An Alaskan Wedding. Belle Calhoune

Copyright

       Chapter One

      Grace Corbett peered out the window of the seaplane, her eyes sweeping over a craggy landscape that looked as if it came straight out of an Alaskan postcard. Majestic white-capped mountains loomed in the distance. A wide expanse of tundra stretched out for miles. Vibrant, green trees dusted with snow dotted the scenery. Firs, spruce and pines, she imagined. She’d done a lot of reading in the past few weeks about Alaska in preparation for her assignment for the New York Tribune. According to her literature, these types of trees were among the most abundant found in the state.

      The plane was preparing for its final descent over Kachemak Bay, and it was proving to be a bumpy ride. The bucking motion of the plane was giving her motion sickness. She tried taking slow, shallow breaths to calm herself. “Focus on the moment, not the panic,” she whispered, reciting the mantra from her fear-of-flying class. “You’re here. You’re alive. You’re here. You’re alive,” she chanted.

      “Poor thing. You look terrified.” The Southern twang pierced through her terror, reminding her that she wasn’t the only passenger on the flight to Love. She turned to the woman seated next to her, making eye contact with the attractive redhead who was staring at her with a look that oozed sympathy. Although she could tell from her expression the woman was well-meaning, it irritated Grace to be the object of someone’s pity. Been there, done that, she thought grumpily. She’d long ago decided that even if she lived to be one hundred and ten, no one was allowed to host a pity party in her honor. Even if it killed her, she was going to hold her head up high. Her chin trembled as she nodded. “I—I don’t like planes. Especially little ones.”

      She let out a moan as the plane bucked and shuddered, jerking her to and fro. Nausea rose up in her throat. Raising a hand to her mouth, she uttered a silent prayer to the big guy upstairs. Even though she’d desperately wanted this assignment, being stuck on a tin-can plane hadn’t been part of the bargain. Something told her that her boss Tony hadn’t wanted her to know before she got to Anchorage about the so-called plane she’d be flying on for the last leg of her journey.

      The Southern twang intruded on her thoughts again. “I guess you’re not a good flier. You’re as pale as a sheet,” she said with a knowing look. “I’m Sophie Miller from Saskell, Georgia.” She reached out and clutched Grace’s hand. “Hold my hand, darlin’. Squeeze it as hard as you like. I won’t flinch.”

      Grace obeyed without question, tightly squeezing Sophie’s hand. Strangely enough, it made her feel better. If the plane was going down, at least she wouldn’t be alone.

      “I’m G-Grace, from New York City. Grace Corbett.” Fear was making her teeth chatter uncontrollably. The sound of it rattled in her ears above the roar of the plane.

      “Nice to meet you, Grace,” Sophie said with a grin “I’m so excited about this adventure we’re embarking on,” she gushed. “Taking a job in an Alaskan fishing village. Talk about a leap of faith.”

      Grace sighed. “Yeah, it’s a real leap of faith.” She knew exactly what Sophie was talking about. Love. It was the reason she’d flown ten hours from New York to reach the remote town of Love, Alaska. It was all due to the pursuit of love. And happiness. And white picket fences covered in ice crystals and snow, she thought crankily.

      If only she wasn’t such a cynic about happily-ever-after. If only she wasn’t so deathly afraid of planes. And spiders. And being led astray by her feelings. She was a passenger on this tiny seaplane that looked as if a strong wind might blow it out of the sky. Thanks to Tony Manzel, her editor at the New York Tribune, she was making her way to a remote Alaskan village in order to pursue a once-in-a-lifetime story. He’d made these travel plans without taking her fear of flying into consideration. He might as well have strapped her to the wing of the plane and shouted “Bon Voyage.”

      Two months ago, Tony had called her into his office and brought the story from a Juneau, Alaska, newspaper to her attention. Ever since then she hadn’t been able to get it, or Mayor Jasper Prescott, out of her mind. The article, written by Jasper Prescott, had been sharp and savvy and moving. According to the mayor, the town of Love had experienced a mass exodus of female residents two decades ago. Since then they’d never been able to restore the male to female ratio in town. Add a cannery that had gone belly-up and dwindling income from local businesses, and it had all the markings of a recession.

      “Finding Love in Alaska” had been the headline. It had a certain ring to it. Jasper had thrown down the gauntlet and challenged single women to come to Love in pursuit of romance and fellowship. It was his belief that an influx of women would revitalize the town and bring back prosperity. He’d poured his heart out about his inability to prevent his own wife from leaving Love over thirty years ago due to the harsh climate, lack of sunlight and his own personal failings. She’d passed away of pneumonia in the Lower 48 before he could win her back. It was tragic and moving.

      With stories like that, the town of Love was a gold mine.

      If everything fell into place as she hoped it would, her time in Alaska would result in a major journalistic coup.

       Dear Lord. Please don’t let me die out here in the wilds of Alaska. I know You must think I’m pretty nervy asking You for favors since I haven’t kept up with my faith, but I really could use Your help now. I’m out here on a wing and a prayer, Lord. Pun intended.

      “Ladies, make sure you’re buckled up,” the pilot shouted. “We’re about to make our final descent, and the wind is kicking up a bit.”

      Grace didn’t like the sound of that. Wasn’t there something really dangerous called wind shear? And maybe that clanking sound was the engine falling from the plane. She’d seen a news report about a plane making a crash landing after losing an engine. As a result of her terror, her body tensed up even more. She felt as if she might snap in two. In an unexpected act of bravery, she peeked out the window, gasping at the rate at which the ground was rising up to greet them. She could see massive trees and snow and churning water. Pressing her eyes closed, she began whispering unintelligible words. She clenched the armrest so tightly it felt as if her knuckles might break through her skin.

      The plane lurched a bit to the right, causing her to let out a hoarse cry as it landed with a thud on the water. She leaned forward in her seat, placing her hands behind her head in crash position.

      “We’re here! We made it,” Sophie announced in a peppy voice. “And so our adventure begins.”

      Slowly Grace opened her eyes. Sophie was smiling, her pretty face lit up with joy. Thankfully, they were still in one piece. Safe and sound. She let out a ragged breath. “On a wing and a prayer,” she muttered. Her queasiness hadn’t completely subsided, and the gentle rocking of the seaplane wasn’t making things any better. If she’d eaten any lunch she would surely have lost it by now.

      “Well, ladies, we’ve reached our final destination. Welcome to Love. It’s been a pleasure flying with you. Thank you for flying O’Rourke Charters.” The grinning golden-haired pilot, who looked as if he might moonlight as a model, stood up and ushered them toward the exit with a flourish of his hand. If she hadn’t been so terrified about the flight, she might have noticed his chiseled features and broad shoulders. She vaguely remembered him introducing himself when she’d boarded the seaplane, but her mind had been consumed by the small size of the plane and her crippling fear of flying.

      “Thank you for getting us here safely, Mr. O’Rourke,” Sophie chirped as she grabbed her carry-on bag and stood up. “Come on, Grace. Alaska is waiting for us.”

      Love, Alaska, was a fishing village located fifty minutes from Anchorage, off the Pacific Ocean, on the southeastern tip of the state. Sparsely populated, there were fewer than a thousand residents. Once known for its wild Alaskan salmon and halibut, Love’s economy had fallen off in recent years, along with its abundant fish supply. For the next six weeks, this was home.