“Of course not, and I’m not. It’s just, twelve-year-olds can be…giggly and dramatic and they remember absolutely everything they read about one online, and nothing one says about math.”
Gran leaned forward, concern softening her gaze. “Was your first week that bad, honey? Surely your students have never been to the church’s social media page? And why would you care even if they had?”
Lilly forced a smile. “I am fine. The week was…educational. And yes, every single one of my students has been to the church’s page, and commented, and made videos and memes and Shakespearian sonnets, but that is beside the point. I’m just asking for a little bit of patience in the guy department. That’s all.”
Gran patted her hand. “Of course, dear. I am a patient woman. I just want to see you happy…happy and bringing your children by for cookies instead of just your dog.”
“Gran! You didn’t give Strudel cookies?”
An impish smile twitched at the edge of Gran’s lips.
Lilly put her head in her hands. “He’ll regurgitate every one of them on my down comforter tonight.”
“Perhaps you should just spread a nice plastic tarp across your bed. I’ll try to resist next time he’s over, but that little dog could charm the socks off of Genghis Kahn himself.”
“Who would want Genghis Kahn’s socks?” Lilly mumbled to herself. “I better go check on him. I haven’t heard anything for a bit.”
“Oh he’s probably outside. He loves my cat door.”
“Gran!”
“What? Surely the dog can go outside?”
Lilly dashed down the hall.
Gran muttered behind her as she ran. “What can that dog do if he can’t have cookies, chase walkers, or go outside?”
Lilly flung the door open and charged outside.
Strudel zipped around the trunk of a small dogwood tree. A streak of brown zinged up the tree ahead of him. Strudel stopped at the base of the tree and barked. The creature paused and skittered back down the trunk.
“Strudel, No!” Lilly shouted and leapt forward, but she wasn’t quite fast enough.
The fat, brown squirrel lunged forward, quick as a bolt of lightning, and sank its terrible fangs into Strudel’s tender nose. With a howl of pain, Strudel ran into her arms.
Lilly clutched him to her chest and sprinted for the house. After spreading him out on the kitchen table to ensure that his injuries were not fatal, Lilly swiped a rogue tear from her cheek and attempted to provide her doggy with first aid.
“Honey, that bandage isn’t going to stick. His fur is messing it up. Besides, that cut is all of an eighth of an inch wide. I think he’ll recover.”
“Who is the math teacher here? It is more like a tenth, but that is beside the point. I can’t let it get infected. If it’s not bandaged…maybe I should call the vet? Who do you use for your cats?”
Gran raised a brow and stuffed a few molasses cookies into a green plastic container. “Well, if you two will be stuck at the doctor’s you’ll need more cookies. You might as well give Strudel some too, since he’ll be at the vet’s overnight, and he’ll throw up there instead of at home. Very handy, actually.”
“Gran!”
The older woman gave Lilly a warm hug and pushed the cookies into her hands. “He’ll be fine, honey. Rub a little antibiotic cream on his nose and watch for redness or swelling. You’re the one who read the Red Cross first aid book the summer you turned ten. You should know these things. Now, I just know there was something I was supposed to tell you. What was it?”
Lilly smoothed the gray hair away from Gran’s forehead and planted a kiss on her brow. “You’ll remember. Just message me when you do, but in a private message. Don’t write it on my wall, again. OK?”
Gran patted her hand.
Lilly hustled the wounded Strudel out to her car, keeping a sharp eye open for more murderous squirrels. It wasn’t until she got home and checked her e-mail that she realized she really should have given Gran a chance to remember.
Dear Miss Park,
Thank you so very much for volunteering to chaperone the Jr. High Youth Group backpacking trip this weekend! The trip is headed up by Tristian Calvert our youth leader and a local rafting, ski, and firefighting expert. So everyone should be very safe. Which is good, since you all will be hiking across Spider Gap and an actual alpine glacier all the way to Holden Village where you will ride The Lady of the Lake home, since the area is only reachable by floatplane or boat. Good luck and be sure to pack smart as this is the most advanced hiking trip our youth have attempted to date. Mr. Blanchard the assistant librarian at the Jr. High and Mr. Sutter the president of the church bowling league will also be accompanying you. Obviously, you will be in charge of the young ladies in the group. Thank you again for your thoughtful service, especially since you are so new to our congregation.
God Bless,
Pastor Bob
4
Graphs or Glaciers, Pencils or Alpine Peaks
Lilly stared at the email. The water in her tub kept filling and filling until a trickle of moisture around her bare feet jolted Lilly out of her dazed state. She jumped to her feet and rushed into the bathroom. Water sloshed over the side of the tub, splashing and soaking her jeans. She wadded across the flooded floor, skidding on the slick tile.
She leaned over the tub, dragging her sleeve through the now frigid water, turned off the faucet and pulled the plug. Only a few drips fell, leaving ripples on the glassy surface. A small whirl pool formed over the drain. Although the tub was emptying fast a small stream continued to meander down the hall. The unexpected waterway ended in a tiny, soapy pool that puddled against the barricade of her leather purse.
How dare she? How could Gran even consider signing her up for something like this? It was just like the living Nativity, only with bears!
She stared at the water as it spiraled down the drain. A smidge of her anger slid away along with the chilly water. No, Gran meant well. The crime was committed out of love and it did seem as though the Jr. High youth group really did need her. They couldn’t exactly go on the trip without a female chaperone. Lilly imagined the outrage of the girls in the group as Pastor Bob informed them that it would be a guys-only outing.
She, Lilly Charity Park, had the power to prevent this injustice. She even knew how to hike. Lilly had taken Strudel on many a walk to see the ducks, even going so far as to travel two or three miles in search of wild fowl. She could step up for the 6th to 8th grade girls of their community and offer them equality. The same opportunity as their male peers to hike within God’s wide world. To see the glory of His creation, orderly, lovely, all the mathematical perfection of a single star, or the genius contained within the delicate shoot of a young plant.
Lilly didn’t have to remake her teaching aids for the school year. No, she only required the construction of a few additional resources to guide them through this backpacking adventure.
Principal Oropeza wanted her to volunteer among the youth, so traversing a mountain pass with her students would surely count for an entire year’s worth of positive contact outside of school. This trip into the wilderness was the answer to her teaching woes.
Lilly stood, shivering and wet in the hall, staring into the distance. After she gave them this fabulous opportunity, the 6th graders in her group would come around. They would see the organization within the natural world and come to appreciate all things academic. Especially if she could map out every aspect of their trip in glorious detail. The children would tremble with excitement to see her charts and graphs lending assistance as they trekked across the mountains. The children would grow to adore mathematics, and the subjects that students truly loved could never be a drudgery to study.
Strudel thundered down the hall. He lunged toward a large, shiny bubble that had settled near her purse. Her pup’s flowing coat seemed to be a hindrance when wet. He tripped and face planted into the puddle before skidding across the floor and bumping up against the wall in
a soggy mound of fur.
Perhaps she should take him in for a trim. Oh no, what about Strudel? Who would take care of her baby while she was off conquering the great outdoors and the minds and hearts of the 6th grade girls in their church?
Gran could watch him. Yes, she had made the mistake of allowing Strudel outside to be savaged by squirrels. But if Lilly taped the cat door shut before leaving, and posted handy reminders around the house on aesthetically pleasing posters featuring adorable cartoon characters that reminded Gran not to feed him any more cookies, then Strudel would be safe, and Gran would not be insulted by Lilly’s cautious approach to pet ownership. Plus, Lilly had seen an old backpack up in Gran’s attic when she’d had to grab those hummingbird feeders for her last week.
She glanced at the email. Her heart gave an unpleasant lurch. The hike began in two hours! How had this happened, surely they’d had her email earlier than this? Or had Gran just volunteered her, today? Grandma had forgotten something. Something that had not been troubling her when Lilly dropped off Strudel that morning. An hour… she had just enough time to print up a few colorful posters and hiking charts, take Strudel back to Gran’s, and pack that backpack.
Lilly smiled down at the unexpected email. She would do it! This was exactly what Mrs. Oropeza had wanted. A grand gesture that would show her troubled students exactly how practical mathematics could be. It was perfect, an answer to her desperate prayers.
5
WWII Backpacks and Pet Care Products
Lilly reached up and gave the attic ladder a gentle tug. The trap door rattled, but did not lower. She stood to the side pressed against the wall as she reached up to try again. She did not want a repeat of Grandpa’s “Ladder Ordeal of ‘09” on her hands. Shortly before his death, Grandpa had yanked on the rope with too much vigor and brought the whole thing whizzing down smack into his mouth. One concussion and a new set of dentures later had taught the entire family to be wary of anything that folded down from the ceiling.
Perhaps a smooth yank on the rope would suit her needs. Lilly raised her arm to protect her face and pulled. The trap door creaked open and the ladder zipped down until it thunked onto the pinewood flooring in the upstairs hall. Lilly clicked on her flashlight and ascended into the dusty murk of Gran’s attic.
Grandpa’s favorite uncle had left them a wonderful backpack, Gran said. If Lilly was to give the girls in their church the gift of a hiking trip, and reveal the fabulous educational value of the outdoors to her students, she needed to get moving.
Lilly tiptoed beneath a dusty cobweb and shined the wavering flashlight into the far corner past the five remaining humming bird feeders that Gran was saving for a rainy day. Yes, there was the fake Christmas tree and the one-eyed wooden rocking horse. Tucked under the tree like a present, was the backpack.
Only, it didn’t look like any of the packs that Lilly had seen on TV. On mountain shows, featuring hikers braving Mt. Everest or skiing for their lives across the Rockies, the backpacks were large colorful affairs with many pockets that appeared to be made from hearty modern fabrics. This backpack was army green and made of rough, stained canvas that didn’t budge when she poked it with her finger. Lilly flipped it over and saw that the other side of the device was a backboard, with two straps hanging down from a metal frame that had a bit of canvas stretched across the center.
Strange, but it should work. The idea was simple enough, cram what you needed inside and hike. Not unlike putting a picnic lunch inside of a large purse before going to the park with Strudel. Sure, the bulky handbag was a bit of a pain, but the sandwiches were soon eaten and the walk there always increased their appetites. It was perfect.
A slip of yellowed paper fell from the pack as Lilly heaved it from under the tree. The paper read: Use of the packboard—General Instructions. It had a somewhat alarming sketch below these innocuous words which depicted a soldier in a pith helmet energetically firing a large rifle while hauling some kind of huge table upon his back via the pack board.
So her backpack had many uses. But surely she would not be required to heave tables and bunkers and things about? The pack was clearly capable of carrying more innocent cargo, such as spare socks and bear spray. Lilly shoved the niggling sensation of concern aside and climbed down the ladder bearing her prize.
Gran and Strudel met her in the kitchen.
Lilly plunked the backpack down and went at the antique with a wet cloth and a bottle of pine-scented cleaner.
“Don’t you think that pack is a bit old, dear?”
“Of course it’s old. But how much could hiking have changed since 1945?”
Her grandma clucked and eyed the pack board with a critical eye. “I don’t think the boys that carried this around were much concerned with scenery. Maybe I should have left well enough alone. I thought you had a pack.”
“That would be my dog purse. But who says those soldiers didn’t look at scenery, they certainly had to hike places. Between bits of excitement and what not I bet they were like any other outdoorsman or woman.” Lilly thought of the sketch of the soldier with the table on his back, running and shooting. “The pack does its job whether the wearer notices the mountains or not. I’ll be fine.”
“Good, because I hear there are several eligible bachelors chaperoning this hike and I want a full report on all of them when you return.”
Lilly heaved a duffle full of folded clothes onto the pine bench beneath Gran’s kitchen window and proceeded to stuff about half of them into the stiff confines of the pack. “At least one of the chaperones is married, the other is old enough to be my grandfather, and the last one sounds like some crazed ski bum who leaps out of planes into wildfires in the off season.”
Gran perked up as Lilly mentioned the older of the bachelors. Lilly shook her head. “Maybe you should have volunteered yourself. Looks as if you have just as much a chance of nabbing a date as I do.”
“Oh, you know how my knees get. I’ll just have to try to meet someone at the bingo tournament this weekend. Which reminds me, I can’t watch the little mop for you this weekend. These are the Senior Center bingo finals and Pastor Bob is driving a whole group of us to Spokane to compete. I made the team and wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Gran beamed and patted her hair. No doubt considering the many fine widowers who would be in attendance.
Lilly’s pile of earth-tone ankle socks dropped from her hand. She stared down at Strudel as he zipped around the table and attacked it with a theatrical pounce. What on earth would she do with her dog?
Gran appeared to notice the blood drain from Lilly’s face. She reached out to pat her granddaughter’s hand. “You saw how much Strudel enjoyed my yard. Let the little guy get out into the woods, enjoy life, live like the dog that he is. It won’t hurt him and he will be much happier for it. I say you take Strudel with you.” Gran slid another cookie onto Lilly’s plate and pushed her walker toward the laundry room to retrieve several matching capri sets for her own flowered suitcase.
Lilly picked up Strudel and eyed the stiff canvas pack. She didn’t know anyone else in town. Her normal sitter was fabulous, but she lived in Seattle, over two hours away. A quick peek in the phone book revealed only one dog sitter and the ad featured fifteen rambunctious animals jostling over a pile of scattered toys in a small back yard. Strudel would never survive a toe-to-toe struggle with a bull mastiff, much less the three healthy specimens depicted in the photo. The woman didn’t even demand references before taking a new dog on. No, leaving her fur baby behind was unthinkable.
If the girls were to have their hike, the only solution was to bring Strudel along. And the only way to bring her dog…was to hide him. Lilly pulled a bottle of “Good Doggy” down from the high cupboard. They only used it for emergencies, like that time Lilly and Strudel had driven Gran’s five cats to the fair to compete with all the other obese felines in the county. That journey had definitely been a “Good Doggy” situation, just like this back packing trip.
No, Lilly woul
d not feel guilty. It was only for a little while and perhaps Strudel would grow to love the pack. By the end of the first day he probably wouldn’t even need a drop of “Good Doggy.” His passion for the scent of the wilderness and the gentle rocking of being carried across alpine meadows and icy glaciers would grow until he slept in the pack unaided by bottle or stern command. In fact, Lilly poured only a small amount of “Good Doggy” into a square plastic container. She wouldn’t even need the whole bottle.
Strudel barked and leapt up to attack the string on Gran’s tea bag, which was dangling off the blue china saucer at the edge of the breakfast nook. The small dog shredded the little packet to bits, and then zoomed around the kitchen like a furry little rocket that had malfunctioned and couldn’t hold a straight course to save its life.
Perhaps she should bring her dog purse, just in case. Strudel always behaved in his dog purse, he knew the ladies at the bank would give him a cookie if he was quiet, and the pastor’s wife often had pepperoni in her purse if he could sit through church without a yip. Yes, the dog purse and a few pepperoni sticks would do wonders if Strudel got on another teabag hunting frenzy.
Lilly nodded to herself. The dog purse was a must, but only the essentials after that. She was running out of room in the antique pack board. Lilly took a deep breath and went to grab Strudel’s favorite coats and a few choice toys.
6
Trail head Tribulations
Lilly checked her car’s GPS system one more time. OK, she had driven fifteen miles out of town, turned at the cute little gas station/restaurant and driven an additional ten miles. Why on earth would someone have to drive this far just to go on a hike? Lilly and Strudel had hiked all the time in Bellevue at the park by her mother’s house. Their hikes had never required such a lengthy drive. Lilly sighed with relief as she saw that she was on the final step. All they had to do was follow Chiwawa River Road…for twenty-two miles! No, this would be all right. At sixty miles per hour that would be less than a half hour.
Spider Gap Page 3
