Alaska Adventure

by Cynthia Baxter

  “Find something?” Trip asked, coming over and standing at her side.

  “I think so.” She pointed at a pair of earrings in the corner. “Look at those earrings shaped like eagles. I was so impressed by the eagle we saw coming down, and I love the design.... Somehow, I think Cassie would really like those. The shiny silver would look good with her red hair, and since she’s such a good artist, I think she’d appreciate the fine craftsmanship. I wonder how much they cost?”

  Ten minutes later, Laurel walked out of the store with a small package tucked into her pocket. She was certain that Cassie would be thrilled with her selection. More than that, she hoped the earrings would serve as a sort of peace offering, smoothing over some of the tension that had sprung up between them.

  “Where should we go next?” Laurel, sitting in the front seat of the .Jeep, peered at the tourist map she’d picked up at the gallery. “It looks as if Homer Spit is one of the high points.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Trip.

  Laurel glanced over at him. “You’re turning out to be an excellent traveling companion.”

  Trip shrugged. “At your service, ma’am.”

  Homer Spit was a long, narrow stretch of land that curled into Kachemak Bay. Along the beaches ran an unbroken line of tents, put up by the men and women who stood along the coastline, fishing rods in hand. Further down was a string of buildings connected by a boardwalk that looked as if it had been modeled after a New England fishing village. The dozen or so shops sold everything a visitor might need, from film and T-shirts to bait and fishing tackle. Sprinkled among the stores were rental offices for small fishing boats, as well as scenic cruises across the bay to Gull Island, home to thousands of birds, and Halibut Cove, an isolated artists’ colony.

  At the end of the spit was a beach. Beyond the calm expanse of Kachemak Bay were the Kenai Mountains, a jagged line of icy white peaks that cut into the horizon. The scene was one of the most magnificent views Laurel had seen since she’d arrived in Alaska. Yet what struck her even more was the black sand.

  “Hey, look at this!” Trip held up a piece of seaweed so long it was taller than he was. “Let’s bring this with us as a souvenir.”

  Laurel smiled. This was turning out to be more fun than she’d anticipated. But as she stood on the black beach, enjoying her spectacular surroundings, she suddenly felt guilty. After all, the only reason she and Trip were even here was because of someone else’s mishap.

  Sighing, she said, “I wonder how Mariah’s doing.”

  “She’s probably having a grand old time. After all, she’s got her favorite person in the world for company: herself.”

  “I wonder if Dr. Chase has managed to get in touch with Dr. Ellis yet.” Strolling along the water’s edge, she said, “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out I was right.”

  “About what?”

  “About the fact that she and Dr. Wells have a special connection to each other.”

  “Who knows?” Trip said with a shrug.

  “I bet I know what happened,” she went on, ignoring his indifference. “A few years ago, they met and fell madly in love. They spent an idyllic summer together. But their great love was destined to fail. He had his career in Vermont, she had hers up here.... They were both as passionate about their work as they were about each other. In the end, they agreed never to see each other again because the pain of not being able to be together was simply too great.”

  For a few moments, Laurel was lost in her little daydream. When she finally glanced up, she saw that Trip was grinning at her.

  “You sure have a good imagination.”

  “Maybe it’s this place.” She could feel her cheeks turning pink. “You have to admit, there’s something very special about Alaska. Something unique.”

  “You mean like it’s the only place where you can find eagles, the only place where the seaweed is more than six feet long—”

  “It’s much more than that. Here, you’re free to be yourself, whatever that happens to be. There’s no one looking over your shoulder, constantly reminding you how you’re supposed to act. Nobody’s scolding you, saying you ‘should’ do this and you ‘should’ do that. You’re completely on your own. There are no rules, no limits....”

  She expected Trip to laugh at her. Yet when she dared to cast him a shy glance, she found that the expression on his face was serious. “You really think about things, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I do.”

  “I like that. I haven’t met many girls who are that introspective.”

  Laurel could feel anger rising up inside her. But before she had a chance to protest, Trip held up his hands.

  “Wait a minute. Don’t get all huffy. I was merely making an observation, that’s all. You’re not like most girls.”

  “Trip, you talk about girls as if they were creatures from another planet.”

  “Sometimes I think they are. I don’t know; maybe it’s partly my fault. I suppose it could be the way I come across that makes most girls act the way they do around me.”

  Laurel remained guarded. “And exactly how do they act?”

  “They flirt with me. Tease me.” He shrugged. “It’s like ... it’s like it’s all part of some game we’re playing. Nobody takes it very seriously. We’re all just playing different roles, that’s all. I say something suggestive, the girl I’m talking to says something back.... It’s fun, but I guess it’s not really a good way for me to get to know her.” He gazed out across the bay. “I don’t know; maybe I’ve been missing out on something all these years.”

  “My goodness, Trip. You’re certainly full of surprises.” Laurel’s reaction was sincere. “It’s hard for me to admit this, but I think I might have misjudged you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe there really is a thinking, feeling person in there, underneath that Don Juan facade of yours.”

  “Aw, come on, Laurel,” said Trip. “I’m not that different from anyone else. Oh, sure, I come on a little strong sometimes. But that’s because I don’t know any other way to act around girls.”

  “Let me ask you something,” Laurel said thoughtfully. “Have you ever had a girl who was a friend?”

  He looked puzzled. “I’ve had a girlfriend ever since I was in the fifth grade.”

  “I’m not talking about a girlfriend. I’m talking about a girl who’s a friend. One that you’re not dating, just one who you treat like any other friend.”

  Trip thought for a few seconds. “You know, I don’t think I have.”

  “Well, maybe you and I could try being friends.”

  “I don’t think I could do that, Laurel.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m just too crazy about you.” He’d stopped walking, and as he turned to face her, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Trip, I—”

  “I mean it, Laurel,” he said, his soft voice more tender than she’d ever heard it. “I really am crazy about you. You’re really special. You’re not like any other girl I’ve ever met.”

  Laurel’s heart was pounding. She knew he was going to kiss her. And while part of her warned her to push him away, another part wanted him to. Perhaps she really had misjudged him. Maybe he did come on so strong because he didn’t know any other way to approach girls. She owed him the benefit of the doubt....

  Leaning forward, she turned her face upward to meet his. The initial touch of his lips was electrifying. Yet as she kissed him back, she realized that the pounding of her heart was due only to her surprise, and nothing more.

  “Trip,” she muttered, taking a step back, “I’m not sure this is what I want. I-I feel so confused—”

  “Take your time, Laurel. I don’t want to pressure you. It’s just that ...” His hands still on her shoulders, he looked around at the bay and, across the way, the magnificent mountains. “It’s just like you said. Alaska is special. Being here is making me see things with a whole ne
w perspective.”

  She looked up into his eyes, struggling to sort out what she was feeling. All along she’d found him boorish and insensitive, but all of a sudden she was seeing a new side of him, one she’d never even dreamed existed.

  “I need more time,” she told him. “All this is happening too fast.”

  “Okay.” He ran one finger lightly alongside her cheek. “We’d better get back to the lodge.”

  “I-I feel like I don’t want to leave.”

  Trip’s eyes were shining as he gazed down at her. “Don’t worry. We have all the time we need.”

  Laurel still felt as if she were in a dream, wrapped in a mixture of astonishment and confusion, as she went upstairs to check on Marian. Dr. Chase had telephoned to say Dr. Ellis’s evaluation of the X rays was the same as hers: the ankle had been sprained, with no break in the bone. Mariah had used her crutches to hobble around the room, packing. She was itching to get out, marveling over the fact that she was actually looking forward to getting back to the preserve.

  “I’ll go tell Trip we can check out of our rooms,” Laurel volunteered. “He’s waiting in the lobby.”

  Coming down the stairs, she could hear his voice. As she turned the corner and his words became clear, she froze.

  “I bet a girl like you who’s lived here all your life could show me some great places,” he was saying. “So what do you think? If I can come up with an excuse to get back here in the next couple of days ...”

  Trip was leaning against the front desk, talking softly to the young woman working there. Laurel stood in silence, staring.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she heard him say. “How about if I give you a call here at the lodge in the next day or two and—”

  He happened to glance up then, spotting Laurel. He cut off his words midsentence. She expected him to react: to turn red, to start sputtering, to apologize. Instead, he smiled.

  “Hi, Laurel. I was just getting to know some of the local folks.”

  “So I see,” she returned coldly. “I’m afraid you’re out of time. Mariah’s ready to leave. You’ll no doubt be pleased to hear she didn’t break any bones.”

  “Great.” Trip grinned at her. “Then we can be on our way. I’ll be right up to help Mariah get down the stairs.”

  Laurel turned her back on him, her cheeks burning. Before she did, she caught sight of him winking at the girl behind the desk.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I won’t think about it. I just won’t let myself think about it.

  Cassie pushed a strand of curly red hair behind one ear and studied the sketch pad that lay balanced on her bended knees. She leaned her head against the big cottonwood tree a few hundred feet beyond the cabin, ignoring the roughness of the bark just as stubbornly as she ignored the stinging in her eyes while she struggled to keep tears from falling.

  She knew perfectly well that as she sat in the woods, trying to force herself to stop thinking about anything besides the clump of fireweed she was attempting to draw, Laurel was in Homer with Trip. And the burning in the pit of her stomach was only partly because of her feelings for Trip. Even more, she was reeling from having been betrayed by Laurel.

  My best friend! she thought. At least she was supposed to be my best friend....

  The same strand of hair fell forward into her face again. With the same determination, Cassie swept it away. She’d decided she’d spent enough time thinking about those two. For now, she wanted to escape into the white page in front of her.

  A line here, some shading there.... Before long, the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was only her rendering of the dramatic pink wildflower, each detail captured with a fine drawing pencil, the colors replicated with pastels. For the moment, the only thing that mattered was getting it just right.

  Suddenly a shadow fell across the sheet of white paper in front of her. Abruptly Cassie snapped her head up.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said to Russ, partly relieved, partly annoyed.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She shrugged noncommittally, then bent over her sketch once again. But the fun had already gone out of it. The presence of someone else made it impossible for her to concentrate.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked, her impatience only thinly masked.

  Russ held up the binoculars he’d been carrying at his side. “Dr. Wells sent me out to watch the terns.”

  “Uh, oh,” Cassie commented, remembering Mariah’s harrowing experience. “I hope you’re prepared for an attack.”

  “Fortunately, I know what they’ll put up with—and what they won’t. Actually, terns are very interesting birds.” He was growing more and more animated. “Did you know they spend the winter months in Argentina, then fly all the way up here to Alaska to mate in the spring? It’s the longest annual migration of any bird in the world.”

  Cassie peered at Russ more closely, shielding her eyes against the sun. “You really know a lot about nature, don’t you?”

  Russ averted his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I did grow up on a preserve, and when you spend so much time around something—

  “But it’s more than that. You really love it.”

  His face and neck had turned pink.

  “I think it’s great,” Cassie said quickly. “It’s important to have something in your life that you’re passionate about. Most people aren’t lucky enough to have that one thing they get really excited about.” Suddenly shy, she added, “I feel that way about art.”

  “Really?” Russ looked at her intently. He’d put the binoculars down gently on a soft pile of leaves and lowered himself onto a large flat rock. “Is that why you’re always sneaking around with that pad of yours?”

  “I don’t sneak!” Cassie was indignant. “I-I just don’t expect anybody else to understand, that’s all. Besides, I’m not exactly crazy about other people looking over my shoulder all the time, wanting to see what I’m doing and asking me a million questions—”

  “I guess that means you’re not going to show me what you’re working on.”

  Cassie hesitated. “Well, I—

  “You don’t have to. I mean, I understand if you feel funny showing your artwork to me. But I really am interested. Dr. Wells has been raving about what a terrific artist you are.”

  “He has?” Cassie’s surprise was genuine.

  “Sure. I heard him telling Trip and Mariah what a bonus it is for his research that he has you to draw such great pictures of the flora and fauna around the lake. He said he’s hoping to include some of them in the articles he writes about his research.”

  “I-I had no idea.” Cassie could feel her own cheeks turning red.

  “Maybe now that you know what a good artist you are, you won’t be so shy about showing me your work.” Russ’s tone had become teasing.

  Yet instead of squirming under his attention, Cassie could feel her bashfulness fading. “If you’re really that interested.”

  “I am,” he said simply.

  She paused only a moment before handing over her sketch pad. Anxiously she watched his face as he studied the drawing she’d been working on, then flipped over the pad to the beginning and looked through the two dozen or so she’d made in the past few days. His expression was earnest. His mouth was drawn into a straight line and his eyes were intense as they lingered over each rendering she’d made: birds, flowers, grasses, small animals, even fish.

  “Well?” she finally asked, unable to wait any longer. “What do you think?”

  “Wow,” he said breathlessly.

  Cassie laughed nervously. “ ‘Wow,’ as in ‘Wow, these are good,’ or ‘Wow’ as in ‘Wow, these are awful’?”

  His expression still dead serious, Russ handed the sketch pad back to Cassie. “ ‘Wow,’ as in, ‘These drawings are as good as any I’ve ever seen.’ And that includes professional journals, textbooks—”

  Cassie blinked. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “You’re
good, Cassie. You’re really good.”

  She broke into a wide grin. “So Dr. Wells knew what he was talking about, after all.”

  “Have you thought about becoming a professional artist?”

  “I-I never thought I was good enough. Drawing’s always just been a hobby.”

  “I may not know much about art—in fact, I don’t know a thing about art—but I do know something about technical drawing. And like I’ve already said, your stuff is excellent. If I were you, I’d give serious thought to getting into technical drawing. You could make a real contribution.”

  Russ leaned over and picked up his binoculars. “Speaking of making a contribution, I’d better get back to my tern watching. The data base has to include two hours of observation every day.”

  Cassie felt a pang of disappointment as she watched him walk away. She was surprised by what he’d said about her artwork. It made her feel good to be complimented so enthusiastically.

  But even more, she was surprised at how much she’d enjoyed talking to him. Shy, quiet Russ ... was it possible there was more to him than just some geeky guy who got excited about nature?

  She watched him until he’d disappeared into the woods, then with a little shrug turned back to her drawing.

  * * * *

  Laurel, Trip, and Mariah drove back from Homer in silence, tension hanging over them like a rain cloud. As the Jeep rounded the bend and the cabin came into sight, Laurel muttered, “It’s good to be back.”

  She hopped out of the car, leaving Trip to help Mariah. After thirty-six hours, she’d had enough of both of them. With the small package from the Ptarmigan Craft Gallery tucked into the front pocket of her backpack, she headed into the cabin to find Cassie.

  She found her in their bedroom, sitting at the edge of the bottom bunk. Thirty or forty of her drawings were spread out across the mattress haphazardly.

  “Hi,” she said shyly, pausing in the doorway.

  Cassie barely glanced up. “Hello, Laurel.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Organizing my drawings.” She hesitated before adding, “Dr. Wells is going to sit down with me and go over them. He wants to make sure I’m covering all the different species of plants and animals he wants.”