A Grave Denied

“Will you be back this evening?”

“Sure. Well, maybe not. No. I don’t think so. It’s awfully late. Okay. Gotta go.”

“Jim.”

He stopped, his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. She looked at the tree beneath which they had sat, and away. If he was not demented she was blushing. Probably his imagination. “Thank you,” she said again, very softly.

He took a deep breath. His heart was thumping in his chest like the tuba in the high school orchestra, loud and off the beat and out of tune and unstoppable. “Sure. Whatever. Glad to help. Anybody would have -I gotta go.” He sketched a shaky wave and headed out of the clearing at not quite a run, terrified that she was going to ruin what was probably the first civil conversation they’d ever had with a blast of invective as soon as the ground steadied beneath everyone’s feet and Kate realized who was being civil to whom.

He was halfway up the trail when he felt a nip at his heel. “What the hell?” He turned and saw Mutt, her tail wagging furiously. As soon as she had his full and undivided attention, she jumped up, both paws on his chest, gave him a generous swipe of tongue, bounced back down, and trotted a few feet toward the homestead. She stopped and looked over her shoulder.

“Forget it,” he told her, and kept walking.

Be damned if she didn’t nip at his heels again. “Cut it out, Mutt!”

The third time she caught his pants leg in her teeth and gave a good strong yank. His feet flew out from beneath him, and the next thing he knew he was flat on his face.

“Son of a bitch!” He spit out a mouthful of new grass and got to his feet. “Jesus,” he roared, “what is it with you Shugak women!”

She bounced a couple of steps down the trail and looked over her shoulder, giving an encouraging yip, tail wagging furiously. He could have sworn she was laughing at him.

He steamed into the clearing and back up to Kate, who was standing stock still and watching his battleship-like approach with her mouth open.

“What-” she started to say.

That was as far as she got. He was back in range in two steps and he had his hand knotted in that raven cap of hair in three. He had a glimpse of startled eyes before he kissed her. He took his time over it, poured everything he had into it, all the longing, the frustration, the need, everything he’d felt since that day in September when he’d found her crouched over her dead lover, keening a wordless lament.

Be honest with yourself at least, Chopin, he thought, Jack dying didn’t make you want her. You’ve wanted her since the first time you saw her. And then all thought stopped.

She didn’t exactly respond but she didn’t resist, either. For a long moment he thought that was all he was going to get. Then something changed; she sort of woke up and suddenly he had himself an armful of woman, whole, alive, responsive, and oh my god, demanding of a return on that response in a take-no-prisoners onslaught that was likely to knock him off his feet. He heard bolts being thrown back and locks clicking open and doors swinging wide. There might even have been trumpets, although his ears were ringing so loudly he couldn’t be sure.

He raised his head. Slowly her eyes opened. They looked at each other. She was flushed again, and he had to get his breathing under control before he could speak. “Don’t kid yourself, Shugak,” he said, proud that his voice was steady. “Altruism had nothing to do with it.”

And before she could say anything he turned and left. And this time, Mutt let him go.

Friday, May 9th

Kate’s cabin got burned down. We’re staying at Bobby and Dinah’s until some guy in Ahtna brings his trailer down to Kate’s homestead. It was supposed to be here Tuesday night but it got stuck on the road somewhere, and both escort trucks got stuck, too, and some construction crew that’s coming to dig out the foundation of the new trooper post in Niniltna is bringing up a backhoe this weekend and on the way in will dig them all out. I like Bobby and Dinah and I love Katya but Bobby’s brother is an asshole. I’ll be glad to get back home.

Home. We’ve only been gone two days and I can’t wait to get back. I’m turning into as much of a hermit as Kate. Only she says we’re hobbits and gave me the book to read. Hobbits are cool, quick, nimble, when they throw at something they hit it. Mr. Koslowski could use Bilbo on the JV team. He’d be too short for varsity.

But I don’t think that’s what Kate meant.

She thinks that since Dinah ordered us replacement clothes on her computer and that she’s still got her grandmother’s album and her dad’s guitar and that ivory otter and the cash can that she’s fine, but she’s not. When she doesn’t know anyone’s looking at her, she gets this look on her face, kind of angry but cold, too. Jim fired her and then they met up at the homestead and something happened and he rehired her, so now she’s going all over the Park and talking to everyone that ever spoke to Dreyer in their whole lives. Bobby says she is obsessing and Dinah says she’ll come out of it. They’re both worried, I can tell. And Bobby’s brother sure isn’t helping. He called Katya a mongrel. She better not know what that means. She better not remember him saying it. If someday she asks me, I’ll tell her it’s the best kind of dog there is, like Mutt, the best of all different kinds mixed into one smarter and stronger than all the rest.

I didn’t know black people could be prejudiced against white people.

I asked if I could ride along while she did her interviews and Kate said I had to go to school but that wasn’t why. I’m not a baby. I could find out stuff, and nobody pays any attention to teenage boys unless they think we’re drinking or doping or screwing around or stealing a car. I bet people would talk to me who wouldn’t talk to Kate. Like Jim said, I picked up some stuff from Dad, I can handle myself.

I snuck a peek at her notebook and she’s got a timeline drawn up of all the places Dreyer worked. One of the places was Van’s uncle and aunt’s. I asked her about him but she says she doesn’t hardly remember him.

The Canathan geese have been flying in. I looked them up in the ADF &G wildlife notebook on Dinah’s computer and there are six different species, including one called the cackling Canada geese which I really love the name of and I wished it nested here but the notebook says not. I think ours are dusky, six to eight pounds each.

I like the sound they make, they sound like spring. When I was living with Dad on Westchester Lagoon in Anchorage they used to come sliding in on the lagoon before the ice melted. Most of them took off as soon as they refueled (like jets) but some of them stayed and built nests. When the babies were born they’d hook up with other goose families that you could see sometimes in parks and on ball fields. Most of them were all head down in the grass, but there was always one adult with its head straight up, watching out for the others, and if you get too close it makes a noise and they all start moving away.

I was thinking about geese that day last fall that Mom showed up at Bobby’s. Everybody in the Park was at his house that day, and almost every one of them got in her way when she was trying to catch up to me. Most of them didn’t even know me.

But they knew Kate.

Geese mate for life, Ruthe says. Only if one of a pair dies, they change partners. There are so many in Anchorage that they let Alaska Natives harvest eggs from the nest and give them to elders to eat, but they’ve got to be sneaky about it because if they take the eggs too early the geese will lay more.

When Kate was with my dad, my dad never brought anyone else home and I’m pretty sure he never stayed over anywhere else. There were long times when they didn’t see each other, too. Most people get married, like Bobby and Dinah. I figure since Dad married Mom that he would have liked to have married Kate, too, so she must not have wanted to.