The younger officer pointed out the door of the office. "See that couple over there by the banner? They might be able to help you."
Robbie and Laura walked over to a large blue banner with the words 'Welcome Home' crocheted onto it in white. Sitting beneath it was an elderly couple at a table with a coffee maker and several boxes.
Unsure of what to say, they stood silently as the man and woman started pouring coffee and opening a box.
"Here you go dear. You look like you need this." She handed Laura a cup of coffee while the man was taking two small chocolate cakes out of a box.
Perplexed, all Laura could say was "thank-you".
Robbie was curious, and hungry. "What are these?"
"Whoopie Pies; the official dessert of the state of Maine." The man was wearing a dark blue baseball style cap with the words 'United States Navy-USS Enterprise-Pacific Theatre' embroidered in gold.
Robbie picked up the offered treat, two pieces of chocolate cake with white frosting in the middle and took a bite. "Mmm, very good."
Laura almost laughed out loud. Here they were stranded God knows where and Robbie was indulging his sweet tooth.
The woman smiled. Men were the same all over the world. "Are you lost? Maybe we can help."
Their names were Howard and Marge, married for more than 60 years. They volunteered for a group called Welcome Home. Marge explained that many of the planes carrying U.S. soldiers returning from active military duty stopped at this airport. Welcome Home was comprised of volunteers who arranged to meet every plane and greet and thank each returning serviceman and woman. They offered coffee, snacks, advice, hugs, and listening ears to the soldiers while they waited for the next leg of their journeys home.
Howard was glad to have someone to talk to. "The plane that was supposed to come today has been delayed in Germany because of bad weather. That's the third time it's happened this month. They've been having crazy weather over across this summer." His eyes displayed a lifetime of experience as he studied Robbie and Laura. "You're nice folks, I can tell."
Before they knew it, Robbie and Laura were sharing coffee and whoopie pies (Robbie's third) with Howard and Marge, telling them the whole story of their upcoming nuptials and Laura's mistaken identity problem.
Howard was a retired government employee having gone right into civil service after his discharge from the navy several decades ago. "It's the same with every government. The right hand doesn't always know what the left hand is doing. He seemed to accept the bizarre circumstance that Laura was allowed to be in Canada but not permitted to enter it. With Marge's help he mapped out a plan for Robbie and Laura.
They would travel to Boston, Massachusetts, the closest American city with a Canadian Consulate General and try to prove Laura's identity there. Howard and Marge gave them a ride to the nearby town of Moose Creek, population 987, where there was one filling station whose owner had a couple of rugged vehicles from a national car rental company. Robbie and Laura weren't the first people to be stranded at the northernmost international airport in the contiguous United States of America. They could return the car at Logan Airport in Boston and fly home from there.
After thanking Howard and Marge for their help and the lunch Marge insisted on packing for them, Robbie and Laura headed south on State Route 161. They drove through the seemingly out of place towns of Stockholm and New Sweden then they came to an intersection with signs indicating the roads to Poland, Paris, Norway, and Sweden (not to be confused with New Sweden). Both sides of the road were lined with acres of green leafy plants in neat hilly rows.
Robbie asked Laura, "What are those?"
She did not need to consult the Maine guide book provided by Marge. "Potatoes, as far as the eye can see."
"I thought they grew potatoes in Idaho."
"According to this book, Idaho produces more potatoes but Maine claims theirs taste better, due to being an ocean bordering state and having natural sea salt in the soil."
"You could get a job in the tourism office, if they have one in the middle of nowhere."
"As we go farther south Robbie, we'll see some actual cities. Portland has a population of 66,000. We should be there in about 5 hours."
"I look forward to getting back to civilization."
" It's nice here Robbie, very peaceful."
"A little too peaceful, if you ask me."
Seemingly out of nowhere a small park appeared and they stopped for a late lunch, enjoying Marge's ham sandwiches and lemonade at a picnic table shaded by pine trees. Laura cautiously entered what looked like an outhouse in a western movie, and was pleasantly surprised to find it clean and smelling like cedar.
They drove on in silence for another hour as the afternoon sun started to fade. They both wondered if Howard's plan was the right one or were they just taking another detour on the way to their wedding. Robbie noticed that Laura had fallen asleep. Soon they would have to find somewhere to stop for the night. All of a sudden Robbie slammed on the brakes and their Subaru Forrester came to a halt on the side of the road.
Laura was jolted awake. "Robbie, what's the matter? Why are we stopping?"
"I thought I saw a body."
"Are you sure it's not a log?"
"Ha Ha, very funny." Robbie got out of the car and stood at the edge of a row of potato plants.
Laura decided he was serious and joined him.
Robbie pointed out towards the horizon. "Look!"
"Okay, I see it."
"Well?"
"You're not on duty here, no reason for you to investigate."
"Maybe not, but you...well isn't there some law that says doctors must help. That chap out there may need medical attention."
"I suspect he needs more than that."
"C'mon then, let's go." He took her hand as they made their way along the hills of potatoes.
As they got closer, details of the object of Robbie's interest came into view, torn jeans, a dangling shoe, a black and gold sports jersey, and on his head, a hockey helmet.
"What the?" Robbie had never seen a body like that before.
"I believe they call them scarecrows, Robbie." Laura was quite amused by Robbie's body that was not a log.
"You knew, didn't you, from the road, that's what this was."
"I had my suspicions."
Robbie looked over the body. "I thought scarecrows were supposed to be wearing flannel shirts and straw hats."
Laura turned to Robbie and reached up to put her arms around his neck. "In Kansas perhaps, not in Maine apparently."
He leaned down to kiss her. Neither heard the approaching footsteps coming up behind them.
"Evening."
The deep voice got their attention. Robbie and Laura broke apart, embarrassed to be observed by a stranger wearing a blue shirt and trousers, the uniform of the Maine State Police. His nametag said 'Wilder'.
Laura observed the officer who stood more than a head taller than Robbie and was built like Angus Rawbone. He had the large calloused hands of a day labourer. Tinted sunglasses, unnecessary with the fading sun, hid his eyes. Robbie noticed the large gun in his holster and no sign of a vehicle or a partner. Backup for this officer must be more than an hour away.
Laura, worried that she was the target of his interest, apologized for their trespassing in the potato field.
"We don't arrest people here for trespassing lady. There's no money in the corrections budget for that. I'm just checking to make sure you are not bothering Bobby."
"Bobby?"
He pointed at the scarecrow. "Yup, Bobby Orr, the greatest hockey defenseman of all time, played 10 seasons for the Boston Bruins."
"You're not looking for Laura Hobson?"
"Nope, should I be?" He surveyed Robbie and Laura and made a few assumptions. "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Who is?" Robbie immediately regretted his flippancy. He introduced himself and Laura and produced his identity card.
"Oxford police, huh?" Still a bit suspicious of the pair, Wilder countered with identification of his own, showing them that he was Lieutenant Jacob Wilder of the Maine State Police, Rural Crimes Unit. "And you are Laura Hobson?" Wilder knew all about the infamous Laura Hobson from Canada.
Laura nodded and produced her passport.
Lt. Wilder asked them to wait while he called to make sure there were not any outstanding warrants on this Laura Hobson. He kept his eye on them as he walked to his marked police cruiser hidden behind their rented Subaru. If they ran, he would know they were guilty of something. Using the two way radio in his car, he called into the dispatch office looking for information. He requested they find a specific person, someone he hoped would know the two of them. It turned out that it is a small world, the one person he knew in England was the perfect source of information.