Chapter Three - Orcas Landing
The steel vehicle and passenger ramp
winches down and drops with a clang, just as the deck-man drags the safety
chain to one side. With a wave, he
motions the waiting foot passengers off the ferry and the captain blares Orcas Landing over the ships loudspeaker.
“See,” says Sammie, “Orcas Landing, last stop before Canada,
let’s go.”
They trudge up the boarding ramp,
both kids loaded down with backpacks, and hauling all their worldly
belongings. They blend in with the rest
of the foot passengers filing off the ferry.
Every one sports a backpack, and half of them are pushing bicycles laden
with camping gear.
“Joshua, up here, Joshua.”
“That’s my Aunt Maggie.” he waves to
her, and so does Sammie. “I guess it’s
time to say goodbye, I’ll see you around Sammie,” says Josh.
“I’m glad we met,” says Sammie, “Let’s
do something sometime if you want, or maybe I’ll see you out on the water, I
have lots of kayaks.”
“That would be great; I’d like that,
what’s your number, I’ll send you mine?” A second or so after entering Sammie’s
number into his phone and pushing send, Josh hears her phone chirp, and then he
disconnects. “There you’ve got mine.” He
takes the steps two at a time up the long flights of stairs to the upper
parking lot where his Aunt is waiting and waving; Sammie cuts across the street and nabs the
front seat in the Islander Shuttle
Service minivan. His words still echoing
in her head, Sammie can’t help smiling—That
would be great, I’d like that, we traded numbers too. I like that!
“Hi Joshua, we are really excited
you’re here, do you remember much, I think it’s been nine or ten years, hasn’t
it?”
“Oh, I guess about that, I remember
the ferry dock, and the smell of creosote, those big winches and the steel
ramps clanging with every car are pretty impressive to a six year old. I remember Grandpas cove, I didn’t know it
was called Pearson’s Cove until I saw it on my gps.”
“Well it hasn’t always been, we just
call it Grandpas cove, it used to be
West Cove, and Whale Cove, or maybe it was Whale Bay, but as the story goes, one day a county guy
asked your grandma what is was called so he could paint a street sign. She and
your grandpa were renting rowboats to tourists back then, so she told him if he
didn’t mind, to make it Pearson’s Cove with an arrow pointing towards the
marina. Now it says Pearson Cove on all the maps.”
“I saw you walking and talking with a girl;
did you meet her on the ferry?”
“That’s Sammie, she works at the Islander Grand Resort Bed and Breakfast,
she gave me a scare when she said the ferry was going to Canada.”
“That’s Samantha—wow, I didn’t
recognize her, she’s a foot taller since last summer. We should have given her a ride, we drive
right past the Islander. But, I guess it’s just as well, I want to run to town and get some groceries,
and I’m sure her mother is expecting her anyway.”
“Stepmother.”
“She told you stepmother huh.”
“Yeah, I don’t think she likes
working for her too much.”
After stopping at the store, Maggie
takes the long way to Pearson Cove; she pulls the rusty old pickup truck into a
scenic viewpoint giving Josh a chance to see the islands. They see the ferry making its way across Haro
Strait, trailing a wake of white foam headed for Canada. Maggie points to some of the hundreds of islands
and waterways surrounding them and lists off mostly useless names. Lopez, San
Juan, Blind Bay, Shipwreck. Squinting
westward into the afternoon sun, she points to Pearson Cove and the Islander
Resort out on the point.
“Uncle Chuck is waiting for us,” says
Maggie, pulling back on the road “he’s got the barbecue going, and we have the
buns.”
Chapter Four – Pearson Lodge
