by Rhett DeVane
Evelyn fluttered her eyelashes like a schoolgirl. Was she flirting with her husband?
“Where are Bobby and Leigh?” Holston asked.
Evelyn tore her gaze from her husband. “They’ll meet us at the table. The doctor gave Leigh something real mild for nausea.”
A three-piece ensemble of piano, drums, and guitar played for a handful of dancers. Holston led me on to the floor, and we slipped easily into the samba beat. We danced together like we made love: teasing, approaching and retreating, then blending together into the rhythm. Cruise photographers circled through the crowd snapping pictures of couples and groups. That evening, we coined the phrase Cheesy Photo Opportunity, or CPO.
Bobby and Leigh appeared a few minutes after we were seated for dinner.
“You feeling better?” Evelyn asked.
Leigh waved the wine steward away from her glass. “Much better, thank you. The doctor gave me some freshly ground ginger root for the nausea.”
“Why didn’t he give you something stronger than that?” Piddie asked.
Bobby and Leigh exchanged meaningful glances. “You want to tell them—or shall I?” Bobby asked.
“Lord help us all!” Piddie clutched her chest with one hand. “Last time you two made an announcement it damn near gave me a heart attack!”
Leigh smiled. “It seems as if the motion of the boat wasn’t entirely responsible for my sickness.”
We all stared in silence.
“Umm…the doctor had to test me before I could get any strong medication for sea sickness. As it turns out, I’m pregnant.”
The announcement sent ripples of excitement around the table.
“This is outstanding!” Holston said. “And, what a wonderful place to celebrate!”
Excerpt from Max the Madhatter’s notebook, April 19,1957:
I like surprises. I really do. Well, not the kind like when I have one of my spells in front of folks. It scares them. Scares me, too. Nurse Marion bought a box of fancy chocolates to share after Valentine’s Day last year. With one bite, I found a creamy rich filling flavored with something exotic. Each one I tried was different. They looked so innocent on the outside, but the most delicious surprise waited inside.
Chapter Twenty-five
MENDENHALL GLACIER
Though the sun rose at 3:30 AM, we didn’t reach Juneau, our first port of call, until 1:00 PM. Cloudless, robin’s egg blue skies greeted us as we stood on the viewing deck observing the pilot’s careful maneuvers into port. The seafront was awash with a flurry of activity. Floatplanes soared overhead and smaller departing fishing vessels crisscrossed our wake. Towering forested mountains loomed behind the strips of level land where Juneau spread out along the shores on either side of the Inside Passage. The Regal Queen’s sister ship was moored at the dock behind the space reserved for our boat.
Bobby leaned over the rail. “I’d sure hate to know I had to park this baby.”
We watched in fascination as our boat slowly paralleled Juneau’s Steamship Dock. The engines on the sides of the ship kicked on, and the Regal Queen inched sideways until she was aligned perfectly with the space provided. Massive cables were deployed fore and aft. When the ship was secured, the metal gangway was lowered and fixed into position.
“Where’s everyone off to today?” Evelyn asked. “Joe and I are going to ride the chair lift to the top of the mountain, then shop till we drop when we come back to town.
Joe smirked and shook his head, then smiled brightly when Evelyn turned his way.
“Piddie and I are going on a nature-boat tour. We’re supposed to be on the look out for seals and whales,” Jake said.
Piddie’s blue eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to see a whale—other than Elvina Houston in a bathing suit.”
Bobby reached over and grabbed his wife’s hand. “Leigh’s a little tired today, so we’re going to the museum, and maybe hit a few of the stores.”
Holston rested his arm across my shoulders. “I guess that leaves us to be the adventurous fools. We’re ice hiking on the Mendenhall glacier!”
“Well, ain’t that somethin’! Okay—” Piddie fussed with her purse and wind jacket. “We’ll all meet up at the salmon bake this evening. Let’s go, Jake. I don’t want to miss our boat.”
Since our excursion wasn’t scheduled to leave until 2:00 PM, Holston and I visited a few shops. Three cruise ships were docked, and the Juneau streets were teaming with credit card-toting tourists. Eager to support the local economy, we bought embroidered sweatshirts for ourselves, as well as souvenirs for Stephanie, Jillie, and Margie, and John. We located the Juneau Police Department, where I exchanged Tallahassee and Chattahoochee police departments’ arm patch badges for Juneau Police Department patches for Chris, Kelly, Kathy, and Rich.
At 2:00, we met the Alaskan Wilderness Excursions van near the dock. Along with the ship’s doctor and cruise entertainment director, Holston and I were the other two brave souls heading for the glacier. The hike was a recent addition to the Queen Lines’ long list of excursion choices. Dr. Tom and Jane were going along to rate the trip for time constraints and level of required fitness.
The van deposited us at the outfitter’s headquarters, where we were fitted with bright red Gore-Tex wind jackets and pants, grinders for clamping rescue ropes in the advent of a mishap, mid-calf waterproof boots, and nylon girders over the boots.
“Make sure you pee before you get all this on!” I warned Holston as the outfitter cinched the grinder strap around my waist. I looked like the Pillsbury doughboy with an L.L. Bean fixation.
We were each given an ice ax and a set of crampons to clamp on the sole of the boots when we reached the glacier. After posing for a CPO, this time with our disposable water-resistant camera, we boarded the van for Juneau International Airport.
The helicopter rested on an asphalt pad at the far end of the landing strip. Long canals of water stretching the length of the paved runway provided space for the arriving and departing floatplanes. Near the terminal, an Alaskan Airlines jet taxied toward the buildings.
“Don’t hit the side of the ’copter with these shoes,” the bearded outfitter explained. “These boots are made of space-age material, and they’re actually harder than the shell of the ’copter. We don’t want any new dents today, okay?” He flashed us a smile that read: maybe this group will be bright enough to follow instructions.
We strapped into the seats, and the pilot handed us headsets with voice-activated microphones to use while in flight. The engine droned, and we lifted straight up and away from the landing pad.
Initially, our course followed a small river as it snaked away from the city. The terrain changed quickly to the blinding white of the Alaskan ice fields, broken only by the surrounding brownish-gray rock peaks.
“There’s a mountain goat and her kid.” The pilot pointed to a sheer rock facing. “We don’t buzz too close this time of year. Most of them have their young with them, and we try not to upset them with the noise.”
The ’copter swung around to face our destination, the Mendenhall Glacier. Below, a small camp dotted with waving red flags and two guides awaited our arrival. The pilot guided the helicopter gently to rest on the ice, and waited until we walked away before lifting off for his return to Juneau.
“Okay! Hello! My name is Ray and this is my buddy, Chip. We’ll be your guides today!” Ray bobbed his curly head. “Time for a little in-service training before we do the ice!”
Great. We’d pulled Bevis and Butthead for tour guides.
“First thing! Your crampons.” Ray slipped the steel shoe-shaped forms on to the sole of his boots. “These spikes on the bottom will keep you from sliding and falling down on the ice.”
The crampons reminded me of my first pair of roller skates in the late ’50s. I would wear my Red Ball sneakers and strap the skates on around the shoes, and hurtle myself into a skinned knee in no time flat. I still have the scar from the time I got the bright idea to skate down Thrill Hill. Be
lieve me, it’s much safer in a car.
Chip demonstrated the correct way to hold an ice ax so that it could double as a walking stick and a brake in case of a fall. We walked around in a circle a few times to learn the proper way to maneuver on solid ice. “Don’t roll the foot from heel to toe like you normally do on land. Stomp your foot down flat with each step so that the spikes on the crampon can bite into the ice.”
Walking in the awkward footgear, I felt like I was high stepping with the FSU Marching Band at halftime. Chip led the small procession with Ray bringing up the rear. Both guides carried coiled ropes and extra clamps for emergency rescue use. Ray and Chip took turns amusing us with an informative commentary on the history and geology of the glacier.
Holston waved. “Come a little closer, Hattie.” The gaping blue slit though the ice was 200-300 feet deep with a frigid whitewater stream gushing at its base.
“I can see it just fine from here, thanks.”
Holston zoomed in on the crevasse with the camcorder for a few frames, then swung the camera to face me. “And….here’s Hattie Davis, a good quarter mile back from the edge.”
I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue. Everyone’s a freakin’ comedian.
After crossing the crevasse at the narrowest point, we hiked for another quarter of a mile to a fifteen-foot vertical wall of ice.
“Who feels like trying their hand at ice climbing?” Ray called.
Every great expedition needs a camera operator; someone to stay at the base of the hill and record the adventurous ascent.
“I’ll take the camcorder,” I said.
I’m not a coward. Yellow is not my base color. Since the time in sixth grade when I shot up five inches in height in three months, I have had no internal gyroscope. Thin air can trip me up, if it gets in my way. I’d learned to forgo any trial involving the need for balance.
Coached by Ray and Chip, Holston borrowed my ice ax, and used the pick ends to grab the ice above him and pull his weight up the wall. Since the crampons had spikes on the toes, he kicked the tips of the boots into the ice as if he were ascending stairs. When he reached the top, the entire group waved to my camera from their vantage point above.
Ray descended first, demonstrating how to balance against the wall using the ice ax and the sides of the boot crampons to aid in winding downward. When we were once again on the same level, Ray offered each of us a nut and granola bar and a bottle of spring water. After a brief break, we hiked back toward the helicopter landing site. Ray and Chip chatted easily as they walked, oblivious to the two Florida lowlanders heaving for breath in their wake. We had hiked for less than two miles by the time we reached the flags surrounding the camp—the equivalent effort of a five-mile land hike. It was all that dang marching.
Holston motioned to my backpack. “Let me have the camera.” He handed the camcorder to Chip and showed him how to operate the controls.
“Okay!” He put his arms around my waist. “Smile for the folks back home.”
I mustered a weary smile and my best parade wave. “Hi, everybody!”
Holston grappled in the pocket of his wind jacket and pulled out a small velvet box. He knelt in front of me.
I thought the altitude had finally gotten to him. “What’re you doing?”
“Hattie Davis,” he said, dramatically, “would you do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife?”
There’s a tilt mechanism in a person’s mind that zorks out at times of stress, even the good, giggly kind. My mind drifted into a petit mal, Sound-of-Music dream state. I was Julie Andrews, blue chiffon swirling around my slim body, gazing raptly into Christopher Plummer’s eyes. The accompanying tune played in my head—something about how I must’ve had a wretched childhood and miserable youth. But I must’ve done something good, because here you are, standing there, loving me. The orchestra music swelled in the background.
I snapped to reality. Holston was still kneeling at my feet, holding a diamond engagement ring like an offering to the revered goddess of the glacier, a rapt expression on his handsome face.
“Yeah…I mean yes!”
I stripped the heavy glove off and Holston slipped the golden ring onto my finger. The icy shimmer of the two-carat diamond rivaled the glacial blue ice at my feet.
“Unbelievable,” I mumbled.
“Yes, you are that,” Holston said as he rose and scooped me up. In the bulky Gore-Tex wind suits, we were Mr. and Mrs. Doughboy in love.
A faded orange former school bus delivered us to the Native Alaskan salmon bake. Nestled in a small clearing in the woods, the cookout site resembled a festive traveling circus with blue-striped tents. Two long baking racks over a smoldering alder wood fire pit were tended by several aproned Alaskans keeping watchful eyes over rows of cooking chicken, ribs, and salmon filets. One wooden table contained an assortment of salads and freshly baked cornbread and muffins. A second table supported platters heaped with the smoked poultry, meat, and fish, and large tins of baked barbecued beans. A side table held an array of soft drinks, iced tea, and freshly brewed coffee.
After serving our platters, Holston and I settled on to a section of the bench surrounding an octagonal picnic table cloaked in a red and white cloth.
Jake smirked. “About time you two dragged in! We were beginning to think you’d taken a detour by the staterooms.”
“I hope your day was as good as ours,” Piddie grinned, her face still red from the wind. “We saw a whole herd of humpback whales in Auke Bay! With babies! I almost wet my Depends!”
Evelyn shook her head. “Pod, Mama. A group of whales is called a pod.”
“Pods are where peas live. Jake and I saw a herd! We saw harbor seals, too! Even spotted an Alaskan black bear along the shoreline of a cove comin’ back in!” Piddie wiped the baked bean sauce from her mouth. “That captain was so nice. He settled me on a cushioned chair on the back of the boat. I got a good view of everything.”
Jake chuckled. “He got Piddie’s cathead biscuit recipe. He didn’t come out so bad.”
“Look here what my Joe bought for me.” Evelyn swept her hand in a circle for everyone to admire her new inlaid opal ring. “He’s the sweetest man!”
“Wow, that’s beautiful, Evelyn.” I studied the ring up close. “You know, opal’s my birthstone, but I’ve never seen a ring like this before. I wish we had more time here to see all of the shops.”
Joe smirked. “We pretty much covered it for everyone, Hattie.”
Leigh pointed to my ring finger. “Looks like you found a souvenir somewhere, too.”
I blushed slightly. “Oh…this…”
Piddie grabbed my hand and leaned in close. “Diamond as big as the Rock of Gibo-bo and she says, oh…this!” Her eyes twinkled. “Well…give it up. We seem to be on a roll with the announcements in this family.”
“Hattie has agreed to be my wife,” Holston said.
Piddie clapped her hands. “Lordy mercy! I prayed to sweet Jesus this was going to happen! Whooo-eee! I can die a happy woman!”
I smiled at my ancient aunt in her yellow L.L.Bean anorak and Polarfleece hat. “Not anytime soon, I hope.”
“Especially not until I finish my Alaskan cruise. Anyway, I got just a few more years left yet ‘til I get my 100-year official birthday card from the Pres-e-dent. I ain’t leavin’ the earth without that.”
Warm You to Your Toes Hot Chocolate Soufflé
Ingredients: 2 Tbsp butter, ½ oz semi-sweet chocolate, 2 Tbsp flour, ¼ cup sugar, ¼ tsp salt, 2 eggs (separate yolks and whites), ¾ cup milk.
Melt butter in a saucepan and gently mix in flour and salt. Stir in the milk until smooth and thick. Add melted chocolate, sugar, and egg yolks, lightly beaten. Last, fold in the egg whites, beaten dry. Bake in individual soufflé cups at 350º for 30 to 40 minutes. Serve hot with whipped cream flavored with vanilla.
Chapter Twenty-six
SKAGWAY ADVENTURE
Giorgio, the Italian waiter assigned to our dining room table, peeked arou
nd the side of the breakfast buffet. He picked Aunt Piddie from the group and stood behind her chair. “You don’t lave me anymore?” He pronounced each word carefully with a thick Italian accent.
Piddie patted him on the hand. “Well! If it isn’t my favorite little Eye-talian boy! What’cha doin’ up here?”
His creamy Mediterranean skin made his smile appear dazzling white. “Sometimes, I work other places on the Queen, but my favorite is your table.”
Piddie rolled her eyes. “Oh, you do go on.”
“You weren’t at dinner last night,” he scolded. “I was lonely.”
“Oh, we were all at the salmon bake, honey. Don’t take it to heart, now.”
“You will be at dinner tonight, okay? I have something special planned for you, yes?”
Piddie grinned. “We’ll be there with bells on!”
“You going off the ship today?” Giorgio asked, glancing around the table at the rest of the family.
Piddie pointed to the brochure on the table. “Jake, Evelyn, Joe, and I are taking that train ride up the hill. The other younguns are takin’ a hike in the woods.”
Giorgio shook his head. “Okay. You be careful. I see you at dinner tonight.”
“Oh-wee!” Piddie said as she drowned a stack of French toast with syrup. “I could take him home with me!”
Evelyn’s drew her mouth into a thin line. “Now, Mama! Don’t be silly. What would you possibly do with him?”
Piddie tapped a red nail on her chin. “Tell Elvina Houston I’d taken on a lover.”
“You beat all, Mama.” Evelyn turned toward our end of the table. “When does y’all’s hike leave?”
Holston answered, “Around 8:00, I think…pretty close to the time we pull into port this morning. I think we dock in Skagway about 7 AM.”
Jake slurped his coffee with an expression of sheer pleasure. “Our train doesn’t leave ’till noon, so we’re takin’ a shuttle into town to do a short walking tour.”
