by L. Langdon
___
Gerri would have liked to have stayed there all day, hiking further up the mountain; exploring and just enjoying Sven’s company. But the weather was worsening. The sun clouded over; the wind picked up; and the temperature dropped. There was the threat of rain—and if there was anything that Gerri had learned in her stay, it was that Juneau had a tendency to make good on such threats.
They were almost trotting down the hill, trying to beat the rain, when Sven called for a rest stop. “Let’s rest for a few minutes and grab a bite to eat. We have time.”
“You need to rest?” Gerri teased. “I could run downhill all day.”
“You’d be surprised,” Sven said as he took two U-No candy bars out of his pack and handed one to her. “You feel fine now, but you’ll feel it here tomorrow.” He gestured to the fronts of his thighs.
“We’ll see,” said Gerri as she hungrily attacked the candy. “Ummm. I’m lucky they don’t have these in South Carolina. I’d be even fatter than I am already.” Instantly, she regretted her unguarded words—she didn’t want to call Sven’s attention to her deficiencies.
But he just snorted. After a minute, he elaborated. “That’s ridiculous. You’re not a bit fat. In fact, you’re very nicely proportioned, if you don’t mind my saying so. And with all of the exercise you get, that’s not likely to change.”
If I don’t mind? Are you kidding? But she merely beamed and said, “No, of course I don’t mind. Thank you.” Would Thurman have come up with such a courtly compliment? Not likely.
Sven stared at her. When Gerri’s dimples were blazing at full wattage, he had to be very careful, lest he do something foolish. It was bad enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. He made a show of checking his watch. “We should get started again,” he said. He took her candy wrapper and stuffed both of them into his pack.
Gerri sensed his shy embarrassment, and she smiled secretly as they continued down the hill at a slower pace. She liked how Sven could make her feel appreciated without making her feel like prey.
Searching for a neutral topic of conversation, she looked at the valley in front of them as well as the water and the mountains beyond. “Look, it’s already raining on that island. We’d better hurry.”
“Douglas Island,” Sven supplied helpfully. “That rain will be here in half an hour, but we’ll be back at the truck in plenty of time.”
“Look how pretty it is. Maybe I’ll take a picture.”
Sven considered the scene for a moment. “I think you’d be disappointed. The clouds and the mist would wash out all of the color. You’d need an expensive camera and special filters to increase the contrast.”
“Oh.” Gerri thought about that. Her remark had been offhand and she hadn’t expected such a technical answer. It shouldn’t have surprised her—Sven was a painter and painting was similar to photography. “Did you ever think about trying photography instead of painting?”
“Nooo…” He paused. That answer was easy, but his reasons were a bit harder to express. “I like the challenge of capturing a scene just the way I want it through my own skill. Without any extra equipment and without the extra step of film development. It’s more work, but…” He shrugged.
Gerri thought of that sketch that he had made of her when she’d just seen the porpoises. Would the camera have made her look as good? Probably not. She certainly wasn’t complaining. “I saw a couple of your paintings in Taku Books. They were very nice. I’d love to see some more.”
Sven looked at his watch again. Could we swing by my house? No, I’d want to clean it up first. But before he could say anything, Gerri piped up again.
“But I can’t do it today. I promised Mindy that I’d go to a political rally with her tonight. She’ll worry if I’m late.”
Sven shot her a disgusted look. “Of course: in the hands of the malevolent monster.”
“I’m sorry. She…”
“That’s all right, don’t worry about it. I was just blowing off steam.”
“Have you ever tried explaining your point of view to Mindy?”
“No. And don’t you try either.”
Gerri had been considering just that. There were still things that she didn’t know about Sven—the violence thing came to mind—but she was convinced that he was not as bad as Mindy thought. But still…he was so adamant. “Why not?”
“I don’t want to come between you and Mindy. But I also don’t want to come between Mindy and her family.”
“Why would that happen?”
Sven grimaced and shook his head. “Mindy’s mother is possessed by her hatred of me. Her whole life revolved around Laura’s ambitions, and I took that away from her. If Mindy started defending me, her mother would go spastic. It would tear their family apart. It’s best to leave well enough alone.”
Gerri started to object, but one glance at Sven’s expression stopped her. And in case his expression wasn’t clear, he quickly changed the subject. “Let’s walk faster—that rain is moving this way quickly.”
She considered her impulse as they hurried toward the truck. She had no business talking about this obviously sensitive subject. They, after all, had lived through the terrible experience and had lived with the aftermath in the years since. She, however, quite literally didn’t know what she was talking about.
But it saddened her. These two people—each of whom had proved to be a wonderful friend—were locked into perpetual strife. But she would be gone soon. She decided to enjoy the company of each of them for the few remaining weeks of her adventure.
___
“You went inside the glacier? I’ve never been on that trail.”
“I can take you there next time I’m in town.”
“That’s a turnabout—you showing me around. But yes, I’d like that.”
Gerri had told Mindy about her glacier trip, being careful to downplay Sven’s role. In her telling, he was reduced to little more than a chauffeur. She would have loved to say more. She wanted a confidant with whom she could talk about the kiss that she and Sven had shared. But not Mindy. In fact, she couldn’t think of anyone whom she could tell. Not her mother, whose immediate response would be “Isn’t he white?” Gerri sighed. That part of her adventure would just remain her secret.
The next morning, Gerri went to the grocery early to shop for their next trip. Mindy volunteered to drive her before going to work.
As they unloaded the groceries onto the dock, Mindy asked nervously, “Do you need help carrying them to the boat?” But Gerri knew that Mindy would rather avoid running into Sven.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll just take two or three loads. You go ahead and get to work.”
They hugged goodbye and Gerri watched Mindy’s car disappear down the street. She turned to pick up her first load and almost ran into Wally, who was coming up the ramp from the floats.
He gave her a strange look and gestured toward Mindy’s car. “You know her?”
“Yes, we’re friends. I met her the first day I came to Juneau. I stay with her when I’m not out on the Glacier Gal.”
Wally made a face. He didn’t like this one damn bit. In his opinion, Gerri was leading Sven around by the nose. And Mindy would say or do anything to make Sven’s life miserable. So what are they cooking up? “So what’s going on? Does Sven know about this?”
Was everybody worried about this feud? “Yes, he knows. And yes, I know that they don’t get along.”
Now there’s an understatement! “Did she put you up to asking him for a job? You know you can’t trust anything she says.”
“Sven admitted that much of what she said was true.” Can I get Wally’s side of this without making him angry?
“He is too damn agreeable for his own good. I guarantee that someone’s up to something.”
Gerri’s eyes widened as she realized what Wally was insinuating. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Trager. If you’re implying that I would let Mindy use me to hurt Sven, then you owe me an apology. I would never
hurt him. Never.”
Wally just stared back. He had never seen Gerri angry. He couldn’t help but be impressed by her fire. Belatedly, he remembered Sven’s telling him about the Arctic Saloon episode: Gerri had been ready to wade into the fight, brandishing a champagne bottle. He then remembered their horseplay at the dock. The affection that they showed then was not one-sided. He took a deep breath to gird himself for an unpleasant duty—Damn, but he hated apologizing.
“I’m sorry,” he offered grudgingly, “I didn’t mean that you would help her. She might be planning something behind your back.”
“OK, but I don’t think so. She just found out two days ago, and she knows I need the money that I get from working on the Glacier Gal.”
Wally stared off into the distance, deep in thought. He looked unconvinced.
“Look,” Gerri entreated. “I didn’t ask to get into the middle of something like this. I really like Mindy, and I like Sven at least as much.” Maybe too much… “And his wife’s death sounds tragic, but that shouldn’t cause a feud that lasts for years. Maybe you could explain it to me a bit?” She looked at him hopefully.
Wally looked at her thoughtfully. Then he looked around and pointed to a wooden bench. “Put down those groceries for a minute and let’s sit.”
When they had settled onto the bench, he started in. “The Schumachers were an ambitious bunch, and it all revolved around Laura. Her mother was grooming her to be a movie star. The odds against something like that were high, of course, but they were determined. They sent her to Seattle for acting lessons a couple of times…” He paused and shrugged.
“Who knows; she might have had a chance. She was real pretty—in a flashy way. Pinup pretty, if you know what I mean.”
Gerri nodded, but felt a stab of hurt. If that was what Sven was used to…
“This was before Sven was even in the picture, mind you.
“Then all of the fuss about boxing happened.” He glanced at Gerri inquiringly, but she just shrugged and shook her head.
“He went on a shopping trip to Seattle with his parents when he was sixteen. He wasn’t getting along too well with them, but that’s another story. They pretty much left him on his own while they were shopping. One day he wandered into a boxing gym.
“Somehow, he convinced the proprietors to let him try his hand. They probably figured ‘what the hell;’ I mean, he looked as strong as an ox even then and if he got a little beat up, well, no skin off their noses.
“Only, it was he who did the beating. He was a natural, I guess. He came back to Juneau saying that he wanted to be a boxer. We didn’t think too much of it—I mean kids change their minds about what they want to be all of the time.”
Wally shook his head. “Then things got crazy. A few weeks later, a boxing promoter breezed into town. He tried—hard—to talk Sven and his parents into signing a contract. But he didn’t leave it at that. He threw a lot of money around and he talked to the local newspaper about how Sven could be the next Ingemar Johansson.” He stopped and looked at Gerri significantly.
She realized that she was supposed to be impressed, but she couldn’t oblige. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who that is.”
Wally made a resigned noise. “Not a boxing fan. OK. He was the heavyweight champion of the world during part of that time. You know: ‘toonder and lightning?’ That’s how Johansson described his right fist.”
Now, Gerri remembered the bartender’s cryptic phrase at the Arctic Saloon. She raised her eyebrows and nodded slowly. “I see. And ‘toonder’ means…thunder?”
Wally looked satisfied at her reaction. “Yes. Swedish accent. Johansson was from Sweden.”
“How did Sven handle all of that?”
“Pretty well, for a sixteen year old. He didn’t sign a contract, but he did make a couple more trips—paid for by the promoter—to Seattle to work out in that gym.”
“Meanwhile, thanks to the articles in the newspaper, Sven was a big man in town. People started calling him ‘toonder and lightning.’” Wally stopped and sighed. “That’s when the Schumachers got involved.”
“All of them?”
“Well, not Mindy, of course. She was just a kid. But the parents? Yeah. At least the mother. Laura never did much of anything without her mother’s approval. Anyway, Laura started making a big play for Sven. And she was the big deal in high school, so she certainly caught his attention. Next thing you know…”
“They fell in love that fast?”
That caused Wally to briefly look askance at her. “I wouldn’t know about that. She got pregnant. The Schumachers talked about sending her to Seattle for an abortion. Not public talk—Sven told me this. But Sven was determined to do the right thing, which to him meant marrying her.”
“So they weren’t in love?” Gerri hated herself for caring about the answer, but Wally just shrugged.
“Who knows? Sven said all of the right things, but I think he could feel the weight of all of this hanging around his neck.”
They both sat quietly for a time. Gerri broke the silence. “Was that why he decided not to be a boxer? Because of his marital responsibilities?”
“I don’t know why. He didn’t tell me. I don’t think he told anybody. It was a few weeks later, after one of his trips to Seattle. He just announced that he wasn’t going to box any more, and he wouldn’t talk about it any more.
“The Schumachers were livid. He was to have been Laura’s means of getting noticed by Hollywood. That pretty much sent the marriage down the drain.”
“I can imagine. One minute you’re married to a man destined for fame. The next minute you’re married to a small town guy who intends to become a fisherman.”
Wally scowled. “Are you saying you sympathize with her?”
“No, not a bit. I don’t think that’s a good reason for getting married. When I marry, it’ll be for love.”
Wally looked down towards the floats, and then stood up. “I see Sven coming this way. He’s probably looking for you.” He reached for one of her bags. “They have carts at the foot of the ramp. I’ll help you carry these down.”
At the bottom, just before Sven came into earshot, Wally leaned in close to Gerri. “I told you this in confidence. You won’t say anything, will you?”
“I won’t say anything. I promise.”
After they had stowed the groceries in the galley of the Glacier Gal, Sven turned to Gerri. “Wally was helping you?”
She grinned. “Helpful and cordial, both.”
Sven shook his head and smiled. “Will wonders never cease?”
Chapter 19
Gerri was tired, but her day’s work was not over. She and Sven had been out for two weeks, but had agreed to keep going because the fishing was so good. Today, they had fished until a rising storm had forced them to seek an anchorage. They were about an hour away from a safe cove, but it would be a tough hour.
She was at the helm while Sven was trying to fix the suddenly recalcitrant galley stove. She liked steering the boat—the sense of responsibility and, maybe, power. Some days it was easy. When the water was calm, one just had to maintain the heading and watch for logs and other hazards. The biggest danger was being lulled into inattention.
On days like today, though, being the helmsman was hard work. The clouds were dark and the rain, lashed by a strong wind, was beating against the windows of the pilot house. The waves were large and getting larger. Some were breaking over the Glacier Gal’s bow and cascading against the pilot house. At Sven’s direction, Gerri had throttled the engine back below normal cruising speed, but the boat was still tossing around. They were quartering into the prevailing sea, which meant that the waves were coming at them at an angle of 45° off the bow. So each wave not only pitched the boat around, but tried to push it off course.
She glanced back into the galley to try to judge Sven’s progress. Even though she wasn’t cooking now, they needed that stove. It provided the warmth for the boat, and the storm-borne wind was cold an
d raw.
And the cooking was important as well; they were both hungry. In nicer weather—and with a functioning stove—she would start the cooking now so that they could eat immediately after anchoring. Cooking on a boat in anything but the calmest water was an experience in itself. As with everything else on the boat, the galley was designed for the weather. There were small railings on the stove and all of the counters, and all of the cabinet doors had latches which she had learned to use at all times.
She smiled as she imagined telling her mother about the adventure of cooking in these conditions. But her smile was short-lived—she wouldn’t attempt cooking in this storm. Today she would wait until they had safely anchored. She was not about to risk a pot of boiling water sent flying by a gigantic wave.
She felt Sven’s hands on her shoulders and she leaned back against him. She hadn’t heard him over the engine noise, but it seemed as though she could tell when he was near. He leaned close and spoke into her ear.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m doing fine. I think the waves are getting worse.” He massaged her shoulders. “Oh, that feels good. Don’t stop.” She hadn’t realized how tense her shoulders had gotten.
As he continued his massage, Gerri thought about the last two weeks. The ‘glacier kiss’ had not been repeated, but there had been small expressions of intimate affection more and more frequently from each of them. She was willing to admit, to herself at least, that she had a large crush on Sven. And what’s wrong with that? There was no safer place to have it—far from the racial turmoil of South Carolina: thousands of miles from the disapproving eyes of family, friends, and future coworkers. When she returned home, all of this would exist only in her memories.
And what of Sven? Her feminine instincts told her that he was attracted to her as well. Ironically, she was surer of his affection than she ever had been of Thurman’s, in spite of the fact that Sven had made no overt passes at her. Was he shy? Or reluctant to get involved with a black woman? Or reluctant to get involved with someone who was leaving so soon? She would love to encourage him subtly. For the first, and probably only, time in her life, she thought with amusement that she would welcome the advice of those sophisticated, big city girls who used to tease her in college.
