I fidgeted all the way down the road toward Sutton. What ploy could I use to open the conversation?
There are two long straight stretches before you come to the village of Sutton. There is a truck lane to give those going faster the chance to get around slow moving vehicles before getting into the climb to Eureka Summit.
Ahead of me a big boat on a triple-wheeled trailer was under tow. As I came up on it, I saw that it was a fishing vessel. In the direction we were headed it was safe to assume it would be fishing for salmon out of Valdez. Now was my chance.
"Looks like that one is headed for Valdez."
"Probably."
That's all he's going to say? He sure is a quiet guy. "Salmon fishing, I guess."
"Yeah."
I intended to pry out the information if I had to. "How come you aren't out on the Sound?"
"No need. Felt like a change."
Damn, he was making this hard. I thought I'd just stop being delicate and get down to the bone. "If you crewed with Davis Lee, how come I never heard him talk about you?"
A hint of a chuckle huffed out of the man before he answered me. "You did. Just didn't know who he was talking about."
He went silent again, and I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. On top of being closed mouthed, he appeared to be playing cryptic games. Maybe it was pay back for being a bit of a bitch. Lou probably heard every word I said to James. Shit!
I wanted an answer. "Why didn't I know who he was talking about? What's the big mystery here?"
Before he replied to me, he took another drink from the water bottle. When Lou spoke, he still didn't answer my question. I got a request instead.
"Want to turn down the music a hair? I hate yelling if I don't need to. Did enough out on the boat."
A reasonable request, I had to agree. So I cut the volume by about a third, and he finally said something without prompting.
"Better."
He took another drink of water. I was about ready to stop the truck and take him by the shirt front when he spoke again.
"Davis Lee ever mention the Indian?"
"He did."
"That's me."
Those two small words had me searching my brain for the things Davis Lee did say about Lou. The very first thing I came up with was an observation about how the man wasn't much for small talk. No shit!
Then he reached out and turned the music back up to the level I had it on. Lou didn't want to talk. Crud. Now I felt bitchy because he wasn't talking, but my brain went into high gear recalling everything Davis Lee ever said about the man.
"The Indian never chats. He only speaks if he has something to say. If he does say something, better listen. You probably need to hear whatever it is."
And there were other things. "He knows his stuff; nobody is more dependable, and the man is tough as nails."
Davis Lee thought a lot of this man, Louis. I pictured the two of them working together out on the boat, and the need for Davis hit me as strong as ever. What wasn't quite so bad was the cracking of my heart as it broke inside. I could picture his smiling face without wanting to curl up into a ball and hide.
I supposed I had made progress of a sort. I forgot about Lou over in the shotgun seat and thought about Davis Lee as I drove through Sutton toward Eureka Summit. It was the first time in a very long time I tried to think of him. I pulled memories up of the good times; I could finally picture some without feeling like I wanted to pull over and cry until I couldn't move.
For over twenty miles, neither of us said a word. When we finally rounded the turn that brought the Matanuska Glacier into view, Lou broke the silence.
"Stopping? It's quite a sight."
I'd driven past the glacier so many times; it was almost old hat. "This your first time seeing the glacier up close?"
"Yeah. Sure must have been something else when the first man came through here."
That was the longest sentence I heard out of the man, and he was right. At one point the ice must have filled the entire valley. There are several good places to pull over, I got the truck off the road and parked.
Both of us got out without speaking. I lined up a couple of shots, then closed down to just stand and take in the view.
"I wonder how they crossed the thing?" I commented.
Another one of his little chuckles sounded off my right shoulder. "A man will do a lot to find something to eat or a place that's easier to live in."
"I wonder what kind of prey would tempt someone out onto a glacier that might open a crevasse and swallow them without a trace."
He tapped my shoulder. "That. Turn your camera." Lou pointed up the slope behind us.
On the other side of the road, a moose picked its way over a patch of rough ground. He was right. Now that he mentioned it, I could see why a hunter would keep on following as big a prize as the one he pointed out.
"That's a lot of meat, isn't it? I see what you mean."
"Yep, it's like fishing. You keep on going and hope you hit the big one."
That made sense to me. Before fishermen got money for the catch, they went out on the ocean to find food to eat.
I agreed. "An empty belly is a good motivator." When I folded up the monopod, I was smiling. The moose picture would probably be a good one. Nice backdrop, a close-up, and the animal actually turned its head in my direction.
"If the empty belly belongs to someone you're responsible for it's an even bigger call to action."
Davis Lee had been correct about Lou. He spoke when he had something worth saying. I got over to the driver's door, and before I reached for it, Lou had the thing open and popped open the other door for me to put the photography stuff away.
I wasn't used to having stuff done for me since Davis died. He did things like that. Davis Lee opened doors for me, made coffee in the morning, and even cooked when he was home, and I still worked. Entirely out of the habit of being treated like a lady, it did fluster me a bit.
I did wonder what the man's motives were, being me. But I just didn't see this guy wanting into my pants. He's my age, and there's younger stuff to be chasing out there. I had a real desire to find out what was going on in Lou's head.
Curiosity bit, and I decided to find out what made this particular silent type tick. He was an enigma, and what little I did know about him didn't give me any clue to the workings of his mind. How to worm it out of the man was the problem, but there were quite a few miles ahead to work out a plan.
As you're driving east on the Glenn Highway toward Glennallen, once you pass the old lodge on the east side of Gunsight Mountain, behind you is a spot with an excellent view of the mountain. What sets this scene apart is the ribbon of asphalt that winds around the base of the mountain. The only problem is, there's no actual pull off. Furthermore, I didn't want that big boat to pass us.
I pulled off on the shoulder, what little there is, didn't bother with the monopod and jumped out of the truck. The camera came on as I slid out of the door.
A harrumph kind of sound issued from Lou, which I ignored. The camper I passed had turned off at a view point pullout a couple of miles back, and I didn't think they would get back on the road too soon. The fishing boat was the only one I cared about, and the driver wouldn't be stopping to take pictures.
After taking three quick shots, I hopped back into the cab, tossed the camera to Lou, got my belt back on, and put the truck into gear. "Would you please stuff the camera into the case for me? If you'd stick the case back behind my seat, I would appreciate it."
"That's not exactly a good pullout. Not much shoulder."
A certain amount of sharpness in the tone he used with me over my actions had me ready to call him on it, but I held my tongue. We had a lot more miles to cover and being at odds a third of the way into this drive probably wasn't the best of ideas.
Of course, the small matter of the correctness of his observation registered. But I was real good at pulling off on the side of the road, catching the pictures I wanted,
and getting back on the road before whatever I had passed like a bat out of hell, caught me.
Davis Lee had calmed me down a little when we got married. Since his death, all curbs were removed. Like a horse without a bit in its mouth, I wouldn't be easy to rein in. I did what I liked and to hell with the rest. If I got a ticket, fine. I would be the one paying the damn thing.
I thought I was doing pretty good keeping my mouth shut when I wanted to jump Lou's shit. It's my truck and my hide. If I feel like taking a chance on getting either one creamed out, that's my problem.
Like a smart man, he put the camera away, slipped the case behind my seat, and kept his lip zipped. That made me happy.
I wanted a few pictures of the Tazlina Glacier shining in the sun. It would be easy to get them because of the long pullout alongside the highway at the summit of the pass. My problem stemmed from the boat and a couple of motor homes. All three vehicles were bunched up behind each other, and I caught sight of them through the viewfinder when I snapped the pictures of the highway.
I wanted the pictures, and decided it would be worth the trouble, so I looked over at Lou. "Listen, I'm going to pull over up here. I want pictures of the glacier, but there's that bunch of motor homes and the boat behind us. You want pictures, snap them as quickly as you can. Don't bother with any other stuff. We don't have time for you to be polite to me. I don't want to work to pass all three going down into the basin. Places to pass are slim between here and Glennallen."
Lou grunted. I figured that might be as much of a reply as I would get here. My lack of manners irritated the man. That was just too damn bad. I never claimed to be Miss Manners. Besides, all that polite stuff left me feeling as if I had to live up to being someone I wasn't.
I jumped out of the truck without cutting the ignition, raced out and got what I hoped would be good shots. We jumped back into the truck and took off again. One of the motor homes could be seen just coming up over the brow of the hill as I sprayed gravel over the pullout when I punched the accelerator.
Not another word was said as we raced down the road. With the windows open, and the tunes loud, I could ignore the irritated man in the opposite seat. All was right with my world. Lou's, maybe not so much.
As we neared Glennallen, it occurred to me I might have been somewhat harsh. I could have phrased the whole thing differently. Two things had occurred to me and bounced around in my brain. As James' employee, I probably would see him around. The other thing, garden variety curiosity nagged at me with all kinds of questions.
He avoided the questions I put to him earlier. Perhaps not quite avoided, I think the term might be evaded. Another thing ate at me. How much did this man know about me? How much had Davis Lee Smith said to him and the other crew members about us? I didn't have an idea in the world how to go about finding the others, but Lou was right here in the truck.
Once again, it seemed I had done what Davis ragged me about more than anything else; opened mouth and inserted foot. Instinctively I knew acting sickeningly sweet with this man was out of the question. His back would probably go so high up; he would insist on my letting him out of the truck. Then he would hitchhike back, and I would get a bunch of guff from James, Angel and Dorcas. No, Lou wouldn't succumb to eyelash batting.
There was no hope. I had to apologize. Damn it all to hell! Those two little words, I'm sorry, were the only thing that might have a hope in hell of working, and I had better be sincere. I spent the twenty miles into Glennallen framing the thing I hoped would reestablish a rapport of sorts.
The first thought in my mind, why not stop at the restaurant in Glennallen and buy the man lunch, seemed like a good idea at the time. But I screwed up with the "buy the man" part.
"Nope. I buy or nothing."
I surely should have guessed that from the door opening reaction. "We could each pay for their own..." Equally stupid on my part.
Lou shook his head and glared at me. "No."
"Alright then, you buy the food! I give up. After we eat, we'll get on down the Richardson to the turnoff for Chitina."
He pointedly opened the door to the restaurant and put one hand on the small of my back when I walked in. I jumped as if he touched me with a cattle prod. Then I began to feel slightly guilty. I doubted he meant anything by the gesture. It was his Mr. Manners showing.
Jeeze! If I had known what a mess this would turn out to be, I might have found my own "muscle." The only thing going well on this trip was the picture thing and the drive.
Come to think of it, I'd driven this at my usual pace, 65 mph where I must and 85 mph the rest of the time, and not heard one complaint or mumble out of the man. Usually, most men started to grumble under their breath or outright complained about my driving within the first twenty miles.
Once we got seated and had looked at the menus, I took a casual glance at the man, only to find he had already folded the menu and was watching me.
"Whatdaya want?"
"A BLT. We made pretty good time, don't ya think?" I fished for complaints.
"Yup."
And that was it. Not one word came out of his mouth about my driving skills or lack thereof. I wondered if working on the Bering Sea for all those years knocked all fear out of him. Then, came the tiniest little lift of the corner of his mouth. The small grin nearly got lost in the fine weather lines on his face.
"You trying to get a rise out of me?" A little shrug followed that long sentence. "You're competent. I'm good."
Just like that, no more comments out of his mouth. Louis was okay with my driving. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Maybe I had tried to intimidate him a little. This man was a puzzle and a half. All my usual methods of keeping males at bay did not get the desired effects with this guy.
He had me off-balance, and I didn't care for that one lousy bit. Worse, I suspected he was doing his best to keep me from getting the answers to the questions I had. This situation could not continue. Once I got him off the main road onto the McCarthy highway, I planned to grill him.
As it happened, stopping for lunch worked to my advantage after all. That fishing boat, the one on its slow way to Valdez, got in front of us. Tourist season in Alaska means the narrow two lane roads are full of vehicles. The few places open enough for passing didn't work out due to the amount of traffic.
We crawled along behind the boat and had slim to no chance of passing it. If the guy didn't obey the pull-over-when-you-have-traffic-backed-up-behind-you rule, we were stuck.
Climbing the big hill right out of Glennallen, there wasn't any place for the thing to pull over anyway. I just throttled back, and we crawled up the hill behind the big boat.
After turning down the volume on the music, I dove right in. "You never did say why you aren't out fishing. What's the deal?"
"I'm done. Pushing forty real hard. I've been at this since I was a kid. I need something else."
Things began to look up. I got about three whole sentences out of the man. "How come you didn't go back home? Surely your family must miss you?" With that question, the gloves came off.
"For someone who didn't want to talk, you sure ask a lot of personal questions."
True. "You started this."
"Come again?" There was a note of confusion in his tone.
"When you told James, you knew who I was 'cause you crewed with Davis Lee, you got me to thinking about stuff; remembering things."
"How does that lead to my getting questioned about my history?"
"I recalled stuff he said about you. That led to what I don't know about you."
Lou wiggled around in the passenger seat as if he had suddenly found a pokey thing in the padding. "There's nobody to go home to. You and I are in the same boat, in a manner of speaking."
I, for damn sure, would not let him go with that. "You a widower?"
He stayed quiet a long time before he responded to the question. A little sigh prefaced the admission. "Yeah, I am. No kids either, like you."
That shut me up for
a while. There was a lot more I wanted to ask, but his reference to personal questions had me wondering if I wanted to go there. That was the big question here. Before I formulated what I wanted to say or do, he laid one on me.
"Why no kids?"
Suddenly, it seemed I had unlocked Lou, and I wasn't entirely pleased with the result. But he gave me no choice. Unless I planned to be super bitch, I had to reply. "Nature, I suppose. We never got around to the mechanics of the matter. Davis got sick first. Then it was imperative that I not get pregnant."
At last, a break appeared in oncoming traffic on a straight stretch. I got enough of an opening to get around the boat. I punched the little six, and she roared to life. Once again, I was free and doing 80 mph, leaving the slow moving boat far astern.
"Davis was a good man. Why the hate on for all things male?"
I should've left Lou alone. I didn't want to answer the question. Yes, Davis Lee Smith was one in a million, and that was the entire problem. Perversely, I took the old Edgerton Highway turnoff. The dirt road would be slower than the straight shot down the new highway, but the twisting track might shut him up for a while. Not a logical decision on my part.
He waited until we are a mile or so in before turning sideways in the seat. "I answered you. How about it?"
This one was so far down into my being; I didn't know if I had a way to verbalize it.
"Molly?"
My name came out softly, and I almost didn't hear him. "I don't know if I can explain. Davis was more than good. The man was everything I ever wanted. It was like we slipped together and twisted into place. We locked together and....."
I choked up and wasn't able to say any more. If one more word came out, I would need to pull the truck over and dig out napkins. I clamped my mouth shut; I couldn't speak.
"Uh huh, and you aren't willing to try again. It's easier to be alone than to take a chance on finding that again."
I blinked hard as I tried to keep from crying. I thought I might be in danger of hyperventilating. Damn it!
Road Talk Page 2
