Her brown eyes soft, Atuska looked at him. “The Aleutians, on a small island not far from Unalaska. It was a good place to be a child.” A look of whimsy settled on her face. “My mother and I used to pick berries. They were so delicious. And when my father and brothers would return with a kill, we would have a celebration. What fun we had.” She looked at Mattie. “I wish you could see how it was. We would have such a wonderful party.”
She returned to her memories. “We all brought food and sometimes gifts, and we would feast and dance. The men told stories.” Her eyes sparkled. “When I was small, many of the tales frightened me. The storytellers were very good.” She continued to drink her tea. “My favorite thing was the blanket toss.” She chuckled. “I was very good. I didn't weigh very much, so the people would throw me up and I would sail so high I could see all the way to the other end of the village, sometimes even beyond to where the waves splashed against the rocks.” She closed her eyes. “How I would like to go there again.”
“I wish I could take you, but there's a war,” Mattie said. “The Japanese captured the islands, and it's too dangerous to go there.”
Atuska looked at her granddaughter. “I know, but it is still fun to think of it.” Finishing her tonic, she returned the cup to Mattie, then closed her eyes. Soon her breathing became heavy, her body relaxed. She was asleep.
Mattie returned to the kitchen and set the cup in the washbasin. Luke joined her. He leaned against the drain board. “I bet she has some really good stories.”
“She does. Ask her and she will tell you some—maybe even more than you want to hear.” She gazed at the old woman. “I wish I could take her to her home.”
“Maybe you can when the war ends.”
“I don't think that will be soon enough.” Mattie took Luke's hand in hers, pressed it against his chest, and rested her cheek on his wool shirt. His heart thumped steady and strong. “I hate the war.”
Luke banked the fire in the small barrel stove in the corner of the cabin. In truth, their little house wasn't a cabin. It was a modified shed that sat only yards from Mattie's mother's house. For now it was comfortable enough, but Luke planned on building a proper home as soon as finances allowed.
He climbed into bed beside Mattie and cuddled close. “You're cold,” she said.
“I know. It's freezing in here. I'd build a bigger fire, but I'm afraid it will get too hot and catch the house on fire.” Luke pulled her close. “We'll have a better place soon. I promise.” He kissed the back of her neck.
Mattie didn't reply. She stared at the wall where the soft light of the moon illuminated rough timber.
“Is something wrong? You were quiet all through supper.”
“I've been thinking...about you and Ray. I wish you could patch up your differences. Your mother told me they would like us to stay with them, and I think it would be better than living here.”
“Why is everyone so concerned about me and Ray? I don't know if I can change. I don't even know if I want to.”
“You can. I thought you wanted to.”
“Mattie, it's not that easy,” Luke said, softening his tone. “Anyway, I figure we'll get our differences ironed out eventually—just not yet.” He nuzzled her neck. “I found a piece of land. I think it'll work for us.”
Mattie stiffened. She didn't want to talk about land. She wanted to move away.
“It's a good patch of ground, and not far out of town. You could walk into Palmer if you had a mind to, which would be good once we have kids. That way you could get them to and from school without much fuss. You could even take them to the doctor's if they got sick. And I thought it would be good if—”
“Luke, I'm tired. I want to go to sleep.” Mattie burrowed into her pillow.
“Oh. I just thought we could talk about it for a few minutes, but if you're tired…” He rolled over abruptly and turned down the lantern. A moment later he sat up and fluffed his pillow, then dropped back down, his back to Mattie.
She knew he was hurt, but she didn't have the energy to talk about how their lives would be. Luke always envisioned a farm here in the valley, and she wanted out, anywhere on the outside. She stared into the semidarkness, listening to the pop of wood in the stove.
“Mattie,” Luke said softly, “you awake?”
“Uh-huh.”
Luke was silent a moment, then asked, “You don't want to stay, do you?”
Mattie didn't answer immediately. What was there to talk about? If they stayed, she'd be unhappy; if they left, he'd be unhappy. No way was right for them.
“Mattie?”
“No. I don't want to stay,” she said softly.
“Why not? Both of our families are here. We have friends. It's right for us.”
Mattie rolled over and faced Luke. She lifted his hand and kissed a fingertip. “You're a good man, Luke, and I love you. But this is something you don't seem to be able to understand. I don't know why. Even before I moved to Seattle I told you how I felt, that I wanted to leave. But you always act as if we should stay and that it's good for both of us. It's not.”
“You've barely mentioned leaving since I got back. How can I know how you feel?” He sat up. “When you moved here from Seattle, you didn't come because of me. Why did you return?”
“I thought you were dead, and I needed my family.”
Luke was quiet. “I'd figured you'd gotten over all that Indian stuff.”
“Indian stuff?” Instantly angry, Mattie pressed her lips together. She knew better than to speak immediately. “When you say ‘Indian stuff,’ it sounds like you think I'm being silly, like what I feel is ridiculous.”
“I don't think that. I just thought you were better, that's all.”
Mattie sat up and hugged her knees. “I'm not. Nothing has really changed. And it's not Indian stuff, it's my life—the way people look at me, the things they say and don't say...the humiliation. I don't want my children to go through what I have.”
“You think that just because we move away from Alaska you and any children we might have won't face troubles, that people won't be cruel? I'm not an Indian. I don't have one ounce of Indian blood, but I've had my share of people's poison.” His voice was angry.
“It's not the same.” Mattie's mind returned to parties she couldn't attend, children who wouldn't play with her or taunted her, and adults who would rather cross the street than walk past her. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against her knees. The wounds inside still festered. She doubted they would ever heal.
She looked at Luke. “Of all people, I thought you would understand. You're supposed to love me.” She blinked back tears. “I can't even count the number of times people have snubbed me or humiliated me because of what they saw when they looked at me.” She punched the mattress with her feet. “I won't let that happen to my children.”
“Mattie, it isn't going to be like that. I won't let it.”