“But, Mercy, your head is okay?”
“Yes. I have a dent and a sore spot and a bluish line across my forehead but I’ll survive. Now, you’ll let me know if anything comes of this?”
“Surely. Aha, something else is coming in! Whiskey Jack. He’s another live one. Better go. Thanks again for all of this. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”
And then Norman’s gone, the line is dead and I’ve had my thrill for the day.
don’t be silly! the world is your oyster
if you don’t hide under your shell yo u know
“Aunt Ginger, come right out wherever you are! Don’t take potshots at me. It’s not fair!”
I am shaking with fear and trying for a determined, angry effect now, ready to have it out with that ancient flapper, that octogenarian black sheep.
And there she sits on the burgundy divan. Dyed black bob, hooded green eyes with Rudolph Valentino makeup, the silk teal-green dance dress we cremated her in. She crosses the famous legs and lights a lean brown cigarillo. And smiles her most winning smile. I must have bitten my tongue when I fainted.
Four
Sadie Brown licks my face and whimpers and nudges at me. I am on the Persian carpet, the one some prince gave to you-know-who after seeing her dance in some tent in the Moroccan desert. I now have the opportunity to study the pattern closely and I find it pleasing to the eye. Little lions and fish and birds. Gold and turquoise and a deep, dark red.
“I’m okay, S.B.,” I manage, finally.
The phone rings and I am momentarily confused as the ringing in my ears competes for attention. I stick out my tongue and touch the bitten part with my finger. My elbows must have taken the brunt of this tumble because they are fiery with pain. I can’t take much more of this. I get up on my hands and knees and trundle over to the phone while S.B. howls pitifully.
“Stop it! It’s the phone!” I say this to her every time the phone rings more than twice and I’ve been saying this for nine years to no avail.
“Hello?” I say in a rickety voice I barely recognize.
“May I speak with Mercy Brown please?” A brisk, pleasant-sounding woman’s voice.
“This is she,” I say, automatically reaching for my pen and notepad and discreetly clearing my throat.
“Lona Garrison of Great Northwest Expeditions here. I’m replacing Bronwen Williams who’s on leave for three months. She suggested I get in touch with you about a feature issue for the magazine. It’s about the Alaska Highway, Dawson Creek to Fairbanks, which we’d like to send you up to cover.”
“Well, that sounds interesting! What’s the deadline?” I try to sound brisk and pleasant myself. I feel like whooping with unrestrained glee!
“First of August. Can you manage that? We’d want you to drive down from Fairbanks to Dawson Creek and to take the BC Ferries boat up, connecting with an Alaska State Ferry in Prince Rupert, docking in Haines, Alaska. We booked passage a year ago, so it’s confirmed from Port Hardy for June first.”
“Sounds fine!” I chirp. “It’s been a while since I hit the road for a good, long stretch. I’m looking forward to going up that far north. I’ve only been up as far as Prince Rupert.”
“Good to hear. You’ll recall our Spring issue was entirely devoted to the anniversary of the building of the Alaska Highway. It generated so much interest that we decided to follow up with more northern feature issues. So, we’d like you to give us a variety of human settlements, from isolated cabins to the big cities, any wild river stories you can deliver and...oh, okay, Ed wants me to tell you he really likes the hot springs article you just filed and he says there are some nifty hot springs up there too. Does this resemble hard work yet?” She sounds nice. I’m glad they have somebody good to fill Bronwen’s shoes.
“It sounds like the ideal assignment, thank you very much!”
“Thank you for taking this on, Mercy. We know you’ll do a great job. ‘A fine photojournalist in one energetic package’ is how Bronwen described you! I’ll send your press pass, the contract and supporting materials by courier today. Feel free to call us, if you have any questions at all. Bye now.”
I must remember to thank Bronwen for recommending me for this. Heck, I’ll wire her some flowers. This is big-time for me. Great Northwest Expeditions pays just one rung below National Geographic. Two assignments from them in one year! At last, a decent stretch of well-paid work instead of having to slave over short newspaper pieces that take me nearly as much time to research as full-length articles. I’m lucky to break even on those if I value my time at all, and I do.
I don’t want to sit on the divan where I hallucinated Aunt Ginger. I flop into the big olive-green mohair armchair, switch on the lamp beside me and sink into the most comfortable chair in the world.
“Sadie B., we are living in interesting times, old thing,” I say, scratching behind her ears with my left hand. I stick out my tongue to see if I can still locate my bite mark. At this rate of self-inflicted physical abuse, I am likely to drown in my evening bath. Fear of bathtubs. Drainophobic? Hydrophobic? Mercy, get a grip.
I’ll have to make a list for this trip. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Nothing like a nice tidy list to settle a person down.
Van
tune-up, oil change
rotate tires, decide on spares (check specials at shops)
stove fixed and hooked up
ditto for fridge
wire mesh to protect headlights
new exhaust and muffler system
Total est. $650-$750
Work Gear
tape recorder, tapes, batteries
camera and bulk film
all the usual/notebooks/pens
maps, The Milepost guide to the Alaska Highway, compass
laptop, etc.
sketch book, pencils, charcoals
Food Supplies
40 kg kibble
30 tins of S.B.’s canned food
2 extra insulin
90 needles
90 dog biscuits
30 noodle dinners
30 herbs’n’butter rice pkg.
10 kg 7-grain cereal
5 kg powdered milk
2 kg demerara sugar
5 pkg. coffee
Earl Grey, mint, rosehip tea bags
24 tins mushroom soup
24 tins salmon
24 tins sardines
24 cans 2% milk
12 packs of rye crisp
popcorn
spices, engevita yeast, oyster sauce
dried soup mix (bulk)
1 pkg parmesan cheese
12 cans garbanzos
12 cans kidney beans
12 cans each green & yellow beans
olive oil,