The Ides of Matt 2016

by M. L. Buchman

  Under the fire lookout’s watchful eye, he chose to simply strap in and get out before his congenital idiocy got the better of him. Someday he’d have to get over his awkwardness around attractive women, but this summer he had dedicated to mastering hang gliding. Maybe next summer he’d dedicate to learning how to speak to women…or studying to be a mime!

  Without looking back, he clipped in, tipped up the wing, and ran for the cliff edge. Just as he launched into space, she called after him.

  “My name is Ashley.”

  “Brent. Brent Tucker,” he shouted back, which he’d already told her. By the time he’d thought to say more, he’d nosedived off the edge, rapidly gaining enough speed to properly fly and she was long out of earshot. The nylon wing snapped brightly in the wind as it filled and took shape. The wind was loud without roaring.

  He had flown well away from Medicine Point before he thought to look back. He could still see the tall woman with the wind-blown flag of sunshine hair despite the distance.

  With a banked turn he lost sight of her.

  It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be seeing her again. He’d climb some other peak for his next flight.

  Then it struck him with surprise, he was flying clean without all the nerves that had plagued his last two sleepless nights and the whole climb up the mountain. He banked again to follow the line of Warm Springs Creek ever so far below.

  Though he wouldn’t mind if he did see her again…maybe next time he’d pre-plan a few sentences so that he could at least pretend they were having an actual conversation.

  3

  Ashley couldn’t help giggling a little to herself as “Brent, Brent Tucker” had flown away. It had been a long time since she’d struck a man speechless. It was a nice compliment, and a surprising touch of reality here in the vast wilderness. Maybe she could do this.

  She watched the bright blue-and-black wing dip and soar against the background of pine green and rock as he swooped along. Even after he was out of sight she watched the wilderness, wondering what it would be like to feel so free.

  Hepler and Paramus had been so crowded. The former with all of her high school classmates who had just assumed that she’d settle down with one of them to be a farmer’s wife. And the latter with so many Yankees that even the sound of her own thoughts had seemed those of a foreigner from a strange land—she’d kept adding more and more Texas to her accent just so that she still sounded like herself.

  For an entire summer she would be utterly free. Able to think and do what she wanted. Well, except for every half hour. She glanced at her watch.

  “Darn it!” Ashley raced back up the tower stairs, ten minutes late for her survey for forest fires.

  4

  It had been a week since Brent had flown away from Medicine Point vowing never to return. And his vow was still firmly in place, even as he hiked the last stretch up to the summit for his second time. But in the week since, he’d obtained his H3 intermediate license and traded up his floater wing to an intermediate rig. It had a narrower but longer wing and he couldn’t wait to test the performance off a big hill instead of a small training slope. And his best flight yet had been off Medicine Point.

  Of course, the intermediate wing weighed another fifteen pounds more than the novice rig. Every step up the trail he’d cursed not choosing paragliding. The oversized parachute weighed under forty pounds, not over seventy, but he liked the feel of flying like a plane. Too late to switch, he’d already taken three weeks of lessons and summers didn’t last forever no matter how much one wished them to.

  As he approached the summit his steps slowed to even more of a crawl than they had while trudging up the long grade. The cab came into view and he could see her there behind the cab’s big windows. She, Ashley, had her binoculars raised and was looking off into the distance.

  The day was silent. A small flock of sparrows fluttered by in a quick twitter and a swallow soared about on the soft breeze in loops and swirls like a painter attempting to color the sky.

  Ashley moved quickly and he could hear her voice clearly. She was practically shouting, “This is Medicine Point lookout. I have a smoke at six-three degrees. I think it’s on the face of West Goat Hill.”

  A smoke?

  A fire?

  He scanned the horizon quickly but didn’t see any flames approaching.

  “This is Cougar Peak,” another woman’s voice crackled over the radio. “I confirm. One-two-zero for the cross, definitely West Goat. Strong white already going ash gray. Growing fast. Command, you’ll want to get a team in there. Credit for sighting to Medicine Point. That’s the first one of the season; I guess we all owe you a round when we get down in the fall. Your first fire makes you an official member of the club. Well done, Medicine Point.”

  “Thanks. That means I get to name it. Right?”

  “You do. But we already had a West Goat Fire a couple years back.”

  Brent had eased his load to the ground and decided to brave the lookout tower to see the fire, and drag Ashley to safety if necessary. He was halfway up the steps when he heard Ashley’s voice again.

  “How about…” she trailed off.

  Brent reached the cab’s open door and raised a hand to knock, when she turned and spotted him.

  “Flyer Tuck!” she exclaimed in surprise.

  “Where in the world did you get that, Medicine Point?” The woman on the radio continued without waiting for an answer, “Okay, it’s officially the Flyer Tuck Fire. Cougar Peak out.”

  Brent knew his jaw was down, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Ashley looked from him, down to the radio in her hand, and back at him.

  “W’all howdy, Flyer Tucker. It seems you’ve gone and gotten famous. My first one! You’re on fire, boy. Better yet, you are a fire.” Her laugh was high and wholehearted, impossible to resist.

  Brent couldn’t help himself and joined in.

  Ashley set down the radio, crossed the cab in three steps, then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She’d clearly meant it to be a quick, smacking kiss. The joy was just vibrating off her.

  To keep himself steady—actually to keep her impact from driving him backward out the door and head over heels down the steep steps—he grabbed onto her waist. Somehow that quick smack of lips turned into an embrace and kiss that quickly dusted his prior experiences. Kissing Ashley was a more energized and exciting experience than full-on hot-and-sweaty sex with anyone in his past.

  “Wanna see?” She pulled back from his arms as if nothing had just rocked his world and, taking his hand, dragged him to the huge windows that surrounded the small room.

  It was an efficient space. There was a cot and a cooler beneath a cook stove. A line of counters down ran one wall and turned into a desk by the door, a tiny bookcase was crammed with novels. Squeezed in by the foot of the cot were two small armchairs. One of those big circular fire spotter tools took up the center of the cab—he paused long enough to spot a label, Osborne Fire Finder, before Ashley dragged him the rest of the way to the window. The cab was small enough that there was only a narrow walkway between the device and the furniture lined up along the walls.

  “There!”

  Brent followed the direction she was pointing, but he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

  “Here!” She shoved a pair of binoculars into his hands with the same enthusiasm she had kissed him. Then she guided him until he saw it: a small column of smoke climbing up and dissipating quickly.

  “Not much of a fire.” He didn’t know whether or not he should feel hurt that something so small had been named after him.

  “That’s,” she turned toward the Osborne Fire Finder, whirling quickly enough that he was briefly lost in a cloud of blond hair, “eleven miles away. I bet it’s a couple of acres already. Sit. Sit. I can’t wait to see my first air show.”

/>   “Air show?”

  “Shh,” she kicked a pair of stools out from under the counter. She perched on one and, taking his hand once again, pulled him onto the other stool to sit beside her. Neither did she release his hand, instead keeping it trapped between both of hers.

  He looked at the sun. It was still early in the afternoon. He could wait a while, he’d just have a shorter flight than he’d planned. Besides, he liked the way it felt…as if they were already friends. As if they’d known each other a long time.

  “What’s an air show?” He whispered his question because suddenly the cab felt a little like a holy shrine. She was so intent that she created an immense stillness in the space.

  She just shook her head, unleashing a shower of hair about her face and shoulders.

  5

  There,” Ashley saw it and pointed, causing their shoulders to bump together as they sat side by side.

  “All I see is a big bird that…” Brent’s voice trailed off.

  He had a nice voice once he used it. He was a funny mixture. She’d always gone for tall and big shoulders. He was neither, but it looked good on him. His dark brown hair was long enough to make a girl want to run her fingers through it and the close-trimmed beard gave him solid, reliable look that she rather liked. Brent matched her five-ten and was just a normal-looking guy—strong but no football star.

  As they sat here, she’d finally figured out that he was embarrassed to be around her. On his first visit, she’d been so frantically glad to see another face that she’d been a little ridiculous, nothing new for her. He’d certainly flown the coop fast enough. It was one of the reasons she was keeping his hand pinned between hers at the moment—she didn’t want him flying away again so quickly.

  “…that’s no bird.” He reached for the binoculars, but she didn’t let go of his hand so he had to fumble for them. With her free hand, she pulled out a second, smaller pair for herself.

  She also didn’t want to let go because she was so glad to see another human being. If her first five days had made her crazy, an additional week atop Medicine Point had nearly tipped her into the deep end. Except the last day or so she’d started enjoying it more, going for a trail run before watch duty, and the dinnertime sunsets were spectacular.

  But the real reason she was holding on was that she was having trouble breathing and was half afraid she’d hyperventilate and faint if she did let go.

  It was crazy.

  All she knew about him was his name, that he had a hang glider, and that he kissed like they did in the movies. Star-spangled fireworks only happened on the big screen, but having an airshow for follow-up was pretty darned impressive in her cowgirl’s experience and his kiss had earned every diving run of it.

  First a small plane flew in and circled high above the fire, little more than a black dot in the blue sky. Ten minutes later a big plane roared by close overhead Medicine Point, making both her and Brent duck and laugh a little nervously. It dove down into the valley and then climbed across the face of West Goat Mountain. It dumped a long shower of water and turned back to race away over their heads again, returning to base for another load.

  They had to wait twenty minutes before the next event, then the air was suddenly cluttered with aircraft.

  First, the huge tanker aircraft returned to dump another load, bright red retardant this time. Next, a smaller plane, painted black with red-and-gold flames down the side, flew overhead. In moments a half-dozen parachutes were floating down toward the fire. A pair of helicopters in the same paint scheme began flitting in and out over the fire dumping water or retardant as well.

  “Look, you can see the flame now.” It was both exciting and horrifying. She could easily cover the fire and most of the smoke with her thumb held out at arm’s length. But there were trees burning and, more importantly, people down in that mess.

  She barely remembered to check the rest of the horizon every thirty minutes—a pattern that was finally becoming a habit. The rest of the time she just sat close beside Brent.

  They started talking about the fire and the air show; neither of them had ever seen anything like it. He was from Colorado, the eastern part, which wasn’t all that much different from eastern Kansas. He’d graduated from the University of Montana.

  “I’m not there yet,” she told him. “I did night school online and have two years of credits.” She’d never told that to anyone; it had always been her own private goal. “That was my ticket out of Paramus and a bonafide guarantee that I’d never go back to Hepler. With me gone, Hepler is down to a hundred and thirty-one people. The nearest high school was fifteen miles away. That’s why I did so well at track-and-field. In addition to practice I rode my bicycle both ways to school because there was no late bus.”

  “We should go visit Lamar someday. It’s huge!” Brent spread his arms wide, accidentally bumping her on the head. “At least by comparison. Seven thousand people. Impressed?”

  “Terribly!” She clasped her hands to her chest as if about to swoon with delight. They no longer held hands, but still sat close enough that she could feel him there beside her. “What is a Colorado flatlander doing with a hang glider?”

  The air show was fading along with the light. The fire was reported as contained and now just needed beating all the way down.

  “I,” Brent looked out the window, but she couldn’t quite tell what he was looking at. “It’ll sound stupid.”

  “I’m a Kansas farm girl who sold cowboy boots in Paramus, New Jersey. Top that one. I dare you.”

  6

  Brent kept looking, but it wasn’t dark enough yet. He couldn’t see the reflection on the inside of the cab’s glass—the reflection of a man he wouldn’t recognize sitting next to…

  He cleared his throat, still convinced that this wasn’t really happening.

  “I’m a first year professor at UM. They kept me on after my grad work; I teach undergraduate astronomy.”

  “Which has what to do with hang gliding?” Ashley’s tone was light. She made it easy for him to talk and with the fading light he was slowly becoming less daunted by her beauty and more enamored of her innate warmth of heart.

  “I…” In for a penny, Tucker, in for a pound. “My dad said I’d never amount to crap,” he said it fast so that he wouldn’t sound bitter. “Probably because he hadn’t either. I decided that every summer—while school was out—I would learn something new, really learn it, to prove him wrong. I started a couple years back. I spent a summer learning to do long-distance bike riding, made it to Wisconsin and back. I worked a summer with a swim coach until I won a couple of amateur competitions. I did ballroom dancing last year. This year I decided to try hang gliding. I’ve got my H3—there’s only one more level of licensing, but the H4 is a lot of work.” Crap! This was making him sound like he had no direction at all. He loved teaching astronomy and working with the kids. It was—

  “Ballroom dancing?” Ashley sounded aghast.

  Perfect. She was one of those people who thought that meant he was some sort of pansy who—

  “However did you talk to women who were your dance partners? I’m not sure how you’re talking to me.”

  Not the response he’d been expecting.

  Ashley kept proving that in addition to being beautiful woman, she was also a very insightful one.

  “Um, I just focused on the dance. Started with a male teacher so that I could learn the woman’s role and understand how I should be guiding her. Then all I talked about with any partner was the dance. And…I have no answer for your second question. You’re just the type of woman who scares the crap out of me. Let’s just call it temporary insanity.”

  She watched him closely for a long moment before speaking, long enough that he wondered if she’d ask him to leave.

  “Show me.”

  “Show you what? Why I can’t talk to you?” How was he supp
osed to do that when he was?

  “No. Show me how to dance.”

  And, much to his surprise, he did. In slow, careful steps, they worked a basic waltz step around and around the narrow space between counter and the Osborne Fire Finder. The sunset filled the cab’s windows with gold, reds, and finally deep purples. When the only lights outside were a tiny spot of brightness from the distant fire and the rising moon, she lit a candle lantern. He could see their reflections inside the glass as they moved more and more in sync about the tiny space.

  His awareness of her grew until it was more than an ache or a need. It grew until he was conscious of nothing else but the warmth and softness of her beneath his hands, of the wild, fresh smell of her, and of the musical ring of her soft voice as she took over counting the time and steps. They moved from the slow waltz to the Viennese. She flowed easily into the quick Irish and finally the almost slouching country-western waltz.

  They staggered to a halt after the world outside had gone completely dark, and only the flickering candlelight coaxed the blue from her eyes.

  How long they stood in the perfect frozen silence together, he didn’t know. Then she stepped back out of his arms.

  He had brought no sleeping bag or blanket, he’d expected to be back off the mountain still in the heat of the day. Where would he—

  Brent’s thoughts stumbled to a halt as Ashley reached down to her waist and then pulled off her t-shirt. Her bra was the same color as her eyes, and all he could do was stare in bewilderment as that too hit the floor.

  When she stepped back into his arms, she moved all the way in. Her skin was a silken wonder and for just a moment as their lips first met, he looked at their reflection in surprise.

  Then any thoughts other than the woman in his arms simply flew away into the night.