“What? Tourists don’t even know about Swan Falls.”
Andrew walks into the kitchen. “Are we plotting our day?”
Hunter snorts. “Mom’s trying to bore us to death. Or freeze us to death.”
I get a little defensive. “It was sixty-five degrees yesterday. We’re not going to freeze to death. Now, everybody go get your shoes on. And bring a coat. And Beau, find Ditto’s leash.”
Hunter takes this as the last straw. “Aw, Mom, he stinks! Do we have to bring him?”
Andrew jumps in. “I did shower.”
“I was talking about the dog.” Hunter looks at Andrew. “Are you saying you actually want to go do this?”
Again, I think this is probably an activity that goes counter to the image Hunter and Beau have of a Hummer-driving, bling-wearing, rap-playing Andy Pettigrew.
“Well, what’s it like?” Andrew winks at me. He knows he’s got some pull here.
“It’s actually not that bad,” Beau chimes in. “It’s not a big waterfall, but it’s the Snake River, and there’s a cool old-fashioned dam. Sometimes you can find arrowheads on the other side of the river.”
Andrew looks thoughtful. “Sounds decent. Why don’t we go and humor your mother?”
I appreciate his ability to get the boys to comply. “Let’s go, shall we?” I get the keys.
Everyone piles in the car, dog included—who is, incidentally, pretty smelly. I have a moment where I wonder if this whole thing is going to turn out to have been a terrible idea.
But the boys are in command of the iPod, and they’re playing all the songs they like for Andrew. Of course he knows most of them and has something to say in response. The boys especially like when he mentions the artist and what he or she was like when he met them. Movie star cheater. A normal mom can’t compete with street cred like that.
Finally we drop down off the rocky plain into the Snake River Canyon. Hawks twirl above us in the sky. The river is low, and though it’s warm, there’s a cold autumn wind coming up.
We have the place to ourselves, except for one pack of mountain bikers.
The boys let Ditto loose. He runs for the green lawn around the old white farmhouses. They stand tall with sharply arched Victorian roofs.
“What are all these houses?” Andrew asks.
“The caretaker’s house, offices, a house for the workers. This wasn’t an easy spot to get to at the turn of the last century.”
Hunter rolls his eyes. “Watch out, Andrew. Mom’s preparing to go all tour guide on you.”
I roll my eyes back. “I already did the tour guide thing with him yesterday. Why don’t you tell him something about it, then?”
This seems to surprise Hunter, but in true tween fashion, he never misses an opportunity to be the one who knows it all. In his humble opinion, he does know more than anyone. This is one of the side effects of approaching adolescence.
“This was one of the early dams in the West. Silver City had electricity because of it. It was a mining town.” He pauses and looks down at his feet. “That’s what I know.”
That’ll probably be the most we hear from Hunter all day. He slips in his ear buds and begins to walk big circles around us, like a moon in orbit.
Beau chases Ditto down and puts him on the leash. Together they bound around from one object to the next, whipped into a frenzy by the new location. Beau yells at us from the edge of the road. “Are we taking the dam road or what?”
Andrew looks at me. “What did he say?”
I roll my eyes. “Expect several ‘dam’ jokes out of Beau. It’s one of his favorite parts of a trip out here.”
Andrew walks alongside me. We make our way slowly to the dam itself, which stands atop the old stone of a real waterfall in the riverbed. The powerhouse is actually perched on the metal walkways of the dam. It’s another Victorian structure, this one hewed out of sandstone. The old paned windows are whitewashed, as is all the equipment and the small outbuildings that squeeze onto the wide metal walkways.
“You guys want to walk across the dam?” I hope there isn’t a mutiny brewing.
“We’re running! Ditto hates the way this dam grating feels on his paws!” Beau yells, mostly at Andrew, as he flies past in a full sprint. Even though he’s being silly, he’s right. The dog hates the metal grating. He’ll be glad to get across quickly.
“Hunter?” I look around for the oldest. He’s right behind me.
“Geez, Mom, I’m right here.” He passes us in exasperation, still listening to his music, but I can tell he’s formulated some game about where he’s stepping on the grates. Looks like it has something to do with avoiding the welded spots.
Andrew watches them get farther ahead. “They’re good kids.”
“I think so.” It’s reassuring to hear it from someone else.
“They have a good mom.” Andrew smiles.
“Oh, stop.” I elbow him.
“Okay.”
I smile. “Keep it up. I was just pretending to protest. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I knew it. I like the humble act, though.”
As we come around the corner of the powerhouse, the breeze picks up. Both boys have made it across and now scour the riverbanks for special rocks and arrowheads.
“Now it’s a little chilly.” I can feel the wind cut through the arms of my jacket.
“This is a great place.” Andrew puts his arm around my shoulders.
“Keep your eyes peeled. This is a good time of year to see bald eagles.” I look to the bare cottonwood trees that line the river for signs of nests.
“When I go back tomorrow, what do you think’s going to happen?” Andrew asks me. He hasn’t stopped walking with me; we’re still in a rhythm. His voice has changed, though. It sounds tentative.
“I thought I was supposed to ask that.”
He stops. He scans the cliffs above us, as if looking for an answer there. His lips form a tight line. Then he’s shaking his head a little.
“See, that’s where I just don’t know. Your life has a rhythm to it, a purpose. I like how grounded you are. You’ve got the boys. You’ve got a home here. With me, I just don’t know. Sometimes I don’t know how to slow it all down. I used to do some stupid stuff instead of putting the brakes on…Now I think I’m better at it, but when I go back to LA, things get…” His voice trails off, and the wind whistles in the emptiness that’s left.
“My life feels crazy from the inside a lot of the time,” I offer. “Yes, I have the boys. But look at Hunter—soon they’ll both grow and be gone. They’re already starting to distance themselves, which they should be. I don’t want them to live with their mom forever. But then what? Then what’s my purpose? Then what’s my routine? I feel like I’ll go from mother to nothing.”
I take a deep breath of the clean river air. “But anyway. Here’s what I hope happens. You go back to LA, back to work, I presume. We do this crazy thing where we call each other on the phone. As often as we want. Just like the people in the phone commercials. And then…”
I can see some sort of idea spring to life in his eyes. When he speaks, he sounds a lot more certain: “And then, when I’m filming my next job, you’ll come see me.”
“I don’t know…The boys can’t be—”
“No, here’s where it’s perfect. My next job is in Ventura County. It’s doubling for Colorado. That’s the magic of movies. You and the boys fly down to see your parents, and you come and visit. Or you could come to the premiere of the movie I just finished. It’s about World War II. I get to make dramatic speeches and pound the table with my fist a lot. It’d be great.”
I’m trying to think about our next few months, the boys’ school holidays. “There are teacher training days…Thanksgiving’s only a few days, but we do get two weeks around Christmas.”
“That’d work out. You’ll be down to see your mom and dad at Christmastime anyway, right?”
I take a very deep breath.
“What?” He looks at me, measuring my reaction.
“You want me to see you in LA?”
“Why not?”
“Frankly, I keep trying to figure out what you see in me.”
“Because why?”
“Because you are a world-famous, handsome movie star. I am a widow with two kids and a very hairy dog.”
“Now, just because I’ve mostly seen you in running clothes with a liberal coating of dog fur—”
“Don’t forget—I haven’t had a good hair day in your presence yet.”
“True. But you’re missing the point. You have your eyes open to the stuff that matters to me too.”
Right now, for whatever reason, I feel overwhelmed. Suddenly I see this for what it is: I’m standing at the top of another chute, another steep run. I can almost hear Peter. Well, what’s it going to be? Stand up here and think about all the ways you’re going to crash, or jump in and ski already?
“Ski already.”
“What?” Andrew heard that. I must have said it out loud.
“Nothing. I’d love to see you work, and the boys would love it if they got to visit with you again. Maybe you could…” I leave off. I was going to say meet my parents but the words totally freaked me out and stuck in my throat.
“Maybe I could meet your folks.” He said it. Wow.
“Yeah, that too.” I need to be pinched.
“What?” He’s looking at me. I must have a weird expression.
“I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or to wake up. Or for you to turn into Ike Turner.”
“Who?”
Exasperated, I’m about to respond, but he elbows me. “I know who he is. You’re too easy.” He chuckles and jogs ahead to catch the boys.
I stay on the dam’s walkway for a moment and turn to face downriver. The wind pushes me from behind. I see a flash in the corner of my eye and look up to see a bald eagle swoop down from the canyon rim. He cruises past me, flying downriver to who knows where. He doesn’t seem too worried about his destination. I wish I could say the same.
13: You Just Got Here
WHEN WE GET HOME, both boys must be done with the whole bonding thing because they disappear upstairs. There are many TV shows to watch and other boy things to be done, apparently.
Andrew paces in the kitchen. “Can Hunter and Beau stay here tonight for a while if we want to go out for a bit?”
Red flags wave. “If we go out, you’ll get recognized, won’t you?” I don’t want the weekend spoiled.
Andrew puts on the tea kettle. “If we went through the McDonald’s drive-thru, I bet no one would notice.”
“That sounds fun.” I watch his face for a clue about what’s brewing.
“I’m just saying, there are ways for us to go out without, you know, going out.” He pulls out two mugs for tea.
“I’ll let the boys know they aren’t to pound on one another for a couple hours tonight. If we hook them up with Chinese takeout, it’ll buy us some time.”
He nods. He’s up to something.
A few hours later, we say goodbye to the boys after outfitting them with provisions and movies. As we walk out the door, he takes the keys.
“You’re the driver tonight?” I ask.
“If it’s okay with you. I’ve got a plan.”
I’m at a loss. This is supposed to be my turf. “I have to say I’m intrigued. Where’re we going?”
He hustles around to the passenger side and lets me in. Only then does he answer. “We’re just going on a drive. Go with it.” Then he’s in the car.
He smiles devilishly. I’m in for it. It doesn’t matter where we’re going; with a smile like that, it’s got to be trouble.
“All right. I’m in.”
He pulls out of the driveway and turns north. Then we head into the foothills.
The road winds its way up through the sage. I look out over the city as the dusk deepens. Boise is a flat, twinkling blanket. The Owyhee Mountains are turning pink in the near distance, their tips frosted with snowfall.
“It’s so pretty.” I have been known from time to time to say really deep things, but now is not one of those times.
Andrew puts his hand on mine for a moment. “You picked a great place to live, Kelly. I like it here. It suits me more than LA, I think.”
This makes me happy. I’m not sure why it’s important, but if someone doesn’t get Boise, chances are he might not get me.
By now we’ve climbed far enough up the Boise Front that our options for destinations are narrowing.
“There aren’t a lot of restaurants up this way, you know.” I look at him suspiciously.
“Another demonstration of your lack of faith in me. Trust me.” He slows the car and pulls off on a logging road.
I stay quiet for a minute. How does he know his way around up here? Has he been doing reconnaissance? When? “I’m very impressed, Mr. Pettigrew. How are you doing this? Or are you totally lost and just a really good actor?”
He doesn’t look at me, just keeps driving. “I have friends. And I am a really good actor, but I don’t need that right now, thank you very much.”
The car comes to a stop. We’ve come in the back way on Mores Mountain. We’re sitting in front of the Nordic Lodge at the ski resort. It’s not open for the season yet. But the lights are on.
“Andrew, what did you do?”
He turns off the car. “I asked the boys to tell me about a cool place you liked. They said you liked the mountain. I did some calling around. And then I had a friend call and set this up for me.”
We’re standing at the front porch. “I smell food.”
“You’re an observant one, you are.” He takes my hand and pulls me up the steps. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go in.”
The door is open. I’ve always liked this lodge. It sits at the trailhead of the very unassuming cross-country area above Boise. It’s a small log building, but the main floor has a huge A-frame main room. The windows open to a sparkly view of forest and the valley below.
The river-rock fireplace is lit. Most of the tables are still turned on their sides and pushed to the back wall. One is out, set with a white tablecloth and candles.
“This is awesome. I’m impressed.” It’s been a long time since I’ve had a fuss made over me. I remember now that it feels good.
“You might want to reserve judgment until you try the food.” He pulls out a chair for me, another thing I’m not used to at all.
The meal makes me smile. It’s from one of our favorite restaurants downtown. Included are plenty of mashed potatoes, which Hunter and Beau eat by the bucketful when we go there. “The boys helped, didn’t they?”
“They said it was your favorite. You’ll recall that I don’t cook much.”
I feel a warm lump in my throat. I don’t want to cry. I may not have a choice. “You guys…I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, you showed me a good time in Boise when I appeared unannounced. It’s the least I could do. Plus, tomorrow I go back.”
Ugh. Reality again. “What time?”
He grimaces. “Painfully early. I guess the group in Sun Valley didn’t have the best time together, and they’re ready to get home.”
“You called it. You said you didn’t want to spend a weekend with them.”
He nods. “I knew I didn’t want to be with them, but seems they realized they didn’t want to be with each other either.”
I sigh. It comes out before I even realize it. “I’m bummed that you’re going back.”
He stops eating and looks straight at me. “Me too.”
We don’t talk for a while.
He breaks the silence first. “Can I take your plate?” He stands.
“I can get it. You did everything else.” I’m on my feet.
“I didn’t. I paid someone very well to handle it for me. One of the perks.”
I have both plates in hand. “So does someone know the fabulously famous Andy Pettigrew was in Bois
e this weekend?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. The beauty of Hollywood is that the I-have-people thing is true. I called a very accommodating production assistant I know in LA, and she made some calls, so as far as anyone knows, someone with a lot of money from somewhere put this together. Nice and vague all the way around.”
We clear the table together, and he leads the way out to the deck. It’s another cold, clear night.
“Well, I guess goodbyes are in order.” I try to sound like it’s not a big deal, but it kind of breaks my heart.
“Geez, goodbyes? That sounds so terribly final. I’m just going back to LA.”
“Yeah, but, Andrew…” I leave off. I think he knows what I mean.
“But nothing. I like you. I had a good time. Did you?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“Honestly, will you stop doing that? We’ve decided we’re going to call each other, and we’re going to see each other again. Doesn’t that sound good?”
It sounds amazing. But I still don’t buy it. Really, at some point he’s going to recover from whatever brain injury has caused this inexplicable attraction to me. “I don’t know what to say.”
He puts his arms around me. “How about, ‘That sounds good.’ Or ‘Yes, let’s do call each other and see each other again.’ Generally that’s how people do it.”
I smile. “Let’s do.”
He rolls his eyes. “Come on, you need to give me a little credit. I’m not going to fall off the face of the earth.”
I hear a voice inside say something to the effect of I’ll believe it when I see it. But I don’t tell him that. Not when he holds me close in the November chill on the top of the mountain and kisses the spot where my earlobe meets my neck. At that moment, I’d like to give him a lot of credit.
I shiver, and his lips travel from my neck to my lips. His kisses are soft, then strong, and I feel myself pressing closer. Every muscle in his body seems tense. I let my hands wander. Despite the temperature dropping, his skin feels electric under my touch. I can hear my breath. It comes in sharp, deep inhalations, and I can feel how shaky I am as I exhale.
He stops. “Are you okay?”
I must admit, I may be hyperventilating, but really…“I’m beyond okay. You are driving me crazy.”
Fix You Page 8
