Alaska Adventure

by Cynthia Baxter

  They stopped frequently, with Russ helping Mariah slide off Trip’s back with only a minimum of jostling. While they clearly needed the breaks, the trip back to the car seemed endless.

  Once they were in the Jeep, with Mariah settled into the seat next to the driver, Russ said, “Okay. Now we’ve made it this far. Our next step is to get Mariah to a doctor.”

  “How are we ever going to find a doctor?” Cassie demanded. “Have you forgotten that we’re in the middle of no place?”

  “I wish Dr. Wells were here,” Laurel said, more to herself than to anyone else. “He’s been coming to Alaska for years. He’d know where to take her. I wonder if there’s some way we could reach him by phone—”

  “Just take me back to the cabin,” Mariah insisted.

  “It’s probably just a sprain. I’m sure it’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

  She leaned forward, resting a little bit of her weight on her foot. As she did, she let out a loud yelp of pain.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “That ankle looks pretty bad.”

  Dr. Wells crouched down at the end of the couch, frowning. Mariah was lying stretched out across it with half a dozen pillows propping up her foot. Gingerly he touched the bruised spot on her skin, meanwhile glancing over to see her reaction. A look of agony crossed her face.

  “Maybe if I keep ice on it overnight ... ?” she suggested feebly.

  “This looks like something that’s going to require more than ice,” Dr. Wells replied. He glanced at his watch. “It’s still fairly early. Trip, Laurel, I’d like the two of you to take Mariah into Homer. It’s a bit of a drive, but there’s an excellent doctor there. I’ve dealt with Dr. Chase before—and I trust her completely. I’m confident Mariah will get the treatment she needs.”

  “All right,” Laurel agreed.

  “I’ll give you the address.” Dr. Wells stood up, glancing around the cabin. “Anybody have a pencil and paper?”

  “In my backpack,” Mariah volunteered. “It’s right over there, on the table.”

  Laurel retrieved the backpack and was about to hand it to her when Mariah said crossly, “Just look in the zippered compartment in front.”

  Sure enough, as Laurel unzipped the front pocket of the nylon bag, she saw a small notebook poking out. She reached inside and felt a pen at the bottom of the compartment.

  As she brought it out of the backpack, she froze. It was a size double-zero Rapidograph, a specialized drawing pen that made extremely fine lines. She just stared at it, feeling the blood throbbing at her temples.

  The marks made by this kind of pen were just like those on the unsigned note warning her to keep her nose out of the bear-poaching mystery.

  I must tell Russ! was the first thought that rushed into her mind. Mariah must be jealous. Maybe she assumes I’m simply trying to make myself look good, showing off in front of Dr. Wells. That would explain her anonymous letter.

  But a second, more cautious voice also insisted upon being heard.

  This is just circumstantial evidence, the second voice said. You still have no proof that Mariah sent that note. Just a suspicion....

  “Can’t you find it?” Mariah barked. “Here, give me that—”

  “No, I’ve got them.” Laurel handed the pen and pad to Dr. Wells, relieved that no one seemed to have noticed her odd reaction to what she’d discovered in Mariah’s backpack.

  “Here’s the address.” Dr. Wells was already jotting it down. He handed it to Laurel. “Now are you sure you two can handle this?”

  “Of course,” Laurel replied. “Why not?”

  Dr. Wells looked at Trip sternly. “I don’t want any funny business from you. We’ve got a serious problem on our hands, and I need you to act responsibly. That means treating both girls with respect.”

  “Sure, Dr. Wells,” Trip assured him. “It’ll be fine.” Glancing over at Laurel, he added, “Laurel and I have come to an understanding. In fact, we’re becoming great friends.”

  All of a sudden Cassie stood up. Without a word, she stalked into the bedroom.

  * * * *

  “Cassie?” Laurel called softly, knocking on the open door as she rounded the corner into the girls’ bedroom. “Are you all right?”

  The red-haired girl, sprawled facedown across the bottom bunk, didn’t even glance up. Her voice muffled by her pillow, she replied, “You’re a fine one to ask.”

  “I don’t get it.” Gingerly Laurel lowered herself onto the edge of Mariah’s cot. “There’s clearly something wrong, but you don’t seem to want to talk about it—”

  “Oh, I’ll talk about it.” Cassie sat up abruptly. Her face was streaked with tears. “You’re an expert, Laurel.” She spat out her words. “You could give lessons. In fact, you could write an entire book on the subject.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I suppose you don’t even have to think about it. It just comes to you naturally.” In response to Laurel’s continued confusion, she added, “You certainly did a nice job of pulling that one off. Arranging things so that Dr. Wells would send you and Trip off to Homer together.”

  Slowly the meaning of Cassie’s words became clear. ‘Trip and me? I had nothing to do with that! It’s not my fault that Mariah—”

  “Come on, Laurel. Surely you’re not going to deny that you’ve been after Trip ever since we got up here.”

  “I do deny it!”

  “I’ve seen the way you come on to him. It’s as if you’ve zeroed in on him, making him your project for the summer. And you’re supposed to be my best friend!”

  “Cassie, I—”

  “You know how I feel about him. But does that stand in your way? Oh, no. Not for a minute. Instead you go right ahead and ... and throw yourself at him—”

  “I have absolutely no interest in Trip!” Laurel insisted. “If anything, I’m relieved that he and I seem to have finally reached an understanding. He keeps out of my way and I keep out of his. And when we do end up working together, he more or less behaves himself.”

  Cassie acted as if she hadn’t heard a word Laurel had said. “And now I see you flirting with Russ every chance you get! What is it with you, Laurel? Isn’t one boy enough for you? Or do you have some kind of compulsion to make every guy you come into contact with fall in love with you?”

  “Neither of them is in love with me!”

  “Oh, no? You mean you haven’t noticed the way Russ follows you around like a lovesick puppy dog?”

  “No, Cassie. I think you’re imagining—”

  “As for Trip, you’re certainly doing your best! At my expense, no less! Boy, Laurel. Some friend you turned out to be!”

  With that, Cassie jumped off the bed and stomped out of the room. Laurel stayed behind in the bedroom. Her ears were ringing. Was it possible there was any truth in the accusations her best friend had just made? She’d had her own suspicions about Russ, of course ... but she certainly hadn’t chased after him, the way Cassie was implying. As for Trip, she had absolutely no interest in him. She’d been sincere when she’d said she was happy simply to keep things between them as civil as possible.

  She stood up, staring out the small window at the rich greens of the woods surrounding the cabin. Some patches glowed in the sunlight, others were bathed in deep shadows. Usually she found the sight of the forest so comforting. Today, it did nothing to make her feel even the least bit better.

  She was dismayed over the possibility that she’d been giving Trip the wrong idea. And that she might be doing something that could hurt Russ. But what mattered to Laurel most was her friendship with Cassie. Now that she finally understood what was getting in their way, she only hoped it wasn’t too late to make up for the bad feelings that had sprung up between them.

  ****

  “Ow! Be careful, will you?” Marian cast Trip an ice-cold look as he helped her out of the Jeep. “Are you trying to torture me, or is it something that just comes to you naturally?”

  “Will you keep that s
tupid ice pack on your foot?” barked Trip. “Or are you trying to be difficult?”

  Laurel let out a sigh. The ride from the preserve down to Homer should have been a joy. The scenery, after all, had been spectacular as the three of them drove south along the coast of the Kenai Peninsula. The range of mountains across Cook Inlet in the west was still covered with snow all the way down to sea level. And poking up above the range from south to north were three monumental volcanoes, Augustine, Iliamna, and Redoubt. In fact, Mount Redoubt was still steaming from its last eruption.

  They even veered off the main road a few times to check out the small seaside village of Ninilchik that Dr. Wells had described. It was little more than a scattering of small buildings, rough wooded houses and a Russian-style church. The only sign of life was the salmon fishermen who lined the water’s edge, catching huge fish with apparent ease.

  As they stood watching, they suddenly caught sight of a bald eagle, swooping gracefully across the sky. Laurel was amazed at how powerful—and at the same time, how elegant—the bird was.

  “Now I appreciate why the eagle was chosen as America’s symbol,” Laurel observed.

  “Once upon a time,” said Trip, “bald eagles were found in every state in the union. Now, they’re endangered everywhere in the U.S. except Alaska.”

  When Kachemak Bay came into view, they’d pulled into a special parking area for sightseers. Trip and Laurel jumped out of the car and took turns taking each other’s picture beneath a wooden sign made of logs fastened together with rope, reading “Homer, Alaska: Halibut Fishing Capital of the World.” In the background was a gently sloping field of colorful wildflowers, leading down to a calm blue expanse of water. Running along the horizon across Kachemak Bay were craggy mountains, a mosaic of blue-gray rock, shimmering snow, and gigantic glaciers that stretched across huge valleys.

  Yet aside from a few brief moments when she and Trip had actually been able to relax and drink in their surroundings, Mariah had kept them on edge. She’d complained about everything. The car ride was too long, there were too many twists and turns in the road, the ice pack was too wet, the Jeep was too bumpy. And when she noticed her foot had turned blue, she let out a wail that was like something off the soundtrack of a horror movie.

  Now, in response to her complaint that he was handling her too roughly, Trip let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Torturing you is the most natural thing in the world, Mariah. Now, can you manage to hobble to the front door of the clinic? Or do I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you?”

  “Thanks, I’ll just crawl.”

  “I’ll help you, Mariah.” Laurel rushed to her side, holding out her arm for Mariah to hang on to. “It’s not far.”

  Mariah barely seemed to be listening. She was eyeing the clinic, a low, wooden building that even Laurel had to admit wasn’t exactly the kind of ultramodern medical center she’d been expecting. As a matter of fact, if it hadn’t been for the fading sign, “Lindsey Chase, M.D.,” next to the door, she never would have guessed this was the clinic Dr. Wells had spoken of so highly.

  Yet if there was one thing she’d already learned, it was that nothing in Alaska was the way it was in the rest of the country.

  “We’re almost there,” Laurel said encouragingly. “Just a few more steps—”

  “I can see that,” Mariah snapped.

  The inside of the office was as plain as the outside. The small waiting room was painted light green, furnished with a few wooden chairs. A receptionist sat behind a glass window, typing on a computer. The only noteworthy feature, in fact, was the collection of framed photographs hanging on the wall. One of them, Laurel noticed, was of Dr. Wells.

  “Look at this!” she cried. “I didn’t realize Dr. Wells and Dr. Chase were such good friends.”

  They waited only a few minutes before Dr. Chase came out. She was wearing a crisp white lab coat over a pair of jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. She was younger than Laurel had expected, with long straight brown hair, pretty features, and a warm smile.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she greeted them.

  “Ethan called a while ago and said I should keep an eye out for you.” Turning to Mariah, she said, “You must be the patient. Come on in to Room Two. It’s the first door on your right.”

  While Mariah was inside with the doctor, Laurel stood in front of the photographs, examining them.

  “I bet they’re more than friends,” she mused.

  “Hmmm?” Trip barely glanced up from the fishing magazine he’d picked up from the table and was perusing.

  “Dr. Wells and Dr. Chase. I bet they’re secretly in love.”

  Trip cast her a funny look. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless romantic?”

  Laurel could feel her cheeks turning red.

  “No, I like it,” he insisted. “It’s charming. It’s nice to know there’s somebody in there.”

  “Somebody in there?” she repeated, not understanding.

  “Somebody other than the dedicated scientist,” said Trip. “Someone with heart. Someone with soul. Someone who still believes—”

  “Excuse me,” the receptionist interrupted. She’d just come over to them, a clipboard in hand. “Have you filled out these forms for the patient?”

  It wasn’t long before Dr. Chase asked Laurel and Trip to come into her office.

  “From the looks of things, Marian’s turned her ankle and strained the ligaments pretty badly,” she said, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. “If that’s the case, she should be back to normal in anywhere from four days to a week.

  “However, just to be sure I took an X ray. A fine line showed up on one of the bones. There’s a slight possibility she’s suffered a hairline fracture, I’m nearly certain it’s nothing, but I’d like to have a colleague of mine, Dr. Ellis, take a look at it. I won’t be able to get hold of him until tomorrow. Is it possible for the three of you to stay in Homer overnight?”

  “Overnight?” Laurel repeated.

  “Of course, I’m assuming Dr. Wells will be willing to let you stay out,” Dr. Chase added, smiling. “I know how hard Ethan works his students, mainly because he’s so passionate about his work.” She became lost in thought for a few seconds, her eyes glowing and her cheeks turning pink.

  Laurel cast Trip a look that said, “I told you so.” Turning back to the doctor, she said, “We’ll need a place to stay.”

  “That’s no problem. There’s an inn just around the corner. The owner and I are good friends. I’ll give him a call and tell him you need a couple of rooms for tonight.”

  Laurel nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Chase.”

  “I’ve set Mariah up with a pair of crutches. It’s important that she stay off that foot. I’ve told her to keep it wrapped in the Ace bandage I’ve put on, and to keep it elevated. And keep her supplied with as much ice as possible.”

  Mariah appeared in the doorway, hobbling along on a pair of crutches. “You don’t seriously expect me to use these!”

  “Sounds like good old Mariah’s just fine,” breathed Trip.

  * * * *

  Waking up early the next morning, Laurel lay in bed for a long time, enjoying her pleasant surroundings. The room she was sharing with Marian at Homer Lodge was like something from another era. Pale yellow wallpaper sprigged with flowers complemented sheer white curtains that billowed in the breeze wafting through the open window. The room was sparsely furnished with twin beds, a dresser, and a sink. A rag rug, pastel shades of pink and yellow, was centered on the wooden floor.

  It was very restful, and part of her longed to stay there forever. But she was exhilarated by being in a new place. She’d loved being at the cabin, far away from all the trappings and pressures of civilization. Yet now that she was here in Homer, she was looking forward to doing a bit of sightseeing.

  Less than an hour later, she was doing just that. Mariah had begrudgingly stayed in bed, her foot elevated. Fortunately, the bookshelf in the lobby contained a few doz
en paperback novels. Laurel picked out three she thought might interest Mariah and brought them up to the room with Mariah’s breakfast.

  “I hate to say this,” Laurel said to Trip as they drove away from the lodge in the Jeep, “but it’s kind of a relief, leaving Mariah behind. I know we don’t have much time before Dr. Chase has that report on her X rays, but I’m anxious to see as much as we can.”

  “You don’t have to sell me,” Trip replied. “Well,” he said, “we might as well make the best of this. Let’s check this place out. See some of the sights of the greater metropolitan area, drive out to the spit and see what the fishermen are up to—”

  “Look! There’s a craft gallery,” Laurel said, pointing. “Would you mind pulling in there? I’d love to pick up something for Cassie.”

  “First stop, Ptarmigan Craft Gallery.” Trip had already stepped on the brake.

  The handmade treasures Laurel found in the small boutique were a surprising contrast to all the natural wonders she’d been soaking up since her arrival in Alaska. Here was the artwork of a few dozen of Alaska’s finest craftspeople. Some of the pieces could have been made anywhere: ceramic bowls glazed in pretty pastels, hand-painted silk scarves, boxes made of stained glass.

  Others were pure Alaska. She examined a display of leather bags trimmed with buttons made from caribou antlers, then perused original watercolors of Alaskan wildflowers. Pieces of soapstone had been carved into polar bears and seals. On a variety of items, from pocketbooks to note cards to hollowed-out gourds, were Native American designs, the distinctive renderings of such tribes as the Haida, the Tlingit, and the Kwakiutl. There were so many lovely pieces, so much to admire. Yet nothing seemed quite right for Cassie.

  And then a glass case containing silver jewelry caught her eye. Laurel bent over it, studying the earrings, bracelets, and necklaces whose designs incorporated stylized versions of native animals: eagles, ravens, frogs, bears.