Alaskan Summer

COPYRIGHT

ISBN 1-59310-608-4

Copyright © 2005 by Marilou H. Flinkman. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

ONE

The flight from Seattle had been uneventful and the scenery spectacular. Laurette kept her nose close to the window as the panorama of the Canadian Rockies held her in awe. Snowcapped peaks seemed to touch the sky; glaciers and glistening mountain lakes beckoned to her then disappeared beneath a layer of clouds as the plane approached Sitka, Alaska.

Laurette felt the small aircraft bank and turn, descending into the clouds below. Gripping the armrests, she tensed when the pilot announced he would make one more attempt to land as the plane changed altitude again. “If there is no break in the cloud cover, we will go on to Juneau,” he said.

Heaving a huge sigh, Laurette wondered why she had let Jenny talk her into this. Her college roommate had lived in Sitka for several years before her father retired from the Coast Guard. Jenny had coaxed Laurette into applying for a job with Southeast Alaska Maritime, the port agent serving cruise ships and their passengers’ myriad needs while they were in Sitka. Laurette closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for Jenny’s father. His heart attack had sent her roommate rushing to his side.

The plane dived, throwing Laurette forward against her seat belt. Her eyes popped open and her prayer rapidly changed to “Lord Jesus, please keep us safe.” All she could see now were clouds rushing past her window. She repeated her prayer like a mantra until the view cleared and she felt the wheels bouncing on the runway. At least she thought it was ground. Whichever window she looked out, she saw only water. Her heart continued to beat out a rapid rhythm.

By the time the steward opened the door, Laurette felt back in control. She squared her shoulders, pulled her backpack from the overhead bin, and followed the other passengers off the plane. In the terminal she spotted a tall, thin, but athletic-looking young man holding a sign with her name printed in large black letters.
This is the welcoming committee?
she wondered, seeing his glum expression. Aside from that, he wasn’t bad to look at. His dark hair looked like it had been combed by the wind. He wore pressed jeans and a jacket with the Southeast Alaska Maritime logo.

Hiding her apprehension, Laurette picked her way through the small crowd of passengers to reach the man with the sign. “Hi. I’m Laurette Martel.”
He must be over six foot,
she thought, offering him her hand.

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a crooked smile. His blue eyes showed no warmth when he touched her hand. “Welcome to Sitka. I’m Ryan Nichols. Do you have luggage?”

“Yes. Jenny gave me a long list of things I would need. I’m sorry she couldn’t come.”

“Me, too.”

Laurette wondered at his tone. Jenny had never mentioned any particular guy, but it seemed Ryan knew her—and was apparently very disappointed.

“Luggage is this way.”

She scurried to keep up with his long stride. “Mr. Personality,” she said under her breath.

As soon as she saw her big duffel bag, she grabbed it off the carousel. She’d barely put it down when the large cardboard box she had checked appeared. Ryan saw her reach for it and managed to snag the awkward package before she could react.

“The company van is parked out front. I’ll carry the box. Follow me.” Her official greeter grabbed the box and started for the door.

“Thanks,” she said as she slung on her backpack and picked up the duffel bag. “Another adventure,” she muttered, hurrying after his retreating figure.

When he shoved the box in the back of the van and reached for her duffel bag, she warned him, “My laptop is in my backpack. I’d like to keep it up front.”

Again he arched one bushy eyebrow and said, “Suit yourself.”

He eased the van away from the airport and drove across a long bridge, giving Laurette a little time to look around. She realized now that the runway her plane had landed on was on a narrow—or was
the
narrow—strip of land on what she assumed was an island, since she hadn’t paid much attention to that part of the map. Ryan spoke just as she opened her mouth to ask.

“You have a place to stay in Sitka?”

“I made a reservation at a place called Edith’s Bed-and-Breakfast on Monastery Street. Looks like I can walk to work from there, according to my map.” Laurette ducked when a small plane took off from the water and roared over the van.

“Seaplanes have the right-of-way here. Boats have to make room for them,” he said, gesturing toward the water where the various crafts had indeed given the seaplane a wide berth. “You’ll get used to it.”

He sounds like a really bored tour guide.
“Nice to know.” She took note of the many fishing boats moored in the harbor.

“We’ll stop by the office first. The boss will want to meet you.”

“Fine,” she said, looking at the sights and ignoring her less than friendly driver. The clouds still hovered over the city but did not blot out the faint shadow of the surrounding mountains.

“You handled that luggage with no problem. You’ll be doing a lot of that now.”

Laurette did not know how to answer him. She just looked at his profile and wondered if that was meant to be a compliment. “I grew up on a farm. I’m used to hard work,” she said firmly.

He smiled at her.
He could be good looking if he did that more often,
she thought. Her thoughts were interrupted as he pulled into a large parking lot.

Ryan pointed to the building near a dock. “That’s the Centennial Building. The dock below it is where the tenders bring people off the ships. The cruise ships anchor out there in Crescent Bay.”

Laurette was not about to admit she had no idea what a
tender
could be. Beyond the dock she saw several pleasure crafts in the harbor. She scurried to keep up with Ryan when he got out of the van. They jaywalked across the street and went up some stairs next to a souvenir shop. He led her past a couple of closed doors to the end of the hall. Here, the door stood open, and a man in his midthirties turned to greet her.

“Welcome, Laurette. Glad to have you here.”

She shook his proffered hand.

“I’m Tyler Healy. Do you go by Laurette?”

“Yes, sir, but my father calls me Rette,” she answered politely, wondering why she’d added something so irrelevant.

“I go by Tyler. Not very formal here.” His welcome warmed Laurette. Her boss wasn’t as tall as Ryan, but since she stood only five feet four inches, she looked up to almost everyone. Tyler had sandy-colored hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wore a long-sleeved sport shirt and dark blue jeans. She spotted a sport coat on the back of a chair. She wondered if her own slacks and sweater looked travel worn.
Can’t be helped,
she said silently, finger-combing her curly hair.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” he asked. “My wife said to bring you home if you didn’t.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but I made a reservation at Edith’s B and B. I’ll have to find a permanent place and a vehicle to drive soon.”

“We’ll start on that tomorrow. Right now, let me show you around the office. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

She took the offered drink. It was strong and bitter.
Must be Alaskan style.
She sipped the dark brew as she followed Tyler. Laurette realized Ryan had left them without comment. There were three rooms with desks and machines. The fax machine started to clack. He picked up the message being sent.

“This is usually how the cruise ship captains contact us. They let us know what they’ll need while they’re in port, and we do our best to take care of them.” He turned to a cabinet. “Let me give you a cell phone. Be sure to keep it charged and turned on at all times. This is how we stay in contact.”

Laurette took the phone. She turned as Ryan appeared in the doorway. “Could you find a VHF radio for Laurette?” Tyler asked him. “We don’t use them often, but they’re a backup if the ships are out of cell phone range,” he explained to her. “Your call name will be SAM 3. I’m SAM 1 and Ryan is SAM 2,” her new boss instructed. “Bring an extra battery pack, too,” he called to the departing Ryan.

She smiled. “Easy to remember.” Laurette looked for a place to put her cup when Ryan came back with her radio and battery pack; she already had the phone in her other hand. “I left my backpack in the van.” She put the cup on the windowsill and murmured, “Sorry. Don’t have enough hands.”

“Have we got a coat small enough?” Tyler asked Ryan. “You’ll need the uniform and the pockets,” he told Laurette with a smile.

“Uniform?” she questioned.

“We aren’t in dress blues.” He laughed. “We try to look presentable, particularly when we go aboard the ships. A good pair of jeans will do, and the company windbreaker will identify you as one of our employees.”

Ryan came back with a jacket. “Smallest we’ve got.”

She put down the phone and radio before pulling it on. “It fits okay,” she announced, pushing the elastic in the cuffs up her wrists to keep the sleeves from falling over her hands. Next she stowed the phone and radio in the pockets and picked up her cup of coffee.

Through all this, Ryan hadn’t spoken. Tyler didn’t seem to notice, so Laurette tried not to show her discomfort with her coworker’s obvious disapproval. Or was it her own self-consciousness?

She sat down in the chair by Tyler’s desk while they chatted about Sitka and what would be expected of her.

“Do you have a church preference?” Tyler asked her.

“My family went to a community church near our ranch. In college I’ve been attending Grace Church. Kind of an evangelical service.” The change in subject startled her.