Sweetness in the Dark

by W. B. Martin

  “But you are responsible for the personal advisors you choose. Am I correct that they serve at your pleasure?”

  “Of course. Each Cabinet member personally chooses their advisors,” the President answered. Paul stood wondering where this was leading. He quickly found out.

  “Then you condone people working for you living in sin. Allowing unmarried fornicators in your administration is a serious concern and would raise questions on your judgment,” Mrs. Streeter said. “My readership encompasses much of the South and the Midwest. They would take a dim view of their representatives aligning themselves with such types.”

  Paul was stunned. He looked right at Amanda who was near tears. Was it me this woman was talking about? he thought. Paul was afraid of the answer.

  “Mrs. Streeter. My staff and advisors’ personal life is private. I haven’t taken the time nor do I intend to inquire of people’s sleeping arrangements,” the President answered. Paul could feel the tension this assertion caused him.

  “Well, for your political future, maybe you need to be asking the question.”

  “If that’s what our country is coming to, then my political career will be over. I will not spy on my staff. And I believe the American people will not go there either,” the President barked. He turned and left the stage.

  The press all yelled questions at the departing President, to no avail. Paul realized that he was in the crosshairs now.

  “Dr. Kendall, what’s the truth about this reporter’s charge? Are there fornicators in this administration?” one yelled.

  It was too much for Amanda. She broke for the side door before Paul could reach her. He was stopped by the charging crush of the press who were demanding answers. John rushed over and helped rescue his brother. They both exited the side door that the President had used. The Secret Service blocked any antagonist from following.

  “Mr. President, I’m very sorry about that,” Paul said.

  “If they think they can get away with that, they’ve got a lesson to learn. I compromised with them over the gold standard, but if they want to ram their morality down the country’s throat, they’ve got a fight on their hands.” The President spewed to no one in particular. Noticing Paul standing beside him, he added. “You better take care of that woman of yours.”

  “We didn’t mean to bring this spotlight on your administration, Sir,” Paul offered.

  “Oh that. Pay no attention to the rants of the press.”

  Paul looked around for Amanda. A staff member told him she had hit the door running, with tears streaking her face.

  * * *

  It took Paul a week of searching before he finally located her, or at least discovered where she had gone. Searching in all her old haunts, Paul finally remembered her brother worked for the Forest Service in Challis.

  Driving to Challis, he had to work to get his answer. Amanda had left strict instructions with her brother that she didn’t want to see anyone and it took some male bonding to get Paul an answer. The brother finally admitted he had offered her the use of Butt’s Point Lookout Tower for a respite from any press scrutiny.

  Driving north through Salmon, Paul turned left at North Fork and drove down the Salmon River. He returned to the mouth of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River where the adventure that had been the past two years really had begun. Parking at the same Corn Creek Campground where Paul had confirmed that ‘the Pulse’ had taken place, he called Salmon River Lodge on the opposite side of the river.

  A small row boat was soon launched and rowed over to pick up Paul.

  “Hiking up to Butt’s Point, huh?” the ranch hand asked as he ferried Paul back across.

  “Yes, is it far?”

  “Depends whether you’re looking at a map or not. On a flat map, don’t look too far. If you look up and see that rocky ridge way up there, it’s a fair climb.”

  Paul looked straight up from the boat. “Up there? How much of a climb?”

  “Better than four thousand feet. Seventy-seven switchbacks to be exact. I take the horse pack train up into Frank Church Basin each week with the dudes. Not bad, on a horse,” he offered.

  Paul looked up at the monster hill in front of him. He then looked down the river canyon at the setting sun. The climb would be mostly in the dark.

  “Hope you brought a flashlight, or you’re faster than you look. Not much daylight left,” the ranch hand said. “Hate to be looking for you because you stumbled off the trail up there. As you can tell, it’s a long way down.”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks again for the boat ride.”

  “Not to worry. The woman that came through here last week swam over and got the boat herself. Said she couldn’t wait for me to get done with my chores. She was in some hurry. Good looker, though.”

  “You saw her then?” Paul asked. He was anxious for confirmation that she was up the hill.

  “Sure did. Saw her in the all over, if you know what I mean. Sunbathing, naked as a jaybird. On the walkway around the fire tower. Didn’t even try to cover up as I rode by on my horse. Just waved, sort of friendly like. Took the dudes quite a spell to calm down after that.”

  “That sounds like her,” Paul said. Amanda was definitely up the hill, he thought.

  Paul lifted his day pack and headed in the direction that his new friend indicated. The trail took off up the hill on the other side of the large sandy beach they had landed on.

  Paul started counting the switchbacks as he climbed the hill. The sun continued to set as the trail wound back and forth. Sweating from the exercise, Paul stopped for a water break. He had counted twenty switchbacks so far. Fifty-seven to go, he thought. In the dimming light, he pulled out his flashlight.

  But the trail was obvious, even in the dark. Horses had been using the trail for years and Paul could follow it by smell alone. He put the flashlight away at the next water break. The switchbacks continued in an uneven manner. Some would come in groups and Paul got encouraged.

  Then long stretches of trail would wind its way around the ridge until a switchback finally appeared. But the trail climbed steadily. The stars came out and the brilliant Idaho night sky grew as Paul climbed higher. More and more sky became visible the further he climbed toward the ridge top. The night sky glowed with no interruption from any manmade light anywhere to be seen.

  Finally, Paul counted out the seventy-seventh switchback and stopped to look around. He was surrounded by trees with no fire tower in sight. He continued walking and figured it must be about eleven o’clock.

  As he wound his way up the curving trail, the sky suddenly opened up as the trees dropped off. He could make out the outline of a ridge as it headed toward the southwest. And just above him was an outline of a structure, but not what he had been expecting.

  There was no tower of any kind; just what looked to be a small two-story house. The roof outline in the dark resembled what he had seen of fire towers, but this one was a pygmy. He walked toward the building, not sure if this was the right place.

  In his haste at leaving Boise, he had left without a sleeping bag or tent. So, if this wasn’t the right place, he would be stuck bivouacking against the building’s wall until sunrise. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

  Retrieving his flashlight, he saw the gravel path leaving the main trail. As he walked up the gravel path, his boots crunched loudly. A set of stairs leading up to the top floor was in front of him. Should he climb the steps? he thought. He didn’t know for sure if this was Amanda’s fire tower.

  “Who’s there?” a voice called from above. A familiar voice, Paul thought. Before he could answer, the voice added. “I have a 357 Magnum aimed down the stairs and will use it if you take one step up.”

  That’s my girl, Paul thought.

  Disguising his voice, Paul said. “Don’t shoot lady. I was hiking in Morrison Park and seem to have gotten lost.” Morrison Park was the park next to Boise State University campus.

  “What the… ? How did you end up here?”

&n
bsp; Paul couldn’t contain his laughter anymore and burst out laughing. A lantern in the tower came to life and a face popped over the handrail. “Paul, what in the world? How did you find me? Oh, my brother. He’s the only one who knew where I was. Wait ‘til I see him.”

  Still chuckling, Paul asked. “Could a stranger find a little shelter here? It’s getting chilly out here and I’m sweaty from that climb.”

  “Did you drag Mrs. Streeter and the Anti-Fornication League along with you? I can do without her.”

  “Yeah, so I hear. Thrilling the tourists with the Idaho nymph legend. I’m surprised the dudes aren’t all camped at your doorstep waiting for another naked sighting,” Paul teased.

  “Watch it, you’re on thin ice around here. How I live my life is my business. If horse packers get a thrill because I’m sun bathing, I’ve got my .357 ready if they think there’s more than that available.”

  “Not me, I’m here to see the woman I love. Why did you run out on me last week? We can handle those people. And we can do it better together,” Paul offered.

  “I didn’t want to be the one that sullied your position with the President. I know how important that is to you,” Amanda said.

  “You need to know something right now. Everything else in my life takes second spot to my feelings for you. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me,” Paul explained.

  “Are you asking me to marry you?” Amanda asked. “If you are, you’re not being very romantic about it.”

  “Well, it’s hard to be romantic at the bottom of a set of stairs with a .357 Magnum threatening me if I take one step,” Paul said.

  They both broke out laughing. Receiving permission to climb the stairs, Paul reached Amanda. Kneeling down, he properly proposed marriage. He then asked if she wanted him to go and ask her father for her hand in matrimony.

  “No, that’s not necessary, but asking on your knees is a nice gesture. I won’t have to shoot you now.”

  “Spoken like the woman of my dreams,” Paul threw back.

  * * *

  Paul awoke the next morning to one of the most spectacular views in Idaho. Butt’s Point Lookout stood on a rocky ridge that overlooked the Salmon Canyon. From the walkway surrounding the second story, one could look straight down and see the Salmon River close to where Paul had crossed.

  Looking out, the lookout held a commanding view of northern Idaho. To the east stood the Bitterroot Mountains in Montana. To the west, the Wallowa Mountains in Oregon stood out. In between, Hell’s Canyon fell away.

  “I’m not sure I want to leave,” Paul said.

  “We’ll run out of food soon, unless we can get the packers to bring some in to us.”

  “I have a better idea. Let’s head home to Bruneau, have a quiet wedding and then head to Hawaii for a honeymoon,” Paul said.

  Amanda smiled at her memories of Hawaii. She remembered the warm weather and their swims in the sea. She smiled at the thought of the Australian Prime Minister almost catching them skinny dipping. Amanda put her arms around Paul and kissed him. He needed no further answer.

  Chapter 42

  Bruneau, Idaho

  The wedding quickly became the social event of the decade in tiny Bruneau, Idaho. Paul and Amanda had decided to have a simple ceremony with just family members. They had found a quiet spot on the Kendall Ranch for the service. It stood along the banks of the Bruneau River under some Locust trees interspersed with large poplar and juniper trees.

  The family began mowing the grass and making the area worthy of a wedding. Chairs were borrowed from the Bruneau Baptist Church for the day.

  Everything was set, at least up until the time that Paul learned that the President would be attending. Suddenly their small wedding was turned upside down as they struggled to keep it manageable.

  The community of Bruneau cooperated in the couple’s request and the Owyhee County Sheriff joined the effort. Even ‘Big Bob’ Caldwell, Sheriff of adjoining Elmore County offered deputies for the event. The three roads leading to Bruneau would be closed prior to the wedding and only invited guests would be allowed into town. The largest hall, the Bruneau Grange Hall, was reserved for the reception.

  On top of the wedding, John and Julie had planned to have their first child baptized the Friday evening before. They found out the President would arrive a day early and attend their event, also. With the President of the UAS in attendance, a simple baptism and wedding in Bruneau, Idaho had turned into a media event.

  John Ewing and his wife Julie had wanted a simple ceremony at the local church to celebrate the birth of their first child. But when the President had gotten wind of the affair, he changed his itinerary and added the baptism to the wedding plans.

  The Congress had recently taken up his initiative on encouraging large families. The initiative was to start the recovery of the nation’s population that had been lost due to ‘the Pulse’. A new baby being baptized was just the event the President wanted to emphaize his policy.

  The next day, Amanda and Paul ended up with a quiet wedding by the river in spite of their important guest. A gloriously pleasant September Saturday, combined with the gurgling sound of the slow river in the background made a perfect setting.

  After the service the newly married couple moved their celebration to the Grange Hall, as food and drinks were laid out on tables. A small clutch of reporters who had been kept from the wedding service itself were allowed to join the reception.

  Things were going smoothly until Julie came and said to Paul, “You need to do something. Kevin is buttonholing the President.”

  Paul and Amanda were sitting at the head table greeting well-wishers while the party buzzed around them.

  “Julie, it’s OK. The President can handle himself,” Paul said.

  “But you know Kevin. His ideas are a little over the top,” Julie threw back.

  Paul knew her concern would only grow, so he stood up and headed over to escape the continued haranguing. As he approached the two, he could tell the discussion was intense.

  “Explain to me again. I think I understand what you’re saying, but it is a little startling,” the President said.

  Oh God, Paul thought. Kevin is on his soapbox again. Ever since he had reached Bruneau from his brush with mortality on the East Coast, he had settled into the community. Glad to be around people who had not witnessed the horrors of life after ‘the Pulse’, he had joined in local events. Eventually he met a local woman who had been left widowed with two children.

  But as he worked on his new girlfriend’s ranch near the Kendall place, his thoughts turned to what the massive Coronal Mass Ejection that had crushed the Earth’s electronics implied. It fit with what he had been working on before ‘the Pulse’.

  Kevin Shepardson had started college life as a history major. Getting a Master’s Degree in history had led him into the PhD program at Georgetown University in Washington, D.C. But it was his sister’s interest in astrophysics that had diverted him from a life of strictly history.

  While his main interest was European Medieval History, Julie’s study of the sun led him to the work of Piers Corbyn. That discovery had changed his life. It would soon change the world.

  Corbyn was a British astrophysicist that had turned a rather obscure science into a moneymaker. Corbyn’s business revolved around studying current sunspot activity and then comparing that information to a point in history with a similar sun spot activity pattern. When he pinpointed a similar pattern, Corbyn would then look at the weather records for that time in history.

  He made money on his work by placing bets on future weather activity. In 2009, the official weather forecasting service for Great Britain predicted a mild winter. Corbyn, through his work, predicted correctly the coldest one in a hundred years. He made money investing on the difference.

  Kevin had become consumed by Corbyn’s work and became quite proficient at matching his forecasts. Using his knowledge of medieval history, he worked wi
th Julie by email on monitoring the sun’s activity. He soon made enough money on his future predictions to fund both his and Julie’s graduate school work.

  But now here he was cajoling the President with his theories. Paul decided he’d better intervene.

  “Kevin, the President has many friends here. Please let some others enjoy this time with him.”

  “No Paul, this is quite interesting,” the President interrupted. “Please continue.”

  “Mr. President, I don’t take you for one of the global warming true believers. Am I right?” Kevin asked.

  “At least not anthropogenic global warming. If the sun is causing warming, I would be open to that. But man-made? No way.”

  “Good, I don’t have to start at the beginning then,” Kevin said. “But are you familiar with global cooling, sir?”

  “Well, I know about the Ice Age. And the Little Ice Age that Europe suffered through after the Middle Ages.”

  “Well, hear me out then.” Kevin was animated now as he talked. “We just experienced the largest CME in recorded history. A Z class solar flare just doesn’t happen every day, but we got to live through one.”

  “And I’m happy they don’t happen frequently,” the President said.

  Kevin continued to explain how solar activity happened in eleven-year cycles and that the current cycle was designated a solar maximum. Solar flares would be at their maximum strength as witnessed by the one that had produced ‘the Pulse’.

  Paul noticed others had gathered around and were listening intently to the conversation. A couple of the reporters were leaning in and taking notes. Great, Paul thought. He should have broken up this little confab as soon as he had walked over. He glanced at Amanda and received a glare in return.

  But Kevin continued with his talk, “Mr. President, we are currently in Cycle 24. We are approaching the end of an eleven year cycle. Have you given any thought to what Cycle 25 will bring?”