“How long have you two lived here?” she asked.
Jerry swallowed. “We moved here about fifteen years ago from Portland.”
“It was quite a change,” Jolene confessed. “I miss Powell’s City of Books.”
“But we wanted land,” Jerry went on. “Wanted to grow our own food, be totally self-sustaining.”
Jolene smiled. “And we did it. Our house up there is net zero energy. We’ve got an air-source heat pump and solar panels.”
“The short summers are the tough thing,” Jerry went on. “Not too much time to grow food. So we built a greenhouse, and that helps.”
“Sounds amazing. I’d like to see your place.”
Jolene patted her hand. “You come up anytime you want.”
“Thanks.”
After they’d eaten, Jolene walked over to a cabinet in the lobby. “Have you seen this, Alex?” she asked, opening it. Stacks upon stacks of board games lay inside.
Alex stood up. “Hey, cool! I hadn’t done much exploring in here.”
Jolene considered the games. “Want to play Clue?”
“Sure.” Alex hadn’t played that game since she was ten.
They cleared the table and spent the evening trying to figure out if the culprit was Colonel Mustard or Mrs. Peacock. Just seeing the board, which was the same version she’d played as a kid, reminded her of wonderful evenings spent with her parents. They loved to play board games together, often staying up way too late on weekends to finish a game. She felt a painful lump in her throat when a powerful memory came to her of her mom, leaning over the board in concentration.
But board games weren’t her mother’s favorite pastime. More than anything, she liked to create what she called “survival games” for Alex to play. She’d describe a scenario, usually a potentially deadly one, and Alex had to think her way out of it, using only the items at hand. Her mom would even time her. The games got more elaborate as Alex got older, and her mom started to create escape rooms and more advanced puzzles for Alex to work out. On her tenth birthday, her mother had taken Alex out to the middle of the woods, given her a backpack with a few supplies, and left her to find her way home. Alex had made it back in four hours, both exhilarated and a little pissed off.
Her dad had never liked these challenges. Thought they were too dark, that Alex was a kid and should be allowed to just play and be innocent. But her mother had insisted Alex be prepared for any situation. But the one situation she hadn’t prepared Alex for was her mother’s sudden death, leaving them bereft.
In so many ways, her loss still didn’t feel real. Surely her mother was just on some long trip, living on a remote island that didn’t have phones. Alex could imagine her coming home one day, sitting once again with Alex’s dad in front of a fire, both reading.
“Alex?” Jolene asked.
Alex snapped back to the present. “Yes?”
“It’s your turn. You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”
They played for another half hour until the mystery was solved. Then Jolene announced that they had to go. The drive back to their place, bordering the far eastern side of the preserve, meant a long trip, first down the main road and then up a winding dirt road to their house. Alex thanked them both for coming and bringing the pizza, then walked them out to their car.
When they left, she came inside and packed up the game. She looked at her watch. It was still early. She could look through the images on her memory cards.
On the first card she checked, she’d had a number of visitors, but no wolverines. Two pine martens had pranced along the run pole, along with curious red squirrels. Both the martens and the squirrels had set off hair snares, and she labeled her envelopes accordingly. Returning to the images, she found photos of wind moving in the trees and several Clark’s nutcrackers that landed in front of the camera. In the distance, deer meandered by.
She was halfway through the photos on the second memory card when she cried out in surprise.
A wolverine.
It had triggered four of the clips. Then it had stretched up to get at the bait, fully exposing its belly. A lighter, yellowish tan pattern of fur revealed itself, and she clapped her hands together in excitement. As it left, it set off the other two clips. Eagerly, she found the corresponding envelopes and marked the hair samples Gulo gulo.
“I got one!” she yelled, punching a victorious fist into the air.
She scrolled through the rest of the photos, finding more images of the branches moving in the breeze, some more deer, and even a herd of mountain goats wandering past.
She went back to the wolverine photos, clicking with joy through each frame the camera had captured. Another benefit of capturing the ventral surface meant she could even tell what sex it was—in this case, a female.
Elated that she’d captured her first wolverine image, she thought of calling Zoe. She looked at her watch. It was 8:30 p.m. in California. Zoe might be out to dinner or on the set. She decided to risk it.
Taking up her seat behind the reception desk, she dialed her friend’s number.
“How’s life in the Great White North?” Zoe said as she picked up.
“I don’t know if this qualifies as the Great White North. I think that’s a lot more . . . well, north.”
“It’s all Timbuktu to me. So how is it?”
Alex grinned. “Actually, I got a photo of a wolverine today! They’re using the preserve!”
Zoe laughed. “Only you could get totally excited about a giant weasel.”
“They’re so much more than giant weasels. Wolverines are fascinating. Did you know that there was a captive wolverine who was an artist? He’d break up sticks and insert them in a chain-link fence, rearranging them into different patterns, then take them all down again and start over.”
Zoe sighed. “Why couldn’t I have picked a normal friend? One who liked to shop? Or who knew the difference between Dior and Prada?”
“Those are types of luxury cars, right?” Alex teased.
Zoe sighed with mock disgust. “Well, I’m happy for you, Alex. As long as you’re happy.”
“I am, Zoe. It’s wonderful out here. I did have one weird thing happen, though.”
“What’s that?”
“My remote camera took a photo of some strange guy passing through.”
“Like a trespasser?”
“I don’t know. I had the sheriff out here, but we didn’t find anything.”
“Creepy.”
“It was a little, actually.”
“You’re being careful, right?” Zoe asked. “I mean, if there are poachers out there, you’re keeping an eye out.”
“I am.” Alex crossed her legs on the stool. “So what’s new with you?”
“I’m going out to celebrate tonight. We wrapped up principal shooting today. What a relief. That director was the most disorganized scatterbrain I’ve ever worked with. Sometimes he’d just stare and zone out after a take, forgetting to say Cut! I’m worried it’s going to be a total flop.”
“It can’t be a total flop if you’re in it,” Alex assured her.
Zoe laughed. “And that right there is why you’re my best friend.” Alex could hear her friend rushing around, the clinking of hangers and the zip of a dress.
“Rob taking you out tonight?”
“Yep. He’s taking me to some vegan restaurant.”
“You’re going to love that.”
“I might. It’s possible. Have you heard anything from Brad?”
Alex sighed. “No. I’m pretty sure it’s over.”
“Wow. You two were together forever.”
Alex nodded, even though Zoe couldn’t see her. “Almost eight years.”
“Too weird to think of you two broken up.”
Alex wanted to change the subject. “Have the police learned anything more about that second shooter?”
“Not a thing. Guy escaped scot-free.”
A vivid image of the gunman’s skull explo
ding from the distant shot flashed through her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She wondered if she’d ever get that image out of her head, the gunman crumpling into the mud, followed by the most intense sensation of relief that she’d ever felt. Whoever the second gunman had been, he’d saved her life, and Christine’s, too. Alex heard Zoe spritzing herself with perfume. “I should let you go so you can get ready for your date.”
“Okay, well, be careful out there. Don’t turn into Grizzly Adams or anything.”
“I don’t think the beard would look too good on me. Though I’d love to have a bear for a best friend.”
“What?” Zoe cried. “You’d rather have a smelly old bear than a glamorous Hollywood actor?”
“Depends on how good a listener the bear was.”
“Bears are crap at listening. Everyone knows that.” The doorbell rang and Zoe said excitedly, “He’s here!”
It was good to hear her friend so happy. “Have a good night.”
“You too. Don’t get eaten or anything.”
“I’ll try not to.”
They hung up, and Alex returned to the photos. She backed them all up, then erased the memory cards to switch out tomorrow. Now that she’d actually recorded a wolverine, she couldn’t wait to check the other camera stations.
She yawned, her eyes growing heavy as she stared at the computer screen. She thought back to what Zoe had said. You two were together forever. It did seem that way.
She’d first met Brad when she was an undergrad. She’d been demonstrating on the Berkeley campus against a tar sands pipeline that an oil company wanted to route through the United States. Tar sands were a gooey, thick geological deposit containing bitumen, a sludgy type of petroleum that was difficult to extract oil from. To access it, whole forests were razed and dug up, destroying habitat. Leaks from a tar sands pipeline were common because of the corrosive, acidic nature of the substance. Tar sands were heavy and thick, so when they spilled into a waterway, they immediately sank to the bottom, making cleanup exceedingly difficult. Spills could be devastating to sources of drinking water, and so she’d joined the group of activists that day to protest the pipeline.
She stood out in the sun, chanting, with her picket sign that read leave it in the ground! When she first saw Brad, she’d been rocked to her core. He was walking along the main pathway, a charming smile on his face. Their eyes met, and an instant buzz of electricity shot through her. He had a mysterious allure about him. He’d grinned at her, and she’d smiled back, electrified.
One of the petitioners stopped him, handing him a clipboard full of signatures. She told him of their cause—how they were fighting to prevent disastrous oil spills—and asked if he’d join them. Alex waited, wondering if he’d sign, hoping he would instead of just walking away with indifference. Her heart skipped a beat when he took the pen and added his name. Alex couldn’t hear what they were saying above all the chanting, but Brad listened intently, then joined their ranks. His eyes met hers again, and he walked right toward her.
Suddenly she was self-conscious. Was her hair okay? It had been blowing in the wind all afternoon. How fresh was her breath? She reached into her pocket for a piece of mint gum and popped it surreptitiously into her mouth as he approached.
“Quite a group you all have gathered here.”
She almost swallowed her gum in an effort to speak. “Yes,” she said, racking her brain to think of something interesting to say. “We’re trying to bring about awareness of the dangers of human-caused climate change. We want more investment in renewable energy and fewer fossil fuels promoted by energy companies.”
“Sounds like you all could use a good lawyer.” He held his hand out. “Brad Tilford. Prelaw.”
She slid her hand into his, finding his grip warm and firm. “Alex Carter. Wildlife biology.” She had to look away because his smile and the intensity of his eyes were making her giddy. It was ridiculous. Was this love at first sight? Did such a thing exist? She felt like she knew him already. She joined into the chant for a few more rounds, then faced him when her composure returned. “So are you going to grow up to be an evil lawyer or a lawyer for good?”
“Definitely the forces of good. I’m specializing in civil rights law. I volunteer at the community center down the street.”
Alex brightened even more. She felt an uncanny connection to him, and learning that he was doing something good for the world at large meant a lot to her.
“That’s wonderful,” she told him.
And so they’d hit it off. They had coffee that afternoon after the rally, then dinner later on in the week. Soon they were studying at each other’s apartment and spending afternoons reading and walking in Tilden Park. All through his undergrad he continued to volunteer for different community causes. By the time he went on to law school, he was firmly on the path to being a lawyer for positive social change.
Alex finished her BS in wildlife biology and went on for a fast-track PhD in the same field, scoring a much-sought-after research fellowship with Professor Brightwell.
Brad had gone on to UC Berkeley Law. Their future looked so promising to Alex. She’d found someone who shared her passion for making the world a better place. They laughed a lot and went to art and movie festivals. The Bay Area proved to be an amazing place to fall in love: walks on the beach, strolls in Golden Gate Park, myriad film and art festivals, all with nature close by—Point Reyes National Seashore, Muir Woods, Big Basin Redwoods State Park.
The more time they spent hiking and being outdoors, though, the more Alex started to realize he wasn’t as excited about it as she was. He went along with it at first so cheerfully that Alex thought he did love the wild.
But he started to bow out of planned camping trips and hikes, and Alex began going out more and more by herself. She camped in Yosemite and Joshua Tree National Parks, watched the California gulls at Mono Lake, and the pikas in the Bodie Hills, always by herself.
They finished grad school in the same semester and Alex couldn’t wait to land an interesting postdoc research fellowship. She had asked Brad where he wanted to end up, maybe at his own firm that could specialize in civil rights law or as a junior attorney in a bigger firm where he could be the go-to equal rights person. He’d been vague, avoiding any talk of it.
So she was utterly surprised when he took a job at a corporate law firm. He’d never shown interest in it before, and it was the antithesis of what he’d dreamed about doing, helping people.
To stay with him in the Bay Area, she’d taken a job at a consulting firm that did environmental impact surveys, and at first everything had been okay. They were making enough money to rent a beautiful Victorian house in Berkeley. Brad worked long hours, and Alex felt excited at the possibility of making a difference for wildlife. If she reviewed the site of a planned development and found a threatened species or other environmental impacts that were unacceptable, her company could recommend halting the development. For the first time in her life, she felt that the work she was doing really meant something, was making a difference.
Brad grew more distant, working late, schmoozing with the law partners. When he invited her to company parties, it was always awkward. She even met a few of his clients whom her company had blocked from developing properties. They weren’t pleased to meet her.
And then the Great Debacle had happened.
She’d been sent by her employer to do an environmental impact survey for a proposed seaside resort and golf course. She’d found threatened snowy plovers there and recommended they block the development. But her employers suggested that she hide the fact that she’d found the birds. She was astounded and refused. Then they offered her a substantial sum of money to change her report. She still refused, in disbelief this was even happening. When she returned to work after the following weekend, she found that her report had been altered and sent out to the developers, omitting the plovers and giving the all clear. The development would move ahead.
She told Brad about it
, but the developers were clients at his firm, and his boss was an investor in the project. The boss had suggested to Brad that it would be in his best interest to get Alex to go along with the plan. Brad had tried to convince her to leave it alone, but she couldn’t live with the thought of needed habitat for a threatened species being destroyed just so people could play golf.
At the groundbreaking a few days later, with the investors and press there, she’d seized the microphone and exposed the whole seedy situation. One of the main investors, a staunch environmentalist, immediately withdrew his money, forcing the development plans to go under.
The next day she’d lost her job with the environmental consulting firm.
The press crucified the developers. Because Brad was connected to Alex, his boss fired him, giving some bullshit excuse about how they were downsizing the firm.
In the aftermath, she tried to convince Brad that this kind of law wasn’t what he’d originally wanted to do anyway. But he was too angry to listen. He blamed her for being fired, and they’d broken up. As he left, he’d shouted at her, “I don’t see a future for me as long as you’re by my side.”
They spent six months apart, and then Brad called her from Boston. He’d gotten another corporate law job there. He said he missed her, that he couldn’t imagine a future without her. He wanted to put what had happened behind them. He asked her to move out there. Since she hadn’t found a new permanent job yet and had just finished doing a research project at UCB, she joined him, hoping they could work out their differences. She’d gotten a postdoc fellowship studying the northern parula, but being in the heart of the city was difficult. After the debacle in California, Brad never invited her out to office parties or even introduced her to his colleagues.
The money that Brad made was many times what he would have made working for a nonprofit that helped minorities and women. He developed a taste for luxury cars and living in expensive high-rises, for eating at restaurants with forty-dollar entrées and always using valet parking.
A Solitude of Wolverines Page 10
