Chapter 3
Peter Baranov was easier to talk to than anybody Shanti had ever met in her life.
She didn't know if it was because he was breathtakingly attractive or if his large, solid presence was simply incredibly reassuring, but not only had she agreed to come to dinner with him, now that they were sitting and talking, she was having a hard time not just telling him everything about herself immediately.
She squashed the urge, because she was sure the last thing a big, kind, good-looking man like Pete wanted was to hear all about her sad-sop life, but the fact that the urge existed made her feel almost like a different person.
But they were off to a good start, even if she couldn't quite believe the implication behind 'good start'.
It suggested he was already thinking ahead to more dates.
In fact, technically, they'd already set one up, since she'd said she would buy dinner next time.
For a moment, sitting there in the warm, noisy, friendly pub, across from a handsome, charming man, Shanti really did feel like someone else entirely, and wondered whose life she'd stepped into.
Whosever it was, she would probably have to give it back soon, so she seized onto the chance to keep being somebody else right now and said, "So do you still live in Alaska, and just travel around for work, or…?"
"I'm still a resident there, but I haven't been home in a while now. There's a boom in the rail industry and it's keeping me busy. I miss it, though. What about you?" Peter's brown eyes shone with interest. "Is Nepal home, or is Virtue?"
Shanti hadn't meant for the question to get turned around on herself, and stuttered through her answer.
"I'm—oh. I, well. Virtue is home. I grew up here.
My parents, Mom was from Nepal, Dad was from here.
They met when he was traveling during college, and…
my grandparents said it was love at first sight.
They didn't think they could make it work, but Mom ended up applying to the college here so they could be together, so I was born here. "
"I believe in love at first sight," Peter said with a smile, but he'd been listening more closely than most people did, because he also, very gently, said, "Your grandparents said?"
Shanti folded and unfolded her hands a couple of times, watching her fingers tangle with each other before glancing up at Peter with a brief, resigned smile. "Mom and Dad were killed in a car wreck when I was nine. Dad's parents pretty much raised me."
Peter exhaled like he'd expected something like that from her phrasing, and nodded. "That must have been really difficult."
Shanti waited a beat for the I'm sorry that always came along with that kind of thing, then found herself relaxing very slightly as he didn't say it.
After another moment she said, "It was," and then, feeling awkward, mumbled, "Thanks for not saying 'I'm sorry.
' I never really know what to say after that, because it's not okay, but also, 'thanks' feels like such a strange thing to say to 'I'm sorry?
' 'Thanks, me too?' It just feels like the wrong response. "
"I'm not sure there's ever a response that really feels like the right one," Pete said, but he was nodding. "There's also the thing about how we use 'I'm sorry' to mean two different things, right?"
"Right," Shanti said, almost in relief. "Sometimes it's sorry because I did something wrong and I'm apologizing, and sometimes it's sorry because you experienced that thing I had nothing to do with, but we use it for the first one so much it usually feels like people are trying to take responsibility for my parents dying, kind of.
And unless they're the deer that jumped out onto the road that night, it's not their fault. "
Pete gave a startled little flinch and Shanti ducked her head, embarrassed. "Of course, the poor deer got killed, too, so probably nobody I've talked to since is it. Not that they would be anyway, but…"
"Oh, you don't—so you don't—"
She looked up again to see Peter's dark eyebrows pulled down, his expression odd. Shanti waited, curious, while that expression—confusion and surprise, mostly—flickered across his face until he got it under control. She tilted her head, even more curious. "What?"
"You said you grew up here? In Virtue? And your Dad was from here?"
"Yes? Why?"
"But you're not…" Peter trailed off, then shook himself a little and smiled. "Nothing. I was just imagining you knowing about people turning into deer."
To her own surprise, Shanti laughed. Not loudly, but it was a laugh, and she'd laughed more than once already this evening. It was hard to remember the last time she'd laughed much at all, so noticing it in the moment was nice. "No one I know turns into a deer. Not as far as I know, at least. You?"
"No deer," Peter replied, and then, straight-faced, said, "A couple of moose, though."
Shanti bit her lip but couldn't stop another little smile. "I've never seen a moose. Are they as big as they look in the internet videos?"
"Yeah. They're enormous." Peter gestured above his head, like he was trying to demonstrate a moose's size.
"Well, I can't see how that would work." Shanti gave up trying not to smile. It felt nice to just be quietly happy. "It would take at least three people to make up a moose's mass, wouldn't it? Even big guys like you."
"It would have to be magic," he murmured. Their drinks arrived, and Peter took his like it was a lifeline, indulging in a big slurp while Shanti stared at her own in fascination. It was unusually clear for ginger ale, with a pool of gold-ish liquid at the bottom of the glass beneath the ice.
"It's homemade," their cheerful waitress told her. "Ginger syrup and soda water. You'll need to give it a good stir before you sip."
The waitress and Peter watched both watched as Shanti gave the drink a vigorous stir and a tentative sip that ended with her eyes widening. "Oh, that's good."
The waitress beamed and left the table while Shanti tilted her drink toward Peter. "Would you like to try?"
"Oh. Sure? Let me—" He took his straw from his own drink and knocked it against the outside of his glass a couple times to get the beaded soda off it, then put it into Shanti's ginger ale and took a small sip. His eyes widened too and he withdrew the straw, looking astonished. "It's almost spicy!"
"It's great," Shanti said happily. "My aamāu, my Nepali grandmother, used lots of ginger in her cooking. She would have loved this. Do you cook?" She had no idea why she asked, except to keep the conversation going and to keep it more focused on Peter than herself.
He chuckled and shook his head. "I'm one of those guys who does well if you give them a grill but never learned my way around a kitchen. Fire good, oven scary."
"Fire's much scarier than an oven!"
"I know you're right in every logical way, but…fire good. Oven scary." He gave a caveman grunt, and Shanti giggled. "What about you," he asked. "Do you cook? I get by mostly on microwave meals, honestly."
"I do, I cook, I learned… well I cooked for Gran and Gramp here, but I also learned to cook Nepalese food from my aamāu."
"So you must have spent real time there? Unless you're the fastest learner in the world."
"We visited twice when I was little, before my parents died," Shanti said quietly, wondering how the conversation had come back to her.
"And then my grandparents, all of them, they put so much effort and money into making sure that they all got to spend time with me.
So I went to Nepal every summer almost all the way through college.
" She hesitated, then shook her head. Her grandparents in Nepal had died unexpectedly when she was a junior in college, and she didn't want to go into that right now.
Peter studied her momentarily before nodding. "What'd you study in college?"
Disconcerted heat flushed through Shanti.
That was the second time, at least, that Peter had read her well enough to handle a subject delicately.
By changing the subject entirely this time, in fact.
Shanti wasn't accustomed to anyone doing that at all.
For a few seconds she just gazed at him, wondering if he was this observant with everyone, or if she just showed her emotions very clearly.
Though she didn't think she did. She'd spent a long time making sure big feelings stayed quiet and tamped down inside her.
"Nursing. I was going to study literature, but then… "
So many things had happened. Shanti took a breath and picked one of them, which was as true as any others, if nowhere near the whole truth. "…I decided I'd like to be able to find a job in my field."
Peter gave a low rumbling laugh. "Yeah, it's tough out there, isn't it? I went to trade school. Welding, so I could work on railroads. There are probably more jobs in nursing, but I'm not brave enough for that kind of work."
"Not brave enough?"
"Well, first off, I don't like needles."
Shanti ducked her head to hide a laugh, then looked up, trying not to smile. "Not a good career for you, then, no. Although they're not as bad when you're putting them in someone else instead of—"
Peter actually shuddered and went pale beneath the warm browns of his skin tones. Shanti, amused, said, "Oh, you really don't like needles. No tattoos, then?"
He went from pale to nearly green. "No. You?"
"I don't know if I should tell you," Shanti said, almost laughing despite herself now. "You might faint."
"That sounds like a yes? How can you stand it?"
"I'm very brave," Shanti said solemnly, and to her delight, Peter Baranov gave a great big surprised belly laugh.
"You must be. I suppose snakes don't bother you, either."
"Ah. Well. They don't bother me, no. I can handle the non-venomous ones. But I'd rather avoid them. I take it you don't like them?"
The big man looked sheepish. "Actually, I think they're cool.
There aren't any native to Alaska, so I have zero instinct to stay away from them.
Rattlesnakes, though! The first time I heard one, my be—uh, my buddy about jumped out of his skin and I had no idea why.
Once I learned to recognize the rattle, though, I started being creeped out by it. "
"I've always kind of liked rattlesnakes because they're usually polite enough to warn you before they bite. None of the venomous snakes in Nepal do that. But still." Shanti raised her eyebrows a little. "I'd rather avoid them."
"I'll drink to that." Peter made a show of raising his soda glass, and Shanti tinked hers against it.
Their dinner arrived as the toast ended, and she pushed the piping hot halloumi fries toward him, encouraging him to take one and try it.
He did, hissing and huffing cooling air around the hot cheese, then, sounding like a man who'd burned his tongue, he said, "Those are good. "
"I love them," she murmured happily. "I can't believe I've never come here. Homemade ginger ale and halloumi fries."
"Where else in town is good, if you don't eat here?"
"Oh, I just don't eat out much at all. The Italian Place used to be good.
It probably still is. And the Silver Dollar Diner was good when I was little.
I don't really know about anywhere else.
" Shanti shrugged, though she did then tilt her head toward the town square.
"Except Imelda's Doughnuts. It's amazing, but she's only open in the winter.
Best doughnuts in the world, though. Or at least in Virtue. "
"You think she'll expand to summer hours once the train line is in and tourism picks up?"
Shanti ate for a moment, considering that.
She had no real idea, of course, but Peter was so good at casual conversation she felt like she could take lessons from him.
"I don't think so. Part of the reason she only runs it in the winter is she says it's too hot to fry doughnuts in the summer, so she's got a coffee cart for the summers.
But I know there are a lot of smaller businesses looking forward to the train tourism. And some people who aren't at all."
Peter nodded. "Shkalnik is a stop-off point for some of the smaller cruise ships.
There's a lot of talk about letting more of them stop there, building a bigger deep-water dock, that kind of thing, and on one hand, I can see the value of it.
On the other, it's a huge change, and we're not sure we've got the infrastructure for it.
Well, no, that's not true. We just don't. We can barely handle what we've got coming in, so adding more ships would complicate a lot.
But of course, it would bring in more business, too, so… yeah, I get it."
"How big is Shkalnik? I've never heard of it," Shanti said apologetically.
Peter waved his burger, dismissing the concern as he finished his bite. "A few thousand people, and don't worry, nobody's heard of it. Do you know where Juneau is?"
Shanti wobbled her hand in response, meaning, kind of, and he smiled. "It's about forty air miles to the northwest of there. So basically somewhere no one would ever find it."
"Air miles? Does that mean the only way you can get there is by flying?"
"You can take a ferry, too," Peter said cheerfully. "Takes a lot longer, but the whale watching is better."
"Really?"
The man across from her looked surprised. "Oh. Yeah. I forget that's not all that normal, Outside."
"Outside? Do you usually keep whales inside…?"
He had a very good grin, which she was reminded of as he flashed it at her. "No, 'Outside,' with a capital O. It's what people from Alaska call the rest of the world. Especially the Lower 48, though."
"The Lower…" Shanti shook her head. "You're kidding."
"Nope. Lower 48, Outside, the continental US. We have all kinds of names for the rest of you."
"What about Hawaii?"
"Going to Hawaii isn't going Outside, it's going to Hawaii, because it's not part of the Lower 48. And because we go there so often."
Shanti laughed, quiet but surprised. "You do? Isn't it too hot for you?"
"That's why we go. Usually in December. Although I've never actually been. You?"
"No. It's really just Virtue and Nepal, for me."
"That's still quite a spread. Ww—you'll have to go someday."
Shanti was nearly certain he'd started to say we'll have to go. Bewildering, the idea made her heart leap. Far, far more than the idea of going on her own, for some reason. She managed a smile and shook her head. "The train doesn't go there."
"I'll build a railroad just for you," Peter promised, and although it was an absolutely ridiculous idea, somehow Shanti believed he would if he could, and the belief filled her with warmth and comfort.