by Kim Baldwin
Emery slipped into the booth beside Bryson. “What a fabulous day. Can’t thank you enough.”
“Love to take you out again tomorrow,” Bryson said. “I’ve had a blast, too. Got charters, though, and I have to pick up Dita’s fishing group.”
“Oh, great. I’ve been wanting to talk to her. When does she get back?”
“Between five and five thirty tomorrow afternoon.” Pasha answered before Bryson had a chance to, giving Emery good reason to do what she most wanted—give Pasha her undivided attention. “Technically, that’s after we close, but I’ll keep the doors open if you want to come by.” Pasha seemed relaxed, but alert and aware. No sign of anything amiss or unusual tonight. At least not yet.
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
“And if you want some ideas for tomorrow since Bryson’s busy,” Pasha said, maintaining eye contact, “I can recommend a couple of things within walking distance.”
Emery tried to sound casual. “Maybe we can chat about them later.”
“Sure.” The reply sounded equally offhand, but didn’t match the intensity in Pasha’s eyes. They seemed to use their own private code, keeping the weirdness between them from the others, but acknowledging it with their eyes.
Emery hoped she wasn’t misinterpreting, but Pasha apparently wanted to talk to her as much as she wanted to.
“Pipeline.” Geneva appeared and set a tall glass of black stout with a thick tan froth before her. “Also called Black Gold. From the Moose’s Tooth Brewing Company.”
Pipeline, incredibly smooth and creamy, was more dessert than aperitif, but Emery loved a good stout. “Wonderful stuff.”
“You a beer aficionado?” Pasha asked.
Emery nodded. “Sort of. You missed my full bio last night. They grilled me pretty good.” The others smiled.
“That was only the warm-up,” Megan warned her with mock seriousness. “We thought we’d give you a day or two before we get to the really personal ones.”
Emery played along. “Uh-oh. Should I be worried?”
“Depends. Have you ever played Truth or Dare?”
“Sure.”
“Well, we call our variation Probing Questions. On trips we use it as an icebreaker. Fun way to get to know someone,” Megan said. “And also appropriate to initiate new members into our club. ADLIB.”
“ADLIB?”
“Adventurous Dykes Living In Bettles. You’ll be the eighth member.”
“Cool. I’m honored.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow night after Dita gets back. Geneva’s working the day shift, so we can all be there,” Bryson said.
Grizz came to get their orders, then they started sharing stories, with Emery first relaying her gold-panning experience in great detail. Karla talked about some of her unusual and funny cases, Chaz and Pasha shared information about their upcoming trips, and Bryson volunteered a few of her misadventures. In general, they just got to know each other better, amidst so much laughter their sides hurt.
The women’s rapid-fire back-and-forth wisecracks, the kind of teasing familiarity that came from close camaraderie, entertained Emery. She liked them a lot already and more each day. Despite the merriment of the evening, however, she wanted the group to break up early so she could spend some time one-on-one with Pasha. Emery could hardly keep her eyes off her and had to force herself to give equal time to whoever was talking. And every time she looked at Pasha, Pasha was looking her way.
Pasha also frequently found ways to slip questions to Emery into the conversation, without being too obvious. Not the usual where are you from, what do you do, and what are your favorite food types of questions, like she’d received the night before. But queries that went deeper, more thoughtful ones that could reveal quite a lot. The latest, slipped into an exchange between Megan and Karla about their fear of small planes, provided a prime example.
“Are you afraid of anything, Emery?”
The question took her by surprise, and her first potential light replies included “Beanie Babies,” maybe, or “tapioca pudding,” or “mayonnaise.” She usually deflected invasively personal questions by going for a laugh. But Pasha’s eyes locked with hers, and she couldn’t lie. “I don’t like elevators.”
Chapter Fifteen
Pasha decided to pursue Emery’s answer further when they were alone. She sensed Emery considered not answering and didn’t want to elaborate. But the power had verified that she’d answered truthfully and provided a significant answer.
Pasha’s gift had so far succeeded in getting her attention, and possibly Emery’s, in spades. Now, it had become a guide.
Pasha had sensed when Emery left her room and headed downstairs, because the power increased exponentially with each step she took. By the time Emery hit the bottom step, Pasha’s whole body vibrated.
When Emery appeared in the doorway, the vibrations stilled again, leaving Pasha totally calm, like she’d just had a massage. And for the first time, the special aura shimmered around Emery, as with every other significant person in her life, though not a rainbow.
Emery’s aura shimmered gold.
Ecstasy filled Pasha, Emery’s reaction amplifying her bliss. She’d entered with an anxious, expectant expression and immediately sought the corner booth and, in particular, her. Once she’d spotted Pasha, she never looked away, their smiles triggering simultaneously as Emery hurried toward her. Had she begun to feel something, too?
Emery sat just a few feet away. Her aura had faded, though Pasha sensed the power remained nearby, content to let her behave normally but ready to flare up if necessary. Relaxed and serene, she became her old self again, but with enhanced alertness, her senses heightened to fully absorb the moment.
For most of the evening, the power lay in silent wait. But as she asked Emery more serious questions, her gift told her when to pay especially close attention. Another brief aura would shimmer around Emery when she confided something important.
The gang chatted happily, laughing so much no one seemed inclined to leave soon. As the evening wore on, Pasha became increasingly impatient to speak to Emery privately. If everyone was still there at nine thirty—just a couple of minutes away now—she’d create an excuse to get Emery alone. Much later than that, Emery would likely decline.
Pasha waited for the first lull in the conversation to pull out her wallet. “I’m heading out, ladies. Need to stop by the office before I turn in.” She dropped enough bills to cover her share of the check. “If you want to walk with me, Emery, I can give you some material on things you might want to do between trips.”
“That’d be great. I’ll just run upstairs and get my jacket.” Emery slid out of the booth. “Thank you all for another wonderful evening, ladies. I had a great time.” The others said good night or good-bye as she headed toward the stairs.
Pasha felt a keen sense of loss when Emery left. After only a couple of minutes, the sensation shifted and swelled to her now-familiar anticipation and joy as Emery returned. Very tidal-like, she mused.
“Ready when you are.” Emery extended a hand signaling Pasha to lead the way, so she headed for the door. Once they were outside, Emery asked, “No more dizzy episodes today, I take it?”
“No. All good.”
“It was…worrying,” Emery said softly.
“No need. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“That’s comforting.”
Pasha froze the images in her memory: Emery’s glossy dark hair, tossed by the breeze, bangs obscuring her face; the faint smell of wood smoke; the crunch of their boots over the loose gravel. They fell into step together at a slow, easy pace, as though neither wanted to rush this opportunity. Walking beside Emery felt so right.
“Tell me about this initiation thing you’re putting me through tomorrow night,” Emery said.
“Honestly, we’re playing it by ear. We only named the group a few days ago, and you’re our first recruit. We voted to play Probing Questions, but that’s about as far as we’ve g
otten.”
“How personal do these questions get?”
“Every game varies, because the participants make up the questions. When we play it on trips, they tend to be mild, unless the clients all know each other. Or are all lesbians,” she said with a laugh. Emery didn’t smile at the comment, and Pasha immediately regretted the levity. “Not that you have to answer anything you don’t want to.”
She stopped walking. Emery pulled up short, too, and faced her.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with a couple of my questions at dinner,” Pasha said. “I’m just…very interested in getting to know you.”
Emery’s dark brown eyes softened. “I didn’t mind them, coming from you. But I don’t usually volunteer some things about myself.”
The coming from you warmed Pasha. “If I step over the line, just tell me.”
“I’ll say the same, since I hope to get to know you better, too.”
“Deal. Come on, then.” Pasha let them in the office and led Emery to the back lounge. “Have a seat. I can make decaf, if you’d like some.”
“Sure.”
“How do you take it?”
“Black, please.”
As Pasha scooped grounds into a filter, Emery asked, “What brought you to Alaska? You’re not from here, are you?”
“No. I’ve been here less than two years. I saw an ad for this job and it caught my eye.” She hit the Brew button and the carafe began to fill. “I like it a lot. The work’s fun, the people eclectic, but really down-to-earth. They care about each other. And, of course, you can’t beat the view.”
“I always dreamed about visiting Alaska,” Emery said. “You?”
“No, not really. I mean, I remember seeing movies shot here and thinking about the spectacular scenery.” She poured two mugs full. “But I never dreamed I’d be living here.”
“Have you always been a guide?” Emery asked as they settled into two of the cushy chairs with their mugs.
Pasha had opted to turn on the lamp beside the microwave instead of the overhead fluorescents, the resulting ambience thankfully more living-room-like than hospital-sterile. “To be absolutely honest, our photography trip will be my first as a guide. I’ve been training for more than a year.”
“I can’t wait to get out there. Just think, forty-eight hours from now, we’ll be chatting like this beside a campfire.”
“Yup. And the spot’s breathtaking. I flew supplies to it last year.”
“Bryson showed me the landing site. She said the area has an abundance of wildlife.” Emery sipped her coffee and looked thoughtfully at Pasha. “Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, you have an advantage. At least you have my questionnaire.” Emery nodded toward the pile of client files on the coffee table. “I don’t even have your basics.”
“Okay. Let’s see.” Pasha flipped open the nearest folder and scanned the vital statistics required of clients. “To even things up, I was thirty-five on February 13th. Blond hair, green eyes—”
“Wheat-blond. And pale-green eyes, to be precise. The color of limes before they’re fully ripe. Very unusual.”
Pasha looked up from the file, pleased Emery had noted their precise color. Her cheeks warmed as their eyes met. Ordinarily, she didn’t make the first move, but her instinct screamed, “Go for it.” Glancing at the paper, she said, “I’m five-five, weigh one-twenty, no health issues, not on any medication, I live in the apartment right above us…”
Prompted by the final blank spaces on the client questionnaire, she jotted down some numbers on a Post-it note, closed the file with a flourish, and handed Emery the note. Pasha couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. “Here’s my phone number. And I’m single.”
Emery laughed and carefully tucked the yellow slip into the thin wallet she’d stuffed into her back pocket.
“Now we’re even, so to give you the advantage, I’ll add that I’m left-handed,” Pasha said, “and a bit of an organization freak. I love ethnic food, and I’m not seeing anyone right now.” Pasha wasn’t nearly ready to divulge anything about the power and its revelations about Emery. She’d learned long ago that many people viewed the idea of premonitions as preposterous or flaky. Some, even when confronted with evidence, remained skeptical. But she would at least let Emery know, if she didn’t already, that she was definitely interested.
“Well, as you may know, I plan to see Geneva,” Emery said. “It’s not serious. We’ve barely spent any time together, and I don’t know where it’s going.”
“Geneva’s a good friend, and I don’t want to create an awkward situation. But if it’s not serious yet, I just wanted you to know I’d like to go out with you, too.”
Emery smiled. “I’d like that very much. And I appreciate how straightforward you’re being. I can’t tell you how much I value the art of speaking frankly. So many women I’ve met like games and drama.” She sipped her coffee and studied Pasha’s face, her expression difficult to read.
Pasha tensed. Was she being duplicitous by not telling Emery about her premonitions? Her gift, a lifelong, integral part of her, was a much more important and vital statistic than her address or phone number, and clearly responsible for her determination to date Emery. Was she doing the right thing by not immediately volunteering it?
“You probably know Geneva better than I do. How do you think she’d react to me dating both of you?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest.” Pasha had never known Geneva to be spiteful or bitter over a match that didn’t last. Bryson said Gen had been incredibly supportive of her relationship with Karla, though she still carried a torch for her. “She might be fine with it, since she and I are friends and because you two haven’t gone out long. But…well, Geneva wears her heart on her sleeve. She can fall pretty fast for someone and take a long time to get over them.”
Emery cradled her mug in both hands and looked earnestly at Pasha. “I told her right up front, like I tell every woman I may become intimate with, I’m only interested in fun. No strings, and no emotional involvement. I don’t do relationships.”
Pasha managed to say only, “I see.” The unexpected pronouncement made her fight not to let her disappointment show. How could her gift lead her to an emotionally unavailable woman?
“Are you all right with those terms? Still want to go out?”
“Yup.” Pasha didn’t hesitate, though her instinct for self-preservation told her to proceed cautiously. The power pulling them together insisted on seeing where this led.
Emery smiled and relaxed against the seat, seeming visibly relieved, like she wasn’t sure Pasha would agree to a brief affair. “Geneva needs to know I’m seeing both of you. How should I tell her?”
“I can talk to her, or you. I doubt it matters.”
“I will, then,” Emery said. “I’ll catch her after her shift tonight.”
“I promised you some information on things to do around here.” Pasha went to the file cabinet to retrieve some stuff they’d put together for clients. “Birch Hill Lake is about a three-mile walk from here. The trail starts in Evansville, behind the medical clinic.” She handed several Xeroxed pages to Emery, including a topographic map with the trail clearly marked. “Definitely worth a day hike. Great views, lots of wildflowers. Pretty easy terrain, but boggy in spots, so make sure you have the right footwear.”
Emery glanced at her polished leather boots. “No worries. I’ve got others.”
“If you go alone, make sure you take plenty of water and pack a lunch. And…” Pasha returned to the file cabinet and dug through the bottom drawer. “Pepper spray, and a PLB.”
“PLB?”
“Personal locator beacon.” She gave Emery the cell-phone-sized device, along with a small metal cylinder in a leather case. “We make sure we have at least one every trip. Needless to say, don’t activate it unless you need to. Search-and-rescue here provides them.”
“I’ve got a GPS, as well.”
Emery stuffed the two items into her jacket pockets. “You think I might run into a bear?” She showed no fear at the prospect, unlike many clients. Some, freaked out, asked about the possibility when they called to inquire about wilderness trips.
“It’s always a possibility. Though I haven’t heard of any problems around Birch Hill Lake, you’ll see some large berry patches up there. Do you know how to act if you encounter a grizzly and he sees you?”
Emery nodded. “Stay calm. Don’t run or make eye contact. Speak normally and wave your arms so he can identify you as human. Back up slowly. Climbing a tree may help—if you can get high enough fast enough. Worst case—if he charges, stand your ground and use the spray once he’s within twenty feet or so. Ball into a fetal position on your side if that doesn’t work, protect your stomach and head. Play dead. That about cover it?”
“You’ve done your homework.” Emery had certainly prepared well. “Also good to make yourself look big when you first see him. Spread your jacket out. Stand tall. And watch out for two situations in particular. Moms with cubs—this is the right time of year for that—and bears protecting their kill sites. If you see a lot of scavenger birds—ravens and such—congregating in an area, for example, get out of there as quickly as possible.”
“Got it.”
“And make noise while you walk and when you stop. Sing, hum, whatever. The village store sells bear bells you can hang on your belt or pack. Bears don’t like surprises and usually will give you a wide berth if they know you’re there.” Pasha refilled their mugs before she settled back in her chair next to Emery. “Those sheets I gave you contain all that information and discuss some ways to react around black bears. We have them, too, but you’re even less likely to meet one. Oh, and you’ll find photos identifying some of the local wildflowers and birds.”
“Sounds like you’ll be a great guide.”
“I hope so. I’ve had incredible teachers, particularly Lars Rasmussen, Karla’s brother-in-law. He’s guided here for a couple of decades and really knows his stuff. He’s also an incredibly sweet guy.”