Page 93 of I Do, I Do, I Do
“I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about the ship and putting up with her dying again.” She sighed heavily. “Remember cleaning her up, and scrubbing vomit off the floor, and washing her nightgown in a basin the size of a thimble? Compared to saving her life, making this journey more endurable is hardly worth a thank-you. The way I see it, she’ll never be out of our debt so we might as well continue to annoy her with gifts and favors.”
“You’re making me sound foolish and ungrateful!”
“Yes,” they shouted in unison.
Zoe glared and then suddenly burst into laughter. “Oh, lordy, just listen to me. I’m angry at Juliette for paying Tom. I’m furious at Tom for making this awful trek a little easier. Thatisfoolish.” Jumping to Juliette’s cot, she gave Juliette a fierce hug and then she embraced Clara, careful not to jostle her sling. “Thank you both.”
Clara smiled. “I sure didn’t think any of us would be laughing tonight.”
“Or ever again,” Juliette added.
“I wouldn’t have laughed if it weren’t for you two.” Zoe fumbled for her handkerchief. “I’m such a mess. First I’m laughing, and now I’m crying. Is this how it’s going to be?”
It seemed so. Every night for the next four weeks, they tumbled into their sleeping bags at night, exhausted from the day’s labor and worn out by conflicting and quickly changing emotions. Sometimes they began conversations with, “Do you remember? …” and ended by laughing until their sides ached. Then someone would sigh, and the tears started.
At the beginning of their sixth week on the trail, Clara insisted on taking a turn running behind a sled and insisted that they rotate riding. As a consequence of a day of rest every third day, they weren’t as bone-weary as they had been traveling in the other direction, and their pace improved on the days Juliette rode in the sled.
“Luc says we’ll cut at least two weeks if the weather holds and we continue the present pace,” Zoe remarked, lowering her face over a steaming cup of coffee. They stood near Henry’s cookstove, stamping their feet occasionally to warm their toes. The long hours of darkness did nothing to dispel the frigid temperatures. At night the mercury dropped to thirty degrees below zero. The daytime high might rise to fifteen below.
Clara waved steam at her face. “I’ll never forget how beautiful it is up here. The mountains, the snow…It takes my breath away. And the wildlife. Today I saw an eagle and a moose and a wolf.”
“Spring must be lovely,” Juliette said through her muffler. Her eyes rolled toward them. “What are we going to do when we get back to Seattle? Are we going to keep looking for Jean Jacques?”
“I don’t have the stomach to kill him. Not now.”
“I’d like to get my money back, but he probably doesn’t have it anymore.”
“I’ve thought about it, and I’m going to Loma Grande.” Juliette nodded to herself. “I don’t have anything else to do. So I’m going to find him, and I’m going to spit in his face.”
“Well,mein Gott!” Clara stared. “Ifyou’regoing to Loma Grande, then I’m going, too!” They looked at Zoe.
“You know,” she said, “I’m getting mad again. Maybe I do have the stomach to shoot Jean Jacques. Because of him, the man I love turned and walked away. I know, I know. I lied to Tom. But I wouldn’t have had to lie if it weren’t for Jean Jacques.” She threw her coffee on the snow. “Yes, I have a few things to say to that rotten bastard. And yes, I’m going with you to Loma Grande!”
“We’ll line up, and we’ll all spit on him,” Juliette promised. “I can’t believe I ever thought I loved that liar and cheat! I didn’t know what love really is until Ben.”
That’s when they learned that crying outside was not a sensible act. At thirty degrees below zero, tears freeze on a woman’s cheek.
Chapter 22
If anything, the voyage to the States was worse than the three Mmes Villette had dreaded it would be. The first steamer out of Dyea was theWhite Star, bound for San Francisco. They could leave immediately on theWhite Star, but Zoe would have to endure an additional week at sea to reach California, or they could wait a month in Dyea to catch a shorter voyage to Seattle. They opted to sail at once on theWhite Star, and Clara and Juliette dragged Zoe on board, where she became violently ill before theWhite Starweighed anchor.
The voyage was as much a nightmare as their first had been, with fierce winter weather tossed in for good measure. TheWhite Starrode the waves like a cork bobbing on giant seas. They all believed Zoe hovered at death’s door. Zoe hoped it was true and begged to die and end her torment. Clara and Juliette considered obliging her. They wore themselves to a frazzle tending a patient who cursed them, shouted at them, taxed their nerves, and threw up on their skirts.
All three wept with relief when theWhite Stardropped anchor in the San Francisco Bay. And when they set foot on the wharves they wept because they would far rather have been in the frozen Yukon instead of in California where the days were longer and the sun was full and warm. They had left their hearts in the icy north.
To allow Zoe time to recuperate, they spent a week at the California Astor Hotel where Juliette insisted on taking a suite as a treat for everyone.
“This beauty cream isn’t as effective as lard,” Clara complained, examining her cheeks in the sitting-room mirror. “Look at my skin. It’s as chapped and raw as if I just came in from seven hours behind a sled.”
Juliette glanced up from the book she was trying to read. “Your skin is beautiful. And your new dress is definitely an improvement. Now if we could only persuade you to do something about those clunky shoes…”
Zoe edged Clara aside and examined her reflection with a critical eye. “I think my hair is starting to regain some luster. But I’m still too thin.” She inspected Juliette in the mirror. “Your hair looks quite elegant today.”
“Well, aren’t we being nice and polite.” Juliette set her book aside. “This might be a good time to request your advice.” Frowning, she gazed at the scrolled tin ceiling. “Since I can’t have the future I want, none of us can, I’ve been thinking about the future I can have.”
Clara and Zoe took facing chairs and gave her their full attention. “Go on,” Clara urged. “What future are you considering?”
“It’s occurred to me that I’ve never enjoyed my inheritance or done anything useful with it. I’d like to change that. I’ve decided I won’t return to Linda Vista because I don’t want to deal with small-town gossip and because it would be too easy to fall into old habits and let Aunt Kibble make my decisions.” She drew a breath. “I’m thinking of buying a home in a large city. Perhaps Seattle.”
