Part 2
CHAPTER SIX
Jessie stood on her balcony staring out at the lights of the city, her wineglass held lightly in her hand. She looked up, like she did nearly every night, trying to spot a star, even make out a constellation that she remembered from her childhood, but the lights of the city were too bright, like they always were. Her shoulders drooped and she let out a heavy sigh. Ever since Dr. Davies mentioned going back to Sierra City, she had thought of little else. She remembered chasing after her father down the hiking trails when she was barely old enough to walk, learning to tie flies on her fishing rod, learning the names of the trees in the forest, the birds and animals. She remembered camping with him high above timberline, so cold, even in the summer, that she would shiver all night long. She remembered taking horses from the stables at the lodge and riding into the high country, so far back that it would have taken them days on foot. She remembered the waterfalls they had bathed under and the clear streams they had swam in and the many campfires they had sat around, him telling her stories of his camping trips with his father when he was young. How old had she been? Ten at the most?
What was she doing in this city? Eight years now, so far from the mountains of her childhood. She knew she would go back. Just the thought thrilled her. She had spent the first eight years in San Francisco but she hadn't dared go to the mountains. She couldn't imagine what it would really be like to step into the forest again, to look up at the giant trees. She wondered if Mary Ruth Henninger still rented cabins or if she had passed on? She wondered if the Rock House was still there. She had been too young back then to visit the bar, but she remembered an occasional dinner there. Then she thought of Annie and her heart grew cold. Her so-called mother, the woman who had never been there for her. The woman her father despised. She wondered if Annie even knew she was a writer now, a successful writer. She wondered if Annie even thought of her anymore.
She would go in late August, she decided. After the summer crowds had thinned. She swirled the last bit of her wine and allowed a small smile. It would be good to go back, she admitted. Just to soak up memories, if nothing else.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Chris parked under the small Juniper tree at the edge of the front porch and walked up the steps. Before she could knock, Annie's voice broke the silence.
"I'm back here," she called.
Chris walked into the empty living room and glanced around, wondering where Annie was. She hesitated a moment, then went into the kitchen, leaving the bottle of wine she brought with her. She was just about to call out when Annie came from down the hall, drying her hands on the apron she wore, which was stained with paint. She greeted Chris with a smile and ushered her back into the kitchen.
"So glad you could come, Chris." She spotted the bottle of wine on the counter and picked it up. "Nice. But this was not necessary. I have plenty. On my trips to San Francisco, I stock up on wine. I have quite a cache down in the basement."
"Well, I wanted to bring something," Chris said.
"That was thoughtful, but you'll take this back with you so you can enjoy it another time. I should have warned you though, I don't eat meat. However, I think anyone can get by at least one meal without it. Even Roger."
Chris laughed. "I knew there was a reason I liked you. I'm a vegetarian, too."
Annie grinned and clasped her hand. "What a pleasant coincidence. Now, how about a glass of wine? It's been so long since I've had someone over for dinner, I'm afraid I've forgotten my manners."
Chris watched as Annie pulled two bottles from her refrigerator and held them for Chris' inspection.
"I didn't know which you would prefer. This is a lovely Sauvignon Blanc, one of my favorites. And a Chardonnay. Both will go beautifully with pasta, so you choose," she told Chris.
"Let's do the Sauvignon Blanc then," Chris suggested.
They sat on the porch drinking wine while the casserole finished baking. Annie had a bird feeder hanging off the porch and Mountain Chickadees were fighting for the seeds. An ear of corn in an adjacent tree kept the squirrels busy and two chipmunks were underneath the feeder, foraging for the dropped kernels. The hummingbird feeder was busy as well and they watched in silence as the tiny birds buzzed by. Chris enjoyed the quiet and took a deep breath, savoring the smell of the cedars and pines.
"You like it here?" Annie asked.
"Very much, yes."
"I could tell. The mountains aren't for everyone. Especially women. It takes a certain type, don't you think? One who's not afraid to be alone? I grew up in the city and only came out here for holidays and such. When I married Jack and moved out here, though, it was like coming home. I've never thought of leaving, Chris. Even in my darkest moments, I would never consider going back to the city."
"Do you have family left?"
"No, I've lost touch. There may be cousins and the like. In fact, I'm sure of it, but none that I know. I've been up here forty years, Chris."
"I guess this is home, then."
Annie nodded, watching the squirrels fight for the ear of corn. "You must think I'm a strange bird," she said quietly.
"No. Not at all," Chris said.
"Well, I've got my hobbies and my books. I do miss company, though. I usually talk Roger's ear off whenever he comes by." She stood suddenly. "Let's get that meal on the table. You must be starving."
She went back inside and Chris noted the way she almost floated when she walked. She was a small woman, still very graceful, just a hint of what she was in her younger days, Chris thought.
"This is delicious," Chris said after her first bite. "Dave is nearly starving me to death."
"I figured you ate there." She shook her head disapprovingly. "Nothing but grease, Chris. I doubt the Rock has even one meal with pasta."
Chris nodded. "I think he keeps a bag on hand just for me. It's always a surprise to find out what he plans to serve with it."
"Well, I insist you take leftovers home."
"Okay. But only if you let me help with the dishes."
"Deal. And we'll plan to do this again, if you like."
"I look forward to it."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chris and Greg Manning were riding in the back country, looking for a hiking club from San Francisco. They were only a day past due and that normally wouldn't cause concern, but this group consisted mostly of kids. They had started up the South Rim Trail, which by itself is twenty-seven miles long. But, inevitably, hikers miss the loop trail and keep on into the backcountry, hiking the Nevada Trail for many miles before they realize it.
"You ride pretty good for a girl, McKenna."
"So do you, Greg."
Chris rolled her eyes to the heavens, cursing Roger for making her take Greg along. Besides Bobby, Greg was the only other trained S.A.R. volunteer in Sierra City, but they clashed and Chris would just as soon only use him in emergencies. Roger, however, thought otherwise. Greg was strong, a body builder, and he didn't hide the fact that he thought S.A.R. was no job for a woman. When things slowed down at the end of summer, Chris planned a training session with Greg and Bobby and she'd show him just how qualified she really was. In the meantime, she had to put up with his sexist comments.
"What was Yosemite like?" he asked, ignoring her comment.
"Crowded. Busy. Lots of lunatics from the city."
"You must have fit right in," he said sarcastically.
"Oh, absolutely, Greg," she said just as sarcastically. "You would not have though. Neanderthals were pretty much extinct there." She gave her horse a nudge, breaking into a trot and away from Greg.
They stopped at dark, breaking camp along side a small stream. She radioed in while Greg collected wood for a fire.
"We're following tracks, Roger. It's got to be them."
"Surely they realized they were on the wrong damn trail and headed back," he said. "I told them about the loop trail three times, McKenna. Three times. How hard can it be?"
"I guess that means Matt didn't find anything?"
"Negative. They missed the cutoff."
"We'll start out at first light, Roger. We'll find them tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, if you don't run into them pretty quick, I'll have to call in air support from the County. I'm going to have about fifteen parents getting hysterical real soon. Call me when you start out tomorrow. I'll be here."
It was full dark by the time they had the campfire going and water boiling for their dinner. Greg pulled over a downed tree for them to sit on and Chris stretched her legs out toward the fire.
"It's been awhile since I've been out at night," Greg said.
"Me, too. I like it."
In Yellowstone, Chris had often taken her time off to go camping, stealing a few days to get away from the crowds and hike into the backcountry to be alone. In Yosemite, especially during the summers, there were few days off and even then, it was difficult to find a trail that wasn't occupied by a hundred others. She didn't miss the crowds, that was for sure. Sierra City was a great place to unwind after eight hectic years at Yosemite.
She watched Greg silently, searching her mind for a safe topic they could discuss without egos and testosterone getting in the way. She thought of none. So instead, they added the boiling water to their freeze-dried dinners and sat quietly around the fire listening to owls in the distance and the occasional howl of a coyote.
The next morning, as the sun was just creeping over the mountain peaks, they had their horses saddled and were on the trail again. At nine, they heard the high-pitched singing of adolescent boys. They looked at each other and smiled. Ten minutes later, they came upon the group heading their way.
"Hi there," Greg said, leaning over in his saddle.
"Hello. You're Rangers, I hope." One of the two adults came forward, relief showing on his face.
"Search and Rescue."
"We missed that loop trail Mr. Hamilton was telling us about. We turned around two days ago."
"You're probably two more nights on the trail," Chris said, swinging out of the saddle. "How're your supplies?"
"We should be okay. I guess some of the parents are getting worried?"
"For sure," she said. "I'll radio in and let them know you're okay." She glanced at Greg. "Feel like camping for a couple more nights? One of us should probably stay with them," she suggested. She really wasn't up to two nights with fifteen young boys and two adult men.
"Sure. I can handle it, McKenna. You run on back."
Chris gritted her teeth but managed a brief smile. "I'll leave the radio with you. Just in case you get into trouble."
She rode fast, putting distance between them, trying to ward off the foul mood that had settled over her. Spending time with Greg usually did that to her. She stopped for a moment when she came to a stream crossing to let the horse rest, then she pushed on. It was well after dark when she arrived at the lodge. Bill and Peggy were always kind enough to let them use their horses and Roger tried to compensate them as best the budget would allow. The stable was already closed for the night so Chris brushed down the horse herself. She had pushed the horse hard but she didn't want to spend another night out on the trail. The horse was munching happily on the grain Chris left out and her own stomach let her know she had skipped lunch. She thought about stopping by the Rock but she needed a shower and she wasn't really in the mood for one of Dave's surprises. Canned soup at the cabin sounded better.
After her shower, she sat on the sofa relaxing with a glass of wine. Dillon was curled in her lap, purring loudly, having forgiven her for leaving him alone the night before. She had J. T. Stone's book out and she flipped it over, looking at the picture on the back. She wondered, not for the first time, how she could be so attracted to someone just from a picture. The author was certainly attractive, but it was more than that. Chris thought perhaps it was the eyes that drew her. Dark eyes that seemed to look right into her very soul. Or maybe the lips that just hinted at a smile but never quite made it. She finally flipped the book back over with a slight laugh. J. T. Stone was probably no one she would want to meet, judging from the stories Roger had told her of Jessie's childhood. She was probably one mixed up adult now. Anyone who wrote about murder all the time had to be a little strange.
The next week, when she joined Annie again for dinner, she asked about her daughter.
"Roger's told me some."
"Oh, it's my own fault. I allowed Jack to take her from me. He was obsessed with her, right from the beginning. He wouldn't even allow me to breast-feed. Here I held this week-old baby in my arms and I had to feed her with a bottle."
"You must have loved him very much then."
"Oh, I did, in the beginning. He was very exciting and very handsome. He took me out of the city and brought me here and I loved it. I was happy. Of course, when I found out about his affairs, the first time, I was devastated. But then I got pregnant and I thought it would all be okay, so I just ignored them, you see. He always came home to my bed and I was so young and foolish. I thought that would be enough. Then Jessie came along and he changed. I realized how little he needed me. Even for Jessie, I was just a cook and housekeeper, someone who was here all the time but who wasn't allowed to share in their lives. He taught her that so I can't totally blame her."
"I'm sorry, Annie, for bringing this up. You don't have to tell me," Chris said, mindful of the sadness in Annie's voice.
"Oh, all that happened thirty years ago," she said, waving her hands dismissively at Chris. "That doesn't bother me now." She pushed her plate aside and refilled her wine, this time a dark Cabernet. "I found someone to love me, though," she said quietly.
Chris took a sip from her own glass, waiting for Annie to continue.
"His name was Jonathan and he was an attorney in San Francisco. He was older than me, a widower. I went there to inquire about getting a divorce, you see. But I couldn't go through with it. I always held out some hope that Jessie loved me just a little and if I stayed with her father, then I wouldn't lose her completely. Anyway, Jonathan and I started seeing each other and I fell in love with him. Jessie was only twelve then. I vowed to stay with Jack until she graduated high school, then I was going to be with Jonathan."
She held her wineglass in front of her a long moment before finally taking a swallow. Then she smiled and patted Chris' hand.
"Of course, things never turn out the way we plan, do they? Jack found out about Jonathan and he was furious, to say the least. Never mind that he had women all over the state or that we had not been intimate in years." Her voice grew bitter then and she slammed her hand on the table. "He was a bastard all right. Unfortunately, Jessie was home when he decided to bring it all to light. She heard everything and if there was any love in her for me, it died that day. Oh, her eyes looked at me with contempt and hatred. I had made her daddy cry, you see. I had broken his heart." Annie stood up suddenly and took their plates. "Bullshit, of course, but he was a fine actor," she said as she walked away. "A fine actor."
Chris stayed at the table, trying to imagine this woman's grief. All these years to have lived here alone, carrying such painful memories along. Why did she stay here?
Annie came back and reached over the table to fill their glasses. "I find it's best to be drinking whenever I dwell on this subject. Not that I think about it often, Chris. I couldn't survive if I did. But it helps to remember sometimes."
"What about Jonathan?" Chris asked.
"Well, after Jack's death, he wanted to marry me, but there was Jessie to consider. She had not spoken to me since that evening of our fight. Even after the funeral, nothing. It was as if I didn't exist. I couldn't get through to her. Of course, she blamed me for everything and why not? She knew nothing of Jack's affairs over the years. She only knew what he told her and what she had seen. I never went with them on their camping trips or hiking or fishing. She thought, and was told, I'm sure, that I didn't want to be with them. In truth, I wasn't allowed to go, you see. It's my own damn fault for allowing him that control over me but I was young and foolish. Anyway, it was as if I had pushed him myself, for all Jessie cared. We lived in complete silence for nearly nine months, then she left."
"Forgive me for asking, but do you think Jack ever . . . abused her?"
Annie slid her eyes away quickly and Chris saw the shadows of doubt cross her face, but Annie shook her head.
"No. He wouldn't. It wasn't Jack's style. I mean, he had women. Lots of women," she said.
Chris didn't push. It wasn't her business anyway, although she could see the thought had crossed Annie's mind before. Instead, she moved the conversation back to Jonathan.
"You could have gone to San Francisco, started over," Chris suggested.
"No. I would have been no good for Jonathan then. I stayed here with my sorrow. Wallowed in it, actually." She leaned closer to Chris. "I learned a great deal about wine that first year, Chris," she said quietly, then laughed. "But I always thought that if Jessie needed me for anything, she would at least know where I was. If I moved, how would she find me?"
"But she never did?"
"No. Never. She's done quite well for herself, though." Annie leaned forward and nearly whispered, "Have you noticed how often mothers get murdered in her books? Oh, and not a quick death, either."
Chris laughed with her, impressed again that this woman's spirit had not been broken.
"The only thing I know about her life is what is crammed on the book jacket. Not much, but at least I know she's in New York." Then she shrugged. "You take what you can get, Chris. The rest, you leave to your imagination."
CHAPTER NINE
Jessie parked her rental car in front of the office and took a deep breath. 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 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.
CHAPTER TEN
Jessie stood out on the ledge, looking across the canyon to the other side as the sun's rays broke across the mountain, hitting her face, warming her. She thought she would feel something here and was surprised when it didn't come. Sixteen years ago, her father had stood on this very spot. What had he been thinking? Was he thinking of her? Or was he thinking of Annie and how she had betrayed him? She would never know. Just as she would never know for sure whether he had jumped to his death or simply slipped after coming up here to do some soul-searching. She wanted to think the latter, but she knew in her heart that it wasn't.
This was the first time she had come up here to the ledge since they had found him. She had walked into the canyon the day she left, but she couldn't bring herself to come up here. Now, she looked around, hoping to feel something, wondering why she didn't. Anger. Sorrow. Something. But nothing came. She simply felt empty, like she had these past sixteen years. She sat down on the ledge and leaned over, looking into the canyon some three hundred feet below, imagining the spot where he laid. She couldn't remember exactly where it was, though in her mind she could picture him falling, no scream coming from him, just the resounding thud as he crashed on the rocks below, his broken body empty, her father gone forever.
She took a deep breath and let her tears come, as she knew they would. For sixteen years, she had not shed a one, not once. But she hung her head now and let the sobs rock her until she could cry no more. She sat there for minutes, maybe hours, as the sun rose higher in the sky and the tears dried on her cheeks. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest and rested her damp cheek on her legs, her eyes traveling across the canyon, resting on the evergreens on the other side, unseeing. She felt sorry for herself mostly. All those lost years.
Jessie sensed a presence seconds before she heard the scuffing on the rocks. She lifted her head from her knees only slightly, surprised to find someone standing there, watching her.
"You're kinda close to the edge there, ma'am,' Chris said, wondering who in their right mind would sit on the ledge like that, only a foot from tumbling into the canyon. There had been no sign-ins at the trailhead but that didn't mean anything. Not everyone followed the rules.
Jessie had half a mind to ignore the woman, thinking it wasn't any of her damn business how close to the edge she sat. But she was getting tired, so she stood up and stretched her back, realizing just how long she had been sitting there.
"I was a little close, I guess," she said to the stranger, looking over the edge and into the canyon one more time. Then she turned and easily hopped over the foot-wide gap in the rock and stopped in front of the woman. For the first time, Jessie noticed the Forest Service patch on the stranger's T-shirt and the radio strapped to the woman's hip. With an arch of one eyebrow, she allowed her eyes to travel over the woman, up past scuffed hiking boots, tanned, well-muscled legs, hiking shorts and the white T-shirt tucked neatly inside. Her light brown hair was layered and wind blown, strands hanging over the blue eyes that looked back at her. Sexy. Jessie gave one of her most seductive looks and smiled.
"Who are you?"
"Search and Rescue."
Jessie grinned. It was just too easy. "And . . . who are you searching for?" Jessie asked quietly, stepping closer.
Chris was amazed at how well she hid her surprise, for there was no mistaking those nearly black eyes looking at her so intently. How many nights had she held the book and looked at them herself? The only thing different was the hair, now much shorter than in the picture.
"I'm looking for hikers that don't sign in at trailheads. It's a huge offense, you know."
Jessie teasingly raised both arms over her head. "Guilty. I guess you caught me then." Jessie met the woman's steady gaze, thinking how beautiful her eyes were. Blue. Blue as a mountain sky. She wondered how long it would take for this conquest. A little diversion from the unwanted task of seeing Annie; this woman would do nicely.
Chris was not immune to the flirtatious looks and gestures of J. T. Stone, but she sensed a complete lack of sincerity and she was much too wise to fall victim to that sort of seduction. And despite her fantasies every night, she never really believed she would meet J. T. Stone. But here she was, unabashedly flirting with her. Well, two could play this old game.
"Now that I've caught you, what in the world should I do with you?"
"House arrest?" Jessie suggested, her lips forming into a seductive smile. "Overnight stay?"
Chris crossed her arms and watched Jessie Stone for a moment, letting her eyes travel the length of her, much like Jessie had done earlier. Then she shook her head. "No. I think I'll let you off the hook this time. First offense and all."
Jessie was a bit disappointed. She'd been so close, she was sure. But the game wasn't over. She would be here at least a week.
"Thank you. I guess I should head down then. Want to escort me?"
"Can't. I'm heading up. Sorry."
Jessie shrugged. This woman clearly wasn't interested. And Jessie wasn't about to beg. The women in New York were so much easier. "Have a nice walk then." She gave one more lingering look, then told herself that the woman must be straight not to have taken the bait. Oh well, her loss.
Chris walked on up the trail, purposely keeping her back to Jessie Stone, refusing to turn around to watch. Only when she topped the next ridge did she stop and lean against a tree. She took a drink from her water bottle, wondering what in the world J. T. Stone was doing up here. Chris was almost certain that Jessie had been at the exact spot where Jack had jumped. The ledge with the split in it, Annie had said. What's she doing here? Maybe to finally see Annie. Maybe to do research for a new book. Then her eyes widened. Maybe to do both.
***********
Jessie passed the trailhead, her mind still on the woman she'd met on the trail. She picked up the pencil, thinking she would have just a little more fun. 'Jennifer Parker. Out safely. It was gorgeous at the top . . . view included.'
She smiled as she closed the lid on the box. She didn't doubt the woman would look on her way back down. She passed the dusty Jeep on her way to her rental car, assuming it belonged to the S.A.R. woman. She paused, looking at the neat interior. It suited her, the woman with the wind-blown hair.
Jessie opened the window on her own car as she drove, letting the cool breeze hit her face, drying the sweat from her hike. It had felt good to use muscles that were too long dormant. And it had felt good to cry, she admitted. The hardest part would be facing Annie. If she could even manage it. She wondered what Annie would be like after sixteen years. She wondered if she had gone and married that man in San Francisco. Probably. Annie may not even be in Sierra City anymore. Wouldn't that be ironic? She finally got up enough nerve to come back and Annie wouldn't even be here. On impulse, she pulled into the gas station and walked up to the phone booth, flipping thought the directory. Her fingers found the S's and she held her breath, pausing at Stone, Annie. So, she was still here after all. Jessie closed the book and walked away, her heart hammering in her chest.
She made a sandwich for lunch and chased it down with a glass of wine, then laid on the sofa, letting sleep take her. She had not slept well the night before and she was a little tired after her hike. She would have plenty of time to decide about Annie, she thought as she drifted away.
***************
Chris followed the Ridge Trail loop, enjoying the quiet of the weekday. She had met no one since encountering Jessie Stone that morning and figured she would not. Friday, the tourists would begin showing up and by Saturday, there would again be people on the trails, trying to leave the city behind for at least the weekend. She passed the cutoff to Lake Trail and continued down the hill to her Jeep. She was tired and wanted a shower, glad she had worn shorts that morning instead of jeans. But they still clung to her now and she pulled her shirt out, letting the cool air hit her bare waist.
On her way past the trailhead marker, out of habit she lifted the sign-in box and glanced at it, wondering if anyone had gone up after her. Jennifer Parker? Chris smiled. Who was she kidding? Then she laughed. The woman was still flirting, even on the sign-in sheet.
Chris passed her road and went on to the office where Ruth Henninger would be. Maybe Jessie Stone was staying at the cabins. It would be much more private than the lodge and she apparently was looking for seclusion, judging by the alias she used.
Ruth came out to meet her, as Chris assumed she did everyone. She slammed the Jeep door and walked up.
"Good afternoon, Miss Henninger," Chris greeted.
"Oh, please, I've told you, it's just plain Ruth." She turned and beckoned Chris to follow. "Come inside. I have fresh baked cookies, Chris."
At least once a week, Chris stopped by, just to chat. She suspected that Ruth looked forward to her visits now.
"You look hot. Want some iced tea?"
"That sounds great, thanks." Chris sat at the table and took a cookie, still hot from the oven.
"How are all the rangers doing, dear?" Ruth asked, as she always did.
"They're fine," Chris answered, as she usually did.
"How do you like that Robert?"
Robert Hatcher. Chris had to force a smile onto her face. He was probably one of the most handsome men Chris had ever seen. He had been with Roger a little over a year but few liked him. He rarely worked the trails, usually making some excuse or other about staying inside or having urgent paperwork to finish. He was nice enough to her, but still, Chris had little use for him. She detested laziness.
"I don't get to see him much," Chris said. "He doesn't get out on the trails a lot."
"Now he's a handsome one, with that moustache of his. I saw him at the grocery store. What about Matt?"
"I like him fine," Chris said. "What's with the questions?"
"Well, a woman your age, you need to be dating. I would hate to see you end up like me, an old maid."
Chris laughed, drawing a smile from Ruth. "I'm serious. And don't tell me they haven't asked you. As pretty as you are, they're probably banging your door down." Then she leaned closer to Chris. "A little too skinny, though, Chris. Men like to have a little to hold on to."
Chris laughed again. "Thanks, but I'm not looking for a man, Ruth. Especially one that I work with."
"Women nowadays, think they have to be so independent. I declare, in my day, we wanted a man to take care of us."
"What happened to you, then?"
"I guess I scared them off, what with having a business to run and all," she said wistfully, staring out the back door.
"And how is business, Ruth?"
"Oh, the cabins are full on the weekends, that's all. Now that school has started up again, the families have all gone home. Had a new one come in yesterday, though."
"Really?" Chris asked.
"Pretty girl. Alone, too. I put her up at number seven. She was looking for a secluded place, just like you. Why you young women want to be by yourselves so far back in the woods, I'll never know."
"Number seven? That's across the stream from me, isn't it?" Chris asked innocently.
"Yes, through the woods. Her name is Jennifer Parker. She looked so familiar to me, but she said she'd not been here before."
Yes, Ruth would have known Jessie as a young girl, Chris supposed. No wonder she didn't use her real name.