Glacier Gal

by L. Langdon

  In fairness, he had to admit that the look she gave Thurman was an angry one—but was that simply because he wasn’t supposed to reveal their dating? No, Sven didn’t want to talk right now. He didn’t want to say something that he would regret, possibly forever. And in case there was a scene, he didn’t want it to be in the parking lot, visible to all.

  Then there was the matter of his ostensible mission. His selfish purpose aside, they had entrusted him to make a convincing argument for Gerri’s returning to Juneau. His hopes may have been dashed practically before he started, but the larger goal was still possible to achieve. He owed it to them. And, he thought ironically, he would not want to waste Mindy’s politeness—her first toward him in almost a decade.

  As they walked, Gerri was consumed by curiosity, but Sven was clearly in a bad mood. She didn’t blame him—Thurman had behaved abominably. That sly, unwarranted reference to their projected date was uncalled for. She would have to clear that up with Sven. A voice in the back of her mind, though, asked why she should even feel guilty about that. He didn’t want a commitment; he hadn’t even written.

  And Sven himself hadn’t been polite. It was as if he had taken an instant dislike to Thurman. And it couldn’t have been that he remembered the name, because he was glaring daggers at him before she introduced them. And the handshake—she shuddered. What a disaster that would have been if he had injured Thurman. Thank heavens he had ceased—with the barest hint of a sheepish look at her—when she had squeezed his arm.

  When they were in his car, he finally spoke again. “How far is your house?”

  “It’s only about three miles. I can direct…” But he was shaking his head.

  “Is there someplace that we can stop and talk privately?” He asked stiffly. “This will take a little while to explain.”

  Gerri was a bit nervous at his tone, but she felt a rush of pleasurable nostalgia, as she remembered that first night. The night he rescued her at the Arctic Saloon. She called it the first night because it was the start of their honest friendship—without her lying to him about her gender. She smiled impishly. “You mean like our Rock Dump?”

  That earned her a return smile and the atmosphere in the car relaxed several notches. “Yes. I don’t see any hollowed out mountains around here—but your equivalent.”

  She directed him to a deserted road leading to a local creek where they parked under a tree. Sven fished a large manila envelope out from under his seat and held it in his hands as he started talking.

  By the time he had finished and handed her the envelope, her heart was pounding with excitement. “And it’s all in here? Even the contract?”

  “That’s what Mindy said. And she’s very organized, as you know.”

  “You haven’t looked at it?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s sealed and so are the letters inside. It’s private between each writer and you.”

  “This sounds very attractive. I’m sorry that Mrs. Kallek is not feeling well. But I’m really flattered that she thought of me.” She turned the envelope over in her hands, as if she could divine its secrets by touch. There was only one disappointment. “But you didn’t write a letter.”

  “I wanted to see you. Especially since I let you down there at the end—I left you in a bad spot.”

  Gerri had to laugh out loud at that. “You didn’t leave me in a bad spot. Your appendix did. And unless I miss my guess, it’s buried in a landfill or washed down a drain. It’s been duly punished. So stop being ridiculous!” Behind her levity was anxiousness, though. She wanted to be reassured that Sven, above all others, missed her and wanted her back. That reminded her… “Why didn’t you write me? I wanted…” To know that you missed me; that you thought of me constantly. “I wanted to know that you were all right.”

  “I hadn’t been back to the boat. I didn’t know you had left your address there until Mindy told me a few days ago.”

  Gerri nodded. She loved the fact that the familiar, comfortable feeling with Sven had returned. She hated to spoil it, but the longer she waited, the worse it would be. “About today…”

  With that, the floodgates opened. “I know it’s none of my business, but how could you start dating him again? He betrayed you.”

  “I haven’t dated him. He asked me and I told him I would think about it. There’s no romantic interest anymore.”

  “So he was lying about that.” Sven was sorry he had let the guy out of his grip.

  Gerri sighed. “Not exactly. In a weak moment I said I would go out with him. There’s not much to do in this town. It would have been just for the outing.” She had no intention of explaining that the weak moment had been all about Sven.

  Her answer seemed to mollify him. He sat there tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Did he at least apologize?”

  “Sort of. He apologized for the way he spoke to me. But he didn’t say anything about Carlotta.”

  Sven made a disgusted noise. “I wanted to pop him one.”

  “But you didn’t even know who he was at first.”

  “The first moment I looked in the door, you were bending over a chair. And he, chivalrous prince that he was, was bent over trying to look up your skirt.”

  For some reason, Gerri erupted into peals of laughter. Sven looked at her reproachfully. “Well, it couldn’t have done him much good. I was wearing dark pantyhose.”

  He made a sour face and muttered something about the principle of the thing. Gerri patted him on the cheek and grinned. “But thank you for caring.”

  In the ensuing silence, she looked again at the envelope. She was dying to see the letters. She wondered…

  “Why don’t you wait and read them when I’m not breathing down your neck,” Sven said. “In fact, read them tonight when you’re alone.”

  Gerri nodded. Sometimes Sven almost seemed to know what she was thinking. She remembered again that ‘almost kiss’ in the classroom. It would almost have been worth the abuse she would have gotten from Thurman. She took a breath. Now was not the time for dreaming; now was the time for being practical. “How long are you staying?”

  “I have to take the boat out Monday, so I’ll have to start back tomorrow afternoon. I wish I could stay longer, but…” He now regretted that he hadn’t come earlier. Putting the finishing touches on the second painting had taken him longer than he had anticipated. He looked at her hopefully. “If you decide to come, I can hand deliver the signed contract to Mindy.” He saw her frown. “If that’s too soon, you can mail it.”

  “We’ll see. I want to read this, and I may have questions. I’ll want to talk to my parents.” She thought for a moment. “And to Mr. Harrison, he’s the one who got me this job.

  “What about you? Do you have a place to stay tonight?” With a stab of regret, she wished that she’d gotten a place of her own. Her parent’s house had no extra room, but with her own place, she could have invited him to stay with her—neighbors be damned.

  “I’m staying in the Motel 6 down the road.” He didn’t want to presume too much: “Perhaps you can recommend a cheap place to eat.”

  “Don’t be silly. You’ll eat with us. I’m sure my family would love to meet you.” Until they realize that you’re hoping to take me away… “Are you ready and eager to meet them?”

  Sven grinned as he reached for the ignition switch. “I don’t know if I’m ready, but I’m eager.”

  Chapter 31

  Olivia Barton gave the pot of greens an exploratory stir. Satisfied with their cooking progress, she glanced out the window and down the road. Gerri was not yet in sight.

  However, she would be home soon, and Olivia knew that she would come in brimming with frustration about her job. Thank heavens it was Friday—Gerri would have two days of relief from her so-called work. It was ironic. In the bad old days before the integration of the schools, Gerri would easily have gotten a teaching job at the Negro school. She would still have had the usual teaching frustrations, but at least she would have bee
n allowed to teach. And she would have been spared the daily contact with nasty white people—they would be very unlikely to be working at a Negro school.

  Olivia would provide a sympathetic ear this afternoon, of course, but after Gerri had done some venting, Olivia wanted to have something to take her mind off those frustrations. Maybe she’d ask her some more about her summer. That was the one subject that seemed to cheer Gerri up.

  Even now, Olivia found it hard to believe that Gerri had had such an adventure. And that she had done so well financially. More importantly, she had come back with more self-confidence and maturity. Olivia frowned. She didn’t like that word, because it seemed to imply that Gerri was immature before she went. But whatever word Olivia used, the summer had been good for Gerri. She would have a lifetime of memories.

  The only part of Gerri’s adventure that gave Olivia pause was that man that she had worked for. Not that he didn’t seem like a perfectly nice man, but at first it seemed that almost all of her anecdotes involved him—and in very flattering terms. It was as though she had a bit of a crush on him. Olivia was sorry that Gerri was face-to-face with the job inequities of the South, but that was nothing compared to the animus that she would face in an interracial romance.

  Recently, however, Gerri had spoken of him less and less. Probably this was the normal waning of interest. Olivia reflected—not for the first time—on how thankful she was that that man was three thousand miles away.

  She checked the window again. Gerri was overdue. She saw nothing except a car in the distance moving slowly up the road. Squinting, she tried to recognize it but couldn’t. Theirs was a back road—not even paved. Through traffic was rare. In fact, the school buses dropped Joetta and Marilyn at the intersection about a quarter mile away, rather than come down this narrow, rutted lane.

  As she watched, the car turned and pulled into their yard. That made her nervous. The sun reflecting off of the windshield made it impossible to see the passengers, but as the car turned, she caught a glimpse of a large, pale arm. The driver was a white man, and a husky one at that. She glanced at the clock, wishing that Robert was home. Oh well, I should give the man the benefit of the doubt—perhaps he’s just lost. She walked toward the porch to see what he wanted.

  As she stepped out, she was shocked to see Gerri climbing out of the car. A very ebullient Gerri, at that. “Ma, guess what. I have the nicest surprise.” She turned back to the car, laughing. “Are you getting out? She won’t bite.”

  Out climbed a very husky man with a somewhat shy grin on his face. “This is Sven. You remember my talking about him.”

  How could she forget? His sudden appearance made her nervous in spite of the fact he was a very attractive man and his grin was disarming. No, not nervous in spite of that—nervous because of that. The fact that this man had crossed the continent to see Gerri—and Gerri’s excited reaction to him—spelled one thing to Olivia: trouble. In spite of her misgivings, however, she knew her manners. She advanced with her hand out and a smile on her face. “This is certainly a surprise. What brings you all of this way?” Do I really want to hear the answer?

  Sven scanned Olivia’s face with his artist’s eye. Her resemblance to Gerri was unmistakable but, though she had an easy smile, there was wariness behind her gaze. Can I really blame her? If his crash course in southern race relations told him anything, it was that her trust wouldn’t be given automatically. He decided to wait and let Gerri tell her about the job offer.

  “I have a gift for your family; one that I didn’t want to mail. And I brought some letters from Gerri’s friends in Juneau.” He glanced at Gerri, hoping to be rescued.

  “It’s a job offer, Ma. A real teaching job!”

  Olivia’s heart didn’t know whether to soar or to sink. “Up there?”

  Gerri nodded, practically bouncing with excitement. “I don’t know all the details yet. I’m going to read the letters tonight.” She gestured with a large manila envelope. “I invited Sven for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. We’d love to have you eat with us.” Her instincts had been right, she reflected. This could be real trouble. But no more so for having him to dinner. “My husband will be home in an hour or so. Please make yourself at home.”

  ___

  The dinner was half over before Gerri started to relax. She’d never been in this position before. She had two sets of people, each very dear to her, who didn’t know each other at all. She desperately wanted them to like each other. From there, she somehow got the notion that it was her responsibility to make them like each other.

  She gradually realized that she did not have to force the conversation—Sven’s and her family’s interest in each other was obvious. In fact, her sisters were peppering Sven with questions until Gerri was afraid that he wouldn’t have a chance to finish his meal.

  Joetta hung onto his every word. Marilyn did as well, but with a big-eyed flirtatiousness that made Gerri want to slap her. The only saving grace in that was that Sven glanced at Gerri with shared amusement.

  Her father was not saying much, but that was his nature—he wasn’t inclined to compete with the girls in conversation. He was smiling and interested—and once he gave Gerri a wink.

  Her mother was the only person who made her uneasy. She smiled at the right moments, but Gerri could see through her façade of manners. She was not happy about this. Gerri didn’t know why; Sven had been on his best behavior. Perhaps she was worried about the prospect of Gerri’s leaving again. One thing was certain—Gerri would find out eventually; Olivia would see to that.

  When the meal was finished, Joetta and Marilyn were dispatched to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Marilyn made a token protest, “What about Gerri? Why are we doing all of the work?”

  “Gerri has a guest. Now hurry up so that you can see Sven’s present when we unwrap it.” That got rid of them in a hurry.

  Sven turned to Olivia. “Mrs. Barton, that meal was delicious. I can see where Gerri got her cooking skills.”

  “Thank you. Did Gerri cook for you?”

  “Yes. And by her own request, I must say.” He gave Gerri a sly grin.

  Gerri smiled in spite of herself. He had asked her as they approached her house whether there were any topics which should not be mentioned. She gave him four: her masquerade as a male, her fall overboard, the attack by Knox, and (of course) the fact that they had become lovers. His grin was a private ribbing about the first—how neatly she was hoist on her own petard when she first offered to cook. She remembered it still: “I’ll bet that in your family, the females did all of the cooking.”

  “Tell me, Sven,” (Gerri wanted to change the subject, and maybe to put him on the spot just a bit.) “What has made the biggest impression on you so far in South Carolina?”

  Sven toyed with his napkin as he thought that over. Of course, seeing Gerri again had impressed him the most—it was the primary, albeit secret, reason that he had come. He couldn’t be sure how her parents would react to that—better to leave it unsaid. The fraught racial relations certainly had made a big impression, but that didn’t make for light dinner table conversation with people he hardly knew. He went for the safe topic.

  “The weather. I knew it would be warmer, but I never thought that it would be this warm. This is warmer than most summer days in Juneau. November! Does it ever get cold here?”

  “Oh, yes,” her father replied, “It was down below 50° last week.”

  Sven shook his head, as he looked to Gerri for support. “But still—even that could be a summer day in Juneau. Does it ever freeze in the South?”

  “It froze a couple of times last year,” Gerri offered. “Even in Florida it freezes once in a while.”

  “Cost the farmers millions of dollars when it froze the oranges,” her father added.

  “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know about the South. Can’t they do something about that?”

  “Not much. It’s not like they can move the trees inside.�
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  Sven thought about that for a moment. Gerri, watching his expression, would have been willing to bet that he was coming up with one of his puns, but they were interrupted by the reappearance of the two girls.

  As Sven unpacked the box he had brought, Gerri was as anxious as anyone. When he got the first picture out and displayed it, she smiled happily. He had turned the sketch of her seeing the porpoise into a painting—and it was gorgeous. She wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  “That’s beautiful,” said Olivia. “Gerri, you look so happy.” She gave Gerri a calculating look.

  After Sven had explained the circumstances of the picture, he reached for the remaining one. As he was about to produce it, he paused and looked at Gerri. Yes, he knew that Gerri looked beautiful in the first picture. After all, he had painted what he had seen.

  Yet, in a flash of insight, he realized that he had made a terrible mistake. The second picture was a private picture. It was more intimate and really should have been shown to Gerri alone. Better yet, he should have kept it in Juneau and given it to her when, or if, she came up there. There was nothing improper about it, but Gerri’s mom had been watching him with too much speculation in her eyes. In this moment he knew: it was not that Olivia distrusted him in any generic way, but rather that she distrusted him with Gerri; that she didn’t consider him to be an appropriate suitor. And he, with this picture, was rubbing her nose in the fact that this was his intention.

  He had but a moment for regret. There was so much that he didn’t know about the South—that some innocent banter with a waitress about his girlfriend would offend her boss, that some young teacher would behave totally unprofessionally when he passed her in the hallway, and even that crops could freeze in Florida. And now, most hurtfully, that it wasn’t only whites who could object to a relationship between Gerri and him.