Read Online The Singing of the Dead by Dana Stabenow - Free Book Online

father was safely out of the way. Even then, he waited until the work of the day was done, and felt virtuous in doing so.
    Kate at sixteen had never been kissed. Truth to tell, no boy had ever had the courage to so much as try to hold her hand. It might have been the force of her grandmother's personality, or the power Ekaterina had over the tribe, but it might also have had something to do with Kate's air of self-containment, of assurance, of capability. She didn't give off vibes like she needed anybody in her life, let alone a guy. Her classmates saw her as smart, and some of them translated that as arrogant, and some of them translated that as eccentric. She was quiet and some of them translated that as stuck up, others as shy. She had no close friends. She had no boyfriends.
    Which was why Ethan's obvious attention hit her like a ton of bricks. Tall, good-looking, funny, smart (even then Kate couldn't abide stupidity), competent at whatever he turned his hand, and best of all, someone with whom she was familiar, someone with whom she already had history, someone who didn't require the elaborate ritual of inane chatter and silly giggles and he-told-my-brother-and-my-brother-told-me conversations and slap-and-tickle games that preoccupied her contemporaries. This was Ethan, and it was obvious that he was interested. It was enough to make every female nerve in her body sit up and take notice. The three weeks between Ethan coming home and Abel leaving were the longest and most excruciating three weeks of her life.
    The homestead was at fifteen hundred feet, on the edge of the wide, level valley that made up the center of the Park. Widow's Peak was another thousand feet up, a mere foothill to the Quilaks looming behind. It was a clear day, and they fancied they could see all the way to Prince William Sound. “Think they're catching anything?” Ethan said as he unpacked their picnic.
    Kate shook out an old olive green Army blanket. “I hope so. I haven't had any salmon out of the Sound yet this summer.”
    Ethan sat back on his heels and narrowed his eyes against the sun. “If I'd known that, I would have brought you one out of the creek myself.”
    Kate hoped her skin was too dark and the light was too bright for him to see her blush. “No, I meant salt water fish. They're always fatter than the ones you catch in fresh water.” She changed the subject. “Do you want a fire?”
    “Do we need one?”
    She looked up to meet his eyes and flushed again. “I guess not,” she said, and reached for the Spam sandwiches.
    They ate mostly in silence, because Ethan, after all, also had been raised in what Robert Service had called “the hush of the Great Alone,” but when their meal was over and they were packing the debris into their daypacks, he found occasion to brush her hand with his. It felt exactly as if an electric spark had leaped between them, and she jumped. He grinned, and leaned in.
    She didn't move during that first kiss, curious at the touch of his lips on hers. He drew back and looked at her. “Come on, Kate,” he said, his voice husky, “kiss me back.”
    She wouldn't admit to not knowing how, but she let him teach her, and oh my, did it feel good. So did his tongue delicately tracing the whorls of her ear, his teeth at the base of her throat, his hand cupping her breast, his knee rubbing between her legs. She felt like she'd been run over by a truck, a big one; she had no breath to protest, and no will to, either.
    She was naked, and he was shirtless and starting on the zip of his jeans when the Super Cub buzzed the top of Widow's Peak on a short final into the homestead. It was Abel, flying back from Alaganik Bay after the Fish and Game had closed the bay to fishing for the week, and he got an eyeful.
    Abel asked Ethan one question when they got back down to the homestead. “You use a rubber?”
    Ethan set his jaw. “We didn't get that far,” he muttered finally, when it became evident that his father