The Suspect Groom

“A friend told us about this place. He lives in Juneau.”

“A very dear friend of Phyllis’s,” Bradley said. “A former lover, in fact. You see, I can say that kind of thing because I’m not at all jealous. I’m secure in our relationship of mutual respect and—”

“Nobody wants to hear it,” Phyllis interrupted. “Come on, I’ll race you back to the barn. And don’t worry, David, we’ll put the saddles away and curry the horses.”

She took off in a graceful canter, riding as if she were part of the horse, and Bradley followed. He was far less competent in his riding and his camera banged against his chest.

As Trina watched them ride away, she couldn’t help but comment, “There go a couple of new-age neurotics.”

“Radical envirionmentalists,” he said. “We call them greenies.”

“Now, David. Their goals are for the good.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all in favor of conservation and nonpollution and saving the rain forests, but if those greenies had their way, we’d all be wearing loincloths and eating berries. Meat is what people live on up here. It’s always been that way. The natural way.” He nudged his heels against his mare. “We should be getting back.”

“I guess so.” The ride hadn’t brought Trina any closer to making her decision. All she knew was that she didn’t want to leave this place. She intended to make every effort to understand Ivan, to find the sensitive man who had written those letters within the gruff old bear.

* * *

STILL EXHILIARATED from her ride, Trina peeled off her parka, hat and mittens and left them in the mudroom behind the kitchen. Though it was only eleven o’clock and Maybelle had said that the guests wouldn’t arrive until noon, there were several voices coming from the kitchen.

Feeling like an outsider, Trina could hear them laughing, talking, sharing gossip. She caught a couple of phrases about the dead man who had been found on Ivan’s property, then Maybelle’s voice drowned out the others. “None of that. I won’t have my potlatch ruined by a murder.”

“But it’s so exciting” came a high-pitched rejoinder. “They say he was shot in the back. In cold blood.”

“And I say, no more.” Maybelle was firm. “Now, who brought these pickled mushrooms?”

Trina slipped through the kitchen as unobtrusively as possible and went down the hall to Ivan’s office. She raised her hand to knock, though the study door was slightly ajar. Hearing an angry voice from within, she hesitated.

“What kind of a sheriff are you, Reuben?” That was Ivan. “The kids who found the dead man were on my land, and I call that trespassing. If you won’t prosecute, I’ll take the law into my own hands and sue their parents.”

“Take the law into your hands?” She could hear Sheriff Rueben Kittridge sputtering. “Listen here, Ivan. We’re not talking about the kids. We’re talking about the dead man. We haven’t even identified this guy.”

“I don’t know him.” In contrast with Reuben, Ivan sounded smooth and in control.

“How do you know? Dammit, Ivan, are you going to let me see your guest book for people who are booked at the lodge?”

“No, sir, I am not. None of your business.”

“Were you expecting anybody?”

“Maybe I was, and maybe I wasn’t.”

“We’re not playing games, Ivan. This is murder.”

“Are you accusing me of doing it? Just because the guy got himself killed on my property? Probably a damn poacher.” Ivan’s voice lowered dangerously. “Like you, Reuben.”

“What are you saying?”

Trina knocked. She didn’t want to hear any more of these angry accusations.

“What?” Ivan shouted.

Trying not to appear timid, she peeked inside. Without her glasses, she couldn’t discern the details of their expressions, but both men appeared dark and glowering.

Reuben nodded. “Good morning, ma’am.” Beneath his bushy eyebrows and mustache, his face was bright scarlet. Even the whites of his eyes were bloodshot. “I was just leaving.”

“Thanks, Reuben, don’t go far.” Ivan rose from behind his desk and watched the sheriff lumber out the door. Then he looked at her. His expression was arch and slightly disapproving. “You’re not dressed to be married, Trina.”

“I’m not sure that a wedding is in order.” She studied his face, trying to discern his response, but it was like trying to read a wall of ice. “It might be best if we wait, you know, to find out if we’re compatible.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” He came toward her and held out his hand, waiting until she reached out. Then he captured her hand and held it. “You’ve deceived me.”

The flick of her eyes betrayed her guilt. He must be talking about David, about her uncontrollable attraction to him. How did Ivan know? Had he seen them riding? Was her attraction so obvious? Ashamed, she looked down at her boots. “I’m sorry, Ivan. I’ve been so unfair to you.”

“You’re not twenty-five,” he said.

Startled, she looked up. He was talking about her age! That was nothing compared to her inappropriate feelings for David. Quickly, she said, “I meant to tell you, but then you started writing to me, and I—”

“My heart was in those letters, Trina. My heart and soul. And, all that time, you were lying. I’m hurt.”

“Oh, come on, Ivan. We’re not living in the eighteen hundreds. I’m healthy and strong enough to bear children, if that’s what you’re worried about. Is it really so important that I be in my twenties?”

“It’s the lying,” he said, releasing her hand. “And now, this refusal to go through with the wedding. Still, I can forgive you. I still want you to be my bride. But can I trust you?”

“Give me a chance. We’ll get to know each other.” What was she saying? How had the conversation turned in this direction? “But, Ivan, I need some time to think about this.”

“No, Trina. It would be too humiliating to postpone the wedding. Today, my friends and family have gathered to meet my new bride. It must be today. Or never.”

“But I don’t know...”

“I meant every word I wrote to you in those letters. Every syllable. When you are my bride, you will be taken care of. Well taken care of, financially.”

“And emotionally?”

“Of course. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

His voice was as smooth as velvet. His eyes shone with the sincerity she’d come to respect in his letters. How could she say no?

“Please,” he said. “If it doesn’t work out, you can have the marriage annulled. And I guarantee I’ll be fair with you.”

Her emotions forbade her agreement. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t marry one man when she was attracted to another. She shook her head.

Before she could speak, he said, “Don’t answer too quickly. This will work out between us, Trina. I promise.” His voice was gentle and as seductive as his letters. “I promise your long nights in Alaska will never be lonely.”

She remembered his letters, the sensations she had when she read them. The feelings came from deep in her heart. The man who had written those letters was a man she could love.

“All right, Ivan, I will marry you. Today.”