Laurel frowned. “Great. The two of them take off, leaving us to do the cleaning up—”
“I don’t mind,” Russ insisted. “I’d rather do all the work than have Trip and Mariah hanging around, making our lives more difficult.” He sighed. “And we’ve still got four weeks left. Four long weeks,” Shaking his head, he began picking up plates.
Laurel bent down to help him clean up. She instantly became absorbed in retrieving bits of paper from the ground. It wasn’t until she stood up, her hands full, that she noticed that her best friend was standing a few feet away, simply staring at her. And the look in Cassie’s eyes was anything but friendly.
Chapter Eleven
Over the next few days, Laurel tried to convince herself she was simply imagining Cassie’s coldness. With the team breaking up into pairs every day, she and Russ working together at Dr. Wells’s suggestion, she saw little of her during the day. In the evening, when Cassie and her partner, Mariah, returned, they were all too busy working independently for there to be much interaction. By the time they finished with the day’s work and retreated to their bedrooms, Laurel, like everyone else, was too exhausted to talk.
So she was particularly looking forward to the group’s next foray out into the field together. She hoped that working side by side with Cassie once again would give her a chance to get a reading on her mood.
“Today I’d like you to take the canoes out to that little island at the far end of the lake,” Dr. Wells told them early one morning at the end of the third week. They were gathered outside the cabin, near a decaying wooden picnic table that often served as a makeshift lab in the evenings. “You know what to do when you get out there: use the fish traps and the seines to get fish samples, use the sweep nets to collects insects, gather botanical specimens ... and I think it’s time we started setting animal traps.”
“Oh, no!” Cassie cried. “That’s so mean!”
“There’s nothing mean about these.” Like a salesman launching into a demonstration, Dr. Wells reached under the table and pulled out a big boxlike contraption, setting it on the picnic table.
“Have-a-heart traps,” said Russ.
“Have a what?” asked Marian.
“These are live traps,” said Dr. Wells. “That means they trap animals without killing them.”
“We’ll let them go afterward, right?” Cassie asked anxiously.
“We certainly will. All we want to do is find out what’s living in the woods surrounding the lake—and the island in the middle of it. Here, I’ll show you how the traps work. First, you put a mixture of peanut butter and rolled oats on the trigger, like this. Then you find a sheltered place in the brush to put the trap. After you’ve left the area, sooner or later some small animal will happen by and jump at the chance for a free lunch. The next thing he knows, he’s inside this cage ... and we’ve got our specimen to study.”
“What do you expect to find around here?” asked Trip.
“Marmots, tree-climbing squirrels, maybe a snow-shoe hare—”
“This is so exciting!” Laurel said. “I can’t wait to get a close look at all those different types of animals.”
“The downside of these traps,” Dr. Wells went on, “is that every once in a while you get an animal who becomes trap happy. He learns he can get food simply by spending the night in a trap. Once he figures out what a good deal that is, he might spring the trap before other animals are caught.”
“The secret is to keep the traps moving,” said Russ. “Instead of setting them in the same area day after day, pick out different areas.”
“I’ll start loading them into the canoes,” Laurel offered. She picked one up and started heading down to the lake, the others following not far behind.
The routine of packing up the canoes was familiar by now. Expertly Laurel loaded in the trap along with all the usual gear. There were also provisions for the day. Today would be a particularly long day, since the island was close to two miles away. They’d brought along enough food to keep all five of them fortified for a good twelve hours.
‘This canoe’s all set,” Laurel finally said. Smiling, she turned to Cassie. “Are you ready?”
Her smile faded when she noticed how Cassie stiffened.
“No thanks, Laurel. Russ and I have already agreed to go together today.”
“Oh. Okay.” Laurel blinked in confusion. “How about you, Mariah? Want to share?”
“I’m always a willing partner,” Trip offered.
“Oh, no,” Mariah protested. “If you two pair off, that makes me odd one out. There’s no way I’m going out in one of those things alone. I’ll go with Laurel.”
As she stepped into her boat and Trip into his, Laurel noticed that Cassie had a smug look on her face.
It was another perfect day, the lemon-colored sun slowly making its way across the southern sky, cloudless and a soft shade of grayish blue. For some time now Laurel had been thinking of this place as home. She felt she belonged here. When she was out on the water, she felt united with her magnificent surroundings. She was swathed in a sense of peace unlike any she could remember having experienced before.
They had pushed off from shore and begun paddling across the lake when Trip called, “Hey, Laurel. I’ve got a proposition for you.”
Behind her, Mariah muttered, “What now?”
“A proposition?” She was instantly suspicious, “What kind of proposition?”
“Let’s agree to call a truce for today.”
Laurel’s eyebrows shot up. Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “I hadn’t realized we were in the midst of a battle.”
“I’m only trying to make it easier—”
“Okay, okay. You’re right. And I think it’s a wonderful idea. For the sake of science—not to mention group harmony—today we’ll play it straight. You’ll promise not to come on to me—”
“And you’ll promise to treat me like a colleague, rather than a party boy.”
Laurel laughed. “It’s a deal.”
They had just reached the island when Trip came up to her. “I need a partner for seining. What do you say?”
“Sure,” she replied with a shrug.
“I’ll get in the water, since I’ve got the footwear for it. Even with those rubber shoes of yours, you’ll be much better off staying on shore.”
She took hold of the brown handle he handed her, one end of the heavy fish net that reminded her of the net from a tennis court. Seines were difficult to use. Because they were so large and heavy, dragging them through shallow water to catch small fish was hard work. Still, using one enabled the team to get specimens too small to be caught in the fish traps and to collect fish of all sizes on the spot rather than waiting a day or two to catch them in the traps.
“So tell me,” Trip said as they pulled the net through the water, struggling to move as quickly as possible without tripping over a submerged branch. “How did a girl like you first get interested in the wonderful world of creepy crawly things?”
“To tell you the truth, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t interested in the natural world,” Laurel replied sincerely. “Even when I was really little and all the other girls were playing hopscotch at the playground, I’d be wandering around the grass, looking for interesting bugs.”
“I bet that made you popular,” Trip said sarcastically.
“You’re right. No one could understand why I wasn’t into the same things as everybody else. Least of all my parents. My mother is a great believer in—”
She never did finish her sentence. All of a sudden, something large and unyielding pushed against her. The ground beneath her feet was rocky and uneven, and she was so close to the water’s edge.... Before Laurel understood what was happening, she was knee-deep in lake water.
“I’m so sorry!” someone behind her cried.
Leaping out of the water and back onto the shore, Laurel turned around angrily.
“You pushed me in!” she accused Cassie, who was st
anding a few feet away, holding a sweep net.
“I did not!” Cassie returned. “It was an accident— honest! I saw this really cool-looking butterfly, and I started running after it—”
“It didn’t look like much of an accident to me,” Trip commented. From the mischievous grin on his face, it was impossible for Laurel to tell whether he was telling the truth—or trying to stir up a little trouble, just for his own enjoyment.
“Great,” Laurel grumbled. “Now I’m going to have to walk around with wet feet all day—”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Cassie insisted.
“It was so careless of you—”
“Maybe if you’d been paying attention to what you were doing, instead of telling Trip the story of your life....”
Cassie’s angry words affected Laurel more strongly than the sensation of sopping wet socks over cold, damp feet. She simply stared.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Cassie insisted. “And if you think I’m going to go around feeling guilty all day, you’re wrong.”
Sticking her chin up in the air, she said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have important work to do.”
“What’s her problem?” Trip muttered after she’d stalked off.
Laurel let out a deep sigh. “I wish I knew.”
Trip picked up her end of the seine and handed it to her. “Come on, Laurel. We’ve got important work to do, too.”
She gazed after her friend only a moment longer before taking the end of the net and once again taking her place by the edge of the lake.
* * * *
After coming in from the long day on the lake, Cassie made a beeline for the tool shed, where the single metal shower stall used by all six members of the research team, as well as the Torvolds, was housed. She’d hoped the hot water would melt away some of her bad feelings. Yet as she towel dried her headful of red curls, she was aware that there was as much tightness in her neck and shoulders as there’d been all day.
She came back to her room, hoping this would turn out to be one of the rare times she actually managed to be by herself. But it was only minutes before Laurel wandered in, standing awkwardly in the doorway as if she were waiting for something. Cassie pretended to be absorbed in folding the clothes she’d worn that day.
“You certainly seemed to have fun today,” she finally said, her tone crisp.
“Yes, it was fun,” Laurel replied. “At least, after my feet dried off.”
Cassie kept her eyes down. “I told you, Laurel. It was an accident*.”
“Cassie, what’s going on with you?” Laurel demanded.
“Nothing. I’m absolutely fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
Suddenly Cassie whirled around. “Just leave me alone, will you?”
Laurel took a few steps backward. The expression on her face was one of complete surprise—and confusion. But Cassie barely took the time to look. She was too busy rushing out the cabin, desperate to get away. As she dashed toward the door, she noticed her backpack on the couch. Suspecting she’d want to stay away for a long time, she grabbed it.
How could she! Cassie was thinking as she raced down the stairs, into the woods. I saw what she was doing. Making a play for Trip, flirting with him all over the place.... How could she be so insensitive? I never in a million years thought my best friend would go out of her way to steal a boy away from me! And accusing me of having pushed her into the lake on purpose, right in front of him....
Her heart ached so badly it felt as if it would burn right through her chest. She ran and ran, taking care not to trip over the gnarled roots of trees or to get her foot caught in the clumps of tall grasses. She nearly slipped on a rock, but caught hold of the low-hanging branch of a tree just in time. By now, the tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. How could she?
Never before had Cassie felt so strongly about a boy.
Sure, she’d had her share of crushes. And she’d had a few boyfriends along the way—nothing serious, but certainly enough to keep her from feeling as if she were missing out on the romantic scene most of the other girls in her high school had been so involved in. In college, she had yet to find anyone special. There’d been a few movie dates, quite a few long conversations over coffee at the Student Center, an intense two-week infatuation with her first-semester English professor....
But nothing like this. These feelings, the way her heart fluttered whenever she even thought about Trip, were new. Cassie found it impossible to let more than a few minutes go by without thinking about him. She felt as if they were linked somehow, in some deep, spiritual way that made them destined to be together. It had to be love. It had to be the real thing.
Of course, Trip had yet to make any acknowledgment of their connection. As a matter of fact, Cassie thought morosely as she stopped at the edge of the lake to catch her breath, he barely seemed to notice that she existed. But that was why it was so important that the two of them have time—time, without any distractions. Distractions like Laurel. If only Trip had the chance to get to know me, Cassie told herself. If only he’d step back and see me for what I really am.
She sank to the ground, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. As she did, she noticed how beautiful it was out here by the lake. She realized she’d been so wrapped up in getting through her busy days that she hadn’t been taking enough time to notice.
Suddenly she caught sight of a clump of water lilies, bobbing lazily in the lake a few yards ahead. Curious, she got up and wandered over to get a better look.
Resting on top of the lake, amidst large, flat, circular leaves, were huge yellow blossoms, so colorful and so perfectly formed that they barely looked real. Their petals curved upward to create a ball. Cassie had never seen such a dramatic flower.
Before she’d even realized what she was doing, she’d unzipped her backpack and was scrounging around for a pad of paper and a drawing pencil. It was only the third or fourth time she’d had a chance to draw since she’d gotten to Alaska. She settled in comfortably on the bank, choosing an angle at which the sun illuminated the flowers in just the right way. Without wasting a single moment, she bent her head over the pad and began to sketch.
As she did, her ruminations about Trip and Laurel and even herself faded away. The only thing that existed was the display of exotic flowers Mother Nature had so generously laid out before her. She was completely absorbed in getting the curve of this line just right, capturing the exact way in which that shadow sloped over the leaf and then changed its angle when it hit the rough surface of the lake.
Cassie finally became aware that somewhere along the line, her neck had begun to ache. But the tightness in her muscles was different than before. This time it was from physical strain—not emotional. She stretched, meanwhile looking around. She had no sense of how much time had passed. It could have been ten minutes—or it could have been two hours. She simply didn’t know.
In fact, at that moment there were only two things she felt completely certain of. One was that she’d drawn a detailed black-and-white sketch of the water lilies that truly captured their beauty, bringing them to life on the flat white page with almost as much drama as they possessed in real life.
The other was that she felt totally refreshed. Her mind had been cleared in a way that could only come about by having created something. Standing up, noting that the stiffness of her muscles indicated she’d been working for quite a long time, Cassie realized that the different parts of her life were suddenly in much better perspective.
She was still angry at Laurel, And her heart ached when she thought about Trip and the pointed way he’d ignored her all day. Yet, at the same time, she understood that there were other elements in her life as well. She had drawing and painting, which she loved more than anything else. And that, no one could ever take away from her.
She flipped over the page of her sketchbook, while looking around with a critical eye. Her gaze finally lit upon a clump of wildflowers. The purple lupine stood proud
and strong, their delicate petals forming a graceful silhouette. Picking up her pencil, she started to draw.
* * * *
It wasn’t until Cassie felt someone tap her lightly on her shoulder that she realized she wasn’t alone. She turned around abruptly and found Dr. Wells standing behind her.
“Oh, hello, Dr. Wells,” she said breathlessly. “I didn’t hear you—”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He stooped down and peered over her shoulder. “What have you got there?”
“Oh, nothing.” Quickly Cassie pulled her sketch pad up to her chest. She could feel her cheeks turning red.
“If it’s nothing,” Dr. Wells asked, his expression one of amusement, “then why are you being so secretive?”
“Well . , . they’re just drawings.”
“Drawings?”
“Just some sketches I’ve done up here. Flowers, mostly. A few of animals.” Shyly, she added, “I don’t know if they’re any good or not.”
“Would you mind if I took a look?”
Cassie hesitated. She didn’t want to show them to anybody ... especially Dr. Wells. Still, she didn’t see how she could turn him down without looking silly.
Without a word she handed him her sketch pad. She stared off into the distance as he turned the pages, pretending to be lost in a daydream. She told herself she didn’t care what he thought. Still, her heart was pounding.
He’ll probably hand it back to me with a polite, “Very nice,” she told herself.
So she was surprised to hear him say, “My goodness, Cassie, I had no idea you were such an accomplished artist!”
She looked over at him, astonished.
“Your father mentioned you were interested in drawing and painting,” he continued, “but he never let on that you were so talented.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled. Then, anxious to break the silence that followed as he went back to the beginning of the sketchbook for a second look at some of the earlier drawings she’d done, she added, “I’m certainly getting enough inspiration. So many of the plants and flowers are unusual varieties, unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
Alaska Adventure Page 10
