Sitting at her son's bedside, Danalee Jackson tucked the
Spiderman bedspread next to her sleeping five-year-old. Eyes
peacefully closed, he didn't stir as she gave his forehead a
loving stroke. Even as a baby, Terran had been a deep sleeper.
A soft light enveloped the bedroom, its source the
night-light plugged into the wall. Two dresser drawers
remained half-opened, as if Terran had been looking for
socks and underwear after his bath. Toys were scattered over
the floor: a vibrating and light-blinking astro-man gun,
dinosaur card game and the remote-control stingray with a
water puddle spread beneath it on the hardwood floor. He
must have brought the toy into the tub with him. His ice
skates and hockey stick lay where he had dropped them Monday
night after practice.
As she watched her little boy sleeping, her heart swelled
with a sweet, aching love. Life before him seemed a distant
memory, and Dana couldn't help reflecting back upon all the
years that had brought her to this moment in time.
Everything had happened at once. One life began and another
had ended. It had seemed the worst of ironies six years ago.
Dana had been earning a decent wage as a checker for the
town's only Safeway grocery store, when Cooper Boyd began
regularly waiting in her line. Sometimes he bought one
meal's worth of food. Other times he bought paper products.
Most of the time, he didn't bother with the main aisles—he
became strictly a checkout-aisle shopper. He bought the
stupidest things just to go through her lane so he could
talk to her. Spicy corn nut packages and a sudoku puzzle
book were among his purchases, and later she laughed when
she discovered Cooper had zero aptitude in math.
While he did passably well in the looks department, it was
Cooper's sense of humor that provided relief to her day.
Working at a grocery store had been like working at a
circus. Between the check staff, the managers, the various
department heads and the box boys, there were a lot of
issues, and many customers came with their own set of quirks.
There was the four-hundred-pound woman who clipped ankles
with the wheels on her power chair. On his breaks, Scout,
the morning box boy, took the electric cart out and spun
doughnuts in the icy parking lot, then returned the chair to
charge by the front doors. Another regular customer was the
unshaven, out-of-work guy who always came in wearing his
pajama bottoms and cheap rubber flip-flops.
And then there was Tori Daniel.
Without fail, whenever Tori came in wearing a thin top,
black leggings and knee-high Ugg boots over her shapely
calves, you could be assured every male within a ten-mile
radius had her on his radar. When she turned her cart into
the frozen-foods section, her headlights came on and
suddenly anyone wearing boxers or briefs seemed to have
business by the fish-stick case.
Grocery store work hadn't been Dana's dream job, but it had
been a great employment opportunity in Ketchi-kan. She'd
been without a college degree and had no desire to get one.
If it hadn't been for…well, a lot of things. Who knew, maybe
she would have stuck it out and applied for a managerial
position.
Cooper, with a dirty-blond shock of hair over his brow, was
slightly stocky but not overweight. She found out through
the gossip circle at the Pioneer Café that he'd been born
here, but moved to Homer in the first grade. Now that he'd
returned to Ketchikan, he planned on starting a hockey
league at the local rink.
She began looking forward to seeing Cooper Boyd's smiling
face in her lane.
On a rainy Saturday morning, a ginormous jar of
extra-crunchy peanut butter came rolling down the conveyor
belt with Cooper trailing behind it. That was the day he
asked her out.
As far as first dates went, theirs had been low-key. Burgers
at Burger Queen and a make-out session afterward in the
front seat of his Dodge Ram at a scenic overlook. They
didn't do anything other than kiss, but his technique had
lit her on fire like a Fourth of July rocket.
A few days later, she brought him to meet her parents.
Dana's father hadn't thought too much of Cooper's potential,
and neither had her older brother, Terrance— who'd been her
idol since she'd been a toddler and able to stand and look
up to him. Terrance said Cooper rubbed him the wrong way,
claiming Cooper didn't readily look him in the eyes when
they had a conversation. He said an honest man would have
nothing to hide.
Rare were the times when Dana disregarded her brother's
advice, but that had been one of them. She caught herself
making excuses for Cooper, telling her brother he needed to
extend himself more and get to know Cooper better.
Maybe she felt that way because it had taken Cooper so long
to ask her out. So he had a few shortcomings. Who didn't? He
was easy to talk to, he always picked up the tab and the
physical attraction was too hot to deny.
In the end, Terrance's final word had been she'd have to
learn from her own mistakes. After all, at twenty-two, she
lived on her own and took care of herself in her own apartment.
Dana's mom, Suni, had been reserved in her opinions about
Cooper. A cultural thing perhaps, but since Terran's birth,
her reticence had all but vanished in a vapor. Now she had
plenty to say about Cooper.
Leaning forward to kiss Terran's sweet-boy cheek, Dana let
memories from the past slip away. Things that had happened
six years ago shouldn't be dwelt upon. She only had one
sinking regret; it caused a dull heartache that sometimes
consumed her. Her father and brother weren't here to watch
Terran grow up.
They would have been so proud of him. Even of her, and the
woman she'd turned into.
As Dana rose from the twin bed, fatigue overtook her. Even
after so many years as the owner, the late hours she put in
at the Blue Note still felt foreign to her. There were
moments when she longed to call it quits by nine o'clock and
be home to put Terran to bed herself. She savored Sunday
when the bar was closed. And she looked forward to Tuesday
and Thursday nights when her trusted employee, Leo Sanchez,
took over her duties and she had a couple of blessed nights
at home.
Tonight was not such a night.
The hour had to be somewhere around two-thirty. Walking to
her bedroom, she paused, then took the stairs to the
kitchen. She knew from experience it was impossible for her
to come home, crawl into bed and fall instantly asleep. She
had to decompress and unwind, look through the mail, make
out a grocery list, mindlessly click through the television
stations. After today, she might even eat a Twinkie.
Quietly heading into the kitchen, she flipped on a light,
then stood bleary-eyed in front of the open cupboard. No
Twinkies. No Ding Dongs. Not even a homemade cookie. Just
Goldfish crackers. Not her usual choice, but she was hungry
and decided to plunge into the box of processed cheese and
sodium.
Today had been very, very long. Made longer by the two
fish-brains belting each other this evening.
Sometimes she wanted to walk out of the Blue Note and never
go back… but she couldn't do that to her father. Never.
Ever. He counted on her, even in death. She felt it. She
knew it was what he'd want. And a part of her, the part she
kept hidden from everyone, even her mother, was a part of
her that was afraid to let go.
"I didn't know you liked Goldfish."
Dana turned to find her mom standing in the kitchen doorway
wearing a flannel housecoat and squinting against the bright
light. Her inky-black hair brushed her narrow shoulders.
"I don't," Dana replied, digging back into the bag. "We
don't have anything else to munch on."
"There's fruit in the fridge. Apple slices. Terran had some
with his dinner."
"I'm not in the mood for fruit."
Suni reached around her for the peanut butter jar. "You
don't eat enough fruits and vegetables."
Had Dana not counted on her mother in a hundred different
ways, she may have made a retort. But she kept her comments
to herself. If it hadn't been for her mother helping with
Terran, she'd be lost.
Her mom whipped up two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,
then poured two icy-cold glasses of milk. "Sit down, Dana.
You look ready to drop."
"I'm so tired." She sank into the chair, grateful to be off
her feet. "A pair of mainlanders broke two glasses and a
beer pitcher and spilled hot wings all over my floor."
And a guy called me sweetart, as if I were a piece of
candy.
Dana's thoughts hadn't dwelled on the man who'd said it, but
now she let herself recall the sound of his voice. Deep and
husky, a dose of sarcasm mixed into his words. He was
good-looking and he knew it.
Quiet resistance fell over Suni's face. A long moment passed
and she said nothing, as if biting her tongue. Then, the
inevitable question: "When are you going to sell the Blue Note?"
Dana didn't respond. "You don't have to get up every night
to check on me when I get home, Mom. I'm okay."
"You're not okay."
Refusing to have the same discussion over and over with her
mother had gotten easier. Dana had her own tactics in their
verbal warfare. In a way that usually worked, she steered
the conversation in a different direction.
"The bears haven't gotten into our garbage cans lately. It's
a pain to keep the trash on the service porch, but at least
it saves us from cleaning tipped-over cans on the front lawn."
"I'm grateful for that. Nothing worse than smelly trash in
the grass." Suni put the peanut butter and bread away. "Come
to bed, Dana."
"I will."
A single light on a side table remained switched on
downstairs as they climbed the steps. When Terran had begun
walking, Dana feared that he'd somehow get up from his bed
at night and fall down the stairs. She started leaving a
light on, just in case he woke and ended up on the landing.
For a time she'd used a baby-gate, but he figured out how to
open it, and the restraint was all but worthless.
No longer worrying about Terran and stairs, Dana still kept
the lamp on for comfort and no other reason. The milky glow
helped make the home feel guarded downstairs.
Dana had few fears, but being home alone in a dark house was
one of them. There was something to be said for having a man
in the house at night. Too bad she didn't know of any.
Too bad Cooper Boyd had turned out to be a bad nightmare.
Dana undressed for bed, then slid between the warmth of new
flannel sheets letting go of the day. She finally relaxed.
Closing her heavy eyes, her thoughts drifted like a tide
rolling back into the sea. She was too tired to keep the man
who had challenged her to smile from her mind. She tried to
remember his face.
He had nerve, that's for sure, and a confidence she rarely
saw in men who flirted with her, and this one had done so
quite blatantly. Most came on to her with a lot of
pretense—cock-and-bull stories, but when it came to asking
her out, many didn't follow through. Her brother had told
her that since she was so beautiful, men had a difficult
time with her looks. They felt threatened.
Dana rolled onto her side, hugging the pillow and settling
into a drowsy warmth. She didn't think she was that pretty,
but she did acknowledge she was different. Nobody else in
Ketchikan was black and Chinese, with a quarter Caucasian
thrown in. And that did set her apart.
"But I'll come back another time to make you smile."
Yeah, sure… go ahead and try.
Those were her last thoughts before falling into a deep sleep.
"I'm not going to Kenai—just thought you should know." Mark
spoke into his cell phone.
From the redwood deck of Jeff's rental condominium, Mark
gazed at the panoramic scenery below. Cedar and hemlock
trees flanked the steep hillside, the ground alight with
white and purple blooming flowers. An overcast sky hung
heavily in the air, but he could make out the waterway.
Earlier this morning, the harbor had been cloaked in fog.
Now he could see four monstrous cruise ships, like large
bleached-white whales, lining the dock space.
"Where are you?" his sister, Francesca, asked.
"Ketchikan. My connection was canceled on Monday, then I
missed Tuesday afternoon's flight out. We went fishing first
thing and didn't make it back on time. So I'm staying at
Jeff Grisham's rental condo for the duration."
Mark fought off a yawn. He'd woken when the sun began to
break just after four—six o'clock Boise time— and he could
have used a couple more hours after last night's lack of
sleep. Years of hitting an alarm at that hour and the habit
of getting up early meant he was awake for the day.
"Duration of what?" Franci's voice reverberated through the
line, concern marking her tone. "Who's Jeff Grisham?"
"A guy from Seattle I met at the Pioneer Café two days ago.
I went in for lunch to wait for the next flight out and we
got to talking. He's here to go fishing, so I decided to
stay overnight because he hooked me up with a sweet fishing
charter in town. Then I missed my re-ticketed flight because
our boat was late getting back." A sparrow swooped onto the
deck, pecked at something, then flew off. "Be on the lookout
for a big box of frozen fish. I sent you, Robert, John and
Mom some halibut and salmon."
His brother Robert owned a restaurant and would appreciate
the fine catch. John was a lawyer and his kids probably
wouldn't go for fresh fish, but he'd sent some anyway. His
mother would cook it for sure. Fran-cesca… she'd probably
have her husband, Kyle, fix it for them.
"Okay, thanks." Then just like his sister, she went on with
the grilling. "So why aren't you going to Kenai now?"
"What for? Fishing's great here. And that's the whole reason
I came to Alaska."
The line grew quiet for a long breath. "I know why you went
to Alaska, Mark. Don't try and hide the truth from me. You
need time to think about Dad and what you're going to do."
"Yeah, sure. I know that." He leaned against the deck stair,
his bare feet propped on the railing's lower rung.
There was a cold chill this morning, but he hadn't readily
noticed when he'd stepped outside wearing jeans. His
long-sleeved Moretti Construction T-shirt warded off some of
the earlier morning bite, but not much. Coffee cup in hand,
he'd been thinking about too many other things to bother
with boots or a sweatshirt.