His gaze softened. “I’m sure there are lots of things I wouldn’t know about growing wheat. Sorry if my laughter made you uncomfortable.”
“I like to see you happy. I’ll try to ask more dumb questions.” She smiled at him.
The phone rang and the fax machine rattled.
They had no more time to talk that day. By late afternoon, Laurette heaved a sigh of relief. The last ship had weighed anchor, and she could go home. Her stomach growled. Other than some pastry Tyler had brought back from one of the ships, she had not eaten since a bowl of cereal at five thirty that morning. She thought about all the groceries John had brought on Sunday. “Maybe I’ll cook some pork chops,” she muttered as she crossed the parking lot to her truck. “Oh, that doesn’t look good.” She changed her path and headed toward a couple on the dock. They stood where the tenders landed, and neither appeared happy.
“Hello, I’m Laurette with Southeast Alaska Maritime. Is there something I can help you with?”
The man turned to her. She could read the frustration on his face. “I told my wife the last tender left at three, but she insisted it was four. Now she won’t believe me when I tell her that’s our ship sailing out of the harbor.”
“It’s so pretty, Harold. I wish you’d take a picture.”
“It is pretty. But I’m afraid your husband is right.” Laurette kept her voice soft.
The look of surprise that came over the lady’s face twisted Laurette’s heart.
“I told you, Mabel, but you wouldn’t listen.” He looked at Laurette. “What can we do? Our luggage and our friends are on that ship.” He waved his arm toward the departing vessel.
“Let me take you to the Dockside Hotel. You can stay there tonight, and we’ll get you on a flight to your ship’s next port of call. We should be able to get you on your way sometime tomorrow.”
“Can you do that?” he asked, relief sweeping over his countenance.
“I don’t like to fly,” Mabel stated harshly.
“Come now, dear. It’s all we can do, and this nice girl has offered to help us.” He put his hand on his wife’s arm and led her up the ramp to the street level.
“Do you see that building over there?” Laurette pointed to a large rustic building across the corner from the parking lot. “It’s a nice hotel where you can be comfortable until we arrange for you to rejoin your ship.”
“Why can’t we take another boat out there now?” the woman asked with a frown.
“It would be a very rough ride in a small boat. Plus, you would have to climb a ladder on the side of your ship to get on board.”
The lady smiled weakly. “How do we get to the hotel?”
“I’ll take you there. It isn’t far.”
“I’m Harold Harris, and this is my wife, Mabel. I didn’t catch your name, miss.”
“I’m Laurette Martel.” She had been walking slowly across the parking lot and now guided them across Harbor Drive to the Dockside Hotel. “The reservation desk is right there if you would like to sign for a room. I need to call my office,” she told Mr. Harris. Pulling her cell phone out of her pocket, Laurette called the SAM office. Ryan answered. “I’ve got Mr. and Mrs. Harold Harris here at the Dockside Hotel. They didn’t make it back to their ship before it sailed.”
“Their ship’s on its way to Vancouver, B.C. The Harrises will catch up with it in time to pick up their luggage and go home,” he told her.
“Can’t be helped. Should I call the airlines tonight?”
“I’ll take care of it, and I’ll notify the ship where they are. You get them settled at the hotel. Are they going to need medicine?”
“I’ll ask and get back to you,” she said, pushing the disconnect button.
She waited until Mr. Harris had finished at the desk and approached the couple. “What will you need?”
“The clerk says there are toiletries in the room, and if we need more to call.” He smiled at his wife. “I guess you’ll get to wear that sweatshirt you bought this afternoon.” He pointed to the shopping bag she clutched.
“Do you take any prescription drugs that you will need right away?”
“I have it right here.” Mrs. Harris dug into the large pocket-book she carried and pulled out a box with a compartment for each day’s pills. “This kept getting lost in the suitcase, so I put it in my purse.”
Laurette said a silent prayer of thanks. Getting medicine at this time of night could be a problem.
“Our office is in contact with your ship, so they’ll know where you are. We should be able to make airline arrangements for tomorrow.” She took a business card from her pocket. “If you need anything, please call my cell phone.”
“Thank you, Laurette. You were an angel sent to help us.” Mr. Harris squeezed her hand between both of his.
“We’ll be in contact with you in the morning. I hope you have a pleasant night.” Laurette watched the couple walk toward their room. She could smell food from the café. The pork chops can wait.
She went into the restaurant and drank a cola while the waitress made up take-out boxes of the nightly special. Hope Ruth likes meat loaf, she thought after paying for the food.
Laurette arrived home to smell fresh baking.
Ruth came to the kitchen door with a big smile. “I baked a cake.”
“Smells good and looks better.” Laurette put the take-out boxes next to the sheet cake on the table.
“I used one of the box things John left here. He even had a can of frosting to go with it. I hope it tastes all right.”
“It will be wonderful.” Laurette put the teakettle on the stove and took dishes from the cupboard. “I brought some hot food home. Then we’ll have that dessert.”
When Laurette said grace, she silently added thanks to Jesus for taking care of her friend. “Wow, Ruth. Your cake is almost too pretty to eat.”
“When did you make meat loaf? I haven’t had any in a long time. It tastes good.”
Laurette told her friend about the people who missed their ship, explaining that the convenience of the take-out meal was too good to pass up. “I decided to let someone else do the cooking for us since I was running so late.”
Ruth chuckled. “Nice to know I’m not the only one who gets confused. And we ended up with a delicious dinner.”
Ruth cut pieces of cake while Laurette refilled their cups. “When will we have Ryan over for dinner again?” she asked.
“I hadn’t thought about it,” Laurette admitted. “I asked him before because he was taking me to the music festival.”
“Well, let’s feed him again.”
“I’ll take him some cake tomorrow. That’ll tempt him to come to dinner.”
Ruth smiled. Laurette could see her friend’s pleasure in the compliment.
“I’m not sure whether Ryan’s a believer.” Laurette sipped her tea.
“Do you talk to him about Jesus?”
“Not really. I don’t know how to begin.”
“Shouldn’t be hard for you to talk about the Savior. Your faith is evident in all you do.”
“Really?” Laurette looked closely at Ruth. She seemed so clearheaded tonight, and she had baked a cake. She dared to hope it would last. Please, Jesus, hold Your servant Ruth in love and guidance.
“Shall we get these dishes cleaned up?” Ruth started to stack the plates.
After they had washed the dishes together, Ruth settled in her chair while Laurette e-mailed her parents. She knew her dad and brother would be busy with the wheat harvest. Her mom would be cooking huge meals to feed the workers. A note from their daughter would assure them she was okay.
“Ready to read now?” Ruth asked when Laurette closed her laptop.
After sharing the Scriptures, the women prepared for bed. Laurette had just reached for the light in her room when her cell phone rang.
“Did I wake you?” Ryan asked.
“No. When the phone rang, I was afraid it was the couple I left at the hotel.”
“Just me. How did you come to find those people?”
“I saw them standing on the dock and went to see if I could help.”
“You do have a way of finding the lost. Anyway, the airlines just called and the Harrises have a reservation on the tomorrow afternoon flight.”
“Are you still at the office?” she asked in alarm. His low laugh stirred a new feeling in her heart.
“The airlines called me at home. Sorry if I bothered you.”
“No bother. I was worried about you working so late.”
“Thanks for caring. See you in the morning.”
❧
Ryan put the phone down. That girl can bring sunshine to the darkest gloom. Even her voice sparkles. And she’s worried about how late I worked. Always concerned about others. . .
He picked up the box he had taken out of the spare bedroom. He had found the hymnbook he wanted. He also picked up his Bible. “I won this for perfect attendance,” he muttered. He knew he didn’t deserve it; he just went with Mom, and she had to be there every week to play the hymns. He left the Bible on the living room table and put the hymnal on the small organ that stood against the wall. He and his mother had both cried when she sold the baby grand. But she had left him the organ.
Sitting down and turning on the instrument, Ryan flipped pages and played some of the hymns his mother used to play. His mind tossed out memories of his boyhood. The house was always full of music. Mom either practiced the piano or gave lessons, or the stereo sent music wafting throughout the house. Mom got lost in her music after Dad died. He recalled her joy after she met Harvey. “Why did I dislike him?” Ryan asked himself.
Maybe you were jealous when she shared her love of music with someone besides you, his conscience nagged.
“Give your bitterness to Jesus.” Laurette’s voice echoed in his mind. He silently read the words to the music his fingers produced. “Sin sick and sorrow worn, whom Christ doth heal.”
“I wasn’t fair to Mom. She found happiness and I tried to stand in her way.”
The commandment to honor one’s parents flashed through his mind. “I’m full of sin. Could Christ heal me?”
Absently he turned the organ off, walked back to the table, and picked up the Bible. “I don’t even know where to start.” He let the book fall open and started reading; Psalm 25:7 caught his eye. He read it to himself twice, then read it aloud.
“ ‘Remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions: according to thy mercy remember thou me for thy goodness’ sake, O Lord.’ Hmm. Is the psalmist asking God to remember him in love, not for his past sins?”
The words stayed with Ryan as he put the Bible back on the table before he carried the box back to the spare room closet. “That isn’t how I’ve been remembering my mom,” he admitted, wondering what Laurette would say about that.
Ryan went to the phone, pausing briefly before calling Tyler at home. He respected Tyler and knew the man would give him a straight answer. Ryan grinned. Then Tyler would probably tell him to double check with his pastor, just to be sure.
❧
The next morning, the office was even more hectic than usual. Tyler had gone to sort out a freight problem. Laurette left a message that she had gone to the Dockside Hotel to check on the Harrises and assure them she would take them to the airport in the afternoon. Thoughts of trying to talk to Rette had vanished from Ryan’s mind.
“You have to take this call,” Debbie told him.
Ryan listened to the request and went numb. His mind refused to work. “How many tanks do you need?” he asked. “I’ll see what I can do and get back to you.” He put the phone down and watched Laurette come in the door and head for the coffeepot.
“You look like you lost your last friend,” she commented, offering to fill his cup.
“Just my job,” he muttered, taking the proffered coffee. “I need to find someplace to fill those small oxygen tanks people pull around.”
“So what’s the problem?” Laurette sipped her coffee.
“Where do I get twenty oxygen tanks filled?”
“How about the hospital? Maybe they have a supply of tanks or source to fill them.”
Ryan felt like a ton of weight had been lifted off his chest. “Of course. They deal with oxygen tanks for patients all the time. You’re my savior.”
“No, Jesus is your Savior.”
“Actually, I’d like to talk to you about that later. But I’ve got some calls to make.”
“Ruth wants you to come to dinner.”
“Only Ruth?” He stopped on his way to the phone.
Laurette’s smile warmed him clear down to his toes. “We’ll both welcome the chance to talk with you about Jesus. Can you come to dinner tomorrow night?”
“You’ve got a date.” Ryan made a call and settled the oxygen tank arrangements.
“Can they do it?” Laurette asked when he hung up the phone.
“Yes. You’ve made a lot of passengers breathe easier.”
He laughed at her grimace. “Okay, so it was a bad pun. What time tomorrow?”
“I’ll look at our schedule and tell you later.”
“Leave me a note. I’m off to collect some oxygen bottles.”
Is it her faith in God that keeps her so cheerful? I’m going to find out if He can do that for me, Ryan vowed, jumping aboard the tender.
SEVEN
Laurette stopped by the grocery store on her way home. “I don’t have time to fix a fancy meal,” she murmured, picking up hamburger and bottled spaghetti sauce. “I can fix this quick before Ryan gets to the house tomorrow night.” Thankful for her neoprene rain gear, she pulled up the hood and carried the groceries to her truck.
With the windshield wipers going full blast, Laurette drove home, thinking about the e-mail she’d received from her parents. Her mother kept track of the weather in Sitka and worried that Laurette would be depressed with all the rain. Your father says nothing would get you down, but I think the weather could. She was still thinking about her parents when she pulled into the driveway.
Pleasant memories of her loving parents vanished. Ruth stood on the deck wearing her housedress—no coat—watering her flowers. Laurette pulled up her hood and hurried to Ruth’s side.
“Welcome home. I’m just fertilizing my geraniums,” Ruth explained.
Trying to smile, Laurette took the watering can and guided Ruth back in the house. “Please get out of your wet clothes. I have to bring some groceries in from the truck.”
Rushing to complete her task and get the ice cream in the freezer, Laurette made it back before Ruth had taken her dress off.
“I’m going to run you a hot bath. You’re soaked to the skin and might catch cold.” She coaxed Ruth from the kitchen, where she stood dripping water on the floor.
“The floor’s wet.” Ruth began to shiver.
“I’ll mop it up later. Right now we need to get you warm again.”
Moments later, she helped Ruth step into the bathtub. “How’s that? Warm enough?”
Ruth nodded. “I always fertilize the flowers on Monday.”
Laurette didn’t have the heart to tell her it was Thursday. “Are you warm now?” she asked a few minutes later.
“Yes, dear, but why do I have to put on my nightgown?” she asked as Laurette helped her dry off and dress.
“It will keep you warm.” She handed Ruth her robe and set her slippers on the floor for her to step into. “Why don’t you go sit in your chair while I pick up your wet clothes.”
Once the floor had been wiped dry and the wet clothes put in the washer, Laurette opened the refrigerator. “I give up,” she sighed. After packaging the pork chops, she labeled them and put them in the freezer. Next she measured water to boil for an instant noodle soup. “This will warm Ruth on the inside.” She put the teakettle on to boil and sliced some cheese to go with the crackers she had put on a plate.
“Would you like to come to the table, or should I set up a tray?”
&nb
sp; “No need for that fuss. I’ll come to the supper table.”
Ruth liked the noodles and ate well. “Do we still have some cake?”
Laurette poured hot water into the teapot. “Sure do. This tea will be ready in a few minutes to go with it.”
“I invited Ryan to come to dinner tomorrow night.” Laurette put a slice of cake in front of her friend. At least Ruth remembered baking. “There is still cake and I bought ice cream to go with it.”
“Doesn’t he like chocolate milk?” Ruth asked.
Now why would she remember something like that and still stand in the rain until her clothes were soaked? “Yes, I bought some of that, too. You go ahead and relax. I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
“All right.” Ruth went back to her chair. “Will you read to me later?”
“Of course.” Laurette tossed the washed clothes into the dryer before starting on the dishes. Please, Jesus, show me how to take care of this sweet lady. I place her in Your protection, Laurette prayed as she put the dishes away.
❧
The next morning the office staff laughed when Laurette described Ruth watering flowers in the rain. Ryan sipped his coffee thoughtfully and did not join in the merriment. He noted that Rette seemed uncomfortable with her coworkers’ jokes. “She really loves that sweet old lady,” he murmured before draining his cup.
Ryan wondered if he should talk to John to find out if he knew how bad his mother’s mind was getting. Taking care of Ruth might become too much for Rette. He shoved such thoughts to the back of his mind and started assigning tasks for the day. Tyler had been called to supervise the loading of a log ship in Hyder and left Ryan in charge.
The gray day matched Ryan’s mood until it was time to leave the office. The closer he got to Rette’s house, the more his spirits lifted. After hanging his raincoat in the outer room and kicking off his waterproof boots, Ryan entered the cheery kitchen. Ruth looked up from putting plates on the table. Rette turned from stirring a bubbling pot on the stove.
“Welcome,” Laurette said, putting down her spoon. “Almost ready. I just need to toss a salad.”
Alaskan Summer Page 5