by Carol Grace
He shoved his hand into his pocket and fingered the magnifying glass, then looked at her inquisitively.
She struggled to find the right words. “I mean, at least he followed his dream. He didn’t spend his life working in an office, wondering what it would be like—”
“You can say that again. He never had a steady job in his life.”
“I understand that. But he never had second thoughts. He knew what he wanted to do and he did it.”
“Oh, Catherine,” he said in exasperation. “You didn’t know him.”
“Did you?”
“Of course I did. I’m the one who listened to his stories. He almost made a believer out of me. He was Paul Bunyan and Peter Pan and Daniel Boone. The man who never gave up. The man who never grew up. I’ll never forgive him. But I’ll never forget him, either,” he added undo his breath. Then Josh lifted his arms and stretched them toward the sky. “Okay, Dad, I’m here,” he shouted. “Where’s the treasure?”
The word echoed off the purple mountains and mocked him. Treasure... treasure... treasure.
Catherine turned and met Josh’s gaze. “Where should I look?” he called again, and the voice came back. Look... look... look.
Josh looked down at the compass in his hand. The needle swung around and pointed to Catherine and to the mine entrance behind her. He felt his heart speed up. He was on the brink of a discovery. Maybe even on the threshold of finding the answer. Just look, his father’s voice seemed to say. Look around you. The gap that led to the mine was there ahead of him. Tantalizing him with its promise of riches. Empty promise. Empty mine.
He stared into the black depths of the cavern. The compass needle swung again and pointed back to himself. And suddenly he understood. “You’re right,” he said, sliding the compass into his pocket so he could put her hands on his hips. “I didn’t know him. I didn’t know why he left me the shares to the mine. Not until now.”
“I don’t understand. There was nothing in there but his tools. The shares are still worthless.”
“That’s what I thought, but I was wrong. I said he didn’t leave me anything, but he did.” Puzzled, Catherine looked into his eyes. He drew her to him and savored the warmth of her body after the cold, damp air of the mine. “I think he left me the mine so I could see for myself what it’s like to be on the brink of the unknown,” he said slowly, “to make a discovery of my own.”
“What did you discover?” she asked.
“I discovered that I’m part dreamer like my father. That I’m drawn to the unknown just as he was. I wasn’t supposed to come to Aruaca. I was scheduled to go to Panama, and then Colombia, but I turned them down and put my career in jeopardy, not knowing what would happen, hoping something here would open up. This job turned up, I turned up and you turned up, all at the same time.”
“So your father was a success, after all. He got you here.”
“He got us both here.”
“And now you know what he wanted you to know. How do you feel?”
His answer was to lift her in the thin mountain air and spin her around. Her hair fell around her face in a cloud of waves. Her cheeks reddened and she laughed out loud. It was joy. It was relief. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. When he set her down, he smiled.
“How do I feel? I feel good for myself, but sorry for my father. I wish he could see me now.”
Catherine looked off at the clouds massing over the mountains in the distance. “Maybe he can. Maybe he knows. Maybe that was his voice you heard.”
“That was an echo,” he said, but there was a hint of doubt in his voice that made her smile. He traced the outline of her upturned lips with his finger. “All right, maybe it was his voice. Maybe he knows I’m here. And he knows you’re here with me. Maybe he planned the whole thing. Today I believe anything’s possible.”
“Like your promotion?”
“Yes. No. I wasn’t thinking about that. In fact, I haven’t thought about it for days, maybe weeks. It doesn’t seem so important anymore. What’s more important is what I found here. I feel like I found the piece to a puzzle that I didn’t even know was missing. Does that make sense to you?”
She wiped her dusty hands on her pants. “I think so. What’s next?” Her words hung in the still mountain air. The silence was broken only by the buzzing of bees near some wildflowers growing in a crack in the rocks.
A jolt of elation hit him. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, freeing him to do whatever he wanted. To be whatever he wanted to be. He was no longer afraid of poverty or insecurity. The only thing he was afraid of was losing Catherine.
In answer to her question he kissed her, tenderly at first, then passionately. He pulled away to look into her face. “I feel like anything’s possible... you... me... anything.”
“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly, “but...”
Whatever it was he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear her say she didn’t love him or that there was no future for them because of her five-year plan, or her determination not to return to the States. Not now. Now when they were on top of the world, the only two people in the world. So he kissed her again to seal her lips.
She lifted her arms and hugged him to her, returning his kiss, deepening and lengthening it until they staggered backward toward the mine together, their shoes scraping across the stones and gravel. He caught her around the waist and stared into her eyes, looking for a sign that she believed in them, in their future.
Catherine felt as if her body was on fire. It wasn’t fair of him to ask her what she thought when she couldn’t think at all. She could only feel, and what she felt was that whether it was his father or fate, something had brought them together to the top of this mountain. And she wouldn’t, she couldn’t, cast a shadow over his dreams.
“It.. .it’s been quite a day,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze, knowing there were questions there she couldn’t answer. She felt a rumble of laughter in his chest at her understatement.
“And it’s not over yet,” he said, looking down at her. “I want to go back inside. I want a sample of every kind of rock there is. I don’t know why, but I do.”
She picked up the shovel and leaned on it to support her shaky knees. “Okay.”
Together, with Pedro watching and helping when he could, they made many trips in and out of the mine, carrying small samples. Catherine was at Josh’s side, sharing the elation of discovery. She wondered what would happen when they got back to sea level. Would this euphoria disappear when he found the rocks were worthless and things didn’t seem so simple? Anything was possible for them. But probable? No. He said he hadn’t thought about his promotion, but he hadn’t said he didn’t want it. He was still going back to become a vice president someday.
They spent their last night at the mine, stretched out next to the fire. He tucked her body next to his to protect her from the cool night air and buried his face in the fragrance of her dark hair. He wanted to tell her how he felt now, so she could get used to the idea that he loved her. But he was just getting used to it himself and he wondered if she was ready to hear it yet. Her steady breathing told him she was already asleep, so he lay awake and watched the embers of the fire, his mind spinning with hopes, dreams and plans.
After they packed their saddlebags the next day, they headed down the mountain. Josh helped Catherine down the steep, rocky grade just as he’d helped her up. She kept her eyes fastened on his, her hands tightly gripping his. He willed her his strength and her feet found the path. He almost told her then, as they paused to get their bearings, the hot sun on their shoulders, the sound of the burros’ hooves ahead of them, what he’d decided to do about her and about them, but he didn’t.
He walked behind her across the valley, his eyes on the curve of her hips, and resolved not to say anything to spoil the magic of this trip. Walking in his father’s footsteps, he thought about success. Success could be measured in other ways besides money. His father knew that. Catheri
ne knew it, too. But he was just learning.
At the ranch they paid for the use of the burros, unpacked, thanked the old man and climbed into their Jeep for the long ride back to Palomar. It was still raining in their valley when they arrived the next evening. The skies were leaden and the ground was saturated. After leaving Pedro at his tin shop, Josh took Catherine to her house. When he unloaded her things, he found the rock she’d collected on the front seat.
“Don’t forget your souvenir.”
She ran her fingers over the vein of dark red that ran through the dull gray. “Have it analyzed with the other samples. Maybe I’ve got myself a ruby.”
He smiled at the thought. “I’ll do that. As soon as I get the results of the tests, I’ll let you know.” They took shelter from the rain on her front porch. “I have to get the Jeep back tonight, but I want to see you. We have to talk.” Instead of talking, Josh bent down to kiss her lips, long and hard. He didn’t want to leave. There was a nagging fear in the back of his mind that things would never be this good, this perfect again. He was afraid that if he left now something might come between them.
“I’ll come by your stall tomorrow,” he promised. He ran his hands down her arms and held her tightly. The dust from her shirt mingled with his. He kissed a smudge on her nose. A feeling of certainty replaced his doubts. Certainty that they belonged together, on a farm, or in a bank, along a trail or in a wobbly canoe.
Wherever she was, that was where he wanted to be. If he didn’t feel so sure, he never would have left her on the steps, tired, dirty and disheveled. But it was only temporary. He’d bring the Jeep back, take a shower, leave the rocks to be analyzed and then tell Catherine what she already knew deep down in her subconscious: that their love was strong enough to overcome any obstacle. He kissed her long and slowly and left her standing on the steps looking dazed.
Chapter Ten
No sooner had Josh’s car disappeared around the bend in the road than Jacinda appeared at Catherine’s door, a waterproof poncho covering her small figure. Without wasting time with a greeting she pulled a basket of tomatoes from under her poncho and held it up for Catherine to see.
Catherine frowned at the white spots of mildew that dusted the tops of the tomatoes. “Oh, no,” she murmured.
“Tomatoes need sun. Not much, but some,” Jacinda said. “We cannot take these to sell.”
“What about the potatoes or the melons?”
Jacinda shook her head. “Rotting in the fields.”
A sick feeling hit Catherine with the force of a tractor. Mechanically she removed her jacket and boots and put water on the stove to boil for tea. Then she turned to Jacinda.
“What will we do?” the old woman asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.
Catherine rubbed her hands together. “Wait,” she said. “And while we have time on our hands, we’ll knit for Magdalena’s baby. Tell the women to come by this afternoon for a sewing bee.”
Jacinda’s narrow shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at Catherine. “I knew you would have the answer.”
After Catherine poured the tea, Jacinda leaned forward across the table. “But what about the bank? We have not been there for many days. What will Mr. Bentley say when we do not appear with the payment?”
Catherine looked at the calendar on the wall. There was a large red circle around the seventeenth. “We have a few more days to worry about that. We’ll think of something,” she said with all the confidence she could manage. “Maybe the rain will stop by then.”
Every day they crocheted blankets for the baby or knitted socks for the men in the mines, and still the rain came down. Restless, Catherine put her needles aside and went to the front window. It was so ironic that she almost laughed. Too much rain in Aruaca and too little in California. She finally wrote a letter to the bank to explain their problem, but the mailman’s truck got stuck in the mud outside of town and no messages went in or out of Palomar for days. Josh must be wondering why they didn’t show up at the stall or come by with the payment. But surely he would suspect it was because of the weather.
When the mailman finally dug his truck out, he brought a letter for Catherine. The women were in her kitchen, the sound of their voices blending with the click of the knitting needles. She saw the name of the bank in bold black letters in the corner of the envelope. Before she opened it she took a deep breath. When she scanned the print, certain words and phrases leaped out at her. They were “final notice,” “vitally important,” “further action” and “past due.” The letter was signed by someone she’d never heard of. Catherine stood in the doorway of the kitchen, feeding the blood drain from her face.
Jacinda jumped up from the table and took Catherine’s hands in hers. The letter fell to the floor. “Is it bad news from home?” she asked with a concerned frown on her wrinkled face.
Catherine steadied herself with one hand on the back of a chair. “No, not from home.” She sat down with the women and explained what the letter meant. They argued that Josh wouldn’t do this, that they should talk with him, but in the end they agreed that Catherine should take the truck back. They tried to be strong, but their disappointment was obvious. Catherine couldn’t stand the look of sorrow on their faces any longer. She turned and ran upstairs to change her clothes. As she pulled off her long skirt and exchanged it for trim navy blue pants and a matching jacket, she seethed with anger.
She knew the meaning of “further action.” It was a euphemism for “repossession.” She could understand that. She could understand their concern. But this form letter was so impersonal. Did Josh know about it? Was it his idea? He knew and she knew that she’d promised to bring the truck back if the worst happened and they couldn’t make their payments. Well, the worst had happened and she’d bring the truck back to where she’d gotten it in the lot behind the bank. Then she’d ride up to his office and put the keys on his desk. If the bank wanted to repossess the truck, she’d make it easy for them. She said goodbye to the women, stuffed the letter into the pocket of her jacket and drove out onto the highway.
It felt good to be behind the wheel again. It felt good to be taking action, instead of sitting in the kitchen and watching the rain come down. She’d had too many days to sit and think and worry. But as she climbed up out of the valley, the rain increased until she could only see a few feet in front of her. It didn’t feel good to be behind the wheel anymore. She wished herself back inside the kitchen, dry and safe.
The truck’s tires slammed into rain-filled potholes, sending sheets of muddy water up over the hood and onto the windshield. She gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. She veered to avoid a mud slide, sending her to the edge of the road. The asphalt crumbled. She felt the front left tire lose its support and roll over the edge.
She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Trees rushed by and her head hit the roof with a thud. The biggest tree she’d ever seen loomed in front of her and stopped her wild, sickening ride with a jolt that crushed the front of the truck. A pain shot through her chest as if she’d been speared, and then everything went black.
Her last conscious thought was of Josh. His face floated in front of her and she heard his voice. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Everything’s all right.” But as the darkness pressed in on her, she knew that everything wasn’t okay. And nothing was all right.
Josh stood at the corner of the cobblestone streets again at dawn as he’d done every day since he’d been back, watching the trucks rumble by. It was 7:00 a.m. and they weren’t here. Again. Was it the truck or the rain, or had something else happened? He couldn’t wait another day. He had to knew.
He took a taxi to the bank and told his secretary he’d be out for a few hours. Then he headed his car out of town toward Palomar. The rain began about an hour after he left the city, light but steady. He didn’t slow down. He looked at the sky, a sick, worried feeling nagging at his subconscious.
An hour later he saw the black tire
marks veering off the road, and he screeched to a stop on the other side of the mud slide. In seconds he was standing at the edge of the asphalt where the road had crumbled away, his heart pounding, his hands shaking.
Bracing his feet on the steep slope, he saw the tracks leading down into the forest. Sliding, slipping, falling, he followed the tracks, skewed at impossible angles. He might have shouted her name if he’d had any air in his lungs, but he didn’t. Finally, when he was halfway down the gulch, he saw the truck wedged into a huge fir.
She was slumped over the wheel, a huge bump on her forehead, a cut under her eye. He pried open the door and found his voice.
“Catherine.” Her name was ripped from his throat.
She shuddered and he felt like crying. She was alive. Her eyelids fluttered as he lifted her over his shoulder and prayed she didn’t have internal injuries. Whatever she had he couldn’t wait for a stretcher or an ambulance.
He carried her up the steep slope, gasping for breath, crossed the road and placed her carefully in the back seat. She moaned and he tucked his suit jacket around her. If she was all right, he’d never let her drive that truck again. He’d never let her out of his sight again. He was responsible for this. He should never have lent them the money for the truck.
What was he thinking? Catherine was the last person in the world he could keep from doing what she wanted to do. If she wanted to drive a truck over a mountain road in the rain, she would. But why today? Why was she alone? Where was the produce? And where were the women?
The questions remained unspoken and unanswered. He made deals with himself all the way to the hospital—the things he’d tell her if she was all right, the things he’d do for her. He made deals with God, too, as he watched her being lifted into the emergency room on a gurney.
When the doctor came out, he looked serious but not grim. Josh wanted to grab him by the lapels of his lab coat and shake the news out of him. Instead he stood there and waited while the doctor found the papers he was searching for on his clipboard.
