When Kachemak Bay came into view, they’d pulled into a special parking area for sightseers. Trip and Laurel jumped out of the car and took turns taking each other’s picture beneath a wooden sign made of logs fastened together with rope, reading “Homer, Alaska: Halibut Fishing Capital of the World.” In the background was a gently sloping field of colorful wildflowers, leading down to a calm blue expanse of water. Running along the horizon across Kachemak Bay were craggy mountains, a mosaic of blue-gray rock, shimmering snow, and gigantic glaciers that stretched across huge valleys.
Yet aside from a few brief moments when she and Trip had actually been able to relax and drink in their surroundings, Mariah had kept them on edge. She’d complained about everything. The car ride was too long, there were too many twists and turns in the road, the ice pack was too wet, the Jeep was too bumpy. And when she noticed her foot had turned blue, she let out a wail that was like something off the soundtrack of a horror movie.
Now, in response to her complaint that he was handling her too roughly, Trip let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Torturing you is the most natural thing in the world, Mariah. Now, can you manage to hobble to the front door of the clinic? Or do I have to sling you over my shoulder and carry you?”
“Thanks, I’ll just crawl.”
“I’ll help you, Mariah.” Laurel rushed to her side, holding out her arm for Mariah to hang on to. “It’s not far.”
Mariah barely seemed to be listening. She was eyeing the clinic, a low, wooden building that even Laurel had to admit wasn’t exactly the kind of ultramodern medical center she’d been expecting. As a matter of fact, if it hadn’t been for the fading sign, “Lindsey Chase, M.D.,” next to the door, she never would have guessed this was the clinic Dr. Wells had spoken of so highly.
Yet if there was one thing she’d already learned, it was that nothing in Alaska was the way it was in the rest of the country.
“We’re almost there,” Laurel said encouragingly. “Just a few more steps—”
“I can see that,” Mariah snapped.
The inside of the office was as plain as the outside. The small waiting room was painted light green, furnished with a few wooden chairs. A receptionist sat behind a glass window, typing on a computer. The only noteworthy feature, in fact, was the collection of framed photographs hanging on the wall. One of them, Laurel noticed, was of Dr. Wells.
“Look at this!” she cried. “I didn’t realize Dr. Wells and Dr. Chase were such good friends.”
They waited only a few minutes before Dr. Chase came out. She was wearing a crisp white lab coat over a pair of jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. She was younger than Laurel had expected, with long straight brown hair, pretty features, and a warm smile.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she greeted them.
“Ethan called a while ago and said I should keep an eye out for you.” Turning to Mariah, she said, “You must be the patient. Come on in to Room Two. It’s the first door on your right.”
While Mariah was inside with the doctor, Laurel stood in front of the photographs, examining them.
“I bet they’re more than friends,” she mused.
“Hmmm?” Trip barely glanced up from the fishing magazine he’d picked up from the table and was perusing.
“Dr. Wells and Dr. Chase. I bet they’re secretly in love.”
Trip cast her a funny look. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless romantic?”
Laurel could feel her cheeks turning red.
“No, I like it,” he insisted. “It’s charming. It’s nice to know there’s somebody in there.”
“Somebody in there?” she repeated, not understanding.
“Somebody other than the dedicated scientist,” said Trip. “Someone with heart. Someone with soul. Someone who still believes—”
“Excuse me,” the receptionist interrupted. She’d just come over to them, a clipboard in hand. “Have you filled out these forms for the patient?”
It wasn’t long before Dr. Chase asked Laurel and Trip to come into her office.
“From the looks of things, Marian’s turned her ankle and strained the ligaments pretty badly,” she said, folding her hands on the desk in front of her. “If that’s the case, she should be back to normal in anywhere from four days to a week.
“However, just to be sure I took an X ray. A fine line showed up on one of the bones. There’s a slight possibility she’s suffered a hairline fracture, I’m nearly certain it’s nothing, but I’d like to have a colleague of mine, Dr. Ellis, take a look at it. I won’t be able to get hold of him until tomorrow. Is it possible for the three of you to stay in Homer overnight?”
“Overnight?” Laurel repeated.
“Of course, I’m assuming Dr. Wells will be willing to let you stay out,” Dr. Chase added, smiling. “I know how hard Ethan works his students, mainly because he’s so passionate about his work.” She became lost in thought for a few seconds, her eyes glowing and her cheeks turning pink.
Laurel cast Trip a look that said, “I told you so.” Turning back to the doctor, she said, “We’ll need a place to stay.”
“That’s no problem. There’s an inn just around the corner. The owner and I are good friends. I’ll give him a call and tell him you need a couple of rooms for tonight.”
Laurel nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Chase.”
“I’ve set Mariah up with a pair of crutches. It’s important that she stay off that foot. I’ve told her to keep it wrapped in the Ace bandage I’ve put on, and to keep it elevated. And keep her supplied with as much ice as possible.”
Mariah appeared in the doorway, hobbling along on a pair of crutches. “You don’t seriously expect me to use these!”
“Sounds like good old Mariah’s just fine,” breathed Trip.
* * * *
Waking up early the next morning, Laurel lay in bed for a long time, enjoying her pleasant surroundings. The room she was sharing with Marian at Homer Lodge was like something from another era. Pale yellow wallpaper sprigged with flowers complemented sheer white curtains that billowed in the breeze wafting through the open window. The room was sparsely furnished with twin beds, a dresser, and a sink. A rag rug, pastel shades of pink and yellow, was centered on the wooden floor.
It was very restful, and part of her longed to stay there forever. But she was exhilarated by being in a new place. She’d loved being at the cabin, far away from all the trappings and pressures of civilization. Yet now that she was here in Homer, she was looking forward to doing a bit of sightseeing.
Less than an hour later, she was doing just that. Mariah had begrudgingly stayed in bed, her foot elevated. Fortunately, the bookshelf in the lobby contained a few dozen paperback novels. Laurel picked out three she thought might interest Mariah and brought them up to the room with Mariah’s breakfast.
“I hate to say this,” Laurel said to Trip as they drove away from the lodge in the Jeep, “but it’s kind of a relief, leaving Mariah behind. I know we don’t have much time before Dr. Chase has that report on her X rays, but I’m anxious to see as much as we can.”
“You don’t have to sell me,” Trip replied. “Well,” he said, “we might as well make the best of this. Let’s check this place out. See some of the sights of the greater metropolitan area, drive out to the spit and see what the fishermen are up to—”
“Look! There’s a craft gallery,” Laurel said, pointing. “Would you mind pulling in there? I’d love to pick up something for Cassie.”
“First stop, Ptarmigan Craft Gallery.” Trip had already stepped on the brake.
The handmade treasures Laurel found in the small boutique were a surprising contrast to all the natural wonders she’d been soaking up since her arrival in Alaska. Here was the artwork of a few dozen of Alaska’s finest craftspeople. Some of the pieces could have been made anywhere: ceramic bowls glazed in pretty pastels, hand-painted silk scarves, boxes made of stained glass.
Others were pure Alaska. She examined a display of leather bags trimmed with buttons made from caribou antlers, then perused original watercolors of Alaskan wildflowers. Pieces of soapstone had been carved into polar bears and seals. On a variety of items, from pocketbooks to note cards to hollowed-out gourds, were Native American designs, the distinctive renderings of such tribes as the Haida, the Tlingit, and the Kwakiutl. There were so many lovely pieces, so much to admire. Yet nothing seemed quite right for Cassie.
And then a glass case containing silver jewelry caught her eye. Laurel bent over it, studying the earrings, bracelets, and necklaces whose designs incorporated stylized versions of native animals: eagles, ravens, frogs, bears.
“Find something?” Trip asked, coming over and standing at her side.
“I think so.” She pointed at a pair of earrings in the corner. “Look at those earrings shaped like eagles. I was so impressed by the eagle we saw coming down, and I love the design.... Somehow, I think Cassie would really like those. The shiny silver would look good with her red hair, and since she’s such a good artist, I think she’d appreciate the fine craftsmanship. I wonder how much they cost?”
Ten minutes later, Laurel walked out of the store with a small package tucked into her pocket. She was certain that Cassie would be thrilled with her selection. More than that, she hoped the earrings would serve as a sort of peace offering, smoothing over some of the tension that had sprung up between them.
“Where should we go next?” Laurel, sitting in the front seat of the .Jeep, peered at the tourist map she’d picked up at the gallery. “It looks as if Homer Spit is one of the high points.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Trip.
Laurel glanced over at him. “You’re turning out to be an excellent traveling companion.”
Trip shrugged. “At your service, ma’am.”
Homer Spit was a long, narrow stretch of land that curled into Kachemak Bay. Along the beaches ran an unbroken line of tents, put up by the men and women who stood along the coastline, fishing rods in hand. Further down was a string of buildings connected by a boardwalk that looked as if it had been modeled after a New England fishing village. The dozen or so shops sold everything a visitor might need, from film and T-shirts to bait and fishing tackle. Sprinkled among the stores were rental offices for small fishing boats, as well as scenic cruises across the bay to Gull Island, home to thousands of birds, and Halibut Cove, an isolated artists’ colony.
At the end of the spit was a beach. Beyond the calm expanse of Kachemak Bay were the Kenai Mountains, a jagged line of icy white peaks that cut into the horizon. The scene was one of the most magnificent views Laurel had seen since she’d arrived in Alaska. Yet what struck her even more was the black sand.
“Hey, look at this!” Trip held up a piece of seaweed so long it was taller than he was. “Let’s bring this with us as a souvenir.”
Laurel smiled. This was turning out to be more fun than she’d anticipated. But as she stood on the black beach, enjoying her spectacular surroundings, she suddenly felt guilty. After all, the only reason she and Trip were even here was because of someone else’s mishap.
Sighing, she said, “I wonder how Mariah’s doing.”
“She’s probably having a grand old time. After all, she’s got her favorite person in the world for company: herself.”
“I wonder if Dr. Chase has managed to get in touch with Dr. Ellis yet.” Strolling along the water’s edge, she said, “You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out I was right.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that she and Dr. Wells have a special connection to each other.”
“Who knows?” Trip said with a shrug.
“I bet I know what happened,” she went on, ignoring his indifference. “A few years ago, they met and fell madly in love. They spent an idyllic summer together. But their great love was destined to fail. He had his career in Vermont, she had hers up here.... They were both as passionate about their work as they were about each other. In the end, they agreed never to see each other again because the pain of not being able to be together was simply too great.”
For a few moments, Laurel was lost in her little daydream. When she finally glanced up, she saw that Trip was grinning at her.
“You sure have a good imagination.”
“Maybe it’s this place.” She could feel her cheeks turning pink. “You have to admit, there’s something very special about Alaska. Something unique.”
“You mean like it’s the only place where you can find eagles, the only place where the seaweed is more than six feet long—”
“It’s much more than that. Here, you’re free to be yourself, whatever that happens to be. There’s no one looking over your shoulder, constantly reminding you how you’re supposed to act. Nobody’s scolding you, saying you ‘should’ do this and you ‘should’ do that. You’re completely on your own. There are no rules, no limits....”
She expected Trip to laugh at her. Yet when she dared to cast him a shy glance, she found that the expression on his face was serious. “You really think about things, don’t you?”
“I don’t know. I suppose I do.”
“I like that. I haven’t met many girls who are that introspective.”
Laurel could feel anger rising up inside her. But before she had a chance to protest, Trip held up his hands.
“Wait a minute. Don’t get all huffy. I was merely making an observation, that’s all. You’re not like most girls.”
“Trip, you talk about girls as if they were creatures from another planet.”
“Sometimes I think they are. I don’t know; maybe it’s partly my fault. I suppose it could be the way I come across that makes most girls act the way they do around me.”
Laurel remained guarded. “And exactly how do they act?”
“They flirt with me. Tease me.” He shrugged. “It’s like ... it’s like it’s all part of some game we’re playing. Nobody takes it very seriously. We’re all just playing different roles, that’s all. I say something suggestive, the girl I’m talking to says something back.... It’s fun, but I guess it’s not really a good way for me to get to know her.” He gazed out across the bay. “I don’t know; maybe I’ve been missing out on something all these years.”
“My goodness, Trip. You’re certainly full of surprises.” Laurel’s reaction was sincere. “It’s hard for me to admit this, but I think I might have misjudged you.”