Chapter Nine

Jessie parked her rental car in front of the office and took a deep breath of mountain air as she walked around the car. The late-August sun felt good on her skin and she couldn't wait to trade her slacks for shorts. Looking around, she was surprised at how familiar everything seemed. The roads going through town were still not paved and she remembered riding down them on her bike, dust flying, going to meet her father at the ranger station. She looked up at the trees and smiled, remembering how big they looked to her as a child, how she used to put her arms around their trunks and try to touch her fingers on the other side. Of course, she never could. She got out and breathed deeply, letting the still familiar smell wash over her. Sixteen years. Just like yesterday, she thought.

She heard the screen door open and she turned toward the cabin, surprise showing in her eyes. She slipped the sunglasses back on quickly as Mary Ruth Henninger came down the steps, looking every bit of fifty, though Jessie knew her to be in her late seventies by now.

"Welcome, dear. You must be Miss Parker."

Jessie took the offered hand, smiling slightly at the firm handshake of the older woman.

"I'm a little late, I'm afraid," Jessie apologized.

"Just a few hours. I know how traffic can be in those big cities. Come inside and we'll get you fixed up, dear."

Jessie followed her up the steps, knowing it was not the traffic that made her late, but rather a trip to the grocery store and her own hesitation at finally coming back here after all this time. It was as if she were afraid of this place. But she hoped sixteen years were long enough. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized by any of the locals who might remember her. She took off her sunglasses only long enough to sign where Mary Ruth asked. She was proud that she didn't hesitate when signing the strange name.

"You know, you look familiar, dear. Have you stayed here before?"

Jessie coughed, then cleared her throat and answered truthfully. Indeed, she had never stayed at Mary Ruth Henninger's cabins before.

"Well, I've got a nice secluded cabin for you, just like you requested. Number seven. Not quite as far back as cabin eight but a new ranger is living there now."

Jessie nodded and politely listened to the directions, thinking she could still find her way around here blindfolded.

As she drove to her cabin, she had a momentary lapse and a pleasant feeling of contentment settled over her, almost as if she were simply on vacation. But she couldn't keep memories away for long and she was soon a little girl again, chasing after her father, loving life to the fullest.

So unlike the woman she had grown to be.

A hardness settled back over her by the time she found her cabin. It wasn't very far off the road, but it was nestled in the trees and there were no other cabins nearby. None that she could see, anyway. She walked around, some of her good humor returning as she watched not three, but four chipmunks come up for a close inspection of their new cabin guest. She heard a squirrel fussing at her from a low hanging branch and she looked up, watching it as it flipped its tail at her before scurrying up the tree a little higher.

She quickly unpacked the rental car, taking the bags of groceries in first and putting the perishables in the refrigerator. She had picked up quite a few things in Sacramento, including a couple of thick steaks. She didn't envision going out for dinner and she certainly didn't want to go to the local grocery store for food. In reality, she couldn't remember the last time she had cooked steaks outside. She finally came to her most important bag. Wine.

She held up a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and nodded. She would have that with her steak tonight. Other bottles followed and she put the pinot grigio and chardonnay in the refrigerator to chill, the rest lined the small counter space next to the sink.

She went back outside for her two bags of clothes and walking back into the cabin, she finally took the time to look around. The sofa was worn, but looked clean. The small lamp on the end table had been left on for her and it brought a coziness to the room, despite the bare walls. She shrugged. Certainly not the fancy hotel she had stayed in last night in San Francisco, but it had a welcoming warmth that she was never able to find in a city.

She changed into shorts and put on the new hiking boots she had bought. It had been sixteen years since she had on hiking boots. Her exercise these days was jogging in city parks with hundreds of others and she was actually looking forward to a little solitude on the trails. She walked towards the woods behind the cabin and found a small stream, barely three feet across and she jumped it easily. A little farther along, though, she came upon a cabin and stopped. One of the Henninger's, she supposed. She followed the stream until she came to the road, then walked the short distance to a trailhead that she remembered. Elk Meadow Trail, a two-mile hike to the meadow and back would be easy enough. A good way to get back into the swing, so she started out, ignoring the notice that everyone should sign in before going into the forest. She followed the trail, pushing childhood memories away and letting her mind go blank. She tried to remember the names of the trees. Sugar pine, of course. Who could forget a tree with twenty-inch pinecones? She easily picked out a white pine and Douglas fir. Then she stood next to a spruce and the name would not come to her, much to her disappointment. She walked on, finally getting close enough, and she grinned. An incense cedar. Her favorite tree. She stuck her nose next to the bark and inhaled, breaking into laughter at the joy that simple scent brought to her.

She stepped back and looked to the heavens, wondering when the last time was she had laughed out loud. Too many years to remember, she thought. But this was nice and she turned a circle, her arms held out, away from her side, letting this carefree feeling overtake her, relishing in the freedom she suddenly felt.

Then she wandered on, following the trail that she remembered, pausing at the meadow, thinking of all the times she had come here in the spring, running through the wildflowers, chasing butterflies, her father right behind her.

She shook her head. She wasn't ready for that yet. Today, tonight, she just wanted to relax. Tomorrow she would hike up Ridge Trail and remember.

Later that evening, she sat on her porch and waited for the charcoal to heat. Her steak was seasoned and ready and the opened bottle of wine sat conveniently next to her chair. Her mood had changed from apprehensive to dark, to reflective, to melancholy and to just plain content. A feeling she hadn't had in so many years, she hardly recognized it. And she didn't want to lose it now. She closed her eyes and listened to the night sounds. She was thrilled to hear an owl in the woods behind the cabin and she listened as its mate answered from farther in the forest.

The sounds of piano music drifted to her, coming slowly to her senses. She opened her eyes lazily and looked around, wondering who would disturb the night with music. But as she listened, the piano faded into the background, its soothing sound relaxing her as the owls again called to each other. The cabin across the stream, she thought, when she spotted a light through the woods.

Chris sat on her back deck drinking a beer and listening to the soft sounds of the piano. This music always put her to sleep and she yawned now, thinking she should turn it off before she fell asleep right here on the porch. She heard the owl call and looked up into the trees, wondering where he was hiding. She heard Dillon's low mew and chuckled. He, too, was looking into the trees, perhaps looking for the owl.

"You're too fat," she told him. "He'd never carry you off."

She finished her beer in one long swallow and went inside. She turned the music down and picked up the book she was reading. As always, she flipped it over and stared at the author, wanting to ask so many questions. Annie talked freely about Jessie now. Chris suspected that after all these years of keeping her feelings in, this was Annie's way of purging herself. She talked for hours about Jack and Jessie and even Jonathan. Jonathan was dead now, Chris had learned, but Annie didn't seem to grieve for him, not like she did for Jessie.

Chris read only two chapters then stopped, as she did every night. She didn't know why she was prolonging the book, perhaps because this was the fourth book and there were only two more published and she wasn't ready to say goodbye to J. T. Stone. She put it back on the shelf neatly and poured herself a glass of wine before bed. Dillon crawled in her lap and she stroked him, letting him fall asleep as she sipped her wine in the quiet darkness.