by Langdon, L.
Then there was the elephant in the room. Sven. Gerri smiled at that metaphor, given his size. But though he might be as strong as an elephant, he was much, much more handsome. Maybe not to a female elephant, but certainly to Gerri. In a simpler world, nothing would have made Gerri happier than to settle down with him and raise a family. But the world of 1970 was anything but simple.
The friends that she corresponded with told her stories of the triumphs and agonies of the Civil Rights movement. She still had access to the major news developments—yes, Juneau had a newspaper. But her friends’ tales lent immediacy to it all.
She had joked to two of them (at least they thought it was a joke) that maybe she would stay in Alaska and marry some ‘bearded Scandinavian.’ One friend had jokingly warned her about jungle fever, and the other had replied in highly scandalized tones that she ‘shouldn’t forsake the movement’ and that ‘everyone was needed.’
All of this reminded her of her mother’s objections (now delivered in a subtle subtext through Marilyn). Gerri really would be burning her bridges by staying and marrying Sven. Heaven knew she loved him. She had stopped trying to kid herself about that after he came back from that terrifying hunting trip. But would the sweet cream of love curdle in the acid bath of rejection by her friends and family? She had to chuckle at that tortured prose. Now she could appreciate why lovers resorted to poetry. Too bad she couldn’t share it with Sharon Ingram, but it was just too personal, too revealing.
Her thoughts circled back to Sven and the notion of a bearded Scandinavian. He looked delicious in a beard. He didn’t wear one regularly, but he let one grow when he was fishing. She had convinced him to let his hair grow longer, but she hadn’t mentioned his making his beard permanent. It was bad enough to feel the weight of obligations from her family and friends back home. She didn’t want Sven to change his life for her, only to have her leave anyway.
And Sven wasn’t making this any easier. Thinking about her friend’s ‘jungle fever’ remark one day had led Gerri to impulsively ask Sven, “What do you really see when you look at me?” She should have known that that was a bad idea. He was silent for so long that she wanted to take the question back.
“You don’t have to answer that,” she finally said. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I was just curious.”
“I want to answer. I just don’t want to mess up my answer. It’s a complicated question.”
Suddenly, she was convinced that she really didn’t want to hear his answer, because it might destroy her illusions. Before she could think of a graceful way to dissuade him, he had started talking.
“I see you in a lot of different ways. As a lover, I see you as a sensual, passionate woman. And one who utterly destroys the notion that a woman can’t be sexy, fit, and strong at the same time.
“As a friend, I see you as a solid rock. Someone who’s a pleasure to be around. Someone on whom I can always depend, and whom I would trust with my life—and have.” He quirked a brief smile as they both remembered his appendicitis. Gerri’s heart was pounding already, but he was not done.
“As a man passing you on the street, I see an arresting woman. Someone whose smile, once seen, makes a guy say silly things to try to bring it back. And the dimples…” He smiled and shook his head in mock resignation.
“As another human being observing you, I see someone who is bright, inquisitive, and determined to live a good life.
“As an artist, I see a woman who’s a pleasure to paint. Your beauty shines through and your dark complexion gives extra drama to your eyes and your smile.”
He finally stopped and looked at her expectantly. She could barely reply. She just shook her head and murmured, “Goodness, Sven!”
No, that didn’t make her departure any easier. Be careful what you ask for…
___
That was a month ago. Now, at the end of April, the end of the school year was only weeks away. She couldn’t put off her private day of reckoning much longer. And no matter what she did, she would disappoint someone terribly. Her relationship with Sven was growing more strained. It seemed as though he was pulling away from her in anticipation of her departure.
Gerri wanted to reassure him, but she could not. She decided that, at the very least, she wanted to be remembered by him as the best first mate that he’d ever had. As she was getting dressed, she smiled in the mirror. He had been so careful to avoid a word play on ‘first mate,’ even though it must have been tempting. He, in his shy, courtly way, wouldn’t have wanted to take a chance on offending her. Not only would she not have been offended, but, in her own mind, she embraced it: Sven had been her first mate, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Which explained—after a fashion—the care with which she dressed today. She had promised to help him do some work on the Glacier Gal. Not only did she want to help him—possibly one last time—but she wanted to spend one more day on the boat that she’d come to love.
She looked in the mirror again. There. That will have to do. Her checklist was complete: nappy hair, baggy sweatshirt, and sweatpants. To honor the almost-full-year since she had first walked down the float and met Sven, she had decided to recreate that look. The only place where she drew the line was the breast band. There was no point in hiding her breasts—Sven knew them well. Also, the band was uncomfortable.
“How do I look?”
Mindy thought it was hilarious. “You certainly have an interesting notion of romance. You be sure and tell me what he says.” Belatedly, she added, “You look just like you did a year ago. Except…” She looked closer. “You’re not wearing the band. Good. You don’t want to discourage him completely.”
It was a clear day. A good omen, maybe? As Gerri walked to the boat harbor, she found herself enjoying the weather and the walk. She lost herself in reminiscence and didn’t hear the car until it was passing her. She had just remembered the car which had passed her last year when this one screeched to a stop and then backed up to where Gerri was. It, too, was filled with teenage boys. This time, however, they were familiar.
The driver spoke up. “Hi, Miss Barton. Do you want a ride?”
Someone from the back seat answered for her. “No. Remember, she likes to walk.”
“You’re, ummm…dressed so casually, I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“I’m going to be painting today. Can’t wear anything that can’t get paint on it.”
With several farewells from various points in the car, they rumbled off. Gerri suppressed her chuckle until they were out of sight. They had been so diplomatic in commenting on her clothing and, thank goodness, they hadn’t remarked on her hair at all.
Finally, she was there. Sven had once said, in an intimate moment, “I didn’t know it before, but I must have been prescient when I named the boat. You’re the true glacier gal”. He was in shirtsleeves, even on this cool day, and Gerri just watched him for a minute as he worked on deck. Her heart filled and her breath caught in her throat. Her man and her namesake boat. She loved them both. As much as she wanted this moment to last, it couldn’t. She raised her voice. “Excuse me, Sir.”
Sven straightened up slowly and looked her over. Finally, a small smile touched the corners of his mouth. “It’s been quite a year, hasn’t it?”
Gerri stepped aboard, struck with a feeling of insecurity at his words. He obviously recognized her ‘costume.’ Was he simply acknowledging that? Or was he acknowledging that the year—and their time—was over? She said, in as upbeat a tone as she could muster, “Yes, it has. The best year of my life.”
Sven nodded. “Mine, too.” But he turned back to his work.
Feeling a little melancholy, she turned toward the cabin. “I’ll get started cleaning up inside.”
Sven watched her disappear. He felt like two cents. This waiting was hard. But he knew that Gerri wasn’t being intentionally cruel. In fact, it was probably harder on her than on anyone else. She didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew that she was
being pulled in all directions. Her mother, of course, was a prime manipulator, but Gerri had dropped hints that others—friends from school, perhaps—were joining in the chorus.
His guilt spiked again as he thought of Olivia Barton. It wasn’t entirely fair to think of her as a manipulator. Her tactics were manipulative, but that was her only choice, as she saw it. Her motivation was, in large part, a completely sincere concern—no, better to call it a fear—for the welfare of her daughter.
Sven was a long way from understanding this, but the more he delved into his new ‘black experience’ library, the more he was forced to admit that practically any degree of paranoia on her part was reasonable.
His ruminations were interrupted by a shout. “Sven!”
He couldn’t hide his astonishment. Mindy? He couldn’t remember ever seeing her at the boat harbor. And she was running towards him. “Where’s Gerri? I need to talk to her.”
He started to gesture toward the cabin, but Gerri appeared in the doorway.
“Gerri.” Mindy paused to catch her breath. “Your brother just called.”
Gerri erupted in a wide smile; the first that Sven had seen for quite a while. “Wonderful. He was supposed to get back into the country next week. I guess he’s early. Did he say he’s in Seattle? Did you get his number? I’ll call him back.”
“No, no. He didn’t leave a number. He’s at the airport.”
That stopped Gerri cold. “The Juneau airport?”
“Yes. He needs a ride. He said he’ll take a cab if you want him to, but he doesn’t know where to tell them to go.” She hesitated. “Do you want me to pick him up? John is waiting for me, but I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Gerri took a deep breath. “No, I’ll pick him up.” She turned to Sven, but he spoke first.
“Take my truck.”
“Thank you, Sven.” She was already off the boat and walking briskly along the float, with Mindy hurrying to keep up.
Sven watched as she disappeared. This was not good news. Olivia was undoubtedly bringing in the backup troops to ensure that Gerri returned home. And her hurried, rather formal thanks—that disturbed him as well. She didn’t have to thank him. Whatever was his was hers. Her doing so was a symptom of the increasing distance between them.
Still, if this was the endgame, then he would at least welcome the end of the grinding uncertainty.
Chapter 43
As she drove to the airport, Gerri’s stomach became knotted. She was excited to see Rich—and so relieved that he had returned safely from Vietnam. But she couldn’t help but be suspicious. How did he get Mindy’s phone number? Her mother’s fingerprints were all over this—as if Gerri needed more pressure on her than she already had.
After parking the truck, she paused to make a quick, largely futile attempt to put her hair to rights, then, taking a deep breath, she trotted into the terminal.
Her misgivings were buried at the first sight of him. She gave him a gigantic hug and muttered some words of joy. Then she pulled back and looked at him more closely. He had worn his dress uniform for his flight. “Oh Rich, you look wonderful. You’re all right? No injuries?”
“Nothing serious. A few dings here and there.” She frowned at that. “Really,” he laughed, “I’m fine.”
“How long can you stay?”
“I have only a few days.” With that reminder, he moved to pick up his luggage. “I guess we’d better get moving.”
Outside, he glanced from her to the truck with an amused expression. “Is that yours? Between the truck and your outfit, it looks like you’re trying to act like you’re still on the farm.”
“No, it’s Sven’s. I borrowed it. And the old clothes are because we were getting ready to work on his boat.” To Gerri’s relief, Rich hadn’t commented on her nappy hair. That would have been much harder to explain.
Rich’s smile dimmed a bit. “Ahhh. The famous Sven. Am I going to get to meet him?”
“Of course. I’ll take you straight to the boat harbor.”
She peppered him with questions about Vietnam as they drove. As he talked, she tried to plan the next few days. Would Sven be willing to put Rich up? She decided to ask him privately as soon as she had the chance. Then she had a worse thought. She had been circumspect about staying at Sven’s, but not inside the house. There would be numerous traces of her occupancy there. She wasn’t ashamed of that, but it wasn’t something that she wanted to discuss with her brother.
She parked at the small parking area for the boat harbor. Rich got out of the truck and took a puzzled look around. Gerri gestured. “That’s the boat harbor. Let’s take your luggage with us.” Walking down the boat harbor ramp, Gerri found herself explaining the large tide swing to Rich and how she had made a trigonometry assignment out of it. Does he even care? Am I giddy, or am I just nervous?
She needn’t have worried about Sven. He was, considering his quiet nature, practically effusive in his hospitality. When he saw them walking toward the boat, he smiled his most endearing smile (Rich couldn’t be expected to appreciate it, but Gerri certainly did).
“I’m certainly happy to meet you, Rich. I’ve heard a lot about you. Gerri, if you haven’t made other plans, I insist that Rich stay with me. I have plenty of space and it’s no inconvenience.”
“That would be great.” Rich looked at Gerri for her assent. He certainly didn’t have a lot of hotel money in his budget. Also, Olivia’s briefing had indicated that Gerri was not logical on the subject of Sven, so Rich welcomed the chance to observe him—and question him—more closely.
“Thank you, Sven,” she said enthusiastically. “Are you sure that your house is, uhh, ready for a visitor?” She cast what she hoped was a significant look at him. Sven grinned at her with the slightest of winks—fortunately on the side away from Rich. Thank heavens, he understands…
“I keep my house pretty shipshape, but I’ll give it a quick onceover before you get there.”
Before…? Gerri’s look of puzzlement was obvious.
“I’d like to ask you a favor,” Sven explained. “I have a couple of errands to run and I’ll swing by the house to check on everything. Would you mind fueling up the Gal while I take care of that other stuff? I’m getting ready for a short shakedown cruise, and I thought we could use that to show Rich a bit of our beautiful country.”
Gerri blinked. She knew that Sven trusted her to operate the Glacier Gal, but, with the exception of his appendicitis attack, he had always been there with her. Some part of her realized that Sven was trying to send a message to Rich. “Sure,” she said as nonchalantly as possible. “Rich, would you like that?”
“Whatever you say, uhhh…” He looked around. “Where’s the fuel?”
Gerri laughed. “About ten minutes that way.” She gestured. “On the other side of town. I’ll show you how pretty the town is from the water. You’ll like it.”
Gerri enjoyed herself immensely on the jaunt across the harbor to the Union Oil dock. It was such a good feeling to have Rich with her, safe and sound. She took an inordinate amount of pride in pointing out the sights—showing off this town, which was, for the time being, hers. She pulled out Sven’s binoculars to point out things such as landmarks. She even pointed out Sven’s house. It was partially hidden by the trees on his lot. She also noted—but didn’t point out—that Sven’s truck was parked at the house. That was good. He had apparently understood her coded message to ‘sanitize’ the house—removing any sign of Gerri’s occupancy—and had wasted no time getting there.
But the best part of the trip for Gerri was the look on Rich’s face when she matter-of-factly started the engine, checked that it was running smoothly, untied the lines, and eased out of the boat harbor. This was her big brother, after all. Always older and more knowledgeable than she. Now he wasn’t even trying to hide his amazement at her relaxed competence and the casual trust that Sven had placed in her.
“So he just lets you take the boat. Just like that?”
“Why not? I can handle it. In fact, I’m good at it.”
“It’s a big boat for just one person.”
“You mean for a woman.” She laughed as she said it, because the last thing she wanted was to start an argument over something silly. She had a feeling that there would be enough contention once he got around to making their mother’s pitch—which she was sure he would do any minute. “Wait until you meet my roommate, Mindy,” she grinned. “She’s a real Women’s Libber. She’d give you an earful if she thought you were suggesting that.”
“Is she the woman who answered the phone?” Gerri nodded and Rich grinned ruefully. “I’ll be careful.”
As they approached the fuel dock, Gerri was pleased to see that they were the only customers. She didn’t feel like waiting today. Paul Pruitt, the attendant, was out of his shack to help tie her up as she came alongside.
“Just you today?” He greeted her as she came out of the cabin.
“Sven’s running some errands.” Paul was looking at Rich with frank curiosity. “I got a nice surprise today. Paul, this is my brother, Rich Barton. He’s just back from Vietnam. Rich, this is Paul Pruitt. His daughter’s in one of my classes.”
The two men chatted as Paul fueled the boat. They were comparing services—apparently Paul had served in Korea. When the tank was full and Paul was writing up the receipt, Gerri remembered something else.
“Paul, ask Barbara to remind me on Monday that I have a book for her.”
Paul grinned wryly. “Another assignment? She’ll love that.”
Gerri shook her head, untied the boat, and tossed the line back to Paul. “No, not at all. It’s a book on music and mathematics. It’s just a little gift because she’s improved so much.”
“I’ll tell her. And thank you for working with her.” He was talking loudly now, as the boat drifted away from the dock. Gerri saluted him and went into the pilot house to fire up the engine.
Rich pulled a camera from his coat pocket and started fiddling with it. “I just bought this at the PX and I’m still learning how to use it.” He took a few shots of the town and then turned to Gerri. “I’d like to take some pictures of you.”
