Catch Me if Yukon

by Maddy Hunter

  A wave of panic washed over me.

  Oh my god. They could all die.

  As I was about to run back into the building for help, I noticed a slight glimmer in the haze—a far-off corona of light that pierced the fog like a lighthouse beacon and seemed to be floating in my direction.

  “Etienne?” I shouted again.

  “Emily!” It was Etienne’s voice, muffled as if by cotton batting and seeming to radiate from every direction, but his voice nonetheless.

  Relief surged through me. “You’re headed straight toward me, sweetie!” At least I thought he was. “Keep walking. You’re almost here.”

  “I’m not alone.”

  The corona of light drew closer, and as it did, I noticed another, and another, until it seemed he was dragging a string of Christmas tree lights behind him.

  “Almost there,” his voice rang out. “Don’t let go of your selfie sticks until I tell you.”

  I inched my way across the observation deck and down the stairs, then tapped the flashlight icon on my phone and aimed the beam outward.

  Etienne appeared like an apparition out of the mist, one hand holding his cell phone, the other locked onto the selfie-stick of the person behind him, guiding him forward. “Keep moving,” he instructed as a whole conga line of people emerged from the haze, each one clinging to the selfie stick of the person in front of and behind them like links in a chain. “Gather around Emily so we can count heads.”

  “Isn’t this somethin’?” Nana scampered over to me in her size 5 sneakers. “The clouds just come down from the sky and swallowed us up. Too bad we can’t see nuthin’ like this back home.”

  Well, we probably could, but the closest thing Iowa had to a 2,300-foot mountain was Lars Bakke’s grain elevator.

  “I started out with fourteen,” affirmed Etienne. “Have we lost anyone along the way?” As he began counting heads, a trill of both relief and excitement swept over the group as they acknowledged their good fortune to have escaped with their lives on the way back.

  “One false step and it could have been over the edge for all of us,” Alice marveled in a breathless rush. “Down the mountain, into the valley, and splat.”

  “Let’s hear it for Etienne,” urged Lucille. “The man who saved our bacon!”

  Clapping. Cheers. Whistles.

  “How would we have gotten back if Etienne hadn’t found us?” asked Grace Stolee.

  “We would have had to wait until the fog lifted,” said Tilly.

  “We couldn’t have done that,” argued Dick Teig. “We would’ve been late for dinner.”

  “We’re already late for dinner,” cried Margi. “Look at the time!”

  “Fourteen,” announced Etienne. “All guests accounted for.”

  Reverting to full panic mode, the gang swarmed up the stairs and across the deck like locusts descending on a field of corn.

  “All the good seats are probably gone by now,” lamented Helen Teig as they stampeded into the building amid a rumble of whines, groans, and muttering. And in a swirl of mist, they were gone.

  “There’s one silver lining to fog that’s thick as pea soup,” I quipped as I wrapped my arms around Etienne’s waist. “At least there won’t be any fighting over who gets the window seats at dinner tonight.” I gave him a bone-crushing squeeze and held him close. “I was so worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry, bella.” He pressed his lips to the crown of my head. “The conditions changed so quickly.”

  “I’ll never understand how you found your way back in this murk.”

  He held up his phone. “GPS enhanced by topographical maps. I downloaded a few so-called lifesaving apps from the National Geographic Society before we left.”

  Which made me feel a twinge guilty about cancelling my subscription to their magazine a decade ago.

  “My hunch was right about the Dicks,” he continued. “They lasted less than two minutes in the museum before leaving to search out the avalanche gun, but since I’d arrived first, I was able to monitor them…until the conditions started to deteriorate. So the three of us decided to trek over to the glacier, which was rather fortuitous because the group was dithering about what course of action to take—either stay where they were until conditions improved or head back to the terminal and risk tumbling down the mountainside. So they were inching toward major gridlock.”

  “How come they didn’t just take a vote?”

  “Osmond was in the museum. They were afraid that taking a vote without him would be unethical.”

  “Of course they would.” I tossed my head back and laughed. “Is that when you stepped in with your conga-line selfie-stick solution?”

  “It seemed the only way to have them hold onto each other while using the flashlights on their phones at the same time. Since Goldie, Florence, Orphie, and your parents don’t have selfie sticks, I interspersed them between the people who did, and miraculously, we made it back without any injuries and just in time for dinner.”

  “Genius.” I rose onto my toes and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. “You’re like…like the St. Bernard rescue dog of the Grand Girdwood Resort and recreation area.”

  “With proficiencies in alpine rescues and crowd control”—his voice grew husky as he whispered close to my ear—“and other skills that are best demonstrated in the privacy of the bedroom.” He returned my kiss then with a slowness and warmth that made the bottoms of my feet tingle.

  Woo! The Swiss side of his brain might be downplaying his derring-do, but the Italian side was really turned on.

  When we entered the restaurant foyer, the excitement level of the group seemed to have increased exponentially. Laughter. Chatter. Back-slapping. “You don’t know what you missed,” Dick Teig tittered to Osmond and George. “Get a load of this glacier.”

  Osmond stared at the screen. “Glacier looks an awful lot like your face.”

  “The glacier’s behind me.” Dick stabbed his finger at the screen. “But if you look real close, you can see a tiny sliver of it right here beneath my left ear. And look at this one. Alaskan fog. It’s gonna become part of my exclusive photo gallery of ‘Fog from Around the World.’ ”

  I spied Alison in the center of the lobby, smiling politely, her eyes looking as if they were glazing over as Grover Kristiansen held her hostage in conversational hell, talking at her like a rapid-fire Gatling gun. Ennis and Thor were mingling with the gang nearby, but I didn’t see Delpha and her pink-and-black speed tights anywhere. “Can I have your attention?” I called out over the chatter. “Is Delpha already here or are we still waiting for her to arrive?”

  Heads swiveled left and right. Palms flew up. Shoulders lifted.

  “Destinations Travel party,” the hostess announced from the podium. “Your tables are ready.”

  The group pushed forward like a surging tide, eliciting a terrified gasp from the hostess. “Single file, ladies and gentlemen, please! Single file.”

  “Hold it!” hollered Osmond. “We need to take a vote to decide how we should line up. Show of hands: How many—”

  “Random order!” declared Thor Thorsen without waiting for Osmond to finish. “Let’s get this show on the road. Get in line or get left behind.”

  A collective gasp. Indecisive looks. But once Thor stormed to the front of the pack, everyone merged helter-skelter behind him, giving in to his strong-arm tactics without so much as a whimper. Omigod. Was this how long-held democratic practices died? When people allowed themselves to be ordered around by a bully? Intimidated by a meanie? Browbeaten by a self-appointed tyrant?

  I stared wide-eyed at Nana as she scrambled into line in front of me. “Why are you letting Thor run the show like this?” I asked in a low voice, shocked that the gang seemed to have lost their collective backbone.

  “We’re not settin’ no precedent or nuthin’,” she whispered with
a toss of her head in Osmond’s direction. “We’re just hungry.”

  Okay. That made me feel better. I’d fixated on the wrong part of their anatomy. The issue wasn’t with their backbones. It was with their stomachs.

  “Why don’t you go in with the group to see them seated,” encouraged Etienne. “I’ll wait out here for Delpha.”

  I shook my head. “I’m gonna pop my head into the ladies’ restroom here and by the express takeout place. If she’s not in either place, I’ll send her a text. With any luck we’ll both join you in a few minutes.”

  After failing to find her in either the restaurant restroom or the one at the opposite end of the observation deck, I texted her a message: we’re being seated for dinner. where are you?

  Her reply came after I’d waited another five minutes in the restaurant foyer: hiking back to resort instead. only 2 miles.

  I couldn’t say her decision surprised me. After her run-in with Thor and her dressing-down by Florence, she’d probably had her fill of adversity for the evening. But I worried that her decision was both ill-timed and dangerous. what about the fog? can you see?

  clearing as i hike farther down.

  Which settled my nerves a bit. be careful then, I texted back.

  ok.

  I entered the dining room to find that not much had changed since the blowup on the deck. Alison entertained Ennis, Thor, and Grover at a separate table for four; Florence, Goldie, and Orphie were seated in a circular booth with Mom and Dad; and the rest of the gang occupied a long table near the stone fireplace. I informed Etienne of Delpha’s decision when I took my seat beside him. “I feel terrible for her. Detaching herself like this might help her regroup after her embarrassment on the deck, but I bet she’ll regret missing out on this meal. It’s supposed to be awesome.”

  “It’s already paid for, bella. So why don’t we order something off the menu and deliver it to her door when we get back to the hotel? I’m sure they’ll be happy to box it up for us.”

  Since Goldie was inconveniently located at another table, I couldn’t ask her about Delpha’s food preferences, so after perusing the menu myself, I sent Delpha another text: will bring meal back to you. your choice? lamb, salmon, beef, duck, or crab cakes?

  After a couple of minutes, I received her reply: crab. thx.

  Apparently, crustaceans are considered less repellent to Iowans if they’re disguised as cake.

  The meal so exceeded my expectations that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to walk through the door of another Blimpie’s to order a mere hamburger. The braised boar appetizer was exquisitely succulent. The scallop bisque left my taste buds dancing. The Alaskan paella was a mouthwatering sensation of the flavors and textures of scallops, fresh fish, shellfish, and pork. But the pièce de résistance was the pear and cranberry cobbler that arrived warm from the oven with a scoop of ice cream on top.

  Our table companions were obviously less impressed with the meal than either Etienne or I because they spent most of their time poring over their recent photos, uploading them to their news website, and updating their Facebook pages. They picked at their appetizers, allowed their soup to go stone cold, and only nibbled at their entrees…because, apparently, the mere process of lifting a fork to their mouths would severely limit the amount of time they could spend fiddling with their phones.

  They did manage to scarf down their desserts, however, because by the end of the meal, they probably realized they’d be returning to the resort with empty stomachs. I regarded them with disappointment as the dessert plates were cleared. “How were your meals?”

  They nodded offhandedly as they continued to stare at their phones.

  “You might actually have enjoyed the meal if you’d given it even half the attention you just showered on your social media sites.”

  Dick Teig looked up, staring at me aghast. “Sounds to me like you’re inviting us to turn off our phones. Am I hearing you right?”

  “Mmm…yes.”

  “Well, speaking for all of us, I think I can safely say that although we appreciate the invitation, we’d rather starve.”

  “Show of hands,” said Osmond. “How many people would rather star—”

  “No voting,” I snapped.

  “But Emily,” said Margi, eyes sparkling, face beaming, “we can’t turn off our phones. I feel the most incredible jolt of excitement every time my phone pings with an incoming text.”

  “I react that way, too,” confessed Tilly. “It’s as exciting as the sensation I felt after drinking an elixir prepared by my witch doctor friend in New Guinea.”

  Margi wrinkled her nose. “Eww. How much did you have to drink?”

  “Very little, actually. He served it in a shrunken head, so it was probably less than a shot.”

  “We’re addicted,” declared Bernice with a glance in my direction. “Deal with it.”

  “I will, but I don’t want to hear any complaining when you’re all forced to seek medical attention for the excruciating pain of texting thumb.”

  “Fear mongerer,” sniped Helen Teig.

  “You once told us that if we didn’t look up from our phones, we’d miss out on the beauty of our surroundings,” accused Grace Stolee, which inspired everyone to lean back in their chairs and throw long looks at the impenetrable fog pressing against the windows.

  “You really nailed that one,” Bernice wisecracked.

  “I haven’t mastered the art of predicting the weather yet,

  Bernice.”

  “Right.” She smiled smugly. “Except that by racing off to gawk at that stupid glacier, no one got to see what I saw right from the bar stool I was sitting on, before the fog set in.” She flicked her finger over her display screen. “Snow-capped summits.” She panned her phone to left and right so everyone could see the panorama. “Breathtaking mountainscapes.” She kept flicking. “A few useless valleys.”

  “Dang,” said Nana, gazing at her screen in awe. “Them mountain scenes are as dazzlin’ as Dick’s fog close-ups. Can I have a look-see?”

  Bernice handed her phone over to Nana, who flipped through the photos with a discerning eye. “Who’s these strangers what’s in some of your pictures?”

  “Distracted tourists who kept wandering into my frame. There oughta be a law that prevents people from walking around without watching where they’re going. Imbeciles.”

  Nana touched the screen to expand the photos. “Huh.”

  Bernice snapped to attention. “What?”

  “I think I figured out what’s got these folks so distracted. They’re all lookin’ down at the cell phones what they’re carryin’.” She expanded the photo again. “They look like pretty nice ones too.”

  “See there?” I spoke up, capitalizing on Nana’s segue. “Cell phones are to blame for ruining Bernice’s photos.”

  “Bernice is criticizing other people’s cell phones,” Dick Teig pointed out. “Not ours.”

  “But when you’re the ones doing the distracted walking, you’re the other people!”

  Silent stares.

  “I don’t get it,” puzzled Margi.

  “She’s basically saying that Bernice hates everything,” said Dick Stolee.

  “I did not!”

  “Show of hands,” Osmond piped up. “How many people think that—”

  “No voting!” I balked.

  Etienne placed his hand on my forearm, his voice calm. “It’s been a long evening for everyone, so if you’ve all finished your dessert, why don’t we head toward the tram so we can catch the next car down the mountain? There’s no rush, but it’s already nine thirty, so—”

  Napkins flew. Chairs collided. A flurry of tangled limbs and then they were gone, leaving the other two tables of guests to stare after them. “In case you hadn’t guessed,” Etienne motioned to the remaining tables, “they’re heading for the t
ram.”

  I regarded our empty table and shook my head at the futility of my efforts. “They’re hopeless.”

  “What is it you Americans say? When you’re in a hole, stop digging?”

  That might be true, but it did nothing to address my constant fear that if the gang continued to pay more attention to their phones than to where they were walking, one of them was eventually going to end up dead.

  seven

  After picking up a nifty doggie bag that contained Delpha’s entire meal, we boarded the gondola and rode back down the mountain in the ever-present daylight. And as Delpha had indicated, the farther we descended, the more the fog dissipated, so that by the time we arrived at the resort, the fog had completely lifted, although the sky was still overcast at the higher elevation.

  “We are treating you to a late start tomorrow,” Etienne announced as we flooded into the lobby. “If you close your blackout drapes, you might even get a good night’s sleep. The breakfast buffet in the hotel restaurant begins at six and ends at eleven. For those of you signed up for the dog mushing excursion, plan to meet Alison here in the lobby at ten o’clock. She’s on dog duty tomorrow. The rest of you will be on your own to either spend the day taking advantage of the hotel’s amenities or catch the shuttle into Girdwood to explore the town. Any questions?”

  I looked out over the group, wondering if Florence and Thor would be able to settle their differences overnight or if Florence would be giving him the cold shoulder for the rest of the trip. I didn’t think their sudden schism would alter the seating on the bus too drastically, but if they decided they didn’t want to share a room anymore, we’d be dealing with a major headache.

  “No questions?” Etienne concluded. “Then we’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, everyone.”

  I watched Florence continue to huddle with Goldie and Orphie while Thor bounded off toward the elevator. I supposed Florence could always bunk with Orphie without too much trouble, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Maybe the Thorsens would do us all a favor and sort things out themselves.