Chapter Two - Sammie

Chapter Two - Sammie

Yesterday—

“Hi!—Hellooo...... I said Hi!—”

“Oh . . . you’re talking to me?” Oh geez, you dweeb, what a dumb answer.

“Well yeahhh,” she says, while twirling her sun-streaked hair around a finger.  “Do you see anyone else on the top deck of this ferry boat?”

“Well when you put it that way, just me I guess.”  Wow, she’s kinda pretty, her blue eyes sparkle—think, think, say something not too stupid, offer her a tic tac.

“My name is Sammie, what’s yours?” She looks straight into his face, he holds her stare for a second, and then looks down.   His legs shake, his chest quivers, his head swims.  She lets go of the hair twirl, setting the ringlet free, and starts another twist.  She tilts her head trying to make eye contact again.  His face flushes, and his cheeks burn.  

 She’s wearing a purple Orcas Island baseball cap with sunglasses perched above the sharply curved bill.  Her twirled hair ringlets hang below her shoulders cascading over a Columbia Windbreaker. The jacket is zipped to the top fending off the wind chill, but she is wearing shorts and sandals. She could be a cover girl for an outdoor magazine. 

“It’s Josh,” looking up he forces himself to return her smile, “I mean my name is Josh. Isn’t Sammie a boy’s name, do you know where this ferry is going?” That was so lame, I can’t believe I said it.  “Is that your dog?” Oh jeez, more stupid, of course it’s her dog.

“Her name is Sadie, do you think I look like a boy? It’s going to Canada, I saw you down on the dock looking at the line to the other ferry.”

“Canada!—oh crap, oops sorry,” he grabs his mouth, “I’m on the wrong ferry, I gotta get off.” I can’t get more stupid than getting on the wrong ferry.  Joshua grabs his backpack off the ferry deck and runs for the stairs. 

Sammie and Sadie bolt after Josh, “Hey, where are you going?”

 “To the other ferry, I’m supposed to be going to Orcas Landing.”

“Wait—that’s this ferry.” Hearing that, he stops at the top of the stairs.

“But you said it’s going to Canada!”

“It is—right after we get off on Orcas Island where I live. At least where I have to live all summer with my stepmother.”

“Oh wow—me too! I wouldn’t…”

The ferry horn drowns out any more talk; it blasts out a long ten-second warning that it is about to move away from the dock.  Immense power surges through the ships decks shaking railings.  It’s massive twin propellers churn ocean water into a frothy wake of sea creatures and kelp pushing the 400-foot vessel away from shore.

“I wouldn’t have made it—the other ferry I mean. I was panicked—I mean I live on Orcas Island too, not with your mother. I mean, I will be living there now, I guess. With my Aunt and Uncle.  I haven’t been there by myself, in a long time.  Well—I guess I’ve never been there by myself, actually—” I should shut up, she must think I’m dumber than dumb.  “Do we go to Orcas Landing or Orcas Island first, I don’t want to miss my stop and end up in Canada.  Do you want a Tic-Tac,” shaking the container, “it’s really just candy you know.”

Sammie holds out her hand, and he carefully shakes out two.  She contemplates his anxious question and considers telling him they are really going to Canada to see if he faints. He’s cute, I can’t be mean to him.  She leans against the heavily-painted railing, her hands behind her back, she rocks back and forth, fidgeting, and watching.

The ferry plows across the middle of four-mile wide Rosario Strait toward the San Juan Islands.  Cold seawater chills the wind keeping most passengers inside warm cabins.  Sammie’s hair streams behind her. Soon she crosses her arms and tucks her hands for warmth. Her bare calves and thighs double goosebump.  She watches Josh’s panic subside, he’s no longer super amped over what is really just a boring bus ride, but she catches him shyly sneaking peaks at her. She kicks off one sandal and shoves it between her backpack and duffel bag. The backpack is bulging and has a water bottle hanging from a cord, the duffle bag is adorned with a peeling save the whale’s bumper sticker, another sticker proclaims, caring counts, and an old earth first button dangles precariously. The zipper is broken, and it’s tied shut with a frayed red bungee cord with knotted ends.

Sammie rests her bare foot on Sadie’s back, and digs her toes into the sleek fur while watching the boy show off.  Josh treats the railing as a playground toy.  In her presence, he acts ten instead of almost eighteen. Enjoying Sammie’s attention, Sadie has laid her head on the duffle bag, she leaves one eye open. Her long Golden Retriever fur splayed on the deck is almost the same color as Sammie’s twirled ringlets.

 Finally, she says, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What?” Oh boy—what question?

“I asked you if I look like a boy?”

“No—I mean heck no.” —excellent answer! He looks directly at her, and when their eyes meet, she looks away.

“Good,” she says, hiding her smile, and aware that goosebumps just ran up her arms.

“It’s confusing, ”says Sammie, “but it’s the same place, Orcas Landing is like a bus stop for ferries, and it’s the only stop on Orcas Island. It’s the only way on or off the island, except flying, swimming or kayaking. It’s short for Samantha.”

“I would like to try it sometime,” he gets instantly red faced, and then blurts, “kayaking—I mean. I have an app on my phone, it does white water kayaking, but I’ve never done it, you know, for real.” Oh jeez, I’m sounding like an idiot, I should just stop talking.

“Want another.” He shakes the tic-tac container.

“Sure.” She holds out her hand, palm up. He shakes one out from six inches, and misses her hand. The tic-tac bounces once, and skitters across the deck and out the ships scupper to the sea fifty feet below.

“Oopsey,” says Josh.  Oh god I said Oopsey!

“Here, let me show you.” She takes the plastic container in her hand, and holds Josh’s hand with her other. Carefully jiggling two white mints into his hand, she takes one for herself, before pressing the container into his palm, and closing his fingers. “There,” she says, looking up at him, “that’s how you do it, any questions?” She holds his hand in hers for a second longer than necessary, and watches his reaction.

“I got it, I think.” Oh my gosh—her hands feel nice. Her look goes right through him, to avoid melting into the steel deck he quickly looks seaward, and that’s when he spots the pod.

“Look,” pointing, “out there, a bunch of dolphins.” Sammie turns and follows his pointing in time to see a far off Orca spouting before going under.

“Those are Orcas, Killer Whales,” she says.

“They’re fantastic; I hope they come around Orcas Island?”

Sammie is about Josh’s age, he’s taller at close to six feet; she has already sized him up and decided they could be friends. He doesn’t seem pretentious or needy. Just shy and tongue-tied.  He’s not bad looking, his hair is a mess, it needs cutting, or at least a good brushing like Sadie, but he looks fit.  His hands could use some lotion and he’s tan enough to have been outdoors more than once. Most importantly, he’s not saying crazy things, or dude and awesome all the time. He’s just really nervous traveling on his own, she suspects her outspoken personality has him a little taken back; she has a similar effect on all boys she meets, not so with girls though, girls try to compete and get snitty around her, especially the made up trampy ones.

“They hang around the straits,” says Sammie, “like out here.  I teach people how to kayak and sail, sometimes we see Orcas, but mostly seals.  My stepmother, Sandy, owns the—Islander Grand Resort Bed and Breakfast—and I work for her. So I also have to put fish bait on hooks, scrub toilets and change bedding.”

“Wow, sailing instructor, fishing guide and maid, all in one. Your stepmom is lucky to have you help her. I don’t know what I’ll be doing, but I don’t want to go back to Portland, so I guess I’m starting new today. I’m going to live with my aunt and uncle, they seem nice, but I only know them from holidays and at my mom’s funeral.”

“Your mom’s gone, that sucks, where do your aunt and uncle live?”

“I guess where I’ll be staying—Pearson’s Cove.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re Josh Pearson.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Josh looking puzzled like something more is coming.

“We’re neighbors—I know Maggie and Chuck—I send my newbie kayaker’s to your cove for practice runs, I guess I mean your grandfather’s cove.” Finally, someone my age to hang with.

“Really—were neighbors?— that’s great.” You being my neighbor is better than great, it’s awesome.

                                                Chapter Three  -  Orcas Landing

The steel vehicle ramp winches down and drops with a clang, as the deck-man drags the 

Chapter Three - Orcas Landing

                                                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

Chapter four - Pearson Lodge

Chapter Four, Five – Pearson Lodge - Proposal Rock

“Hey Josh,” says Charlie Pearson when Maggie shuts off the truck.

 “Hey Uncle Chuck.”

“It’s good to see you again, did you have any troubles getting here?

“Nah, for a second I thought I got on the wrong ferry.”

“Well, were sure glad you’re here,” shaking hands, but turning it into a shoulder hug. “We have plenty of time to talk or do whatever, or do nothing at all, you are not a visitor here, it’s your home for as long as you want, sound ok?”

“Sure Uncle Chuck.”

“I need to know one thing.” Says Charley seriously.

“What’s that?”

“Where are the buns? Let’s eat, you must be starving.” Charlie motions for them to follow him over to the large rock terrace where a beat up stainless steel barbecue and a handful of shoddy old deck chairs face the cove.  Charlie hands him a sizzling hotdog and points Josh to a tray of condiments.

 “You know, I have always called you little Josh, but you’re taller than me now, and nobody on this island calls me uncle anything. Why don’t I drop the little part, unless were around your friends, and you call me Charlie, Chuck, or Charles depending on how serious the discussion is.”

I’ll try, but mom and dad have always called you guys Aunt Maggie, and Uncle Chuck.”

“I don’t mind Aunt Maggie, it makes me sound important.”

“No it don’t,” says Charlie, “it makes you sound like someone’s out of town relative.  Josh, you can eat all want, or go inside and get situated, we figured you would like the room on the right upstairs, but there’s others, or if you want, you can bunk out on the dock or in the boat house, it’s your place.”

The old Pearson Cove Lodge was once quite a showplace when Josh’s grandparents were alive, and big.  Grande fireplace, big woodstove in a huge country kitchen.  Josh gets a big old guest suite with its own bathroom.  He tosses his backpack on the king-size bed, flips the light switch on in the bathroom and stares at his reflection in the mirror.   

“Well,  little Joshua?” he says to his reflection, but he doesn’t answer.    

Then he wanders around the house making his way back downstairs taking in the view from the big window in the great room.  He keeps saying, “Wow,” to himself, “everything is big,” as he discovers one thing after another, all of them big.  He spots the rowboat pulled up on the beach, upside down on the dock is a little sailboat, its mast missing.  There’s a dilapidated outbuilding by the gangplank begging to be explored, there’s bleached driftwood on the agate pebbled beach, trails lead into the woods and around the point.  He knows one of the trails goes to the Islander Resort, where Sammie lives. 

Out in the cove, he sees flat water and a group of diving birds, beyond is the main channel, the incoming tide mimics a slow flowing river.  Further out, across the channel are some of the islands he saw from the viewpoint, in reality, there are dozens more; it’s hard to tell where one island ends and another begins. Wow, getting lost in a small boat is a real possibility.   I should have paid more attention when Maggie showed me the big view.  He sees powerboats, their curling wakes following them.  Crossing the channel heading into the sun is a group of half a dozen kayakers, their dripping paddles flashing jeweled sparkles with each stroke.

Josh rejoins Maggie and Charlie lounging on the patio, the first thing he says is, “I’d forgotten how cool this place is, does the ferry go by here?”

“No—no ferries, just the rest of the world, we see everything sooner or later.” says Charlie, “our passage is off the main route, but between the islands out there,” pointing toward Shaw Island, “you can spot the inner island ferry heading for Friday Harbor.”

“I saw some kayakers’ way way out, where are they going, is it safe out in the middle?”

“Safe?—that’s up to them, but they could be going anywhere, there are twenty state parks paddling distance from here, we meet people that are thirty miles from where they started out.  Just around the corner,” pointing off to the right, “ is Rock Island and Mutiny Bay State Park, It’s got campsites, fire pits, a little cove with a dock, you should take a kayak and go exploring.  It’s just a teensy little island, perfect for a modern day Robinson Crusoe.  It’s also where your dad proposed to your mother.  Has he contacted you today?”

“Twice so far.”

“He’s pretty busy, coming home unplanned for the funeral and all like he did probably put the job behind, he’ll catch up to you when he can. They don’t come any better than Ray.”

“He texted me twice this afternoon, once on the ferry to tell me the captain wouldn’t leave unless I got off at Orcas Landing, and then ten minutes ago to tell me to move into the Sunrise room, and that the seventh step squeaked.”

“Oh, seventh step huh, did he tell you about it?”

“No, but I figure it has something to do with getting caught sneaking out at night.”

“You’re close—he got caught sneaking back in at 4 am, the step squeaked, and grandma met him at the top of the stairs. He said he miscounted, but she said he never miscounted, cause she always heard every step, when her boys came in late.   She said he just wanted to talk about going away to school and couldn’t wait for morning. I had already moved out, dad was off Island, so she was all he had to talk with.

“That’s funny.” Says Josh, becoming somber with thoughts of his own mother.

“There’s a lot of family history here Josh, and a lot more to come now with you here.

“Why haven’t I heard about the seventh step?” says Maggie.

“I guess it never came up before.”

“Anything else, I would be interested in?” says Maggie

“Of course—boys will be boys, but I’m not talking.”

“While you two are hashing out old times, is it ok if I take that rowboat down there for a spin.”

“Sure Josh,” says Charlie, “there’s life vests in the boat shed, be sure to take one—right?”

“Yes Uncle Chuck,”

“I’m sorry Josh, its hard to let go of little Joshua.”

“It’s ok, I don’t mind.”

The boat shed is a children’s treasure trove of, ropes, floats, paddles, wooden pulleys and decades of collected gear.   Josh picks out a life vest he wore when he visited once years earlier, the label reads, child’s under  fifty pounds,  he hangs it back on the peg and picks out an adult size.

 He spots a gnarly piece of driftwood leaning in a corner and remembers when he was only five years old finding it on the beach and giving it to his mother.  She saved it saying it was beautiful.  A flood of pent up emotion is unleashed and he tears up. Josh looks out the door toward the house; he doesn’t want to be seen crying.  Aunt Maggie and Uncle Chuck are still sitting on the terrace.  He picks out two matching oars with brass oarlocks and quickly makes his way over to the beach.  His eyes are blurry, he hurries to shove off before anyone notices, and wants to comfort him. The last thing he wants is someone telling him it’s alright, or let it all out.  What he wants is to be left alone. 

The aluminum boat is above the high tide line, a fuzzy weatherworn rope ties it to a rusty iron pipe set deep into the beach gravel; probably his grandfathers work.  Josh handles the knotted loop, it hasn’t been untied for a long time, turning it over and pushing on it, he quickly gives up, and lifts the loop over the top of the pipe the way it was intended.  Flipping the twelve foot boat right side up is a two handed affair but he manages it with ease.  Fiddler crabs scatter, disturbed before their normal high tide foraging foray. Josh half carries, half slides the lightweight dinghy down the steep beach.  He pauses for a second at the water’s edge to snap the life vest buckles, and knowing that Charlie and Maggie are watching and waiting for any clue they might be needed, he gives them a quick look and wave, but mostly he wants to assure they stay put and not rush down to the beach. Thankfully, they are still in their chairs and too far away to see him still tearing up.

He was a little boy when he learned to row a boat, but never was able to handle the adult size oars, however he did learn what was required, and now a decade later, he effortlessly pulls the oars in long deliberate sweeps. Each powerful stroke propels him further from embarrassing condolences and well-meaning words.  In seconds, the middle of the cove becomes his refuge where he is alone and secure with his thoughts. 

The water is fifteen feet deep and clear as an aquarium, except for his own rowing disturbance, the water surface is flat as a pancake.  Bottom creatures and the occasional fish, parade just for him.  He stops rowing and watches the underwater scenery unfold while he drifts over his personal gallery of nature’s artwork.  Glancing at the moving shore only fifty feet away, he becomes aware of the slight current. It has pulled him back, to where he started.  Josh resumes rowing, intent on following the curving shoreline all the way around to the narrow entrance.  He remembers being afraid of the big waves in the mile wide channel outside his grandfather’s cove.  Today the water out in the channel is not the beast of his childhood, instead it is enticing and welcoming, prompting him to keep rowing.

“Expect building waves in the morning, highs 60, lows 40,” he mimics a typical weather forecast, his mood greatly improved.

 To the left is the Grand resort where Sammie lives and works.  Maybe tomorrow he thinks, remembering her long ringlets, tan face and sparkling blue eyes.  She is probably in the middle of a reunion with her stepmother right now or already hard at chores, she never mentioned her dad, he must live there too, that would explain why she leaves her mother to live with her stepmom that she doesn’t like.  He wonders if her mom is married again.  He thinks about his dad, wondering if he will he get married again. If he married Sammie’s mom, she would be his sister. 

To the right Josh will have to row against the current, and not too far is Rock Island.  The shoreline beyond Pearson Cove is dotted with little bays, sandy beaches and vacation cabins hidden in the trees. He turns to the right and puts his back into the job; soon he is around the corner out of sight.  Rowing hard he is captain of the skiff, and owns the ocean.  He quickly masters what he learned years earlier, but wasn’t big enough to handle.  Pulling hard one of the oars creaks almost breaking, years of weathering have weakened the once stout wood.  Josh backs off, breaking an oar will make rowing difficult, but not impossible, he knows the current will carry him back, but with only one oar he would paddle in circles. 

Like most rowboats, he sits backward and must keep looking over his shoulder to see where he is going.  Facing backward also allows him to judge how far he has rowed; soon the cove is hard to see blending with the shoreline, but the point, a quarter mile beyond where Sammie’s resort is, sticks out like a sore thumb. 

While watching he sees a lone kayaker, its silhouette shoots out from shore.  It’s Sammie, he sees long hair, who else could it be?.  For a second he considers turning around, but doesn’t want to explain any red eyes.  He needs to stay alone with his thoughts, so he puts his back into another long stroke when snap.  The oar has broken clean off, right at the oarlock.

Oh crap, the first thing I do is break Uncle Charlie’s oar.  I’ll have to get a new one.  Using the remaining oar like a canoe paddle he awkwardly makes it over to the floating broken tip and fishes it out of the water.  The current drags him backward toward Pearson Cove. He paddles, but the single oar only spins him, turning him in circles.  Josh learns very fast that a rowboat is almost useless without two oars; He screams out in frustration that he can’t make it go in a straight line.  Eventually he gives up paddling and is satisfied to let the current bring him home.  The lone kayaker is headed his way and closing fast. Josh is sure it’s Sammie and there’s no doubt she’s a pro.  Her long deep strokes are picture perfect; each effort propels her slim kayak two-boat lengths.  She streaks past Pearson Cove intent on catching up to Josh. 

“Hi Sammie, I hoped it was you.  Boy you sure look great. I mean your paddling looks great.  Oh geez that didn’t come out right. You look great too.”

“Thanks Josh, I know what you mean, where’s your other oar, when I saw you take off from the cove you were really moving.”

“It’s right here,” he holds up the broken blade, “I guess I pulled too hard, do you know how I can get another?”

“Sure, get on the ferry and go back to Anacortes, there is a chandlery supply store there, or you can order it online, UPS delivers here every day. You know that’s not your fault, oars shouldn’t break, let me see it?” 

The kayak and rowboat drift side by side, each of them with one hand on the others boat.  They are facing each other and sitting in the boats closer to each other than when they were on the ferry.  Josh hands her the broken blade, and while Sammie studies it, he studies her.  She seems different now, more natural. On the ferry she was a smart ass, a pretty face putting on a show, now she is just herself, a likable confident and competent self.  He notices right away that she has traded her windbreaker for a bathing suit, but she is covered up with her life vest, her smooth legs disappear into the kayak.  Her hair is pulled back and tied with a sea shell and band, she has pearl ear studs, he smells perfume, and her cheeks seem softer, less wind burned.  Josh crosses a line when he leans slightly forward for a better view.

“Stop it,” she blurts at him.

“What.”

“You’re staring at me.”

“No I’m not.” He says, feeling like a little boy caught sneaking a peek.

“Liar—look—see this,” Sammie shoves her trimmed and polished fingernail into the soft wood, “You shouldn’t be able to do this.  The wood is old and rotten, and see this line here? It’s been broken before and glued back together.”  What Josh see’s is nine manicured nails, glistening polish and perfect fingers.  “You’re staring at me again.”

“ Sorrrry—I saw your broken nail, is that such a crime?”

“No, but if you don’t quit looking at me and pay attention,” pointing behind Josh, “you’re going to drift right by the cove, and then I will have to tow you in.”

“Oh my gosh. The current is fast.”  Lucky for Josh, he has to get busy paddling with the one oar;  otherwise he would still be answering Sammie’s pointed accusations.  Accusations she is thrilled to make because she is enjoying making him squirm.  Sammie tosses the broken oar into the open rowboat and shoves her kayak clear of Josh’s splashing flaying oar.  He stands up in the boat to get a better angle and immediately loses his balance, dropping to his knees to keep from going over the side.

“Nice recovery city boy, let’s race.”  She unleashes a flurry of powerful strokes and flies into the cove where she drops a tip and spins the kayak sideways to watch Josh struggle with the single oar. 

Uncle Chuck has been watching from the terrace and eventually makes his way down to the floating dock. 

“Hi Sammie, welcome back,” says Charlie, “are you here for the summer?”

“Hi Charlie, yeah, I came in this afternoon and met Josh on the ferry.  He’s doing pretty good with only one oar.”  They both watch, as Josh floats the final distance in the smooth water.

“That’s my fault Josh, those oars are rotten, I should have warned you to take it easy on them.  Bring the boat over here, I’ll take care of it, do you want to grab a kayak, it looks like Sammie needs a paddling buddy?”

“If it’s ok with you, that would be great.”

The two of them clear the cove and are back offshore in a few minutes, they head into the same current that brought the disabled rowboat back only this time Josh is chasing after Sammie.  No longer dwelling on himself or sad memories, he is lost in the moment, and right now, his only interest is in keeping up with the pretty girl effortlessly leading him in a friendly chase.  Josh paddles furiously and gains on her only to find he still can’t keep a straight line. He is wasting energy getting back on track.  Sammie  paces herself staying close but playing with him.  Thinking of him, sneaking peaks of her earlier brings a smile to her and makes her look herself over.  She takes two or three strokes and rests, then glances over her shoulder at his progress and paddles some more. Unlike Josh, she is comfortable, and looks like she could keep at it all day if she wanted.   They travel along the shore for half a mile staying out of the main current and the few boats that ply Orcas Passage.

“Hey,” Says Josh, “Let’s take a rest.”

“What’s wrong tired?” Sammie pulls next to Josh resting her paddle across both boats, holding them steady.

“No,” he lies, but his grin and panting betrays him. “I’m doing fine, do you have any water?”

“Yeah right here,” Sammie flashes him back a happy smile, “she hands him a sport bottle.  “You are doing pretty well for never having been in a kayak before; I mean a real one, not a virtual one.”

“Thanks, why do I have a hard time keeping it going straight.  You look like your hardly working and you’re going straight as an arrow.” 

She is smiling again because he has asked her for help; Josh is saying all the right things,  he respects her ability and isn’t hung up on being better than a girl. 

“You are almost able to keep up with me Josh, and that’s pretty good, except I’m taking it easy on you.  Once you learn a few strokes and master them you will have better control and be able to steer somewhat, but you will never catch me in that boat.”

“Why not.” He snaps, his competitive side suddenly coming to life.

“Simple, my boat is built for speed and long distance; yours is built for crashing into rocks and maneuverability.  This one has a keel and foot controlled rudder, plus it’s a lot lighter than yours.”

“Here’s the water, lets go.”

“Hold on, remember what I said earlier about keeping the paddle centered for balance, most people capsize when they are just resting like we are doing right now, they forget they’re in a kayak and over they go.  Watch me dip my paddle, see the angle, now watch again, the higher the angle the closer you can stroke and move forward.  With a lower angle, the stroke turns you, which is wasted effort if you don’t want to turn.”  Josh just received a thirty second paddling lesson, but in the last ten minutes, what he has learned most is that he likes her.

“That’s the state park right up there isn’t it, let’s go.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, and takes off with long strong strokes leading the way.  Sammie gets the challenge, but instead of racing, takes her time adjusting her seating position and taking some drinks of water.  She lets Josh get way ahead of her before finally taking her first few gentle strokes.  She accelerates and then settles into a steady rhythm, her kayak slices through the water and she effortlessly matches Josh’s speed following his erratic course.  He is frantically paddling as fast as he can, throwing water in all directions including all over himself.  She’s enjoying watching the show.

About halfway to the island Josh slows down thinking his macho effort has sealed the race.  Sammie allows herself to close the gap just a little but holds back about a hundred feet.  She sees Josh glance back at her, and she makes sure he sees her paddling and not coasting.   The approaching island has a small cove with a dock, and a steep gravel beach.  Once inside the cove, Sammie stretches out reaching forward doubling her stroke length, rapidly catching up to Josh.  The next time he checks she is right on his tail.  To gain speed he puts all he has into it, but Sammie takes some coasting strokes so she doesn’t pass him. Josh is first to the beach and slides straight up the pebbly gravel lifting the kayaks bow.  He realizes his mistake when the boat rolls; he drops his paddle and is dumped protesting into the three inch deep water beside the half-beached boat.  Sammie stops with a little sideways curtsey letting her momentum take her to the beach.  She carefully uses her paddle to push her kayak until it grounds out, and then she nimbly steps onto dry beach—pretty and picture perfect.  While Josh struggles, she reaches down and picks up her kayak, and carries it above the high water mark in the driftwood.  Josh is panting hard, more than half-soaked standing in the water, his paddle is floating nearby.

“You’re getting it,” coaches Sammie, “but don’t throw your paddle like that, use it to keep upright.

“Very funny.”

“No!—I’m not being funny, if you would have hung onto the paddle, and shoved it down into the gravel, you wouldn’t be dripping wet right now. Come on let’s hike the shore trail.”

  Chapter  Five - Proposal Rock

When Sammie releases the buckles opening the front of her life vest, Josh panics and looks away, but not before she sees him checking out her bare stomach for a microsecond.  They toss their life vests into the kayaks and scramble over the driftwood up to the trail.

“According to family legend, or Aunt Maggie, my father proposed to my mother somewhere here on this island.”

“Really, that’s so romantic,” says Sammie, “do you know where?”

“No.”

“You should ask your dad, is he around somewhere?”

“He’s in Europe, working on a project.”

“Is that why you’re staying with Maggie and Charley”

“Yeah, I guess so, we didn’t really discuss it, with my mom gone he and Uncle Chuck just decided and told me.

Josh’s text:

‘’Hey dad, I’m here hiking on Rock Island, where did you propose to mom?

Ray’s text: two minutes later

“On the rock on top.”

“Ok, thanks, btw I broke Uncle Chucks oar. bye.”

“Well, what did he say?”” asks Sammie, getting anxious and trying to read the screen.

“He says on the rock on top.”

“I know where that is, it’ a big rock, at the highest point on the island, it’s a glacier erratic, it rode in on a ice sheet during the ice age a billion years ago.  We can hike up there in twenty minutes.”

“Let’s go then.”

The two of them follow the shore trail, dodging drop offs and climbing over down trees,  soon a trail branches off climbing steeply up the bank.  They gain a surprising amount of elevation in a short distance, and stop in an open spot to catch their breath and share some water. The view out over the water is spectacular.  They can’t see around the corner back to Pearson Cove or the Grand Resort, but they can see out into Haro Strait and beyond to Canada.  In the strait, they see sailboats, their big colorful spinnaker sails flying like kites high above them. 

“The suns getting low, let’s keep going.” Says Sammie, my Step-mom will call the Coast Guard.”

“You can text her.” Josh holds out his phone.

“No, she won’t really, she doesn’t care, but she’ll get upset if I’m late for work in the morning.”

“Really—she doesn’t care?  I’ll bet she cares, she just doesn’t show it.”

“You haven’t met her, what do you know; your dad shipped you off to live with relatives too.” Sammie abruptly heads up the trail.

“Look, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to say anything bad.” He follows her up the trail in silence.  A few minutes later they have walked several hundred feet, mostly up, and reach the summit.  The top is a grassy open flat area.  The summit rolls over in all directions, so it is obviously the top. There are a few trees scattered around partially obstructing the view but the trees give the area a distinct sense of privacy.

 “There it is,” says Sammie, proudly pointing to a really big glacier erratic. It’s the size of a small car, and looks totally foreign and out of place, as if a helicopter delivered it to the top of the island for some kind of funny joke.  There are no other rocks in view and the ones down on the beach and along the shore are much smaller, and are sandstone.  This boulder is solid granite and came from Montana claims Sammie.

“One our guests knew all about these glacier erratic rocks and said the whole San Juan’s area is covered with them and it’s true, when we head back you can see little ones scattered around, but none are sitting on the very top of an island.  He said, a billion years ago when the sea was higher or the land was lower, a big floating iceberg with this rock riding on it had to run aground right here and then melt away leaving this boulder behind, how cool is that?”

Josh listens to Sammie’s geology lesson, but mostly he is intent on climbing on top of the eggish shaped boulder, then he sits.  Sammie gets back a ways and the runs up the side in two steps plunking herself down next to him. They stare out over Haro Strait.

“I wonder if this is where they were,” says Sammie, “sitting here like we are.”  She leans into him touching shoulders.

“What?” Oh geez he thinks, not again, he knows exactly what Sammie means and again says the dumbest thing possible, What—I may as well have said Duh.

“You know, the proposal.”

“OH— ah, I don’t know, I guess I could ask him, but wouldn’t that be prying.”

“No, it would be romantic.”  Josh stares, Sammie Stares, his heart rate increases and he flushes, he is sure he’s about to say something dumb, if he can even speak.  The sun is moving toward the horizon, but on top of Rock Island, except for building chemistry there is no movement.  And then, Josh is saved, when out in Haro Strait an orca   breaches.

“Did you see that,” Josh yells and points, “a whale jumped.”

“I saw it, look at the others,  there must be ten more.”

“There he goes again, this is awesome.  Do they come into this area?”

“Why—are you afraid?”

“No . . . well yes, I guess, it’s smart to be afraid, those are killer whales right.”

“They’re orca  s, just like we saw on the ferry, and yes they come in here, but usually they stay out in the big straits.”

“Where are they going?” asks Josh, impressed at Sammie’s knowledge.

“They circle the San Juan’s, they follow the tides feeding during incoming upwelling currents. They eat fish and seals, but mostly salmon.  They live here, just like us. Some are fifty or eighty years or older.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’ve been reading about them, and going to the whale museum in Friday Harbor, I think I may go into marine biology.”

“That’s way cool.”

“They talk to each other; they have their own language using clicks and whistles. They even remember people’s faces and voices, they also hold grudges, and have been known to get revenge.”

“You mean like in Moby-Dick.”

“I think that was the other way around, what I meant is, they get revenge on each other.”

“What-ever,’ says Josh, “I don’t see them anymore, we should head back anyway.” He jumps off the rock, and then turns offering her a hand. Their palms come together in a high five, fingers fold over.  Trusting him, she jumps.  Both kids are keenly aware this is the first time they have touched intentionally. She lands lightly facing him; his other hand goes to her waist steadying her, her free hand lands on his shoulder. They are facing each other in front of proposal rock.  Her eyes and perfume capture his senses.  They are close enough to kiss.  Don’t panic, do it.

Josh lets go first, looking away relieved.  He doesn’t see her smile fade, turning to pouting lips.

The hike back down to the beached boats takes mere minutes; they jog most of the way.  Josh detours out on the floating dock.

“Why didn’t we come in here, then I wouldn’t have gotten wet.”

“The beach is easier if you do it right,” she pokes him in the ribs laughing, “try it sometime, you will see.”

The paddle back is over much too quick, the current whisks them along, they float side by side talking the entire way. By the time they get back, they have shared secrets and feelings cementing their friendship.

“Let’s have a beach fire tomorrow.” Says Sammie, before she peels away at the cove.

“Sure,” says Josh, “where?” Having only seconds to make plans before the current pulls her away.

“Anywhere, text me.”  Josh waves his ok. Sammie waves too.

       Chapter Six

“Good Morning Josh, are you hungry,” Says Maggie, “I’m making pancakes.”