Alaskan Summer by Marilou Flinkman Page A

phone rang.
    “Did I wake you?” Ryan asked.
    “No. When the phone rang, I was afraid it was the couple I left at the hotel.”
    “Just me. How did you come to find those people?”
    “I saw them standing on the dock and went to see if I could help.”
    “You do have a way of finding the lost. Anyway, the airlines just called and the Harrises have a reservation on the tomorrow afternoon flight.”
    “Are you still at the office?” she asked in alarm. His low laugh stirred a new feeling in her heart.
    “The airlines called me at home. Sorry if I bothered you.”
    “No bother. I was worried about you working so late.”
    “Thanks for caring. See you in the morning.”
    ❧
    Ryan put the phone down. That girl can bring sunshine to the darkest gloom. Even her voice sparkles. And she’s worried about how late I worked. Always concerned about others. . .
    He picked up the box he had taken out of the spare bedroom. He had found the hymnbook he wanted. He also picked up his Bible. “I won this for perfect attendance,” he muttered. He knew he didn’t deserve it; he just went with Mom, and she had to be there every week to play the hymns. He left the Bible on the living room table and put the hymnal on the small organ that stood against the wall. He and his mother had both cried when she sold the baby grand. But she had left him the organ.
    Sitting down and turning on the instrument, Ryan flipped pages and played some of the hymns his mother used to play. His mind tossed out memories of his boyhood. The house was always full of music. Mom either practiced the piano or gave lessons, or the stereo sent music wafting throughout the house. Mom got lost in her music after Dad died. He recalled her joy after she met Harvey. “Why did I dislike him?” Ryan asked himself.
    Maybe you were jealous when she shared her love of music with someone besides you, his conscience nagged.
    “Give your bitterness to Jesus.” Laurette’s voice echoed in his mind. He silently read the words to the music his fingers produced. “Sin sick and sorrow worn, whom Christ doth heal.”
    “I wasn’t fair to Mom. She found happiness and I tried to stand in her way.”
    The commandment to honor one’s parents flashed through his mind. “I’m full of sin. Could Christ heal me?”
    Absently he turned the organ off, walked back to the table, and picked up the Bible. “I don’t even know where to start.” He let the book fall open and started reading; Psalm 25:7 caught his eye. He read it to himself twice, then read it aloud.
    “ ‘Remember not the sins of my youth, nor my transgressions: according to thy mercy remember thou me for thy goodness’ sake, O Lord.’ Hmm. Is the psalmist asking God to remember him in love, not for his past sins?”
    The words stayed with Ryan as he put the Bible back on the table before he carried the box back to the spare room closet. “That isn’t how I’ve been remembering my mom,” he admitted, wondering what Laurette would say about that.
    Ryan went to the phone, pausing briefly before calling Tyler at home. He respected Tyler and knew the man would give him a straight answer. Ryan grinned. Then Tyler would probably tell him to double check with his pastor, just to be sure.
    ❧
    The next morning, the office was even more hectic than usual. Tyler had gone to sort out a freight problem. Laurette left a message that she had gone to the Dockside Hotel to check on the Harrises and assure them she would take them to the airport in the afternoon. Thoughts of trying to talk to Rette had vanished from Ryan’s mind.
    “You have to take this call,” Debbie told him.
    Ryan listened to the request and went numb. His mind refused to work. “How many tanks do you need?” he asked. “I’ll see what I can do and get back to you.” He put the phone down and watched Laurette come in the door and head for the coffeepot.
    “You look like you lost your last friend,” she commented, offering to fill his