An Alaskan Homecoming
Autor
Beth Carpenter
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24
CHAPTER ONE
“THE ONLY WAY to beat jet lag is to power through the first day.” The voice belonged to Rowan’s brother, Patrick, but the words were their mother’s, quoted after every long-haul flight. Sadly, they’d proved true.
Rowan forced her eyes open to see Patrick and his wife, Lauren, peering in through the bedroom door. The door Rowan had left opened because when she lay down to rest for just a second, she’d never intended to fall asleep. “I’m awake.”
Patrick immediately came to her bedside and passed her a yellow sticky note. “Call Mom.”
“What’s this?” Rowan squinted at the paper in her hand, which seemed to be a mishmash of numbers and letters.
“That’s our Wi-Fi code. We don’t get decent cell service on the farm, but if you’ll put that code into your phone, it will work over the internet.”
“I don’t—”
“Call Mom,” Patrick repeated. “She’s already called me, Lauren and Gran, and if you don’t return her call immediately, the state troopers might be next.”
Rowan sat up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’ll help Gran unpack.” After all, that’s why she was here, in Alaska: to take care of Gran after her surgery Monday. Part of the reason, anyway.
“Bonnie’s fine,” Lauren told her. “She’s already unpacked and right now she’s beating all the contestants on a quiz show. You’re the one who’s been traveling for the last twenty-four hours.”
Rowan yawned and picked up her phone. “What’s the time difference for Tokyo?”
“Six hours earlier.” Patrick gave a sympathetic smile. “But it’s tomorrow.”
“Right.” You’d think, after growing up all over the world, Rowan would have mastered time zones, but her brain could never seem to wrap itself around the concept of flying east over the international date line and going back in time to yesterday. She did the math. “It’s only six forty-five in the morning there. Mom’s already called three times?”
Patrick’s phone rang, and he glanced at the ID. “Four.” He pocketed his phone. “She’ll just keep calling, you know.”
“I know.”
“Once you’re done, come on downstairs for lunch.” Lauren took Patrick’s hand and led him from the room.
Rowan opened the settings on her phone and punched in the code. How tempting it would be to stay unconnected and plead technical difficulties, but she wouldn’t. The code did the trick, and two missed calls popped up on her screen. That made six. If it were anyone else, Rowan would be worried. For her mother, it was standard operating procedure.
She padded over to the window and pulled back the curtains, new since last autumn, when she came for Patrick and Lauren’s wedding. She’d noticed several little updates to the old farmhouse on her way in. She wasn’t sure how her new sister-in-law had found time for home decorating on top of supervising the building of a new milking barn, commercial cheese-making kitchen and tasting room, as well as managing a herd of milking goats and hiring employees, but somehow Lauren had managed to get Now and Forever Farms up and operating in less than a year.
The familiar view from the bedroom window overlooked green pastures and patches of cool forests. When Rowan was a child, the pastures had been dotted with black-and-white Holsteins. Now Lauren’s beloved dairy goats grazed there, and the farm was once again alive with activity. Alaska had always been a special place for Rowan, a sanctuary away from the stress and expectations of the nomad life her family lived. And Gran and Grandy were always there, as solid as the mountains.
As Rowan watched, a trio of baby goats initiated a game of tag, running and ducking through the herd. One jumped onto his mother’s back and gazed down at his pursuer. Rowan imagined he was chanting the goat equivalent of “nah, nah, nah, nah, nah.”
Her phone chimed, signaling a text from Mom. Rowan sighed and dialed. Mom picked up on the second ring. “You said you’d call.”
“My flight was delayed, and I missed my connection in Seattle, so I had to layover for several hours before I could catch another flight.” Rowan put the phone on speaker and set it on the desk, leaving her hands free to unpack.
“You could have let me know you made it to Anchorage.”
“It was the middle of the night. I didn’t want to wake you.” Rowan hung two shirts in the closet.
“You should have texted, then. I was worried.”
“I’m fine. The phone wasn’t working at the farm until Patrick gave me the Wi-Fi code just now. He brought me home from the airport. Didn’t he tell you I’d arrived?”
“Yes, but I need to talk with you. Venues book up fast. We’ll need to coordinate with the Tanakas to get an idea of the size of the guest list. I’ll set up a lunch with Coralie.” Sutton’s mother had been Mom’s sorority sister at William & Mary. “Did you and Sutton set a date before you left?”
“No.” Rowan licked her lips and twisted the unfamiliar diamond ring back and forth on her finger. “He’s so busy. He’ll be in Palo Alto for another two weeks at least.”
“Well, you need to get with his assistant to go over his calendar and carve out some time. We’ll need at least nine months for planning. More if you don’t get a move on. How do you feel about harps?”
“I don’t—”
“Never mind. We can talk about music once we’ve chosen a venue. In the meantime, I’ve made a list of wedding gown designers, ranked by—”
“Mom, can we do this later? I need to finish unpacking and check on Gran.” Rowan put some socks in a drawer and shut it with a little more force than necessary.
“I spoke with Bonnie fifteen minutes ago. Her surgery isn’t until Monday. I wish she’d taken my advice to go to that top surgeon in Seattle, but she assures me it’s a simple outpatient procedure. I don’t understand why you felt the need to be there with her when you have so much you should be doing here. She has Patrick and Lauren.”
“Patrick and Lauren have the farm to take care of, and Gran will need someone to take her to doctor’s appointments and physical therapy.”
“But your job—”
“I took a leave of absence. I need to go, Mom. I’ll let you know once Sutton and I have had a chance to talk.”
“Well, don’t leave it too long. I’ll email you this list of designers, although it would help if I knew the season—”
“As soon as I know, so will you. Bye, Mom.” Rowan ended the call. How did she get herself into this situation? She twisted the diamond ring again, and then, with a decisive motion, pulled it from her finger and tucked it into the nightstand drawer.
The unmistakable scent of grilled cheese sandwiches drifted up the stairs, and Rowan’s stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten much of the prefab dinner on the plane yesterday evening. The rest of the unpacking could wait.
She found everyone gathered in the kitchen. Gran ladled tomato soup into bowls, Patrick flipped a sandwich in a skillet and Lauren poured from a pitcher of iced tea. “Well?” Patrick scooped up a sandwich and slid it onto a plate.
“Done.” Rowan smiled at Gran. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine and dandy. Looking forward to getting this scar tissue fixed. Did you have a nice nap?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Once everyone had been served, Rowan bit into her sandwich. “So good. Is this the new white cheddar you told me about?” she asked Lauren.
“Yes. I’m really pleased with the texture. We’ve just finished our first experimental batch of feta, too. You’ll have to try it later.”
“I love feta. Patrick, remember those salads we got when we lived in Greece, with the big hunks of feta in the middle?”
“Do I. We ate them every chance we got. What’s your go-to in Japan?”
“Yaki imo,” Rowan answered without hesitation. “Stone-roasted sweet potatoes. In the fall and winter, there are these woodstove sweet potato trucks that drive around like ice cream trucks in the US. Delicious.”
“Food trucks are getting to be a thing here, too,” Lauren said. “They’re all over in Anchorage, but not many in Palmer yet.” Lauren looked at her watch. “Sorry to eat and run, but someone called in sick, and I need to fill in at the tasting room.”
“Let me do it.” Rowan finished the last bite of her sandwich and pushed back from the table. Thanks to her grandmother’s generous gift, Rowan was officially a one-third owner of Now and Forever Farms dairy, but since she lived in Japan, she hadn’t been able to contribute as much as she’d have liked.
“You’re exhausted from flying all night.”
“I’m fine, and Patrick’s right. The only way to get through jet lag is to tough your way through the first day. Work will help keep me awake.” She turned to Gran. “Unless you need me to stay with you.”
“Of course not. My surgery isn’t even until Monday, and it’s minor.” Gran gave her an appraising look. “In fact, up until now I was wondering why you decided to come all this way.”
“Until now? What do you mean?”
Gran patted her hand. “Never mind. You go ahead and help Lauren in the tasting room. We’ll talk later, and you can tell me all about that diamond ring you were wearing when you came in that isn’t on your finger anymore.”
“LET’S TRY THIS once more.” Moving slowly, Zack approached the downy yellow moose calf and waved a bottle of formula in front of his face. “Yummy stuff.”
The calf butted his head against the bottle, almost knocking it from Zack’s hand. He shifted his grip and tried again. “Come on, buddy. I know it’s not as good as Mama’s, but your mama isn’t feeling up to nursing right now. Give it a try.” He squirted a little formula onto his fingers and slid them into the calf’s mouth.
Instinctively, the calf began to suck. Zack eased the nipple of the bottle in beside his fingers. Tasting the milk, the hungry calf sucked harder. Slowly, without disturbing the calf’s rhythm, Zack retrieved his fingers.
“You got him to eat.” Maggie poked her head around the corner of the stall. The calf eyed her but didn’t stop sucking.
“Yeah. He wasn’t too sure about this rubber nipple at first, but he’s getting the hang of it. We’ll just need to feed him formula until all the drugs are out of Mom’s system.”
Maggie watched in silence for a few seconds, but a worry line had formed between her eyebrows. “Speaking of formula, the feed bill is due.”
Zack groaned. “I suppose the kitty is empty?”
“Jessie says the next grant check won’t arrive until next Friday.”
“Hmm.” Zack mentally tallied up payments due on his mortgage, his portion of the vet clinic, his student loans and his truck, comparing that with the balance in his account. It would be close. “I’ll write a check to the feed store.”
“You have to stop doing that. You should be drawing a salary, not funding the wildlife rehab out of your own pocket.”
“Says the woman working six days a week for free.”
“I have the time. I’m retired, but you’re not. WildER needs more sponsors. You know our grant is contingent on matching funds. If we don’t raise more money by September, they’ll reduce it next year.”
Zack grimaced as he adjusted his grip on the bottle. He loved helping injured animals recover and return to the wild, but fundraising was not his strength. “Got any ideas?”
She eyed the calf. “Baby animals are always great human-interest stories for the news.”
“Couldn’t we just send out a newsletter or something?”
“Our mailing list isn’t that big. We need new donors. And to get them, we need publicity.”
Zack frowned. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to do the interview.”
“Tom will want to hear it from the medical expert.” She grinned. “Besides, your pretty face will bring in more money than mine.”
“You’re the former Miss Valley Potato Queen.”
Maggie laughed. “That was fifty years and many pounds ago. No, you have to talk to him.”
“Fine. Give him a call.”
She smirked. “I already did. He can make it this afternoon, after the clinic closes.”
Zack shook his head. “Why do I even bother to argue with you?”
“Apparently, you’re a slow learner. I’ll go check on Mama moose, make sure she’s not waking up yet.”
“Good. We’ll want to get this fellow into the pen beside her before she does.”
The shed door to the barn flew open with a bang and Ripley, Zack’s Australian shepherd, galloped inside, two little girls right behind him. The moose calf dropped the nipple and cowered behind Zack.
“Becks, take the dog outside.” Zack spoke more sharply than he intended. Becca’s eyes widened, and he softened his voice. “He’s frightening the moose.”
“I’ll get him.” Maggie called Ripley to the door and smiled at the girls on her way out. “Hi, Becca. Hi, Charlotte. Go on in.”
“Hi, Maggie.” Becca waited until the door closed before she approached the stall, her head hanging low. “Sorry, Zack.” Becca’s lip trembled. “I didn’t mean to scare him.”
“I know. I’m not mad at you,” Zack reassured her. His eight-year-old half sister was a sensitive child. It was understandable, considering she’d recently lost her father, and never had much of a mother. He offered her a warm smile. “Moose smell dogs and think they’re wolves, so it’s better for everyone if we keep them apart.” He held up the bottle again, and the moose latched on immediately. “See, he’s fine now.”
Becca’s mouth relaxed, and then stretched into a full-fledged grin as she and her friend watched milk dribble from the sides of the calf’s mouth as he suckled.
“He’s so cute!” Charlotte gushed.
“He sure is. How was day camp today?”
“Fun. We hiked around the lake,” Charlotte told him.
“Did you have fun, too, Becks?”
His sister only nodded, but she looked happy. Maybe he could pry some words from her at home, later.
Maggie returned, accompanied by Charlotte’s mother, Jessie. “So, this is the adorable baby moose I’ve been hearing about.”
Maggie shut the door behind her. “Mama moose is still out, but she’s showing signs of waking soon.”
“What’s the baby’s name?” Charlotte asked.
“We don’t name animals we’re not keeping,” Becca told her. “Because they’re not pets, they’re wild.”
A surge of pride filled Zack. Becca had been paying attention. And he liked the way she said “we.” He’d been working hard to show her she had a place here with him. When his father was dying, Zack had promised him he’d care for Becca. The fact that Dad had been unconscious at the time made the promise no less important. The moose emptied the bottle and turned to bat long eyelashes at the girls. They cooed at him.
“You know,” Maggie said slowly, giving Zack a little smirk, “a ‘name the baby moose’ contest could generate some extra buzz.”
“I love it!” Jessie said. “I could set it up on the website, right next to a big donations button.”
Zack quirked an eyebrow. “Really? After what Becca just said?”
Jessie laughed. “It’s just for the website. You wouldn’t have to tell the moose his name. As far as you’re concerned, it can be a ‘name the picture of the moose’ contest.”
Maggie rubbed her thumb and fingers together, reminding him of their funding shortage.
“Fine.” Zack looked pointedly at Maggie. “But you have to explain it to the reporter.”
“No prob.”
“What reporter?” Jessie asked.
“My friend Tom Hackman said he’d do a story about WildER,” Maggie told her. “He’s coming out to film late this afternoon.”
“That’s fantastic. In that case, I’d better get the contest up on the website right away. I’ll get a picture to post.” Jessie pulled out her phone and snapped a couple.
“Be sure to crop me out of it,” Zack said.
“I know, I know.” Jessie took another from a different angle and pocketed her phone. “Girls, we’d better let Zack and Maggie get back to work.”
Zack glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I need to get this guy to his mother before she misses him, and then I have a date with a pug with blocked anal glands.” Which would still be more fun to deal with than the interview. He walked everyone outside. Ripley waited beside the door and Zack ruffled his ears. “Becca, I’ll pick you up at five thirty-five at Charlotte’s.” He’d learned that if he wasn’t there specifically when he said he’d be, Becca worried.
She nodded, her eyes serious. “Bye, Zack.”
“Bye, Becks. Thanks, Jessie. Oh, and could you drop Ripley in his yard on your way?”
“Sure. Come on, boy.”
Once the girls and Jessie were out of sight, Zack carried the moose calf to the holding pen where his mother rested. Zack had used long poles to separate the calf from his mother so he wouldn’t pester her to nurse. The moose’s eyes twitched, and one of her legs moved. Zack and Maggie stepped upwind to wait. Soon the mother moose raised her head, looked around in confusion and pulled herself to her feet. Her first decision was to limp closer to the barrier and reach across to lick her calf.
Only when she’d reassured herself the calf was safe did she turn to sniff the rows of sutures that closed the wounds on her back leg. To Zack’s relief, she didn’t seem inclined to start tearing them out immediately. She went back to the baby and nuzzled him.
Zack smiled. “She looks good. Give her a few hours, and we can remove the poles and let the calf nurse. In a couple weeks, they should be good to go.”
“Great. I’ll call Tom and confirm that he still plans to bring out a crew to film you and the moose this evening.” She looked him over. “You might want to change your shirt.”
Zack looked down at the milk and moose drool staining his gray T-shirt. “I’ll do that. Leave the feed bill with the receptionist at the clinic and I’ll send in the check later.”
“Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to the news segment, Zack. I know how much you hate the limelight.”
She was thanking him? Without Maggie’s untold hours of volunteer work, WildER couldn’t exist. Zack grinned at her. “I wouldn’t do it for anyone but you.”
