Laurel was too cold to argue. “All right,” she said, heading for the house and huddling against the snow and wind. She knocked her boots free of snow, pulled open the back door, and stepped inside. Warmth and the smell of fresh baked bread greeted her. Pulling off her coat and gloves, she hung them just inside the door.
A moment later the door opened, and cold swept inside along with her mother. Jean examined Laurel's face, ears, and hands for frostbite. “Why didn't you get someone to help you?” she asked again, stripping off her coat and gloves. She hung them beside Laurel's.
“I don't know. I saw the tree and thought I could do it.”
“It was foolish. You have to think, Laurel, if you want to stay alive here.” Her voice was sharp.
“I know. I'm sorry, Mama.”
“Well, as long as you're all right I suppose it's a good lesson. You're lucky you have no frostbite.” She stepped into the kitchen and stared out the window. “The storm blew in all of a sudden. I hope your father and brother are all right.”
“I'm sure they're fine. Winter storms aren't new to them.”
“Yes, but we don't know what to expect here.”
Laurel warmed herself at the stove. “It smells good. How long until supper?”
“Not long. There's a letter for you.” Jean nodded toward the table.
“A letter? From whom?”
“Adam.”
Laurel's heart leaped, and she nearly skipped to the table, snatching up the envelope. She started to open it, then decided she'd rather read it in private. “I'll read it in my room,” she said, hurrying up the stairs.
Closing her bedroom door, she sat on the bed, took a deep breath, and tore open the envelope. Two newspaper articles written by Adam fell out. She set them aside and started reading.
“Dear Laurel,” it began, “I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, but I've been very busy. Just as I'd hoped, the paper sent me overseas. I'm sitting here at my desk looking out over a London street. I can hardly believe my good fortune.”
Laurel's heart sank. London? That's so far away. She continued reading.
“This is a fascinating place. In so many ways it's like America; but at the same time, it's different. There's a lot of history here. One of the articles I sent tells you about it. The people are friendly but different from Americans; I would say more standoffish. Several other U. S. correspondents are here, so I have American companionship—sometimes more than I'd like.
“I plan on visiting some neighboring countries. They're close, usually less than a day's travel. It's not so difficult getting around here. Trains take you most anywhere you want to go.”
Laurel had never thought much about traveling overseas, but now she wondered what it would be like to see the world. For a moment she imagined herself alongside Adam, touring Paris, Marseilles, and Amsterdam.
“I've been reading Adolf Hitler's book, Mein Kampf. I shudder as I read. He's a madman. He considers people of any race other than blue-eyed and fair-skinned to be inferior, especially Jews. He intends to take over the world. He's already set up censorship over radio, films, and books in Germany. Jews have lost all rights as citizens, and any churches that preach against Nazi ideals are persecuted and their ministers imprisoned.
“There's talk of war. With Hitler as Fuhrer and Germany's buildup of arms, it seems only a matter of time. I don't believe the countries of Europe can stand against his forces. The United States will have to step in.
“Alaska and your magnificent valley look so good from here. I miss it—the peace and beauty. I look forward to visiting next summer. I wish it weren't so far from here to there, but this has been a good move for my career. Nothing holds me back now. I'm on my way.”
Laurel let the letter rest in her lap. She wished he hadn't written. She didn't want to know about a possible war or that Adam's life was taking place on the other side of the world or that he planned to stay. Clearly, Adam's plans didn't include her.
She let the letter drop to the bed and crossed to the mirror. Picking up a brush, she pulled it through her thick auburn hair. “I'm acting like a schoolgirl,” she told herself. “Adam never told me he cared for me.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Would you like some soup and hot bread?” Jean called from the other side.
“Come in, Mama.”
Jean opened the door and walked in.
“I'm not very hungry,” Laurel said, setting the brush on the bureau.
“Is everything all right? Has something happened to Adam?”
“He's fine. He's in Europe.” Laurel felt tears threatening and sat on the bed.
Jean sat beside her. “I know you miss him. I can understand. He's a good man.”
Laurel rested her cheek against her mother's shoulder. “He's so far away,” she whispered, sorrow spreading through her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
WILL OPENED THE BACK DOOR. A PIE IN ONE HAND, HE HELD THE DOOR FOR Jessie with the other as she stepped onto the back porch. Snow and cold blew inside.
“Brrr,” Jessie said, brushing snow from her coat.
Will followed her. “If this keeps up, we'll be weathered in. It's a cold one.”
“Jessie,” Laurel said, meeting her friend and giving her a hug. “I'm so glad you're here.”
Jessie unbuttoned her coat. “I was beginning to think we'd never make it.” She took off the heavy coat. “Is this where you want it?” she asked, holding up the coat toward the hooks on the wall.
“Yep.”
Resting an arm around Laurel's waist, Jessie walked into the kitchen. “My, it smells good in here.”
