Page 13 of Some Like It Hot
I can be more, if that’s what you need.
She didn’t need.
But maybe shewanted.
Which probably was why she’d let herself say the words at the plane.
The fresh air was exactly what she needed to clearthatcraziness from her brain.
She had cut along the backside of their property, along the elk trails into the foothills and forests until she crossed a meadow and trail that led to the back of their property. The clear shot north drew her gaze, and she made out the black tuft of wildfire smoke in the distance, closer than she would have liked.
After the meadow, she cut back into the forest to meet up with the dirt road that led to the A-frame. Flowers in wooden pots lined a wide porch, and a couple of Adirondack chairs faced the west, as if anticipating a sunset.
She liked the place. Quiet, homey. Hopefully Darryl could be cleared of the charges against him and come home soon.
Larke parked next to the open shed that held the firewood fuel, an old four-wheeler, and a snowmobile. The woman needed a car or something, and it more than irked Larke that she’d been left here without transportation.
But Alicia was born in this wilderness, knew how to survive. And by the looks of it, wasn’t in trouble at all, the way she waddled up the trail from the tiny lake behind their house.
Larke got off the four-wheeler and hiked down the trail toward her.
Alicia waved. She carried a stringer of fish, maybe caught in one of her traps.
Larke took the rainbow trout from her. “I called you on the CB, but there was no answer, so I got worried.”
Alicia pressed a hand to her back. “I’m fine. Just achy. And fat.” She gave her a wan grin. “Ready to have this baby, if Darryl would just come home.”
Larke gave her hand a squeeze and followed her into the house.
Sunshine bathed the rich pine flooring in the one-room house. A kitchen tucked into the back with stairs that led to the loft overhead. The sweet aroma of freshly canned strawberries inlaid the place. Over a dozen jars sat upside down on a towel on the kitchen table.
“Please tell me you’re not climbing those stairs,” Larke said, setting the fish into the sink. She went to the drawer and found a fillet knife.
Alicia eased onto a kitchen chair. “No. I’m sleeping in the back.” She indicated a curtain, and Larke’s glance caught an unmade twin bed. “I can’t sleep without Darryl anyway.”
Sweet.
Or dangerous. Because as an over-the-road trucker, Darryl spent more time away than at home.
And roads were icy in Alaska.
Oh, Larke shouldn’t bring her jaded heart into other people’s lives. She found a cutting board and unhooked a five-pound trout. “Nice.”
“The lake was stocked a few years ago,” Alicia said. She leaned back in the chair and emitted a groan.
“Go lie down on the sofa. Put those feet up.”
Alicia wore an over-sized button-down shirt, closed to just above her navel, a T-shirt under it, and a pair of jeans, baggy in the back, low under her belly. Larke guessed the entire outfit might belong to her husband. She eased herself off the chair and over to a worn sofa as Larke made quick work of the fish.
She could fillet in her sleep.
She dropped the creamy white fillets into a bowl of cool water and stored them in the fridge, a propane-generated model common in the backwoods.
Then she threw the skins into the compost bin outside and washed her hands. “Okay, let’s take a look.”
“I’m not due for ten more days.” Alicia lay with her head on a pillow. “And I don’t have contractions. I’m just tired.”
Larke had retrieved her medical kit from the four-wheeler and now took Alicia’s blood pressure, her temperature, and felt the baby’s position. Low, head down.