Out of the Ashes Read online

  Katherine needed him. How could he just let her slip away into the same darkness that threatened to eat him alive? If anyone knew the grip of despair—it was Jean-Michel.

  He opened his desk drawer and put the envelope inside. It felt as if he were losing her all over again, and the tightness in his throat threatened to cut off his air. He slammed the desk drawer closed and turned the key to lock it.

  He wouldn’t be going to Alaska.

  4

  APRIL 12—THE CURRY HOTEL

  Cassidy Faith Ivanoff Brennan jumped out of bed and looked at the clock. Why on earth would Allan allow her to sleep in? They had far too much to do in the kitchen today to prepare for the banquet tonight. Her husband was no doubt being sweet—after all, she and Mrs. Johnson had stayed late in the kitchen the last two nights working on the perfect menu—but heavens, she was already a half hour behind schedule.

  Running around the room to gather her clothes for the day, she mentally made a list of what she could do to catch up. Opening the curtains, she squinted at the brilliant sunlight. The days were getting longer. Almost all the snow was melted and green popped up everywhere.

  The wild flowers would soon begin to dot their river valley.

  Goodness. Dallying at the window wouldn’t get her list accomplished. She needed to focus and not get distracted.

  Washed up and dressed in record time, Cassidy locked their room and headed to the main kitchen of the Curry Hotel at a brisk pace. Her braid hit her shoulder blades like a pendulum.

  “Fiddlesticks.” The huff left her lips as she reached back to wrap the braid into a bun and headed back to her room. Now she’d have to grab a few pins. Why was she forgetting so many little details lately? Getting distracted. Daydreaming. What was going on?

  Probably all those things attested to fatigue. She’d been so tired of late. But they’d been busy and there hadn’t been time for any breaks.

  Still, she needed to work on being more organized and not letting her foggy brain forget things. Maybe it was time to transfer the lists from her mind to paper.

  After pinning up her hair, she took some paper and a pencil from the little desk in the corner of their room. She could write a list on the way to the kitchen. Locking the door for a second time, she decided she would just have to scold her husband-of-almost-two-years for not waking her sooner. With a kiss, of course. She shook her head and smiled. But still, it was entirely his fault that she was in this mess. If he hadn’t allowed her to sleep in, she wouldn’t be so frazzled.

  The Curry—as everyone called it—was situated midway between Seward and Fairbanks on the Alaska Railroad line. It served as the depot for the train as well as the stopover point for crews and passengers. Built in 1923, it was a thing of beauty. Elegant, lavish, and full of modern-day amenities that most of Alaska didn’t even have—the Curry was magnificent.

  A small community had sprung up around the hotel, but Cassidy’s favorite spot was across the suspension bridge over the Susitna River, up the ridge, and in full view of the tallest mountain in North America . . . Denali—or Mt. McKinley as the people in the lower forty-eight were determined to name it.

  She longed to head up the ridge today—to see the always snow-covered Alaska Range, bask in the beauty and glory of God’s creation, and see if Denali allowed himself to be seen in his entirety. But there wouldn’t be time. Maybe soon.

  The scent of bacon and sugary-sweet cinnamon rolls greeted her as she scribbled a few last notes on the paper. As she rounded the corner, the din of the kitchen welcomed her as well.

  This was home.

  She loved it.

  For three years, she’d worked at the Curry Hotel as the Chef’s Assistant. Although, Mrs. Johnson preferred the title cook rather than chef. It was backbreaking work at times, but Cassidy loved every minute and was so grateful for all that she had learned.

  And it didn’t hurt that she had met the love of her life here.

  God certainly had blessed her with Allan. He’d blessed her father too—not only with a son-in-law John Ivanoff adored, but with another expert guide. Even now with Thomas’s help, the men were hard-pressed to keep up with the schedule of explorations, nature walks, hikes, and fishing trips that guests wanted to take.

  “Cassidy Faith!” Mrs. Johnson’s harsh voice echoed across the kitchen, “I’m so glad you could join us this morning.” In the past, the woman’s tone would have made Cassidy cringe. But one look at the older woman’s face, and Cassidy knew she was being teased. The tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of Cook’s mouth.

  “Thank you for having me, ma’am,” Cassidy bantered back as she curtsied—ridiculous she knew, but at least it made a few of the girls giggle. While the rest of the kitchen staff still cowered under the barked orders of their commander, she shared a special relationship with the woman, and it brought her great joy. Thankfully, the staff was used to listening to the two women in charge banter, tease—and yes, sometimes even argue—back and forth, and it kept the machine that was the Curry Hotel kitchen oiled and running smoothly.

  Cassidy moved to Mrs. Johnson’s side and lowered her voice. “I am sorry. Apparently, Allan thought I needed the extra rest. I’ve no doubt been complaining about how tired I’ve been.”

  “I understand, but we’ve no extra time today. Pretend to be properly scolded and get to work.” The gruff tone didn’t fool Cassidy.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She saluted and walked to her station in the center of the kitchen.

  The morning passed in a blur of prep for the banquet that would feed two hundred visitors that evening. The yeasty scent of Mrs. Johnson’s famous Parker House dinner rolls rose up as Cassidy kneaded the dough. She wiped sweat from her forehead with a work towel and swayed for a moment. Goodness, what was going on?

  The room began to tilt and she grabbed the edge of the worktable.

  “Cassidy?” Mrs. Johnson’s voice was somewhere in the distance.

  Tiny pinpricks of light dotted her sight and then a black frame around her vision closed in. “Ummmmmmm . . .”

  “She’s awfully pale,” a voice said from somewhere around the room.

  Everything spun and swirled.

  “Quick!” Mrs. Johnson’s commanding voice again. “Someone catch her!”

  Cassidy felt strong arms around her and then nothing.

  Someone patted her hand.

  Then came a kiss on her forehead.

  “Cassidy.” Allan’s husky voice.

  She was in her bed. The familiar comfort and scents surrounded her.

  “She’s beginning to come around.” The voice accompanied a hand wrapped around her wrist. Ah, the new doctor. She recognized his tone. What was his name? “Yes, look, her eyes are fluttering.”

  “Come on, Cass.” Allan’s pleading voice washed over her. “Let me see those beautiful brown eyes.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, she worked to lift her eyelids and saw her husband’s handsome face smiling at her as he sat on their bed next to her. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He chuckled. “You scared me, honey. Please don’t do that again.”

  She smiled back at him, then furrowed her brow. “What happened?”

  “You fainted dead away in the kitchen.” Mrs. Johnson came to her other side, pushing the good doctor out of the way. “Excuse me.” She didn’t even look at him.

  The poor man would get used to Cook’s no-nonsense ways at some point—he was still new here. But his facial expression was priceless. A bit of shock mixed with “who’s in charge here?” mixed with embarrassment to be brushed aside. It made Cassidy smile at the man.

  “Are you listening to me?” Mrs. Johnson touched her cheek as gently as her words were in contrast demanding. “Cassidy?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Johnson, I’m listening.” She nodded.

  Allan squeezed her hand.

  “You fainted! Clean away!” The woman looked so worried that Cassidy couldn’t deny the woman a rant. “If I hadn’t moved faster than these old bones sh
ould ever move, you would have hit the floor. Hard!”

  It all came back and made Cassidy frown. She peered around Mrs. Johnson to Dr. Reilly. Yes! That was it. His name was Reilly. “Is something wrong with me?”

  The man moved forward a smidge and looked to Mrs. Johnson.

  The older woman had the grace to step aside a bit, even if only a few inches. She was very territorial.

  Dr. Reilly cleared his throat. “From what Mrs. Johnson and your husband tell me, I know you’ve been working too hard. Your husband further attested that you have been quite tired. Have you been eating?”

  Cassidy lifted a palm to her forehead. “I forgot to eat this morning. That must be it.”

  The doctor chuckled. “That’s not all of it, but yes, that contributed.”

  Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “I wish we had an older doctor.” The words weren’t quite as hushed as they should have been. But Cook was never one for hushing her thoughts.

  The young doctor straightened. “I assure you, Mrs. Johnson, I’m quite capable. I might be only twenty-seven, but I’ve already been practicing privately for four years and was a medic and surgeon during the war before that.”

  The older woman gave a huff and gazed toward the ceiling.

  Cassidy might have laughed out loud if not for her concern about what was wrong. “What were you saying, Doctor? Not eating contributed to what?” Cassidy’s brow wrinkled into worry lines.

  He straightened his shoulders and tilted his head just a bit. “Well, I was hoping to tell you privately”—he glanced at Mrs. Johnson—“but . . .”

  “You can speak freely, sir. Mrs. Johnson is like a mother to me.” Cassidy smiled at Cook’s face.

  The head chef’s eyes blinked in rapid succession. Were those tears?

  The blond-haired doctor coughed into his hand. “Well, then, I know I’m new and a stranger to you all, but we will get to know each other pretty well over the next few months.”

  Allan stiffened, his jaw tight and brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  The man held up his hands as in surrender. “Nothing bad, Mr. Brennan, I assure you. In fact, I would like to congratulate you both. You see, Mrs. Brennan is expecting.”

  A gasp behind the doctor. “A baby?” Mrs. Johnson whispered.

  “Yes.” The young doctor chuckled. “In fact, I’m surprised you all didn’t know. You’re at least four months along . . . perhaps more. Have you not had any morning sickness? Or your regular monthly . . . ?” His voice dropped off with the delicate question.

  “No, I didn’t think about it. I wasn’t sick at all, but we’ve been so very busy.” Cassidy did mental calculations in her head. “So the baby will be born in September?”

  “That would be my guess.” Dr. Reilly’s serious expression didn’t help him look any older. “Probably late in the month.”

  Mrs. Johnson began assaulting the doctor with questions, but Cassidy didn’t hear any of it. She locked gazes with Allan. A baby. They’d talked and dreamed of this day, and it was finally here.

  His eyes conveyed more love to her than she’d ever seen as he leaned close and touched his forehead to hers. “Congratulations, Mrs. Brennan.” His words were barely a whisper. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She tilted her chin up so she could kiss him.

  “Great day in the morning! We’re having a baby!” Allan stood up, shook the doctor’s hand, ran to the door, and opened it.

  In a loud voice she’d only heard him use for getting crowds to quiet down, her husband announced their news to the world. “Everyone, we’re having a baby!”

  APRIL 15—NEW YORK

  Katherine stared into the mirror while the dressmaker walked around her.

  “It’s lovely, non?” The woman’s French accent made Katherine’s stomach hurt—a sad reminder of a past she needed to forget.

  “You did a lovely job, Jacqueline. Truly.” She forced some enthusiasm into her voice. “I apologize for my silence.”

  Jacqueline tsked. “I know you must miss your husband. It is all right. I understand.” She sat on the floor and flipped the hem.

  The mention of Randall made Katherine want to scream, but she held her tongue. The only emotion she could feel anymore was anger and outrage—and only when it came to Randall. The man had hurt her more than words could ever describe. To the world, she was a grieving widow. But inside, she was just numb. Unfeeling about anything else. And he had caused it.

  “You are so very beautiful, Madam Demarchis. The pink of this gown brings out the beautiful color of your eyes.”

  “They’re just brown.” Like cow dung, Randall had pointed out on more than one occasion when his temper flared.

  “Oh, non, they are more than brown, madam. They are like caramel.” The dressmaker placed a few pins. “Like velvet. And with the honey color of your hair, it is very appealing. Especially with pink.”

  Katherine felt a little lift to her spirit. The compliment seemed genuine enough, and it had been so long since she’d even allowed herself to wear anything other than black.

  Black for her supposed mourning of her husband.

  But in truth, black for the ache in her own soul.

  “You like, oui?” Jacqueline smiled up at her from her position on the floor as Katherine stared blankly into the mirror.

  Fact was, she did like the dress. And the color was beautiful and cheery and the length quite modest. She touched the gathered waistline. “Yes, I like it very much.”

  “Bien. Good, good.” Jacqueline hopped to her feet and looped her measuring tape around her neck like a scarf. “I will put the finishing touches on the rest of the garments this evening and have them to you by the morning.”

  “Thank you.” Katherine smiled. It had been a long time since she’d spoken any French, but she decided to make the effort for this sweet lady. “Merci beaucoup, Jacqueline.”

  Grandmother tapped her cane on the open door. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” Katherine turned to greet her. “Jacqueline just finished up.”

  Her grandmother’s eyes sparkled as she leaned back and looked up and down at Katherine’s dress. “It suits you.” She smiled. “You look beautiful, my dear.”

  “Thank you, Grandmother.”

  The older woman took a seat while the dressmaker helped Katherine out of the dress. “I believe we should depart in two days’ time.”

  “So soon?” Katherine pulled on her dressing gown.

  “I will be back tomorrow,” Jacqueline interjected as she filled her arms with the various outfits she’d brought to fit.

  “See that it’s all complete and ready to pack.” Grandmother’s tone was kind. “And I will give you a generous bonus.”

  “Oh, merci, merci!” Jacqueline hurried from the room, calling over her shoulder. “It will be so.”

  Katherine finished buttoning her robe and tied the sash. Taking a seat in the rose-and-sage-chintz-covered chair opposite her grandmother, she sighed. “Why so soon, Grandmother?”

  “I’d like us to travel and see the country. What do you think? I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. Yellowstone and Yosemite. Those giant trees . . .” She tapped her chin.

  “The redwoods?”

  “Yes, dear. Those. And, of course, the Rocky Mountains.” The cane swayed as she talked. “You know, I’ve been to Denver many times, but I don’t believe that you have. There is nothing quite so grand as those mountains. I know they say we have mountains around here, but once you’ve seen the Rocky Mountains, well . . . those become hills.”

  “You’ve said that several times, yes.” Katherine squinted.

  “Oh, and Pikes Peak. Of course, we need to go there.” Grandmother rang the bell for tea but wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Maybe we should visit the Alamo too. I’ve always wanted to see more of Texas.”

  Katherine crossed her arms over her chest. “What exactly are you up to, Grandmother?”

  The woman had the decency to blink severa
l times. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You said we were going to Alaska.”

  “We are.” Her face was all innocence, but her granddaughter knew better.

  “So why is it that we need to travel the country?”

  “We have to travel across the entire country to catch our ship for Alaska, so we might as well enjoy ourselves and take our time. See a few places. Eat wonderful food. That sort of thing.” Maria Harrison was good. Too good. And Katherine knew the woman was up to something.

  “Grandmother?” She worked to keep her tone calm and respectful. “I know you. If we’re spending the entire summer in Alaska, shouldn’t we save the adventure of seeing the rest of the country for another trip?”

  “No.” Grandmother straightened her shoulders. “Sometimes, you have to take the bull by the horns. Smell . . . the roses.”

  Katherine’s lips curled upward ever so slightly. “Which is better than smelling the bull, I suppose.”

  The old woman pointed her cane. “See, already it has brought a smile to your face. Just remember, my dear, I don’t need to explain myself to you. We’re going on a trip. A marvelous trip. A long trip. We will spend our summer in Alaska, where I hope to catch a fish, see Mt. McKinley . . . and a reindeer—”

  “And along with the reindeer, a sleigh . . . and possibly jolly old Saint Nick too?”

  “Oh, you! I said no such thing. Everyone knows there’s a plethora of reindeer in Alaska.” Flustered was too tame a word for Maria Harrison at that moment.

  “Really? I don’t remember learning that in school.” Katherine arched a brow. She could play the game. “I’m not trying to be disrespectful, but you should just admit that you have something up your sleeve.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. But I will leave you to work on your packing.” The graceful and ladylike demeanor concealed any hint of discomfort. She rose, using her cane in an overly dramatic way. “You can humor this old lady and accept my wishes. After all, they might well be my last.”

  “Ha! You will outlive all of us.” Katherine felt almost like laughing. Almost.