“I have. Not that Frederick would have cared. He never kowtowed to anyone.” Her face turned somber. “I didn’t know how much I wanted to break free after he died until you came, Ariel, fresh and unspoiled as your homeland.”
“Why didn’t you visit us sooner?” Tom asked.
“I was never invited.”
The sadness in her voice pierced Ariel’s tender heart. She choked out, “If we’d dreamed you felt this way, Dad and I would have seen to it you came even if we had to kidnap you.”
“I wish you had.” Rebekah pounded the potatoes again. “No use wasting time on what’s done. Now get to the table or these potatoes will be mush.”
Ariel couldn’t forget the older woman’s expression. Late that evening when she and Jean bundled up for a walk, she said, “It is heartbreaking when there is a misunderstanding between those who love each other.”
His quick intake of breath sent an arrow of pain into her. His “oui” betrayed the long years of suffering in Nova Scotia. Ariel wrapped her hands around Jean’s mackinaw-clad arm. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to him, she vowed. What Emmet called a “winterlude” is actually only a prelude for Jean and me.
Jean’s hand tightened over hers. “What is it, chérie?”
“When can we be married?” Ariel blurted out. By the light of a million stars she saw radiance spring to Jean’s face.
“It shall be as your father says, but I hope it can be very soon.”
“So do I. I’m not sure how long we can convince Auntie to stay.” Foreboding touched her. “Besides, I have a terrible feeling that if we tarry too long something might happen to separate us again.”
Jean stopped short, freed his arm from her clutching fingers, and drew her close. “Non. Only death can do that.”
The shelter of his arms lessened but did not fully dispel Ariel’s fears. She cast a glance toward the glittering sky. A favorite psalm came to mind. “When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him?”
A silent prayer followed. You are mindful of us, Lord. Please protect and guide us so we may live for You. Wrapped in Jean’s love and the knowledge that God cared for His own, Ariel felt the shackles of fear that encircled her heart loosen and fall.
Knowing Rebekah was happily ensconced in Molly’s kitchen when Ariel wasn’t showing her around Ketchikan gave Ariel the freedom to roam her beloved country during every spare moment.
Rain inevitably came, but nothing dampened Ariel’s spirits. While Jean was busy running Dixon Industries during the day, she scooted about in her cabin cruiser, the Sea Sprite. Except for having Aunt Rebekah in Ketchikan, Ariel’s California odyssey seemed unreal. Emmet receded to little more than a cardboard character in a meaningless, long-ago play. Every day her love for Jean grew stronger. She gazed down the pathway of years ahead and smiled.
Ariel’s love of poetry also rekindled. She had only quoted poetry to Emmet once, a passage from James Russell Lowell’s The Vision of Sir Launfal that both she and her father loved.
“And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten….”
Emmet had smiled indulgently and said, “You surprise me, little Eskimo. Isn’t Robert Service the only poet Alaskans quote? I’d think ‘The Shooting of Dan McGrew’ or ‘The Cremation of Sam McGee’ would be more to your father’s taste.”
His lack of appreciation for the passage that expressed Ariel’s deepest feelings about Alaska cut to the quick. “Robert Service worked as a bank clerk in Whitehorse and Dawson and found material for his poetry,” she said. “Dad and I appreciate those ballads for what they are. So would you if you’d experienced the hardship and violence of the gold rush to the Yukon in the late 1890s.”
“Deliver me.” Emmet yawned, obviously bored. “Glad to find out your literary taste includes something higher.” He changed the subject to an upcoming tennis match.
Ariel subsided.
Now she berated herself for appearing acquiescent when she had inwardly seethed. The man she had chosen—nay, he had chosen her, and she had been flattered enough to mistake infatuation for love—had never understood. How easy to see through Emmet and his family here in this untamed land. How impossible when surrounded by the dazzle of pomp and ceremony that ordered the Careys’ lives!
Chapter 5
Late one afternoon, Ariel and Jean stood on the wide veranda of the Dixon home. Encircled by Jean’s sinewy arm, with a curtain of rain that shrouded everything a few feet from the porch, Ariel felt as if no outside forces could touch them.
“Ariel,” he said, “you are what the Bible describes as the perfect woman.”
A rush of pleasure swept through her. “I am?”
“Yes.” Laugh lines crinkled the tanned skin around his velvet-black eyes. “‘Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.’”
Ariel laughed.
Jean stared at her. “What’s funny about my saying my bride-to-be is virtuous?”
“Nothing.” But she couldn’t control her laughter. “The scripture reminds me of what happened when Aunt Rebekah and I attended church a few weeks ago in San Diego. The elderly minister quoted that verse. The congregation immediately burst out laughing.” Ariel wiped her eyes. “The minister’s wife sat in the front row…and her name was Ruby.”
“No wonder everyone laughed!”
Ariel’s shoulders shook. “The funniest thing was how long it took the minister to realize why his congregation was out of control.”
“Speaking of control, why hasn’t your former fiancé rushed to Ketchikan in pursuit of his lady-love?” Jean demanded. “What kind of man is he anyway?”
Ariel bit back the words, one you could never fathom. “First, I’m not Emmet’s lady-love. What’s more, if he wouldn’t come with me when we were engaged, why should he come now that we aren’t?”
Jean raised his eyebrows and grinned. “From what you’ve told me about the Careys, they don’t easily give up their possessions, and it sounds as if that’s what Emmet considered you. He could at least have written.” Jean gave a sound of disgust. “It’s not like there are a lot of Ariel Dixons in Ketchikan.”
“Just one. A girl who is going to marry you, thank God. Not Emmet Carey.”
Love replaced the teasing in Jean’s expressive eyes. His arm tightened. “Oui. And on that day Jean Thoreau will be the happiest man in all of Alaska.”
Ariel stood on tiptoe, kissed him, and said, “The rain has changed to mist. Let’s put on boots and oilskins in case it rains again and walk down to the dock.”
A few minutes later they started down the zigzag trail that led to town. Ariel loved how the huge evergreen branches from both sides of the well-worn footpath crisscrossed overhead and made the walkway a green tunnel.
Jean took her hand. “Do you remember walking here?”
“It seems like yesterday.” She swallowed a sob.
“Don’t look back,” Jean said in a husky voice. “Remember Lot’s wife. I don’t want to honeymoon with a pillar of salt.”
Ariel blinked. How like Jean to be serious one moment and joking the next!
Just before they turned into the final switchback before reaching town, she paused. The heavy branches overhead offered protection from the dwindling rain. “Jean, something bothers me.” She took a deep breath then slowly released it. “You said when you returned to Ketchikan and found I was betrothed, you wondered why you had come back. Then Dad said you were an answer to prayer and he needed you as the cannery superintendent. Carl and Swen showed up before you could explain.”
She felt a blush mount from the collar of her oilskin slicker into her cheeks. “I’ve had other things to
think about since then, and what you said slipped to the back of my mind. I do remember Carl bragging that the cannery at Dixon Cove put up a bigger pack this year with you running it than it ever did with Thad Olson as boss. What happened to Thad?”
A dark shadow spread over Jean’s face. “He sold out.”
Ariel felt like she’d been kicked by an irate moose. “After all his years as superintendent for Dad?”
Jean’s face darkened even more. “Your dad said thanking God for my coming back wasn’t just idle talk. There was dirty work going on, and he needed me to help fight it. On the eve of what could be the best haul in years, Thad went over to your father’s biggest competitor. No replacement was available so late in the season. Tom said he’d take on the superintendent job himself but needed to be out with the fleet.”
“Thad Olson? I’d have staked my life on his loyalty!” Ariel cried.
Jean ground his teeth. “They say every man has his price. Evidently Thad did. Anyway, your dad asked if I’d take the job and help put up a record pack.” Ariel felt Jean’s muscles relax before he added, “I believe it was God’s answer to the prayers I’d offered all the way from Nova Scotia to Ketchikan. Even though you were lost to me, I could help your father.” He smiled into Ariel’s eyes and set her heart fluttering. “I’m glad I stayed.”
“So am I,” she choked out.
Jean looked troubled. “Thad not only turned traitor. Now he acts like I’m his worst enemy. Maybe he’s jealous that we beat him at packing salmon. Or mad because what he did made him mighty unpopular around the docks. On the other hand, he could be feeling guilty for deserting your dad when Tom needed him the most.” Jean smiled. “Let’s forget Olson and see what’s happening on the dock.”
“Forgetting Thad’s not going to be easy,” Ariel warned when they reached the waterfront. “He’s up ahead. Shall we turn back or go into a store?”
Jean’s eyes flashed. “Non! A Thoreau does not run from trouble, although there should be none. Olson’s a blowhard, but unless he’s drinking he watches himself when ladies are present.”
So much for that, Ariel thought when the big fisherman lurched toward them. He had unmistakably been cozying up to a bottle, probably more than one. The fumes he broadcast made Ariel’s nose wrinkle in disgust.
When Thad reached her and Jean, he stopped square in front of them. With a mocking grin, he doffed a disreputable cap and bowed low. “Well, if it ain’t the Salmon King’s daughter and his high-and-mighty Boy Wonder, all togged out in oilskins and ready to catch a fish.” The rasping taunt grated on Ariel’s nerves.
“Get out of our way, Olson.” Steel laced Jean’s voice.
“I don’t take orders from the likes of you, Frenchy.” To Ariel’s horror, Olson swung a hamlike fist, but Jean nimbly stepped aside. The momentum from Thad’s swing threw him off balance. He sprawled to the ground amid a roar from the crowd that had quickly gathered.
Thad shot Jean a murderous glare that left Ariel trembling, got to his feet, and stumbled off toward the nearest saloon. When he reached the front doors he bellowed, “This ain’t over, Thoreau,” then disappeared inside.
Ariel shivered. The menace in Thad’s voice confirmed Jean’s earlier evaluation. Her fiancé’s taking over Thad Olson’s job had earned him a bitter enemy. God, protect Jean, Ariel silently prayed.
“Shall we continue our tour?” he asked. Not a trace of concern for the threat showed in his voice. But the twitch of a muscle in one cheek betrayed Jean’s regret that Ariel had been exposed to the ugly scene.
She valiantly blinked away tears and fears. “Of course. Let’s just make sure we don’t walk in any dark alleys.”
A glimmer of admiration rewarded her efforts. “Good idea. I always have been afraid of dark places.” Jean’s grin belied his words. Yet in spite of his joking attempt to turn Ariel’s mind away from Thad Olson’s threat, as they climbed back up the steep hillside, memories of the hate in the drunken fisherman’s face lay heavily on her heart.
Chapter 6
Early the next morning Ariel slipped from bed and looked through the window. Not a cloud in sight. So why did the day fail to put a song in her heart and set her spirits soaring the way such a morning normally did?
A mosquito-like whine caught her attention. It turned to the roar of a radial engine when a seaplane swooped overhead and shattered the silence. Ariel grimaced. The noise seemed like a desecration of the peaceful morning. A flock of screeching gulls scattered out of the way along with a flock of ducks. Their beating wings surged to help them escape the landing monster. Ariel watched the aircraft touch down and slow, pushing a wave of green water toward shore. The engine and the huge whirling propeller stopped when the silver pontoons nudged the floating dock. The cabin door opened; the pilot stepped down and began securing the craft.
When no passengers followed, Ariel lost interest. She bathed and donned the ivory flannel outfit Emmet had once told her was unworthy of the Careys. “Why think of them?” she scolded herself. “You’ve taken yourself and your outfit out of their lives forever.” The thought cheered her, and a delicious aroma lured her down the stairs into the kitchen. “I’m hungrier than a bear out of hibernation,” she told Molly. “Where’s everybody?”
The cook beamed. “On the porch. They watched the seaplane come in.” She deftly flipped a row of hotcakes and called, “Breakfast, everyone.”
Rebekah, Tom, and Jean came in sniffing. Jean’s smiling, clean-shaven face and the scent of pine surrounding him made Ariel’s pulse leap when he took his place beside her and waited for her father to ask a blessing.
“Molly, you are going to be the death of me,” Rebekah complained after Tom said amen. “Your cooking is so good I’ll look like a walrus when I go home.”
Ariel laughed. “Hardly! All the hiking you are doing burns off the extra calories.”
“That’s good.” Her aunt heaped a plate with hotcakes, crisp bacon, and fluffy omelet. “So what are we going to do today?”
“We could—”
Clang. The heavy metal door knocker on the front door cut into Ariel’s reply.
Her father’s shaggy eyebrows raised, and he slid from his seat. “Now what? Can’t a man have a decent breakfast without being interrupted?” He strode from the kitchen, and his heavy footsteps echoed down the hall that led to the front door.
Ariel held her breath. For some unknown reason, the clanging knocker had set her nerves on edge. So did the slam of the front door. She strained to make out the rumble of voices in the hall that faded and died. Dad and the visitor must have gone into the living room. What felt like an eternity later, Tom appeared in the doorway.
“Ariel, Jean, Rebekah, you need to come into the living room. Now.”
“Before I finish my breakfast?” Rebekah sounded outraged.
The look on Dad’s face stilled Ariel’s involuntary protest. What could be so important it couldn’t wait until they finished eating? Molly was already scowling. Long experience with the usually good-natured cook had taught Ariel an important lesson: Molly could not abide folks leaving the table before cleaning their plates. Ariel caught Jean’s glance—he looked as bewildered as she felt.
Once everyone was seated in the living room, Ariel took stock of the stranger who had disrupted their meal. The tall, silver-haired man wore a leather jacket and high-laced, hiking-style boots. His heavy knit sweater was slightly stained at the neck; a pair of dark glasses hung like a noodle from the V of the sweater. He held a good-sized, brown paper–wrapped package with a firm grip.
“This is Wayne Hunter, the seaplane pilot. He says he has a special delivery for you, Ariel.” Tom glowered. “It’s from Emmet.”
Wayne nodded at the astonished girl. “Miss Dixon, Mr. Carey’s orders are to deliver this to you personally then wait while you and Mrs. Patten pack. I can take three passengers plus freight and baggage with me. We’ll call a taxi when you’re ready to go.” He dropped the package in her lap.
Pack
? Taxi? Go? “Are you insane?” Ariel demanded.
“I’ll wager I know what’s in the package,” Rebekah said. “Open it, Ariel.”
The bewildered girl glared at the package as if it were a hungry wolf waiting to attack. “How dare Emmet send me a gift? Open it, Auntie, if you like. I won’t.”
“Gladly.” Rebekah snatched the package and tore off layer after layer of wrapping paper. A wooden box appeared. More wrapping paper. Then a small velvet box. She pressed the spring. The box opened.
The Carey heirloom betrothal ring in all its glory glittered from a satin nest.
Ariel heard Jean’s intake of breath and turned toward him. He looked as if he had been struck. Rage at Emmet mingled with compassion for the man she loved. The ring surpassed anything Jean would ever be able to afford. “Get it out of my sight,” Ariel told Rebekah. “It’s too heavy. All I want is a plain gold band like Dad gave Mother.”
“Thank you, chérie.” Jean’s husky voice and the relief in his face sank deep into Ariel’s heart.
“It will have to go back,” her father announced. A vein pulsed in his forehead. He glared at Wayne. “What was Carey thinking? And what do you mean, wait while Ariel and Rebekah pack?”
The obviously embarrassed pilot turned red as he replied, “Mr. Carey said there was a note in the package that would explain.”
Rebekah caught up the wrappings and unearthed a small envelope. “So, let’s see what the young whippersnapper has to say.” She ignored Ariel’s muttered “who cares” and ripped open the envelope. A curious smile crossed her face. “Listen to this:
“Dear Ariel:
“Stop acting like a child and put the ring on your finger where it belongs. Mother is frantic, and we are running out of excuses for your absence. The pilot will fly you down the inside waterway of British Columbia to the docks at Lake Union in Seattle. Reservations are already made from there for you to return to San Diego on a commercial plane. Emmet.
“Of all the unmitigated gall!” Rebekah started to crumple the note then smoothed it out. “Tom, get me something to write with.” He grabbed a stubby pencil from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.
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