Oh, for those long-ago carefree days! The excitement of life in San Diego had pushed precious memories aside. Now they returned full force, along with contempt for herself. “How could I have fallen prey to the lure of fool’s gold after knowing Jean?” Ariel whispered.
A tap at the door interrupted her. “Yes?”
“Madam would like to see you in the library,” the Patten butler announced. “She seems dreadfully upset, Miss Ariel.”
The troubled girl’s heart sank. She should have told Aunt Rebekah the minute she got home instead of cowardly hiding in her room. Heart pounding, she rose and followed the butler downstairs into the library.
Rebekah Patten, hair as fair as Ariel’s except threaded with silver, occupied a throne-like chair beside the fireplace. Ariel marveled at how little the beauty that captured a wealthy husband and elevated Aunt Rebekah to the top of San Diego society decades earlier had faded.
Blue eyes snapping, her aunt demanded. “I’ve just learned you threw a tantrum and broke your engagement because Emmet Carey refused to let you browbeat him into taking you to Ketchikan for what he called a ‘winterlude,’ whatever that is.”
“Breathing space to get away from San Diego.”
“What triggered this off? And why at this particular time?”
Ariel stared at the ring finger that felt strangely light without the Carey heirloom betrothal ring. “I saw a snowflake.”
Rebekah gasped. “A snowflake? Have you taken leave of your senses? Snow seldom falls in San Diego and never at this time of year.”
With a rustle of skirts, Ariel rushed across the room and flung herself onto the priceless Oriental rug by her aunt’s chair. “I really did see a snowflake. It was on the windshield of Emmet’s car, as out of place here as I am.” She grasped her aunt’s well-cared-for hand. “Will you do something for me? Something I want more than anything in the world.”
Rebekah’s eyebrows rose. “That depends on what it is.”
“I want to go home. I know I promised to stay a year, but I miss Ketchikan so much—and Dad.” Scalding tears escaped.
“Then your break with Emmet is final? Does it have anything to do with his mother? I never could stand her.”
Relief flowed through Ariel. At least Aunt Rebekah wasn’t chastising her without hearing her side of the story. “His mother is only part of it. It’s Emmet. And the Carey cook.” A nervous giggle escaped. “Would you believe that Emmet checked his watch and was more concerned about offending the cook by our being late for lunch than taking me home so he could meet Dad!”
Rebekah’s hand tightened on hers. She said nothing, but Ariel detected the beginning of sympathy in the watching eyes.
“The snowflake made me realize I could never promise, as Ruth did in the Bible, ‘whither thou goest, I will go…thy people shall be my people.’ Another scripture came to mind: ‘Be ye not unequally yoked….’ Who could be more unequally yoked than an Alaskan fisherman’s daughter and a pillar of California society?” Ariel sprang to her feet. “Emmet had the nerve to tell me it was a good thing you rescued me from life among uncivilized fishermen, except it was too bad it wasn’t sooner, and that—”
Rebekah interrupted. “Didn’t you tell him your father is the uncrowned king of the Alaskan salmon industry? Unlike the Careys, he inherited nothing but built an empire.”
“It didn’t impress Emmet. Not even that in the fish famine of 1927 when fish failed to come to Dixon Industries, Dad pursued them. He kept the business afloat, although thirty other canneries went broke.”
Ariel choked back indignation. “After Mother died, Dad told me, ‘It’s just you and me now, mate. Our Father in heaven will see us through. God loved all the people in the world enough to send Jesus to die so those who believe on Him can live forever. He will make sure your mother’s happy until we go to her.’” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It was the only time I ever saw Dad cry.”
Rebekah sniffed and Ariel brushed away her own tears. “How did I ever think I could abandon Alaska, the thrill and challenge of facing and conquering wilderness and weather? How would I feel to never again stand with a swaying deck beneath my feet? Or hear Dad bellowing fishermen’s songs one moment and offering prayers the next? I’ve been living in Emmet’s world and agreeing with everything he suggested. What would Dad think of my becoming a spineless jellyfish?”
“How did your father respond when you announced your engagement?”
Ariel squirmed. “His telegram only said I was twenty-four and should be old enough to choose my mate.”
Rebekah grunted. “Should be old enough can mean anything. So why did you want to take Emmet to Ketchikan?”
“Dad says you find out what’s real when you pit folks against a squall at sea or a blinding snowstorm. Away from civilization people learn to know one another. I asked Emmet to take me home, marry me, and spend our honeymoon there so he could learn who I really am.”
“And?”
“He said that even if it wouldn’t upset his mother’s plans for a Valentine’s Day wedding, the last place he intended to spend his honeymoon was in such a godforsaken place. Suddenly life with Emmet yawned before me like a crevasse in a snowfield. ‘His’ wedding. ‘His’ honeymoon. Not ours. I couldn’t help wondering if God had sent the snowflake to warn me.”
Ariel continued. “Anyway, I told Emmet if he wouldn’t go with me, I’d go alone. He gave me an I-know-what’s-best-for-you smile and reminded me of all the engagement obligations I had in the next few months. He ended by saying he couldn’t permit his fiancée to go running off to Alaska. It would cause people to talk.”
Aunt Rebekah crossed her arms and scowled. “Pompous donkey. Then what?”
The unexpected epithet generated a fountain of laughter in Ariel. It spilled into the quiet room like a happy waterfall. “I tore the engagement ring off, shoved it into his hand, and said, ‘Your fiancée won’t go, Emmet. I shall.’”
“Good for you!” Rebekah laughed until tears came. “What did he say?”
“Just that I’d come to my senses soon enough. In the meantime, how could he explain to his mother and their friends that I wasn’t wearing my ring?” Ariel hung her head. “I wasn’t very nice. I replied, ‘Tell them—and the cook—your fisherman’s daughter turned into a mermaid and went back to live in the sea.’ Emmet was gasping like a salmon out of water when I slipped through the ornate gate between his estate and yours. Aunt Rebekah, the closing clang sounded like a toll of freedom from a prison I hadn’t realized surrounded me.”
For a long moment, only the ponderous tick of the grandfather clock in the corner broke the silence. Then Rebekah said, “So what are you going to do now?”
“Go home and take you with me if you will come,” Ariel burst out. “It would be awkward to stay here with the Careys just next door.”
“Are you sure you don’t just need your winterlude?” Rebekah probed. “Ariel, did you honestly think Emmet could have passed the test, even if he’d agreed to go to Alaska with you?”
She sighed. “I felt it only fair to give him a chance to realize I’m not soft clay from which he can create his ideal woman, undoubtedly a replica of his mother.”
“God forbid!” was Rebekah’s fervent answer. Then she smiled. “If you feel like that, you must never marry Emmet, for his sake as well as yours. Money and prestige don’t bring happiness. Your uncle and I married for love. Even if the riches had never come, we would still have been happy.”
“Like Dad and Mother.”
Rebekah blinked. “How do you know? Your mother died when you were young.”
“Dad told me that when he stands at the wheel of a ship and sails into the sunset or sunrise, he feels her presence. When he comes home at the end of a weary day, he half expects her to come running to meet him.” Ariel drew a ragged breath. “That’s why he never remarried. With that example, I can’t believe I was so blinded by riches and attention as to think I loved Emmet.”
Rebekah sniffe
d again. “Any girl would be flattered by his attention. After all, he’s heir to a fortune and the crème de la crème of San Diego society.” She hesitated, then asked, “Ariel, did you have no sweethearts in Alaska?”
“Many friends, but only one touched my heart.” Ariel stared at her hands. “As children, Jean Thoreau and I vowed to always be together. I was twelve and he was fifteen when his family went away. No one seemed to know why or where. Today while telling Emmet about Ketchikan, I mentioned forget-me-nots.”
A poignant feeling of regret and loss went through her. “The last time I saw Jean, he picked a single forget-me-not. He promised to someday come back to me, but I never heard from him again. I pressed the tiny blue flower and put it in my Bible. There are still a few shreds left.”
“Was your childhood friend like Emmet?”
“Not at all. He was slim and dark. French Canadian. He could leap like a mountain goat and run like a deer. Dad taught us about boats, to swim, shoot rifles, pistols, bows and arrows. He insisted we learn how to survive if caught in a blizzard or storm at sea. Dad gave us everything we needed to live in a land that’s both magnificent and cruel.”
“I’m sorry your friend disappeared.”
So am I.
“Well, Ariel, I don’t intend to be cheated of my year with you.”
The troubled girl felt hollow inside. Would Aunt Rebekah insist on keeping her in San Diego for the rest of the appointed time? Ariel bit her lips to hide her disappointment, but the older woman continued.
“I think we had best send a telegram to your father then arrange for this news clip to appear in tomorrow’s Evening Tribune under the headline: ‘Rebekah Patten to Journey North.’
“Mrs. Rebekah Patten, widow of Frederick Patten, well-known financier, today disclosed her plans to leave San Diego in the height of the winter season for an extended visit to Alaska. Accompanying her is her niece, Ariel Dixon, whose beauty and charm has taken our fair city by storm. Miss Dixon is the daughter of Thomas Dixon, who is highly respected throughout Canada and the entire northwest—the man largely responsible for turning Ketchikan into the Salmon Capital.”
Ariel gave an excited squeal. “Do you mean it? What will the Careys do?”
“The Careys—and their cook—can go hang!”
The out-of-character comment from her elegant aunt sent Ariel into hysterics. She finally wiped her eyes and asked, “How soon can we go?”
“Tomorrow.” Rebekah smirked. “Wealth and position have their usefulness. Besides, if I know Emmet, he will wait a few days for you to come to your senses and realize you are actually giving up him and the Carey fortune before contacting you. By then we’ll be long gone.” She paused. “It’s only fair that he receives word from you before the paper comes out. Write a note, but just say, ‘I meant everything I said. Goodbye, Emmet.’ Leave it at that.”
Chapter 2
Jean Thoreau bounded up the steps of the Dixon home, paused on the wide, covered porch, and stared down the hundred-foot cliff that overlooked Ketchikan. A wave of thankfulness swept through him. How he loved the comfortable, weathered log house! “Lord, I will never tire of looking across Tongass Narrows to the forests of Pennock Island. I love those green carpets edging the salt chuck of the Narrows.”
He closed his eyes and breathed in the briny November air. Visions of changing seasons, each unique and treasured, danced through Jean’s head. Quaking aspens, whispering secrets in summer, turning gold in autumn, dropping their leaves to shiver in winter. Wild roses, bluebells, and columbine that nodded in the breeze. Forget-me-nots, bluer than the summer skies.
A pang went through him. Would he ever see a forget-me-not without remembering? He fought familiar pain and muttered, “No use crying over what can’t be changed.” Yet the desire to board the first plane out of Ketchikan and snatch Ariel Dixon from a future foreign to everything she had known and loved threatened to overwhelm him. Why had her father allowed his sister-in-law to take Ariel to the States a few months before Jean came home and hired on as Big Tom’s cannery superintendent?
Jean scowled. It had been long enough for the girl to whom he’d remained true to betroth herself, in spite of their vow to always be together. Jean’s sense of fair play rose in Ariel’s defense.
What could you expect? You were gone for twelve years.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Jean protested.
“What wasn’t your fault?”
Jean gulped and turned. He hadn’t heard the door open but Tom Dixon stood in the doorway, grinning like a well-fed husky. The uncrowned salmon king brushed a tawny lock of hair back from his green eyes and waved a yellow piece of paper. The excitement in his face made Jean’s heart beat double time.
Tom didn’t wait for a reply. “Listen to this:
“TROT OUT THE FATTED CALF Stop. COMING HOME Stop. BRINGING AUNT REBEKAH Stop. WILL SAIL ON…”
Ariel, coming home? Jean leaped into the air and let out a bellow that brought Molly, the Indian cook, running. He swung her around until her dark braids bounced. “She’s coming home, Molly.”
White teeth gleamed in the dark face. “God is good.”
A lump rose to Jean’s throat. “Yes, but I wonder why she didn’t mention her fiancé.”
“Pah.” Molly waved a dismissive hand. “She will forget him when she comes and finds you are here.”
Jean felt he’d been kicked in the gut. He stared at Tom. “All these months, you never told her?”
Tom shrugged his massive shoulders. Deep lines creased his forehead. “By the time you came back, she was already promised.”
“She had the right to know,” Jean ground out between stiff lips.
“I’ve told myself that a thousand times,” Tom confessed. “The important thing is what to do now.” A gleam came into his eyes. “How would you like to fly to Seattle, take care of some business for me there, and sail back up the Inside Passage?”
Jean’s heart leaped. “You have a specific date in mind?”
His boss smirked. “Now that you mention it…how soon can you pack?”
“Getting up before dawn and standing at the rail won’t get us to Ketchikan any sooner,” Rebekah Patten acidly observed from her comfortable shipboard berth a few days after she and Ariel had fled from San Diego. But the sparkle in her eyes belied her complaint.
Ariel cocked her head to one side. She planted her hands on her ivory flannel–covered hips, and grinned. “Lazybones miss the best part of the day.”
Her aunt scowled. “Lazybones! My dear niece, it isn’t yet five o’clock. Even the sun’s asleep. I don’t remember you rising this early in California.”
“That’s because I stayed up until all hours.” Ariel secured her hair at the nape of her neck. “Auntie, ever since we flew to Seattle it’s like I left all my troubles in San Diego.” She dropped to the berth in the best accommodations the ship afforded. “How do you like it so far? Isn’t Puget Sound grand?”
“I didn’t realize it offered such glorious scenery,” Rebekah admitted. “All those islands huddled in the water like giant tortoises.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Ariel promised. “Wait until we reach the Inside Passage. It stretches more than one thousand miles, from Seattle to Skagway. Except for one short stretch of open sea, we’ll steam between the mainland and a coastline so rugged it resembles the Scandinavian fjords. We may see whales, bears, and other wild animals.”
She chuckled. “Ship captains often rely on the echo of the ship’s whistle to help them steer a safe course in the narrow places. Fog and sharp turns can catch the unwary off guard.” She smiled. “I am so glad you’re going with me. I just wish you’d stay with us forever.”
“Nonsense. I’m a bossy old woman who’ll drive your father to distraction. He’s likely to throw me out long before that. Besides, my dear Frederick is buried in San Diego. Still, if Alaska is as grand as you say, I’ll come again. Now be on your way so I can get dressed. Good thing we went shopping in Seatt
le.” She shivered. “My San Diego wardrobe wasn’t suitable for this colder climate.”
Ariel slipped into a warmly lined parka of silvery green and went on deck. At the steamship rail she faced north and reveled in the predawn chill. It seemed incredible that she’d ever considered renouncing Alaska for Emmet. You’d have been glad to do so if you had really loved him, her conscience reminded.
“Perhaps, but I don’t,” she told the friendly stars, glittering white against the night-dark sky. “I’m just thankful I learned in time how little we have in common.” Ariel turned toward the east that had swallowed her playmate twelve long years ago. Sadness filled her. Jean Thoreau had never broken a promise. He must be dead.
A long time later, the ship’s bell roused her. Ariel smoothed her hair, exchanged the parka for a hand-knit ivory fishermen’s sweater, and hurried to the dining room. Aunt Rebekah sat in solitary state at a table set for five; a beaming waiter stood nearby. Ariel seated herself. “What are you doing here all alone?”
“The captain was called away, and passengers evidently eat at a more civilized hour. What will you have?”
“Flannel cakes, a beefsteak—medium rare—fried potatoes, orange juice, and coffee.”
“I’ll have the same.”
Ariel stared. Her aunt never ate a hearty breakfast. Ariel choked and reached for her water glass. It promptly fell over.
“May I?” An amused voice accompanied a slim, tanned hand that snatched a napkin and vainly tried to stop the cascade pouring onto Ariel’s lap.
“Thank you, waiter. Will you hold my order, please? I’ll have to change.”
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