Beth Carpenter - Sweet Home Alaska

“A lot has changed in the years since Travert lost his wife, but the infant mortality rate in the bush is still twice that in the cities. The focus of my study is to learn about what care is available now, and how the Travert Foundation can help fill in the gaps. The chairman, Ransom Goodman, was a good friend of Travert’s. He hired DEMA because of our experience in dealing with hard-to-reach populations.”

“So you’re in Sparks to see how a village clinic works.”

“Yes. I’ve already learned a lot from Daniel and Libby about the setup here. I’ll need to get a feel for the facilities around the state before I can make specific recommendations, but I have some ideas.” He gave a sheepish smile. “I’m not sure how to incorporate volcano eruptions into my recommendations, though.”

“Some things you can’t anticipate. You just have to take them as they come.” Like the realization that the attraction she’d felt when she met Scott at the botanical gardens was still there, tugging on her heartstrings. But she could ignore it.

Scott shrugged. “You’re right. No use worrying about what can’t be changed. Let’s get this incubator going.”

Together they carried the incubator into the exam room and set it up, further crowding the small area. “I need to examine my patients,” Scott said. “Bridget, could you stay with me, please? The rest of you can wait in the other room.”

Daniel nodded and slipped through the door. Paul handed his son to Bridget and watched her carefully tuck the baby inside the incubator. It was only after Bridget had taken the other baby from Lori’s arms and snuggled her beside her brother that Paul kissed his wife and left, with Volta filing out behind him.

Paul crossed the waiting room to stand beside Daniel at the window. Volta followed. The landscape had transformed since she arrived. Outside, a fine gray powder had coated every surface, and more drifted from the sky in a parody of a snowstorm. Across the street, a woman with a bandanna tied around her face made her way home from the washateria, huddling over a basket of laundry in a futile attempt to keep the ashes out.

“It looks like another planet,” Paul commented.

A few minutes later, Scott joined them. “Everyone is doing fine. Paul, your wife would like your company. Bridget has volunteered to stay here with you for the time being and suggested the rest of us get some lunch.”

“In that case, I’ll head home and have lunch with my wife,” Daniel said. “Call me if you need me.”

“Wear a mask,” Volta suggested. “You don’t want to breathe that stuff.”

Daniel nodded and pulled on a surgical mask before he slipped outside and started up the street. Paul returned to his chair beside Lori’s bed, and Volta could hear them murmuring to each other.

Scott turned to Volta. “Are you ready? Libby said something about a special treat. I can’t remember what she called it.”

Volta chuckled. “Akutaq?”

“Right. What is it?”

“People sometimes call it Eskimo ice cream. It’s basically whipped fat—some use shortening but she uses caribou fat—sweetened and mixed with berries. She first got me to try it a couple of years ago.”

Scott’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Did you like it?”

Volta waggled her hand in a so-so gesture. “It’s not terrible. Very rich.”

“Is this Libby’s test to see if I’m open to new experiences?”

“Probably. She seems determined that anyone who spends time here needs to taste it. I think she figures if you won’t try her food, why should she trust your judgment?”

“She has a point. Sharing food is a bonding experience.”

“Yes.” She and Scott used to love trying out the different cuisines of the Hawaiian Islands. Scott had given her her first taste of poke, a raw diced fish she still craved from time to time. And then there was their favorite restaurant. “Remember that little noodle place over by the college?” As soon as she said it, she regretted bringing it up. The last thing she should do was talk about their history together.

But Scott smiled. “I’ve never found yakisoba as good anywhere else.”

Volta’s phone rang. She checked the screen. “It’s my mom. Why don’t you head on over and I’ll be there in a few minutes?”

“I’ll wait.”

Volta nodded and answered the phone. “Hi. I was just about to call you. You heard about the volcano?”

“Yes, they put out a bulletin. Where are you?”

“I’m in Sparks, and it looks like we’ll be here for the night at least, possibly more. Are you okay keeping Emma?”

“Of course. They’re not sure if they’ll have school tomorrow. It depends on how the ash falls over the next couple of hours. Anyway, Emma will be fine with us. We’re going to paint birdhouses this afternoon.”

“That sounds fun. Say, I ordered her birthday cake a month ago, but would you mind calling the bakery to verify?”

“All that sugar.” Volta could almost hear her mother shaking her head. “Are you sure you want to serve cake?”

Volta laughed. “Mom, it’s a birthday party. Absolutely, we want cake.” Volta was in middle school when her mother had decided to cut sugar out of their diet. In mutual rebellion, Volta, her brother and her dad used to sneak to the bakery during Mom’s tai chi class on Saturday mornings and indulge in the most sugar-laden treats they could find.

“I could make cookies for the party,” Mom offered.

Volta rolled her eyes. What her mom called cookies were more like organic hockey pucks. She couldn’t imagine any of the children at the party would eat them. On the other hand, the party was at a reindeer farm, and they might make a good substitute for alfalfa pellets. She’d have to ask her friend Marissa, who ran the farm, if Mom’s cookies would upset the reindeer’s digestion. “Sure, Mom, but we’ll have birthday cake, too. And you’ll be happy to know, we’re also having fruit and vegetable trays.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess. Here, your daughter wants to talk to you.”

“Mommy?”

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Grandma says you probably can’t come home tonight because of the volcano.”

“I’m afraid she’s right. We flew into a village, but we can’t fly back out until the ash is out of the air.”

“Why?” One of Emma’s favorite questions. Sometimes, Volta felt as though she’d earned an advanced degree just from looking up the answers for Emma.

But this one she knew. “Because volcanic ash is made up of tiny, tiny little rocks, and if the rocks get into the engines on the plane, they could make the engines stop running and then the plane couldn’t fly anymore.”

“Oh. Will you be back for my birthday?”

“I should be. It’s not until Saturday, and I imagine the volcano will have gone back to sleep by then, don’t you think?”

“Maybe somebody should sing it a lullaby.”

Volta laughed. “Or read it a bedtime story?”

“Yeah, like the one about the moon.”

“That’s a good one.”

“Everybody’s coming to my party. Madison wasn’t sure she could because she had a piano lesson, but her mom says she can skip it just this once because she wants to see the reindeer at the farm.”

“I’m glad she can make it.”

“Ryan’s so lucky he gets to live on the reindeer farm all the time. With horses.”

“You’re lucky, too. You get to live at our house, and sometimes at Grandma and Grandpa’s, and sometimes with Leith.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. Uncle Leith said Sabrina wants to take me to that new movie. With the princesses.”

“That will be fun.”

“The bake sale at school is tomorrow.” A gust of wind rattled the window and sent ash swirling.