“It’s more than that.” Catherine turned around, her arms folded firmly across her chest. Behind her, Laurel could see the caterer’s crew cleaning up, folding tablecloths, and carrying huge floral centerpieces back to their trucks. “I can’t believe you actually thought your father and I would give you permission to go traipsing off to ... to Alaska, of all places....”
She let her voice trail off, meanwhile staring at her daughter coldly. “What were you thinking? Or maybe you weren’t thinking at all. Maybe this is simply some act of teenage rebelliousness.”
Laurel stood very still, resisting the urge to yell or beg or run from the room. Instead, she looked her mother squarely in the eye. “Surely you must understand how important this is to me.”
For the first time, her mother’s gaze wavered. As Catherine Adams glanced at her husband, Laurel felt a surge of strength rise up inside.
“I’ve wanted to be a biologist ever since I was a little girl,” she went on, sounding more and more sure of herself. “You know how much I’ve always loved being outdoors, collecting things, studying nature. But I’ve always done it on my own. Everything I know, I’ve taught myself or learned from books. I’ve never had a chance to do any fieldwork, to get out there and really do what research biologists do. You said yourself you couldn’t understand how I could bear to spend so much time cooped up in a lab.”
“What your mother meant,” Carter Adams said, “is that a girl your age should be out having fun. Going to parties, meeting people—”
“That may be fine for other girls my age, but it’s not what I want.” Laurel looked at her father pleadingly. “Don’t you know me well enough to see that?”
“But Alaska!” her mother cried. “It’s so far away. So wild. So ... so cold.”
“It’s not cold in the summer, Mother. Dr. Wells told me all about it. The area we’re going to, the Kenai Peninsula, is southwest of Anchorage, in the lower part of the state. The only snow I’m likely to encounter is at high elevations, up near the tops of mountains. The lake where we’ll be doing our research is moderate, not too hot and certainly not
cold—”
“You’re talking about this as if you’ve already decided you’re going,” Carter commented.
“I am,” Laurel said, her voice soft but firm. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I can’t pass it up. No one, not even you, can ask me to.”
This time the look her parents exchanged was one of resignation.
“It sounds as if her mind’s made up, Catherine.”
“I suppose Will Turner was right. Children reach a certain age and suddenly you can’t control them anymore.” Pointedly she added, “Even when you see they’re making rash decisions, there’s nothing you can do but stand by and watch, hoping they learn from their mistakes.”
Ordinarily, words like those would have hit Laurel like a blow. But inwardly she was rejoicing. Her parents were going to let her go! Maybe they weren’t being as supportive as she would have liked, but at least they weren’t standing in her way. And that meant that the fantasy she’d harbored for so long was about to become reality.
Chapter Two
“Guess what, Cassie! I’m going! I’m really going!”
Laurel’s squeal was so enthusiastic and so loud that Cassie Davis held the receiver away from her ear.
“Going where?” she finally asked.
“Alaska, that’s where!”
Cassie kicked off her sneakers and stretched across the brown leather couch that lined one wall of the den. She’d made a point of taking Laurel’s long-distance call in this room, the most comfortable in the Davis’s tumbledown Victorian house on the edge of Mountainville, Vermont. It had originally been a sun room. Now, the French doors that opened onto the garden were the only reminder that this had at one time been a place of leisure.
The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, stacked with the thick volumes her father used to teach anthropology at the university. He graded his students’ work at the huge mahogany desk in the center of the room—a desk piled so high with books and notes and papers that the haphazard stacks threatened to slide off at any moment. The dark red Persian rug with its intricate design and thick pile gave the room a hushed, somber feeling, as if this were a place for thinking deep thoughts.
“I gather you’re talking about that nature trip with Dr. what’s-his-name,” said Cassie.
“Dr. Wells,” Laurel corrected her. “Dr. Ethan Wells. And not only am I still thinking about it, my bags are practically packed!”
“So good old Mom and Dad finally agreed.”
Laurel laughed. “They nearly had a fit. You should have seen the look on my mother’s face when I told her I intended to spend the summer in Alaska, of all places. I get the feeling my parents haven’t figured out yet that it’s part of the United States.”
Cassie was barely listening as Laurel chattered away about her adventurous summer ahead. She was too busy studying the print hanging on the wall of her father’s study. Distractedly she twirled a strand of short, curly red hair around one finger. She’d seen that etching a thousand times before but had never given it much thought. Now, her mind began to wander as she dissected the techniques used by the artist who’d created it: the composition, the colors, the way dark and light were used in contrast....
She’d only been on spring break for two days, yet she’d already put all thoughts of her academic subjects on a back burner. Friday afternoon, right after her last class, she headed across campus, toward home. Without even stopping for a snack, she’d gone up to her room, taken out her tubes of acrylics, and begun a new painting.
What bliss it was, knowing she had a full nine days to devote to her one true love: her artwork. Almost immediately she forgot about catching up on the reading for her English Literature class. She’d also forgotten all her intentions of boning up on calculus, trying to make sense of symbols that since September had seemed like little more than squiggles to her. There would be time for that—later. For now, she was going to indulge herself. Every morning, after breakfast, she would open her paints and lose herself in the exhilarating act of creating.
She’d wanted to take an art course or two, just as she had all through high school, But months earlier, when she was putting together her schedule for her freshman year at Mountainville University, her parents stood firm.
“It’s time for you to get serious, Cassie,” her father, Professor Lawrence Davis, had insisted. She’d cringed when he waved his hand through the air dismissively, acting as if the paints spread out on the dining-room table were nothing more than toys. “I expect you to take a full academic load this year. You’re in college now. You’ve got to start thinking about your future, deciding what field you want to go into. I recommend you take courses in as many different areas as you can manage. Math, science, the
humanities....”
“Your father’s right.” As usual, her mother, also a professor at the university, had been in complete agreement with him. “You’re turning out to be a bit of a late bloomer, Cassie. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just that you have yet to find yourself. If you’d like, I can ask around and find out which classes would be the most worthwhile for you to take....”
Her freshman year wasn’t even over yet, and Cassie had already considered half a dozen majors. Her first-semester archaeology course had gotten her fired up for a good two weeks. When that faded, she got excited about economics ... for the better part of a week. Art history had her eating, sleeping, and breathing French Impressionists and German Expressionists for close to a month.
Yet in the end, none of them stuck. She always retreated home or to the university’s art studio to paint. For her, art was more than a hobby. It was a passion.
In a way, she envied her best friend. Laurel was only a freshman, but already she had no doubts about what direction she wanted her studies and her life to follow. In fact, Cassie’s parents had mentioned her best friend
more than once, citing her as an example of a “young woman who had her head screwed on straight.”
Cassie suspected they understood Laurel Adams better than they understood their own daughter. After all, Laurel, like them, was passionate about her work. For that matter, even Cassie’s fifteen-year-old brother, Mark, was a source of that same kind of irritation. He’d been a math whiz his entire life, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’d stick with what he excelled at.
It had been Cassie’s idea to live at home during her college years, earning her degree right here in her hometown. Growing up, she’d found being part of a college community fascinating. She’d always been proud that her parents worked at the university that was the center of the small New England town.
Yet having two parents who were professors at the same school where she was a student was turning out to be confining. They had something to say about everything she did: not only which courses she took and which professors she chose, but even which gym classes she signed up for. At night, around the dinner table, Lawrence and Virginia Davis engaged in endless discussion of the goings-on at Mountainville.
“Cassie?” Laurel was suddenly saying, her voice impatient. “Are you listening?”
“Sorry, Laurel. I guess I let my mind wander.” Cassie made a point of focusing on the telephone conversation. “Well, spending the summer in Alaska may not be my cup of tea, but I’m glad you’re going. Just make sure the bears don’t get you!”
“Frankly, I’m much more worried about the mosquitoes,” Laurel returned, laughing.
Cassie felt guilty for having been caught daydreaming. Her best friend simply knew her too well. She couldn’t help letting her mind drift off at the oddest times—when she was in class, for example, or even when, like now, she was on the phone with someone calling from hundreds of miles away.
Her two main passions, art and daydreaming, had something in common. And that was that they both took her out of her everyday life. In part, preferring to live in a world of fantasy was simply her nature. Yet there was another important factor that contributed to her tendency to retreat into herself: the fact that she’d always been chubby.
She wasn’t exactly what anyone would call fat, but she’d always been plump enough that the other kids used to lease her about her weight. The fact that she was also uncoordinated didn’t help. She was the type who was always picked last to be on a team, the girl who elicited groans from the others whenever it was her turn to bat during a baseball game.
Now, whenever she looked into the mirror, she had to admit she wasn’t that different from a lot of the other girls. During high school, she’d shot up a few inches, her curves changing enough to give her a silhouette that was pleasantly round, even if it was a little too full. Her coloring was striking, and she told herself that people were more likely to notice her full head of curly red hair and her bright blue eyes than the extra ten pounds she carried. Yet she still felt different. Between her natural tendency to be shy and her self-consciousness over being plump, she preferred being alone, pursuing what was important to her. When Saturday night rolled around, she was happy staying home by herself or with a friend, watching TV or renting a video—usually topping off the evening by ordering in a pizza or whipping up a batch of brownies.
“Well, Laurel,” Cassie said, determined to stop letting her mind wander and instead concentrate on the phone conversation, “it sounds like you’ve got a great summer ahead of you.”
“I’m already counting the days!” Laurel assured her. “How about you? Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”
“I’m looking forward to spending three long months at home. Just think—no classes, no grades, and no exams. Oh, I’m still hoping to find a job somewhere in town. But mostly I want to paint. I’ve got a million ideas that I simply haven’t had the time to follow up on, thanks to that weekly paper in English Lit and those problem sets in Calculus and everything else that’s been keeping me too busy to breathe all semester.”
The girls had just hung up when Cassie’s father poked his head in the doorway.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were in here.”
“That’s okay. I’ve finished talking on the phone.”
“I wanted to get a book.”
“Help yourself. We’ve got thousands.”
Dr. Davis scanned the shelves, his head bent to one side as he read the titles on the books’ spines.
“Who called?” he asked pleasantly.
“Laurel.”
“How is she? Is she enjoying spring break?”
“She’s so focused on her summer that she’s barely thinking about spring.” Dragging herself off the couch and perching on the thickly padded arm, Cassie continued, “Laurel’s got this crazy plan. Believe it or not, she’s going to Alaska this summer.”
“Really?” Dr. Davis sat down at his desk, putting the book he’d retrieved from the shelf off to one side. He fixed his gaze on Cassie, pressing the tips of his fingers together to form an inverted V.
“There’s some research project one of the professors at the university is running. I think he’s a biologist.”
“Actually, he’s an ecologist.”
It took a moment for the meaning of her father’s words to register. “You mean you’ve heard about this project?”
“Certainly. Ethan Wells and I have been friends for years. We met when we both served on the university’s undergraduate admissions committee.” He paused for a moment before adding, “As a matter of fact, he called me just last week.”
“Really?” Cassie was barely listening. She was much less interested in hearing about her father’s friends at the university than she was in studying the outline of his silhouette, wondering how she could capture on canvas the odd shadows cast by the late-afternoon light.
“It was you he wanted to talk about.”
“Me?” Cassie’s interest was suddenly piqued. “Why on earth would some science professor I’ve never even met want to talk to me?”
“He remembered a conversation he and I had about you last spring. It was back when you were trying to decide whether to go away to college or to stay right here in Mountainville.”
Cassie squirmed uncomfortably.
“Ethan told me he remembered my saying I was concerned about your reluctance to try new things,” Lawrence Davis went on.
“Daddy,” Cassie protested, feeling her cheeks redden, “do you have to go around telling our personal business to total strangers?”
“Ethan’s not a stranger,” Dr. Davis said gently. “He’s a friend.”
Cassie was growing more and more uneasy. She wasn’t sure where all this was leading ... but the gnawing feeling in her stomach told her there was an excellent chance it would turn out to be a place she wouldn’t be pleased about.
“Go on,” she urged, swallowing hard.
“I’ll cut to the chase. Cassie, Dr. Wells wants you to be part of his research team this summer.”
It was Cassie who finally broke the long, heavy silence that followed Professor Davis’s announcement.
“You’re joking, right? You’re just trying to scare me into taking school more seriously. Or ... or maybe into thinking about transferring to another college. Or—”
“I’m not joking, Cassie. This is a wonderful opportunity. Your mother and I have made a mistake in babying you. Of course, we love having you here all the time, but in the long run we’re not doing you much of a service. You’ve never been off on your own, learning to take care of yourself. It’s high time you spread your wings a little. And this is the perfect way.”
“But—but I don’t know anything about biology!” Cassie’s mind raced as she struggled to come up with a convincing argument why this plan of her father’s was absurd. “And Alaska’s so far away. And—and—”
“Ethan and I discussed all that. He understands that you’re not a budding scientist. He’s willing to teach you whatever you need to know. What’s even more valuable
to him are your other traits. He knows you’re conscientious and responsible and hardworking....”
For the second time in the past few minutes, Cassie stopped listening. She was off in another world. But this time, it wasn’t one of colors and shapes. It was one of mosquitoes and bears, wet feet and aching muscles. She pictured herself in an untamed wilderness, thousands of miles away from home. She saw a girl who was tired, lonely, uncomfortable, and more than a little scared.
She was tempted to protest, to rack her brain until she came up with a way of getting her father to change his mind. But the determination in his voice told her it was no use. And if she knew anything at all about her mother, she could be certain she felt exactly the same way.
The decision had been made ... and there was no going back. Like it or not, she was going to Alaska. Somehow, even knowing that her best friend was going with her wasn’t enough to keep a hard knot from forming in the pit of her stomach—a knot Cassie suspected wouldn’t go away until after she’d come back home to Mountainville at the end of the summer.
Chapter Three
“Dr. Ethan Wells. Department of Biology.”
Mariah Burke read the words on the plaque aloud, her voice dripping with disdain even though there was no one around to hear. In fact, as she stood outside the door at the end of an undistinguished pale gray cinder-block hallway in the deserted basement of the Life Sciences building, her books balanced casually on one hip, she could have been the only creature in the world.
The only living creature, at least. Lining the corridor were large glass cases displaying endless varieties of insects, butterflies, and reptiles—all of them dead. Mariah had barely given them a glance as she’d come down the hall, her reluctance about this mission reflected in the slowness of her pace.
Yes, this was the place. She hesitated a moment longer. Then, letting out a sigh, she rapped on the door.
Alaska Adventure Page 2
