Chapter Fourteen
April wrung her washcloth into the bathroom sink. The water that came out of it was alarmingly brown. She rinsed it again and wiped her other leg. A month ago, she never would have imagined that anyone besides a homeless person would take a sponge bath in the sink of a public bathroom. Now she was doing it, and she wasn’t even embarrassed.
She had just finished another ascending lesson with Madigan. She was really getting the hang of it, and her confidence was growing. What she was not getting used to was all the sweat and grime that went along with a day on the cliffs.
A shower would have been great, but there wasn’t time before she was supposed to meet Josh at his truck to go over his speech.
The prospect of being alone with Josh on his turf felt dangerous. Not exciting-dangerous, but dishonest-dangerous. That’s because reading Josh’s speech would only take a few minutes, and to buy more time she had swapped dinner duty with Madigan and told Danny she was going to get some B-roll of Josh hanging out in his camp.
She finger brushed her hair that was limp from sweating all day and pulled it back into a ponytail. Outside, the light afternoon breeze refreshed her damp skin, but it did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. What was she about to do? Josh was the talent, and she had no business crossing that line. And for what? Her own curiosity? Even if she confirmed that he was interested, he was still a man who risked his life for a living, and because of that, she would never allow anything with him to be more than a quick fling. And to jeopardize her entire career in film by getting fired from this internship for a quick fling? No way. It made her sick just to imagine Madigan catching her with Josh in a situation that even bordered on inappropriate. She was just an intern, but she was filling a significant role on this film, and she’d never do anything that would let Danny and the guys down.
She made a quick stop at the Walkabout site to put her bathroom kit in a bear box and pick up the camera she’d temporarily stowed in her tent. The problem with the excuse she’d given about filming Josh’s truck was that she’d actually have to get some footage to show when she got back.
The guys were sharing a newspaper over at the fire ring. Her camp chair stood empty next to Madigan’s. Their two chairs were practically touching, whereas the others were spaced out around the ring. Someone—probably Madigan—had put a beer in the cup holder for her.
No wonder Josh had assumed she and Madigan were dating.
As if he sensed her thinking about him, Madigan laid his newspaper over the back of his chair and joined her at the tent. “What are you up to?” he asked.
He held the camera for her as she zipped the tent back up. “The B-roll, remember?”
Concern flashed across his face. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, it’s okay. I also have to go over Josh’s speech one last time. He’s made some changes.”
Theo looked at them over the top of his newspaper section.
“Well, grab a radio and call me if you change your mind,” Madigan said.
As she walked through the woods, she thought about how much had changed since her first visit to Josh’s camp, not only her comfort level with living on location in a campground, but with him.
When she reached the front of his truck, she crouched and unpacked her camera. She was glad the truck had one of those extra-tall canopies, because it helped her stay hidden as she tiptoed along the side of it. She peered around the corner. The hammock was weighted and swaying. Bingo! She could catch Josh before he realized she was there, get a quick pan, and be done with filming.
When the camera was ready, she pressed her shoulder into the side of his truck and pivoted around so that only the camera lens poked out. Josh was in the hammock all right, and he was sleeping. Double bingo! She could get in closer and take her time. They might actually be able to use this footage in the film.
She crept wide around his truck toward the tree at the foot of the hammock and then hid behind a tree to collect herself. Without a tripod, she would need to be absolutely steady for this shot. She took a huge breath, stepped out from behind the tree, and then started her pan.
The scene was magnificent. Josh was the epitome of relaxed and natural, with his head resting gently on the side of the hammock and a textbook collapsed across his chest. A beam of yellow light drifted through the branches, making the particles in the air sparkle above his face.
She panned past him to where a clothesline stretched between two trees, his bright T-shirts and several pairs of khaki shorts swaying in the breeze in time with the sway of the hammock. Next, she panned to his camp chair at the fire pit, where he had been using a log round as an ottoman and another for an ax rest. She finished the pan into the open back of Josh’s truck-house, where there was another book facedown on the tailgate, along with his harness, which was all bunched up, with his shoes sitting on the peak.
April lowered the camera and turned it off. Mission accomplished.
She peeked at Josh. He was still asleep, his eyes flickering beneath his eyelids. The sunshine was warm on her shoulders, and watching him unguarded like this made her unguarded, too. If only she could curl into the hammock and drift to sleep alongside him.
“Josh,” she whispered.
He didn’t stir, so she tried again, louder. This time he blinked and looked around, eventually seeing her at the foot of the hammock.
“Hey, April,” he said.
“Sorry for waking you,” she said.
“It’s okay. What’s up?”
“Do you still want me to look over your speech?”
He yawned and stretched. “Yes. Definitely.”
He set the book down and sat up. He swung his feet to the side of the hammock, and then noticed the camera. He froze.
“How long have you been taping?”
“I’m done. The camera’s off.”
“You taped me sleeping?”
“It’s just a quick shot for B-roll.”
“April! My god! How about some warning?”
“It was less than ten seconds. And was just a pan of your camp.”
“You got my truck? It’s a total wreck in there!”
“You can’t tell from here. It looks pretty clean to me.”
“But there are clothes over there,” he said, pointing to the clothesline.
“It’s just shirts and shorts.”
“Still, you should have asked.”
“You were sleeping. Think of it as the easiest scene you’ve ever had to do.”
He scowled, but the smile in his eyes canceled it out. “Good point.”
“You can watch it if you want. You’ll see, it’s just a short little clip.”
“Okay, show me,” he said, standing up.
She turned the camera on, and he stepped behind her shoulder to see the screen. She’d done pretty well keeping it steady, which was a relief. To Josh, the shot would look like a simple recording of his campsite, but in film language, all the details delivered a powerful and intimate image. Danny would be thrilled when he saw this.
“It’s fine, I guess,” he said when it was over. “But no more filming back here until my truck is clean.”
The breath from his words flowed across the side of her neck, making her skin prickle with excitement. He smelled fresh and clean, but not in a typical soap-and-shampoo way. She knew he’d spent most of the day climbing, so perhaps he had bathed in another pristine Yosemite lake afterward.
A gust of wind rippled through the pages of Josh’s book, sending his bookmark flying across her feet. She picked it up, discovering that is wasn’t a bookmark but a photograph of a very large family—presumably his. They were posing at one of the hotels on the Las Vegas Strip, the one with the jungle safari theme.
She handed the picture to him, and he tucked it back into the book without comment. It was kind of cute that even though his family lived in Las Vegas, they still hung out at the Strip like tourists.
He went to get his laptop from
the truck cab, and she waited at the tailgate.
She looked inside, trying to figure out what he had been so embarrassed about. The only thing messy about his truck was that his bed wasn’t made. Otherwise, it was impeccably organized. A plywood platform raised his thin mattress two feet above the truck bed, and below it were clear plastic bins of gear, each neatly labeled in his symmetrical handwriting.
There was a rustling in the bushes behind her that was much too loud to be a squirrel or raccoon. She gripped the tailgate.
“What’s wrong?” Josh asked.
“Shh!” she hissed. “Bear.”
“Where?”
She turned around cautiously and, of course, there was nothing there.
“It was probably just the wind. It’s been shifting directions today,” Josh said. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of bears.”
“Have you seen those signs in our campground? Who wouldn’t be?”
He laughed. “Bears are like cats. Just clap your hands and they’ll run away.”
Easy for him to say.
“Your truck isn’t messy at all, you know,” she said, changing the subject.
“If you’re going to live like this, you’ve got to be very organized,” he said. “Otherwise it’s like being in a dog kennel.”
“Is that so?”
“Seven years ago, you wouldn’t have gotten within twenty feet of this truck. Nasty stuff gets stuck everywhere, and it really starts to stink.”
He’d been living on the road like this for seven years? He was only two years older than her. That would mean he’d been doing this since he graduated high school.
Josh sat on the tailgate and logged in to his laptop. He handed it to her.
“The glare is really bad,” he said. “You might want to sit up here so you can read it.”
Her arms, sore from back-to-back days of ascending lessons, screamed as she pushed up onto the tailgate. She sat cross-legged with the laptop balanced on her thighs. It was a tailgate, but it was also his bedroom, which was subtly thrilling.
His eyes were on her as she started to read, and she was thankful she’d taken the time to clean up in the bathroom. The speech was quite good, actually. Much better than the last version she’d read, which he must have thrown together just to prove to Danny and Vera that he wasn’t procrastinating.
“It’s great,” she told him. “Right on target.”
“Good.”
Dread crept through her heart. He didn’t need any help, which meant she didn’t have a reason to stay there with him for much longer.
“You have everything ready for tomorrow?” she asked.
“I think so.”
“The tailor will be waiting for you at the hotel as soon as we get there.”
“Okay.”
He was giving her clipped answers. Weren’t they past this?
“We’ll probably leave around ten,” she said. “Does that work for you?”
“Sure.”
Maybe they weren’t past this. Her body was as heavy as lead as she handed the laptop back and slid off the tailgate.
“Well, I guess if you’re all set, I better head back.”
She went to the hammock to get the camera. The disappointment was like a vise ratcheting tighter and tighter around her lungs.
She shouldn’t have filmed him. She’d known he wouldn’t be happy about it. Or maybe his previous friendliness had all been exaggerated in her head. Some sort of psychosis of wishful thinking. She’d have to ask her mom about that.
Josh was still over on the tailgate, pressing his fingers along the top of his laptop like it was a ledge on a climbing route. The wind whipped her ponytail and blew her bangs into her eyes.
It was all for the best, she reminded herself. Seriously, what did she think would happen here today? That he’d push her against the side of his truck and kiss her like in Gone With the Wind?
“Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called.
His fingers froze on the edge of the laptop. His eyes were large and troubled.
“I have the pictures that go with the speech,” he said. “Do you want to see them?”
She’d already seen the pictures, last week, when she mailed a CD of them to Vera. He had to know April would have checked them over before sending them.
Hope rose up and filled her chest.
Yes. He had to know she’d already seen them, but he had still asked. This was a good sign. Maybe he wasn’t mad. Maybe he wanted her to stay as much as she did.
If she was smart, she would leave now. She would go back to the Walkabout campsite immediately.
“You’re right. I guess I should take a look.”
She climbed back on the tailgate, this time letting her legs swing free. He set the laptop between them, and she had to scoot closer to support her side of it.
Although she’d seen the pictures before, tonight she saw them in a new light. These weren’t at all like the action photos that dominated climbing magazines. These were pictures of sunbursts behind jagged rock-and-ice Sierra peaks, pristine alpine rivers, and vistas from the eastern reaches of the park down into wide deserts, breathtaking views of the park as it could only be seen from the sides of its trademark formations, thousands of feet in the air. Views she had gotten a taste of only because she’d been to Flying Sheep Lake. His photos were of solace, beauty, and peace. Freedom. Reverence. Challenge. Commitment. Exploration.
As Josh arrow-keyed through the pictures, his arm was floating above her bare thigh. He stopped clicking, and she prayed it wasn’t because he could hear how fast her heart was beating.
“What happened to your hands?” he asked.
She looked down at them, wondering if she had been fidgeting.
“Looks like you crawled through razor wire.”
Indeed, her palms were a patchwork of torn blisters and fiery splotches. Her fingertips were hatched with scratches.
“Madigan is teaching me how to ascend,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m filming on the Sorcerer.”
He looked surprised. “You are?”
She thought he knew. “Are you okay with it?”
“Might be kind of a distraction.”
Danny should have asked Josh before changing up the plan on the climb!
He elbowed her. “I’m joking, April.”
She laughed like she had known it all along.
As they looked at a few more of his pictures, she was grateful for the warmth of the laptop on her leg. She was still dressed for the daytime heat, but it was getting chilly with the approach of sunset, and the winds were stronger than usual. Josh grabbed his gray hooded sweatshirt from the back of the truck and held it as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. The softness of the sweatshirt and the intensity of his familiar scent weakened her knees. It was almost as if she had him wrapped around her.
He cocked his head. “It’s a little big.”
She pushed the sleeves up and connected the zipper at the bottom. It got stuck midway up.
“Sorry, it’s really old,” he said. “But there’s a trick.”
He carefully reached for the zipper pull, tugged down twice, wiggled it, then yanked it the rest of the way up. Her goose bumps from the cold refreshed themselves with goose bumps from his touch.
It occurred to her that he had probably hooked up with all his camerawomen. The romantic gesture with the sweatshirt could be a practiced move, and she was the village idiot who was falling for it.
She looked at him, and his eyes glowed with warmth in return. She didn’t really believe that about him. Besides, she’d never seen a woman’s name in any of the cinematography credits in the dozens of climbing films she’d watched since she got here, so hooking up with camerawomen wasn’t a likely scenario.
He took a half step toward her and lifted the soft hood over her head. His fingers lingered on the edges of the hood, adjusting it around her face.
“Better?” he asked.
/> She nodded. He lowered his arms to his sides, leaving a tangible emptiness between them. She longed to close the gap, to be near him once again. To have his hands back on the hood framing her face.
“Just out of curiosity, how come Theo isn’t teaching you to ascend?” Josh asked. “He has a lot more experience than Madigan.”
“He will, later, but he’s been so busy with rigging.”
Josh cleared his throat. “Okay, well, maybe you should try wearing gloves next time. Mind if I take a look at your hands?”
She opened her palms toward him. He placed one of his hands beneath hers and lifted it closer to see. Her cheeks burned, and she struggled to mute her shallow breaths, which roared loudly in her ears.
“I have some lotion you can put on them,” he said.
He grabbed an unlabeled plastic tub from the shelf above his bed.
“A friend of mine makes this.” He twisted the lid off the tub. “It has beeswax and lanolin in it. It’ll heal your hot spots really fast.”
She expected him to give her the tub, but he reached for her hand instead. She was afraid to look at him as he glided the light-as-air lotion across her torn skin. His hands were hot on the backs of hers while the lotion sent cooling tingles into her palms.
The sweatshirt and now this? What did it mean and where was this going?
Josh set the lotion down. He cupped her hand in both of his, using his thumbs to gently rub the lotion in. Damp heat rose from his skin and surrounded her.
The dizziness was heady. Intoxicating. They were on the verge of something. Something big. This was what she came here for. And now it was about to happen.
He lowered her hand, and she gave him the other one. It was just hands. Her one between his two, but it was more intimate than anything she’d experienced.
How could she ever force herself to see him platonically again? How would she be able to finish the interviews? How would she manage to keep her sanity when she filmed him on the Sorcerer?
Really, this was serious. She needed to consider these things.
He lowered her hand but didn’t let go. She wanted to freeze this moment forever, the feeling of his hand soft against hers.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “I think that’s really going to help.”
Lessons In Gravity Page 12
