LITMIR.BIZ

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her heart ached for the confused girl. Giselle’s world had been rocked, first by her mom’s death and then by learning nothing she’d believed about her family was true. Moving away from all that was familiar couldn’t be easy, either.

      “Jack hasn’t been your dad for all these years?” she asked gently.

      “Yes.” Giselle whooshed out a breath that blew her bangs all over. “He has. He’s been a really good father and I love him a lot. That’s why this is so hard. He lied to me.”

      “I didn’t lie, Giselle.” Jack stood in the aisle. His face conveyed his hurt.

      “Lied by omission then.” She jumped up and held out a hand. “Can I have some money to buy breakfast?”

      “I guess I’m your father enough for that, huh?” Jack muttered with a sideways glance at his daughter. She simply shrugged. He transferred the two cups he carried into one hand then fished several bills out of his shirt pocket and handed them over. Giselle flounced away. “Nothing for me, thanks,” he muttered, staring longingly at her departing figure.

      “Preteen. It’s a horrible age,” Alicia consoled. “She’ll get over it.”

      “Soon, I hope.” He held out a lidded cup. “Coffee. I figured you could use some. You look great, but it wasn’t the most restful night I’ve ever had.”

      “Thank you.” She accepted the cup, freezing for a moment when his warm fingers brushed hers. “Maybe I’m used to these chairs because I’ve ridden the train so often.”

      “To get your store stock?”

      “Uh-huh. The sleeper cars are always booked far in advance. Since I’m never sure when I’ll be on the train, I always sleep in the chairs,” she explained. “I don’t mind traveling at this time of year. The landscape is amazing. Seeing spring arrive from the train is far more interesting than watching snow drift in winter.” She sipped her coffee, enjoying the rich dark flavor. “Thank you for this.”

      “Sure. My sister told me about a project you’re planning for her Lives boys. That’s what locals call her rehabilitation center, right?”

      “Yes.” Alicia nodded. “It’s a shortened version of Lives Under Construction, which we use to refer to the army barracks she’s renovated, the outbuildings and all the land around.”

      “I thought so.” Jack sat down, stretching his legs in front. “So—a sod house, right? Laurel asked me to help.”

      “She did?” Alicia stared at him. “I didn’t know that.” She shook her head, uneasy at the prospect of having Jack nearby, watching her. “You don’t have to bother. We’ll manage. The boys are very responsible.”

      “I’m sure they are. But I promised and I don’t break my promises to Laurel, ever. She’s the older sister and she makes me pay,” he teased. Then a frown flickered across his face. “It sounds like you don’t want my help.”

      “It’s not that.” She bit her bottom lip, struggling to rephrase the truth.

      “Don’t worry, Alicia. I know how to take directions.” He chuckled when she couldn’t mask her dubious expression. “I’ll help, but the hotel will have to come first.” He tipped his head to one side, studying her. “How did you come up with the sod house idea anyway?”

      “From a display I saw.” She leaned her back against the window to put as much distance between them as possible. She would have moved across the aisle if Giselle hadn’t left her things scattered over both seats.

      Oddly enough, Jack’s nearness didn’t make Alicia feel unsafe and it wasn’t just that he was a cop and also Laurel’s brother. Jack was still grieving for his wife. She couldn’t imagine he was the type to try to take advantage of her here on a public train. But mostly she wasn’t worried because he’d emphasized that he intended to remain single.

      Still, his nearness caused a nervousness deep inside her that Alicia didn’t understand.

      “What kind of a display?” Jack asked.

      “It was held inside a caribou tent and it was amazing.” She tried to explain but cut it short when his eyes began to glaze. “Anyway, the presenters were descendants of an original settlement family. Their elder told stories about how their ancestors built sod houses to live in. I thought it would be fun to build one as a summer project for the boys. Kyle Loness—he’s the activities director at Lives—and Rick Salinger, our minister, have both promised to help.”

      “Sounds interesting. Do you have a book about it, or plans?” Jack asked.

      “No,” Alicia answered, slewing her eyes to the window, though there was nothing unusual in the muskeg pushing up to reveal the permafrost beneath. “All I have is a rough sketch an elder drew for me.”

      “Well, I guess you could get the library to order some books.” Jack savored his coffee, his face thoughtful. “You can’t just go out and start digging. You’ll need some kind of plan.”

      Alicia gulped, because that was exactly what she’d intended to do—start digging as soon as the town allocated the land. Now she realized how silly that was. Of course they would need a plan. Houses were built in stages.

      Rattled by the thought of being asked to consult a book, she knew she’d have to be careful or else Jack and the rest of Churchill would discover she couldn’t read very well. Her mother had tried to teach her when their remote village lost its teacher, but her English hadn’t been great. When she’d been moved to Vancouver, Alicia had struggled and failed to catch up.

      “Since you’ll be helping us, perhaps you wouldn’t mind contacting the library,” she said, crossing her fingers that he’d accept.

      “I guess I could.” His forehead furrowed, he plied her with questions.

      Alicia answered as best she could but his proximity unnerved her. She was grateful when Giselle finally returned.

      “I hope you don’t mind if I ask this.” The girl stood in the aisle, leaning against the seat in front. “You’re an Indian, aren’t you?”

      Jack choked on his coffee then glared at Giselle, clearly aggravated by her impudence.

      “Native Canadian Indian, yes.” Alicia held her gaze as she said the words proudly, refusing to back down. “Why?”

      “One of my teachers said you often have names that have special meanings.”

      “You’re asking if Alicia is a traditional Native name?” she said.

      “Yes, like Piapot.” Giselle frowned. “Do you know what that name means?”

      “One who knows the secrets of the Sioux.” She hid her smile as Giselle’s eyes brightened. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. I’m afraid I’m just plain Alicia Featherstone.”

      “Well, at least you have Featherstone, though I don’t know what meaning that could have. Feathers and stones are complete opposites,” Giselle complained.

      “Sorry.” Alicia hid her smile. “If you’re interested in learning about Chief Piapot, every Thursday night I lead a campfire at Lives. I tell the boys stories of Native history. You’re welcome to join us.”

      “Thanks.” Giselle’s smile lit up her face. She returned to her seat across the aisle. Moments later she was busy on her pink cell phone.

      “I’m sorry,” Jack apologized. “Sometimes I have no clue what will come out of her mouth. I’m not sure she does, either.”

      Alicia burst out laughing. “Forget it. That in-your-face attitude is what makes kids so refreshing.”

      “I’ll try to remember that,” he said drily. “Hey, we’re slowing down.”

      “Yes. We’ll arrive in Churchill soon.” She smiled. “Did I ever thank you for rescuing

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