The Carrier (The Carrier Series Book 1) by Diana Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

been off the map for almost fifteen
years, Kate,” my father said. “We have to ask ourselves—why now?”
    “I haven’t got a clue, but I have a bad feeling
about this.” Mom sounded worried, and I had no idea what they were talking
about. “George. Please don’t go,” she said.
    “I’m sorry, honey, but I have to.” Dad lowered
his voice and said something I couldn’t hear.
    “How can you be so sure?” Mom asked.
    “This is our family we’re talking about. I told
you all those years ago, and I still hold firm on this—I will not risk my
family’s safety.”
    My mother let out a loud sigh of disapproval. “Fine. I’ll support you if that’s what you want.” Mom walked
away from the conversation, and I heard my father grunt softly.
    What was that about?

Chapter
Six
    Jack asked for a few extra days off. “Some
family thing up North,” he told me the day before. So I was stuck with awful
Captain Dean. Dean was a very tall man with square shoulders, graying hair, and
boxy, oversized glasses. He somehow reminded me of a bald eagle. He was also a
schoolteacher, although I could not imagine him teaching any children, as one
look from his rigid, tight face would scare any child. It sent chills down my
spine, and I was nineteen years old for goodness sake.
    I also believed Dean suffered from OCD. He
expected his guide to be at work forty-five minutes early to wash the windows
with a specific formula he made himself, and to “wipe it off in a clockwise
direction,” using only a cotton blend towel. After that, each life vest belt
had to be checked and neatly placed in straight rows behind the chairs on the
bottom deck. These were chores none of the other crews did. Well, at least not
regularly.
    I carefully walked aboard that morning and made
my way to the front of the boat to deposit my workbag. A roll of paper towels
and a bottle of Windex were sitting suggestively on the guide’s side of the
dash. I sighed and got to work wiping down the chairs on the bottom deck while
Dean was busy with the windows in the back.
    He cordially greeted me good morning and then
informed me that we only had thirty minutes before our first tour, and I should
make sure the garbage cans on the top and back deck were wiped down. After I
had completed all the random and completely useless jobs he required me to do,
I decided to hit the restroom before our first trip.
    Dean made quite a few remarks of “positive
criticism” on each of my first two tours and only asked me to wipe down the
rails on the upper deck twice that day. As if working with crazy Captain Dean
wasn’t enough, Nolan was stationed at an uptown booth, so I couldn’t even spend
my breaks with him.
    One trip, on the way back up river, I tried to
strike up a conversation with Dean about teaching. But I soon realized it was a
mistake, as Dean turned out to be very uninspired in
the classroom and didn’t like his job much at all. As he jabbered on about the
politics of his district, I daydreamed about my not so stellar first year at
UWSP.
    “You’ll have to work harder to prepare yourself
for the next exam, Miss Gardner,” my History professor had told me as she
handed back my test. A large F was written in red ink on the top of my
paper. The sight of it stopped my heart for what felt like a full thirty
seconds. It was my first F on a test. Ever.
    I slipped the test into my backpack with
shaking hands.
    “I lead a study group that meets every Thursday
evening on the second floor of the library. I suggest you attend.”
    “Thanks,” I muttered as I got up from my chair.
I held back my tears until I was clear of the crowd leaving the classroom. I
craved my mother’s arms to hold me and for her to tell me it would be okay.
College was a lonely place—so many people and no one familiar enough to cry to.
I wandered the campus for an hour, wondering what I was doing there. Maybe
college wasn’t the place for me. But what else was I to do with my life?
    Finally