Over the past six years, she’d found it best to go by the book. Life was less complicated that way. Besides, at twenty-four years of age, she wasn’t sure she wanted to add romantic complications to the frustrations of her career. It was hard enough trying to do everything right when she was on duty—especially when the boatswain watched her every move—and studying the manual and the charts of the waters her ship would sail. Did she have time to think about romance?
Aven looked her way again, and his smile melted the iceberg of doubt in her stomach. If she didn’t have time, she would make time.
“Sounds to me like you guys take way too much flak from those fishermen,” Jo-Lynn said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Aven replied. “They feel intimidated when we board their boats.”
“Yeah,” Mark said. “Especially when they know they’ve broken the law. We have to expect a little belligerence.”
Aven turned to Caddie. “How’s the arm?”
“It still aches some, but the doctor says it will heal well. I’m off duty for at least a month, though. Physical therapy every day.”
“So, you said you might go home?” Jo-Lynn asked.
Caddie hesitated, hoping the annoying blush would stay at bay. She didn’t want to admit she’d postponed making plans until she knew whether or not she’d have a chance to see Aven again. “I might. Later this week, maybe. Right now I’m taking it easy and getting used to pulling clothes on over a cast.”
Aven smiled. “I hope this hasn’t soured you on Alaska.”
“Oh, no. I’m glad I was assigned here. Sometimes I feel a bit. . .” She struggled for the right word and shrugged. “Inadequate for the job, I guess. But. . .the Lord is always there.”
He nodded solemnly. “That’s right. He’s there for us even when we’re weak.”
Caddie straightened her shoulders a little. She would keep doing her best and focus on God’s promises when she needed help in pleasing her exacting superiors. She had chosen this life, and she needed to do it well.
An image of her father flashed through her mind. He had sailed these same waters and met the same challenges she faced now. Her service was a memorial to her dad. Had she inadvertently added another layer of expectation to her workload? Did wanting to honor Dad increase the stress of her job?
“There are times when I think I make the job harder than it really is.” As soon as the words came out, she regretted voicing the thought.
But Aven’s eyes glinted as he nodded. “That’s easy to do. Especially when we forget who’s really in charge. Remember to rely on His strength.”
“Well, hey, why don’t we go get something to eat?” Jo-Lynn asked.
“Yeah,” Mark said, “if we can find a place that’s not too full of tourists.”
“I know a seafood place,” Aven said. “We might have to wait a little while for a table, but the food is good and it’s not too expensive.”
“Let’s go.” Jo-Lynn herded them all into the parking lot and nudged Caddie toward Aven’s truck. “Go ahead with Aven. We’ll follow you.”
Caddie felt her face warm again, but Aven smiled. “Sure, if you don’t mind my pickup. It’s practically old enough to vote.” He opened the passenger door for her and offered his hand. “Can you manage with that cast? I don’t want you to hurt your arm.”
“Thanks.” As she reached for his hand, her stomach fluttered. His strong, warm fingers clasped hers, and he gave her just enough leverage to make her climb into the cab quick and painless. She wondered if he felt as nervous as she did. If so, he didn’t show it.
Four
The harborside restaurant was crowded when they arrived shortly before one o’clock, but Aven didn’t mind. He used the wait for a table as a chance to learn more about Caddie. She looked terrific in a muted green dress, and her hair seemed shiny and a little poufier than usual. He wondered if it felt soft.
“You like seafood?” he asked.
“Yeah. Do you?”
He nodded. “I’ve seen a lot of salmon lately, though. I’m not sure I want to eat it today.” He eyed her, wondering what to ask next. There were so many things he wanted to know about her.
Mark and Jo-Lynn were conveniently studying a menu on the wall.
“See, they have beef and chicken, too,” Jo-Lynn said.
Aven looked at Caddie and took a deep breath. “So you’re heading home to recuperate?”
“If the doctor says I can and if I can line up physical therapy there.”
“Where’s home?”
“Washington.” She added quickly, “The state, not D.C.”
“Beautiful place to live. Your folks live there?”
“Just my mom, my brother, and sister.”
Did that mean her parents were divorced? Not the best time to ask. Aven nodded and passed his key ring from his right hand to his left. He realized he’d done that about twenty times in the two minutes they’d stood waiting. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to eat. He shoved the key ring into his pocket. “If you’re going to be in town tomorrow. . .”
“I’m taking her to the Baranov Museum tomorrow,” Jo-Lynn said.
“Oh.”
Mark poked Jo-Lynn with his elbow.
“What?” she asked.
“Aven has tomorrow off.”
“So?” Jo-Lynn looked at Aven and back at Mark. “Oh. Sorry.”
Caddie said nothing, but her gaze never left Aven’s face. Suddenly he wished he was elsewhere. Jo-Lynn could be a nuisance. Of course, he probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask Caddie to lunch if Jo-Lynn hadn’t instigated the outing.
“That’s okay,” he said to Jo-Lynn, flashing a glance Caddie’s way. “I wasn’t going to do anything special tomorrow. I just plan to run a couple of errands.”
“Caddie and I could do the museum another time.” Jo-Lynn raised her eyebrows at Caddie with an “up-to-you” expression.
Aven gulped and dared to look steadily at Caddie. “I was going to go look over a dog harness for my sister. She needs a new one and she really can’t afford it, but she heard about someone not far from here who will put together a custom harness at a reasonable price. She called him for an estimate a few weeks ago and decided it was too spendy, but I said I’d check into it.” He looked away. “I thought you might be interested in going along, but. . .”
“Hey, you could take Caddie to the museum,” Mark said.
“Oh, no,” Aven said quickly. “Then Jo-Lynn wouldn’t get to go.”
Jo-Lynn waved away his objections. “I’ve seen it three or four times, while you guys were out to sea. I just thought if the weather’s nice, Caddie and I could ride into town and take a look. The Baranov has tons of exhibits from the times when the Russians were here, but I don’t need to see it again.”
“Well. . .” Aven swallowed and turned his attention back to Caddie. “What do you think? We could swing by the harness maker’s shop and then see the museum. If you want to. I mean, it might be fun.” He stopped talking. Why was it so easy to give orders to a dozen seamen—male or female—on the ship without tripping over his tongue, but a simple invitation to a woman came out all mangled? In his years in uniform, he’d had only a handful of bona fide dates. Was it any wonder, when he couldn’t offer a pretty woman a simple sentence without bumbling?
The hostess approached them with a brilliant smile. “Phifer party?”
Mark sprang to attention. “Right here.”
As they fell in to follow her to their table, Caddie tossed a smile Aven’s way, eyeing him from beneath her lowered lashes. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
He barely heard her, but it was enough to send his ego soaring through the roof of the restaurant.
When they reached the table, he pulled out a chair for Caddie. She again smiled at him as she slid into the seat, holding her left arm cautiously away from the edge of the table.
Aven’s stomach settled down. Talking to women on land wasn’t so hard. Why had he anticipated an afternoon of indigestion? He might e
ven order a steak.
❧
When they entered the harness shop the next day, Caddie stopped just inside the door and inhaled deeply. The leather and oil smells reminded her of a saddle shop she’d visited once. A man who appeared to be in his thirties, with his blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and about two weeks’ growth of beard, worked at a raised counter. Aven approached him, and Caddie drifted to a side wall where tooled purses, soft briefcases, dog collars, and leather cuff bracelets hung on display racks.
“My sister, Robyn Holland, called you a couple of weeks ago about a harness,” Aven said.
The owner laid down his tools and nodded. “Yeah, I remember.” He stuck out his hand. “Brett Sellers.”
Aven shook his hand and introduced himself.
“Let me see. . .” Brett thumbed through a card file on the desk. “I quoted her a price on a complete set for ten dogs.”
“That’s right. She gave you the sizes?”
Caddie surreptitiously studied Aven’s profile. He was about four inches taller than she was—five-eleven, she guessed—and even now, trying to act casual about his sister’s errand, he maintained the officer’s posture. His dark hair reflected the overhead lighting. The contrast between his precise grooming and Sellers’s scruffy aura made her smile. Aven’s clean-shaven cheeks were smooth, and his firm jaw had just enough roundness to give the impression he was not too pliable, not too obstinate. He wore his jeans and Henley pullover as well as he did his uniform.
“Yes, I think I have all the information I’ll need,” the harness maker told Aven as he came from behind his counter. “Doesn’t your family host one of the smaller races every year?”
“Yeah, the Fire and Ice. My folks have organized that race for the last ten years.”
“Never been to it, but I’ve heard of it.”
“It’s a fun race. Only a hundred miles, but it’s got interesting terrain. Some of the mushers like to use it as a warm-up.”
“It’s earlier than the Iditarod?”
“Yeah. Middle of January.”
Brett lifted a bundle of nylon straps and hardware and placed it on the counter. “This is the style I recommended to her. She said she wanted good quality, but nothing fancy.”
Aven smiled. “That’s Robyn. She doesn’t want to spend any more than she has to, but she wants good stuff. She’s been getting by with old, patched equipment.”
“Can’t do that on the trail,” Brett said.
Caddie stepped forward, eyeing the heap of harness in surprise. “I thought it would all be leather.”
Brett grinned. “Things have changed a lot over the years. Dog harnesses are lighter and more durable now. Leather deteriorates faster than synthetics, it stretches more, and it takes longer to dry out. Besides, dogs like to chew it. I love doing leatherwork, but I put together dog harnesses as a sideline. I’ve done a few custom leather harnesses for show dogs, but for real work, you want nylon or cotton webbing and lots of padding around the collar.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, and Caddie listened as Aven told the artisan a little more about his family and the annual race they sponsored.
“I used to get around to some of the races when I lived in Fairbanks,” Brett said. He pointed out a few of the nicer points of the sturdy harness.
Aven fingered the straps and nodded. “Okay, I’ll take it. Can you put together what she needs while I wait, or should I come back?”
Brett grinned. “I had a feeling when she called Saturday and said her big brother would come look it over, so I took a look at the inventory. I just need a couple more components. I can have the full set ready in a couple of days.”
Aven laughed. “She called again? She didn’t tell me.”
“Yes, she did. I’ll have everything ready to her specifications.” Brett rang up the purchase, and Aven paid for it.
“Why did you move out here?” Aven asked. “Not many mushers live on the islands.”
“My girlfriend’s family lives out here. She didn’t like Fairbanks, so I agreed to move down here with her. I kind of like it here.” Brett nodded toward the display wall. “I don’t sell as many harnesses as I used to when I lived up there. I sell more tooled bags and dog leashes now than I do harness. But I do a fair amount of business over the Internet, and sometimes people call me for special orders.”
Aven and Caddie went out to the aging pickup. Aven opened the door for her and helped her up carefully. She held on to her cast as she scooted into the cab.
“How’s the arm doing?”
“Not too bad.” She checked her watch. Not time for her medication yet.
Aven headed the truck toward the center of Kodiak.
“That was nice of you to get the harness for Robyn,” Caddie said.
He flexed his shoulders. “Well, she needs it. The sponsors shouldn’t show up on race day with equipment tied together with twine. She’s saved up about two-thirds of the price, and I can kick in the rest.”
“It sounded as though she may have guessed you’d do that.”
“I didn’t think so, but maybe I’m more predictable than I thought.” Aven shook his head, smiling. “She was disappointed because she thought she had enough money, but prices were higher than she expected. She told me when I was home last weekend that she’d shopped online, but she couldn’t find a set as good as she wanted for anywhere near what she could afford. So I said I’d come look at what this guy had to offer and see if it was well made and worth waiting for.”
Caddie smiled. “She’ll be so happy when she gets it.”
“Yeah. I think I’ll ship it to her. I’d like to take it to her myself, but I doubt I’ll get home again before the end of summer. It’s rare to get two or three days off together this time of year.”
Caddie nodded. No need for explanations when they both understood exactly what life was like for Coast Guard personnel during tourist and fishing seasons. Either of their ships could be called at a moment’s notice for search and rescue details. The one constant in their lives was unpredictability.
“The mountains here are unbelievable,” she said, peering out the window.
“Yes, this is easily one of the most beautiful places on earth.” Aven grinned at her. “Too bad the weather’s so nasty most of the year.”
“I expect I’ll get my fill of it next winter, but it’s green and beautiful right now.”
“The Coast Guard will probably send you to the Fisheries Law Enforcement School for a few weeks during the worst of the winter.”
Caddie glanced down at her cast and scrunched up her face. “Too bad I can’t do it now, while my arm is keeping me from active duty. Hey, did I hear you say you’re from Wasilla?”
“A few miles outside of town. My folks bought the place when I was little, back when Dad worked for the oil company.”
“So you grew up there.”
Aven nodded. “Yeah. Robyn was born here in Alaska, at the hospital in Anchorage. I’m a transplant from Pennsylvania, but I don’t remember anything about it back there. I think I was two when we moved.”
“My family’s been all over, but we were in Washington when Dad died, so we stayed there.”
“What happened to your dad?”
She pulled in a deep breath, determined not to get teared up talking about it. “He was in the Coast Guard. Don’t know if you knew that.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah. He actually died while he was on duty.” She didn’t like to think about it. Remembering how he’d lost his life brought on the doubts she regularly battled. If Dad wasn’t tough enough, why should she think she was? “He served in Alaska for two years. At Homer.”
“Really?” Aven slowed for a turn. “When?”
“A long time ago. Right before I was born. He was transferred all over the map afterward, but he kept talking about it and saying he’d like to come back. He loved it here.”
“I can understand that.” Aven eyed her cautiously. “So. . .he didn’t
die while he served in Alaska?”
“No. He was posted at Seattle when it happened.” She smiled, hoping she could keep the tears in submission. “He talked a lot about coming back here. My mom didn’t really want to come, though. She didn’t like Alaska. She said Washington was far enough north for her.”
“Was she depressed? Seasonal affective disorder?”
“Is that the same as light deprivation sickness?”
“Yeah. The fancy name they use for it now.”
“Maybe. She didn’t like it and said she just wanted to hole up in winter and not go outside when it was dark.”
“How do you like it so far?”
“Oh, I like it. Of course, I’ve only seen the days-in-overdrive part.”
He laughed, and she felt encouraged to go on.
“I’ve always wanted to come here. Probably because of things Dad told us. I decided to get posted in Homer if I could. Kodiak was as close as I could get, but my ship was in Homer a few weeks ago. The Wintergreen stopped there to leave off some buoys, and I got to see a little of the town.”
“It’s beautiful there,” Aven said.
“I’ll say. The bay is absolutely gorgeous. All those volcanic mountains, and the spit running out into the water. . .”It was easier talking about the incredible terrain than Dad. If Aven would just drop the subject, she’d feel better.
“So, your dad was an officer.”
There it was again. “Yeah. He served thirty years. His last command was as skipper of a cutter out of Seattle. He used to joke that he’d served in nearly every district the Coast Guard has.”
Aven kept his eyes on the road. “So. . .you’ve signed on for a career?”
“Probably. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Well, since I was ten or so. I wanted to be just like Dad. I knew I couldn’t serve under him, but I figured when we had leave together, we could talk about our life at sea. I thought it would be so neat, wearing the uniform just like he did.” She smiled at her naiveté. “Dad’s death gave me second thoughts.”
“How so?” He pulled up at a stop sign and looked over at her.
Caddie shrugged, trying to marshal her thoughts. How much did she want to reveal? Too much might drive Aven away.
Always Ready Page 4