“You'll think I'm silly.”
“Try me.”
“Well, I don't see a light in Laurel's eyes when she looks at Robert.”
Will chuckled. “A light?”
“Don't laugh.”
“I'm sorry.” Will pasted a serious expression on his face. “Tell me.”
“Well, when a woman's in love, she has a light inside her that shows on the outside.”
Will tightened his hold. “Oh, you mean like the way your face lights up every time you set eyes on me?”
“You're awfully full of yourself.” Jean snuggled against him. “Yes, that light. And I'll have it until the day I die.”
“She's a grown woman,” Will said. “She ought to know her own mind. She loves Robert.”
“Yes, she does, but Laurel's not in love with him. I'm not sure she's doing the right thing.”
“Could you pick a better man?”
“A better man? No, but even so, he might not be the right one for her.”
“You think she ought to marry Adam?”
“I didn't say that.”
“Well, he's not here, and from what I've heard, he's not about to move here.” He pulled Jean closer. “I think Adam's a nice young man, but he has a lot of growing up to do. He's so busy seeking self-fulfillment, he doesn't have time to even think about God or what God wants for him.”
Jean continued to watch Robert and Laurel. “He won't find what he's looking for in Europe,” she said sadly.
“I know, and I'm sorry. I like Adam. I even believe Laurel loves him.” Will squeezed Jean more tightly. “I think he belongs here.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I don't know—maybe because something about him settles down when he's here.” Will straightened. “But while Adam finds himself, Laurel can't wait around. She's got her own life to live.”
Laurel gazed at the notes, trying to make sense of them. Sometimes Steward's writing is illegible, she thought in frustration and typed what she thought it said. She glanced at the two boxes she'd finished transcribing. At least I'm making progress. Another half dozen lay on the shelf, needing to be recorded.
The door opened, and Jessie walked in. She had a bouquet of bluebells and blue lupine. “Aren't these lovely? I couldn't resist. They're all over the forest floor.” She walked into the kitchen, ran water into a canning jar, and arranged the flowers in it. Setting the bouquet in the middle of the kitchen table, she stood back and gazed at them. “I love flowers. Always have. From now until winter, I'll have real flowers in the house.” She smoothed back gray hair and tucked a piece behind her ear. “How is the work coming?”
Unable to hide her frustration, Laurel said, “Slow, but my typing is getting better.” She glanced at the boxes still waiting. “How did you and your husband find the time to dig up so much information about Alaska?”
Jessie added wood to the stove and moved the kettle to a front burner. “For many years, it's all we did. It was our life.” She smiled and took a container of tea out of the cupboard. “Would you like some?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
She spooned tea into cheesecloth, tied it off, then set it in the kettle. Hobbling into the living room, she sat in her overstuffed chair.
Laurel let her fingers rest on the typewriter keys. She suddenly felt deflated. Jessie had led an exciting life, one that had made a difference. She'd wanted to do something important with hers. How was being a farmer's wife going to contribute to the world? She looked at Jessie. “What do you think you would've done with your life if you and Steward hadn't come to Alaska?”
“Oh, I don't know. I suppose we'd have settled somewhere along the San Francisco Bay, probably taught history.”
“Do you ever wish you'd done that?”
“Oh no. I've loved my life.” She smiled and her eyes turned into slits. “When I was at the university, I never expected life to be an adventure. Living here wasn't part of my plan. Had I known what waited for me, I'd probably have been too frightened to leave California.” She studied Laurel. “Why do you ask, dear?”
Laurel shuffled and stacked papers. “No reason.”
Jessie waited quietly.
“Well, I've been feeling a little uncertain about my future.”
“In what way?”
Laurel stared at the typewriter. “Did you ever want to be something other than what you are?”
Jessie thought a moment. “For the most part I've been real happy with who I am, but I do wish I'd been a mother.” She smiled softly. “Steward and I wanted children. I think I already told you that. What a gift it would be to bring a new life into the world. To be part of shaping a young person into a special, unique individual.” Her eyes sparkled at the thought, then settled on Laurel. “Why?”
Laurel had never thought of parenting as a gift. It had simply been something a woman did, part of an ordinary life. “Sometimes I feel like I want to do more with my life than just be a wife and mother. I wanted to go to college, become a teacher.”
“Do you think that's what God wants you to do?”
