A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

"Right. Say, how am I going to get word to you if I can locate some waders? Just in case you decide to come in the river, you understand."

  The chances of her wading into that river were slim to none, but Annie didn't want him to think her a wimp. "How about if I meet you here tomorrow morning. About six??"

  "Sounds good." He pulled on his waders and vest, slung the net over his shoulder. Annie handed him the rod.

  "Good luck," she said, as he slipped down the bank into the river. "Catch a big one."

  Clay waved as he waded into deeper water. Annie again followed him, moving along the bank as he waded upstream. She hated to leave when noon came. She called a good-bye to him and received a distracted wave in return.

  Chapter Eight

  "Hey, CeCe, you're wanted up at the Big House."

  She put down the magazine and pushed herself out of the chair. I feel like shit. She'd missed her morning ride, and her body was complaining. She'd done yoga with Kristi, but it hadn't helped much. Running two miles hadn't worked either, mostly because she couldn't run flat out on the gravel road or the trail. And there was no way she'd run along the highway. It was dangerous enough riding her bike there.

  Uncle Ward was waiting for her on the path to the cookshack. He wore a big grin.

  "You rang?" She knew she sounded snotty, but she just didn't care. He'd promised to see that someone took her to Idaho Falls to shop for a bike, and so far he'd done nothing.

  "More or less. Let's go to the cookshack."

  "I already ate." She'd munched on an energy bar and washed it down with a Coke. Since she wasn't riding, she didn't need a big breakfast.

  "Well, I haven't. We can talk while I do."

  A UPS truck was just pulling away as they approached. Didn't think they came out in the wilderness.

  They were all supposed to go in the front door and not cut through the kitchen, but maybe he could get away with it. Still, she was a little nervous. All the adults were staring at her. Hey. He did it. I'm just following him. But she didn't say it out loud, because Gran was smiling.

  She'd already caught on that if Gran was happy, everybody was happy.

  Well, everybody but Jennifer and Angela, anyhow.

  Stuffed shirt and his wife were eating breakfast at the table closest to the kitchen, and Uncle Ben and Aunt Louisa were sitting clear across the room with the hot guy who'd come in yesterday. Evan was his name, wasn't it?

  I wouldn't mind getting to know him better. He's not as cute as Owen, though.

  Instead of stopping at a table, Uncle ward led her all the way through. He stopped at the front door. "I did some calling yesterday, and couldn't find a bike your size in Idaho Falls or Pocatello. Not one you'd want to ride."

  "Didn't think you would." She knew she sounded as bratty as Angela, but she figured she had a right to. It was going to be a week before she could train, and that meant--

  "So I called Mrs. Winthrop."

  "How--"

  "Your dad gave me her name as an emergency contact. She said you have an old bike that you've been trying to sell. I know it's not as good as the one John killed, but at least it'll fit you." He opened the door and gestured outside.

  Leaning against the porch railing was a big box. Big enough to contain a bike. She couldn't believe her eyes.

  "CeCe, John's going to replace your titanium bike--his insurance should cover most of it--and I kind of twisted Eric's arm to pay the overnight freight on this one. It wasn't cheap."

  She caught the twitch of his lips before he went real sober. "I hope you have what you need to put it together. I understand they had to take the handlebars and pedals off."

  "You got me a bike? My own bike?"

  "I hope that's what's in the box. Why don't you check and see?" He held out a big Swiss Army knife.

  It didn't take her long. A few minutes later her trusty old Bridgestone, scarred and dusty, was lying on the lawn. She sat beside it, holding the handlebars in her arms. "I... Oh, God, Uncle Ward, I... Thanks."

  He came down on one knee beside her. Funny how he suddenly looked all blurry. "Just be careful when you get out on the highway, huh?" His arms went around her tight, kind of like her mom's used to.

  She nodded, knowing she was leaving a trail of tears on his shirt.

  * * * *

  Six vehicles emerged from a cloud of dust at the bottom of the steep grade. They pulled to a stop in front of an elegant log building, gingerbread trimmed, with a wide front porch. Children of all sizes burst from five of them.

  "We're here," Gib Ogilvy called to his passengers. "You all can wake up now."

  Annie forced her eyes open, stretched a neck that was sore from her head's having fallen crooked against the seat back. Her spine was wet where it had been in contact with the upholstery and her face felt flushed.

  "A fine thing, sleeping through all the scenery," her father commented with a smile at his wife, who stretched, yawned, and shook her head. "I'm nothing but a glorified taxi driver."

  Her mother smiled sympathetically. "Take it as a compliment on your driving, love. We all felt so secure that we went to sleep instead of watching your every move."

  "It must be the fresh air," Hetty said to Annie as they climbed out of the back seat. "I've slept more since we got here than I have in weeks."

  "More likely the altitude. Air's thinner and cleaner than Seattle's."

  "Could be, Uncle Gib, but I prefer to think that I'm having withdrawal symptoms from city air." Hetty spread her arms, took a deep breath. "No automobile exhaust, no seawater smell, just pure pine essence and whiffs of sagebrush. I hate it."

  "Sure you do," Gib said, "and you also miss the noise, the crowds, and the concrete."

  Hetty grinned and winked. Annie ignored their joking and headed toward an opening in the pine trees.

  The road had only brought them halfway down the canyon. The lip of the falls was still a good distance below them, far enough that the roar of falling water did not completely mask the happy shouts of the children. Annie made her way down the steep path, climbing carefully over the rounded boulders that cropped out every few feet. "Oh, how marvelous!" She had forgotten how spectacular the view was from here. How long had it been since she'd seen it?

  Too long.

  The river, broad and tranquil at Harriman Park, here was rushing and alive. Upstream of the falls huge boulders broke up the water; downstream the white foam trailed away from the churning pool into which the river fell.

  Several more bends in the steep, boulder strewn path brought her to a rocky platform overlooking the falls. Across the river, she could see the varied greens on a sheer cliff constantly wetted by spray from the falls. Mosses, ferns, and rock-hugging herbs and shrubs grew on every tiny ledge, from each crack in the basalt wall. She looked down, over the lip of the falls.

  "It's a long way down there," she said to herself, feeling her body involuntarily sway toward the edge.

  "About a hundred and fourteen feet," Hetty said, behind her. At Annie's startled glance, she grinned. "I did my homework. Your dad's got a Forest Service map of the area. I read about the falls this morning." She grimaced. "Come on, let's back off. I don't like being this close to the edge."

  Annie, always drawn to heights, remembered that her cousin hated them. She followed Hetty back along another path which led them to a second overlook, this one well back from the cliff's edge, but still with a good view. They could see the whole face of the falls and farther downstream to where the river curved to the left and out of sight. There was a rounded boulder just big enough to seat them both in cool shade.

  Annie sat, mesmerized by the movement of the water and its roar. How would it feel, she wondered, to throw herself into that churning cauldron at the base of the falls and let it batter her into unconsciousness? Would she have time to regret her action? Or would she fall into oblivion with relief at the end of pain?

  Eventually a hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. Hetty was shaking her gently. "Hea
ds up. Here comes your mom."

  "We wondered where you two had disappeared to," Thea said, gentle reproach in her tone. "Do you want to hike down to the foot of the falls with us? Everyone's going, even Gran."

  Annie grabbed the first excuse that occurred to her. Her calves had been sore this morning, a reminder that she'd hiked four miles yesterday. "I don't think so, Mom. I'm not in the best of shape. I'll just sit here and enjoy the view. "

  Her mother's mouth twitched. To Annie's relief, she didn't respond with the obvious remark about beneficial exercise. Instead she looked to Hetty.

  "We travel agents only climb cliffs if we get paid to do it, Aunt Thea. I'll keep Annie company." A look of understanding passed between them.

  Annie ignored it. Let them have their little conspiracy. She just wished Hetty would go with the hikers. Even her nonjudgmental company was more than she wanted this afternoon. She should have insisted on staying back at the compound.

  As if Gran would have allowed that. Damn it, I'm a grown woman. Why can't I stand up to my grandmother?

  The family streamed by them, even Serhilda, who wore a pair of borrowed sneakers and a billed cap with a John Deere logo on it. Somehow they made her look younger, less sophisticated. They didn't make her look happy about the hike, but Annie assumed that like herself, Serhilda had no choice.

  As if reading her mind, Hetty said, "Want to bet she wishes she was back in L.A.? Poor kid."

  "How old is she, do you suppose?" Ever since Hetty had told her who Serhilda was, she'd been dying to learn more about her. Usually secrets didn't last long at family gatherings, so she'd fully expected to hear more than she really wanted to know about Serhilda and Aunt Frances on the way up here. Had she slept through all the good stuff?

  "Beats me. I thought somewhere around your age at first sight. After this morning, I'm thinking she's closer to Kristi's age--twenty or so." Leaning back, Hetty closed her eyes. "My turn for a nap."

  "Oh, no you don't. I want to know more about this new cousin of ours. How come we never heard of her?"

  "Maybe because no one knew. Your folks didn't even know she was Frances' daughter 'til I told them. Yesterday Ward was as surprised as we were. Maybe Frances never told Gran about her."

  "Oh, right. That's pretty far-fetched."

  "Everything I've ever heard about Frances is far-fetched." With a gaping yawn, Hetty pulled her hat low. "Maybe Joss isn't so bad after all. At least she claims me."

  For several minutes Annie watched a hawk circle lazily above the falls. Her mind drifted, then fastened on something Hetty had said. She elbowed her cousin. "You're a terrible liar, you know. What about that week long pack trip you went on last summer?"

  Hetty grinned. "That was different. I went with Simon, and that made up for all the exertion."

  "Which one was Simon? The lawyer or the stevedore?"

  "Simon is a lawyer. He started talking about marriage and a cottage in the suburbs, so I gave him his walking papers. I've never dated a stevedore. Vern was a construction worker. A real hunk."

  "So when did you start seeing what's-his-name? The guy who's coming on Thursday."

  "Frank? Oh, he's been around since May."

  "Het, what's your problem with marriage? Don't you ever want children?"

  Hetty stared at the falls and did not answer for a long time.

  They hadn't seen much of each other the past few years, but growing up they'd been close. Closer than most sisters. Once upon a time, they'd shared dreams of the future, and then life had interfered. Neither had followed the path they'd so confidently planned, back when they were in their teens.

  Now Hetty had a brittleness to her, in spite of the warmth Annie knew was at her core. She wondered what had caused it, but wouldn't ask. Still, she hated seeing that uncharacteristic, lost expression on her cousin's face. She took Hetty's hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

  "Don't answer if you don't want to. It's none of my business. Besides, I'm the last person who should be giving advice about marriage or motherhood."

  "It's nobody's business but mine," Hetty said, the cheerful breeziness back in her voice. Her expression softened into vulnerability. "Yes, I do want kids. I don't know if I'll ever have them, though. I'm not at all sure I'd be a good mother. The way I live is no kind of an environment to bring a kid into."

  Remembering the times Hetty had been dumped on her parents while Aunt Joss had another 'nervous breakdown', Annie had to agree that her cousin's childhood had not been easy. Now she knew that Aunt Joss had been drying out during her absences, not recovering her mental health." I don't think you should let that stop you. You're not your mother. I've never known anyone as sane as you"

  "I wasn't talking about Joss's drinking. I'm a travel agent, remember. I travel a lot."

  "You're the boss. Surely you could let others do the traveling."

  "Not really, at least not all the time. I can't sell trips to places I've never been."

  "What you're really saying--at least what I hear you saying--is that you wouldn't give up your exciting, glamorous job for a family. Maybe you don't want children as badly as you say you do."

  "Look, Annie, I don't want to talk about it, okay? Right now I'm not ready to make any commitments. Leave it at that."

  "Sure. Whatever you say." Was Hetty subject to the same self doubts and insecurities as she was? No, not breezy, self-confident Hetty.

  The rest of their party came straggling back up the path by and by. All the little kids were bouncing, but Serhilda and some of the adults were puffing. Annie and Hetty fell in beside their grandmother, unobtrusively giving her support over the boulders in the path to the parking area.

  "The trail was steeper than I expected," Gran admitted when they had opened the sliding door of Eric's minivan and seated her in the doorway. "Or I'm not as young as I once was." She nodded her thanks for the cup of lemonade Louisa handed her.

  "You're ageless, Gran," Louisa commented. "I think you could out-hike me any day of the week."

  "I doubt it. I don't go out and scrabble around the desert every weekend like you and Ben do. Where is he, by the way?"

  "Here he comes," Annie said. She had to laugh at the sight of her uncle, his pockets bulging, his bald head glowing red in the filtered light through the pines, and his eyes looking somewhere far away from the path under his feet. When his foot struck a rock and sent it tumbling off the path, Annie said, "It's a wonder he doesn't break a leg. Doesn't he ever watch where he's walking, Aunt Louisa?"

  "Of course. It just looks like he's somewhere else. Believe me, he never misses so much as a pebble in the path." Louisa tucked the plastic cups they had drunk from back into the wicker basket. "Look at him, bringing back another fifty pounds of rocks." She sighed, but it was a loving sigh. Annie felt a frisson of envy at their happy marriage.

  The sun was hot, even here, halfway to the bottom of the canyon, and the cicadas were buzzing. Annie felt a great need to find a shady spot and take a nap. Instead, leaning mindlessly against the side of the minivan, she half listened to the conversation among her relatives as they drained the gallon container of lemonade. Finally Gran asked, "Did you see where the children went, Annie?"

  She had not, but her father had. "They're all up at the Lodge, probably driving the docents crazy. Are we ready to go?" At their nodding assents, he whistled shrilly.

  Children seemed to burst from everywhere. Ben's three and Adam and Jeremy came running from behind the Lodge. Kristi strolled out from the other side, accompanied by Owen. Her little sister had definitely made a conquest, although Kristi treated Owen no different from the younger boys. Poor Owen. And poor CeCe, who was so clearly smitten with him. Young love... Too bad its promises were so seldom realized.

  The lower falls were not nearly as spectacular, even though they were rockier and the lip was more irregular. Annie joined the others in posing for photos at the viewpoint, but couldn't share their high spirits. She wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else, preferably alo
ne, silent.

  Silent. Like this morning beside the river, watching Clay's graceful moves. In his company all her troubles seemed to retreat. She was looking forward to tomorrow. How long had it been since she'd been this excited about anything?

  Too long.

  * * * *

  "You rode along here yesterday. No way!"

  "Yes, way. It's only about thirty miles to Ashland. And it's mostly downhill." She shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "It was really early, so there wasn't much traffic."

  Owen stared at CeCe. She was such a little bit of a thing, not even up to his shoulder. She had great legs, though. Sleek with muscle, but not bulked up or anything. But still... Thirty miles on a bike?

  "So how'd you get back? We stopped in Ashland on the way up. There's a big hill just outside of town. You're not gonna tell me you came that way."

  "Okay, I won't." Her elbow nudged him in the ribs. "I flew. Is that easier to believe?"

  "Jeez, CeCe, I'm serious. Who brought you back?" Nothing was going to convince him she'd been able to ride a bike up that big hill.

  Her eyes narrowed and she just looked at him like she was trying to figure out where to hit him.

  They turned into the parking lot at the Lower Falls just then, and the resulting confusion almost made him forget how pissed he was that she was yanking his chain. The old guy with the pockets full of rocks was saying something about the Yellowstone Caldera. It was kind of interesting, so he hung around and listened.

  CeCe and Char hung with Hetty and the sad one--Annie.

  Fine with him.

  * * * *

  They got back to the ranch about four. Tonight was Aunt Louisa and Uncle Ben's turn to cook, but she'd volunteered to lend a hand, since she wasn't assigned to any particular night. She was shredding cabbage for coleslaw when her mother came into the kitchen.

  "Did you bring your boots?" Thea said.

  "Just my hikers. Why?"

  "Charlie just called. His morning riders cancelled, so he can take us out tomorrow."

  "I have other plans," she said, with some regret. She had not been on a horse since before her marriage to Walter and had looked forward to riding this week. Unfortunately no one had thought to ask Charlie to reserve time for the family. He'd been booked solid, morning, afternoon, and evening, for the entire week.