Feather From a Stranger Read online

  “And I was on my way into town,” Mara replied, almost too quickly.

  “It's a pleasure to meet you and Thor,” she said to Doug Williams. “I can't thank you enough for finding my ring.”

  “Glad we could be of service,” Cap answered, pulling Thor onto his feet and walking the animal further onto the ferry, leaving Mara to continue her exit.

  Moments later she was standing on the thick wooden planks of the dock where Thor had brought the ring she had dropped into the water. She pulled the hood of her coat up to shield herself from the steady drizzle that was falling. She couldn't stop thinking about the events that had just occurred as she began to walk slowly into town. Looking up, she thought she saw Cap watching her from the ferry.

  This journey to a new life was getting more interesting by the minute. First she meets a mysterious elder who hands her a feather, and now a wolf-dog named Thor jumps into the water and retrieves her wedding ring the exact moment she accidentally dropped it into the water after removing it for the first time since her husband died four years ago. Then, she just happens to bump into the dog and his owner on the very ferry on which she has been traveling, and that same stranger gives her back the ring she thought she would never see again. What were the odds of that?

  Doug Williams sure seemed like a nice guy, she thought. She hoped she had thanked him. She couldn't remember if she had with all the excitement about Thor finding her ring.

  With a day and half to kill, she booked a side trip to Sitka.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sitka

  FINGERING THE RING ON THE CHAIN AROUND HER NECK, MARA STUCK to her earlier decision to remove her wedding ring from her finger. She was not going to risk losing it again by letting it out of her sight this time. How could she have been so careless as to have stuffed it into her pocket anyway?

  “Isn't it great to be able to take a side trip like this?” someone said to her as they boarded the plane to Sitka.

  She found a seat in the tail, right behind the emergency exit door and put her seatbelt on as instructed. The seatbelt offered little reassurance when she later saw a commercial jet land ahead of them on the runway in Sitka. It barely had time to stop, coming to a halt just feet from the rocks that banked the runway from the ocean.

  “All those white knuckles are making it hard for me to see,” the pilot joked as he guided their plane safely to the ground. None of the passengers seemed amused, especially when they could easily see out the window that they, too, had stopped just short of the end of the jetty that held the runway.

  “Just what we need—a cutesy pilot,” Mara muttered under her breath.

  “Sitka Airport has one of the scariest runways in the state,” another passenger leaned over and whispered, but his words did little to dampen her relief at being solidly on the ground.

  “I never seem to get past that nervous feeling when we fly in here, even though these pilots know exactly how to land here safely.”

  “I can believe that,” Mara answered as she stepped out onto the portable stairway and climbed down from the plane.

  THE STAY IN SITKA WAS TOO SHORT AND MARA PROMISED HERSELF THAT she would return soon for another walk through Totem Park. She wanted to study the enormous slugs she had seen there. Someone had referred to them as banana slugs. They were huge—maybe three to four inches long—and they were everywhere around the bases of the giant spruce trees that grew in the area. With their bright colors, they were beautiful, intriguing, and unlike anything she had seen in the Amazon. They were definitely not something she would have expected to find in Alaska.

  Not knowing when she would be back, she snapped a few pictures of them. Sarah had a friend back in Boston who was cataloging indigenous invertebrates and she supposed these giant slugs would fit the bill. She would try to send the pictures to her at the first opportunity.

  On her walk back to the airport, she took a right turn just west of St. Michael's Cathedral, the historic Russian Orthodox Church in the center of town. She found herself walking down Katlian Street in the older part of Sitka. The street was a hodge-podge of poorly constructed homes; many with bright red and black murals painted on the sides and most with yards filled with toys, and odd assortments of old appliances and vehicles. A simple wooden cross-monument next to the sidewalk caught her attention and she stopped to read the inscription on a bronze plate at the base of the cross. It commemorated the wife and five children of someone named Joseph Michael. The plaque said that the family had died in a fire five years ago.

  It didn't dawn on her until later that this sounded very much like the story Bob had told her about the native man named Joe. It would be an odd coincidence that two families from the same area could experience such a like tragedy at that same time frame of five years ago. She wasn't sure why the memorial would be here in Sitka. The Joe she had met was supposed to be from somewhere called Hoonah. Still, she wondered if the Joe who gave her the feather was this Joseph Michael. It was just too much of a coincidence to not be so.

  She was beginning to have quite a few questions for this man named Joe who she had bumped into quite by chance, or was there more than chance at play here? The thought gave her shivers. She would try to find him and ask him about this when she got back to the ferry—that is, if she could find him. Except for an occasional glimpse of Joe walking across one of the ferry decks, he had all but disappeared from sight since that day he had given her the feather. If she couldn't find Joe to ask him, maybe one of the ferry workers would know something about this monument.

  She reached the airport just in time to catch her flight back to Wrangell. Once there, she waited to get back on board the Malaspina while a contingent of men wearing the uniforms of the Salvation Army walked down the ramp off the ferry. She wondered as she stood there why they had waited until now to disembark, but soon realized they had been waiting for friends to gather to meet them. Playing assorted musical instruments, they formed a small marching band as they walked parade style into town, with only the distant toot of a horn a reminder that they had been there.

  Studying her map while she waited, Mara saw that Hoonah was not far from Sitka. She was starting to believe that Joe Michael was the same Joe who now spent his days riding the ferry throughout Southeast.

  Once back on board the ferry and safely in her berth, she had no trouble falling asleep before the ferry even got underway again. She even slept through a nighttime stop for refueling in Petersburg. The next two days were uneventful, with no sign of Joe and no opportunity that felt right for approaching one of the ferry workers about his story.

  She went to bed on the last night of the trip just as the ferry was pulling into Juneau. By the time she awoke the next morning, they had been underway again for several hours, and were entering the fjords of Lynn Canal at the northernmost end of the Gulf of Alaska. Huddled in one of the warm chairs on the front indoor observation deck, she took in the view. After a while, she put on the parka she had been using for a blanket, got up, and moved outside to be closer to the breathtaking sight of snow-covered mountains reflecting on the deep blue waters of the fjord.

  By late afternoon, the Malaspina had docked at the ferry terminal in the small coastal town of Haines, Alaska, where its route north ended. Mara looked for Joe as she got off the ferry with the other passengers, but saw no sign of him in the crowd. Neither did she see any sign of the man who said he was called Cap, or his dog Thor.

  Energized by the intense February sun, she toyed with the idea of traveling to Haines Junction as soon as her vehicle was unloaded from the ferry. She was disappointed that there had been no opportunity to talk to Joe. The man was as elusive as he was mysterious.

  Her stomach was a little queasy after having spent three and half days on the rolling seas and Haines Junction was a good day's drive ahead, so she decided to check into the only open hotel in town, happy to see that it had a restaurant attached. A hearty meal would probably settle her stomach. After eating, she would try to get good nigh
t's sleep and leave early in the morning.

  “No, thanks, I won't need help with my bags,” she responded to the offer of help from the desk clerk after checking in.

  Turning away from the registration desk, she ran squarely into Doug Williams who was next in line to register at the hotel.

  “Cap, wasn't it?” she smiled as she moved in front of him, apologizing for nearly running the wheel of her bag over his foot.

  “No problem,” he answered, stepping quickly back to get out of her way. “Glad to see you made it alright after what Thor and I put you through.”

  “Glad you made it, too,” she laughed. “I hope Thor finally got dry.”

  “Oh, he's dry,” Cap said wryly. “It took all night working on him with the blow dryer, but he is dry.”

  Walking across the lobby, pulling her bags behind her, Mara thought about how she hadn't laughed this easily since Brad died. Moments later she wheeled her things down the hallway to her second floor room. She heard the elevator door slide closed behind her.

  “Hello? Room Service?” she spoke into the phone in her room. Within fifteen minutes a steaming fried chicken dinner was delivered to her door. “Man, this is good!” she said to no one, gulping it down before leaving the empty dishes on the floor outside her room. By 9 p.m. she was asleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Risky Travel

  AS MUCH AS SHE TOLD HERSELF SHE LOVED THE SEA AND LOVED SLEEPING on the ferry, Mara was grateful to be on land again, even if it was only in the comfort of a hotel room. The deep slumber brought on by sleeping in a place not buffeted by rolling surf found her still asleep late into the morning of the next day. Reluctant to disrupt the contentment she felt, she yawned, rolled over and closed her eyes, cradling herself in the comfort of the bedding. Perhaps all the stress of finalizing Brad's affairs and uprooting herself to begin a new life had caught up with her. She picked up the phone and dialed the front desk, planning to extend her visit by one day. Impulsively, she dropped it back into its cradle before anyone had a chance to assist her. This was not the time to linger. What it was time to do was to resume her journey to a new life. Forcing herself to crawl out of her warm cocoon, she made her way to the shower, got dressed, gathered up her things, and set about beginning a brand new day.

  The hotel dining room was mostly empty as she enjoyed a bagel with cream cheese and sipped an espresso. Looking outside at the Malaspina tied up at the terminal, she felt a mixture of comfort and excitement in knowing that with her arrival on the ferry, the first leg of her journey had been completed. Still sitting there an hour later, she enjoyed a second espresso and watched the Malaspina pull away from the dock.

  A man standing on the second level of the departing ferry appeared to be looking her way. He looked like the old man they called Joe, but she couldn't be sure. She wondered if he could see her sitting there. Something told her he could. She started to get up and move to the window to wave to him, but he turned and walked out of sight before she could even finish rising from her chair. With so many new adventures ahead, she didn't worry about the missed opportunity to speak to the old man, convincing herself that her encounter with him and the feather had just been a quirky little interlude that she would remember later as part of the Alaskan mystique.

  She thumbed through her Alaska Milepost Magazine, mulling over the pages of information covering the route she would travel today. Every detail of the route was covered with intimate descriptions of each business and outpost along the way. She calculated her distance to the Yukon Territory town of Kluane and decided it was time to get moving if she were going to make it to her destination.

  Finally feeling a boost from the coffee, she loaded her luggage into her truck and checked out of the hotel. By noon she was driving up the hill out of Haines and heading towards Haines Junction some 160 miles away.

  Pushing the button to lower the driver's side window with her left hand while reaching for her water bottle with her right, Mara grabbed the steering wheel just in time to keep from wandering onto the shoulder of the road. In spite of the ten-degree temperature displayed on the rear view mirror, the sun felt warm on her face. She drove slowly, in no particular hurry to do any more than inhale the fresh air and take in the incredible sights.

  About five miles along, a disturbance next to the highway forced her to slow her vehicle to a crawl. Partly blocking the left lane were two cars whose rear wheels sat in the ditch buried up to their axles in snow. Through their steamed up windows, Mara saw several people sitting inside and tried to slow down to help, but her vehicle began to slide sideways and then backwards. Instinctively, she gunned the engine enough to start moving forward, thus avoiding joining the others in the ditch. In fear of again losing traction, she had no choice but to continue moving up the hill. Blunt logic told her that she could not help anybody if she were a casualty herself.

  A pick-up truck parked just off the shoulder of the road across from the stranded cars was spilling exhaust across the highway, nearly blinding Mara as she drove through the gray cloud it had formed in the frigid air. Through the mist she could see the blurry image of a man tying a bright yellow rope underneath the truck. She guessed that he was going to try to pull the others out of the ditch.

  Again, she tried to slow down so as to turn back and try to help, but felt her tires start to zigzag on the road. Once more, she gunned the engine, quickly making a decision to keep going or risk landing in the ditch herself. It was obvious there was no way she could stop to help at this point. The best she could do would be to try to send help at the next stop. Right now her cell phone showed no signal, which added a sense of urgency to her need to move ahead. She hadn't considered the remoteness and realized now that the cell phone had given her a false sense of security. She prayed that she would make it to Haines Junction okay. She did not allow herself to consider that she might not.

  RELIEVED WHEN SHE REACHED THE TOP OF THE HILL SAFELY, MARA PULLED over to the side of the road and watched two other vehicles power their way up the hill. First one and then the other pulled into the turnout beside her.

  Leaning out of his partially open door, and pulling off a fur hat to scratch his bald head as he spoke, a rotund man in a grape-colored minivan exclaimed, “Good Lord Almighty that was one scary climb!”

  “Definitely a white-knuckle ride for sure, dude,” a twenty-something male, sporting a scraggly goatee on his chin, said from the rolled down window of his white beater truck.

  “I wanted to help, but ain't got my chains with me and couldn't risk it,” the younger man said while the man in the purple minivan pulled his door closed.

  Jumping out of the open door of his pick-up, the younger man shook his head and slapped his thigh with one hand in frustration.

  “That'll teach me to not keep track of my gol darned stuff. I knew I should've got my chains back after I lent ‘em out.”

  Mara watched him wriggle a pair of snowshoes loose from underneath the pile of belongings in the bed of his pick-up and set them on the ground. Straightening the multi-colored knit cap with its pom poms dangling from points ending just below his ears, he spoke to the man in the minivan while pulling on a pair of gloves he had just removed from his pockets.

  “I'm gonna try to hike down and help that American pull them cars outta the ditch.”

  The bald man said something, but Mara couldn't make out what it was.

  “Yeah, I know it's two miles, dude.” She heard the younger man say. “Someone'll give me a ride back to my truck. I ain't too worried about that.”

  Again, the bald man spoke, but Mara could hear little more than a slight mumble and could not make out what he said.

  “Sure, send the Mounties if you can get hold of ‘em,” the younger man answered. Minutes later, the bald man, plopping the fur hat back on his head, pulled the purple minivan back onto the highway heading in the direction of Haines Junction, while the young man reached into his pick-up bed and lifted out a shovel that he leaned against his truck.
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  Mara had said nothing to either of them. Instead, she had chosen to lean back in her seat and close her eyes in an effort to calm the adrenalin rush that had left her in fear of reaching the summit of the hill. Her mind was racing with recrimination about why she had not gone ahead and purchased studded tires like originally planned, instead of the all weather tires that a salesman, unfamiliar with mountain driving, had told her would suffice. Beyond that, why hadn't she had enough foresight to put the chains that were in their box in the back of her SUV on the tires before attempting mountain driving in the winter? Milepost had clearly described the change in elevation that she would face. After a few moments, she got out of her vehicle and lifted the box containing the chains off the floor and tore it open. When she turned around to set them on the ground, the guy from the white pick-up was standing in front of her.

  “Here, I'll get those for you,” he offered. “You're definitely gonna need ‘em.”

  Mara introduced herself to the young man who she learned was named Kyle. She watched several vehicles down the hill struggle to gain momentum while he laid out the chains. It was obvious those drivers were doomed to meet the same fate as those already in the ditch. Driving onto the chains, she waited while Kyle linked them in place.

  “Can I pay you for your trouble—gas money or something?” she asked him.

  “No thanks, Ma'am,” he answered. “When you live up here, you learn to take care of each other. You'll be safer now. Just make sure you take these off just as soon as you get to the border. Things'll level off by then—and drive slow—no more than thirty or you might lose ‘em. Now go ahead and drive a few feet—slowly, now—so's I can tighten ‘em up.”

  Mara did as instructed, stopping to let Kyle adjust the tightness of the chains.