Worthy of Riches Page 4

  “I love you.” Adam's voice trembled slightly. He held her tighter. “It scares me to think I almost lost you.”

  “I'm not lost,” Laurel said smiling. “I've been found.”

  “I'll be a good husband. I'll never hurt you.”

  “You will. And I'll hurt you too. But after the hurts, we'll forgive and love.” Laurel kissed him again and again. “Maybe we can ride horses tomorrow. Would that be all right with you?”

  Adam answered with a hungry kiss.

  Chapter 4

  ADAM WALKED INTO THE KITCHEN AND SET A PAIL OF MILK ON THE COUNTER. “I don't know if I'll ever get the hang of milking. Seems the harder I try, the less milk comes out. Your father can milk four cows in the time it takes me to do one.”

  Laurel kissed him. “You worry too much. It takes time to learn. You'll figure it out.” She set a plate of toast and eggs, along with a pitcher of milk, on the table. “Hope you're hungry. The hens have been busy.”

  “I'm starved.” Adam sat at the table. “I figure I'll finish most of the plowing today. Might even get some of the vegetables in the ground.”

  Laurel filled a glass with milk and set it in front of Adam. “Great, but eat first.” She pushed the platter of food toward him.

  Adam slid three eggs onto his plate and took two pieces of buttered toast. “So, what do you think?”

  “About what?” Laurel asked as she filled another glass with milk and sat across from Adam.

  “Planting.”

  “We need to think about frost. It's still early.” She took a bite of toast. “We can plant peas. The rutabagas and carrots are hardy, but we should wait another week or two before we put the cabbage and cauliflower starts in the ground.”

  “I doubt we'll have any more freezes. Why don't we go ahead and plant them?”

  Wearing an understanding smile, Laurel slowly shook her head no. “We could lose all of them if we get a freeze. We can't take the chance.”

  “What about potatoes?”

  “They should be all right.”

  Adam ate in silence, then asked, “Has that bear been back to your parents' place?”

  “I talked to Mama day before yesterday, and she said she hasn't seen it. Hopefully he won't visit again.”

  “I haven't heard of any recent kills. Maybe the bear that was doing the damage has moved on. I hope so. It wouldn't take much to wipe out the few animals we have.”

  Laurel returned the milk to the icebox. “Maybe you can start planting after lunch.”

  Adam didn't respond. He stared at his plate. “I'll need you to show me how. I've never actually done it before.” He drained the last of his milk.

  “I was planning to help. It'll be fun doing it together.”

  “I'm beginning to think I wasn't cut out to be a farmer. I like being outdoors, and I like the physical labor, but I'm ignorant. I can't make a move without asking for help. You and your father have to show me the simplest things. I feel like a fool. I'm supposed to be helping your father, but I feel more like a nuisance.”

  Laurel walked up behind Adam and draped her arms around his neck, resting her hands on his chest. “Why do you think you should know farming? You've never done it before.” Laurel moved to the chair beside him. “When you started working for the paper, did you begin as a reporter?”

  “No.”

  “So why would this be different?” She leaned against his arm. “Adam, I've lived on a farm since the day I was born. It's all I've ever known. Of course I know more than you.”

  Adam took Laurel's hand and rested it against his cheek, then kissed it. “I know. It's just that for a long time I've been good at what I do.”

  “I know this is hard for you. I'm sorry.” Laurel brushed back a strand of hair that had found its way onto Adam's forehead.

  “I've got to go over to your folks' house this afternoon. Your dad needs help with the tractor.” He gave her a wry grin. “I'm not all that much help. I can't seem to make straight rows.”

  Laurel patted his arm. “I just wish you didn't have to do so much. You've got work to do here. What about Luke? Can't he help?”

  “He's swamped.”

  She sighed. “It doesn't seem right—you having to work both places.”

  “It's not for long. The doctor said your dad ought to get his cast off soon. I don't really mind. I just wish I were better at this.”

  “Why don't I take care of the planting?”

  “No. I want us to do it together, and I want to start this morning. I can finish the last of the plowing tomorrow.” He scooted his chair away from the table and carried his empty coffee mug to the sink. “I'll get the seed and tools and meet you outside.” He gave Laurel a lingering kiss. “Maybe we can have a picnic this afternoon before I go to help your dad?”

  “Hmm. Sounds nice. I'll make sandwiches.”

  “I don't know if we'll have time to eat them,” he said with a grin.

  Exhausted and dirty, Adam came in from working long after supper time. He washed up, then sat at the table.

  “I missed you at lunch.”

  “I know. I'm sorry.” He downed a glass of water. “I had more to do than I thought. Dinner smells good.”

  “It's not much. Just rabbit stew and biscuits.” Laurel set a bowl of stew and two biscuits in front of him.

  “Looks good,” Adam said, dipping a spoon into the mix of meat and vegetables. He said little while he ate.

  “Is something wrong, Adam? You look worried.”

  “No. I'm fine,” Adam said, but he wasn't. He missed working for the Tribune—the busyness, the excitement of chasing down a story and then writing it. And as much as he hated to admit it, he missed the recognition that came with the job.

  “No, you're not all right. I can see it in your face. Adam Dunnavant, you can't fool me.” Laurel folded her arms over her chest.

  Adam set his spoon in his bowl. “All right. I didn't want to say anything. I know everything will work out. I just need a little time.”

  “What is it?”

  Adam took a slow breath. “You know I love it here, and I love being married to you. But… well, I miss writing. I feel like part of me is missing.” Standing, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I'm no good at farming. I don't know anything about it. And even if I did, all our hard work could be lost in a day.”

  “I thought we already talked about this.”

  Adam gazed at Laurel. “We did. And I know it's going to take time, but…I'm afraid. What if I do it wrong and the crop is no good? What if the weather turns bad?”

  Laurel circled her arms around her husband's waist. “We have to trust God. He hasn't taken his eyes off us. We aren't alone.”

  Adam hugged her. “I'm trying, but it's not so easy. I can't even make a straight row with the tractor.”

  “You're getting better. Your furrows are mostly straight these days.” Laurel grinned.

  “It's not funny.”

  “I know. I'm sorry.” She gave Adam a quick hug. “And I'm sorry you miss your writing.”

  “What will I do if I can't adjust? Sometimes I'm not sure how I'll live without writing.”

  Laurel was silent for a long moment, and Adam wished he hadn't said anything. Talking about how he felt wouldn't change anything. He'd chosen this life; now he needed to make the best of it.

  Softly Laurel said, “I suppose you could try living without it, but if it's part of who you are …” She stepped back and averted her eyes. “I was afraid this would happen.”

  “I'm sorry I said anything. Everything will work out just like you said. I'm too impatient, that's all. I'll get used to it.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I will.”

  “Have you thought about putting out a paper of your own right here in Palmer?”

  “We already have one, the Matanuska Valley Pioneer.”

  “Well, you could have another one, a better one.”

  “This town is too small for two papers.”

  “Could you do any oth
er kind of writing?”

  “I've been doing some journaling, but it's not the same.” Adam pushed away the last of his stew. “I've thought about writing a novel.”

  “A novel? Do you know how?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “What would it be about?”

  “I don't know exactly. I haven't gotten that far.”

  “I think it's a wonderful idea. It could be about a very handsome man who leaves the city to live in the Alaskan wilderness where he meets the woman of his dreams.”

  “Hmm, sounds like a good story. How does it end?”

  “It has a happy ending, of course. The hero becomes a real Alaskan pioneer, and he and his wife live happily ever after with their five children.”

  “Sounds nice.” Adam yawned. “I'm beat.” He kissed Laurel gently. “I'm going to bed. I'm supposed to go fishing with Luke in the morning.”

  “Oh, Adam. You're already so tired.”

  He shrugged. “I told him I had to work, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, so we're going early—four o'clock.”

  “I'll set the alarm, and I'll make a basket of food for you and set it on the back porch.”

  “Thanks.” Adam headed up the stairs.

  The night passed too quickly. Still exhausted, Adam rolled over and shut off the clanging alarm. Longing for a couple more hours of sleep, he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling while he waited for his mind to wake up. Glancing out the window, he could see sunlight-touched clouds and wondered if he'd ever adjust to the long summer days. Yawning, he stretched, rolled onto his side, and dropped his legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Are you going now?”

  “Uh-huh. I didn't mean to wake you.”

  “Do you want breakfast? I can make you some.” Laurel pushed back the blanket.

  “No. Go back to sleep. I'll grab something.”

  “How about coffee?”

  “Is there some left from last night?”

  “Uh-huh,” Laurel said groggily.

  “I'll warm it up.”

  Laurel pulled the blanket up under her chin. “Don't forget the basket.”

  “I won't.” Adam crossed the cold floor and grabbed his pants off the back of a chair. He pulled them on, then put on a work shirt. Taking a pair of socks from his drawer, he sat on the edge of the bed and dragged them over his feet, then stepped into boots, quickly lacing them.

  He stared at Laurel. She was beautiful, even this early in the morning. Auburn hair spilled over her pillow and onto her shoulders. Long lashes caressed her cheeks, and a half smile touched her lips. He bent and kissed her cheek, then brushed the hair off her forehead and pressed his lips against her cool skin, longing to stay with her.

  She smiled and murmured, “I love you.”

  “I'll be back soon,” Adam said, straightening and pulling on his jacket. He glanced out the window. “Looks cold. I'll be expecting a pot of coffee when I get home,” he teased and headed for the stairs.

  He stopped in the kitchen just long enough to add wood to the embers in the stove, then grabbed the basket and walked out into a chilly morning. The grasses and spindly willows growing alongside the porch glistened with dew. After getting his rod and reel from the barn, Adam set them in the back of his pickup and headed for the Haspers'.

  A disheveled, sleepy-eyed Luke met him at the door. “You ready?” Adam asked.

  “Yeah,” Luke said, sounding uncertain. He dropped onto the bench beside the door and pulled on boots and laced them. He glanced at Adam, scrubbed his face with his hands, then stood and lifted his jacket off its hook and shrugged into it. He yawned broadly. Stepping outside, he gazed at the gray sky. “Perfect weather for fishing. No rain, no sun.” Pulling the door closed, he followed Adam to the truck.

  “I'm counting on bringing home a salmon,” Adam said, sliding in behind the steering wheel. He started the engine, shifted into first, and headed for the river.

  “It's early in the season for kings, but I've heard they've been pulling a few salmon out.” Luke smiled, staring at the road as it disappeared beneath the front of the truck. “I've been fishing this spot since we moved here. We ought to catch something.”

  “I got up too early to show up at home empty-handed.”

  “No guarantees,” Luke said.

  The two rode in silence the rest of the way. Adam longed for bed. He couldn't shake his weariness and preferred to be snuggling with his beautiful wife.

  “Slow down. This is it,” Luke said, pointing to a wide place on the side of the road. “There's a trail that leads down to the fishing hole.”

  The two grabbed their gear and headed for the river. Damp foliage wet their pant legs. Even if it wasn't good for fishing, Adam would have preferred sunshine. His feet skidded on wet grass, and he fell hard on his backside. He quickly found his feet. “There isn't a better trail?”

  “Nope. That's why this is a good spot. Most folks don't use this hole.” Luke moved on, undeterred by the steep, slippery track.

  Adam hurried after him.

  Finally they broke through the brush and stood above the river. In a foaming swirl, it tumbled over rocks. “The fishing hole is down here,” Luke called over the roar of the water. He clambered over downed trees and through heavy brush, finally stopping at a place where the rapids emptied into a broad pool.

  Adam sat on a boulder to catch his breath. “I'd better get me a fish,” he said with a grin. “This is a lot of work.”

  “This is the first place Alex brought me when we moved here. And you will catch fish. It's a good spot.” Luke set up his rod and reel. “I'll see if I can hook into one of those early kings.”

  “I'll try for a trout, and we'll see who comes up with a fish first.”

  Luke grinned. “All right. Sounds good to me.”

  “You get a hook into one, and I'll change gear and bait,” Adam said, casting out his line. He watched the bait bob across shallow rapids and settle in the pool, then he leaned against a fallen spruce. It felt good to be still.

  The forest was alive with the calls of birds searching for mates. Squirrels, grateful for spring, chirped and darted across the ground, then up tree trunks and out onto sturdy limbs. Leaves rustled, and a sharp crack sounded in the woods above them. Their tranquility momentarily interrupted, both men turned to look. Neither spoke, waiting to see what might emerge. More crackling resonated from the forest, then moved upriver. Something was making its way through the underbrush.

  When it was quiet again, they settled back to fishing. “What do you think that was?” Adam asked.

  “Hard to say. Could be most anything.”

  Adam pulled in his line, cast it, watched it bob over the froth, then find the pool and settle. As he reeled in and recast, he caught movement in the water. The long, sleek body of a river otter broke the surface, a fish in its mouth. Its fur slicked back, the animal shuffled up the bank and settled down to enjoy its prize.

  “Hey,” Adam whispered to Luke. “Look.”

  “Well, how about that. At least we know there are fish here. I haven't even had a nibble.”

  “Me neither,” Adam whispered, keeping his eyes on the otter. Just as he spoke, he felt a tug on his line. “I've got one,” he called, yanking on the pole. Unhappy with the intrusion, the otter picked up its meal and disappeared into the bushes.

  Adam's pole bent, and his line zinged as the fish ran. “Feels like a big one!” He pulled hard, cranking the reel, then leveling the pole and hauling on it, reeling again as he dragged it upward. The fish broke the water's surface, wriggled in midair, then splashed back into the river.

  “A grayling! And a big one!” Luke called.

  Adam kept working the fish, pulling it closer to the bank. “This one's got a lot of fight in him.” The fish splashed out of the water, battling to free itself.

  “Be patient,” Luke said. “He'll tire, and you'll get him. Keep playing him. He'll come to you.”

  Adrenaline pulsed through Adam as he worked the
fish, gradually pulling it closer and closer. He imagined Laurel's pleasure when he returned with the prize.

  Adam teased the trout into the shallows, and Luke clambered into the water with a net. “Get him over here by me,” he hollered, holding the net just above the water. The fish flashed past him, and in one quick motion, Luke scooped it out. Cradling it in the net, he said, “It's a big one. Real fine fish.”

  Adam joined Luke and disentangled the fish from the netting. Hefting the large-bodied trout, he asked, “How much you think? Five pounds?”

  “At least. More than enough for a good meal.”

  Adam removed the hook, knocked the fish in the head with a club, then kneeled in the shallows to gut and rinse it. He held it up and admired it. It wasn't flashy, but it was beautiful to him. He felt good— better than he had in days.

  I need to stop worrying about what I've lost and be thankful for what I've gained. I have a good life here—a beautiful wife, spectacular countryside, great fishing and hunting, and most of all, good people. The life I left in Chicago doesn't exist for me anymore. This is what matters.

  Suddenly he realized he was living a life some people dreamed about. A quiet voice said, Maybe you should tell people what it's like to live in this place. After all, you're a writer.

  The voice was clear. It hadn't been his imagination, had it? He couldn't get it out of his mind. Outsiders might be interested to hear about life in the Alaskan wilderness.

  He cast his line again, excitement catching hold of him as he imagined all the stories he could tell.

  Chapter 5

  JEAN SPREAD BUTTER ON THE BREAD, THEN ADDED SLICED HAM AND CHEESE and topped each sandwich with another slice of bread. Sighing, she gazed out the kitchen window. Heavy clouds veiled the mountains. She'd hoped for sunshine for the Colony Day Picnic. It felt like winter. We'll just have to wear our coats, she told herself, slicing the sandwiches and deciding that nothing would ruin the day.

  Will came up behind Jean and caught her around the waist. “So, what goodies do we get today? Any cake?”