by L. Langdon
“Small town. Rumors get around.” He shifted in his seat and put the truck into gear. Mindy’s place was about three minutes away, and he didn’t want to park out in front of it while talking to Gerri. If Mindy looked out her window, she would recognize his truck and have way too much to tell Gerri. “Do you have a few minutes, or is your roommate looking for you?”
“I have time. Mindy’s out of town.”
He started to protest that, but didn’t want to admit to having seen her. “Oh,” he finally said.
“I think she is. She was leaving on the ferry tonight. She works for the Alaska Department of Health and she has to visit the small towns.”
“Ah.” That was for the best.
Sven pulled over onto a unpaved road—barely more than a track. She could see remnants of some strange equipment. Then he went around a bend and parked facing a beautiful view of nighttime Juneau across the harbor.
“What is this place?”
“They call it the rock dump. There used to be a gigantic gold mine in the mountains behind Juneau, and this is where they dumped the tailings—the rock that they dug out. It’s just a place where we won’t be bothered. And where there’s a nice view of the city.” He cut the engine and turned in his seat. “Gerri, I overreacted last week. I came to the saloon to see if you were all right. And also to apologize.”
“That’s all right. I can understand why you were upset. There were times when you behaved in ways that I know you wouldn’t have if you had known that I was a woman.” The ‘peeping Thomasina’ memories caused an invisible flush in her cheeks.
“Still, I overreacted.” He searched for a way to change the subject. “Tell me how you came to be looking for a fishing job anyway?”
Gerri was happy to take her mind off of this evening. She found herself telling Sven all about her adventure, and how she sought to extend it after it was cut short by Rich’s deployment. She even told him about how it started, with Thurman and his disparaging remarks. After all, she reminded herself, she’d never see Sven again after she left Alaska.
After she fell silent, he tapped rhythmically on his steering wheel for a few seconds. “That’s pretty impressive. You have a lot of courage.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He was struck by her voice—her real voice. It was a beautiful voice. He almost asked how she had disguised it, but didn’t want to return to that subject. He thought again about her story. “That ex-boyfriend of yours was a real idiot.”
She flushed with pleasure. “Thank you.”
“Do you have enough money now to get back home?”
Gerri sighed. She’d worked out this arithmetic more times than she liked. “Just about. I think so—maybe if I don’t eat much on the bus.”
“The bus! You’re going to cross the country by bus?”
“That’s how I got to Seattle. It’s cheaper. And anyway, I already have the ticket. I know it’ll be long…” She trailed off. She didn’t want Sven to replace his ‘pretty impressive’ verdict with an ‘are you crazy?’ one.
Suddenly, Sven knew what he wanted. Perhaps he’d wanted it ever since he had seen her in the saloon and simply refused to admit it to himself. But now it made eminent sense. “Why don’t you stay for a few more weeks? Come back on the Glacier Gal. You’ll make more than enough to fly back home.”
“You’d accept me back? After all this?”
“Yes. I told you that I made a mistake. You’re a good worker…and good company.”
Gerri’s breath caught. This was a chance to redeem herself—to show Sven that she was worthy of his confidence. And a chance to complete her adventure. But to make a promise…she didn’t want to disappoint him again.
Sven took her thoughtful silence as indecision. “I’ll give you a better title,” he smiled, “You can be First Mate.”
Gerri stared at him in wonderment. Wouldn’t that be something to brag about.
Sven saw her shock. Could she have thought…the last thing Gerri needs is some more innuendos from a male! “I mean,” he said hastily, blushing furiously, “That’s a nautical term. It means the second in command of a vessel.”
Even in the dim light from the dashboard, Gerri could see the color in his face. For some reason, she found his embarrassment endearing. “I’m honored, sir. And I accept.” With that she grinned and snapped off a salute.
“It’s a deal. But you have to promise not to salute. Especially around Wally.”
Her excitement sparked a playfulness that Gerri scarcely knew she had. “I promise never to do that…” She watched him nod, and then grinned. “Unless I want to annoy you.”
Sven sat in his truck and watched until Gerri was in the building with the door latched behind her. Then he drove slowly back to the boat harbor. He had much to think about.
He had apparently appointed himself to be Gerri’s protector. He hadn’t told her about the overheard conversation suggesting that the two drunks had planned to accost her after work. He didn’t want to upset her. Anyway, they would have their hands full tonight with the basics—like walking and keeping food down. Tomorrow, they would sober up and realize what a rotten idea the whole thing had been.
How would Gerri feel about his protectiveness? Sven didn’t pretend to have a handle on the women’s lib thing, but he was pretty sure that that subject should be broached much later, if ever.
Did he have any regrets? No, not at all. Gerri had a very appealing combination of courage, spunk, and sweet innocence that Sven found irresistible. Yes, he would watch over her and help her have the best adventure possible.
Chapter 12
Gerri eased her way cautiously down the ramp to the floats of the boat harbor. She was carrying a full shopping bag in each hand, and she was wearing a backpack that contained her personal effects. It was low tide and the ramp was steep this morning. When she reached the bottom, she couldn’t resist turning around to look back up. For some reason, that ramp tickled her fancy. A reminder of the ‘otherness’ of Juneau, perhaps.
When she resumed her walk, she almost bumped into Wally. “Good morning, Wally,” she said, hoping for a friendly response this time.
He muttered a greeting, and cocked his head. “Are you back on the Glacier Gal?”
She nodded and grinned.
“Hmmph,” he said in mild surprise, and walked on.
She pondered that as she approached Sven’s boat. Was that a friendly response? A little, she hoped.
She could see Sven now, making things shipshape on the Glacier Gal. He was carrying two of those lead sinkers, seemingly without effort. Seeing his strength reminded her again of last night. My knight in shining armor. She didn’t approve of the violence. And she accepted Sven’s word that he didn’t either. But the evident ruthless efficiency he showed in dispatching the two men made her wonder.
That hadn’t, however, stopped her from dreaming about Sven when she finally fell asleep. She remembered bits and pieces—most of it embarrassing. She had been in his arms on the Glacier Gal, and was explaining to him that she was on birth control pills even though she was a virgin. That was one dream that she would never tell anybody about, ever!
He looked up and saw her. He gave a little wave and grinned, and she felt an involuntary flutter in her chest. He hopped over the gunwale of the boat and started toward her with hands extended to take her shopping bags.
When he caught sight of Gerri, Sven couldn’t suppress an irrational feeling of relief and excitement. He had spent much of the night imagining reasons why she might change her mind. When their eyes met, she flashed him a brilliant smile and his jaw almost dropped. That was a smile that she hadn’t shared even once during their first trip. It was the kind of winsome smile that made a guy want to grin foolishly in response. And dimples! It was almost unfair. He wondered if she knew its impact. If I had seen that smile, I would have known right away…
Sven also noticed that the baggy sweats that she had previously worn on the boat were gone. In
their place, she wore a sweater and jeans. Yes, definitely a cute little figure…
He found his tongue. “Welcome back, sailor.” Am I grinning like an idiot or what? Suddenly self-conscious, he stepped back onto the boat with her shopping bags and asked over his shoulder, “Do you want me to put these on your bunk?”
“Uh, no.” This was the part that Gerri was uncertain about. Would Sven still be touchy about the cooking? “That goes in the kitch… uh, galley. It’s food—some fresh produce, actually.”
He put the sacks on the table and turned to look at her.
Is he angry? Or just puzzled? She took a breath. “I was hoping…I thought that if I’m the First Mate, I should take on some new duties—like cooking.” She looked at him hopefully.
Sven’s eyes opened wide. He’d never thought of this perk when he offered her the job back. “You can cook?” That was dumb! Of course she can.
“Yes I can.” Gerri gave him a sly smile. “You see, in my family, the females did all of the cooking.”
Sven stared. Then he chuckled. Then he laughed out loud, which started Gerri laughing as well. Finally, they fell silent and stared at each other, smiling. Sven shook his head. “You must have been ticked off when I said that.”
“Not at you. I felt trapped, and I knew it was my own darn fault.”
“Well, I’m delighted. You’ve got yourself a new duty. Wait. Can you cook on an oil stove?”
“You name it; we’ve had it on the farm. I’ve even cooked on a wood stove.”
Sven made a bowing gesture. “Goddess of the galley. And I’ll help with the cleanup.”
Almost before she knew it, they were underway. Sven had evidently been waiting for her. “OK, let’s go,” he had said after he had started the engine and studied the dials for a few seconds. That, and a nod toward the mooring lines, had been all the direction that she needed. She was proud of that. She cast off the lines quickly and he eased out of the slip. After they were out of the boat harbor, he brought the Glacier Gal up to cruising speed, and Gerri eagerly took in the vista off the port side—the city of Juneau, nestled tidily between the ocean and the mountains.
Suddenly, she realized what she was missing. She raced down to her bunk and got her Instamatic. Her family would never believe how beautiful this town was without pictures to prove it. Gerri wouldn’t have believed it herself, if she hadn’t seen it. She hadn’t used the camera on their first trip out—there was too much to learn and she was concentrating too much on playing her ‘male’ role. Making up for lost time, she snapped several pictures.
She glanced at Sven as she returned the camera. He was smiling, but he seemed distracted and thoughtful. I hope he isn’t having second thoughts about this. As she climbed the ladder back up to the pilot house, she tried to think of what she might say to reassure him, but she came up blank.
Gerri’s joy was contagious. Her happiness made Sven happy. It was such a simple thing, but precious. He couldn’t remember the last time this had happened to him. Maybe during the early months with Laura? Possibly, but not the same.
He wanted to keep this mood alive, but there was an issue festering in the back of his mind. And he wanted to get that issue out of the way even more. When Gerri came back to the pilot house, he asked, “Did you see Wally on your way to the boat?”
He already knew the answer. Unless Wally had learned how to fly, she had to have passed him on her way down the float.
“Yes, I did.”
“Was he…” Sven hadn’t quite worked out how to phrase this. “Was he polite?”
She considered her answer. “Sort of. I’d say yes; at least he was much nicer than he was the last time.”
“Good.” Sven exhaled the breath that he’d been holding unconsciously. “I talked to him. I think he’ll come around.” Gerri watched him solemnly. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what his problem was.” He shrugged. “I don’t pretend to understand what makes people tick. But even on his good days, he’s sort of…”
“Grumpy? Irascible? Surly?” Gerri grinned. “Just kidding.” And she was kidding—sort of. A franker analysis on her part would have added ‘racially prejudiced’ at the front of the list. But that wasn’t Sven’s fault, and she didn’t want to make him feel bad.
Sven laughed, relieved at her lighthearted response. “All of those, probably. But I can tell you that he’s basically a good guy after you get to know him.”
After they were a couple of hours out of Juneau, Gerri disappeared into the galley, where she was stowing the extra food and, to Sven’s eager anticipation, beginning to prepare their first meal. He gazed idly around. The sky was covered with a high deck of clouds, but there was no rain. The clouds tended to mute the colors: the near hills were dark green, fading to blue, and ultimately to a pearly gray as they receded into the distance. The water, too, was blue gray.
He had the urge to draw, but he didn’t see a likely subject. Just as well, he thought. Both drawing and painting were private activities for him. He wasn’t ready to share them with Gerri.
His usual practice was to make pencil or charcoal sketches of whatever took his fancy while on the Glacier Gal. He rarely did any actual painting on the boat. It was too much trouble, to juggle his paints on the boat, and, in any case, he was too busy fishing. He did his painting at home, after the fishing season was over, frequently using his sketches to jog his memory.
Then, in the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of motion close to the boat. “Gerri, can you come up here?”
Gerri stepped forward from the galley and looked around. She tried to make it a test of her nautical skills to see what had caught Sven’s attention, but she couldn’t see anything unusual.
Sven gestured to the door on the side of the pilot house. “Go out on deck at the bow and look down at the water.”
She paused to grab a light jacket—this wasn’t South Carolina. Sven watched her as she worked her way to the bow and stared down. He was hyper-conscious of her form as she bent over. Was she wearing different clothes? Or was it just that the blinders had been removed from his eyes? Her jeans pulled taut as she bent.
Laura had always been proud of her hourglass figure—and justifiably so. But, Sven now realized, she never really had much of a bottom. Hips, yes, but her butt was flat. Gerri, on the other hand, had a delightfully round and firm looking bottom. Sven found himself wondering what it would be like to cup it in his hands. He was just about to feel guilty about his inappropriate thoughts, when Gerri jerked upright.
Gerri turned back to look at him with a shocked and delighted expression. Sven checked briefly—there was nothing dangerous in the Glacier Gal’s path, so he engaged the automatic pilot and headed up to join her.
“What are they? They’re beautiful.”
“Porpoises. You see them every once in a while.”
“What are they doing?”
“Just playing. I don’t know whether we’re part of the game or whether we’re just a handy prop in a game of ‘zoom the boat.’”
Gerri was silent, and they both watched. Several times a minute, a porpoise would streak by the boat, just skimming the edge of the bow wave no more than two feet away from the boat. They were impressive creatures, easily seven to eight feet long.
“Actually, I have them trained just to give you a show.”
She grinned at him. “You lie.”
He grinned back and nodded. “Yup.”
But Sven had taken away one valuable idea. That evening, after they had anchored and eaten, in the privacy of his cabin, he set out to capture Gerri on paper. By the time he finally turned in, he had several drawings that he liked. There was one of Gerri squatting in the mud, with a paint brush in her hand and the hull of the Glacier Gal above her. Even better—one he would definitely keep for himself—was a picture of her in the pilot house, eyes wide and intent, lips pursed in concentration, as she guided the boat. His favorite, which he would not only keep, but make into an oil painting after the fishing seaso
n was over, was inspired by her encounter with the porpoises. It had her on the front deck, head thrown slightly back and laughing—sharing her joy with the viewer of the picture.
He affixed his mark, ‘HSSH,’ on those that he intended to keep and carefully stored them away.
Chapter 13
Several days later, Sven was awakened by the sound of singing. He lay there trying to make sense of this. He had shown her the Zenith Transoceanic radio that he kept in the pilot house. It was a multi-band radio which could easily bring in broadcast stations from the ‘lower 48’ states at night. At this time of day, the best one could hope for was one of the Juneau stations. He lay there listening. She had apparently taken it out onto the back deck. That was fine with him—the batteries were fresh.
The only thing that he had worried about—selfishly—when he showed her the radio was the prospect that she might choose music which he would hate. This song, however, was very pleasant, even haunting.
He glanced at his watch and made a disgusted noise. He had been up late drawing and he had overslept. He stumbled out of his cabin and splashed some water on his face before he went on deck. He didn’t want to look like a total savage in front of Gerri.
Gerri was surprised that Sven hadn’t been up and at it long before now. He normally had the Glacier Gal moving before dawn. On the other hand, she couldn’t be too shocked at his sleeping late. He had been working late in his cabin recently. She was curious about what he was doing, but it seemed rude to ask. He was very willing—almost eager—to instruct her in anything having to do with fishing, so she assumed that it was a private relaxation time for him. He probably got sick of her by the end of the day.
This morning was unusually gorgeous. The sun was just coming up, and the water in the cove where they had anchored was like glass. She thought she saw an eagle soaring over the edge of the tree line where the forest met the beach. It was just so lovely, and she was just so happy to be here to see it that she channeled her choir experience and just started singing. She stopped singing as she heard Sven’s voice.
