by H. L. Wegley
“Turn on your heater and blow it at our feet.” He scooted both pairs of boots near the heater’s floorboard exhaust. “You know, we should be thankful the ground is still in good shape and that the river didn’t come over the bank on this side.”
“I am. Your feet are wet, Lee. They got wet when you carried me, didn’t they?”
He nodded. “We both nearly got submerged…permanently.”
“I’m trying not to think about that. Raging water terrifies me.” She paused. “I have some dry socks in my workout bag in the back. We’ll get you some dry socks at the store.” Jennifer steered the car back to the gravel road. “I wonder how close it came when the bridge dammed up the river.”
“We probably don’t want to know.”
They were alive and safe. On to the next item of business.
He propped his elbow on the back of the seat and put his hand on her shoulder. “Now…where did you say that logger-turned-sculptor lives, John what’s-his-name?”
“John Braithwaite.” Jennifer turned on her headlights and pulled out onto Highway 101. “His house and shop are about eight miles south of town, along the highway.”
The clock on the dash displayed 4:05 PM. “Good. You can interview him in about fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“OK.” Jennifer rubbed her forehead. “But the cover story we came up with needs to be changed.”
“Why is that?”
“Think about it. Who is going to be out here doing research in a storm like this?”
“You’re right. But we don’t need to change the story much. Let’s say you have a deadline to meet for your research. It’s the truth.”
“What if he gets suspicious? What if—”
“Don’t worry. If he’s not Trader, he’ll cooperate, and—”
“And if he is?” Jennifer countered.
“Trader, an artist?” Lee shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t fit.”
“So, after you talk to Braithwaite, we’ll get a two-bedroom suite at the inn, and tomorrow morning we’ll check out the last site, plus whatever comes out of the interview. You’ll be on the phone to Peterson with the girls’ location before the wind peaks tomorrow.”
“You can stop trying to make me feel good about everything. You’ve already bagged your woman.”
“What are you talking about now? If that kiss in the rain made you this loony, I’ll have to swear off kissing.”
“And how long would that last? Do you even know what I’m talking about? From day one, when the terrorists were chasing us, you kept trying to make me feel better about things, even when the things were my fault. Like when I got us trapped on the freeway, and they started shooting. When I let them see our brake lights in the dark, and they found us again. When I—”
“Enough, Jennifer. I don’t want to relive all that running for our lives. Don’t you like it that I try to make you feel better when things get you down?”
“Lee, I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I only asked why you do it.”
“But you…never mind. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
“We’re having it because I need it.”
She was testing his patience, and he was about to flunk the test. He took a deep breath and blasted it out. “OK, tell me why you need it.”
“Driving in these conditions is tiring. I can’t even see fifty yards ahead. And I’m tired. I need some help staying awake.”
“I would have thought that backwash at the river would be enough to…you could have asked, Jenn. I would’ve helped.”
“But you did help. You got louder and louder. We had this invigorating discussion, and it kept me awake.”
Lee opened his mouth to speak.
“Lee?”
“Yes.”
“We haven’t set the date yet, but we’re getting married soon, and there are things I still don’t know about you like…all of your hot buttons.”
“Jennifer, do you need me to help you stay awake, or are you just randomly pushing my buttons?”
“It isn’t exactly an either-or situation.”
“What has gotten into you? By—”
Her eyes were welling. The one nearest to him overflowed.
Oh brother. She’s crying.
Whatever battle they were fighting, he had lost. Now what was he going to…wrong question. “I’m sorry, Jenn. I love you. What do you need me to do right now?”
“I told you before we left Seattle that I probably wouldn’t be good company today, wouldn’t feel normal until we found those girls.”
He remembered her words. Until the voice that keeps crying out to me for help stops.
“Tell me again that everything’s going to turn out all right.”
“We’re going to talk to this Braithwaite fellow in a few minutes, then we’ll have all the information we need to find the mill. Tomorrow morning we’ll find it. After that, everything’s going to be fine. At some point, we’ll probably get to meet those girls. Then it will be wonderful. That’s what I believe. I wouldn’t be here with you now if I didn’t. Somewhere deep inside, I know you believe it, too. Right?”
Jennifer grabbed his hand. “Please, remember that speech, Lee. I may need you to give it again soon.”
“Are you up to talking to this logger?”
“Yes. I am now.”
Jennifer caressed his hand until they reached the Bogachiel River, where Highway 101 inscribed its squiggly line on highway maps of the Olympic Peninsula. She used both hands to navigate the winding stretch of road.
Lee glanced at the odometer. “I think we’re approaching Braithwaite’s house.”
Jennifer slowed.
They had driven through forest land for the last five miles, but up ahead was an opening and possibly a driveway. “Slow down some more, Jenn. This may be it.”
As she turned in, he glanced at her face.
“Are you ready with the cover story and your questions?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Lee scanned the buildings. Lights were on in both the mobile home and the shop.
“Wait here. Let me try the door to the shop first. The lights are on, so maybe he’s still working.”
Lee slipped on his wet boots and strode to the door. It wasn’t locked. “Knock, knock. Anybody home?”
A tall, wiry, gray-haired man looked up from his desk. Sculpture work of all sizes and in various degrees of completion stood evenly spaced across the shop floor.
“I’m home,” the man replied as he stood. “Who’s the fool out on a day like this?”
“Are you John Braithwaite?”
“Yes, and who’s the fool asking?”
“The fool is Lee Brandt. But it’s my fiancée who needs to talk to you. May I—”
Braithwaite looked towards the door when Jennifer entered the shop. “My word, she’s absolutely…By all means, come in. May I get you anything? A cup of coffee?” His words were directed at Jennifer.
Jennifer gave the man a warm smile. “Did you say coffee? I’d love some. My name is Jennifer and you, I hope, are John Braithwaite.”
“In the flesh, Miss. Black or with cream and sugar?”
“Black please.”
He poured Jennifer’s cup, then looked at Lee. “And what would you like, young man?”
“If you’ve got plenty, I’ll have mine black, too.”
“Glad for the company, any company this time of year.” The old logger poured Lee’s cup full and set the pot down. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Jennifer gave him their cover story and spread out her peninsula map on a workbench. “Now, here are the old mill sites we’ve located. See the black dots?”
Braithwaite studied the map for a few seconds. “Yes, but some have circles around them.”
She pointed to one of the encircled dots. “Those are sites we want to visit. What I really need are locations of any mills we might have missed, whether they wer
e cedar shake mills or lumber mills.”
“Well, over the years I probably hauled logs into every mill that ran out here from 1950 to 2000. Let me see what you’ve got.”
Braithwaite pored over the map, smiling as he placed his finger on some of the black dots. “You know there was a mill here, but I think they tore it down about twenty years ago.”
Jennifer marked the spot with an X. “We found a lot of mills between Lake Quinault and Kalaloch, but not many between Kalaloch and Forks.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Braithwaite mumbled, while his finger traced Highway 101. “But I think you missed one small mill about right…here.” He pointed to a location a few miles south of Kalaloch on the south side of Highway 101. “I think the road’s still there, maybe overgrown a bit. But I see it’s not shown on your map.”
Jennifer added a black spot to the map while Braithwaite continued to talk. “This was a small, family-owned mill. It operated as recently as twenty years ago, maybe less. So it’s probably in pretty good shape. Don’t know if they abandoned any equipment there. When the lumber industry took that nosedive, some owners just walked away and left behind rusting saws, forklifts, everything.” He sighed and a droopy smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I guess they were just hoping…but you aren’t interested in all of that.”
Jennifer’s hand trembled as she drew a red circle around the mill Braithwaite pointed out to them.
Obviously, she held the same suspicion he did.
“Let’s see, you’ve got Johnson’s and…” Braithwaite named most of the mills marked on the map, then announced, “I think you’ve got them all now. If I missed any, it’s because they shut down before 1950. In that case, there wouldn’t be anything left on the site. The forest would have reclaimed everything by now.”
Jennifer set her coffee down. “Thank you so much, Mr. Braithwaite. You’ve been a big help to me in completing this research. If it turns out well, I’ll give you an update when I’m out here sometime.”
“I’ll look forward to it, young lady.”
Lee stretched out his hand. “Thanks a lot, sir. Sometime we’ll stop in when we can look at your work. It’s fantastic.”
A sculpture of a Roman soldier stood at least twelve feet high near the center of the shop. Braithwaite had created the entire carving from a single large log. This man was an artist, creating art as God intended, art that captured the beauty of God’s creation.
Unlike Trader, who only captured beauty and then destroyed it.
Once they were inside the car, Lee put an arm around Jennifer and gave her a side hug. “I think we struck gold. He knew every mill that could possibly be used, and he added the only one we didn’t have on our map. If we visit the last two mill sites, we will find where they’re holding the girls.”
Once again a genuine smile graced Jennifer’s face. “I believe you’re right.
“And we don’t have to worry about flooding rivers anymore. The last two sites are on high ground south of Kalaloch.”
“Lee, it’s the men that we need to worry about. That river only looked evil, the men are evil.”
6
Lee sat with wet feet and thoughts of warm coffee when they turned in at the store.
Jenn stared at the floorboard. “It’s my fault we didn’t find them today.”
“There were things beyond our control. It’s not your fault. He pulled her head close and kissed her forehead. “Nothing was your fault. I’m the one who blew it. I’m sorry for not thinking about how you might feel at that last mill and—”
“Hush.” Jennifer pressed her fingers over his lips. “It’s OK.” She kissed him softly. “We have better things to do than sit in a parking lot in the rain. We’re wasting time here.”
Lee watched as she walked towards the store entrance. He could never consider any time spent with her as wasted.
In a few minutes Jennifer trotted through the downpour, slid in, and tossed him a package. “Hurry up and get these on. There’s a certain barista who can’t wait to see you.”
He slipped on a warm, dry sock. “The caramel macchiato lady?”
“You’d better be sure that’s your only interest in her.” She gave him her mock frown.
The thought of Jennifer being jealous brought a grin. “Do I detect a subtle threat?”
“It’s not a threat. I promised to marry you, but only if you survive the courtship.”
“Jenn, you’ve never acted like the jealous type.” He slipped on his second sock.
“And you don’t want to see me act that way. Believe me.”
“I’m engaged to the brightest, most beautiful woman on the planet, who seems to have been custom-made for me by God.” He pushed his feet into his boots. “I’d have to be a complete fool to even look at another woman.”
“Then everything’s fine, because I would never promise myself to a fool. Now let’s get some coffee.”
Lee jumped out, ran to the driver’s side and took her hand. “Come on, I want to lay the issue of macchiato maiden to rest.” He stepped towards the coffee shop’s side entrance.
“Don’t be silly. I was only joking…like we always do.”
“I’m not convinced.” He opened the shop door. “I think you need some proof.”
At the sound of the doorbell, the barista looked up.
Lee drew Jennifer close and gave her the most convincing kiss he could muster, a kiss she seemed to become totally lost in. As they began their deep look into each other’s eyes, Jennifer looked away. Her cheeks were flushed.
“I rest my case,” he whispered in her ear.
She clung to his arm, but looked at the floor.
Macchiato maiden stood behind the counter, smiling while she stared at them. “Hey. What type of research are you doing out here, anyway?”
He looked up at the smiling barista. “Compatibility testing.”
“Was that the final exam?” Macchiato maiden fired her question across the shop, continuing to smile at him.
Jennifer leaned close and whispered. “She’d better not ask if I passed the exam, or I’ll kill you.”
He put his mouth next to her ear. “Wouldn’t you at least wait for my answer?” Before Jennifer could respond, he replied to the barista. “Yeah. That was the final.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” Macchiato maiden raised a palms-up hand. “Did she pass?”
The frown lines deepened on Jennifer’s forehead.
“You need to ask her that question. I’m only the student.”
Jennifer leaned her head onto Lee’s shoulder. “You weasel,” she whispered as she slipped her arm around his waist. “You always find a hole to slip through. Tell her you passed.”
Lee put an arm around Jennifer’s shoulders and leaned his head on hers.
The barista looked at the couple and smirked. “It’s pretty obvious. You aced the exam.” She paused. “Same order as before?”
“Yes, please,” Jennifer spoke softly.
“Two extra-hot, grande, caramel macchiatos coming right up.”
When they entered the supermarket sipping their coffee, Lee grabbed a hand basket from the stack. Jennifer also reached for one.
“I can carry everything. We’re not getting much.”
Jennifer took a hand basket, disregarding his offer.
“We’re not getting anything heavy. It’ll all fit in my basket.” He reached for her basket.
She moved it out of reach and scanned the area around them. “It’s not how much…it’s what.”
“But we’re only getting toothpaste, toothbrushes, mouthwash, and…oh.”
“I want to pick out my ‘oh’ by myself.”
“Sure you don’t want my suggestions?” He gave her a toothy grin.
“Maybe in a few weeks, but definitely not tonight.”
“You know, maybe it’s a good thing we got stuck out here on the peninsula tonight. I learned some new things about you. Like it embarrasses you when—”
> “That’s enough. I’ve learned some things, too. That I’m very happy and very blessed. And that you need to let me go down the next aisle by myself.”
“I’ve got one of those aisles, too. I’ll go find it now. Meet you by the toothpaste.”
They left the store and splashed across the parking lot.
Jennifer tossed the bag with their purchases in the back, and then started the engine. “Are we ready to head for the other end of town?”
“After you answer a question.”
“OK, what is it?”
“Einstein really doesn’t know?”
“Twice today. That’s enough Einstein. Just tell me, Lee.”
“What names will we use when we check in?”
“Oh.” She paused. “I hadn’t even thought—”
“But I have…Jennifer and Lee Brandt, brother and sister.”
“That’s really a stupid idea. They would have to think one of us was adopted. I’m Asian-Polynesian and you’re, well…as Caucasian as they come.”
“Not really. I’m one-eighth Cherokee.”
“You never mentioned that before. You said your great-grandparents were German immigrants.”
“They were, but my other side of the family came from the Indian Territories—outlaws and half breeds.”
Her eyes widened at the word outlaws.
“You look surprised. You’re not prejudiced, are you?”
“You know me better than that.”
“Then what were you thinking?”
A smile spread across her face. “About our kids.”
“What? That’s not a subject to bring up tonight—especially tonight.”
“With our bloodlines, can you imagine what they will look like? They’re going to be beautiful, Lee.”
“I’m sure the girls will. But the boys…they might slice you up with a samurai sword and then scalp you.”
“The Cherokees didn’t do that. But, you’re right. Tonight’s not a night for kids—I mean as a discussion topic, or for—”
“Sweetheart, I know what you mean. Tonight’s a night to think about finding some kids, not about—”
