Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Literary Fiction
Publisher: KDP
Type: Fiction
Pages: 250
Copyright: Jan. 23, 2022
ISBN-13: 9798769134401
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
In Book 3 of The Jessie Morgan Series, our heroine voyages solo into the wilds of northern British Columbia and Southeast Alaska. Traumatized by her ex-boyfriend’s violent attack, she seeks refuge in the remote North Country – where she hopes he cannot find her.
Or can he?
It’s May 1975 and Jessie needs to disappear.
In Book 3 of The Jessie Morgan Series, our heroine takes to the sea and to the rugged Stikine River, voyaging solo into the wilds of northern British Columbia and Southeast Alaska. Traumatized by her ex-boyfriend’s violent attack, she escapes to the remote, off-the-grid North Country – where she hopes he cannot find her.
Or can he?
Jess experiences true wilderness, has adventures on commercial fishing boats, and battles her persistent, post-assault fears. In Sitka, she joins a support group for battered women, and realizes that she is not alone in the struggle to heal.
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1 (first scene only)
Jessie stood at the ship rail in the evening drizzle, smoking and watching the Seattle dock workers scurry around. They yanked a metal loading ramp off the ferry, sending it crashing onto the wharf with a piercing clank that made her jump. The men threw the ship’s lines to the crew onboard. She absently moved her free hand to the snug collar of her hunter-green turtleneck, feeling the tender bruises on her throat. Swallowing hard, she cursed herself again for letting a man like Twisty into her life. Or a man like Carl. What the hell was wrong with her?
The ship horn blew a sudden, earsplitting blast that made her jump again. Man, was she a wreck or what? Jess took a deep drag and looked over her shoulder at the bridge deck. Three rugged-looking young men stood at the rail laughing and smoking a joint. Everyone else was inside the solarium. Cringing again as the horn announced their departure, she wished she’d packed cotton balls for her ears. Maybe tissues would work.
Jess couldn’t wait to get going. Thank God for the Alaska Marine Highway ferry, which would carry her far to the north – worlds away from the California trouble. This would be quite the adventure. She had no idea how to get to her brother Jack’s remote place in northern British Columbia, or where she’d stay along the way. He didn’t know she was coming. What a trip, surprising him like this. Jack, two years older than Jess, had moved to Canada because of the Vietnam draft. In his last letter, he’d mentioned that he planned to become a Canadian citizen.
A wave of exhaustion rippled through her. She’d pulled an all-nighter, having taken the red-eye from San Francisco last night. By the time she’d reached downtown Seattle, it had been four in the morning – too late for a motel room to make sense.
As the Malaspina pulled away from the pier, Jess shoved her cigarette butt into an almost-empty Coke can and took ragged breaths of the misty air. Shaking the can to make sure the cigarette was out, she felt for the zippered velvet purse strapped across her chest under her rain poncho. She traced the outline of her wallet. Reassured, Jess tucked loose strands of her almost-black hair into the poncho hood.
Seattle’s soggy wharves smelled briny with a hint of creosote. As the Malaspina turned, Jess spotted two Washington state ferries passing each other in the gray Puget Sound evening, a handful of skiffs bobbing in their wakes. A cargo ship was headed out to sea and a dozen commercial fishing boats were coming in, trailed by clouds of fluttering seagulls.
The ferry turned again, cruising north along the city’s dripping waterfront. Jess lifted her face into the breeze, a part of her unwinding. Her shoulder blades loosened a little. The drizzle was a mist, a cloud. It reminded her of backpacking last summer in Montana’s Glacier National Park. She and Forrest had dropped acid and hiked toward the Continental Divide. Sitting on the high trail, a cloud had swept over the craggy mountains and swooped down to envelope them.
The Pacific Ocean mist was different. It was layered, like the layers of crap Jess kept trying to shed. Like peeling an onion, the therapist said. She shrugged and lit another Benson & Hedges 100. It would be a lifelong process, creating the inner change she craved. Jess wished she could simply cut out her uptight, angry, unkind parts. Insecure, anxiety-ridden parts.
Here she was, running away again, like she did in 1971. That time it was Dad driving her nuts at home; this time it was her ex-boyfriend Twisty, a nutcase speed freak who apparently wanted to kill her. When she first met him, Jess had been attracted to his dark, rugged looks. He’d had a “bad boy” edge she’d found exciting, until it turned into violence. Christ! Was she moving forward or backward? Now she had another layer of fear to peel away. Was life a matter of losing some layers but acquiring others? Maybe life was like the gray Seattle mist, disappearing but then swirling back in. Never staying the same.
As if reading her mind, the smoky mist lifted, allowing Jess to view the Space Needle beyond a green beachfront park. Hillside windows facing the water were lit from within, their golden glow piercing the gloom. She never wore a watch, but figured it must be close to sunset. If the Malaspina was on schedule, it would be a little after eight p.m.
Her right hand moved to the pocket of her windbreaker, feeling her new Swiss Army knife and the small plastic container of cayenne pepper. She’d made good use of her time in Seattle, buying things with cash to avoid leaving a paper trail. Twisty couldn’t trace her to this place. He was in jail anyway.
Still, the situation made her edgy as hell. She took another deep drag on her cigarette.
“Of course you’re jumpy,” her friend Cat would have said.
She missed Cat already.
Jess had hit the REI store and bought the knife, wool socks, and a Eureka Timberline II tent, which she’d tied onto the bottom of her pack with two yellow bungee cords. She’d been careful only to purchase things she would need up north. When she’d told the salesman where she was going, he’d suggested she get cayenne powder and keep it handy. Throwing something fiery like that into a bear’s face was a decent defense, he’d said.
But bears were the least of her worries, at least for now. Glancing over her shoulder again, she noticed that the dope-smoking group had grown to five guys and two women.
In Seattle Jess had also stocked her backpack with cigarettes, sandwich makings, snacks, and some used paperbacks – Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and Maya Angelou’s Gather Together in My Name. Then she’d gone to a hole-in-the-wall diner near the Alaska Marine Highway pier and enjoyed some hot chowder and sourdough bread.
Because she’d walked onto the Malaspina with camping gear, the two-and-a-half-day cruise up the Inside Passage cost only seventy-two bucks.
Jess couldn’t believe it.
Inhaling the slightly fishy sea air, she turned sideways and studied the solarium. Situated on the top deck, it was enclosed on three sides and open toward the stern. Two passengers had set up tents out on the stern deck, taping the tent corners down. Everyone else was camping in the solarium, which had heaters between the ceiling’s see-through panels.
Among the first to board, Jess had claimed a white chaise lounge next to the windowed starboard wall, unpacked her sleeping bag, and laid it out on the chair, which could flatten for sleeping. Then she’d hung out on it, leaning against the wall and watching people pile in and claim their own seats. Fine drops of drizzle had collected on the outside of the windows as the solarium filled with campers in plaid shirts, faded jeans, and heavy-duty boots.
Jessie’s hiking boots were still in her pack, and she wore a purple sweatshirt under her poncho. Why hadn’t she packed her plaid flannel shirt? She shook her head at herself. It was a miracle she’d managed to pack at all, she’d left so quickly. Her heart drooped, as heavy as a lead ball, as she remembered that day in Berkeley. How many days ago was it? Things had happened at lightning speed, from the shock of finding Twisty at her front door to confronting him to…
Jess turned back to the rail and shook it off, not ready to think about that. The clouds still hung low, and a patch of fog had swirled in to hug the shore. Her Montana uncle would have called this “socked in.” Looking around the bridge deck again, she couldn’t believe she was cruising to Alaska. A few days ago, Jess hadn’t even heard of this ferry system.
She itched to write letters to her friends and family about what she was doing.
No, she told herself, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. No mail. What if he got his hands on a letter?
Maybe she could write to them in her notebook – letters she wouldn’t send. Letters she could share someday, capturing this moment, this mood. So much had happened, Jess had a kaleidoscope of thoughts flashing around in her brain.
Watching Seattle vanish behind them, shrouded in somber clouds, Jess realized that some things do stay the same: she hadn’t allowed Dad to control her life in 1971; she wouldn’t let Twisty ruin her life now. This trip could be seen as her running away, but it was also loping forward – answering to herself. Once again, Jessie was out to experience everything.
Let it come, she thought, leaning into the breeze. What was there to lose? Cool air caressed Jessie’s face as the Malaspina picked up speed, churning toward the Inside Passage. The ship’s humming vibrated through the soles of her sneakers.
The mist shifted from flat gray to an iridescent violet. Sunset! The color reminded Jess of lavender lilac blooms. She leaned against the rail and watched the fog slowly darken into a rich, deep purple.
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