It was nearly a month since she and Ed had arrived and there hadn’t been many days like this when they’d all been off work at the same time. Even so, Connor felt that he knew her, that somehow he’d known her a long time. She was one of those women who touched you a lot, not as if she were coming on to you but in a natural, unconscious way. If she was making a point, she’d put a hand on your arm and although he knew it meant nothing, that it was just a friendly, sisterly kind of thing to do, it always had an effect on him. And when she’d given him that hug at the rodeo, he hadn’t known where to look.
‘Connor?’
He heard his mother’s voice. They were all looking at him.
‘Hello?’ Ed said. ‘Is there anybody home?’
‘I’m sorry. What was that?’
‘Your ma wanted to know where we’re going climbing tomorrow.’
‘Oh. I figured we’d go down to the Bitterroots.’
‘So you’re a climber too, Julia?’ Connor’s mother said.
‘I’ve done a little. I’m not very good.’
‘She’s terrific,’ Ed said. ‘It’s like watching Spider-Woman.’
‘I wish.’
‘Well, you watch yourself with these two young lunatics here.’
‘If you’ll forgive me for saying it, Mrs Ford, but after watching you today, it seems like it may be in the genes.’
‘In the Wranglers,’ Ed said. Connor’s mother smiled.
‘Listen,’ she said. ‘There’s airplanes, there’s mountains and there’s horses. You tell me which it’s smarter to fall off.’
They had coffee and paid the check. Connor’s mother asked if they wanted to stay the night up at the ranch but Connor said they’d better head back over to Missoula to get an early start on the mountain. They said their goodbyes in the parking lot. Connor’s mother handed her rodeo trophy to Julia.
‘Mrs Ford, I can’t possibly take this,’ Julia protested.
‘’Course you can. I got too many of the darned things already.’
Julia looked at Connor.
‘Take it,’ he said. ‘She means it.’
‘Well. Okay. Thank you.’ She gave Connor’s mother a kiss. ‘I’ll treasure it.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, climbing into her truck. ‘If it was worth melting down, I’d have kept it myself.’
They drove south with the night falling soft and blue around them. Away to their right the Front Range stood out against the last red ribbon of the dying day like the ramparts of some dread empire. Through the open windows came the smell of cooling earth and sage long baked by the sun. Connor’s old Chevy rattled and creaked its way along the blacktop following the tunnels of its own headlights through groves of cottonwood and up into the shadowed folds of the badlands.
They sat three abreast, as they now always did, with Julia between the two men. She was cradling the trophy in her lap while Ed held forth on the marvel of Connor’s mother and how he was definitely going to write a musical about her. It would be called Queen of the Red Dust. Connor asked if that would be before or after all the others Ed was definitely going to write, the one about smoke jumping (Hearts of Fire) and that other idea of his about the psycho piano teacher who murders his pupils. Julia said she hadn’t heard about that one and Ed started explaining it. It was called Choppin, he said.
‘Think Sweeney Todd meets Amadeus.’ He didn’t get much further because Julia began to laugh and it was so infectious that soon they were all at it and Connor’s lungs began to hurt as badly as they sometimes did when he was on a fire.
The laughter seemed to drain them for afterward they fell silent and sat as if hypnotized watching the flutter of moths in the beam of the headlights. They crossed the divide at Rogers Pass and as they rounded a bend they found a herd of mule deer, seven mothers and their young, standing in the road. Connor stopped the truck and the deer stood for a long time staring back, their eyes shining like opals and their long ears atwitch. Slowly, pair by pair, they moved off the highway and melted into the night.
They passed through Lincoln and by then Ed was snoring softly, his head propped against the pillar of the door. For some miles more neither Connor nor Julia spoke but there was nothing awkward in their silence. He’d never been one for small talk and he’d already noticed that she seemed to be the same. When at last she did speak it was to ask him, in that direct way she had, about his father. She wanted to know what he had been like and Connor told her that he’d been a good man, quiet and gentle and caring.
‘I guess a lot of people thought it was my mother who was the strong one, because she’s always been, you know, kind of upfront.’
Julia laughed. ‘I noticed.’
‘Yeah. Well. She speaks her mind even when it might be better not to. But, underneath it all, it was my dad she depended on. After he died, for a long time she was just lost. I remember the morning of the funeral, the doctor gave her these pills, tranquilizers or something, I guess, so that she’d be able to hold it together at the service. Anyhow, she went and took too many of the darned things and so when everyone showed up at the church and came up to her to pay their respects and said how sorry they were, she was laughing and joking and saying, “Hell, it’s okay, when you gotta go, you gotta go.”’
Connor shook his head and smiled at the memory. ‘It was terrible. You know, kind of funny, but terrible. But afterward, for a long time, she was in a real bad way.’
‘That must have been tough for you.’
‘Uh-huh. For a while.’
‘You don’t have any brothers and sisters, do you?’
‘No. They tried, I think. For years. But it never happened. You?’
‘No. Just me.’
‘And your mom and dad?’
‘My mom lives in Brooklyn. My dad left when I was twelve years old. Just upped and went.’
She left it hanging in the air awhile and from her tone he got the feeling that the loss of her father was as much of an issue for her as the loss of his own was for him. He waited for her to go on.
‘He lives in Germany now, married to a much younger woman. You know, the whole cliché: younger, taller, blonder, prettier. She’s probably great. I’ve never met her. And I haven’t seen him in, God, must be five or six years now. He calls sometimes at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sends a postcard now and again. I don’t really know him anymore.’
‘What kind of work does he do?’
‘Construction or something. I’m not even sure of that.’
‘Did he have more children?’
‘No.’
‘And your mom?’
‘She’s a trapeze artist in a circus.’
Connor looked at her. ‘For real?’
‘Yeah, she does this act, you know? Dives through hoops of fire, that kind of stuff.’ She saw the surprise on his face. ‘Hey, why should you be the only one with a superhero for a mother?’ She grinned. ‘Okay, she’s not. She’s a hairdresser. Has her own little salon in Brooklyn.’
‘And that’s where you grew up?’
‘Yeah. She’s great. Very Italian. Never stops talking. Has the most disastrous love life you could imagine. She’s like a lightning conductor for unsuitable men. I love her to bits.’
They talked the whole way back to Missoula. And all the time he couldn’t help being aware of her scent and of the warm press of her shoulder and her hip against his. They talked about his photography, about her work in Boston and about her trip to Africa the previous summer and how she’d loved the place and the people there. She said she wanted to go again one day, maybe even work there for a while. Connor said he had always wanted to go to Africa too and many other places besides and that he hoped one day he’d get the chance.
He asked her how things were going with the wilderness program and Julia told him about the Indian girl and what a great kid she was but how she was so closed in on herself that nobody seemed able to reach her. Connor said there was a smoke jumper, a full-blooded Blackfeet, whose brother worked w
ith troubled kids on the reservation in Browning.
‘I remember him saying these kids often don’t have any idea about their ancestors and what a remarkable culture they had. His brother tries to get them involved in reviving some of the traditions. Apparently it works real well. Maybe he could help you out somehow.’
Julia sounded interested so he promised to get the guy’s number for her. By now they were driving into Missoula and Connor found himself wishing the journey could last longer. He parked outside the apartment and switched off the engine and they sat for a moment looking at Ed who was still sleeping. Julia smiled as if to herself and in her eyes Connor could see the love she felt for his friend. He watched her lean across to kiss Ed gently on the cheek to wake him. And though he wanted to feel only happiness that these two good people should have found each other, Connor couldn’t quite suppress a dull twisting inside him that was not of jealousy but of some nameless kindred yearning.
Later, when they had sorted their gear for the climb and said their goodnights, he lay alone in the darkness, trying not to listen to the intimate murmur of their voices in the next room and to the creaking of the bed and trying to banish from his mind the images it conjured. And long after they had fallen silent and all he could hear was the rustle of the river through the open window, he lay awake staring at the ceiling and at the dappled shadows of the trees.
They set out before dawn and drove south with the mist curling from the Bitterroot River on their left and the sun lighting the tops of the mountains to their right. They parked and hiked west for two hours with the sun lifting behind them and warming their backs and sparkling on the skein of dew-drenched spider webs that veiled the brush around them. At last they came to the foot of a wall of gray rock that rose from the forest, sheer and slightly concave and riven with stained cracks that looked as if they had been chiseled by giants. Julia stood gazing up at it.
‘You guys have got to be kidding,’ she said.
Connor and Ed had climbed it several times before and they told her it wasn’t as daunting as it looked from down here and she shook her head and looked less than convinced. But without another word she swung her pack off and sat down on a rock and started to take off her boots and put on her climbing shoes and the two men did the same. Ed took out the little penlike syringe he always carried and gave himself a shot of insulin and they sat and ate some of the ham and cheese sandwiches that Julia had made before they set out. They stowed all but what they would need for the climb behind some rocks then put on their harnesses and roped up.
Connor led and Julia climbed behind him, and looking down at her on the very first pitch, he could see that she knew what she was doing. She had a good upright posture and moved with a nimble confidence, keeping her hands and arms at shoulder level.
By late morning the sun was hot and they stopped on a ledge above a narrow chimney they had climbed and shed their sweaters and drank from their water bottles and rested awhile.
‘Listen,’ Julia said. ‘Listen to the silence. Isn’t it amazing?’
She had tied her hair in a high ponytail and was wearing shorts and a yellow sleeveless top that showed her back and shoulders and didn’t quite conceal the cream straps of her bra. Her skin was tanned and flawless but for a small birthmark, like a dab of chocolate, just below the nape of her neck. She was smoothing sunscreen onto her upper arms and shoulders and talking to Ed while she did so about a tricky part of the chimney and Connor did his best not to look at her and at the curve of her breasts and instead turned to stare out over the forest that spread giddily below.
They climbed for another hour, up a second broader chimney then worked their way slowly around a massive overhang on a shelf so narrow that only the tips of their toes found purchase. After that the mountain was more friendly for a while but although it was more of a hike than a climb they stayed roped. They crossed a spine of rock to another part of the mountain with ravens swirling around them and below them, croaking in disdain. Then on they went and on and up through a field of fallen boulders strangely sculpted by the wind and rain so that they looked like a colony of sleeping dinosaurs.
The final part of the climb was the hardest and once Julia lost her grip and slipped. She gave a little cry and there was a clatter of sliding rocks, and Connor, belaying her, braced himself and called out ‘below’ to warn Ed and the rope jerked tight and held and he looked down to see her swinging for a moment in midair and Ed’s anxious face below. She had slipped only a few feet and she quickly found her footing and the three of them kept still and silent until the last echo of the displaced rocks faded far below them.
‘Sorry, guys,’ she said.
‘Are you okay?’ Ed asked.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
She looked up at Connor but said nothing. She rested awhile to gather herself and then she climbed the rest of the pitch as if it were nothing. As she neared the top, Connor reached down and took hold of her wrist and she held his and he hauled her up onto the ledge. She tied off and stood there beside him, belaying Ed as he climbed toward them. She was breathing hard and her skin glistened with sweat. Connor watched her and she sensed it and smiled at him and he smiled back. When he had about twenty feet more to climb, Ed took a short rest and while they waited for him Connor squatted down on his haunches and looked out over the forest. He felt her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her. The sun was flaring behind her and he had to squint to see her face.
‘Thanks for helping me down there,’ she said.
‘You helped yourself. You climb real well.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
They reached the summit an hour later. There was a small pinnacle and below it a platform of undulating rock some twenty feet across and decorated with patches of gray-green and amber-colored lichen. The platform fell away sheer on three sides and some who had climbed here before had carved their initials on the side of the pinnacle along with the dates they did it. There were higher peaks all around but still it seemed as if the entire world lay unfurled below them.
Ed told Connor to take some photographs and so he got out his Leica and lined them up in the best place, where he could look down on them a little and make the most of the view. Through the viewfinder he watched them hold each other and press their cheeks together and smile at the camera. He took three pictures, altering the angle each time.
‘Now one of you two,’ Ed said.
Connor shook his head. ‘I’m the photographer around here.’
He had never liked having his picture taken. But Ed insisted so he reluctantly handed over the camera and took his place beside Julia. He felt shy and awkward and didn’t know whether to put his arm around her but she calmly made the decision for him and circled hers around his waist and so he put his around her shoulder and felt her move closer to him so that their hips pressed together. He could feel the warmth and sleekness of her skin all along the inside of his forearm and on the palm of his hand that cupped her shoulder and the air he breathed was laced with the hot sweet smell of her.
‘Come on, man, lighten up,’ Ed called. ‘You look like somebody died.’
Julia looked up at him and smiled and he smiled down at her and at that moment Ed clicked the button.
‘Okay, another one,’ he said. This time they looked at the camera. ‘That’s more like it.’
Connor felt something relax inside him. He told himself it was all right to feel the way he did. She was a beautiful woman and any man would feel the same. It was in no way a betrayal of Ed. He was simply aware of her, that was all. Ed took another picture and Julia let go of Connor and stepped away toward Ed, saying that now it was her turn. She had her own little camera and took a picture of the two men goofing around, striking a comic macho pose.
The camera had a timing device and she told them to stay put while she set it. They teased her for taking so long about it but at last she had the camera positioned on a pile of rocks and ran to join them and she was l
aughing so much she almost fell over. Connor and Ed moved apart to make space for her between them and she put her arms around them both and the camera flashed.
They settled themselves on the rock shelf and ate the rest of the sandwiches and some apples and nuts and a bar of expensive Swiss chocolate that had gone soft and sticky in the sun. Like a conjurer, Ed brought out a bottle of merlot and three plastic glasses that he’d secretly stowed in his pack and he opened it and poured the wine and made a solemn toast to friendship, which they all repeated.
After they’d eaten they lay on their backs on the baked rock and stared at the sky. Small sculpted white clouds were drifting from the west and Ed got them playing a game in which the three of them took turns naming what the shapes reminded them of. They fell silent and a little later Connor sat up and saw the two of them were asleep. Ed had taken off his T-shirt and apart from his sunburned neck and forearms his skin was pale. He had turned upon his side and was curled like a child in the shelter of Julia’s arm.
For a long time Connor studied them. The rise and fall of their breathing was in rhythm and their faces, slackened by sleep, had an innocence that touched him and somehow saddened him though he didn’t know why it should. A butterfly appeared over the rim of the rock and fluttered around them for a few moments before settling on Ed’s shoulder. The undersides of its wings were a powdery buff but then it opened them and the tops were such a vivid red that it looked like an open wound. Suddenly it was lifted by the breeze and borne away and Connor watched it go and as it grew smaller and smaller the thought struck him that what a man allowed into his heart was a matter of choice.
And long after the butterfly had vanished he stayed staring out over the many miles of forest and mountain hazing in the heat and stretching with the bend of the earth to the horizon and to others beyond. And he banished the sadness that he’d felt and told himself that the world before him was brimming with hope and promise and that the way things were on this most golden of summer days was how life truly was and how it always would be.
The Smoke Jumper Page 8
