Chapter Twenty-six

Jessie paused at the trailhead to Elk Meadow, catching her breath. She had jogged at her usual time, hoping to meet Chris on the road. She was oddly disappointed when no Jeep passed her. She shrugged and started up the trail. She would run into her sooner or later, she knew. She also knew that she was hoping Chris could be the one to help her bridge the gap between Annie and herself. That is, if Chris would be willing.

She jogged the two-mile loop without really seeing it, her mind absorbed with the prospect of meeting Annie. She was surprised when she was again back at the trailhead. She slowed to a fast walk to cool down, then finally to a slow walk as she got off the road and hiked the stream to her cabin.

After her shower, she went about unpacking some of the personal things she had brought with her this time. She held up the painting that she had picked up years ago in San Francisco, elk grazing in a meadow, spring flowers all around them, mountains in the distance.

It was this painting that had kept her sane all these years. There was already a nail over the fireplace, so she pulled a chair closer and hung the painting, getting down to see if it was straight.

Too low, but she shrugged. It would have to do. She had a few books, in case she got the urge to read, and she put these on the small bookshelf. A clock for the kitchen and a spice rack that she'd bought in Sacramento went on the counter. Her crystal wineglasses had survived the trip intact and she put those away, along with the few other cooking utensils she had picked up after her flight. She added water to the vase on the table, taking a quick sniff of the fresh flowers. They would last a few more days, she thought.

She made a sandwich for lunch, taking it on the porch along with a glass of tea. Before long, a Steller's jay spotted her and swooped down on the railing, eyeing her suspiciously. She pulled off a corner of the crust and tossed it for the bird, making a mental note to pick up some birdseed and a feeder. She had always enjoyed watching the birds at the feeders when she was growing up. She thought that must be one of Annie's hobbies, because neither she nor Jack ever filled the feeders that she could remember. But they were always full. She remembered now how Annie would sit on the back porch after dinner while she and Jack watched television or she did her homework. What was she doing out there by herself all those evenings? Watching birds? Thinking? Wishing she could enjoy their company in the living room? Jessie again felt a wave of loneliness and guilt settle over her. Her mother had spent most of her adult life in isolation, even in her own home.

Jessie stared out at the trees, wondering why she never asked her mother anything. As a child, was she so consumed with her father that she didn't even notice her mother? And later, so filled with resentment, that she couldn't stand the sight of her? Yes. She knew now what she didn't know then. She blamed Annie for what Jack had done to her.

But she didn't want to think about it now. She took her plate back inside and grabbed the car keys off the counter.

She drove back up Pine Street to the main road and turned towards town, passing the ranger station on her way. She spotted the dusty black Jeep around back and she was surprised at the tightening in her chest. She shook it off and drove slowly through town, glancing down Nevada Street where the Rock House Cafe was. Only two cars were parked in front and she figured the lunch crowd had already gone. She turned her attention back to the road, passing the few shops that were still open this time of year. A lot of the tourist shops, those that catered to the biking crowd, closed after Labor Day, not to open again until May. The ones that were still open would probably close after the Christmas holidays. Just outside of town was the Pine Creek Lodge. It had been called the Sierra Lodge back when Jessie was a kid. It looked bigger now and she thought it must have been expanded. In those days, the rental shop was not there, she noted, as rows of mountain bikes stood chained to the rack.

A few miles outside of town, she turned left on the forest road, surprised at how familiar everything was to her. She had avoided this road when she had been here in August, but now, she drove confidently, knowing exactly where she was, remembering every turn. Suddenly, she clamped down hard on the steering wheel. There it was, the house she had grown up in, standing tall on the hill, like always. The trees were bigger, she noted, but little else had changed. The two-story log cabin looked as familiar to her now as it had sixteen years ago. She slowed to a crawl as she passed the driveway, looking at the fading geraniums planted around the mailbox. She sped up then, hoping Annie wasn't sitting on the back porch. She would hate to be caught spying this way. She had originally thought she would be able to turn in and drive right up to the house, but she had been unable to bring herself to do it. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? It had been sixteen years, after all. She had said some terrible things to Annie then. It wouldn't surprise her if Annie slammed the door in her face. She drove on up the road, past the old bridge that looked exactly the same. She stopped on the other side and got out, remembering the time she had caught hell from her father for going skinny-dipping in the stream one hot summer. Of course, being the only girl with three boys hadn't helped. She must have been all of ten. She smiled slightly, remembering that carefree time in her life where the summers seemed to last forever. She tried to think of their names. Ricky Burton and his twin brothers, but their names wouldn't come to her. They had moved away the following year and she had lost her only playmates. But it didn't matter. That was the last summer she remembered fondly. After that, well... things changed.

She drove a little farther on the forest road before turning around. She had lost the courage to see Annie today. She only slowed a fraction coming down the hill, turning to her left briefly to look at the house. She drove back through town, then on impulse, turned onto Nevada Street and stopped in front of the Rock House Cafe. What she really wanted was a cold beer.

There were only a handful of people in there this time of day. Only one table was occupied, the rest of the patrons sat at the bar. She walked to a corner booth, feeling the eyes of the locals on her. She didn't recognize any of them, but it had been a long time. She wondered if the man Jack used to call Tree still owned the bar. She had her answer when a giant of a man stepped from the kitchen and walked towards her.

"What can I get you, miss?" he asked. His gray hair was cut close in a military fashion and the sleeves of his flannel shirt were rolled to his elbows. He had a white bar towel slung over one large forearm and a pen stuck behind his right ear. She thought he looked every bit the bartender.

"I'll have a draft beer, please," she said.

"Budweiser or Coors?"

"Budweiser will do."

"Coming right up." He ambled away, catching an order for another pitcher without even looking at the table behind him.

"Hey, Tree, did you hear about them catching that man that did in those two boys this summer?"

Jessie looked up at the table where the two men were sitting. Judging by their uniforms, they were two of the many locals who worked in the casinos in Reno.

"No, I hadn't heard," he said as he expertly topped off a cold mug, then proceeded to fill a pitcher with the same.

"I just saw Roger on the street. They arrested some guy in San Francisco who had their wallets. Ends up being some big drug thing, Roger said. Seems Senator Jackson's boys got mixed up with the wrong crowd."

"Folks will forget about that come election time, Ray." Tree put down a napkin and set her mug on top of it. "Here you go, miss."

"Thank you."

"Run a tab?"

"Oh, no. This will be all." She took out a crumbled five-dollar bill from her jeans pocket. "How much?"

"Buck fifty," he said. He smiled at her and she noticed that his eyes were nearly the same color as his hair.

"In that case, I will have another and keep the change."

"Sure thing, miss."

She took a long swallow of the cold beer. She rarely drank beer in New York. Wine was her favored drink. She wondered why she felt inclined to drink it here. Even in August, she had enjoyed a cold beer after her afternoon hikes. She sat there quietly, playing with her napkin. When her beer was finished, she motioned for Tree to bring her the other one.

Just then the door opened and Tree stopped on his way to her booth.

"McKenna," he greeted.

"Tree. Seen Roger?"

Jessie heard the too familiar voice and she sat back against the seat, her pulse pounding. The last place she wanted to run into Chris was the local beer joint.

"Nah. He never comes in before four-thirty. Ray said he seen him out front earlier." Tree brought her new mug and set it down on a fresh napkin. "Here you go, miss."

"McKenna, he was heading out to the campgrounds," one of the men called to her.

"Okay, thanks."

Jessie heard the door close and breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she would have to see Chris sooner or later, but she hoped that meeting could be held in private. After all, the last time Jessie had seen her, they had been on the ledge, Chris wanting to make love to her, and she wanting... well, some sort of punishment.