by Sue Pethick
“Don’t be silly. Once Carter is in practice, you won’t need a job.”
“I didn’t say I’d need one, but I’d like to have a career of some sort.”
“Well, I don’t think you need to get so upset about it. I was only trying to help.”
She was right, Emily told herself, there was no reason to be upset. If anything, she should be happy to have a boyfriend her mother liked well enough to want as a son-in-law. Heaven knows, she had friends whose mothers would kill to have their daughters dating someone like Carter. Nevertheless, it didn’t mean she wanted to encourage this kind of thing. Better to just try to change the subject.
“How’s Uncle Danny doing?”
“Oh, you know your uncle. The man is indestructible.”
Emily wasn’t so sure about that.
“Did he get the test results yet?”
“Hmm? No, nothing definite.”
“But you’ll let me know right away if it’s anything bad, right?”
“Of course. Now, listen, you just take care of yourself, all right? And don’t worry about us. Everything’s fine.”
As she hung up, Emily had felt relieved about her uncle and proud of herself for making it clear—firmly, but gently—that her mother’s meddling was unwelcome. It was only afterward that she began to have second thoughts. Not because her own mother had tried to interfere, but because she knew that Carter’s mother would be doing the same thing to him, and she wasn’t sure that he’d be as resolute.
Emily knew it was unfair and even sexist, but it bothered her that Carter never seemed to stand up to his mother. Whenever Sheila insisted he do something, he always went along with whatever it was, even when Emily knew he didn’t want to. Not only did it seem unmanly for him to just accede to his mother’s wishes, but the implications for any future they might have together were troubling. After the two of them were married—if they got married—would his mother try to run both their lives? And if so, would Carter simply expect Emily to go along?
“How are you guys doing over here?”
Emily gave a start, roused from her musings. As Tim Garrett approached, she felt embarrassed and wrong-footed.
“Everything getting checked off your list?”
Kimberley nodded, turning the clipboard around to show him their checklist. With Emily’s arm still recovering, Tim had asked her to act as their scribe.
“So far, so good,” she said.
“Glad to hear it.” He looked at Emily. “How’s the arm?”
“Much better, thanks. I go in to have it checked tomorrow.”
“I hear you’re looking for experience as a fisheries observer.”
“I’m hoping to, yes.”
“You’ve already completed your new observer training?”
“I did, yeah. At Scripps.”
“Catch shares or non?”
“Catch shares, of course.”
Catch sharing was a management tool that divided the total allowable catch, or catch limit, among the fishery participants. By sharing catch limits among themselves, fishermen could optimize the time they spent at sea while guaranteeing their take wouldn’t exceed the area’s overall catch limits. Before choosing her training class, Emily had been careful to check the rules for Alaskan waters.
“Excellent! Why don’t I get you signed up for catch monitoring training, then? It’ll be three days, sometime in the next couple of weeks, nothing too strenuous. Once you’re finished, we’ll slot you onto a ship. I’m thinking middle to late July. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.”
“Good. In the meantime, why don’t you two break for lunch? We’ll meet back here at one-thirty.”
As Tim walked away, Emily beamed. This was exactly the sort of thing she’d been hoping for when she came to Ketchikan. As an intern and an observer, she’d have even more of the kind of hands-on experience that would move her resume to the top of anyone’s pile.
Kimberley seemed perplexed.
“I thought you just wanted experience at the cannery,” she said. “Why go out as an observer, too?”
“More experience is always good. Plus, my interest is in biodiversity and conservation. If I’m out there monitoring what’s being caught, I can see firsthand how well fisheries management is working.”
“My dad says that if the government had its way, there wouldn’t be any more fishing in Alaska. Ketchikan would just be one big tourist trap.”
Emily was surprised that anyone in the intern program would be foolish enough to believe that, but she wasn’t about to contradict the girl’s father. The two of them were barely getting along as it was. Why make things worse?
“Well, I’m sure he has his reasons,” she said. “Don’t forget to take that stuff to Tim.”
Kimberley nodded vaguely.
“Yeah,” she said. “See ya.”
* * *
As Emily left the cannery, she took a deep breath, relieved to be free of Kimberley’s unspoken hostility and grateful for a chance to warm up after a morning spent in the refrigerated air. She was glad there’d been no mention of having lunch together. Not that she’d expected it, but the two of them had had a relatively peaceful morning, and the alternative meant eating alone. Until Kimberley got over her obsession with Sam, Emily was determined to spend as little one-on-one time with her as possible.
The whole situation was just ridiculous. For one thing, Emily had a perfectly good—no, make that a great—boyfriend back home, and even if she and Carter weren’t engaged, neither one of them had ever expressed an interest in seeing other people. Sure, there were times when it felt as if her choices had been a bit limited, but that was only because she’d been too busy with school to do a lot of dating. It wasn’t as if she were being forced into an arranged marriage; Emily loved Carter, full stop.
So, no, she thought as she headed up First Street, she had not been flirting with Sam Reed, and even if she had been, so what? He knew perfectly well that Emily’s job in Ketchikan was only temporary, and it wasn’t Kimberley’s business who either one of them spent time with. If she didn’t like their hanging out together, she could take it up with Sam.
At McDonald’s, Emily stood in a long line of cruise ship passengers for a Big Mac and fries, then took her bag outside to find a table, eager for a chance to enjoy the sunshine. The sky in Ketchikan was more intensely blue that time of year than it was at home, the brilliant sun a striking contrast to the interior mountains still overspread with snow. Between the snowcaps and the harbor lay a swathe of dense forest that enfolded the island’s foothills like a blanket of phthalo green. To someone who’d grown up in a semiarid climate, like she had, the whole place seemed magical.
As she took a seat on the warm concrete bench, Emily sighed contentedly. It was good to be away from the noise and the smell of the cannery for a while. Even with a checklist, everything moved so fast that it was hard to ensure that each fish had been processed carefully, and the workers still seemed resentful of their presence. With Kimberley being catty, too, it made the job that much harder. It was amazing how tiring dealing with other people’s attitudes could be.
She unwrapped her burger and had just taken a bite when she saw Bear, up on his hind legs, rooting through one of the heavy trash cans by the side door. Emily looked around, but did not see Sam.
“Bear? What are you doing here?”
The dog pulled back, a discarded carton of fries in his mouth. When he saw her, he got down, trotted over, then jumped onto the seat beside her and set his prize on the table. Emily smiled.
“Well, hello. Fancy meeting you here.”
She thought she’d be eating alone that day. Now, it looked as if she’d found some company.
Two little boys at the next table nudged each other and giggled as Emily and Bear ate their meals. Their mother smiled hesitantly, probably unsure whether or not she approved of dogs eating at the table, but seemed to soften when she saw Bear return the empty carton to the trash bin when he was don
e. As if on cue, the boys followed suit and were rewarded with licks of approval.
“He’s very polite,” the woman said as her boys returned to their seats. “You’ve trained him well.”
“He’s not mine,” she said. “But I’ll tell his owner you said so.”
While she ate her meal, Emily kept an eye out for anyone who might be there with Sam’s dog. It occurred to her that whoever it was might have left him outside while they went in and ate lunch, but she’d been paying close attention to everyone who came and went through the doors and none had shown anything more than a fleeting interest in the dog. Bear, she decided, must have gotten out on his own.
What should she do?
She couldn’t just go back to work and leave Bear wandering the streets. Sam would be out on the tender all day and she was sure he wouldn’t want his dog to be running loose. Plus, animal control would pick him up sooner or later, if he didn’t get himself killed or injured in the meantime.
She petted Bear’s head, digging her fingers into the thick coat on his neck.
“What am I going to do with you, huh?”
Emily wished she had Sam’s number so she could tell him what had happened and ask if there was anyone who could keep an eye on the dog, but even if she did, she wasn’t sure his cell phone would work while he was at sea. She did know where his house was, though. It seemed as if the best thing to do would be to take Bear home and hope he didn’t escape again before Sam got back.
She wadded up her bag and stuffed it into the trash can.
“Come on, Bear. Let’s take you home.”
The big dog seemed excited to have company. As the two of them headed down the street, he did a few lumbering pirouettes and small half-leaps that sent his ears and heavy coat flapping. Emily had wondered if the weight of so much fur was a strain on Bear’s joints, but other than making his movements a bit ungainly, it didn’t seem to hamper him a bit. Perhaps when it got hotter, she thought, it would be a different story.
They left downtown and passed through an industrial district not far from where Logan Marsh had accosted her. Emily set her hand lightly on Bear’s back, reassured that if anything like that happened again, the dog would protect her. It still puzzled her how Bear had known to come running when she was in trouble before. Were all Newfies as sensitive to human distress as he was, or was Sam’s dog just a special case? She grinned, remembering Sam’s comment.
Don’t look now, but I think my dog has a crush on you.
Maybe she and Bear did have a special connection, she thought. If so, she was glad of it.
As they turned down Sam’s street, Bear hurried ahead. When Emily finally caught up, she found him waiting for her at the front door.
“Sorry, Bear. I can’t let you in.” She patted her pockets. “No key.”
It didn’t take long to find the open gate at the side of the house through which Bear had escaped, though. As she walked back around to retrieve him, Emily hoped the dog was as anxious to get back into his yard as he’d been to get out. If not, she’d just have to find some way to persuade him; Bear was simply too big and too heavy to be dragged unwillingly.
As she headed up the walkway, Emily could see that the dog had decided to make a game of it, going down on his forelegs and sticking his bottom in the air, ready to dart away if she got too close. She was creeping forward, hoping to grab onto his collar before he bolted, when the front door opened and a lovely—very pregnant—woman stepped out.
Tiffany.
The name flashed through Emily’s mind, followed quickly by disappointment and dread. Sam had told her almost nothing about his ex-girlfriend, but it was obvious how much he missed her. They must have made up, she thought, and for a good reason, too.
No wonder Kimberley had been so insistent that she leave Sam alone.
She was about to make her excuses and go when the woman at the door gave her a warm smile.
“Hi there! You must be Emily.”
CHAPTER 12
It had been a long day on the water, but the weather had held and the fisheries were packed. When their count was tallied, the tender and its crew had made enough to compensate for the missed days and most of the one before. As Sam drove up to his house that evening, it looked like this season would be as good as or better than any he’d ever seen. There was nothing like the promise of a big payday to keep both his crew and the ship’s owners happy.
Bear was inside the house, so eager to greet him that Sam had to shove his way through the door. Marilyn must have come by and let him in, he thought as he stroked the dog’s back. He’d have to remember to call and thank her.
Right after dinner.
Sam opened the freezer, took out that night’s meal—beef rib tips with mashed potatoes and gravy—and stuck it in the microwave. While it cooked, he poured some kibble into Bear’s bowl and took out his phone, checking for messages. There’d been a notice about a ship for sale down at the dock that morning and Sam had discreetly given the guy a call and left a message, hoping to get his foot in the door before anyone else. No asking price was mentioned, but the size and type of ship sounded like exactly what he was looking for. With luck, the owner would be reasonable and willing to bargain.
He scrolled through the screens: no message, no e-mail, and no voice mail, either. Sam shrugged and set the phone aside. If he didn’t hear something in a couple of hours, he’d try again. In the meantime, dinner was ready. He took the container out of the microwave and set it on the table, singeing his fingers in the process, then poured himself a drink, grabbed a loaf of bread and a stick of butter, and sat down. He’d just taken his first bite when he saw the note propped up against the salt and pepper shakers.
He didn’t recognize the handwriting. In fact, it wasn’t until he’d snatched it up that Sam realized it had been written by two different people. The main message was from Emily, followed by a PS from Marilyn. He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and started to read.
Hi, Sam!
I saw Bear running loose down at McDonald’s today and brought him home. Marilyn was here and she said it would be better to put him inside. He ate some fries for lunch. Hope that’s okay.
Emily
PS—I like her. ~ M.
Sam set the note aside and took another bite. Just as he’d feared, with no one there to watch him, Bear had gotten out; heaven knows what would have happened if Emily hadn’t found him when she did. And thank goodness Marilyn had been there when she brought him home, too, or he might have gotten right back out again.
He glanced over at Bear. “Hanging out at Mickey D’s, huh?”
Then Sam reached for the note and read it a second time. So, Marilyn had met Emily and liked her, huh? That was big. Marilyn didn’t usually take to people that quickly. As outgoing and friendly as she seemed, she was careful about who she allowed to get close, and she could be critical of people she considered phonies, not bothering to hold back when someone rubbed her the wrong way. For all the time they’d known each other, he knew she’d never warmed up to Tiffany. Kallik had never told him why, just that his wife didn’t trust her.
But she did like Emily.
The phone rang and Sam snatched it up. He was hoping it was about the ship for sale, but seeing Emily’s name was even better.
“Hey, there,” he said. “I just read your note. Thanks for returning my dog.”
“No problem. He’s a good lunch companion.”
“Yeah, he is. Still, I owe you one.”
“I agree. Have you had dinner yet?”
Sam looked at the half-eaten beef tips.
“Uh . . . nope.”
“Good,” she said. “How soon can you pick me up?”
He gave his shirt a sniff: fish, sweat, and diesel fumes.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe half an hour?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
* * *
They sat across from each other, eating Mongolian beef while watching the seaplanes
take off and land outside their window. Sam’s hair was still damp from the shower, but at least he was clean—he’d even found some fresh clothes to wear. Which was a good thing because Emily looked and smelled terrific.
“I really can’t thank you enough for getting me out of that house,” she said. “If I’d had to spend another minute there, I think I would have lost my mind.”
Sam put down his glass.
“What’s the problem? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Oh, you know,” she said, stabbing at her plate. “Girl stuff. My friends back home warned me, but I’d never had roommates before. I thought it’d be fun.”
She chewed thoughtfully and shrugged. “Maybe it’s just me.”
He shook his head. “I doubt that.”
“I suppose I should look on the bright side. At least I’m not obsessing about my mother anymore.”
“There, you see?” he said. “It was good for something.”
Sam reached for a deep-fried shrimp and ran it through the sweet and sour sauce. Sitting there, the two of them talking about their day, he was struck by how natural it felt. Emily was easy to talk to and easy to like. Perhaps that was what Marilyn had sensed about her, too.
“So,” he said. “I hear you met my friend Marilyn.”
“Yes! And she was so nice. The two of us got to talking so long I was almost late getting back to work.”
“Yeah, Marilyn’s a great gal. She and Kallik have been waiting a long time for this baby.”
Emily stared at her plate.
“To tell you the truth, when I first saw her, I thought she was Tiffany.” She shrugged. “And then when I saw she was pregnant—”
“You thought, ‘What kind of a scumbag ditches his pregnant girlfriend?’ ”
“Something like that.”
“Well, just for the record, I’m not that guy.”
She looked up. “I didn’t think you were.”
For just a moment, Sam felt breathless. Emily’s green eyes were striking, but when she smiled the effect was exhilarating. He wondered if she realized how lovely she was.
“So,” he said. “You two were talking.”
