by Linda Hawley
When I stopped in front of worker stations during the tour, many of the employees looked up from what they were doing and took a short moment to greet me. They seemed like a friendly, kind-hearted people, though formal in the beginning.
After the tour, meetings followed, and we discussed the manufacturing challenges of the turbines. I brought up the planned inspections of the factory by an independent company and conveyed Edwin’s expectations of quality assurance.
“Miss Torgeson, would you please join me for an early dinner?” asked Zhang as we finished the last meeting.
“I would be honored, Mr. Zhang. I would like to use my car and driver, if you please.”
“As you wish,” he replied formally.
When we entered the restaurant, the hostess quickly recognized Zhang. She motioned quietly to another woman, who saw him and led us to our table. As we walked to the far side of the restaurant, I noticed many of the waiters glancing at Zhang and quickly standing a little straighter, heads a little higher. They bowed slightly as we passed. All of a sudden, a bustle began among the workers, treating him as though he were a rock star.
What’s that about?
As I passed the enormous fish tank filled with live exotics, I felt a little nauseous to realize that some of the patrons there would be eating the fish in the tank that very evening. I swallowed hard.
At least two-thirds of all large predator fish—cod, bluefin tuna, swordfish, and grouper—in the ocean were overfished and endangered. Chinese fishermen had to go farther and deeper to catch enough fish to satisfy Chinese aquatic appetites. Since there were so few large fish, the Chinese had replaced them with exotics, taking them from the reefs.
It was a long dinner. I was thankful for the late breakfast I’d eaten before Chow brought me to the factory. Even though Zhang ordered several exotics, I focused on discussing business with him, so that I could avoid eating them. I knew I’d have to try a few samples to avoid insulting him, but after the obligatory taste, I mostly just rearranged the food on my plate to make it look as though I was eating. In the restaurant atmosphere, Zhang relaxed and gave me additional background information regarding the turbine component his company was manufacturing. I made several mental notes that would assist me in writing the technical manual more accurately.
“Mr. Zhang, thank you for dinner,” I said during a break in the conversation. “I’m suffering from a bit of jet lag, which is affecting my appetite. As you know, I just flew in from Seattle last night.”
“Miss Torgeson, the staff here can help you,” Zhang replied fervently as he signaled urgently to the waitress nearby. He said something in Chinese to her, and she scurried off.
“Miss Torgeson, you will drink some tea that will make you feel better.”
“Thank you, Mr. Zhang. I’m grateful,” I replied with a forced smile, having no idea what was coming.
A waitress quickly arrived with a strong-scented pot of herbal tea. She began to pour me a cup. “It good—drink—Chi balance,” the beautiful woman encouraged.
“Thank you,” I said, nodding to her.
I drank it, then forced a smile at Zhang, its bitterness lingering in my mouth.
It’s karma. Lying equals bitter tea.
“It tastes like horse piss, but it will cure your jet lag,” he informed me.
I would have laughed at his candor, had the tea not tasted just as he said.
After dinner, Chow returned Zhang to his factory, and I thanked the manufacturing president for a productive day.
On the return trip to the Bund hotel, I was surprised to feel my jet lag start to ease away.
That evening, I sat on my balcony in the humid night air, fiddling with the Herkimer in my hand. As I looked at the garden below, I pondered what my father had said about crystals resonating energy: Herkimers cleared the way for a higher spiritual understanding.
As I considered it, I heard church bells nearby start to ring.
I looked out beyond the courtyard to the lights of Shanghai and tightened my hold of the Herkimer. As the roar erupted, my breath caught in my throat as the hotel began to shake violently.
Chapter 9
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling of my bedroom at home, trying to piece the dream together. It had been so vivid, so real.
Chow.
My mind reached back…and then I knew. This was a continuation of a dream I’d had three years before.
“Sinéad, what day of the week is it?” I asked, trying to gain my bearings in time.
“It’s Saturday, Ann.”
“At least it’s the day I thought it was,” I said, comforting myself. “Give me the first three news highlights.”
“First, 8.9-magnitude earthquake levels much of Shanghai city. Second—”
“Stop, Sinéad!” I commanded, gasping in horror.
“Oh no…no…no…it’s not possible. No way,” I exclaimed in shock, bolting up in my bed.
“Sinéad,” I said. “Find the Bund Garden Hotel in Shanghai. Is it still standing?” I asked, anxious.
“No, Ann. The earthquake’s epicenter was latitude N 31° 14' 10.7712, and longitude E 121° 29' 9.9126, the same coordinates as the Bund Hotel. Nothing remains.”
My mind was racing. Why would I dream an earthquake that was happening in China?
“Sinéad, turn on the lights.”
I saw a light reflecting off the bed sheet as the lights came on. As I turned my head, I could see the Herkimer diamond. I picked it up in reflex.
I brought it back from my dream? I thought in disbelief.
As I held it, my mind raced back to my husband and what he had said.
“The Herkimer. Believe…”
* * *
We’d traveled to Bellingham on vacation in 2011 to visit with my Aunt Saundra and ski at Mount Baker. Elinor was fourteen years old and wanted to learn to ski. Mount Baker had received six hundred and ninety inches of new snow before we’d arrived to ski that spring. Armond wanted to ski the backcountry of the White Salmon area, while I would go with Elinor as she took her first skiing lesson in the Heather Meadows area. We bought Armond’s backcountry permit, our lift tickets, and Elinor’s lesson through the website, then the three of us headed to the mountain to play for the day.
As we pulled into the parking lot of White Salmon, I felt a sense of nervousness in my gut. I was always uneasy when Armond skied the backcountry, but since I’d given him an avalanche safety beacon this past Christmas, I’d hoped it would calm my nerves. It didn’t. Armond dressed in his ski clothes in the SUV.
“You’re gonna have good skiing today, Daddy,” Elinor gushed.
“I can see that. The powder should be fantastic,” Armond said passionately.
“What’s that noise?” I asked.
We all stopped and listened.
“Oh, that’s the avalanche control team setting off slides,” Armond said after a few seconds. “They do that regularly in the wilderness area whenever there’s heavy snow. We had twenty-four inches of snow in the past twenty-four hours,” he exclaimed with a smile.
“I didn’t realize it was that much,” I said, a little worried.
“Oh, don’t worry, love. Everything will be just fine,” he told me, kissing me.
“Besides, Daddy has his beacon, right?”
“I do. Did you know there are over one thousand acres to ski here, Elinor?” he asked.
“No. That’s a lot.”
“It’s a big area, which means that we won’t get bored today.”
“Are you excited about your lesson, sweetie?” I asked Elinor.
“Yeah. I’ve wanted to learn how to ski for a long time. But I wanted to learn here, instead of in the East. My friends have been telling me that skiing in powder is a lot better.”
“It sure is,” Armond remarked. “Skiing in powder is a lot different than skiing in the East. It takes a certain technique, so it’s really good that yo
u’ll learn here,” he added.
“Well I know it’s gonna be fun,” Elinor said excitedly.
“It looks like I’m ready. How do I look?” Armond asked us after he stepped outside, posing as though he were a ski model.
Elinor and I laughed and kept laughing harder as Armond posed.
“Daddy, you’re so funny.”
“I aim to please. You two girls have fun on the bunny slopes. I’ll meet up with you at lunchtime in the lodge, like we planned, and then we can ski together for the afternoon.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Now give me hugs,” he demanded playfully.
The three of us had a family hug.
“Don’t worry,” Armond said sternly, pointing his finger at me.
“I’ll do my best not to. Love you, baby.”
“Love you too,” he said, kissing me warmly on the mouth and holding me for a few seconds.
“Love you, Daddy,” Elinor offered, while Armond reached down to her for a hug. He then lifted her off her feet.
Elinor laughed.
Armond grabbed his skis off the rooftop carrier and headed to chair lift seven, which would get him to the Shuksan Arm backcountry.
“Daddy’s goofy,” Elinor said, watching him walk away.
“He is that,” I agreed with my arm around her waist, watching Armond.
We got in the car for the short drive to the Heather Meadows area. I parked, Elinor and I got dressed in the car, and then headed to the lodge for our rental skis. The building was cedar sided, a traditionally styled rustic alpine lodge with three stories. The lodge side facing the ski runs was covered with enormous picture windows down the side, so you could watch the skiers from the warmth of the many stone fireplaces in the lodge. The backdrop of Mt. Shuksan dwarfed the lodge.
“This is one of the prettiest places on Earth, don’t you think, Elinor?”
“Oh yes, Mommy.”
It was a breathtakingly beautiful day with snow falling; we would need our goggles. We got fitted for our rentals and were joking around with the young staff in the lodge. In the gift shop, Elinor stopped to look at hats.
“What do you think of this one?” she asked me after trying on a blue knitted cap.
“It’s just beautiful,” I told her.
“Do you think Daddy will like it?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll get it. I want something that I can always look at and remember this day.”
Elinor bought her commemorative hat, and we left the shop.
Her class was gathering for the lesson just as we made our way behind the lodge. I showed Elinor how to put on her skis and then left her to her class. As I was walking back to the lodge, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket, playing Nirvana’s “Come as You Are,” which was my ring tone for Armond’s calls. I opened my phone and saw that he had sent me a self-posed picture in the backcountry ski area. He wasn’t yet covered with snow, so he was obviously at the top of the ski run. I smiled at the picture. Armond was beaming.
I put the phone back in my jacket pocket and walked over to the big lodge, securing my skis in the public holder outside. I then went in to get some hot chocolate. Fifteen minutes later, cocoa in hand, I walked over to the bunny hill area where Elinor’s class was learning how to snow plow. I took out my small camera and snapped pictures of Elinor’s first lesson. She was doing pretty well for an awkward fourteen-year-old. A half hour later, my cup was empty, and I walked back over to get my skis, in anticipation of Elinor’s hour-long lesson ending. As I dropped my cup into the garbage, my heart felt as though it had skipped a beat, and I had to steady myself.
Passing the lodge, I heard some commotion behind me. I then saw a rescue team hastily assembling and heard the words “…caught in an avalanche….”
Turning abruptly, I approached one of the members of the avalanche team.
“Which part of the mountain had the avalanche?” I asked directly.
“Right now all I know is that it’s in the wilderness area accessible from White Salmon,” the worker quickly answered.
I backed away.
“Are you all right?” the worker asked me.
“My husband’s up there,” I responded in a numb voice.
“You’d better sit down,” she said, seeing my shock.
“I’m okay,” I responded, briskly turning to face Elinor’s ski class, trying to restrain my mounting panic.
Elinor saw me and waved. I waved back with a forced smile.
I felt sick inside, imagining Armond buried in the snow, my thoughts racing, telling myself that he could still be okay. That niggling sensation doubled, and then nervousness overcame me.
Standing there, I watched Elinor finish her lesson as my mind reeled. I’d been going over the words in my mind, trying to figure out how to tell her what I already knew in my gut.
It was two hours before they found him. The way he had finally landed after crashing in the surf of the avalanche left him able to breathe, although he was partially buried. The rescue crew said they wouldn’t have found him without the beacon he’d been wearing.
I held Elinor by the shoulders as I told her. She cried hard, trying to catch her breath.
The woman who had been updating us regularly approached.
“Ann, can I speak with you?” she asked. It was the seriousness in her eyes that prompted me to take a few steps away from Elinor as we spoke.
“How is he?” I asked her, as she turned me so that my back was to Elinor.
“Armond is about to arrive. He is conscious and asking for you.”
“Thank God,” I exclaimed.
“I must warn you, Ann, he’s critical. He has several fractures and very serious internal injuries.”
I couldn’t hold back the dam of tears I had successfully kept at bay for Elinor’s sake.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted to the rescue worker.
“Oh, it’s okay. You have every reason to be emotional. You must prepare yourself, though. It’s pretty bad,” she warned.
Is this it? Is this all I get…all Elinor gets? How can I finish raising her without you? I asked Armond silently.
“I can keep Elinor with me while you see him,” the rescue worker said, interrupting my thoughts.
That, more than anything else she had said, chilled me, numbness creeping into my hands, my legs, my face. “Is he that bad, that she can’t see him too?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“Give me a minute to think,” I asked, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
After a minute of silence, I said, “Armond has a Do Not Resuscitate order filed with his doctor. He would want you to know that,” I said flatly, trying to let my mind take the lead over my emotions.
“Okay. Just a minute,” she responded with a nod.
She radioed the rescue extraction team.
“Ten-four on the DNR,” I heard them confirm by radio.
“I would like you to keep my daughter with you when Armond arrives, but I need to ask you to keep her somewhere close where she can at least see him from a ways off. Okay?” I asked her.
“Yes, of course. I’ll do that.”
“Let me tell Elinor,” I said.
I turned around and walked back to Elinor while the rescue worker followed.
She saw it on my face, eyes widening, and she began to shake her head emphatically. I rushed the last few feet and hugged her hard.
“Oh sweetie, sweetie, my darling,” I consoled her.
After a few minutes in our sorrowful embrace, I took Elinor’s arms and held her face to face with me. “When Daddy gets here, I’m gonna go over there and see him. You’ll stay here with this rescue worker…”
“What’s your name?” I turned my head, asking her.
“Cosette.”
“Cosette will stay here with you for a few minutes while I see Daddy. Let me see how he is first, okay?”
“No, I want to stay with you, Mommy,” Elinor pleaded, small and vu
lnerable, a little girl again, instead of our awkward teenager.
I hugged her again, holding on, thinking.
“Give me just a minute with Daddy alone, and then Cosette will bring you over, okay?” I asked her.
“Okay, Mommy,” she responded, acquiescing.
I kissed her on the forehead once more, then put my cheek to her head, looking over to Cosette in a silent plea to take care of my Elinor.
After releasing her, I rushed over to the staging area after seeing the rescue sled approach.
As the team stopped, they lifted Armond onto the emergency assessment table, where a medical team waited. Armond saw me. Our eyes locked. Around him, the rescuers were quickly relaying vitals to the medical staff, but I only saw my beloved. Without permission, I moved to his head.
“It’s okay, babe. I know,” I whispered to him, choking the words out through my tears.
“I’m sorry,” he labored, with a weak raspy breath.
“Don't you leave!” I pleaded with him. “We haven't had enough time—”
“Love you both,” he softly interrupted.
“Don't. Don't. We need you,” I begged, realizing he was saying goodbye.
His eyes blazed into mine. As I moved to kiss him, I heard him barely whisper, “The Herkimer. Believe…” My lips grazed his forehead, cold and clammy, and I drew back, but he was gone, eyes staring past and through me, vacant.
Sorrow took control of every cell of my being, and I could only respond with heaving sobs. There was no thought, no language, no time, only tormented wailing that erupted from me as our two souls were torn apart, one in this world, one departing for the next.
The medical team quietly backed away.
I held my husband as Elinor rushed over to us.
I turned to her, crying, “Oh darling, darling. Daddy’s gone. He’s gone.”
“Daddy,” she called out, mustering him.
No reply.
With all of the courage that a fourteen-year-old girl could summon, Elinor gathered up her father, kissed him on the forehead, and whispered, “Goodbye, Daddy. Watch over me,” as tears fell from her eyes onto his lifeless face, with her new hat perched upon her head.
At that, neither of us could hold back our desperate grief. We sobbed together, holding him until the tears cleansed our minds, replacing thinking with a numb existence.
