It Takes Two

No one had said anything about needing reservations. If they had, Abby Miller knew she wouldn't be sitting here now, near the end of a long line of cars waiting for the few remaining slots on the Matane-Baie-Comeau ferry. "Who'd have thought so many people wanted to get across the Saint Lawrence Seaway this time of year?" she said. In the back seat, Figgy pricked up her ears and made a low chuffing sound. "Go back to sleep, girl," Abby said. "There's no reason we should both be up at this ungodly hour." The small brown dog obligingly put her head back down on her front paws, sighed mightily and closed her eyes. Abby glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. According to the brochure of ferry schedules open on the passenger seat next to her, theFelipewas due to depart the docks at six-ten. Abby had arrived at the terminal fifteen minutes earlier, thinking that would give her more than enough time to purchase a ticket and board the ferry for the two-hour crossing. No such luck. She leaned back against the headrest and watched enviously as QuÉbec Maritime terminal staff directed the rapidly dwindling line of cars in thePassengers with Reservations Onlylane. TheFelipehad a capacity of six hundred cars, and Abby had tried to count the vehicles as they drove into the cavernous opening. But so many had boarded before she arrived that she soon gave up, knowing it was an exercise in futility. Next to the ferry brochure was her much read and well-creased road map, the route from her apartment in Andover, Massachusetts, to Tadoussac, QuÉbec, highlighted in bright red. The helpful agent at AAA had assured Abby the drive would be a scenic one, albeit long, and had been telling the truth. Abby had made a right turn out of her driveway early the previous morning and had driven north in a straight line ever since. About halfway through the trip, late yesterday afternoon, she had left the interstate for the more rural highways of northern Maine. By evening, she had cleared Canadian customs and crossed the border into New Brunswick, Canada, picked up the Trans-Canada Highway and entered the province of QuÉbec around midnight. So near and yet so far,Abby thought, looking out her windshield at the choppy waters of the Saint Lawrence. She sat up straighter as the last of the cars eased over the ramp between the dock and ferry. Abby could barely make out the ferry's darkened interior, but it looked like there could be enough room for all the cars in her lane. Her optimism, however, was premature. Just as she was keying her ignition back on, she watched in horror as the terminal workers switched their attention to the scores of big rigs, panel trucks and large flatbeds that had been idling in the lane to her left. When the last the of the trucks had been allowed on board,Abby saw the brake lights on the lead car in her lane flash. As if that were the signal, all the remaining cars roared to life and the line slowly inched forward. A terminal worker approached each car, handed the driver a slip of paper and then waved the vehicle on. The closer Abby got, the more convinced she became that she would have to make a reservation on the next available ferry-- eight hours later or drive miles and hours out of her way to QuÉbec City and the bridge. She was now so close to the ferry, it blocked out the sky. She watched as the car in front of her--a late-model Saab with two mountain bikes lashed to the back bumper--was waved aboard. The attendant approached her car, the coveted white boarding slips in his hand. Rolling down the window, Abby offered him what she hoped was her most engaging smile, as if charm alone could magically create a space for her. "Good morning," she said brightly to the young man, his QuÉbec Maritime Windbreaker zipped to his chin, the hood pulled low over his eyes against the raw wind wMichael, Joanne is the author of 'It Takes Two ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373781669 and ISBN 0373781660.