The Way of Women (35 page)

After receiving final clearance, he positioned them on the runway, shoved the throttle all the way forward, and lifted into the sky. Cloud cover hovered at about five thousand feet, as they flew through wisps of fog, still seeing the terrain below, though spotty.

“I’m going around on the east side,” he shouted now that the engine roar was more subdued.

“Good. How high?”

“Going up to fifteen thousand. Ash and steam are minimal right now, according to flight service.”

“How close?”

“Three, four miles. Depends on the clouds.”

Jenn nodded, all the time wishing she’d been able to ride in a chopper. That was the only way to get really close.

How close is close enough?
This time her voice wore a teasing tone.
To be honest, close enough to see the whole picture, then …

“Will you look at that.” Mitch dipped the left wing to give them a better view.

Jenn couldn’t answer. Awe took over her throat and heart and soul. The horseshoe-shaped crater yawned below them, so deep it seemed she could see clear to the base of the mountain. “Can we come around again from the west?”

“I’ll try. If our weather window stays open long enough.” He called in to the tower requesting permission to alter his flight plan. After some back and forth from the ground, he set the plane into a steep bank to the left and came back over it.

Jenn kept snapping as they passed. Mitch sang at what might be the top of his lung power, “Oh, the things we do for love.”

Jenn ignored him, all her attention focused on the hole in her friend, her fingers clicking the shutter, adjusting apertures and swapping lenses without conscious effort on her part. As they banked again, the mist crept back over, as if the crater really did not exist but was a figment of her imagination.

“What did you say?”

“Just chatting with the Forest Service. They’re as excited at the viewing as you are.”

Thank you, God. I asked for this and you gave me the gift. Why? Only you have control over the clouds. But you made it happen
. This was indeed something she would have to think about.

“Thanks. More than I can say.”

“I’d like prints of those.”

“Of course.” She leaned back and closed her eyes, the better to see the crater.
Awesome
was the only word she could come up with.

“Some of those should be easy to sell. Newspapers, magazines, get your name out there.”

“I don’t need my name out there.”

Yes, you do. Big difference between shooting fashion layouts and shooting a mountain crater
. How quickly could she get them processed?

“You have any contacts at the
Oregonian?
”

“No, but I do at the Vancouver paper, the
Columbian
. Why?”

“Perhaps they would develop the black-and-whites.”

“I’ll take you down there when we get back on the ground.”

Another favor. How would she repay them all?

Fog was teasing the perimeters of the airport when they landed.

“Just in time.” Mitch rolled to a stop. “You chock the wheels while I shut this baby down.”

“Yes sir!” She put plenty of emphasis on the “sir,” even so far as touching two fingers to her forehead. Pushing open the door, she scrambled out, then reached back in for her backpack. If those frames were anywhere near what she thought them to be … She set the chocks and kicked each one to make sure they were secure. Capricious winds could create havoc at a small airport like this one. They would pick up plenty of turbulence roaring through the Columbia Gorge.

She didn’t need to check the windsock to know that right now the winds were blowing from the west, and moisture-laden from the ocean.

After chaining the wings of the plane to the earth, Mitch ushered her ahead of him into the office. He hung the plane keys on a board of hooks, slapped his logbook on the counter, and held up a hand.

“Give me a minute and I’ll be right there.” He headed down the hall.

“Where’s the rest room?” she asked the man behind the counter.

“Follow that man. That’s where he’s headed.”

Jenn waited outside the one bathroom door, restless, pacing. She might indeed have a scoop here, not that there hadn’t been other crater photos,
but none for three days. The mountain had been noticeably reticent about viewing.

“Couldn’t stay away, eh?” Mitch touched the bill of his baseball hat.

Jenn rolled her eyes.

Back outside, she met him again at the pickup. “You want to ride, or follow?”

“Follow. Then I don’t have to come back out here.”

“Suit yourself.” He waited for her to get her truck started, then turned right onto Mill Plain Boulevard, back to the declining downtown district of Vancouver. They parked in the parking lot and approached the building.

“You think anyone will be here?”

“Oh, my friend Jerry will. They’ve been working round the clock since the mountain started.”

“Even if they don’t put out a Saturday paper?”

“Got to get the Sunday edition ready.”

“True.”

He held the door for her, then motioned her toward the reception desk.

Within minutes they were back in the darkroom with Mitch’s friend, Jerry.

“Will you look at that?” The photo showed the crater in all its glory, a small puff of ash rising in the center of the floor and a bit of cloud fuzzying the west rim.

“I’ll buy it.”

Jenn eased a couple more prints out of the tray and clipped them on the drying rack. As they’d thought from the negatives, the first one was the best.

“I’ll develop some more of these when I get home and send you one.”

“Home, as in …?”

“I have a darkroom at Mom and Dad’s.”

“You want to stop for a cup of coffee?”

There, it was back. That suggestive tone again. She’d almost begun to like him, and then this.

“You know, Mitch, you and I could be good friends if you’d leave off the leering.”

“I didn’t leer. I just asked if you wanted a cup of coffee. I have to get back to the office.”

“It’s your tone, your stance, you don’t even know you do it.” Jenn wanted to throw her hands in the air, but she had too much in them.
Why doesn’t he get it?

“A cup of coffee, that’s all I’m asking.”

Jenn sighed. “All right.” But don’t make me regret this. “Burgerville?”

“No, Denny’s.”

All the way to the restaurant, she argued back and forth.
Go, stay
. She needed to say thank you.
Call him; it’s safer
. She wanted to … to what? Send him home to his wife, that’s what. With that in mind, she followed him into the restaurant.

Once seated at a booth in the back, and full cups in front of them, she struggled to find the words. Words that he couldn’t twist.

“How do I thank you?” She knew that was stupid when the words left her mouth.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

“There, you did it again.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“What did you mean then? ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way.’ ”

“Ah, Jenn, you’re just too sensitive. Can’t a guy even tease you?”

Follow through—back off. He’s right. I am sensitive. I’m sick and tired of that life
.

“Mitch, I’m telling you this as a friend. Teasing is one thing. Affairs are another. Mitchell Ross, go home to your wife before you lose her. And your kids.” She kept her voice soft, but she enunciated each word, clearly, carefully. She leaned slightly forward. “Before it’s too late.”

She tossed two dollars on the table and left without a backward glance.

Now, if only she could have a chance to talk with Frank.

T
he Lady languished like a patient regaining consciousness, slow to wake, dazed, but coming to her senses. Again, again. But all around her, only ash and steam and stink. The new ash veil, ripped from her heart, blew toward the sea and the Sound.
Oh, foolish friends, why are you so hurried? Can you not see that there is more?

T
he phone ringing on a Sunday morning would make anyone swear, and Frank did. His eyes hurt, his head had become a thudding drum, his throat felt raw as though he’d swallowed glass.

“Not another hangover.” Disappointment traveled well over the phone wires, and Maybelle’s sigh made her message even clearer. “I thought you’d turned over a new leaf.”

“If you want to preach, go get a pulpit.”

“Are you getting ash there?”

“How in the …?” Frank heaved a heavy breath, cleaned up his vocabulary, and mumbled something into the phone while he fumbled the shade aside. “Some.”

“Some is nothing like what’s hitting I-5. Traffic’s in a snarl like you won’t believe. Give me the word and I’ll call in support.”

“State Patrol asked for assistance?” He sat on the edge of the bed and
rubbed his eyes. No way could he take a chance on a drink now. No matter how bad he needed it. “I thought I told you not to call me.”

“Now, Frank, you know and I know that if I hadn’t, you’d have had my head.”

“You’ve already called Tanner?”

“He’s on days today.”

“We talking feet or inches here?”

“Who knows? It’s still coming down.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thought you’d see things my way.” Her chuckle irritated him into another snarl.

As soon as he got in his truck, he turned up his police-band radio and listened to the chatter. No one was counting the accidents caused by low visibility and drivers who saw no need to slow down. Twenty-five miles an hour was the speed limit in an area usually traveled at sixty-five, seventy if no one was watching. He heard of three pileups in the stretch from Longview to Tacoma going on right then.

So far, it had been mostly fender benders, but a massive pileup could bring fatalities instantly.

“Stupid, idiotic people don’t have the sense of a peahen.”

Sig whined and glanced toward his master.

“Not your fault, fella. You’d have more sense.”

By evening every tow truck, emergency vehicle, squad car, and maintenance crew was answering aid calls and patrolling the freeway and other major roads. Ash clouds billowed up, erasing the line between gray clouds overhead and earth itself.

In spite of the raining mud caused by rain and falling ash, Jenn, knowing she was leaving on Tuesday, decided to drive to Tacoma on Sunday to see Mellie and Lissa.

“This is absolute craziness,” her mother confirmed, her father just shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“She don’t listen to you, Mother, so give it up.”

Was it Jenn’s imagination or had her father been talking more than he used to? Whatever, it was good. “I do listen, but time is so short before I leave, and the way things are going, it could get worse by tomorrow. Those two need every bit of encouragement anyone can give them.”

“If your car starts to cough and act sluggish, get out and blow out the air filter. You do remember what one of them looks like?”

Jenn nodded. Her father had made sure his daughter could change oil, tires, air filter, and batteries. She didn’t bother to tell him she’d not seen the innards of an automobile since she’d left for New York. Her closest contact was the backseat of a taxi.