The Carrier (The Carrier Series Book 1) (2 page)

But he didn’t hear my thoughts, of course, and
I saw him take a seat in the front row.

Right up front!

My heart raced as I felt my mouth drying out.
How would I be able to sing on this tour?

Darren wished me a great tour and then walked
down the dock and up the stairs to talk to the dispatcher, Rob, at street
level. I loaded the rest of the passengers, and when I got the “okay” wave from
Rob, I untied the bow and stern, closed the gate on the back deck with shaking
hands, and cautiously walked down the four steps to the bottom deck of the
boat. There were two families seated by the windows, but it was mostly empty.

Nolan sat alone in the very first row of
chairs. I walked up the aisle right past him and took my seat on my high stool
upfront.  Nolan eagerly looked up at Jack and me, and I thought the
butterflies in my stomach were going to fly up my esophagus and spew out of my
mouth. What would Jack do if I threw up right there at his feet as he was
welcoming the passengers onto our boat?

“At this point I’m going to turn the microphone
over to your talented and very single—I mean lovely—tour guide, Ava.” Jack
handed the microphone over to me with a not-at-all subtle wink, and I switched
on the iPod, scowling at him. A cartoony sounding boat whistle rang out and
“Welcome to the Riverboat” began.

I had figured out early on that in order to be
a successful singing tour guide you had to wholeheartedly embrace the
cheesiness of “Welcome to the Riverboat,” which
was an overly peppy tune
that sounded like a kid’s song, lyrics that obnoxiously rhymed, and one part
that requires the guide to ask a passenger his or her name and sing it. 
If you weren’t confident enough to ham it up, you’d be overcome with
embarrassment and the whole thing would be a disaster.

I found some courage deep inside of me, calmed
a few of those butterflies in my gut, and belted out a great rendition of
“Welcome to the Riverboat.” I took the stairs to the upper deck only a few
lines into the song, not wanting to stay on the bottom and risk another look
from Nolan.

I returned to the bottom deck part way through
the tour, when I felt my nervousness had subsided a little. It was clear to me
that this was Nolan’s first trip through the Dells. He was constantly looking
out the window and seemed very interested in all the history and geology I was
sharing. As I continued the tour, I felt more and more comfortable, and I was
able to give one of the best tours of my life.

On the way back upstream, I granted the
tourists some time without commentary to sit back and enjoy the scenery. Some
imaginary voice inside me told me to go sit next to Nolan in the front row.
Somehow, as soon as I sat down, I felt an odd sense of calm wash over me.

“You’re a lucky lady,” he said. “I mean, because
you get to spend all day out here. I haven’t seen anything this beautiful
before.” He was staring out the window at the hundred-foot rock cliffs
surrounding him. “In Deforest, all we have are corn fields.” Without looking
back from the window he asked, “Are you from the area?”

“Yeah, my family and I have lived in the Dells
all my life. Actually, my dad’s ancestors moved here from England more than a
hundred years ago and his family
has
lived here ever
since. Tourists don’t believe that people actually live in the Dells, but just
beyond the main drag you’ll find a community of happy Midwestern folk simply
living their lives and trying to ignore the craziness a few blocks over. Every
summer season, when the tourists really began to arrive and we hear the police
sirens, helicopter tours, and carnival ride noises, my mother would say, ‘The
crazies are in town!’ ” 

I continued my story, even though he hadn’t
indicated he was actually interested in listening to me. “My sister and I spent
most of our summers pretending we were fish at the community pool, racing our
bikes around the block, or playing with the neighbor girls in our large
backyard. We were basically oblivious to the fifty thousand tourists that
inhabited our little town between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Every now and
then, however, my family used to play tourist. We’d put on our fanny packs and
walk downtown to check out what was new in the stores and attractions on
Broadway. It was a strange childhood, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

I stopped for a comment from Nolan, but he said
nothing and continued to stare at the scenery. Was he ignoring me? My opinion
of the company’s newest ticket agent just went downhill. Maybe this guy was a
complete jerk. I went on anyway.

“When I was fourteen I got a job working for
the Boat Tours. On the Upper Dells tour, the boat stops and you take a walking
tour through a rocky canyon called Witches Gulch, see a trained dog jump across
a chasm at Stand Rock, and then make an optional stop at Cold Water Canyon. I
was a walking tour guide at the Canyon and had a blast wasting my summer days
away with a few other fourteen-year-olds. A couple of years later, at sixteen,
the Canyon closed and I became one of the youngest boat guides to work for DBT.
I’ve spent every summer of the past four years educating and entertaining
thousands of tourists on my tour boats.”

I continued mostly for myself now, as I was
sure he was tuning me out, still staring out the window. “You know, I’ve fallen
in love with the Dells and the Wisconsin River. I think I’ve been up and down
this river over two thousand times, and every time I come back I see something
new. It’s so quiet and peaceful at times, and at others it’s full of speedboats
and jet skis and seems so exciting! It never gets old to me. I think that’s why
I love my job. Best summer job ever.”

I was looking down at the high school class
ring on my finger now, turning it with my other hand. Memories of a popular
girl who made the honor roll and dated the quarterback filled my head. Why
hadn’t college been what I expected? Lost in my thoughts, I forgot for a second
that Nolan was right next to me, but when I looked up, he was still staring out
the window. 

I just poured my heart out! Did he even hear a
word I said? I let out a frustrated sigh, hoping it was loud enough for Nolan
to catch my hint.

But he said nothing for what seemed like a few
minutes. It was a very awkward silence, and I couldn’t think of anything else
to say to fill the blank space between us. Right when I was about to get up,
disappointed, and join Jack at the wheel, I heard Nolan exhale loudly. 

“Now I know I’ve made the right decision.” He
finally turned from the window and I swear I saw something emotional behind his
eyes. “I had quite a time trying to decide if I should leave home and take this
job. But now I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

Perhaps I was all wrong about this guy.

“Welcome to the Dells, Nolan. Before long,
you’ll be in love.” I turned to look out the window and smiled. I had the most
incredible feeling of hope in my heart.

Almost a week later I was heading downriver on
my second to last tour of the day. I absent-mindedly stared down into the swirling,
brown water past the deck below my feet, but suddenly my sight went fuzzy. The
water seemed to
pixelate
into big, brown, blurry
squares. It really was a strange sight. I blinked rapidly and rubbed my eyes
until the peculiar view faded away.

What was that about?

A yawn escaped my throat. Perhaps I needed to
get more sleep.

I slowly dared to look back down at the water.
It looked normal and perfectly brown again. I hadn’t had any water for a while;
maybe I was dehydrated.

Funny how something
so
basic and natural as a river seemed so precious and beautiful to me when tens
of thousands of people took it for granted each day. Instead of discovering a
spectacular natural world full of rich history and Native American legend, most
visitors to the Dells were working on their tans at the
waterparks
or putting the pedal to the metal around the go-kart tracks. Tourism for the
boats had been on a severe downhill trend for the last few decades, and it
didn’t make much sense to me.

The golden summer sun was setting quietly
beneath the breathtaking rocky cliffs on the shoreline. Gently, warm breezes
blew through my brown hair as I stood gripping the microphone in my hands. I
waited for Jack to expertly swing the boat around so the tourists could get the
perfect vantage point of Hawk’s Beak.

“Our next point of interest was once featured
on the cover of
Time Magazine
. To find Hawk’s Beak, follow the
shoreline...” I spoke empty words as my mind drifted off. It was like I was on
autopilot. I could speak the sentences of my tour while thinking of something
else. I hadn’t been back on the job too long yet this summer, but years ago, my
boat tour had been ingrained in my mind like a rubber stamp. It was sheer
talent that, four years later, I could still give tours like the info was all
fresh and new. Then again, it was only early June, and the monotony of the job
tended to wear on guides by mid-August. Besides all of that, my mind seemed to
be off on tangents these days.

Near the end of the tour, I stood in the tiny
back closet, quickly calculating the number of guidebooks I had just sold.

God, it’s suffocating in here.

The tiny hole in the wall did not let in nearly
enough air to dry the sweat beading up on my bra line.

In order to insure that tour guides gave their very
best tour each and every time they took a trip downriver, the boat company
decided to pay their employees with commission from the sales of a guidebook.
This guidebook was fifteen pages of scenes from the Dells as well as old,
sepia-toned photos taken by H.H. Bennett more than a hundred years before.
There were pictures of Ho-Chunk leaders in full garb, lumbermen attempting to
ride their log rafts through the rapids of the narrows, and photos of
present-day tour boats. On the end of each page were copies of the photos in
postcard form, perfect for sending back to loved ones.

This seemed to be a good system for the guides,
as long as they had boats filled with passengers. Early in the season, on a
rainy day with only a few passengers to count on each boat, a guide could
feasibly walk away making only thirty dollars for an eight-hour shift. Then
again, in the middle of July when tourism was at its peak in the Dells, a guide
could easily rake in a hundred dollars or more a day.

A quick subtraction and then multiplication
problem in my head forced me to count the money in my hands.

Sweet, they matched.

I took out a small hunk of cash from my bulky
cargo shorts, folded in the new money, and then shoved the whole thing back in
my pocket.

I pushed open the door, breathing in the cool,
fresh river air, and made my way back up the aisle to the front to sit next to
Captain Jack, who was enjoying the wind flowing swiftly through the front
hatch.

“How’d we do?” Jack questioned me.

“We’re thirty-nine for five,” I said. Out of
the corner of my eye, I noticed a grimace on Jack’s face as I leaned over to
grab my yellow mini-notebook off the front counter. I noted the day’s numbers
and then assured him, “But it’s only June 9th.”

Jack sighed under his breath. “Yeah, I guess
you’re right.”

Selling thirty-nine souvenir picture books in
five trips was less than stellar by anyone’s standards—even for early June. We
sat through the rest of the ride upriver in silence.

My mind was not a bit quiet, though. It was
filled with questions about dreamy Nolan. It had been five days since I met him
on my boat that morning and I hadn’t seen him since. I figured he was training
with other ticket agents, but for all I knew, he had decided not to take the
job and headed back home to Deforest. I hoped not, though—I couldn’t seem to
shake his face from my mind, but unfortunately, I had no way of knowing if or
when I’d see Nolan again.

Jack interrupted my thoughts. “So what are your
plans for tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I replied. “Laura and I
might go catch a movie if she doesn’t have to work late. She’s probably The Owl
though.” I knew my sister would most likely have to take the last boat tour of
the night, and I’d be stuck at home with my parents, but I didn’t want to sound
lame.
“How about you?”

“I hear there’s a beer waiting for me down at
the Sand Bar.”

I shuddered at the thought of a dusty bottle
hanging out on the grungy bar of the local hideaway downtown. Not sure why the
tourists couldn’t find this place, neatly tucked half a block off of Broadway,
but most nights it was relatively void of Chicagoans and full of heartbroken
locals.

“Jack, there’s always a beer waiting for you
down at the Sand Bar,” I teased.

“Well, then that’s the right place for me.” A
few thoughts rolled around his head for a moment. “You
wanna
join me tonight?”

“Aw, no thanks.
You
know my parents would kill me if I was down at the bar.”

Jack replied with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Suit yourself.
More beer for me.”

After we cleaned up the boat, I parted ways
with Jack in the parking lot. Instead of hopping in my car and driving right
home, something made me drift towards the overlook set just off the almost
deserted parking lot. I sat down on one of the empty park benches facing the
dock and the power dam, and placed my backpack right next to me.

The summer sun set behind my back, shining down
over the steep cliff a few feet from my perch. A few of the gates on the
dam were open and I watched as huge gushes of water cascaded over the cement
walls. The soothing sounds coaxed me to close my eyes and take in a cleansing
breath of the summer air.

Everything about the river was home to me. I
hadn’t realized how much I missed the unique sights and sounds while I was at
college this past year, but a quiet moment of contentment next to my river set
my heart at peace. I sat happily on that bench for what must have been almost
ten minutes before I decided to go home and spend some time with my parents.

I stood, put on my heavy backpack, and turned
to leave, but something shiny and blue caught my eye about five feet down the
very steep hill in front of me. The beautiful, glittering object was hidden in
a nest of overgrown grass and it piqued my interest. It looked a lot like a
glowy
blue rock I had found in a box in my parents’
basement a few years ago. I had brought it up to my room, mesmerized by its odd
beauty. I had never seen anything like it before, until now.

I leaned far over the long wooden safety
barricade at my thighs, to get a better view. It looked as colorful as a little
gem, but was very large—almost the size of an egg. It looked like the one on
the shelf in my room, but this one was smaller.

Intent on the little blue rock, I swung my legs
over the wooden fence, gripped the barricade with my left hand, and leaned down
the steep hill, my right arm stretched out. My fingers were only a few inches
from the gem, but the hill was so steep, and I knew I couldn’t let go of the
fence or I’d topple the sixty feet down the hill and into the deep and rushing
waters of the Wisconsin River below.

Right as I was about to give up on my
mysterious treasure, I decided to give it one more try. I reached again,
causing the contents of my backpack to shift unexpectedly, sending my balance
off-kilter. Surprised, I screamed and let go of the barricade in an attempt to
catch my balance. My life moved in slow motion for the next few seconds as I
fell forward, and I envisioned myself rolling down the rocky hill and crashing
into the brown water below.

Before I could blink, two strong arms grabbed
my backpack and yanked me on top of the barricade. I swung my legs over the
fence and stood, thankful to be on solid ground.

“Nolan!” I breathed as I looked up at my hero.
“You’re here...I mean, you saved me!”

Oh my God.

His eyes were sparkling blue, but filled with
worry. He dropped my hand quickly, but I could still feel the ghost of his
touch on my skin.

“What were you doing? You could have fallen
down that hill!”

He was mad at me. I didn’t want him to be mad
at me.

“I...I saw something shiny.” Why did that sound
so stupid when I said it out loud?

I looked over the hill, but my little blue orb
was nowhere to be found. In my panic, I must have sent some loose rocks into
the path of the beautiful treasure, sending it forever to the bottom of the
deep river. 

I turned back to Nolan. “How did...? Where did
you...?” I couldn’t form a sentence.

He started to back up a few steps. “I’m glad
you’re okay. I’ve
gotta
head to the Boat office,” he
said, pointing up the road. Then his frown turned to a smile. “Take care of
yourself, Ava. I’d like to see you around here again.”

No. Don’t go.

Then he winked at me and left before I could
crack out of my stunned silence.

That beautiful man just saved my life.