By now, Laurel’s expression was one of total disbelief. “Mariah,” she began, “I wasn’t—”
“And another thing,” Mariah continued, unable to resist spewing forth the tidal wave of angry words surging up inside her. “If you’re trying to impress Trip, I’ll tell you right now you’re wasting your time.”
‘Trip?” Laurel’s mouth dropped open. “Mariah, I never in a million years—”
“I’ve seen you showing off in front of him. Believe me, I know boys like Trip. The last thing in the world that turns them on is a Miss Know-It-All.”
“Are you finished?” Laurel asked woodenly.
“I am,” Mariah shot back. “I only wish you were.”
Her expression stricken, Laurel turned. Glancing over her shoulder, she called back, “By the way, whenever you untie fish traps out in the field, make sure you undo the knots on the spot instead of just pulling them off the clumps of grass. That way, you won’t get stuck with a dirty job like that.” She turned away, vanishing into the woods.
Mariah stood with her arms folded across her chest, watching Laurel disappear into the woods. She was certain she’d gotten her point across, putting Laurel in her place once and for all. Yet there was one thing that left her completely confused. And that was why having done so didn’t make her feel one bit better.
* * * *
Laurel hurried into the cabin, wanting nothing more than to be alone. Inside she was raging. She was furious at herself for letting Mariah get the best of her.
How
dare
she accuse me of showing off ... especially in front of Dr. Wells! she thought, closing her eyes tightly to keep from crying. It was true that she was anxious to impress him. But she was sincerely interested in this project—not only in learning as much as she could, but also in being a valuable contributor to his research.
Yet in trying her hardest, was she really coming across as a brownnose, a teacher’s pet... a goody two-shoes?
Suddenly Laurel was awash in confusion. So many different feelings were rushing through her. Anger at Marian, disappointment in herself ... and, of course, the bad feelings that continued to lurk at the back of her mind, her dismay over her parents’ reluctance to accept her love of science.
When she spotted a letter lying on her bunk, she was instantly heartened. She hadn’t even been aware that any mail had been delivered. Eagerly she grabbed the envelope, hoping it would turn out to be good news.
Then she read the return address. The letter was from her mother. She hesitated before slitting open the cream-colored envelope, expensive-looking writing paper she now realized she should have recognized immediately as her mother’s. Her fingers were tense as she unfolded the piece of thick paper inside.
“Dear Laurel,” she read. “It’s so hard for me to imagine you so far away, in that wild place unlike anywhere I’ve ever been or even conceived of going....”
Laurel braced herself. Part of her wondered why she was even bothering to read on, since the tone of the letter’s introduction made it clear where it was going.
“I wish I could be more supportive, dear,” her mother had written in her crisp, neat handwriting, “but I’m still not certain you’re heading in the right direction. The road you’ve chosen to travel is such a hard one. It’s especially difficult for a girl....”
Suddenly Laurel found being inside the cabin confining. Still clutching the letter, she raced outside, hurrying down the path and into the woods. She didn’t stop until she’d reached a huge cottonwood tree at the edge of a small clearing. Sitting cross-legged on the soft ground, leaning against the trunk, she read through the rest of the letter.
“I know you’ve never been one to follow the pack, Laurel,” it said. “Even as a little girl, you were always off on your own, ignoring everyone else as you chased after butterflies or spent hours studying a spiderweb. You were never interested in the things the other girls were interested in.
“I hoped you’d grow out of it. I did my best to get you involved in more traditional pursuits. Remember your sixteenth birthday party? I made a point of inviting your entire private school class hoping I could help you fit in better.
“And now this. My heart breaks over the image of you living in a tent somewhere, dressed in sloppy clothes, spending long days hiking or paddling around in a canoe. A girl your age should be out having fun—”
“But it
is
fun!” Laurel cried aloud, talking to someone who was, in reality, five thousand miles away. “It’s
my
idea of fun, Mother! Can’t you understand that? Can’t you accept that?”
But the only answer was the lonely cry of a loon off on the lake, the hollow sound eerie as it cut through the still air.
Chapter Ten
“Bad news, Laurel?”
Laurel glanced up from the letter she’d been forcing herself to read, resisting the temptation to crumple it into a ball and throw it away. She saw Russ standing in front of her, his face tense with concern. Hastily she blinked away the tears in her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said earnestly. “I called your name, but you didn’t seem to hear.”
“That’s okay.”
Russ gestured toward the letter with his chin. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”
“No, not really.” She folded up the cream-colored paper and stuck it into the pocket of her jeans. “Just a letter from home.”
His frown deepened. “Are you sure everything’s all right?”
“Yes, everything’s fine.” With a high-pitched laugh, she added, “At least, as fine as it ever is.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story.” Laurel waved her hand in the air dismissively. “One that’s too boring to go into right now.” Peering at him more closely, she noticed he was standing in an odd position, with one hand stuck behind his back. “Are you hiding something, Russ?”
“Well, not
hiding
it exactly ... More like waiting for just the right moment.” His cheeks were flushed as he took his hand out from behind his back. He came out with a small, colorful bouquet of wildflowers. “These are for you.”
“For me?”
Russ nodded. He kept his eyes down, acting as if the moss-covered rocks dotting the forest floor were something he’d never seen before. “I-I came upon a whole clump of them just now and.... Well, I’d overheard your argument with Marian and I figured you could probably use some cheering up.” Awkwardly he thrust the bouquet of deep purple lupine interspersed with bright pink fireweed at her.
“Oh, Russ. They’re lovely. Thank you so much.” Laurel hesitated only a moment before reaching for them. A peculiar thought flitted through her head: why on earth was Russ giving her flowers? The first response that came to mind was simply too absurd to contemplate. Quickly she dismissed it.
He already told me, she insisted to herself. He overheard what Marian said to me and thought I might be in need of some cheering up....
“Russ,” she asked suddenly, putting the flowers aside, “do you think that since we’ve come up here, I’ve been acting ... like a show-off? Trying to impress everybody with how much biology I know?
“Not that I think I know that much,” she added hastily. “I mean, compared to you, for example, I’m practically a beginner. But the last thing I want to do is give the impression that I think I’m better than everybody else—”
“Oh, no!” Russ was quick to assure her. “Not at all! As a matter of fact, I’ve been really impressed by how much you know.”
Laurel smiled wanly. “Thanks, Russ. That means a lot to me.”
“There is one thing, though....”
She looked at him expectantly.
“Every once in a while when I find myself watching you, I can’t help noticing that you seem kind of... preoccupied.”
Laurel found herself growing uncomfortable. Russ . .. watching her? Why? That admission, added to the bouquet of wildflowers he’d so bashfully presented to her, made her original suspicion impossible to ignore. So he really did have a crush on her.
She decided to pretend not to notice. Instead, she would simply treat him like a friend.
“As a matter of fact,” she said, “I have been a little preoccupied. And this letter is part of what I’ve been wrestling with.” She sighed. “I’m afraid my parents aren’t very supportive of my decision to pursue a career in science.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
“Why aren’t they?”
Laurel laughed coldly. “My mother thinks it’s not very ladylike.”
“You mean somebody actually feels that way in this day and age?”
“Yes! Mother would much rather I’d spent the summer shopping for a husband—someone respectable, with a promising future, someone who’d take care of me for the rest of my life—rather than running around Alaska, collecting damselflies and poring over the Peterson field guide, identifying wildflowers.”
Russ was pensive for what seemed a very long time. “You know, Laurel,” he finally said, “it sounds as if the family I grew up in was as different from yours as night is from day. My parents were kind of rebellious. They both left their families to live in virtual isolation on a nature preserve. I grew up pretty much the same way Danny Torvold is.
“All that presented problems of its own ... like the fact that now that I’m grown up, I never feel as comfortable being around a lot of people as everybody else seems to. I’ve always been pretty much a loner. Not that I mind, but, well, every once in a while I find myself wishing I were a little bit more like everybody else. You know how it is—kids getting together and talking about the TV shows they watched when they were growing up, the trips their family took to Disney World.
“But the bottom line is that I wouldn’t trade my upbringing for anything. Maybe I didn’t have a lot of the same experiences and material things as other kids my age. But there’s one thing my parents gave me that’s much more valuable than any of that: the sense that I have to be the kind of person
I
want to be. When you grow up pretty much cut off from the rest of the world, the way I did, you tend to see things in much simpler terms. And that includes sorting through everybody else’s expectations of who and what you should be and coming up with a clear idea of what it is
you
want.
“That’s a struggle I think everybody faces as part of growing up. And it’s one I think I’ve pretty much been able to bypass, thanks to my parents’ values and the fact that I’ve always had to look inside for answers, rather than having the option of looking outward.”
He laughed self-consciously. “I didn’t mean to make a speech.”
“I appreciate your honesty,” Laurel said sincerely. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Blinking, he said, “I have?”
“Yes. You’re absolutely right. I do have to keep clear sight of what I want. This is my life, not anyone else’s. And I guess it doesn’t hurt to be reminded of that every once in a while.”
She reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. ‘Thanks, Russ.”
His face turned bright red. “Well, uh, I’m glad I could be of assistance.”
Laurel smiled. “You have.” She ran her fingers lightly over the soft petals of the colorful flowers. “Knowing I have a friend is more of a help than you know.”
* * * *
Cooking out the following Saturday night was Dr. Wells’s idea, his way of acknowledging that his research team was doing a good job—and that they deserved a break. Late that afternoon, he asked for volunteers to take the van and make a run into town for supplies.
“I’ll go!” Cassie piped up before anyone else had a chance. “And Laurel will come with me. Oh, please, Laurel!”
Laurel had to admit it was a welcome change of pace, driving the van along the bumpy dirt road. Beside her in the front seat, her copilot chirped away happily.
“I can’t wait to see civilization again!” Cassie cried, resting her feet on the dashboard. “Imagine, I’m actually getting excited over the prospect of walking into a supermarket! That just goes to show you what a couple of weeks in the middle of nowhere can do to a person.”
Laurel smiled. “If I didn’t know better, I might think you sounded as if you were actually having fun up here.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But maybe I am getting used to it, at least a little.” With a shrug, Cassie added, “Still, I’m enjoying a trip back into the real world. Driving to the store like this
almost feels like home.”
Suddenly Laurel slammed on the brakes. A porcupine had just lumbered across the dirt road, less than twenty feet in front of the car. Cassie and Laurel looked at each other, then broke into hysterical laughter.
“Well,” said Cassie,
“almost
like home.”
For Laurel, stepping into a modern supermarket after two solid weeks surrounded by nothing but trees was a shock. As for Cassie, she darted around happily, racing down every aisle, thoughtfully considering each end-aisle display.
“Oreos!” she cried, grabbing two packages off the shelf. “I’d practically forgotten they existed! How have I ever managed to live so long without them?”
“Take it easy,” Laurel warned, laughing. “We’re only supposed to buy food for tonight’s cookout, remember? Don’t get carried away.”
“I have to stock up,” Cassie insisted. “After all, who knows how long it’ll be before I see an entire mountain of cookies again?” She’d already pounced upon the Chips Ahoy.
It turned out she wasn’t the only one who’d missed the amenities of the civilized world.
“Is that really Coca-Cola?” Trip greeted the two girls as they strolled into the cabin laden with grocery bags. “Or am I dreaming?”
“It’s real,” Cassie assured him.
“Hey, I don’t suppose you picked up any tortilla chips, did you?”
Cassie looked crestfallen. “Gee, Trip, if I’d known there was anything special you wanted, I’d have been happy to pick it up for you.”
“There was no point in going to any trouble—”
“Oh, no!” she was quick to assure him. “It wouldn’t have been any trouble at all.”
Mariah, curled up on the couch, cast a knowing glance in Laurel’s direction. She, in turn, simply looked away.
Junk food aside, Laurel had to admit it was fun, building a big fire in a clearing and roasting hot dogs on the open flame. Sitting cross-legged on the cool ground, downing her third hot dog and washing it down with a can of Cassie’s precious Coke, she realized that the five of them, not to mention Dr. Wells, had spent nearly every waking minute working ever since they’d arrived. Sitting back and simply relaxing was a treat.