by Peggy Webb
“You’ll be leaving Atlanta in a few days?”
“Yes. As soon as I get my gear together and we get the film crew assembled.”
“I could find someone to cover here for me. I could come to Atlanta and see you off.”
“I’d rather say goodbye to you here, Emily. I want to remember you standing in the sunshine in the middle of the woods.”
“I suppose this is easier. For both of us.”
“Nothing about this is easy. I want you to know that.”
He held her so close she could feel the rhythm of his heart against hers. She took several deep breaths, willing her heart to beat in perfect cadence with his. It was a small thing, probably silly, but she liked the idea of their hearts beating as one.
“I’ll miss you, Jake. I’m missing you already.”
He didn’t reply, but she didn’t need words. She could feel his yearning and his anguish.
If they kept on like this, she’d be crying in less than a minute, and that wouldn’t do. She was absolutely, positively not going to cry when Jake left her. After all, he was coming back. Tears at this simple leave-taking would mark her as weak, and she wasn’t a weak woman.
“I’ll try to call you while I’m gone.”
She knew what that meant. Dealing with overseas calls from remote places was frustrating at best. And once he was on the mountain, he’d have to be patched through, which could be a nightmare.
“As much as I’d love to hear from you, that’s not necessary, Jake. Besides, I spend most of my time in the woods. I’d hate for you to go to all that trouble and then not even find me home.”
He laughed. “I think I’m dreaming. Are you real?”
“I’m real. If you don’t believe it, pinch me.”
“I already did that.”
“Oh, yeah. And I liked it. Fact is, I like everything you do.”
“Everything?”
“Every little thing.”
“You think you know me pretty well, huh?”
“Inside out. Top to bottom. Even that cute mole on your—”
“Don’t say it, Em.”
How easily they’d slipped into lighthearted banter. Just like her parents.
“Okay.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
His eyes darkened, and he crushed her against his chest and buried his face in her hair.
“Ahhh, Em.” They stayed that way for a long while, swaying together, and then Jake pulled back. “If I don’t leave now I never will.”
He picked up his suitcase and headed to his car. Turn back, turn back, she silently willed him. And when he did he was smiling.
“So long, Em. See you soon.”
“Yes. Soon. Bye, Jake.”
She lifted her hand, and was still smiling and waving when he rounded the curve and drove out of sight.
“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered.
There was a message from James Reeves waiting on Jake’s answering machine when he got home. “Jake, call me. Urgent.”
James was not the type to call a thing urgent unless it was. Jake could think of only two possibilities: somehow the whole IMAX deal had fallen through, or he’d decided that Jake wasn’t the one he wanted to film, after all.
Jake set down his bag and picked up the phone.
“James, what’s up?”
“It’s Clayborn. He’s down with pneumonia. There’s no way he’s going to recover in time to do this film.”
“He’s sure about that?”
“Positive. It’s in both his lungs. By the time he’s out of the house, we’d be contending with the rainy season. Even then, he’d be too weak to make the climb.”
Jake felt almost relieved. What in the devil was wrong with him? He’d always been eager for a climb, always been chomping at the bit for the next challenge.
It wasn’t Emily, as much as he was connected to her. No, it was something else. Instincts kicking in. But why?
“Then the shoot’s off?”
“No. I want Michael Westmoreland.”
“He’s retired.”
“I know that. I also know how much he likes and respects you. If you call and ask, he’ll do it.”
“I won’t do that. I also respect him. He’s made his decision to retire, and that’s good enough for me.”
“Just tell him about the film. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Our chances are better if you do it. Besides, he was my first choice all along. You know this will be a better film with him at the helm.”
James was right. Michael’s work was unquestionably the best. He would make all of them look brilliant.
“Look, Jake…I’m not asking you to beg the man. Just tell him the situation and leave it open for him to step in if he wants to. His choice.”
“Fair enough. But if he says no, I don’t intend to pursue it.”
“Thanks, Jake. That’s all I ask.”
Jake paced, thinking. Then he went into the kitchen, poured himself a drink and sat at the window of his apartment looking out at the darkening sky, still pondering his dilemma.
One thing was certain. There was no way he would call Jake Westmoreland without first talking to his daughter.
Emily was in the kitchen warming up a bowl of soup when Jake called. The sound of his voice thrilled her all the way down to her toes.
“Hello, Em. How are you?”
“Great. Now that I’m talking to you.”
She twirled the phone cord around her fingers and smiled.
“How was your trip home?”
“Good. A little bumpy over Alabama, but I made it.”
Small talk. But oh, it was wonderful because it was with Jake. He could read the back of cereal boxes to her and she would be enthralled. Because it was him. And because she loved him.
Nothing is insignificant about the person you love.
“How was your day, Em?”
“After you left I took Gwendolyn on that little walk we talked about, but we didn’t see any male skunk suitors.”
“That’s too bad.”
“I don’t know. I’m getting used to her. I’d miss the little critter if she left… I miss you.”
“Already?” She loved the way he laughed.
“Yes. I was missing you before you were even out of sight.”
“I miss you too, Em.”
She could hear him clearing his throat, as if he were nervous. Maybe she should steer away from that kind of talk. Especially since they were several hundred miles apart, and neither of them could do anything about all this missing you business.
“So, you’ll be leaving in a few days?”
“There’s a hitch in plans. Our filmmaker is sick and can’t go.”
“What a shame. Can you get somebody else?”
Jake was quiet for so long Emily thought they’d lost the connection.
“James wants me to call your father, but I won’t do that if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t think he’ll go.”
“Neither do I.”
“Still, he’s always made his own decisions. I wouldn’t presume to do that for him.”
“I’ll call him, then, but I want you to know I won’t use any forms of persuasion on him.”
“You can use your many delightful forms of persuasion on me any time you want,” she said, and the conversation took a turn that left her panting…and not from the heat of the stove.
Chapter Eleven
May 20, 2001
Michael flew to Atlanta today to join the IMAX crew that will film on Everest. After Jake called, Michael said to me, “Anne, I won’t go if you tell me not to.”
God knows, I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to scream it. I wanted to shout the house down. I wanted to cry and roll on the floor kicking. But I’ve never told Michael no.
And I never will.
That’s not the kind of relationship we have. That wasn’t part of the bargain.
&
nbsp; He’s never denied me anything I’ve set my mind on, and I’ve never denied him. We have too much respect for each other.
“An IMAX film. And with Jake. It’s too good to resist, angel.”
That’s what Michael told me over dinner—fried cat-fish fillets, which he knows good and well I can’t resist, in spite of the fact that every bite I eat settles on my hips. Combine that kind of soul food with candlelight and real linen napkins, and I’m a sucker for anything he says or does.
I am, anyhow. Michael doesn’t need fancy trappings to woo and win me. All he needs is his glorious self.
God, I miss him. How will I endure another lonely stretch of days until I see him again?
I’ll just have to. That’s all.
“I’ll be back before you know it, darling,” he said when he kissed me goodbye at the airport. “And then we’ll go to that tropical paradise you’ve been talking about.”
He said some other deliciously bawdy things about not getting a suntan because the sun didn’t shine in the bedroom even in a tropical paradise, and I told him I would be at the airport with bells on when he returned.
Bells on and airline tickets to Hawaii in my hand.
Meanwhile I’m not even going to think about Everest. I’m not going to look at a single map. I’m not going to listen to a single weather report from the other side of the world.
I’m going to sit on the verandah sipping mint juleps while I plan our itinerary for the Hawaiian islands.
Chapter Twelve
Jake was always astonished at the power of the Himalayas to move him. From the Tibetan side the summit of Everest rose in solitary splendor, a giant totally isolated from the nearby peaks visible on the Nepal side. As he stood in the darkness looking up at the face, he felt rather than saw the person who joined him. Michael Westmoreland.
He should have known a man with such reverence for the mountains would not miss the most spectacular, most spiritual moment of the day—the dawn when nothing stirs, not even a breath of air, when the whole world stands in absolute stillness waiting for the mighty mountain to come alive.
They didn’t speak. They merely stood side by side in awed silence, waiting for the sunrise. It hit the summit first, blazing across that lofty peak like fire. On the left, Lhotse’s rim lit up, then the granite of Makalu began to glow. Light rolled down the mountain like a river of flame, its rose and gold tongues licking along the lesser peaks as it made its way to camp.
Neither Jake nor Michael spoke of the beauty of the sunrise. It was danger they watched, for everywhere the sun touched, moisture loosened and trickled. Small whispers at first, and then a distant rumbling that turned to the thunder of avalanches.
They roared and tumbled in the path of the sun, a stark and vivid reminder of the power of the mountain. And when the sustained roar died to an occasional growl, Jake said a silent prayer of thanks that the dangerous activity was far away from their camp.
As the first rays of sun touched the tents where their crew lay sleeping, Michael turned to him and smiled.
“What do you say we wake up these sleepyheads and get to work?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.”
They would be climbing the mountain siege-style, depending on manpower and ropes to set up a series of fixed camps from which they would operate. If there was any mountain that demanded siege, it was Everest, for she was the ultimate challenge, the climber’s dream…and his nightmare.
Jake glanced at Emily’s dad and wondered for the forty-seventh time about the wisdom of asking him to come back to Everest. Michael had been quick to accept the invitation and seemed happy to be back. He looked fit and trim, equal to the task. And still Jake wondered.
Would Michael Westmoreland have come back to Everest if he hadn’t been the one asking?
“I can guess what you’re thinking, Jake. You’re wondering what brought this old man back to the mountain.”
Jake didn’t try to deny it.
“Not in so many words.”
Michael lifted his face toward the summit. “Hear that, Jake? It’s a siren song. I guess I’ll always want to come back.”
“But will you? Would you be here if I hadn’t asked?”
“The answer to your first question is no, I won’t be back. I can’t do that to Anne. The answer to your second is I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.”
“No, I guess we never will.”
Michael clapped his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “We’re here. That’s all that matters. That and telling the best damned story we can with the camera.”
When Emily pulled up at Belle Rose unannounced, she told herself she was surprising her mother. The fact was, she was lonesome. For the first time since she’d been living in the woods by herself, she was lonesome. And it all had to do with Jake.
She missed him so much her teeth hurt. Her skin felt tight, as if she’d grown too big for it. And she’d developed insomnia, besides.
Her mother spotted her from the front porch and raced down the steps to meet her, arms wide open.
“Emily, what a wonderful surprise.”
For an instant she thought of making up some lighthearted and witty story on the spot, but she was feeling neither lighthearted nor witty, and invention was not her strong suit. Besides, she could never fool Anne.
“I’m so lonesome I could die,” she said.
“Me, too.” Anne giggled. “Hey, remember that song.”
Anne burst into an awful rendition of the country-and-western ballad. On purpose, because Anne Beaufort Westmoreland was a trained musician and knew her way around a ballad as well as she knew her way around a baby grand.
Emily joined in, and she didn’t have to sound awful by design. Singing off-key came naturally to her, for musical talent was another of her mother’s better qualities she’d failed to inherit.
By the time they got to the house, they were laughing so hard they had to cling to each other to stand up straight. Anne snatched some tissues from a box in the kitchen, which was the room they always gravitated to first.
Anne was already digging out pots. “How does popcorn sound to you?”
“With butter on top and Hershey’s bars on the side?”
“What else? Soul food. Good for what ails us.”
Emily perched on a stool while Anne poured oil into the popcorn pan.
“What ails us, Mother? I thought I was this independent woman who didn’t want a man in my life and who certainly didn’t need one.”
“You are an independent woman, my dear. And don’t you forget that.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“You didn’t need just any man, Emily. You still don’t. But a special man, a soul mate…that’s a different story. And therein lies the difference between the mundane and pure magic.”
Anne poured kernels of corn into sizzling grease, and as they bloomed, the smell filled the kitchen, Emily thought of being at the circus and believing in magic.
She’d been six, instead of twenty-four. Still, the seeds of magic had lain dormant all those years. It had taken only one glimpse of Jake to make them spring to life.
As the rising corn began to lift the lid off the pan, Emily melted the butter. They poured their soul food into an enormous bowl, then went onto the west verandah where they could watch the sunset while they licked butter off their fingers.
“What do you suppose they’re doing now?” Emily asked.
“They should be close to the summit by now. Getting ready to wrap up the film and come home.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. I always keep track, Emily, whether I mean to or not. Something deep down inside me knows.”
Here at last was a trait Emily would inherit from her mother. Instinctively she knew that. As the weeks turned into months and the months to years, she would develop some internal clock that told her exactly when Jake would be coming home.
That was how her mother had kept track
, and that was how Emily would. She wouldn’t need to mark off days on the calendar. She wouldn’t need to watch the clock. She would simply know.
“I can hardly wait,” she said.
“Neither can I.”
They dipped their hands into the bowl and exchanged a soft, secret smile.
As the IMAX team made progress up the mountain, Jake understood why Michael was considered the best high-altitude filmmaker in the business. His keen cinematic eye combined with his ability as a climber kept the shoot moving along at a steady pace. There was no time wasted on filming useless footage. Michael had a vision that swept them all toward the summit.
Jake was outside early the morning they were to gain the summit, and as usual, Michael was already there staring up at the peak.
Jake stood quietly beside him while the sun lit the face of the mountain.
“Awesome, isn’t it,” Jake said.
“Yes. People who have never seen this wonder why we climb. What do you tell them when they ask, Jake?”
Jake had reached the summit ten times. Today would be the eleventh. And each time he stood more than 29,000 feet above the rest of the world, he was filled with a sense of hope unlike any he’d ever experienced. A sense of rebirth and renewal. An overflowing of passion for life.
He never felt he’d conquered the mountain, but that he’d joined it, become one with nature. Standing on the summit of Everest was the closet thing he knew to understanding and spiritual awakening.
“I tell them that gaining the summit is a symbol of hope and a celebration of the human spirit.”
Michael put his hand on Jake’s shoulder and squeezed. “So do I,” he said. “So do I.”
They gained the summit in spite of the fact that they’d lost their assistant cameraman to high-altitude sickness. Danny Clemmons had departed for base camp the day before. Following the route used by Sir Edmund Hillary and the Sherpa Tenzing Norgay, they pushed through the mists without him until they finally emerged at the highest peak in the Himalayas.
Not even the sound of Michael’s camera whirring could take away Jake’s feeling that he was alone on the top of the world.
His face deeply burned from snow and sun, his emotions raw, his body pushed to its limits, Jake stood there, awed and exhilarated. The first thing he would do when he got back home was share his feelings with Emily. She would understand. He knew that instinctively.
