Whisper to the Blood Page 4

  Mercifully, he did not comment on its being a school day, which Johnny was belatedly realizing could be a question raised by everyone who knew who he was and who he lived with. “Good,” Johnny said, “we’re both good. Tony, this is my friend Vanessa.”

  Vanessa looked startled. It was the first time Johnny had called her anything but Van. Johnny pretended not to notice, too busy pretending to be a grown-up.

  “Hey, Vanessa,” Tony said, giving her an appraising look as he shook her hand. He winked at Johnny. “You hungry?”

  “Stan cooking?” Stan being Tony’s partner in life and in the Ahtna Lodge and the genius behind the steak sandwiches that were a magnet for everyone within a hundred miles.

  “That he is.”

  “Then we’re starving. Can we get a table by the window?”

  Tony looked over his shoulder. “Give me five minutes, and it’s yours.”

  “Thanks, Tony.”

  They were seated and they both ordered the specialty of the house. In the interval, two virgin daiquiris arrived, ice and syrup and strawberries whipped to a froth and swirled into glasses the size of hubcaps.

  A delighted smile spread across Van’s face.

  “Uh,” Johnny said, loath to see the smile go away. “We didn’t order these, Tony.”

  Tony nodded at the bar. “Courtesy of your friend.”

  Uh-oh. Johnny turned his head, hoping against hope it wasn’t anybody like Ahtna police chief Kenny Hazen, who would be sure to mention that he’d seen Johnny in Ahtna on a school day the next time he saw Jim.

  It wasn’t Chief Hazen. It was instead someone almost as tall, but with a rangier build and a broad face that smiled at Johnny from beneath the bill of a Colorado Rockies ball cap.

  “Who is that?” Vanessa said.

  “I don’t—” Johnny stopped. “Doyle?” He half rose from his chair, his voice uncertain. “Doyle Greenbaugh?”

  Greenbaugh’s laugh was hearty. He walked to their table and smacked Johnny’s hand in an enthusiastic grip. “For a minute I thought you didn’t recognize me. How you doing, Johnny?”

  “For a minute I didn’t,” Johnny said, returning Greenbaugh’s handshake. “What are you doing in Alaska, Doyle?”

  Greenbaugh shrugged, still grinning. “It’s your fault. You made it sound pretty good. I figured I’d come up and see how much you were bullshitting me.” He nodded over Johnny’s shoulder. “Who’s your friend?”

  Johnny, on his first date with his first—he was pretty sure—his first real girlfriend, could not resist the urge to show off a little. “Doyle,” he said proudly, “this is Vanessa Cox.” He’d even remembered to introduce the girl first. “Van, this is Doyle Greenbaugh.” He hesitated, and then said, “I know him from Outside.”

  “How do, ma’am,” Greenbaugh said. He actually removed his cap and even gave a nod that was halfway to a bow.

  Vanessa, as yet unaccustomed to male deference to the fairer sex, tried for a regal inclination of the head in reply. Her pinkened cheeks gave her away, though.

  “We drove in for lunch,” Johnny said, adding manfully, “Would you like to join us?”

  Greenbaugh waved a hand. “No, no, I don’t want to intrude.” He turned his head so Vanessa couldn’t see, and winked. I won’t horn in on your action.

  Johnny felt his ears get hot, and mumbled something in reply.

  “We should get together and catch up, though,” Greenbaugh said. “You live in Ahtna? I thought it was another town, can’t remember the name of it. Ninilchik?” He mispronounced it “NIN-il-chik.” You could always tell when someone was new to the state by how badly they mangled the place names.

  “Actually, it was Anchorage,” Johnny said, “but it’s Niniltna now.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Nuh-NILT-nuh.”

  “Niniltna,” Greenbaugh said. “That close to here?”

  “East, up a gravel road a hundred miles or so.”

  “It the size of this place?”

  Johnny laughed. “Not hardly. Only a couple hundred people.”

  Greenbaugh made a face. “That small, probably no jobs.”

  “You looking for work?”

  Greenbaugh shrugged. “Gotta eat.”

  “There’s an outfit starting up a gold mine in the Park,” Johnny said impulsively. Van, sitting with her eyes downcast, looked at Johnny briefly and then down again. “They say there are going to be a lot of jobs in it.”

  Greenbaugh brightened. “A gold mine?”

  “I could maybe talk to somebody for you.”

  “Man, I’d appreciate that.”

  “Well, it’s not like I don’t owe you,” Johnny said. Van looked up again, dark eyes on his face. “You staying here in Ahtna?”

  “Yeah, I got a room here.”

  “Got transportation?”

  “Got a little Nissan pickup, packed with all my worldly belongings. Which ain’t much.”

  “What happened to your rig?”

  Greenbaugh grimaced. “One deadhead too many. Bank repossessed her.”

  “Damn. I’m sorry, Doyle.”

  “Luck of the draw. Why I came north, start over.”

  “Lot of people do that,” Johnny said. “Lot of people drop their past life at the Beaver Creek border crossing.”

  Greenbaugh grinned. “You seen a lot of that in your long life, have you?”

  Johnny felt his ears get red again. “It’s just something Kate says.”

  “Who’s Kate? Vanessa’s competition?” He grinned at Vanessa, who didn’t grin back.

  For a moment Johnny was stumped for a reply. “Kate’s who I live with. She’s my legal guardian. You probably forgot, but my dad’s dead, and my mom’s . . . well, my mom’s out of the picture.”

  Greenbaugh gave a thoughtful nod. “I remember now. Your mom’s the one stuck you with your grandparents in Arizona. You didn’t like it, so you left. This Kate was who you were headed for when we met?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s she do?”

  Johnny shrugged. “Whatever she can do to make a buck.”

  Greenbaugh raised an eyebrow.

  Johnny flushed beet red. “Not that!” he said. “Jeez! What I mean is she’s like any other Park rat, she hunts, fishes, traps sometimes.” Johnny felt Vanessa look at him again, and avoided looking back. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell Greenbaugh what Kate did for a living. It wasn’t like Greenbaugh wouldn’t know five minutes after he stepped into the Park. Or even if he stuck around Ahtna long enough.

  “Park rat?” Greenbaugh said.

  Johnny laughed a little too loudly, relieved at the change of subject. “It’s what we call ourselves.”

  “‘Ourselves’?”

  “I’m a Park rat now, too,” Johnny said, betraying his youth with his pride.

  Greenbaugh shrugged. “Okay. Any place decent for a man to stay in Niniltna?”

  “Nuh-NILT-nuh,” Johnny said again. Again, he hesitated, and then said, “Sure, just ask the way to Auntie Vi’s, she runs a B and B in town. I’ll tell her you’re coming.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks, kid.”

  “Thanks for the drinks.”

  “Be seeing you.” Greenbaugh sketched a wave and was gone. Johnny sat back down.

  “How do you know him?” Vanessa said.

  At that moment Stanislav himself brought out their steak sandwiches, a platter upon which red meat sizzled with a heavenly aroma, and everything else was put on hold.

  But Vanessa hadn’t forgotten, and on their way home and safely past the Lost Chance Creek Bridge she said, “How do you know that Greenbaugh guy?”

  Johnny negotiated a turn with care. “It’s just somebody I met on the way home from Arizona. You heard him.”

  “Hey, look, another moose,” Vanessa said. “What’s that make, the tenth or twelfth one we’ve seen today? Annie says when they come down out of the mountains this early it means a long cold winter.” She turned to him again. “Come on, Johnny. Wh
o is that guy?”

  Johnny sighed. “Okay. Remember I told you my mom sent me to Arizona when my dad died?”

  “Yes. You told me the two of you didn’t get along.”

  That was an understatement. “No. We don’t.” In a burst of candor he added, “I don’t think she even liked me that much. Mostly she just used me to piss off Dad.”

  Van said nothing, and Johnny appreciated her tact. “So when he died, she didn’t need me around anymore, so she sent me to her folks in Arizona.”

  “And you didn’t like it there.”

  “No,” he said, very definitely. “So I hitchhiked home. Doyle Greenbaugh was one of the guys who picked me up. He was driving a semi. He picked me up outside Phoenix and took me all the way to Seattle.”

  “Oh.” She digested this in silence for a moment. “So he followed you up here? That’s kinda creepy.”

  Johnny shrugged. “It was a long drive. We talked a lot. He asked me where I was going, and I told him I was going home. He’d never been to Alaska, and he wanted to know what it was like.” And he hadn’t asked Johnny any uncomfortable questions, like why somebody Johnny’s age was standing with his thumb out on an interstate in the middle of the night. “He was a good guy, and he didn’t try anything.”

  She knew a faint chill. “Did someone else? Johnny?”

  He shifted in his seat. “Maybe. Yeah.” He risked a look at her. “Don’t worry, I figured out what was going on in time and I bailed before anything happened.”

  She swallowed. “That’s . . . that’s awful, Johnny.”

  “Woulda been,” he said. “Wasn’t. I was careful.”

  “And lucky.”

  “And lucky,” he said, nodding. He hadn’t thought about it at the time, but he’d thought about it after, or he had when Kate had finally stopped yelling at him. He had been very lucky.

  Van said, “How come your mom lets you live with Kate?”

  “I’m sixteen now, so it’s my choice. But before, when I got here? I think Kate blackmailed her.”

  Van turned her head to stare at him, eyes wide, and grabbed for the dash when the truck jounced through a pothole. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “What did she blackmail her with?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. All I cared about was staying with Kate, and Kate made it happen. She made Jane give her custody.” He smiled at her. “And here I am.”

  She drew a deep breath. “Yeah. Yes, you are. Did I say thank you for today? It’s been fun.”

  “Yeah,” he said, happily. “It has, hasn’t it?”

  “Pull over,” she said impulsively.

  “Huh?”

  “Pull over. There, at that trailhead.”

  “How come?” Johnny said, obediently pulling over and putting the pickup into park.

  “So I can do this.” She slid across the bench seat and put her arms around his neck. She smiled at him, a little shyly, and kissed him. Her lips were warm and soft, and she smelled faintly of flowers, and maybe a little bit of wood smoke.

  “Wow,” he said, dazed, when she raised her head.

  Her cheeks were pink. “There,” she said. “Our first kiss. Now we don’t have to fumble around worrying about if you want to, or if I want you to.”

  “I want to,” he said fervently. “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

  “I know,” she said. “I wasn’t ready.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, anxious that she wouldn’t take his comment as a rebuke.

  “Yes, it is,” she said smartly, and he had to laugh.

  They drove home in a glow of delicious contentment. They got back to Niniltna at about three thirty, safely past the hour school let out, and they stopped by Auntie Vi’s. They found her in her net loft, a length of salmon net draped in front of her, thin green monofilament in a spool at her feet, the needle a blur as she mended the holes put in it by last summer’s salmon catch. “Hey, girl,” she said as they came up the stairs. “You want job?”

  “I’ve never mended nets before, Auntie,” Vanessa said.

  Auntie Vi waved a hand. “No problem, I teach. Tomorrow morning, you come.” She eyed Johnny. “What you want?”

  Wise in the ways of Auntie Vi, Johnny was not put off by this brusque inquiry, and told her she might have a paying guest shortly.

  She grunted. “Maybe I got room, maybe I don’t.”

  “Maybe he’ll come and maybe he won’t,” Johnny said promptly.

  “You watch that mouth before your elders!” Auntie Vi said, but he saw the corners of her mouth twitch irrepressibly upward as they left.

  When he drew up outside Annie Mike’s, he made as if to kiss Van. She warded him off. “Not where people can see us,” she said. “That kind of thing should be private, and personal. Besides, we’d have to answer a bunch of questions, and then Annie’d want to have the talk again, and she’d tell Kate—”

  He held up a hand in pretend despair. “Got the picture. I am convinced.” He smiled at her. “But you want to.”

  She laughed, and hesitated. “Listen, Johnny. This Greenbaugh guy?”

  “Yeah?”

  Her brow creased, and she looked down at her clasped hands. He waited. She looked up and said simply, “He has eyes like a calculator.”

  There was a brief, startled silence.

  “I don’t know what that means,” Johnny said tentatively. “I’m guessing you don’t like him?”

  She chose not to answer him, or to answer only obliquely. “He gave you a ride when you needed one, and he didn’t try to mess with you. Those are good things.”

  “But?”

  She looked up to give him a grave smile. “I don’t know, exactly. I just get the feeling there is a lot more going on there than he lets on.”

  It was one thing for him to second-guess Greenbaugh’s sudden appearance. It was another to fall in with Van’s doubts. Johnny snorted. “Him and every second Park rat we know.”

  “Yeah.” She slid out of the pickup. “Thanks again for today. I had a good time.”

  “Me, too. Tomorrow?”

  She shook her head. “I’d love to, but I’m working for Auntie Vi tomorrow.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right.”

  “What do we say if they find out we skipped school?”

  “Don’t lie,” he said.

  “Will Kate ground you?”

  He grinned and patted the steering wheel, chock-full of sixteen years’ worth of bravado. “She can try.”

  CHAPTER 4

  October 15

  “What?” Kate said.

  Auntie Joy beamed at her. “You chairman of board, Katya.” She applauded, and was joined in that action immediately and with attitude by Old Sam Dementieff, more moderately by Demetri Totemoff, and belatedly and without enthusiasm by Harvey Meganack. Harvey was sitting on Kate’s right and she could almost warm her hands on his resentment. He was dressed in gray slacks and a white button-down shirt. He hadn’t actually put on a tie, but there was the sense that he would have if he knew the effort wouldn’t have been wasted on the rest of them, not to mention ridiculed by every Park rat who saw him that day.

  Demetri sat on Harvey’s other side in jeans, blue flannel shirt, and dark blue fleece vest. Next to him and across from Kate was Auntie Joy, a plump little brown bird with bright eyes and long graying hair tucked into a neat bun skewered with lacquered red chopsticks. The red matched her blouse, long-sleeved and loose over the elastic waistband of black polyester slacks. Auntie Joy always matched and was always comfortable.

  Old Sam, dressed in Carhartt bib overalls and a faded black and red plaid shirt worn bare at the elbows, sat exactly midway between Auntie Joy and Kate, smelling aggressively of the summer’s fishing season and not about to apologize for it.

  “Wait a minute,” Kate said. At Auntie Joy’s words, any outward calmness of demeanor she had assumed before arriving at the Niniltna Native Association building that morning had deserted her. Now something
close to panic was crawling over her skin with delicate spider feet. “I said I’d be on the board. I didn’t say I’d be chairman.”

  “You’re the only one who could be, girl.” Old Sam looked at Harvey, who scowled at the top of the round table occupying center stage in the Association board room. “The only other candidate failed to gather a majority.”

  In spite of herself Kate’s voice rose. “We didn’t even vote yet.”

  “The board had an ad hoc meeting last night.”

  “Nobody told me.”

  Old Sam gave Harvey a sardonic look from beneath bristly brows. “Can’t understand that.”

  “Anyway,” Kate said, feeling desperate and not working real hard to conceal it, “I thought the shareholders vote on who’s chairman. The same way we vote on board members.”

  Demetri, a short, stocky man with dark hair, steady eyes, and a stubborn jaw, said, “In the event of the death of a current member of the board, the bylaws allow the board to name a replacement. The candidate must be a shareholder and must be of legal age. The bylaws also allow the board to name a new chair. Both are interim appointments until the next annual shareholder meeting, when the entire membership votes to accept or reject the slate of officers.”

  “In January,” Auntie Joy said helpfully, still beaming.

  January, Kate thought numbly. January 15th. Three very long months from now. “I wasn’t here,” she said. “I didn’t get to vote.”

  “Wouldna mattered,” Old Sam said, “you weren’t on the board yet, so you didn’t have a vote anyway. And even if you were, the vote was three to one,” and he smiled, not at all amiably, at Harvey, whose grinding of teeth was audible.

  “But—” Kate was beginning to feel like she was lost in the middle of a Joseph Heller novel.

  “It’s done, girl,” Old Sam said, and slid a piece of paper down the table. “Let’s get on with it. I’ve got other things to do today.”

  The piece of paper proved to be the agenda for the meeting, embossed with the Niniltna Native Association logo.