by L. Langdon
But it was too late now. He pulled the second picture out of the box and displayed it hopefully.
Gerri gasped when she saw it. “The ice cave under the glacier,” she murmured. She felt herself flushing, as the others exclaimed over it.
Joetta was too young to completely parse it. “Ooh, it’s even prettier,” she said excitedly.
Marilyn added, “Wow! It makes you look…” ‘sexy’ was what she had been about to say, but she stopped, uncertain of what her parents would say.
Robert added, “Gerri, you certainly look grown.”
Olivia didn’t say anything. She just raised her eyebrows. Unfortunately, that was all too clear to Gerri.
The picture showed Gerri standing in the ice cave, one hand on her hip, looking at Sven. Gerri had to admit that this picture also made her look beautiful. But where the other picture showed the innocent beauty of a joyful young girl, this picture showed the confident beauty of a woman, looking boldly and slightly challengingly at the artist. It was an altogether seductive effect, and if they had been alone, Gerri would have expressed her gratitude appropriately. But they weren’t alone. She didn’t relish the conversation that she knew her mother was planning.
Sure enough, as soon as Sven had left with promise to return tomorrow, Olivia cornered Gerri. “We need to talk.”
Gerri shook her head. “Ma, I can’t talk tonight. I haven’t even looked at the packet yet.” She knew that this was as much about Sven and the second picture as it was about the packet, but she wouldn’t admit that. “And today was an awful day at work.” That was only a slight exaggeration. “As exciting as this is,” she waved the envelope, “I’ll probably fall asleep reading it.” OK, that’s a lie... “Let’s talk later tomorrow after I know better what’s going on.”
Olivia started to open her mouth to insist, but Gerri spoke quickly. “And while I’m reading and sleeping, you should think about where to hang your picture.” Did that remind her that the second one is mine? Even if this doesn’t pan out, I need to get my own place. With that—and with intense relief—Gerri made her escape.
Chapter 32
Alone in her room, Gerri raised her window, snuggled under her covers, and opened the envelope. On top was a letter from Mindy.
Dear Gerri,
It’s exciting to be able to write this, even though I’m so sorry that Mrs. Kallek is not well. OK: business first. The contract enclosed is legit—I checked with someone I know on the School Board. You’ll notice that if you accept this, you’ll be making substantially more than you are now—more than enough to make up for the cost of your travel up here.
Gerri glanced at the contract page and chuckled. Way more… She’d be making over double her current salary. Better yet, she’d be making at least 50% more than Miss Carruthers. Of course, the cost of living was higher…but not that much higher. If she accepted this, she would make sure that the salary got out. Thurman—he can be counted on to blab! She turned back to the letter.
You can stay with me again (I insist!). I’ve already cleaned out that extra room so you won’t have to sleep on the couch. There’s plenty of closet space in there, plus there’s a storage area in the basement, if necessary (I know that teachers have bigger wardrobes than fishermen!).
There is a letter enclosed from Mrs. Kallek in which she explains what kind of arrangement she’s hoping for. I had a chance to talk to her and she really likes you.
There are a couple of other letters enclosed. I asked John Wheeler to write one to give you the ‘black perspective’ (I hope that doesn’t sound racist!). I know I said he can be annoying, but he’s really very nice and I trust his judgment.
The last letter is from a friend of Sven’s, Wally Trager. I don’t know him, but Sven wanted to include it.
Sven didn’t want to write a letter. But I can tell you that he didn’t forget about you. As soon as I told him that you had left a note on his boat, he jumped in his truck and raced down to the harbor. I’m trying to be nice to him as you said I should. It takes some getting used to, but so far he doesn’t bite.
He wouldn’t say anything, but I think he does care for you. Sigh! Remind me, if you come, to tell you about my crappy love life.
Love, and hope to see you soon,
Mindy
Next, she turned next to the letter from Mrs. Kallek.
Dear Gerri,
Perhaps I should say ‘Dear Miss Barton’ but I think of you as Gerri and people seem less formal now than they were in my day.
Mindy Shumacher said that she would explain the broad outline of the offer. I do hope that you are not offended by the restriction in the contract.
With a frown, Gerri went back to the contract. There, at the end where she hadn’t noticed it: “Mrs. Kallek will serve as the liaison between you and the school administration as needed for the purpose of orientation.” She thought about that. It could mean a variety of things—some of them bad. But she had an instinctive trust in Mrs. Kallek, so she would certainly hear her out. She continued with the letter.
… From the school system’s point of view, hiring you is a leap of faith. The administration has had no contact with you at all. I argued vigorously and, ultimately persuasively, that my several conversations with you over the summer were more than the equivalent of a job interview. Their solution was, in a sense, to make you my responsibility.
But I must make a confession. This is the way I want it as well, for the most selfish of reasons. My health is not good. I just don’t have the strength to continue my teaching duties. Yet, I don’t want to retire and spend my remaining days staring at the wall—or worse, at a television set.
My hope is that we can be a team. You will be the teacher—make no mistake about that. I will attend some of your classes and, now and then, share some advice. I think I still have something to offer. My body is rebelling, but my mind is still there.
Even though there are things that I can teach you, I value your ideas as well. I see you as a kindred spirit—you have the same enthusiasm that I like to think that I still retain.
So please consider this offer. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Sincerely,
Helen Kallek
By the time Gerri finished this letter, her eyes were blinking with tears. How sad it was to have your body give out when your mind was still motivated. She felt honored that Mrs. Kallek had such faith in her, and she was determined to justify that faith.
Paradoxically, the restriction in the contract comforted her. As she had scanned through her initial pass of the contract, a corner of her mind had kept saying ‘this is too good to be true—what’s the catch?’ It was still good, but no longer stretched her credulity. She realized that, even without reading the other letters, and even without knowing where she stood with Sven, she wanted to accept this offer.
She picked up the letter from Dr. Wheeler.
Dear Gerri,
Mindy asked me to write about my impressions of Juneau as a place for a black person to live. I understand that this will be one of several letters intended collectively to convince you to come. She is, as you know, very well organized—truly a force of nature and, though she can be exasperating, she’s very hard to resist when she wants something.
Not that I tried to resist in this instance. Juneau has been a nice place to live. The people are generally open-minded. The few racial problems that I’ve encountered usually stem from obliviousness—rarely malice.
I came here to satisfy a ‘work off my med school expenses’ agreement. Now, having satisfied the terms of that agreement, I find myself still here. Some of the friendships I have formed (particularly with Mindy) and the satisfaction I get from serving the outlying villages have kept me from moving away.
It’s true that there are not many black people here. There are some. I’ve been told by those who knew me previously that I should live where there are more. But I think of myself as a colonist in this respect. Shouldn’t black people spread throughout the country, rather
than ceding some areas solely to others?
I’m sure I’ll see you if you do decide to come, since Mindy is our connection. I heard more from Sven about your seamanship talents, and I’m impressed. Sorry for disbelieving you!
Sincerely,
John Wheeler
Gerri laid John Wheeler’s letter down with a smile. He hadn’t said anything to dissuade her from accepting this job. But even more interesting was the dynamic between John and Mindy. Gerri knew that they interacted professionally—some of Wheeler’s medical visits to the outlying villages were coordinated and subsidized by Mindy’s office.
But what intrigued Gerri about their letters was what they said about their personal interactions. Each had described the other in glowing terms, while still expressing annoyance/exasperation with the other. From the moment they had met, Gerri had been aware that Mindy had a fiery personality. And John had shown in their brief contact at the hospital that he was more than capable of making an inartful remark. She could only imagine the sparks that could fly when those two disagreed. With a smile on her face from that image, she turned to the final letter.
Hello Gerri,
I figure I’m the last person who you expected to write. Sven told me about your job opportunity. Mrs. Kallek is a good teacher, though you’d never know it to see my grades. You could do a lot worse than work with her.
This is the Last Frontier (yeah, I know you’ve probably heard that a lot already). It takes a person with grit and guts to survive thrive here. (I knew I shouldn’t of wrote this in ink). You’ve shown me that you have them in spades. No offense, that’s just an expression.
Another reason I’d like to see you come back. Sven is a very self-contained person. That’s the only reason he was able to shake off all of the B.S. that he got from the Schumachers and their friends over the last few years. But he can go too far with that. You seem to bring him out of his shell. I think that’s a good thing for him.
So come on. You know what they say. You’re not a sourdough until you’ve made it through a winter here. You don’t want to be a cheechako all of your life, do you?
Sincerely,
Wally Trager
With all of the reading done, Gerri turned out her light and lay back. Each letter was interesting, and each told her something more about the writer than she had known. Wally, for all of his rough edges, was really imbued with the spirit of the frontier. Or maybe his rough edges went along with that. Either way, Gerri didn’t need his challenge to motivate her. She had already decided to accept this offer.
Unfortunately, this decision came with a lot of complications. She would have to see Mr. Harrison and explain the situation to him. He had stuck his neck out for her, and she owed him that. She would have to go shopping—she didn’t have any clothes that would stand up to what she imagined a Juneau winter would be like. That was problematic, since no store around here would carry such things. She would ask Sven’s advice on that.
Sven: now there was another issue. She still didn’t know where she stood with him. He had greeted her warmly at the high school and, after the initial misunderstanding about Thurman had been resolved, had been very affectionate on the way home. He was on good ‘guest behavior’ through the evening at her parents’ house, so she couldn’t glean anything from that. On the other hand, he took his leave right after the pictures had been presented and didn’t make any attempt to get her alone for a special ‘good night.’
She wasn’t going to let this uncertainty influence her decision, however. This was an exciting opportunity, and she wasn’t going to derail it by playing a flighty, lovesick female. She smiled wryly in the dark. No, she wouldn’t be flighty. The lovesickness she couldn’t help, but she could keep that to herself.
The last complication was telling her family. And judging by the body language at the kitchen table, Olivia would be the biggest objector. She’d save that confrontation for last, when she had gathered as much information as she could.
___
Dressing Saturday morning was easy for Gerri. One dress practically leaped out of the closet at her. It was her favorite dress, even though she had only had a chance to wear it once. It was a bright orange sun dress which fit her perfectly. It was not a dress that she dared to wear to school. It was completely decent, with a very slightly scooped neckline, but it was cut very low in the back. Even Miss Carruthers, who sometimes seemed to dress for the hunt rather than for teaching, wouldn’t wear a dress like this to school.
As for wearing it on social occasions…well, she hadn’t had much of a social life since coming back to South Carolina. And why was that? Well, she decided, most of the friends that had graduated with her had moved to more populous areas to get jobs. The few males that remained didn’t particularly interest her. In fairness, though, they hadn’t exactly been beating down her door. They seemed to think that she was Thurman’s and that their breakup last spring was just a spat. She had no solid evidence for this, but she suspected that Thurman encouraged that view.
As she came out of her reverie, she held up the dress for a final inspection. It was going to be warm again today, so she could get away with wearing it, but her real reason was Sven. Only once had he seen her in a dress and that was at the dance in Pelican. Yesterday didn’t count, since that dress was one of her severe, conservative school dresses. Whatever happened or didn’t happen between them, Gerri wanted him to see her—just once—looking utterly feminine.
Of course, this dress would be to her mother as a red flag is to a bull. But Gerri had her cover story ready.
Her parents were eating in the kitchen. “Daddy, can I borrow the car this morning? I have to go talk to Mr. Harrison.”
Her mother jumped in first. “Are you sure that dress is appropriate? It’s November, after all.”
Gerri looked down, spreading the skirt. “I’m not going to school. And I like this dress. This may be my last chance to wear it until next summer.”
“Does that mean that you’ve decided to go?”
“I think so. The offer is very attractive. The salary is twice what I make now, and it will give me some actual teaching experience. That will make my application for next year more compelling.”
“But how do you know that you’ll like it? It’s a mistake to go flying off just because this S’ven shows up at our door.”
She pronounced Sven as if it had two syllables. Gerri wondered whether she had done that on purpose. She decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “It’s ‘Sven.’ One syllable. It takes a little getting used to.”
“I don’t care. You said that we’d talk about this.”
Talk, yes, but let you decide? No. “I haven’t forgotten that. But I’m still getting information. There’ll be time later, after Sven is gone.”
Her father jumped into the fray. “You may take the car. I wouldn’t want the road dust to get all over that nice dress.” That earned him a dirty look from Olivia, but Gerri fled before she could reopen the argument.
Her talk with Mr. Harrison stretched to an hour, but nothing happened to make her change her mind. He expressed his regrets that she was leaving, but once he saw the contract—and the salary—he didn’t try to make her reconsider. The only request he made was that she give two weeks’ notice. “I hope that you’ll be applying here again next year, and I want them to remember that you behaved completely professionally.”
She readily agreed. As she reflected on her way back home, packing and clothes shopping would take much of the two weeks anyway. As she pulled into the yard, her heart started beating faster. Sven’s rental car was parked there, under the trees.
___
When Sven arrived at Gerri’s house Saturday morning, she wasn’t there. Olivia met him at the door.
“I’m sorry; she’s not here, and I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
Sven got the impression that Olivia would be just as happy if he turned tail and left. But he knew (or hoped?) that Gerri wouldn’t be too long. After all,
she knew he had to leave today. “Do you mind if I look around while I wait? I haven’t seen too many farms.”
“Of course not.” She gestured vaguely toward the barn near the house. Remembering her manners—it wasn’t his fault that he was trouble—she added, “Thank you so much for that picture. Robert is going to hang it in our front room.”
He nodded. “My pleasure.”
As he walked, he tried to memorize some of the scenes for possible paintings, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was too busy thinking about Gerri and his missions. Paramount was his ostensibly primary one—to convince her to accept the job and to facilitate her coming to Juneau. If he couldn’t do that, then his private mission would perforce have failed.
In a sense, it had already failed. Bringing the second picture had been a mistake. And finishing it had delayed him, squeezing his visit to barely a day. On the other hand, there wasn’t much that he could have done under the watchful eye of Gerri’s mother, so maybe his short stay would be for the best. There was no way to reassure Mrs. Barton that his intentions were honorable—the old-fashioned courtship that he desired would have to wait for Juneau.
As he walked past the barn, he heard noises inside. He poked his head in. “Hello?”
Robert Barton came out through an inner door carrying a box. “Good morning.”
“I’m just looking around while I wait for Gerri. Can I help you with that as long as I’m not doing anything?”
It turned out that Mr. Barton was cleaning out a storage room. As they worked, Sven ventured to ask, “Do you know whether she’s decided to accept the offer?”
“Not for sure, but I suspect so. She’s talking to Mr. Harrison now. He’s the one who helped her get her job here.”
Sven was relieved that Mr. Barton seemed less hostile than his wife, but didn’t want to press his luck. He was trying to formulate another question when Mr. Barton continued.
“She promised to talk about it, and I know that Olivia will try to talk her out of it. But Gerri’s a grown woman, much as it bothers Olivia to see that.”
