Glacier Gal

by Langdon, L.

  And then there was that business with Knox. Wally had told him about it during one of his visits. Wally had been at such great pains to assure Sven that Knox hadn’t even been able to touch her and that his captain had shipped him south for punishment. Wally, who usually spoke his mind and let the chips fall where they may, was obviously afraid that Sven would go looking for Knox with murder on his mind. Maybe he would have. He certainly would have been tempted.

  There too, he knew rationally that it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help being reminded of Laura’s death. In both cases, he had failed as a protector. At least Gerri had survived her encounter with Knox unscathed. A reluctant smile curled his lips as he remembered Wally’s description—Gerri had given a good account of herself and Sven was proud of her. But she shouldn’t have had to.

  He guessed that she wasn’t angry with him. Dr. Wheeler had told him that she had visited the hospital. But even that was a source of frustration. When Sven had asked the doctor what she said, he had shrugged. “We only talked for a few minutes. I was busy and she was getting ready to leave town.” He had probably read Sven’s desolate expression, because he added, “She was thinking of leaving you a note. I don’t know if she actually did. You can check with the nurses. I told her to leave it with them.”

  And he did check. Several times, until they were sick of hearing him. None of them remembered or could find a note. Gerri had evidently decided against it.

  So all he had to do now was to wait. The doctor told Sven to stay in town for at least a week so he could watch him. Sven had nowhere to go anyway; the fishing season was just about over. Wally had reported to him that Gerri had left the boat looking shipshape. Another smile crept to his face. Wally had extolled Gerri’s nautical skills in bringing the boat in and docking it solo. Who would have believed three months ago that Wally would turn into her biggest booster?

  Sven mapped the next few weeks in his head. He had a standing arrangement with a hunting guide in Seattle to charter the Glacier Gal during the hunting season. That was a good source of extra money—not that he was hurting. He was frugal by nature, and he always tried to keep a generous reserve—major repairs on the Glacier Gal could come unexpectedly, after all.

  But that wouldn’t be for a month or more. In the meantime, Sven could at least look forward to his painting. In particular, he had several sketches of Gerri that he wanted to turn into paintings. These would not be sold in Taku Books. They were too private.

  Eventually, he would go to the harbor and check on the boat. Not now. Everything on the boat would remind him of Gerri. Maybe it would be easier in a few weeks.

  Chapter 28

  Gerri sat in the school cafeteria eating her lunch, pondering it as she did so. It was clear that this white—no, make that integrated—school had a bigger food budget than her high school had had. But, oddly, the food didn’t taste as good. Of course, Gerri’s school cafeteria had been run by Miss Josephine, a treasure of a cook who seemed, day after day, to whip up tasty meals, even from ingredients of doubtful provenance.

  Gerri wondered what had become of her. Miss Josephine clearly wasn’t running this kitchen, and, though it seemed that she had been around forever, she was probably too young to draw Social Security. She sighed. Nobody—none of the blacks anyway—wanted to go back to segregated schools, but the transition wasn’t always pleasant either.

  Speaking of ‘not pleasant,’ her duties on this first day of school were mind numbing. To be sure, she would survive. She would do her best to be useful and cheerful; all of the time looking for an opportunity to teach math, even if it was only tutoring.

  “May I join you?”

  Gerri turned around and her head involuntarily jerked in surprise. “Thurman? What are you doing here?” Then she remembered her manners. Any lingering resentment she had felt for him was ancient history. “Be my guest.” She gestured to the empty seat across from her.

  He put his tray on the table and sat. “Same as you. I’m a teacher’s aide.”

  “So you got your degree?”

  “Yes. Summer school.”

  Gerri nodded. She wondered what had become of his plans to go to New York and what had become of Carlotta, but she wasn’t supposed to know about them, so she couldn’t ask. She didn’t wonder that much, she realized in relief.

  Thurman shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Gerri, I want to apologize for the things I said last spring. I was upset.”

  A trifling apology was better than none. She nodded once, slowly. “Apology accepted. I did the right thing, but I didn’t pick the best time to do it.”

  Thurman was happy to leave that topic. “I worked hard in that summer course, but it was worth it. Or,” he looked around the cafeteria, “it will be worth it when they offer me a true teaching job.”

  Another sore subject for Gerri. She let her eyes slide over him looking for another line of conversation. “You cut your hair. I’m surprised.”

  Thurman gave her a half-smile-half-wince. “I was told quietly that they wouldn’t hire me with the big ‘fro.”

  “Mr. Harrison?”

  “Yes.” He looked Gerri over. “You haven’t changed. Same hairdo and everything.” He chuckled. “You’ll always be the same, I guess.”

  Gerri wanted to glare at him. This sounded too much like the nonsense that she had overheard him spewing last Spring: Gerri is dull; Gerri has no sense of adventure; and so on. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that it hurt.

  “So what did you do this summer? Help on your parent’s farm? I didn’t see you around school.”

  This is almost too easy… Gerri smiled sweetly. “I worked as a commercial fisherman in Southeast Alaska.”

  Thurman looked at her blankly for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. “That was good. Your delivery was perfect. You really had me going for a few seconds there.”

  Gerri just looked at him.

  He frowned, uncomfortable that she was stringing the joke out. He tried again. “It’s OK; I didn’t go anywhere either.”

  Gerri had half a mind to leave him with his assumptions. She took another bite of her lunch. But she decided that she’d rather rub his nose in his mistake. She put her fork down and reached into her purse. She started to hand him her checkbook, but she didn’t want him looking at her bank balance. Instead, she tore off a blank check and handed it to him.

  He looked at it blankly. Then she could see it hit him as his eyes widened. “Is this real?”

  She shot him a disgusted look. “Do you think that I’d spend money to get fake checks made?”

  “It’s just… I never thought…”

  “I guess you didn’t know me as well as you thought you did.” Just then, the bell rang for the end of the lunch period. Gerri stood up. When Thurman made no move to hand her back her check, she reached out her hand. “I need that back. I’ll be using it one of these days.”

  Thurman stood with her as he fumbled for something to say. “That’s unbelievable. I’d like to hear all about it someday.”

  Gerri gave him a casual nod as she turned to go. She was in no hurry. She’d achieved her purpose. My revenge? She wondered if she had been tacky, but decided that she didn’t care.

  ___

  As the weeks wore on, Gerri gradually learned which teachers to avoid. By her rough measure, about 20% of the white teachers truly wanted integration to fail. Another 20% were sympathetic—albeit discretely—and wanted it to succeed. The remaining 60% were in the middle. They weren’t necessarily happy about the new situation, but they were professional and worked hard to make it succeed in their classrooms.

  She shared her estimates with Thurman at lunch one day, which was probably a mistake. He just laughed. “Trust you to reduce everything to numbers.” Then he leaned forward and confided quietly, “I think they all want it to fail. Some are just better at hiding it than others.”

  Gerri just shrugged. Maybe he was right, but she would give them the benefit of the
doubt. Thurman had a higher level of hostility than she—nothing new there. Idly, she wondered whether her summer in Alaska had made her more willing to trust. She wasn’t naïve—she hadn’t, and wouldn’t, let her guard down. Even if they offered her a real teacher’s job, she wouldn’t lose her caution.

  As the days stretched on, Thurman frequently joined her for lunch. He was constantly asking for more details about her summer. He appeared to have become fascinated by the ‘new’ Gerri, to the point that she half expected him to ask her out again. What would she say if he did? Probably ‘no,’ unless her life became unbearably boring.

  She had examined her feelings carefully and concluded that Thurman didn’t really attract her now. Could an attraction grow back? She didn’t know, but she was not eager to work on that.

  There were also some practical reasons to steer clear of him. His apology had been carefully limited. He hadn’t mentioned Carlotta at all. Another reason was on Gerri’s end—she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Sven. Even though she was angry with him.

  He hadn’t written her. Not even once. Not even some trifling little note to tell her that he was OK. She had exchanged several letters with Mindy—the first had arrived within a few days of her return home. She had even gotten a letter from Mrs. Kallek—confessing jokingly that she had used one of Gerri’s examples in her trig class.

  But nothing from Sven. Gerri had even swallowed her pride: in her last letter to Mindy, she asked about Sven and admitted that he had not seen fit to write.

  ___

  Sven was lost in thought as he put the sacks of groceries in his truck. As she rang up his food, the woman at the checkout had given him a funny look. It was not his usual fare—his basket including fresh vegetables and even a couple of small jars of spices. He still ate at the Kash Café more often than not, but he had decided to experiment a little in his own kitchen.

  He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but he missed Gerri’s cooking. Of course, he missed everything about her, but with the cooking he had hoped that he could replicate at least some of her dishes. He had even bought a cookbook. As he had described it to Rosie Craig, “the most elementary one you have.” Gerri had never used a cookbook on the boat, but Sven wasn’t foolish enough to think that he would even know where to start without one.

  Now, in the late October rain, he was starting to reconsider. Maybe this was a foolish idea, even if he did use a cookbook. He thought again of Gerri. She had not been afraid to learn new things. He could at least give the same effort. If he succeeded, he would feel a bit closer to her memory. If he failed, nobody would know about it but him.

  As he placed the last of the groceries, he heard an angry voice behind him. “Why haven’t you written Gerri a letter?”

  He turned around and saw Mindy, looking irritated. He suppressed a groan. He hadn’t seen her since Gerri left, and he certainly hadn’t missed being the focus of her anger. “I don’t have her address,” he said, and added with forced casualness, “And I doubt that she is terribly anxious to hear from me.”

  Mindy glared at him. “Men are so stupid. She gave you her address in the note she left you.”

  For a moment, Sven’s self-composure slipped and Mindy could see the raw need in his face. “Note? I never found a note. And I asked the nurses at the hospital. They couldn’t find one either.”

  “She didn’t leave it at the hospital. She left it on your boat. I know, because I took her to the airport, and she dropped it off on the way.” She spoke less harshly though, because his pain was evident.

  Sven slammed the door to his truck. He needed to get to the Glacier Gal right now. He would tear the boat apart, if necessary, to find this note. He wondered if he owed Mindy the courtesy of excusing himself. “I’ll look again,” he said gruffly as he circled to the driver’s side.

  His impatience was obvious—he was oozing anxiety from every pore. “Wait,” Mindy implored. Then she gave up. She needed his help, but nothing would induce him to stay and talk right now. “I need to talk to you. Something else has come up.”

  Sven paused with his hand on the door handle. What was Mindy up to now? His curiosity outweighed his caution. “Can you come to the Kash Café?”

  “Kash Café? I’ve never…” This was clearly out of Mindy’s comfort zone. He watched as she pursed her lips. “Yes, I can come. What time?”

  They agreed upon a time, and Sven set off for the boat harbor, trying not to look as if he was going to a fire.

  As he drove, he puzzled over Mindy’s behavior. She had been hostile—that was normal. But her hostility seemed focused. She was angry at him for not writing rather than being angry at him for his very existence. And this ‘we need to talk’ business. He had no idea what that could be about. Important enough to her to get her to come to the Kash Café. All of this set off his alarm bells, but he would listen to her. If it was anything concerning Gerri, he didn’t dare ignore it. He was simply too hungry for any scrap of news about her.

  After a brief search, Sven found the envelope. Gerri had left it under the pillow on his bed. There was an intimacy to that placement that excited him more than he wanted to admit. He stared at the envelope in his hand for a moment, savoring the anticipation and, frankly, a little bit apprehensive about what it might say.

  Then he couldn’t wait any longer. He tore it open. Sure enough, her address was prominently placed at the top. He eagerly read what followed.

  Dear Sven,

  I hope that you are well now. Dr. Wheeler assured me that if you were careful, you should be as good as new in a few weeks. And I hope you’re being careful! If you are not, you’ll have to answer to me (smile).

  I cannot possibly find words to express my thanks to you. Thanks to your kindness and friendship, the summer was wonderful in every way. I’ll never forget it (or you) for as long as I live.

  You and Mindy both have been true friends. Someday, I hope the two of you will be on better terms—it couldn’t happen to a pair of nicer people.

  I’m putting this letter where you will find it, but no one else is likely to see it. I know that you leave your boat unlocked. WRITE ME! My address is at the top (where you can’t miss it). No excuses!

  Your favorite (I hope) mutineer,

  Gerri

  After he had read her letter, Sven just sat there—grinning like a fool, he realized—but he didn’t care. Then his grin faded as he went through the letter again, trying to read between the lines. It was definitely an affectionate letter. That made him feel good. The underlining of the word ‘every’ seemed to be a subtle reference to their brief affair. Or was he reading in it what he wanted to see? There was no mention of love, but that would be asking too much.

  More pessimistically, there was nothing there that suggested a change in her views—she probably still thought of him as part of her adventure. In fact, she had lumped Mindy and him together—and gave no hint that she expected to see either of them again.

  Of course he would write her. He would start tonight. What to write was a harder problem. He would apologize for his delay in writing; that was the easy part. He would be affectionate, of course. But he wanted to say more. He sighed. Truth be told, he was afraid that he had fallen in love with her. And while he wouldn’t use that word, he wanted her to know the depth of his feelings and, ideally, to respond in kind.

  But he didn’t know how to put that into a letter. More accurately, he didn’t have the nerve to put that into a letter. Their agreement, after all, was that theirs was a casual, summer affair. He wanted to change that. But it was one thing to be talking to her—he could ease into the subject, abandoning it if he sensed that she was not receptive. Laying it all out in a letter was different. Once said, those things couldn’t be unsaid, and he didn’t want to scare her off.

  What he did want was for Gerri to remain in his life. Any talk about love could come later. So how to achieve this minimal goal? It had seemed easier prior to his appendicitis. Have a memorable last night together, kee
p in contact through a correspondence… He had even imagined that he might wangle an invitation to visit her. Then, during this visit he would ask her to come up next summer and work for him on the Glacier Gal. No, make that work with him. She felt more like a partner than an employee.

  But next summer was a long time from now. By then, she might be in another relationship. He remembered her saying something about settling down. With all of her good qualities, some guy was sure to snap her up.

  There was an irony here. Back when he had dated Laura, his mind had never gotten beyond sex. When she had started acting available, he thought he was the luckiest guy in high school. Many of his classmates made their envy obvious. Other qualities—or a long term relationship—simply weren’t on his radar. Then, she became pregnant. After that, it was pointless to think about her other qualities—he was simply determined to do the right thing.

  Gerri, on the other hand, sort of snuck up on him. The sexual attraction was just as intense. In fact, it was more so. Gerri’s affectionate enthusiasm in bed provided an important extra layer to the experience. For the first time, Sven understood the difference between having sex and making love.

  But Gerri’s other qualities cemented the deal for him. She was smart, always trying to be helpful without looking for credit, and she was even tempered. In fact, Sven had to think hard to come up with a time when she was genuinely angry with him—for more than a few minutes, anyway.

  And there had been a few times when he deserved it. He remembered once when she was scribbling in that math journal of hers. The visibility that day was terrific, and he had pointed out a distant hill that was just visible over the horizon. That set her off. She had grabbed a piece of paper and started some calculations. Shortly, she had announced proudly that, knowing the earth’s curvature, she could figure out the height of the hill if she knew its distance and vice versa. She tried to show him her calculations, but when she started talking about cosines, he had scoffed.