Angie stood at the railing of the ferry, watching the approach to her destination, Hope Island.  Her suitcase was next to her, and strung over her shoulders was a knapsack carrying her laptop and supplies.  She pushed a strand of hair behind one ear absently, lost in her thoughts.
 
“So, is this your first trip to Hope Island?” a man’s voice said next to her, and she turned to see a priest leaning against the railing right next to her.
 
“Yeh, it is,” she said lamely, feeling slightly ashamed not only of her response but that she hadn’t even noticed him stand next to her.  She took in his white hair that was thinning along the top, the full beard, and more importantly, his height, which wasn’t that much taller than herself, then relaxed.  She had an enemy that was a master of disguise, but he was over six foot, and this man wasn’t  near that height.
 
“Thought so.  Visiting relatives, perhaps?”  the priest continued.
 
“No, a friend, actually,” Angie replied, and saw that they were now close enough to actually make out the dock and see figures standing there, though not yet close enough to see faces.  She turned her attention to the view, straining to see if she could tell which one was Callie Pender.
 
“Where are my manners,” the priest said, and Angie turned her attention back to him, knowing full well she had been the one to be impolite.  “I’m Father Mac,” he told her,  putting out his right hand.
 
“Angie Ramirez,” she returned, shaking his hand as she spoke.  Her gaze went back to their approach, though, but she quickly pulled it away and focused on the priest.
 
“We have a little time before we dock,” he told her, smiling.  “I gather you’ll be glad to be off this boat?”
 
It took her a few seconds to realize he was hinting that she was seasick, but when she realized it she said, “Oh, no, not that.  It’s just that this friend I’m meeting - well, I met her on the Internet.  She emailed me a picture, and I keep thinking I should have printed it out.  I just don’t know what I should do if we don’t recognize each other, or if she’s late, or can’t come pick me up, or ...”  she stopped suddenly, realizing she was babbling, and feeling ashamed for sounding so helpless.
 
He laughed, but it was a gentle sound.  “No offense, Miss Ramirez,” he started, and she quickly corrected him with, “Angie.  Call me Angie, Father.”
 
“Of course, provided you call me Father Mac and not just Father.  Deal?”  He stuck out his hand again, and she shook it again, this time with some real feeling attached to it.  Though she had just met the priest, she was already taking a liking to him.  “Deal,” she promised.
 
“As I was saying, Angie, it’s obvious you know nothing about Hope Island and the people who live here.  Now this friend of yours has to be Callie Pender, am I correct?”  Angie’s startled look was confirmation enough.
 
“As I thought.  Well, you will know her as the only one with a pencil and notepad.  She’ll know you as the only stranger getting off this ferry.  We’re a small community, less than 2,000 people living here, so every one knows every one else, and everyone else’s business more times than not, as well.  I take it you’re from some big city, like Los Angeles, maybe?”
 
“New York,” Angie admitted.  “How did you know I’m meeting Callie?”
 
“I suppose I shouldn’t be telling tales, but Callie is one of the few people on the island who has a computer and knows how to use it.  I just couldn’t imagine anyone else inviting a total stranger, from New York you said?”  and Angie nodded agreement, “well, from anywhere, actually, to come visit us.  Leave it to Callie to invent her own news, though; you do know she runs our local newspaper, don’t you?”
 
“She said she was a reporter,” Angie stated, surprised.  Runs the paper as well, she thought, amazed that her friend hadn’t mentioned that little detail.
 
“Ah yes, well that is how Callie perceives herself, just a reporter.  Never mind that she’s also editor and copyboy, I suppose it’s copy person now ...”  It was Angie’s turn to laugh, for Father Mac’s expression at his own term correction was one of slight disgust.
 
“Well, well, we’re almost there,” the priest stated, and Angie turned her head to see the dock coming closer.  “I guess before we disembark I should warn you about Brian Brewster.”  At Angie’s look of concern, he hurried to add, “Not that Brian is someone to watch out for, oh no, he’s a good man, has the best interests of Hope Island and its people at heart.  He’s our Mayor, in fact, and makes it a point to personally welcome all visitors to the island, such visitors as we get, that is.”
 
Final approach was being made, and they were close enough to see some details of the various people waiting for the ferry to dock.  Father Mac pointed out two men standing at the pier.  “That’s Brian, the middle-aged man starting to bald.  Next to him is Nub Flanders, his assistant.  You’ll like Nub; he’s a simple man, but good hearted.”
 
“Simple?  As in retarded?” Angie asked.
 
“Oh no, just ... well, let’s say there will always be more the boy than the man behind Nub’s eyes, shall we?”
 
“Oh,”  Angie said, and she looked again at where the priest had pointed.  She could just make out the figures; standing with them was a woman who did seem to have pen and a notepad.  “Is that Callie with them?”  she asked the priest.
 
“Yes, that’s Callie Pender.  See, no problems.” “So I’m watching out for Brian because of ... why, again?”  Angie asked.
 
“Oh yes, that.  Sorry.  Seems to be my age creeping up on me.  Brian is the island’s only real estate agent.  For your entire stay he will try to talk you into buying some land, sending all your friends here, and even try to get you involved in his latest plan to turn our island into the tourist center of the world.  Just ignore it if you can, and have a good stay.”
 
“Typical real estate agent, huh?”
 
“Actually, no,” the priest said, then looked around to see if anyone else was close enough to hear.  The few passengers, however, were probably lining up since the dock was so close; they were alone.
 
“He’ll talk about making money at such things, but his goal isn’t to make money just for himself.  He truly wants what he believes to be best for the island.  He just thinks more money would solve all problems, and doesn’t realize that tourists are a problem all to themselves, and one our island doesn’t need.”  Then, after realizing all he said, he added, “Your self not included in this, of course.”  He smiled, but there was worry in his eyes that perhaps he had offended her in his statement.
 
Her smile was honest in its return.  “I think I understand what you meant, Father Mac.  They say if every tourist to visit the Rocky Mountains were to take home a pebble, we’d have a new Grand Canyon in a matter of years.  You’d like to avoid something like that, I guess.”
 
“Yes, yes, exactly,” he agreed, relief evident in his voice and expression.
 
The ferry docked and the gate was opened.  Angie grabbed her suitcase, and looked to see if Father Mac had any luggage.  It was then she noticed he was carrying a plastic shopping bag and nothing else.
 
“No luggage, Father Mac?”  she asked as they walked to their exit..
 
“Oh no, I just went to do a little shopping in the mainland.  Barnabas is a little fussy about his treats, and I can only get them at a shop in Seattle.”
 
“Barnabas?”  The gangway they walked along was wide enough for two, and so they disembarked side by side.
 
“My parrot.  You’ll have to come meet him, he’s quite a character.”
 
“So you live on Hope Island?”  Angie asked.
 
“Oh my, I am getting forgetful in my old age.  I didn’t mention that at all?”
 
Angie turned her head to assure him that this wasn’t a problem, to see a twinkle in his eye that belied his statement and let her know he was fully aware of what he had, or hadn’t, said.
 
“Angie?”   A dark haired woman, looking to be in her early twenties, hurried over, having called out as Angie had cleared the gangway and entered the pier.
 
“Callie?”  Angie asked, and Father Mac smiled.
 
“Well, now that you two have managed to find each other, I’ll be on my way.”
 
“Thank you, Father Mac, for everything,” Angie said to him.
 
“You’re most welcome, Angie Ramirez,” he replied, and hurried on his way.
 
“So, you’ve met Father Mac,” Callie began, but before she could say anything else,  the man Father Mac had warned her about made his move.
 
“As Mayor of this fine community, I would like to be the first to welcome you to Hope Island,” he stated pompously.
 
“You’re too late, Brian,” Callie said, “Father Mac beat you to it, and even I got here before you did.”  She gave Brian a look that made Angie think the next words from her friend’s mouth would be, “na na na na na”,  but Callie said nothing further, waiting for Brian to respond.
 
“Nub, take the lady’s bag,” Brian said to the young man behind him.  Nub quickly moved forward and reached for the suitcase.  Angie looked over to Callie, who in turn nodded agreement to the unspoken question.   Having her friend’s silent approval, she allowed Nub to take the suitcase from her, but her worried expression clearly showed her fear that she would never see it again.
 
Brian then put his hand out to shake hers, saying, “I am Mayor Brian Brewster, at your service, ready to do all I can to insure your stay here is both relaxing and enjoyable.  When you go home and your friends see how refreshed you are from the best vacation you’ve ever had, be sure to tell them Hope Island is the finest place to go to escape the stress and demands of ...”
 
“Knock it off, Brian, or her vacation’ll be over before she can even leave the pier.”
 
Angie looked from Brian to Callie and back to Brian.  She took his hand in hers and shook it, saying, “I’m only here for the weekend, but thank you.  I’m sure I’ll have a wonderful time.”
 
“You’re staying with me, Angie,” Callie told her.  “Come on, Nub, let’s go.”  Callie and Angie both looked to the young man, who was standing there so still, his eyes riveted on Angie’s face.  When he saw that she was looking back at him, he blushed, then took off his watch cap and bowed his head to her.
 
“At your service,” he said, and smiled.  Angie understood then what Father Mac had said, for this man’s expressions were the most honest she had ever seen in her life.  Innocent and childlike without a hint of naiveté or ignorance.  She smiled again; if her weekend was anything like the last half hour had been, she expected she would be doing a lot more of it, too, something she hadn’t done in almost a year.
 
Together they went off to walk to Callie’s place to get her settled in.