Solar Storm: Homeward Bound

by Vincent Keith

  His biggest markets had always been Carmel, Jackson Wyoming, and Victoria Canada. The Seattle gallery, which had done well by him, had gone out of business, as had the art galleries in Portland, Sacramento, and Denver. His sales in Jackson and Victoria had been dropping for the last year and a half. Carmel was holding about even, so almost everyone was hurting.

  Jack went to the custom print shop the following day and had fifteen images printed, on top of what the galleries wanted. He’d come back in a couple of days and put the edition number and signatures on them, then the shop would frame the ones he was sending to Rebecca and handle the shipping. The images destined for the gallery were packed between sheets of quarter inch plywood and then shipped without frames. It was the most money he’d laid out since buying the bike, and it made him nervous in a way past shipments hadn’t. He knew his chances of selling more than one or two were not good, but he’d been lucky before, maybe it would happen again.

  During the evenings and on the weekends they talked about Jack’s plans. Ashely was the first to suggest the possibility of her and Steve moving back to Washington. Jack was surprised, “You remember what the weather was like in Pullman right?”

  “Yep, too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter,” she replied.

  “Then why do you want to move back? Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to have you guys around all the time, but—seriously?”

  “We’ve been getting ready to get the hell out of here for a while. Every time we turn around, another city goes bankrupt, and the taxes go up. We didn’t want to say anything because people would think we’re nuts, but we need some place to bug out to if we stay here,” said Ashley.

  “It’s just been getting worse, and I’m sick of it,” Steve said.

  “I’ve got almost no friends down here. Most of the women I meet are more concerned with their careers than their families. Which is fine, if you don’t have kids. But you know how I feel about absent parents,” said Ashley.

  Jack nodded. He remembered Ashley’s stories from college, about growing up with a part-time nanny since both her parents were too busy to spend any time with her.

  “Steve and I have talked about it, when we have a kid, I’ll be home until they get to be school age, and Steve mostly works from home. But even after that, the last thing I want to do is spend more time at work so I can pay someone else to be with my kid.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” said Steve.

  She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Turning back to face Jack, she sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have a single girlfriend who doesn’t have some woman taking care of her kids, so she doesn’t have to. It’s always the same excuse, ‘I need to focus on career.' If they wanted to focus on their career, why did they have the kids?”

  “You’re asking the wrong guy,” said Jack. “I’ve never understood why people who have a choice would go that route. I mean, I get why people who can just barely make ends meet do it. But they’re usually not the people talking about careers and hiring nannies are they?”

  “No, they’re not,” she said.

  “Anyway,” said Steve, “we’re looking. Not in a huge hurry, but looking. If you’re going to start your new business someplace up north, then we figured maybe we’d wait until you get settled, then see if we can find something nearby.”

  “It doesn’t really matter all that much to us. I’d guess maybe eighty percent of our work is done online as it is. So where we live really doesn’t make much difference.”

  17

  SCHOOL AGAIN

  The big burgundy and white motorcycle slowed, turned toward the center of the street and stopped. Jack put both feet down and walked the bike back to the curb next to two other motorcycles. He pulled off his gloves, stuffing them into his jacket pockets then undid the helmet strap, hanging it from the mirror.

  He’d left Ash and Steve in good spirits. They promised to visit and were looking forward to meeting Rebecca at some point. Jack was as happy as he’d been in a long time, but he was also tired. He’d done over eight hundred miles in two days and looked forward to a short break before classes started.

  Jack adjusted his sunglasses as he looked up and down the main street. There wasn’t much to look at. It was a typical western, small town main street. A market, a few restaurants, a hardware store, a few sports shops and beauty salons, and the ubiquitous coffee shop. Coyote Coffee had an adobe exterior and a sign heavily influenced by Southwest Indian art.

  The bells hanging from the door jingled as Jack stepped through the doorway. Jack slipped off the sunglasses and stepped to the side of the door while his eyes adjusted to the light. The scent of freshly ground coffee wafted through the shop. There was a heavier aroma of something burnt underlying coffee aroma. Jack’s eyes wandered around the store, taking in the details. There, in a large alcove, was the source of the heavier aroma, a big blue and stainless roasting machine. Jack smiled. There weren’t a lot of places that roasted coffee. He headed toward the bar.

  “Hi. Welcome to Coyote Coffee. Can I help you?”

  The woman behind the counter was about Jack’s age, black hair was done up in a bun, dark tanned complexion, and a welcoming smile.

  “You roast your own?” Jack pointed to the roaster.

  “I do.”

  “Thought so, there’s a touch of that heavy roasted, almost burnt smell under the coffee aroma.”

  “That would be the roaster, the chaff container anyway. That’s Dieter.” Her head nodded toward the big machine.

  “Dieter?”

  “German, so… Dieter.”

  “You named your coffee roaster?”

  “Sure, he’s my best employee. Works hard, never asks for time off, and he’s never late.”

  Jack smiled. “And you roast every day?”

  “Almost. I do two batches of ten kilograms. Forty-four pounds more or less every day. Extra on Friday because I don’t roast on weekends, it’s too busy.”

  Jack and Alice talked roasts and blends for a while before he got around to ordering. “How about a sixteen-ounce Americano?”

  They did the coffee shop dance that seemed to require sixteen questions to complete a single cup of coffee. Despite the vast improvement in quality over the years, Jack wondered if perhaps it wasn’t worth all the extra work.

  Alice handed him a blue ceramic cup. One sip and he decided that, yes, it probably was worth the extra effort.

  “Wow, that’s nice. A hint of berry and it’s got a cinnamon finish.”

  “Here, take a bite of this,” Alice held out a plate with a piece of cinnamon roll.

  Jack tried the combination again. “Well, that’s going to be a problem.”

  Alice raised an eyebrow in question.

  “That’s an addictive combination, I can see a lot of that in my future.”

  Alice laughed, “Oh, is that all, well that’s not so bad.”

  After wandering around the shop, he spent several minutes checking out the roaster. It was a big heavy machine of blue metal and stainless steel. Jack returned to the counter and started a new dance, the: I’ve just moved here dance. Alice Worton, owner, and operator of Coyote Coffee was a wealth of information.

  By the time Jack had started on his second cup, he had a list of which apartments to check out, and which to avoid. The location of the closest RV Park, which grocery store had the best produce, where to get the best cuts of meat. He knew which restaurants he should try, and which to avoid. She also had given him recommendations for a dentist, lawyer, chiropractor, doctor, dry cleaners, and pharmacy.

  He checked into a small B&B and began his search for a place to live. After a few days of apartment shopping, Jack looked into RV parks and the cost of trailers. Two days later Jack had purchased a trailer built for year-round use. It was a lucky find. Trailers with winter insulation were uncommon, and this one had heat-taped pipes and under floor insulation. Even better from Jack’s perspective, the previous owner had a gun safe ins
talled. Jack negotiated the installation of some additional LED lighting and signed the papers.

  He arranged to have it delivered to his spot in the RV Park. By Jack’s calculation, he would save enough on rent to pay for the trailer and utilities, and still have a bit left over. If he could find a job once he knew his class schedule, he might not have to dig into his savings.

  JACK SETTLED into the routine of school quickly enough, unsurprising since he’d spent half his life in one. Trade school was a different experience than WSU had been. There were some sports teams, mostly put together on the fly, and a few clubs, but the classes and discussions were all geared toward getting out and making a living.

  His first term was learning the basics of the machine shop. They learned how to measure accurately, mark up parts, and work with tolerance specifications. They also spent a fair amount of time learning how and when to use various hand tools. They learned how to fabricate tools and even some parts. The remaining time was spent learning how to fully disassemble a wide variety of fire firearms for deep cleaning and parts replacement.

  The first winter, Jack built a small carport for the motorcycle to keep it out of the weather, which helped reduce his laundry load of towels used to dry the bike off. He was close enough to walk when it snowed and often walked even when the weather was pleasant.

  After a few months of watching his bank account dwindle, Jack decided he needed enough additional income to cover food. He got a job working part-time for Alice at Coyote Coffee. It was the ideal part-time job for him since it covered his coffee habit and made him enough extra to cover most of his expenses. Alice also introduced him to the manager of the local grocery store where he made a deal to trade work for produce.

  Each morning, at 4:30, Jack stopped by the grocers and cleaned up the produce racks and restocked. In exchange, the manager gave him two bags of produce every week. As soon as he finished with the produce, he’d walk to the coffee shop to begin set up for the 6:00 a.m. opening. Classes ran from 10:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. His evenings were spent studying or working on small projects that required only hand tools. Weekends were spent at the coffee shop and catching up on class work.

  Between the part-time work and the barter, Jack’s only expenses out of savings were the regular tool purchase for classes. Jack saved every penny he could, knowing that when he graduated, he would have to find a place to set up shop. Jack would need money to purchase the big machine tools, buy property, build the house and shop and still have enough to live on.

  Jack spent his first Christmas break working in the coffee shop. He’d considered going up to visit Rebecca, but between her training course and his lack of winter transportation, they stuck to the phone. She’d visited a few times since school started. But between school and part-time jobs, Jack had only strung together two four-day trips, and that required chartering a little Piper Cherokee 235 and its owner-pilot.

  As the end of the year approached, Jack realized he was once again going to be at loose ends. He could continue his part-time work at the coffee shop, but Alice couldn’t afford any additional hours since business dropped off with the end of the school year. Denny had offered to put him to work in the shop. He checked with Alice, who was happy to let him go for the summer and promised to put him back on once classes started again in the fall.

  Jack appreciated the income, but not as much as he valued the time in the shop working with tools. Even that ranked a distant second to spending time with Rebecca. Their relationship was moving forward, and they’d reached the point of talking about jobs, relocation, and living together. They would play it by ear at least until Jack finished school. Rebecca liked her job with the Parks department, and if they moved, it would probably depend on where Rebecca could land a job.

  The second year went much like the first. Jack got his job at the coffee shop again, but to fit in an extra class, he’d given up the other job. He’d made enough over the summer that, barring any major unexpected expenses, he’d end the year slightly ahead of where he started.

  The coffee shop was busy with holiday shoppers, the tips were excellent, and it was nice to have people around. He got a call from Steve saying he and Ashley would come down for a visit and needed a recommendation for a hotel. Alice gave him a few days off in exchange for working Christmas Eve and morning, as well as New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Jack was happy with the trade. Steve and Ashley wouldn’t be arriving until the twenty-seventh. The shop would close at 7:00 p.m. New Year’s Eve and not open until 10:00 a.m. the next day. Steve and Ashley would be back on the road heading home by then.

  Jack made a few trips up north to see Rebecca, but it was hard to make the trip with only three days. Rebecca managed to get a week off and came down. By the time she headed home, Jack was far enough behind on his project that he was working late nights.

  18

  CRASHED

  School was going well and Jack was getting close to completing his Associates in Applied Sciences Degree. He’d managed to get caught up and had already started working on his certificate for advanced gunsmithing. An extra year wouldn’t be too bad. He could afford it and it would be a significant step toward opening his own shop.

  It was early in the month of October. The weather was uncharacteristically bleak. Jack was working the weekend to help cover the cost of the extra classes. The shop had been busy all morning and he was using the lull between the early morning crowd and lunch to restock the flavored syrups.

  He felt the phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out to see who was calling. Denny? Jack pressed the accept button. “Hey Denny, what’s up?”

  “I’m sorry Jack, I’ve got some bad news. Becky… Rebecca died in a plane crash last night. They recovered her body and the pilot's just this morning. She was flying varmint control for the Park Service when the pilot lost control too close to the ground to recover.”

  “What? No, I just talked to her yesterday, she can’t be…”

  “I know Jack. I know… I…”

  Jack struggled to inhale, his knees buckled, and he slid to the floor of the coffee shop with his back against the counter.

  “Jack?” Denny could hear the sob and the struggle for breath at the other end of the connection. Then voices…

  “Jack, you okay?”

  Jack looked up to see Alice kneeling next to him, hand on his shoulder, looking concerned and somewhat frightened. It took him a minute to remember the phone in his hand.

  “I’m… Denny? Oh God, Denny, I’m so sorry… It’s not right. It’s just not right…”

  “Jack?” Alice gave him a small shake.

  “Oh, God… No… Alice, I’ll be okay it’s just…” Jack put the phone back to his ear. “Denny, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “Jack, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t see any point in waiting, I knew you’d want to know as soon as possible. I have to go take care of Judy, we’ll see you when you get here.”

  Jack put the phone on the floor and rested his head against the cabinet.

  “Jack, what is it? What’s wrong?” asked Alice. Several customers were standing on the other side of the counter staring.

  “It’s Rebecca. She’s… She’s gone. I… She… Her plane crashed. I can’t…I can’t believe she’s gone…” Jack’s voice failed. His shoulders shook as he tried to hold back the sobs.

  “Oh Jack, Jack I’m so sorry.” She patted him on the shoulder and then rose to deal with the customers.

  Jack sat on the floor, trying to get a grip. He could just hear Alice as she talked with the few regular patrons who were glancing Jacks way trying to learn what had happened.

  “Guys let’s give him some space. He just got news that his girlfriend died in a plane crash, so… Just go sit down, and I’ll bring your drinks out in a few minutes.”

  Hearing the confirmation of Rebecca’s passing coming from Alice broke the last fragments of Jack’s control. His head fell to his knees, and he wept, not caring who could see.

&nbs
p; Alice finished making the drinks then chased everyone out, set the sign showing they were closed, but would be back in an hour and closed the door. She went behind the counter and sat on the floor next to Jack, pulled his head into her lap and held him. Tears streaked her cheeks as she wept in sorrow for her friend’s loss.

  JACK TRIED to find a pilot to take him to Lakeview, but the weather had the airport socked in. He packed his bike, donned his rain gear and headed north.

  The weather matched his mood well enough—gray and bleak. It was a hard ride, wet and cold, misery on top of misery, and some part of him was glad. It would have been too much to enjoy anything so soon after losing so much. He pushed hard, wanting to spend time with Denny and Judy, and yet wanting to get it over with. He knew it would take a lot more than a funeral to get over what he’d lost so abruptly. Rebecca had been the first woman he’d seriously considered a life with and now that life was over.

  Jack pulled into the circular drive of the Goose Down Inn and killed the bike. He pulled his helmet off, grabbed his day bag and headed to the front door. Jack raised his hand to knock but stopped. He’d heard that shared pain was lessened, and shared joy increased, but he’d never been one to share his feelings. Jack cared very much for Judy and Denny and the thought of seeing them so heartbroken gave him pause. He took a deep breath, steeled his nerves and knocked.

  Denny answered the door, gave Jack a brief smile then wrapped the smaller man in a hug and held him while they both struggled to maintain control. After a few moments, Denny stepped back. “You made good time, come on in and dry out, everyone’s in the kitchen.”