The Snow Bride

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"Alaska, Jen? This is crazy! You have no idea what you're letting yourself in for." Her mother swerved from one lane of the Los Angeles freeway to the next without bothering to glance in her rearview mirror. A car horn blared angrily from somewhere behind them, but Chloe Lyman was unconcerned; she'd never observed the rules of the road any more than she'd lived a conventional life.

Jenna Campbell swallowed a gasp and clung to her purse. When her mother was in this frame of mind, it was far better to agree with her and let her temper take its natural course. "Yes, Mom." 

"Don't be so damned agreeable, either."

"Whatever you say, Mom."

"Asking me to drive you to the airport is just adding insult to injury."

"I know, I'm sorry, but -- "

"Didn't I tell you to stop agreeing with everything I say?"

"Yes, mom."

"I can't believe any daughter of mine is so . . . so mealy-mouthed. How on earth could you even think about something as ridiculous as becoming a mail-order bride? Haven't I taught you anything?"

"I didn't say I was marrying Dalton -- "

"That's another thing. What kind of name is Dalton, anyway? And Alaska . . . Alaska? Have you lost your mind? This is the kind of thing I'd do, not you!"

"Mom . . . "

Chloe Lyman veered sharply across two lanes of traffic, going twenty miles above the speed limit as she did so, and nearly collided with the concrete wall dividing the freeway. "I don't like it."

"Dalton's name?" Jenna asked, purposely obtuse.

Chloe muttered something probably best left to the imagination, then added in a more audible voice, "I don't like anything about this. You find some man on the Internet and the next thing I know, you're quitting a job any woman would love. You give up a beautiful apartment. You uproot your entire life and take off for Alaska to marry this character you've never even met."

"I'm an executive assistant, which is a glorified way of saying secretary, and I'm only going to Alaska to meet Dalton. I never said anything about marrying him." While that sounded good, Jenna did, in fact, expect to marry Dalton Gray.

Kim Roberts, her best friend, thought this plan of hers was wildly romantic, although she had some qualms. For that matter, so did Jenna. She wasn't stupid or naive, but her desire to escape her mundane, predictable life outweighed her usual caution.

Once Jenna knew Dalton a little better, she sincerely hoped their relationship would evolve into something permanent. However, she wasn't rushing into marriage, despite what Kim and her mother seemed to think.

"You're the executive assistant to the founder and president of Fulton Industries," her mother needlessly reminded her. "Do you realize how many women would give their eyeteeth to work for a man as rich and handsome as Brad Fulton?"

Jenna didn't want to discuss that. Yes, she had a good job and the pay was fabulous, but as far as she was concerned, it was a dead end. She'd fallen in love with Brad Fulton, but in the six years she'd been working with him, he'd never noticed her except as his assistant. Competent, capable Ms. Campbell. Besides, she had no life. Correction, no dating life. At thirty-one she was unmarried and there wasn't a possibility in sight. Meeting a man on the Internet wasn't so unusual these days and it was perfect for someone like her. Jenna was shy, but when she sat in front of a computer screen, she found the confidence to assert her real personality. Dalton thought she was witty and he made her feel good about herself. Yes, this might be risky; however, Jenna didn't care. She was about to have the first real adventure of her life, and adventure was what she craved. Nothing was going to stop her now. Not her mother. Not Kim. No one!

"Say something," Chloe challenged.

"What would you like me to tell you, Mom? That I don't know what I'm doing and that in a few weeks I'll be flying home with a broken heart?" If that was the case, then so be it. At least she would've experienced life and had an escapade or two, which was all she wanted. Jenna had witnessed her mother's approach to marriage, and that certainly hadn't worked. So she was doing it her own way. Dalton might very well be her only chance. Another year at Fulton Industries and every feminine instinct would, shrivel up and die. Brad Fulton's primary interest was his company. Jenna was convinced she could parade around the office naked and it would take him a week to notice.

"You know what they say about the men in Alaska," her mother muttered.

"Yes, Mom, I've heard all the jokes. Alaska -- where the odds are good but the goods are odd.

Her mother chuckled. "I hope you pay close attention to that one."

"Alaska," Jenna said, her voice sarcastic, "where the men are men and so are the women."

Her mother giggled again.

"Dalton told me those, Mom. He wants me to be prepared."

"Did he happen to mention what the winters are like in Fairbanks? It's November, Jenna, and they have storms there, blizzards that last for days. You could freeze to death walking from the plane into the terminal. When I think of what could happen I -- "

"You don't need to worry, Mom. Dalton sent me books and it isn't Fairbanks, it's Beesley. I'm flying into Fairbanks, where Dalton's meeting me."

"Did he pay for your airfare?"

"I wouldn't let him do that I!" Jenna was surprised her mother would ask such a question. She had more sense than that and more pride too. 

"Thank God for small favors."

"I'm not changing my mind, Mom." 

"Jenna, oh, Jenna," her mother cried and slowed to twenty-five-miles an hour, which made even more cars blare their horns, not that her mother was aware of it. "Why couldn't you be like other daughters who cause their mothers grief and heartache from the ages of thirteen to thirty? It makes no sense that a daughter of mine would turn into this model of virtue." Chloe shook her head. "Why did you wait till thirty-one to shock me like this? I'm not used to worrying about you." 

"I know, Mom."

"By your age I'd been married and divorced twice. You were twenty before you went out on your first date."

"I was not," Jenna protested her cheeks heating. "I was eighteen."

"At ten you were more adult than I was." 

"One of us had to be."

Her mother sighed, acknowledging the truth.

Jenna didn't understand Chloe's reaction. "I'd think you'd be pleased that I'm doing something exciting."

"But I'm not," her mother wailed. "Oh, Jenna," she sobbed, "what am I going to do without you?"

"Oh, Mom. . . "

"My divorce from Greg was final last month. You know how I get without a man in my life."

Jenna did know. Husband number five had bit the dust, but considering her mother, it wouldn't be long before she found the next man of her dreams. Dream man number six, no doubt a replica of the previous five, All of whom, Chloe had believed, would rescue her drudgery and hardships of life. Without a man she was lost. She preferred them rich and -- Jenna hesitated to use the word stupid, but frankly her mother had yet to choose a husband with any common sense, let alone advanced brain power. If they did happen to have money, it never lasted for more than a few years.

Her mother frowned, shifting her eyes from the road to look at her daughter. "I can't go to Alaska, Jenna, I just can't. You know I have to be around sunshine. I could never take the cold."

"I know, Mom, but I'm not sure if I'll even be living there."

"You're leaving me she murmured in a hurt little-girl voice. "You're going to marry Doug -- "

"Dalton."

"All right, Dalton, and you're going to love Alaska." She said it with such finality that Jenna might as well be wearing a wedding band. Jenna pictured Dalton eagerly waiting for her at the Fairbanks Airport, with a diamond engagement ring in his pocket and a romantic proposal committed to memory. It wasn't a likely scenario, but Jenna figured she was allowed to dream.

This romantic fantasy had originally been intended for her boss, but if Brad hadn't even asked her out in six years, then it simply wasn't happening. Jenna was furious at herself for all that wasted time.

Her mother bit her lower lip. "Why can't I hold on to a man? I should've known better than to marry again. He's a crook."

"Greg isn't a crook, he's just, uh, creative when it comes to employment opportunities."

Her mother snickered and let the comment pass. "You'll phone the moment you arrive in Fairbanks?" She turned and cast Jenna a pleading glance.

"Of course I will."

"What do you want me to tell Brad Fulton when he calls?"

Jenna stared out the passenger-side window. "Mr. Fulton isn't going to call you, Mom."

Her mother laughed. "Trust me, he'll call. He doesn't realize how valuable you are, otherwise he would never have let you go."

"Ms. Spencer is every bit as good an administrator as I am." In some ways, the middle-aged Gail Spencer was more efficient than Jenna because she wouldn't be tempted to fall in love with her boss.

After a long silence, Chloe murmured, "Just promise me you won't name any of your children after Dalton."

"Mom, you're making too much of this." Nonetheless, Jenna prayed the relationship would fulfill the promise of those countless e-mails. She'd stumbled across Dalton in a poetry chat room and they'd connected immediately. After two months of chatting daily, of quoting Emily Dickinson and discussing the Shakespearian sonnets, Dalton had wooed her with his own sensitive words. Eventually they'd exchanged snapshots. Jenna had studied Dalton's photograph, memorizing every feature. He stood stiffly by a nondescript building and stared into the camera. It was difficult to tell if he was handsome in the conventional sense because he had a full beard, but his deep blue eyes seemed sharp and intelligent. He wore a wool cap, a red plaid shirt and heavy boots; his arms were crossed over his chest as if to say he wasn't accustomed to having his photo taken. She'd sent him her photograph, too, although he'd insisted looks weren't important. Dalton said what was inside a person was all that counted. He possessed a poet's heart, although Jenna had a hard time equating this with the rough-looking figure in the workingman's clothes.

She sent her picture for practical reasons. He needed to be able to identify her when she stepped off the plane. She, too, stood facing the camera in her work uniform -- a gray jacket and straight skirt. She'd worn her hair pulled away from her face, revealing features she'd always considered plain, although Kim called her looks "classic." Her hair was a mousy shade of brown that she detested and usually lightened, but it'd been due for a treatment just then. When Dalton had e-mailed back that his first look at her photo had stolen his breath -- only he'd said it much more poetically -- she knew he was the one.

The exit for L.A. International came into view, and her mother slowed. Irritated drivers honked their horns as the road narrowed to a single lane; cars were backed up all the way to the freeway.

"You have a place to stay?"

"Dalton's arranging that."

"You sincerely like this man?" Her mother's voice softened with the question.

"Yes, Mom, very much."

Her mother gave a shaky smile. "You've always been a good judge of character. But, Jenna, I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'm going to miss you, too," Unlike her own life, her mother's was never dull. Even now, as she entered her midfifties, Chloe "Moon Flower" Campbell Roper Haggard Sullivan Lyman was an attractive, desirable woman who never lacked for attention from the opposite sex.

Her mother followed the directions to the departure area and angled between two buses and a taxicab jockeying for position. From the way she'd parked, anyone might assume she intended to drive directly into the airport.

Leaping out of the car, her mother raced around to the passenger side and hugged Jenna hard before she could even unfasten her seat belt. The death grip around her neck made it impossible to climb out. "Mother," she protested.

"You can't go!"

"Mom, we've already been through this."

"I know, I know . . . I've begged you to loosen up for years and now when you do something crazy, as crazy as I would myself, I don't want you to."

"You have no choice, Mother. I'm leaving," Jenna finally managed to remove Chloe's arms from around her neck and got out of the car.

"For Dalton?" Her mother cringed as she said the name.

"For Dalton." For life and adventure and all the things she'd missed out on, being the responsible one from far too young an age.

Her mother stepped aside as Jenna pulled her large suitcase from the back seat.

They hugged, and Jenna entered the airport. Unable to resist, she turned back for one last look and noticed an airport security guard speaking to her mother. The two appeared to be arguing and the man withdrew a book from his hip pocket and started to write a ticket.

Jenna's first inclination was to race outside and rescue her mother as she had countless times. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to turn away. Her mother would have to cope without her.

Their lives were about to change. Jenna realized these adjustments were long overdue. For much of her life -- except for brief periods during Chloe's marriages -- she'd been the one taking care of her mother. She'd provided emotional support, handled practical details and kept track of their lives. No wonder she was so good at organizing her boss, she often thought.

The first part of her journey was uneventful, and relaxing. She had a plane change in Seattle, where she boarded the flight for Fairbanks. She was assigned the window seat. The man sitting beside her had a beard similar to Dalton's. He was also dressed in a similar manner.

"Hello," she said, hoping to make polite conversation as a prelude to asking him a few questions.

He muttered something and stuffed his bag into the overhead compartment, then settled in the seat, taking more than his share of the arm space. She glanced around, hoping she could get another seat, but unfortunately the flight was full.

"Do you live in Alaska?"

He scowled at her and leaned back. Within seconds he was snoring. How rude!

Midway through the flight, she had to get up to use the rest room. He grumbled when he was forced to straighten so she could pass.

"Excuse me," she said as she exited the row.

He complained again when she returned, only louder. Jenna frowned. Dalton had told her about men like this. They flew down to the lower forty-eight, squandered their money on women and booze, and then returned to Alaska hungover and broke.

Jenna tried to read but her eyes grew heavy; she closed her magazine and felt herself drift off. She'd been up late, too excited to go to bed, carefully selecting what she'd take with her. Dalton had been wonderful, offering suggestions and assuring her he'd be at the gate when she landed.

The next thing she knew, Jenna was jarred awake. Her head rested on something hard and unyielding, and the man's voice in her ear was -- Man's voice? She jerked upright and to her dismay discovered that she'd pressed her head against her companion's shoulder.

Copyright © 2003 Debbie Macomber