The large open space had a cement floor upon which stood lines of tethered vehicles. She was surprised to see the rear of the ferry nearly fully opened with the floor almost level with the dark waters, and glanced nervously away. This bottom deck of the ferry was cold and smelled of the sea. They would soon be docking in Wrangell and she was happy to take advantage of this extra opportunity to check on her vehicle since she would not be driving it off while they were in port. Car deck calls were infrequent and she had learned to take advantage of them when she could. Several ferry workers, visible by their orange vests edged with reflective tape, kept an eye on the few passengers who wandered about looking for their vehicles.
“Watch out for those zippers.”
She nodded acknowledgement to the worker who had called out to warn her about the strip of zigzagged rebar on the cement floor that ran the length of the car deck in straight rows, and between which the loaded vehicles were parked. Standing about six inches high and looking like the spines of a serpent's back, these raised metal strips were attached to the floor and used to tie vehicles securely in place.
She opened the hatchback of her SUV to yank a canvas bag from between two suitcases that were piled in the back. Rummaging through her bag, she found the sweater she was looking for, before stuffing the rest of the items that had mushroomed out back inside. Squeezing the bag between her knees, she pinched the top edges close enough together to zip it shut, and shoved it back between the others. She slammed the lift gate closed before any of the other baggage could fall out.
“Whew!” she puffed, turning to sit on the bumper.
Wriggling into the warm comfort of her sweater, she pushed her hair back with one hand, straightening the headband that had slid forward over her eyebrows with her other hand. Her eyes had only been closed for a moment as she sat to catch her breath when something made her look up.
The old man she had bumped into that first day on the ferry was walking her way. The two had not crossed paths since his abrupt disappearance from the passenger deck. She watched him move between the parked cars as he shuffled along with his eyes looking down toward his feet. He was so quiet that she didn't know what had made her sense his presence.
He walked past her toward the stairway located just beyond her vehicle without speaking or even looking her way. He continued several more feet before abruptly stopping, turning around, and coming back. Facing her, he reached into his pocket, making only brief eye contact as he handed her a feather. The action caught Mara off guard. Without saying anything, she took it from his outstretched hand, and hoped he did not sense her hesitation.
“You will need this to protect your future from your past,” he said softly in the rhythmic monotonic accent that she would learn was shared by many in this region.
“Your present is the future of your past. All who come here seek the future of their past. You will need this to protect your future from your past.” Turning, he walked quietly away.
Mara watched him pull open the heavy steel door to the stairway and step over the raised threshold. In seconds, he climbed out of her sight. She was still sitting on the bumper of her vehicle when the sound of a man's voice startled her.
“Are you okay, Miss?” the voice behind her said. “Didn't you hear the bell that signals that you have to get off of the car deck?”
She glanced at her watch. It showed she had been sitting there for nearly half an hour.
“It sounded three times,” the man persisted, this time in a slightly louder voice.
Mara stood, turning to see a man standing behind her. Over his clothes he wore an orange bib with yellow reflective tape around the edges. Written on his vest in black marking pen were the words Alaska Marine Highway.
“The bell…Are you okay, Miss?” the man repeated. In the background she heard the steel door to the stairway click shut.
“Huh? Yes. What bell?” I was just talking to that old man and thinking about something he said to me,” Mara rambled, trying to explain the unexpected lapse in time.
“You mean Joe?” The worker asked her.
“Joe?”
“The old native guy, Joe. I saw him walking down here a few minutes ago.”
“I guess so, “Mara answered. “Do you know him?”
“He rides the ferry between here and Haines all year long.”
Mara noticed the name, Bob, printed on the worker's nametag as he continued to tell her about the old man they called Joe.
“Some of the guys say he's an elder—a Tlingit elder to be exact. Don't ask me how they came up with that. Someone told someone else they know it for a fact, though. Anyway, they say he left his people somewhere up near Hoonah about five years ago and never went back. Others say he's Haida and took off for some reason he won't talk about. I dunno… he looks too short to be Haida to me. I think he's Tlingit—like they say.”
Mara gave an expressionless nod, unaware of why the distinction of the old man's ethnicity was relevant, yet at the same time finding her interest piqued at the added ambiguity it lent to his already mysterious persona. Why had he given her the feather?
“Anyway, a friend of mine who works the night shift has talked to him a few times,” Bob continued.
“I don't know if it's true or not, but Gary—that's my friends name— Gary—Gary told me a few years ago that Joe said he's a shaman. I can believe it, though, there's something about the old man—all that spirit stuff those people believe in—but he seems harmless enough from what I can tell. I don't pay much attention to those things, anyway. I got my own church. The shaman thing—don't understand it and don't need to…” Bob's words trailed off. He stared at his feet for several seconds before finishing. “I just tell it like I hear it.”
Mara began walking slowly to the door with Bob following closely behind. He stopped briefly to remove his blue baseball style cap and re-seat it on his head. For some reason, she stopped to wait for him.
“There's a lot o’ stories,” he said. “It's hard to know what's true and what isn't. Most people say Joe lost his entire family to a house fire in Hoonah and after that took to riding the ferry—you know—to leave those memories behind, I guess. In any case,” Bob said, opening the door to the stairwell, “he's a peaceful sort, all right. Joe doesn't bother anyone and we all kind of look out for him. Me, I don't care much about his reasons. He's a paying customer, just like anyone else. He don't give me no trouble, and I don't give him none either.”
Bob leaned against the open door to keep it from swinging closed. His eyes narrowed to a solemn squint. He looked directly at Mara, speaking in a low, even tone that made her listen carefully to his words.
“It's really none of my business, Miss, and you can take this for whatever it's worth…” Bob scratched his nose before continuing, “Joe doesn't talk to many people and he doesn't talk often. All I can tell you is this, if it were me—and knowing the things I've heard—if I were you, I'd pay attention to whatever it was he had to say.”
Mara looked directly at Bob and nodded before beginning to walk up the stairway. The sound of the door banging closed behind her made her jump. The whole conversation with Bob had made her jittery. She hurried back to her stateroom and laid the feather on the table next to her wedding ring, which she picked up and placed in her pocket.
She studied the feather. It was large and gray with black tips around the edges. There was a small red dot painted on the right edge, about a third of the way from the top. Mara didn't know what either the feather or the dot meant. Fingering the wedding ring in her pocket, she studied the feather for several minutes more.
The encounter with the old man had been odd. How did this stranger even know she had a past? Was his selection of her as the recipient of the feather simply the random act of an eccentric old man? Why did she keep running into the man named Joe, and why did she feel such calm around him when her mind told her she should feel uneasy? She studied the feather more closely, holding it by its quill up to the light, and rolling
it from side to side. She ran her thumb and forefinger along its natural curve up the edge, sliding them over the dot, before finally slipping it into a safe place in her bag.
She had read about the natives of this region, both the Tlingit and the Haida, and of their history deep with legend. As soon as she could get to a bookstore, she would read again about these people and try to learn more about the meaning of the feather.
Tucking a crease in the drab cotton bedspread under the edge of the pillow on her berth, Mara could not shrug off the feeling that the meeting with Joe today had some important implication for her future. Was it coincidence that she had encountered the mysterious man twice in as many days? She wanted to dismiss what had happened as a chance encounter, but she couldn't. Something about the man that she couldn't quite put her finger on wouldn't let her. Certainly, Bob's words of caution didn't help. Rationalizing her thoughts, she dismissed them. What did Bob know, anyway? Like he had said, he only told what he heard—or something like that.
CHAPTER FOUR
Meeting Thor
MARA STOOD ON THE OUTER DECK WATCHING THE COASTLINE, AS SHE HAD done for the last two days. What would her future bring? Alaska was already proving to be more interesting and mysterious than she had anticipated. Why did the words spoken by the mysterious man named Joe keep clouding her mind?
Your present is the future of your past.
You will need this to protect your future from your past.
All who come here seek the future of their past?
What did that mean? Were these the ramblings of an old man who was trying to get over some kind of trauma, or did she, as Bob had cautioned her, need to pay attention to what Joe said?
There were Bob's words intruding into her thoughts again.
What did Bob know, anyway? What was the importance of the old man's message in respect to her new life here in Alaska? Maybe she would find the opportunity to ask Joe more about the meaning of the feather and his message before they docked in Haines the day after tomorrow. She was already thinking about it too much and maybe a simple explanation would put her mind at ease.
What she needed right now was something else to focus on. Gathering her things, she walked back inside and down the narrow hallway to the purser's station. Making her way through the dining area, she passed three bland-looking women, each dressed in black, who were putting together a jigsaw puzzle on one of the tables. With the ferry now in port in Wrangell, and scheduled to be here for the next twenty-four hours, it seemed like a good time to get off the vessel and look around. She was certain the change in scenery would do her good.
There was no one in the purser's station, but there was enough information posted to answer the questions she had. Back outside again, she leaned against the deck rail and pulled her gloves out of her pocket, before remembering that she had tucked her wedding ring into that same pocket earlier. She watched it fall in slow motion into the water. Powerless to retrieve it, she felt the blood drain from her face. The sound of a splash and commotion in the water near the dock momentarily diverted her attention from the incomprehensible horror of losing the last remnant of her life with Brad in such a way.
She could see furious splashing in the water below near the wood pilings that held up the dock. Several ferry workers were standing near the edge, peering at something in the water. Two of them were attempting to throw a line out to what she could now see was a large dog. Squelches and beeps came from the hand-held radio a third worker held to his mouth, and into which he was barking a barrage of muffled words.
“Thor! Get out of the water! Now!” A deep voice boomed from the car deck below. Within seconds, a tall man rushed in giant strides down the ferry ramp and over to the beach alongside the dock. He whistled in three short bursts at the dog that was now swimming toward shore. Moments later a large dog climbed onto the beach and ran to his owner, shaking his fully soaked coat repeatedly, and throwing wet sand and water in every direction before dropping something from his mouth onto the ground.
“Gol blame you, Thor!” the man shouted, grabbing a hold of the collar around the dog's neck and snapping on a leash. Bending down, he picked something up off the ground where the dog had just stood. Holding the object up to the light for a moment, he studied it before stuffing it into his pocket.
“How many times have I told you not to do that?” he said to the dog.
Mara watched the dripping wet man lead his dog over to the ferry workers who stood huddled on the dock in conversation. After a few minutes, he led the animal up the ferry on-ramp to the car deck, holding the leash with one hand, and carrying a yellow piece of paper in the other.
A notice posted at the Purser's office had stated that the ferry departure would be delayed for another half a day. Upset about the loss of her ring, Mara decided to walk into town just to get away from the mishap.
Maybe this whole move to Alaska thing hadn't been such a good idea if this was the kind of luck she was going to have there. Sarah was probably right, she should have just stayed in Boston where she didn't have to deal with things like strange men with feathers, and dropping her wedding ring into the briny bottomless deep of the ocean.
Feeling defeated and totally lacking in the courage she had felt when boarding the ferry several days ago, she walked down the stairwell to the car deck and headed toward the ramp that would lead her off the ferry.
She was unable to avoid the man and his wet dog walking between the cars in her direction. Suddenly, the dog lunged playfully forward, stood up on his hind legs, placed his paws on her shoulders, and started licking her face.
“Geezo Pete, Thor!” the owner said, pulling the oversized dog down and tightening the leash.
Mara stepped back, brushing wet sand from her shoulders, while the man reined the dog back tightly to his side and tied the leash to the door handle of one of the cars.
“You all right?” he said, rushing to Mara, who was busy regaining her composure.
“I'm fine. No worries. I'm fine,” she tried to reassure him. “He seems to have a lot of puppy in him,” she added, still brushing wet sand from her jacket.
“That's one way to put it,” the man replied.
“Thor, gol danged it, we're gonna have to talk about this one,” he said sternly to the now innocent looking dog.
“I'm Doug Williams,” he said, extending his hand to Mara. “Cap to my friends. I'll pay for any damages to your clothes.”
“That won't be necessary. Really…everything's fine,” she assured him, even though right now, everything was not.
Cap reached down and undid the leash from the door, bringing the dog closer to Mara. “You owe this lady a big apology, Thor,” he said to the dog.
“He broke loose from me on the car deck when he saw something fall into the water,” Cap said to Mara, pulling the object out of his pocket to show it to her. “It looks like somebody's wedding ring.”
Mara paled with disbelief. “That's my ring!” she blurted. “He found my ring!”
She reached for the familiar ring, taking it from a speechless Cap. Thor sat near her feet looking as sweet and innocent as was possible for an animal that must weigh well over ninety pounds. Absently, Mara stroked the coarse, wet hair on Thor's head, as the dog quietly lay down at her feet.
“You mean this is yours?” Cap replied, looking somewhat confused.
“It's my wedding ring,” Mara answered, pointing inside to where the initials MBE/BAE were inscribed. “It fell out of my pocket a few minutes ago when I took my gloves out. I saw it fall into the water. I can't believe your dog found it. I thought I'd never see it again.”
Fighting back tears, she stooped to wrap her arms around Thor's neck. Putting her cheek against his head, she whispered, “You're a good dog. Thank you.”
“He's a great dog,” she said to Cap. “So beautiful…”
“I got him when he was a pup about three years ago,” Cap said. “He's a wolf hybrid…don't let that scare you, now. He's about the best dog
I've ever had and a pretty good judge of people, too. He can smell dishonesty and meanness a mile away. I can tell right now that Thor trusts you. He'll look out for you, too, if you ever find yourself in need when he's around. He won't forget you either.”
“And I'm not likely to forget him, “Mara responded, petting Thor's head one more time, not at all put off by the revelation that the dog was half wolf. “I'm Mara Edwards,” she said, extending her hand to Cap, smiling as she spoke.
Standing beside Cap, Mara felt more petite than her 5’9” height usually allowed her to feel. It seemed right that such a tall guy would have a dog as big as Thor. Thor's back stood at the level of her hips, with most of the animal's height being in its long and powerful looking legs. She couldn't help but notice that Thor's haunting, amber eyes lent an aura of wisdom, or something like it, that drew her to him and made her feel safe.
“I guess your husband will be pretty relieved you didn't lose your ring.” Cap said.
“My husband died four years ago in a plane crash,” Mara replied, the smile now gone from her face. “Today was the first day I took off the ring. I was devastated when it fell into the water.”
She stopped herself from saying more. Maybe she was giving this stranger too much information. She removed a gold chain from around her neck and placed the ring safely on it before sliding the chain back over her head, letting the ring hang beside a small medallion that had previously hung there alone. Reaching down again to the dog lying at her feet, she stroked his head gently. “You're a good dog, aren't you?” Thor looked up at her before rolling onto his side and resting his head on her feet.
“Well, I'd better take him somewhere where he can dry off before he gets too comfortable there,” Cap said after an awkward silence.
Feather From a Stranger Page 2
