Glacier Gal

by L. Langdon

  Sven didn’t have the energy to defend himself. And he knew that he didn’t deserve defending. His attempt to appear confident and in control had been an utter flop. How can I be so clumsy with someone I care for so much? He gathered his remaining strength. “I’m sorry. No, I don’t think it’s a joke. Actually, it was a pretty rotten day all around.”

  Wally interjected accusingly, “Why did you let them talk you into coming back in this weather? You don’t need the money.”

  Wally was sort of right, Sven had to admit—silently. Ordinarily, he would have resisted the hunter’s entreaties with ease. He couldn’t explain to Wally that he anticipated shopping for an engagement ring. Not in front of Gerri. Maybe not at all—Wally would probably disapprove. He finally settled for the weak retort, “Good question. It certainly turned out to be a mistake.

  “He was desperate. And he and his friend said that they would do anything they could to help.”

  “Which was about nothing, I’ll bet,” Wally said disgustedly.

  “Pretty much,” Sven admitted.

  “Why did it take you so long to get back?” Gerri tried to ask calmly. She already regretted her outburst—even though Sven had deserved it.

  Sven looked at her warily. Could he redeem himself? Or did she just think it not worth her trouble to excoriate him? He decided to distract her with details. “I had to throttle way down to reduce the spray. The ice was building up too fast. And, of course, we were heading into the wind for much of the trip. I was probably averaging only a couple of knots.” He broke into a spasm of shivering and leaned against the boat to steady himself.

  Gerri was quick to notice. “We need to get you home. You need to warm up and to get some rest.”

  Sven knew that she was right—and he was warmed (figuratively at least) by the fact that she had noticed. But his pride wouldn’t let him give in. “I’m fine.” He gestured back to the boat. “I just need to take my pack up to the truck…”

  Gerri grabbed his elbow. “Oh, no you don’t. Forget the macho stuff. You can get the pack later. And you shouldn’t be driving. I’ll drive you. Mindy’s car is warmer anyway.” Her gruffness was an effective defense against emotion. It helped her fight off the urge to cling to him, seeking tactile reassurance that he was truly safe.

  Any thought that Sven had of protesting further was squelched by his exhaustion. And even more by the fact that Gerri put her arm around his waist to help support him. He would enjoy her touch while he could—and try to forget that it was merely motivated by pity.

  After Gerri assured him that she had the situation in hand, Wally bade them farewell and returned to his boat. He smiled after he was out of sight. He had been prepared to help Sven himself, but he was pleased at how it turned out. Gerri wasn’t letting Sven get away with any of his nonsense. There was more to her than the mild little college girl of last summer. Sven was going to have a handful in her.

  Chapter 38

  Gerri got him home without too much trouble. He stayed awake enough in the car to give her directions and his house wasn’t that far from the boat harbor. Getting him into the house was harder—he was clearly reaching the end of his endurance. With her aid, he got in and collapsed on his bed.

  Gerri considered undressing him, but decided that that would be a bad idea. Holding him around the waist was bad enough. It reminded her all too vividly of the previous summer. No, she would not touch him unnecessarily. She just threw some covers over him and let him sleep.

  While she tried to decide what to do next, she briefly looked around. She liked his house. It was obviously a bachelor’s house, but it was roomy and had a marvelous view of the Juneau city lights and Mt. Juneau in the background. Of course, in the Alaskan winter night, only the silhouette of the mountain was visible. But that was still beautiful, since it was outlined by a brilliant blanket of stars.

  She couldn’t help but notice how neat he kept the house. Definitely not the stereotype of a bachelor. Maybe that stemmed from his experience on his boat, where everything had to be stowed away neatly.

  She would have liked to have explored the house further, but she felt a bit like an intruder. Anything other than the living room, which they passed through upon entering, and his bedroom, which was upstairs, would have to wait for another time.

  She looked in on him about thirty minutes later—still dead to the world. While she watched him, a shiver racked his body. She remembered her own bout with hypothermia. He had lain down with her and shared his warmth. She felt guilty for not returning the favor, but she knew very well how that would turn out. She settled for searching his closets for another blanket which she put over him as well.

  Even though she didn’t trust herself with him, she couldn’t make herself simply leave. With a sigh, she went back to the closet with the blankets and made a bed for herself on his couch. Even though—or perhaps because—it had been such a stressful day, she fell asleep within minutes.

  ___

  Sven awoke momentarily confused. He was in his own bed. The angle of the light coming through the shades told him that it was late morning. He tried moving. Every muscle ached. Then it all came back to him—the nightmare trip yesterday, the late night arrival, and Gerri’s help in getting him home.

  He darted a look to the side. No, she was not there with him—that would have been altogether too much to hope for. Then he realized that he was not so much in his own bed as on it. And fully clothed. A quick stab of disappointment shot through him. What did I expect? Her affections have turned elsewhere. I should be grateful that she was loyal enough to be waiting for me when I got in last night. He wondered idly if Dr. Wheeler would be upset at her for going out. If I were a better man, I would hope he wasn’t…

  A move to throw off the covers sparked a fresh wave of pain. Landlubbers assumed that being at the helm of a boat was easy—just standing (or sitting) and being alert. But in a storm like Sven had just been through, it was a far different matter. Sitting was impossible, and he had to flex his legs constantly to maintain his balance as the boat pitched. He was compelled to do this continuously for about sixteen hours. Add to that, the freezing cold from the open side doors of the pilot house—necessary for visibility with the ice blocking the windows.

  Lying here won’t make it any better. What he needed was a long, hot shower. But first, he would check to see if Gerri had left a note. Groaning, he walked to the door of his room. When he opened the door to the hallway, he was struck by a blissful smell—bacon and something that might be pancakes. As welcome as the smell was, infinitely more welcome was the realization that Gerri was still here.

  He stepped forward eagerly, but then stopped. I’m filthy! I haven’t had a shower in way too long and I still have on yesterday’s clothes. Regardless of the new, more distant relationship with Gerri, he didn’t want her to see him smelling like a pigsty. Before he could creep back into his room, Gerri appeared at the foot of the stairs.

  “How do you feel?” She looked up at him anxiously.

  “Much better, thank you.” He caught another whiff of her cooking, and it somehow destroyed his discretion. “Even if I didn’t already want to marry you, the smell of this breakfast would make me want to.”

  Gerri clamped down firmly on her reaction. He didn’t mean to toy with me… that’s just blarney. Or is it the Irish who use that? “Breakfast will be ready in about ten minutes,” She said briskly. “Is that too soon for you to clean up?”

  He had a brief, horrified thought. Can she smell me from downstairs? Then he dismissed it. She’d be right, after all. “I’ll try.”

  As he showered, he replayed his words to her. Had she been insulted? It was one thing to declare his interest, but an entirely different thing if she was committed to—or interested in—another. Saying the wrong thing seemed to be his norm lately. He would try to gauge her reaction—not that he was doing so well at that, either—and apologize if necessary.

  Gerri watched Sven as he attacked his breakfast. At lea
st he still likes my cooking… She wanted to hear more about his ordeal, but she didn’t want to interrupt. By her analysis, he hadn’t eaten anything in over 24 hours.

  Finally, he paused and leaned back in his chair. Unbidden, he started telling her about his voyage home. As he spoke, she tried to reconstruct it in her mind. She felt a little sympathy for the hunters—even the summer storms that she had been in could have been terrifying for the uninitiated. She picked at the only detail that she could question. “But why couldn’t you just steer by the compass? Then at least you could have had the door closed and let it get warmer in the pilot house.”

  Sven acknowledged her question with a nod and a ghost of a smile. Again, she felt that she had passed some sort of test. “Good question. In most places, we could. But there are magnetic deviations from iron deposits along the route. That screws up the compass.”

  Gerri couldn’t suppress a smile and a rueful shake of her head.

  Sven noticed. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing. It seems as though there are always more things to be learned about this place.”

  “Yes, but you’re an apt pupil.” Sven was on uncertain ground. He wanted to encourage her, but primarily he wanted to get the conversation to a more personal, intimate, level.

  Gerri thought about his words. To her surprise, the subtle dangers of the wilderness didn’t discourage her. She felt challenged by each new thing she learned. Then, she felt the cold splash of reality. All of her experiences and learning were tied to Sven. Her enthusiasm was a reflection of their relationship—their previous relationship. Now she had to guard against that enthusiasm leading her to make foolish decisions.

  She made a show of checking her watch. “I probably should go. I’m glad that you’re safe and I’m glad that you seem to be feeling better.”

  Sven felt the situation spiraling out of his control. I’m not feeling better any more! He had run out of clever ideas. A frontal approach was all he had left. “Is the doctor going to be upset that you stayed the night?”

  That came out of left field! Gerri tried to imagine what he was talking about. Should she have taken him to the hospital? That didn’t make any sense at all. “What doctor? What are you talking about?” She finally asked.

  “Doctor Wheeler.” Sven watched her expression carefully.

  “What has he got to do with anything?”

  Was this a good sign? Or was she merely surprised that he had deduced her relationship. Sven hated that he had to be the one to say it, but… “I thought that you and he…” He trailed to a stop at her astonished expression. “I mean that dinner…” which I was conspicuously not invited to… But Gerri was shaking her head vigorously.

  “No, no. That was…” She stopped hastily. It was not her place to tell Mindy’s secret. “No. That was just a dinner. He and I are not involved at all.” Sven gave her a mildly skeptical look. “And we’re not going to be. I don’t know where you got that idea.” Maybe he feels guilty?

  Sven stared down at his empty plate. This was not the time for him to put his foot in his mouth. But he didn’t know what to say. He abandoned any ideas of subtlety. Looking up at her, he asked, “Does that mean that there still might be hope for me?”

  Gerri glared at him. He was surely toying with her now. “What are you talking about? You were very clear in South Carolina about not being interested.”

  Sven opened his mouth and then closed it again. She had to be talking about their aborted conversation in her yard. Desperately, he tried to figure out how to respond gracefully.

  Seeing Sven hesitate, Gerri’s irritation grew. She had to resist the impulse to slap the table in her anger and frustration. “You’ve forgotten already? I asked you—standing in our front yard—whether…” She trailed to a stop as he raised his hand wearily.

  “That conversation was never finished. Your mother was bearing down on us like a freight train, so I stopped talking.”

  “Are you saying that my mother is big?” Somewhere in the back of her mind, Gerri knew that this was her anger talking—that she was being petty—but she was in no mood to apologize.

  “No, no, no.” Sven stopped for breath. He felt like he was in quicksand. Every step he tried to take sucked his other foot in deeper. He shot her a look that begged for understanding. “That was a figure of speech, ummm, a simile. I was talking about her approach speed and about the determination that I saw in her face. I like your mother, even though she doesn’t like me.”

  “She…never mind.” She took a breath to tamp down her anger. She didn’t want to get sidetracked. She couldn’t imagine what Sven claimed to have been about to say, but she knew that she’d better hear it or she would always wonder about it.

  Sven tried to read her expression. He didn’t see any encouragement. Was there at least a little curiosity? He plunged on. “If someone looked at us from the outside last summer, they might have decided that I was taking advantage of you.”

  “You weren’t,” she snapped. This reminded her of Sven’s misgivings after they first made love. She was tired of them. They struck her as rather patronizing.

  “Once before—with Laura—I was led by the front of my pants, so to speak. I’ve always regretted that. If I had controlled myself, things wouldn’t have turned out so badly.”

  “You mean your relationship would have been stronger?” Gerri was ashamed to have asked that—ashamed that she still wanted to know the answer.

  Sven hesitated. “May I speak in confidence? Will you promise not to tell anybody? Especially not Mindy?”

  Gerri nodded, aware that her heart was beating too fast.

  “I think that Laura and I would have drifted apart, realizing how different we were. There would have been no talk of marriage, but at least we might have parted as friends.”

  Gerri played with her utensils. She felt a need to do something with her hands—and her eyes. “So,” she said tentatively, “You think that we shouldn’t have been intimate so soon? Are you worried about spoiling our friendship?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Pardon my clumsiness; I’ve had long enough to think about this, you’d think I could say it better.” He took a breath and gathered his courage. “I know better now the difference between love and lust. I lusted after Laura. I love you, Gerri. And I want to court you the way you deserve to be courted.”

  Gerri slumped back in her chair, watching him. He didn’t say anything further. She was in shock. This was everything that she had dreamed of hearing. She wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms. And yet…

  Was she ready for this? This was not a school girl crush. It was not a casual summer love affair. This was a grown man who was talking about a serious, possibly permanent, relationship. Sure, her heart wanted to say yes, yes! But she remembered her mother’s words. She gasped. Her mother!

  “Sven,” she said haltingly. “I don’t know what to say. You mean the world to me. But…”

  This sounds like the start of a brush off. “I’m not trying to rush you. We can take our time.”

  “I’d like that. But…” She paused again. This time he waited. It wasn’t a brush off, but whatever she wasn’t saying wasn’t going to be good. As he watched her, he more fully appreciated how young she was. Maybe she wasn’t even capable of making a commitment.

  “Sven,” she studied his expression. Was he showing impatience? Disapproval? She feared that it was about to get worse. “I promised my mother that I wasn’t going to get romantically involved with you.”

  His head jerked back. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  Her hands were involuntarily making washing motions. “She was worried about me. It seemed like an easy way to reassure her, since I thought you weren’t interested anyway.”

  He sat back in his chair. It was almost funny, in a way, but he didn’t feel like laughing. “She disapproves of me.”

  “No,” her eyes widened. “Not you personally. She’s afraid that an interracial relationship w
ill lead to heartbreak. We’d be hated by racist whites, and I’d be ostracized by many blacks.”

  “Why would you be ostracized?”

  Gerri winced. She was having more than her share of uncomfortable conversations about racial relations lately. “Many people—especially those caught up in militancy—would consider me to be consorting with the enemy.”

  Sven sat and regarded her, trying to decide what to say next. He had this gift of saying the wrong thing. But right now, saying the wrong thing could be catastrophic. “So you want to be just friends. Platonic.”

  Gerri seemed even more uncomfortable, if possible. “I don’t want that. It’s just…I’ve never broken a promise—a serious one, anyway—to my mother.”

  He tried to put himself in her shoes. He certainly hadn’t dealt well with his parents, and he was living with the consequences, even today. He heaved a sigh. “OK, I understand that. But how long is this promise good for?”

  “There wasn’t a time limit.”

  “For the rest of your life?”

  Gerri shrugged. “It shouldn’t be. I don’t know.”

  Sven wanted to backtrack. She was young. And he was just making her miserable. “I don’t want you to break your promise if it means that much to you. I’ve certainly been no paragon of virtue in dealing with my parents. I don’t want you to have regrets later. As I said before, I want to court you properly. And that implies not spoiling your relationship with your parents.” And that, he reminded himself silently, meant not pressuring her. Even if he thought this promise of hers was a cockamamie idea.

  Gerri squirmed under his gaze. Oh, how she wished that she hadn’t made that promise. But she had. And she had always tried to be trustworthy—she was proud, maybe too much so, whenever her mother said ‘you’re our good child.’

  Of course, she wasn’t a child any more. But she still liked to think that she was ‘good’ (whatever that meant), even though she hadn’t saved herself for marriage. And ‘good’ people didn’t break promises willy-nilly.