St. Elias Read online

  “Mother,” Sam almost shouted.

  “Who’s Victoria?” asked Elias, somewhat wounded.

  “Sam’s childhood sweetheart,” said Mrs. Collins. “Her mother’s my best friend. Victoria and Sam were playmates when they were babies. They went to law school at Howard together.”

  “Sweethearts?” Elias peered at Sam, hoping he’d deny it, but he stood there silently with agony in his eyes.

  “They were engaged, but well, I don’t know how much Sam has told you about our family,” said Mrs. Collins, her eyes saddened. “There are things we don’t share with outsiders—”

  “Elias knows about Eddie,” said Sam.

  “I suppose you are a closer friend than I thought,” said Mrs. Collins. “Anyway, I think Victoria wants to pick things up with you again—Oh, here she is.”

  Elias turned to the direction where Mrs. Collins was looking, and there was Victoria, wearing an elegant, sleeveless evening gown in beige that accentuated her flawless, perfect hazelnut complexion. She was the definition of glamour and class, thought Elias, who felt embarrassed in her ordinary cotton dress. Victoria glided over and stood in front of Sam with her manicured fingers around a jewel-studded clutch positioned at her narrow waist.

  “My, I hope I’m not overdressed,” said Victoria, examining Elias with a sharp look.

  Sam held out a hand, and Victoria, who seemed to be expecting something else like a kiss or a hug, shook it.

  “It’s good to see you again,” said Sam.

  “It’s good to see you, too,” said Victoria. She then held out a hand to Elias. “I’m Victoria.”

  Elias shook it and felt the firmness of Victoria’s grip. “Elias.”

  “I invited Elias tonight,” said Sam.

  “How delightful!” said Victoria. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone, Sam.”

  Elias waited for Sam to deny he was seeing her, but to her surprise, he didn’t dispute it. On an impulse, Elias said, “We’re just friends.”

  Mr. Collins walked up just now. “Our table is ready. Shall we?”

  Dinner conversation was mostly a dialogue between Mrs. Collins and Victoria, with the subject being Sam, or rather, what Sam used to do with Victoria from childhood to the time of their engagement. Elias gathered the engagement was called off, but the circumstances that led to it were unclear, and no one seemed inclined to shed light on the details. Mr. Collins asked Sam about his job and the national park. How many grizzlies had Sam encountered? What kind of trees were the most abundant? Did Sam like being a ranger? Mr. Collins also praised the Copper River salmon on his plate. “Once, I had it flown in fresh from Cordova to have my personal chef prepare it, but it was not as exquisite as this,” said Mr. Collins after he devoured his fish.

  Elias lost her appetite the moment she saw Victoria. Victoria was everything she wasn’t: wealthy, educated, a successful career woman. Why would Sam pass up on a woman like that? And they had history, a long history.

  When Mrs. Collins started to ask about her home and her parents, Elias excused herself for the restroom.

  “I’ll join you,” said Victoria, linking her arm with Elias’s.

  They separated when they arrived at the restroom. Victoria stood in front of the mirror to powder her face, and Elias went in a stall, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she, a lowly human being, had to perform a bodily function while the goddess, Victoria, listened with pity outside.

  “Sam’s an extraordinary man,” said Victoria when Elias came out of the stall.

  “Yes, he is,” said Elias, turning on the faucet to wash her hands.

  “Forgive me for being blunt, and trust me when I say I’m one of the least racist people you’ll know,” said Victoria, “but some of my friends believe black men belong to black women, and they frown when a fine black man like Sam end up marrying outside the race.”

  Elias was stunned. “And you believe that, too?” asked Elias, turning off the faucet to dry her hands with a towel.

  “No, I’m not small minded,” said Victoria. “But I want to warn you about the looks you’re going to get and the terrible things you’re going to hear from people both black and white.”

  Elias was reminded of Josh’s remarks at the saloon. “First of all, Sam and I are just friends,” Elias said, defensively. “And second of all, I grew up in a black neighborhood, and no one there is ignorant like you or your ignorant friends!”

  Victoria’s lips parted, and Elias realized she had said a rather hateful thing. She covered her mouth, feeling sorry on the one hand but angry on the other, angry that Victoria, with superior grace and sophistication, had somehow got the worst out of her, who was trying hard all night to keep up a façade of refinement herself. The façade was shattered now, and she was sure Victoria could see through her lack of cultured upbringing, but instead of feeling ashamed or fearful of what Victoria might report back to Sam or his parents, Elias suddenly had a rush of pride. The people she grew up with might be poor, but they weren’t phony like Victoria or her friends.

  Victoria stood silently. Elias wondered whether she was expecting an apology. Elias had no intention to apologize, despite knowing she should according to custom. Instead, she said, “I’m going back. You coming?”

  When they returned to the table, Elias saw Sam had an annoyed look on his face and gathered his parents must have been unpleasant in her absence, and so, she thought he wouldn’t mind if she mentioned something about a headache.

  “Headache?” said Sam, all too eagerly. “We should call it a night then. I have to get up early for work as well.”

  “It’s been nice meeting all of you,” said Elias politely, trying not to feel guilty about the irritated look on Mrs. Collins’s face.

  Sam promised he’d check in on his parents the next day, said goodbye to Victoria, and held Elias’s hand as he led her out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, to his car.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Elias felt somewhat vindicated that Sam had run off with her. He was holding her hand again, no less. She let go of his hand in such a dramatic manner it made him stop and look at her with confusion in his eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “You were holding my hand.”

  “And?” He took off his sports coat and tossed it in the backseat.

  “You didn’t ask me if it was okay to hold my hand.”

  “I’m sorry.” He rolled up his sleeves and got in the car. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Elias was furious. He wasn’t thinking? So, the hand holding meant nothing? She got in the car, too, and slammed the passenger door shut so forcefully the vehicle shook.

  “Some headache you’ve got,” Sam started driving.

  “It was an excuse to get you out of the miserable dinner you were having with your parents and fiancée.”

  “Victoria’s not my fiancée.”

  “Why didn’t you marry her?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But you had a good time with her in Atlanta.”

  “She helped Gina with the passport. I went to see a law school friend. I didn’t know she was in the same firm. My friend was too busy to help me, and so she volunteered.”

  “And then you rekindled an old flame.”

  Sam stepped on the brake suddenly, and the car came to a halt. He turned off the engine, got out, and walked away.

  Elias followed him out. It was dark now, but she could see they were just outside the Recreation Hall. There was no one else there, and all she could hear were their footsteps and the soft burbling of melt water flowing downstream along the edge of the Kennicott Glacier. Elias tripped over a rock, and she gasped in anticipation of a fall, but Sam had turned and reached out a hand and caught her. He held on to her hand as they walked into the large, empty room, illuminated only by the moon, which cast wide, parallel stripes of silver on the wooden floor through the row of windows on the western wall.

  “Remember when my parents wa
nted nothing to do with my protests and activism after my brother died?” said Sam as they stood by a window. “Victoria took my parents’ side, and when I decided to come out west, she called off the engagement.”

  “You still love her then?” said Elias, her hand still in his.

  “I care about her, and I don’t deny I feel sentimental when I think of her. But no, I don’t love her in the way you’re implying.”

  “And which way is that?”

  “You’re not objecting to my holding your hand now.”

  “I don’t see my objection being useful since you seem to want to make a habit of it.”

  “Can’t you see I’m in love with you, Elias?” Sam cried out, with desperation in his voice.

  Elias hadn’t expected it, and she tensed up for a moment as she stood with anxiety, not sure she heard him correctly.

  He squeezed her hand, and said in a more tender voice, “I’m in love with you.”

  Elias felt her knees weaken and she leaned back against the wall, her heart racing, and her face burning. She wanted to tell him she was in love with him, too, but she was still in such a daze that she couldn’t utter a sound.

  “Remember the day you walked into my station?”

  Of course, she did. There was no one there but him, the lone ranger, whom she was drawn to immediately by a mystifying, powerful force.

  “Although I enjoy helping tourists see the beauty of our landscapes and the episodic excitement of fighting fires and rescuing campers, being a park ranger is mostly tedious work. On that particular day, I gave everyone the same information over and over again. I’d just caught myself planning for the same dinner I usually had each evening, and I was questioning the meaning of my existence when I heard the door open, and there you were, brought in by the summer breeze, with the colors on your cheeks and the sunshine in your eyes…”

  Elias was surprised. “You didn’t seem too pleased to see me.”

  “I’d been living out here for the calm, so my first thought was, how dare this woman just walk into my station and started chatting up a storm?”

  “So that was why you wanted me to go, to get your calm back?”

  “I believe I asked you to stay and offered to show you things,” said Sam, “Because just when you turned to leave, some feelings inside me, long hidden and neglected, suddenly surged and I wanted to keep you there and talk to me until those feelings could take root and bring me to life again.”

  “For a long time, you weren’t always friendly.”

  “That was because I was struggling whether to give in to those feelings. I was hurt once before.”

  “Victoria?”

  “It wasn’t just her. It was also my parents, my colleagues, my friends, those whom I trusted and looked up to and ultimately let me down. I decided it was better to keep a distance from people, to not let them in.”

  “But you’re letting me in now?”

  “I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s the way you’ve made me feel. I just want to hold on to you.”

  Elias reached and brought Sam toward her so that her heart was next to his. “Kiss me.”

  He leaned in and touched his lips to hers. The kiss was hesitant at first, but it grew passionate. She felt drunk even though she didn’t have any wine.

  He pulled away. “Does this mean you feel the same way about me?”

  She nodded, and he smiled and kissed her again. He began to sway slightly from side to side while holding her, and then he gave her a twirl, and another until suddenly she found herself dancing with him in the moonlit hall to only the music in her heart.

  When they had come full circle back to the window, they fell in another long and saccharine kiss, but then a thought came to her, and she decided to tell him the truth. It wouldn’t be right to keep him in the dark any longer.

  “I have something to say.” She reluctantly pushed him away.

  He gazed at her, the twinkles in his eyes like the stars in the night sky above the glacier. She almost changed her mind for fear that she wouldn’t see those eyes again if she told the truth, but she knew she had to do it. She propped her right foot on the exposed copper pipe running along the lower part of the wall just under the window, lifted her skirt above her knee, and showed him the taped-up monitor on her calf.

  “I just got out of prison,” she started, trying to see if he was fazed by it at all, but he didn’t seem to, and so she continued. “I’m on parole.”

  “I knew.”

  “You knew?”

  “I’ve seen your monitor. That day when you were on the horse with me on Nabesna Road, your pant leg was riding up, and I saw it.”

  “You did? But you didn’t say anything.”

  “I’m not in the habit of probing strangers’ private matters.”

  Elias considered for a moment whether to tell him she was sentenced to twenty years in prison for the accidental shooting death of her best friend’s sister while being high on cocaine. But then, he might be so disgusted that he’d leave her on the spot. Perhaps she could explain she wasn’t the one who did it, that she took the fall for her best friend. But no, she didn’t want to tell anyone about that, not even Sam. She had made a pledge to Ce’Rainitee, and she was going to uphold it no matter what.

  Sam lowered one knee to the floor and cupped his hands around her monitor. “As much as I applaud your creative use of the almighty duct tape, may I help you remove it? It had to be uncomfortable.”

  Elias smiled, and although she was embarrassed that Sam had his eyes on her unshaven leg, she signaled him to proceed.

  Sam carefully peeled the tape away, and Elias could tell he was trying hard not to cause her pain. But the pain was inevitable, and she let out a quiet whimper.

  “Should I stop?” he asked.

  “No, take all of it…”

  He did, and when the adhesive was gone, he slid the monitor gently down her leg. Then he looked up to reach for the hem of her skirt on her thigh. Elias held her breath, not knowing his intentions. With seriousness in his eyes and a conscientious fashion, he brought the hem down to her ankle.

  Then Elias, in a trance, her foot still propped up on the pipe, reached for his hand and guided it back up her leg to her hip under her dress. He stood up, and she led his fingers across her waist until they came to her breast, the heat of his arm melting her so she could almost hear the burbling of her own body as it turned to water, flowing downstream with the glacier outside in the moonlight.

  “Elias…” he breathed into her ear.

  “Take all of me…” she whispered back.

  In the moonlight, by the window, his face had the regal look of a Bernini sculpture she once saw in an art magazine. He put his head to hers, rubbing his cheek against her hair, inhaling and exhaling deeply and rhythmically. She took in his scent, a mixture of mountain air and alder wood. Both his arms were on her skin now, just below the hollows under her shoulders, his body cradling her hard against the wall. With her entire flesh and bones quivering, she turned her face slightly and pressed her lips to the notch above the middle of his chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The potlatch for Andy’s grandmother was held under a large tent set in an open space outside Slana, in the Upper Copper River region, five hours’ drive north from McCarthy near the beginning of Nabesna Road where Elias and Sam rode on his horse the day he saved Wolfe from drowning. The recollection of the ride warmed Elias’s heart and brought a smile to her face—it was the first time they were physically close.

  Last night felt so surreal. Things just happened without any thinking on her part. She still could not believe Sam was in love with her. Her hands trembled as she let waves of emotions wash over her. She wanted to tell Sam about her past. She had to tell Sam what she planned to do with her future. Uncertainty couldn’t last forever in a relationship. But things felt so beautiful, she dared not take any chances to ruin them by telling the truth about herself. Why would Sam want to waste his time with someone who could be
returned to prison at any moment? Why would he want to waste time with someone who had a criminal record at all? Sam said he didn’t mind, but when his passion cooled down—she watched enough movies in prison to know it eventually would—his rational self would begin to argue for him to stay as far away from her as possible.

  Elias shook her head. Her mind was cloudy with many questions, but the festive mood of the potlatch served to distract her somewhat. White lilies and purple lupines adorned the interior of the tent, and dozens of people, many in tribal clothing, formed layers of circles, moving counterclockwise chanting a refrain over and over while waving red bandanas in front of their chests. A group of men was beating on hand drums shaped either in circles or octagons, and that was the sole instrument besides voice. When the song changed, people danced with greater fervor to the thumping drums, bending their knees, so they were almost squatting, arms outstretched or held with elbows flexed, their bodies turning from side to side rhythmically.

  Andy’s aunt, Becky, was the head representative of Andy’s family, and she greeted Elias warmly. Katy, who was dressed in a tanned caribou-skin tunic with a fringe yoke and beaded flowers, pulled Elias into the dance, and she started singing and dancing as if she knew the music and the moves all her life. The joyous sensation was infectious, and she felt spiritually connected to others like never before.

  “Andy’s grandmother must be well-loved to have this many people here at her memorial,” Elias said to Katy while they took a break from the dance.

  “Yes,” said Katy. “She was one of the last elders who could still speak our language, and she used to sponsor activities to teach the young ones. I went on a fishing trip with her once, and she taught me words in our language that had to do with fishing. Sadly, I forgot just about all of them. Andy is better at it than I am.”

  “Speaking of Andy, where is he?”

  “He’s not answering my calls. He should’ve been here an hour ago. We were going to come together, but then he said he had to be somewhere else.”