Correcting the Landscape by Marjorie Kowalski Cole Page B

black and yellow ropes.
    â€œFrom Mobile to Allakaket is an unusual experience,” I said.
    â€œMr. Gallette had Parkinson’s and I’d seen that before,” said Lucerne. “But oh man it was different all right. The people there treated me right, but we were aliens to each other at first. They are the best people, most of the time.”
    She and Gayle exchanged looks and smiles over “most of the time.”
    â€œThere’s a barbecue going on back there, plenty to eat,” I said, and waved back toward the Southside Community Center.
    â€œI don’t dare go near that food,” Lucerne said. “My waistline is totally out of control. But where’s Jack, is he missing a good meal?”
    â€œOh he’s not. I sent him over. I see you’re helping the Scouts, Gus.”
    â€œYou need some work gloves,” said Lucerne.
    â€œI’ll get you some gloves, Gus,” said Gayle.
    â€œNow don’t trouble yourself, please.”
    Lucerne insisted. “Are you kidding? This is a public health situation. I don’t want to be giving you a tetanus shot, or worse. Come on up to the house.”
    I stepped inside after them and stood in a dark closetlike entryway while they went through a couple of milk crates full of winter things, caps and mufflers and mittens, giggling and encouraging me to have patience. It was close in there but exciting.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” The inner door opened and a pale young woman stuck her head and then half her length into the crack.
    â€œCathy, time you woke up,” said Lucerne.
    â€œI feel good, I needed the sleep.”
    â€œWhy don’t you go ahead and get yourself some breakfast,” said Gayle.
    The young lady sized me up with a flat stare. She wore a white thermal-underwear shirt, with several snaps undone, and her breasts were small, pretty mounds against the shirt. I looked away from the outline of her nipples and her thin waist. Her streaked light brown hair and pale skin contrasted with dark eyes.
    â€œDon’t think I’m hungry,” she said, and smiled. “How are you?”
    â€œThis is my boss, Cathy. My cousin Cathy Carew, staying with us for a little while,” said Gayle.
    â€œHow do you do.” I nodded.
    â€œJack around?” said Cathy. “He like to go up to the store for me?”
    Gayle didn’t answer but turned and faced her.
    â€œHe’s helping with Cleanup Day, Cathy. I don’t want him running errands. I’ll help you in a sec.”
    The girl shrugged and withdrew.
    The brief episode subdued the two women with me, but Gayle gave a victory shout when she unearthed a pair of leather work gloves with wide, stiff fingers. She pressed them into my arms. I’m used to women, but not this way, three of them for a minute and now two of them, formidable women studying me in this tiny, dim space as I tried on the gloves.
    â€œCathy’s on the run from Allakaket,” said Gayle. “She wants to try something new.”
    â€œI remember you told me about her.”
    â€œLots of us have to leave home to save our skins,” said Gayle.
    â€œI thought I was a wild young woman in Mobile,” said Lucerne, “but there was some serious hard living out in Allakaket. Too bad. It goes over the edge sometimes.”
    â€œI married to get out of there, and I don’t fault myself. Accomplished that much, anyway, it brought me to Fairbanks,” said Gayle. “The marriage didn’t take. Nor the next one. Not sure that babysitting Cathy is going to take, either, Lucerne.”
    â€œWe’ll give it a few more days,” Lucerne said, her voice low and soft.
    We stepped outside as they spoke, and moved back to the street.
    â€œGoing to go look for Jack,” said Gayle.
    â€œI’m going to bring these gloves back.”
    â€œNo, you’re not, you don’t worry about those,” said Lucerne. “Mister Traynor,