“I’m glad I met you,” Valerie said. “It’s good to have someone to talk to.”
“I’m glad I met you too,” Angie replied. “And don’t worry. Everything will work out. Maud and Blaine are the best, and I’ll be here for you. Call me anytime if you want to talk.”
Gazing toward the dark windows that overlooked the water, Valerie recognized, for the first time, the intense fear that had caused her to hate Drew in the moments when her mood had swung in that direction. It wasn’t just about their breakup. It wasn’t her bruised ego or her senseof betrayal. It was something else, something more than heartsickness over a brief summer romance.
What if I tell him about the baby and he still doesn’t want me? I’ll be rejected again. Abandoned.
Perhaps that was the heart of it. Perhaps that was why she’d agreed to come to Alaska when her father had suggested it. She’d packed her bags and taken off without a fight because her fear was a monster inside of her, and it stretched all the way back to her mother, who had died and left little Valerie alone in the world with a father who was incapable of love.
Valerie’s cheeks grew hot. “I think I’m afraid to admit that I still love him because he hurt me, and I don’t want to be hurt like that again. It’s easier to tell myself that I hate him.”
Angie regarded her with sympathy. “But maybe he loves you too, and he hasn’t been able to reach you either.”
Valerie laid her hand on her flat belly and imagined what it might look like in six months’ time. “Maybe I’ll write a letter to Drew and send it to his parents’ house,” she said tentatively. “I don’t have their address, but I know their names and the town they live in, so if I send it to general delivery, it might reach them, and they could pass it on. A letter might be better anyway. I’ll be able to get all my thoughts down properly. I’ll tell him the truth about where I am and what’s happening, and I’ll leave it up to him to decide what he wants. Whatever it is, I’ll accept it. Maybe that’s all I need. A sense of closure.”
Angie stood up to finish sweeping. “I can mail it for you. I’ll take it straight to the post office.”
“Would you? That would be helpful. Thank you.”
“And if he wants to be with you,” Angie added, “you might want to start saving your tip money now to pay for your flight home, because I doubt your father would buy you a ticket.”
“Definitely not,” Valerie replied.
Feeling apprehensive, she stood and busied herself with preparations for breakfast in the dining room the next morning.
Later, after Angie shut off the lights and went home, Valerie returned to her room to think about that letter. She stayed up until three in the morning, getting all her thoughts down on paper and recopying it multiple times to make changes.
The next night, Valerie handed the sealed envelope to Angie, and for the first time since the end of the summer, she allowed herself to nurture a quiet, cautious hope.
CHAPTER 11
Valdez
1963
With Valerie’s letter tucked into her coat pocket, Angie drove through the darkness, back to town. One of her headlights was on the fritz, so she clutched the steering wheel with both hands and squinted to stay focused. She would need to tell Joe about that broken light as soon as she got home. He would take care of it, because he pulled people over for safety infractions like that every day. It wouldn’t do for his wife to be driving around town with a defective headlight.
But that wasn’t the only reason she was clutching the steering wheel. Feeling unsafe in a moving vehicle reminded Angie of the misery that had descended upon her life after the death of her sister in a car accident. It had wrecked her sense of security forever, and she’d had severe bouts of anxiety ever since, knowing that life could be lost in an instant. It could happen to anyone—or to someone else whom she loved. Someone like Joe or her parents, who had moved back to Arizona, and now her baby.
Angie touched her foot to the brake pedal as she rounded a curve, while the weak beam of her single headlight shone on the road. Oh, the stress of these dark curves ...
When her sister had died, Angie had done her best to console her parents, but nothing could take away their pain. Angie was not a mother yet, but being pregnant, she now possessed a deeper understanding of her parents’ grief. All along, she’d thought their emotional withdrawal and their move back to Arizona was because they loved Shana more, but maybe that wasn’t the case. Maybe there was no cure for the loss of a child. No possible solace, not even the existence of the remaining child.
At least Angie’s pregnancy had brought new happiness into their lives. Her father had started woodworking again. He was building a cradle, which he planned to ship to Alaska soon. And Angie was finding comfort in her new friend, Valerie. Their conversations reminded her of treasured moments with Shana, who had always been open about her romances and heartbreaks.
It had been a long time since Angie had had a friend she could confide in. It had been almost seven years since Shana’s car went off the road. Angie was more than ready for a close friendship. In fact, she wanted it quite desperately.
Angie walked through her front door and found Joe asleep on the sofa. Dirty dishes were piled next to the sink, and a record was skipping on the turntable.
“You’re late,” Joe said groggily. He sat up while Angie moved to switch off the record player. “Where were you?”
“At work,” she replied with a ripple of disappointment when she noticed four empty beer bottles on the coffee table.
He grumbled as he stood. “The dining room closes at nine, but it’s past ten. Why are you so late?”
Angie explained quickly. “I stayed to talk to Valerie, the new girl. She’s in a bit of a pickle.”
That little nugget of information seemed to rouse Joe. He walked to the kitchen table, pulled a cigarette out of the half-empty package, and struck a match to light it. “What’s going on with her?”
