room tunneled and contracted until there were only two people present: she and Da.

Shoulders squared, she opened her mouth and let the pent-up words loose. "Perhaps you've missed this fact, Da, but medical schools have been training women for quite some time."

Da's eyes flashed a warning, but he kept a calm expression. "Perhaps you've missed the fact, daughter, that in this family our women are made for a much higher purpose, that of a pursuit in the domestic arts." He looked to the reverend for confirmation. "Have you heard anything so ridiculous as a Christian woman seeking a career?"

While the pastor and his wife shared a quiet chuckle, Da looked completely unamused. Fiona's heart pounded. Slowly, she stepped away from the table, intent on walking away without comment.

Then she spied the look on Mrs. Minter's face. Pity had been replaced by something akin to satisfaction. Fiona's pulse quickened.

"She's been set on this since she was a wee girl. Can you feature it?" Da joined in the laughter.

That, for Fiona, proved to be the last straw.

"I a.s.sure you the admissions board at the medical college did not find the issue of my medical training so funny."

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the envelope, depositing it in the middle of Da's plate. He looked down at the paper and knocked the corn bread crumbs off it with his fork. Fiona's breath caught in her throat as her father's gaze scanned the return address.

While Fiona watched in horror, her father tore the letter in half and let it drop to the floor.

"Unlike Mrs. Minter, you have no husband to hold you here, Fiona." The pastor and his wife could not have missed the tremble of anger. "You'll be of much help to Ian and Merry and to Amy and Braden."

Da turned to the Minters and began an explanation of how both his sons were living in the "vast Northland," as he put it. Fiona had heard her father brag of his sons' adventurous streaks and the fine matches they'd made so many times she could practically recite the words right along with Da. This time, however, she could barely hear his voice for the ringing in her ears.

Her father cast a brief glance in Fiona's direction. "The domestic arts are the only career a woman of good character should pursue, don't you think, Rev. Minter?"

"Oh, I do indeed." He turned to his mouse of a wife. "What say you on this, dear?"

Their gazes met. A brief flicker of what may have been sympathy from Mrs. Minter was quickly replaced by a broad smile. "I say that with all those stampeders looking for wives, even a woman not given to cooking and cleaning could do quite well for herself." She punctuated the statement with a smile.

Fiona looked to Da in appeal. Before she could open her mouth, her heart sank. Her father actually looked...relieved.

"I had prayed for a solution. After all, she refuses the hand of every suitor who crosses the threshold," he said. "And I feel this permanent arrangement will be beneficial to Fiona."

Well, at least Da thought it a permanent arrangement. Fiona, on the other hand, knew better. The Lord hadn't given her brains so that she might learn to mend a better set of trousers or make a tastier beef stew. And as for those suitors? Contrary to what Da thought, she'd given each one prayerful consideration, then praised the Lord loudly when He deemed them all unsuitable.

She took a breath and let it out slowly. Despite what Da thought, the Lord had made her smart for two reasons: to become a doctor and to figure out how to get out of Alaska. Both objectives, she knew, would take time.

The latter, however, would come soon. All Fiona had to do was keep her outspokenness in check and learn a bit of patience. Surely she could appease her brothers and their wives by fitting into the absurd culture of frozen winters and of summers with no darkness-until she found an escape.

When Fiona dared to look toward the reverend's wife again, she found only pity on the woman's face. But then, Mrs. Minter had no idea Fiona had another envelope upstairs in her room-one that just might save her from a life in the "vast Northland," a life spent in Goose Chase, Alaska.

Taking notice of Fiona's gaze, Mrs. Minter formed her plain features into some semblance of a smile. "Don't worry, Mr. Rafferty," she said sweetly, never removing her attention from Fiona. "We will take good care of your daughter. Have you given any thought to the issue of her transportation? We have acquaintances in Skagway who might be of a.s.sistance in seeing that she reaches her destination safely."

As Da warmed to the topic, Fiona returned to her seat and stabbed her knife into the b.u.t.ter, slathering it between layers of corn bread. How she arrived in Alaska was of little concern to her, certainly not worthy of missing a good meal.

Her exit, now, that would be much more interesting.

Chapter 2.

A half day's walk from Goose Chase, Alaska Tucker Smith straightened his back and eased his pick down beside him. A roll of his shoulders loosened muscles hardened from nearly three years of work in this very tunnel.

It didn't start as a tunnel, of course. Way back then, it was just a good idea-a hunch that he and Ian Rafferty had to better themselves and their families by finding gold in the frozen Alaskan land. Who would have known that the discovery of gold in the soil they were digging up for a garden would eventually lead to carving out a tunnel in the face of the mountain?

He cast a glance at the sunlight a few feet away, then turned his back on the day to stare at a wall of midnight-colored earth. Yesterday he had stood in this same spot, and tomorrow he would do it again.

"Hard to believe I used to complain about working all those hours in the sun back in Texas."

Texas.

The reminder of his home, or rather his former home, made him reach for the pick and begin swinging again. Before long, he'd cut a sizable chunk of rock from the wall. Rubble lay around his boots, and specks of dirt littered the shirt his sister had sewn for him last winter. As he brushed the soft wool, Alaskan earth fell like brown snow.

A glint caught Tucker's attention, and he knelt to nudge the mud away. Pocketing the nugget in the pouch at his waist, he went back to work. By the time Tucker heard Ian coming up the path, he'd made a tidy haul.

"Hey, take a look at this. I think we've found a-" The look on his brother-in-law's face stopped him cold. "What's wrong? Has something happened to Merry?"

"Merry?" Ian shook his head. "It's Douglas, actually."

"Douglas?" Tucker let his pick fall. "What's wrong with the baby?"

"You wouldn't believe it."

Tucker's heart thudded in his chest. If anything happened to his nephew...well, he just couldn't imagine what he'd do.

"Rest easy, Tucker. My son rolled over today. One minute he was on the blanket just as peaceful as can be, and the next he just flipped right over. Smiled after he did it, too."

Another less jubilant feeling quickly replaced the relief that flooded Tucker. Envy. If not for the way he had turned tail and run from Texas, he, too, might be a papa with a little one he could be proud of.

Tucker took a step back and scrubbed his face with his palms. Where had that come from? Three years had pa.s.sed since he left home. He knew he still had to work on eliminating the shame he felt over that retreat, but until now he thought he'd done pretty well handling the rest of it.

Ian gripped his shoulder. "You all right?"

Tucker nodded and reached for his pick. "Yeah," he said as he forced his thoughts back to Ian. "Just happy for you and Merry, that's all."