Bobby Hutchinson - Past Lies

Theo led the way. Inside the wide front doors of the sprawling log building, Alex glanced at the framed photos lining both walls he’d noticed earlier. There were color snapshots of smiling guests holding trophy fish, but there were also older black-and-white shots of men and women wearing clothing from the turn of the century. But he was quickly distracted by the wonderful smells that wafted down the long hallway from the direction of the kitchen, and he sniffed in hungry anticipation.

“Caity, love, Tom’s here,” Theo bellowed and within moments Caitlin Galloway came hurrying along the long hall to meet them, her handsome face wreathed in smiles. Her white hair piled on top of her head, she wore a white bibbed apron to protect her snug blue jeans.

She was attractive, not just physically—although she had glowing skin and a figure much younger women might envy—but also because of her warmth and kindness. Now he noticed that she had the same high cheekbones and gray eyes as her brother.

Earlier, she’d led him to the kitchen where a compact, ageless little woman was busy rolling and then flopping dough into eight pie plates. Her back was to Alex, and at first he saw only thick, inky black hair, braided and rolled into a knot.

“Mavis Armitage, meet Alex Ladrovik. He’s the one going to build the cabins for Theo,” Caitlin had announced. “We eat breakfast and dinner with the guests, but we usually have lunch here in the kitchen.”

When Mavis turned, Alex had tried to hide his shock at the sight of her disfigured face. He’d seen burn victims, and he guessed that was likely what had left the puckered scars and discolored flesh that marred one side of her face and extended down her neck.

“Pleased to meet you, Mavis.” Alex had smiled at the older woman and extended his hand. The defensive expression in her eyes told him she’d noticed his first involuntary reaction.

“Can’t you see I’m up to my eyeballs in pie dough here?” She turned back to her work without another word. Mavis obviously wasn’t anyone to mess with.

Those pies were baking now. Alex could smell the cinnamon and apples. His stomach grumbled and his mouth watered.

Caitlin gave her brother an exuberant hug and kissed his cheek. “Is Ivy going to stay and have supper with us?”

“Not tonight. She’ll be here in a while delivering your skiers, but she can’t make it for supper,” Tom said. “She has a date.”

“Oh, too bad for us. That young doctor?”

Tom nodded.

“Sage was looking forward to a visit with her,” Caitlin said. “Well, there’s always a next time. Now, if you men want to make yourselves comfortable in the living room, Mavis and I’ll finish up in the kitchen and then I’ll join you for a drink.”

A few moments later, Alex was admiring the massive tumble rock fireplace that dominated one wall of the large living room. Above it was an oil painting of a handsome couple. Here, too, the clothing indicated that the painting was probably turn-of-the-century.

“Relatives?” Alex gestured at the painting.

“My grandmother and grandfather,” Theo said.

“This whole place is remarkable,” Alex commented, running a hand over a rough-hewn beam. “How long have you lived here, Theo?”

“All my life. I was born here and so was my father.” Theo indicated the painting with a wave of his hand. “That’s his father, William Galloway. He built the place. Raven’s been in the Galloway family since the turn of the century.”

Alex was impressed. “How did your ancestors come to settle here?”

“We’ll have lots of time for that when we’re working on the cabins,” Theo said. “Right now, it’s time for a drink.”

“Families don’t stay put anymore,” Tom grumbled. “Everybody’s got itchy feet, coming and going all over the place. Don’t know what they’re all looking for that they can’t find at home.”

Alex wondered if that was yet another poke in his direction.

“Not me and Caity,” Theo said. “We never wanted to be anywhere but here. Still don’t.” He opened the door of a tall highboy, revealing a well-equipped bar. “Tom, I know your poison. Alex, how about you? Rye, rum, beer?”

“A beer would be great,” Alex said, and Theo handed him a bottle and a glass and then poured rye for himself and Tom.

The older men, glasses in hand, each took one of the deep armchairs that flanked the worn leather sofa. Alex sank into its soft cushions. He poured his beer and took a grateful sip, listening to the easy flow of family conversation.

“You and Ivy keeping busy, Tom?”

“Not bad at all. Way better than last year. Seems we’re getting more tourists in April than we’ve had before.”

Theo nodded. “We’re noticing the same thing. We’re fully booked for April and May, and then right through to September.” Theo turned to Alex. “Tom and his daughter run a flight service in Valdez called Up And Away. Tom has his own floatplane, the Beaver, and Ivy flies a Bell Ranger. We’ve started doing package tours for skiers—they stay here and Tom or Ivy flies them up the slopes. You a skier, Alex?”

“I’ve never tried, never wanted to. I was never much good at sports.” And the very thought of being ferried up a mountain by helicopter made him queasy. He couldn’t help but wonder what type of woman would choose to be a pilot. He boarded planes only out of dire necessity, getting miserably airsick and hating every moment his feet were off the ground. “Did your daughter learn to fly in the military, Tom?”

“Nope, I did. Vietnam.” He tapped his right thigh. “Shrapnel left me with a bum leg.” He paused as a loud whirring announced the arrival of a helicopter. “That’ll be Ivy,” he said, and Alex noted the way his voice softened and his weathered, stern features softened.

A few moments later Caitlin walked in, her arm around a tall young woman’s slender waist.

“Hey, Ivy honey, good to see you,” Theo said, getting to his feet and embracing her. “How’s my favorite niece?”

“About as fine as my favorite uncle.” She waved a hand in Tom’s direction. “Hey, Captain, long time no see.” Then she turned curiously to Alex. “Hi there,” she said with a wide, welcoming smile.

“Alex Ladrovik, my niece, Ivy Pierce,” Caitlin introduced.

“How do you do, Ivy?” Alex stood as she came toward him with her hand outstretched. They were close to the same height, which put her just over six feet.

“Pleased to meet you, Alex. Ladrovik, have I got that right?”

When he nodded, she said, “That’s an unusual name. Russian?”

“Yes, originally.” Alex had taken her strong hand in his, feeling more than a little disconcerted by the initial effect she was having on him.

Ivy would stand out in any surroundings, and not just because of her height. There was something magnetic about her. He found it difficult to look anywhere else.

“We have a lot of people of Russian heritage in Alaska. So where are you from, Alex?”

“San Diego.” She wasn’t exactly movie-star beautiful. Her father’s straight, narrow nose was perhaps a little too long on her. She had his high, elegant cheekbones, accentuating a squarish face. Her full, lush mouth was a trifle wide above a strong, no-nonsense jawline. And her hair gleamed like polished copper. Thick and curly, it was cropped shorter than his, clinging close to her elegant, narrow head. She had clear golden skin, translucent in the firelight, but her most arresting feature was her eyes. They were a peculiar shade of light green, the color of the Granny Smith apples his mother had always preferred for pies, and they were framed by long dark lashes.

“Think you’ll like it north of 60, Alex?”

He had to stop staring at her. “I’m sure I will.”