THE SPOT
By
John Bird
"I love the trees this time of year," Frank said as he
stared through the French doors. Outside in the yard the plum and the apple
were vibrant with the first blossoms of the season. Spring had arrived with all
it's magic. And Frank was hoping to work a little
magic of his own, which had nothing to do with trees. The trees were just a
selling point, a bright bow on a pretty package. The sale was the magic; not
that it would take any magic to get an offer.
It was 1998 and the
Frank knew he would get an offer, and that as soon as he did
there would be a counter offer, which would trigger a sequence of bidding and
bargaining which could prove exasperating for both the client and the agent.
That's when the real work started. That's when the magic would have to hold.
Frank glanced toward the clients, Mark and Gwen, to gauge their
reaction. Mark's gaze roamed across the lawn in the manner of someone whose
mind was elsewhere, while Gwen stared intently at the vaulted ceiling.
"What are those bolts?" Gwen was pointing at the end
of one of the beams that supported the ceiling.
"That's a seismic retrofit. Actually, a
pretty important feature in this area." Frank responded.
"Can we cover them up?"
"I'll get my contractor out here. Bill Jensen, good
man." Frank's stomach tightened. Frank and Bill had a serious run-in that
morning. There had been a problem between Bill's lead carpenter, Bob, and Paul
Savage, the architect on a project Frank was managing. Paul was clearly in the
wrong, but Frank had sided with him. Bill had to let Bob go. A nasty bit of
business, but it was business, and carpenters were cheaper to replace than
architects.
Suddenly, a cell phone rang. The trio in the room reached in
unison for their phones.
"It's mine, excuse me" Frank said, flipping open his
phone and walking away from the couple. "Hello, Frank here."
"Frank, it's Aunt Ruth."
"Ruth…Is everything o.k.?" Frank wondered how his aunt
had gotten his cell phone number.
"The people at your office gave me your number. Frank…your
dad is in the hospital. It's his heart. It's pretty bad."
Frank felt his own heart give a twinge. "When did this
happen?"
"This morning. Can you
come up?"
"Of course. I just
need to tie up some loose ends and I'll be right up."
"He's in the ICU ward at
"I'll see you soon. Bye." Frank turned and walked back
toward the couple. "I apologize, but something urgent has come up and I'm
going to have to cut this short. I'll have Sandra, my office manager,
reschedule you at your convenience."
"We've come all the way out here...can we finish the walk
through?" Gwen's voice hinted at insistence.
"I'm terribly sorry. Tell you what, I have to call the
office...perhaps you two might want to look around on your own while I do. I'm
really very sorry."
Gwen shot Frank an icy glare as the couple wandered into the
other room. Frank hit the speed dial on his cell phone as he stepped out onto
the deck.
"Thomas Realty, this is
Sandra."
"Sandra, this is Frank. Listen,
my dad's in the hospital...it's his heart...sounds pretty bad. I need you to
reschedule the Davidsons, and you better clear my
calendar for tomorrow...at least the morning, and book me on the next flight to
*****
It was about twenty minutes to the
airport as the crow flew. For crows stuck in rush traffic you could triple
that. Rush hour started before five in the morning and ended after eight at
night. Of all the systems stretched beyond the limits traffic was the worst.
Every day a sea of cars washed into the valley, then
ebbed back out at night. Gridlock had become a way of life. People commuted
hundreds of miles every day from houses in the
By the time Frank reached the airport he had missed his flight.
The next flight was in an hour. Frank called Aunt Ruth to tell her he would be
late, then settled in at the bar with a martini and
his cell phone. Time to check his messages. There was
a message from Sandra, the office manager. Someone had topped the offer on the
Lee house and they had twenty-four hours to submit a counter offer. There was a
message form Sarah Henderson, wanting to know how close they were to closing,
the tone in her voice clearly impatient. There was a message from Bill, his
contractor; the termite report on the Garcia house had come back, and the news
wasn't good. Frank hit the speed dialer.
"Hello?"
"Sandra, look sorry to bother you at home, but I need you
to call Sue Lee. Offer her ten thousand over the other offer. Tell her that's the
best we can do. I'm going to call Sarah Henderson and Bill Jensen. If anything
else comes up try to handle it. I should be back in a day or two at the
most."
"I hope everything's all right with your dad."
"Thanks, me too. Bye"
Sipping his martini Frank hit the speed dial again.
"Hello, you've reached Bill Jensen, General Contractor. I'm
not in the office right now, but if you leave your name and number I'll get
back to you."
"Bill, this is Frank Thomas. Got you message regarding the
Garcia job. Need to get this cleared up ASAP. I'm going out of town for a day
or two, but you can reach me on my cell. Hope you understand about this
morning...I did what I had to do. Sometimes this business can get a little
vicious. Anyway, give me a call. Bye."
Frank downed his martini and signaled for another. He was going
to need it by the time he was through with Sarah Henderson...or more precisely
when she got through with him. Frank wet his throat and hit the speed dial.
"Hello."
"Hello, Sarah, it's Frank Thomas."
"Frank, yes, I've been wanting to
talk to you. Listen, I'm starting to be concerned that we still haven't closed
yet. I don't understand what the delay is. I'm wondering if we can't speed
things up a bit."
"Sarah, all the paperwork has been filed, the wheels are in
motion, but the process takes time."
"There must be some way of expediting the process."
"I assure you, we're doing everything we can. Now...I'm
going to be out of town a couple of days on personal business. When I get back
we should have some answers."
"Another delay? I don't
think this is a good time to be going off on holiday."
"This isn't a vacation...some urgent business has come up
that requires my attention."
"I'm just concerned that my business isn't receiving the
attention it deserves."
Just then Frank heard the boarding call for his flight.
"That's my flight. Listen, Sarah, everything will be fine.
I'll talk to you in a day or two. If you have any questions before then call
Sandra at the office and she will take care of it. Good night, Sarah."
"Hope to be hear some better news soon then. Good
night."
As Frank hung up he closed his eyes and finished his drink in
one swallow. Then, signing the check, Frank made his way to the gate. On board
the flight attendant announced that airline regulations required cell phones to
be turned off, although Frank argued that this was an emergency, so Frank spent
the next of hour alone with his thoughts; thoughts of his father and how their
relationship had changed through the years. Frank's mom had died when he was
young, so growing up a strong bond developed between father and son. But as
Frank grew older the more his interests changed and the less he felt any common
bond with "the old man". The more his dad clung to the bond the more
Frank fought to free himself of it. New friends, girls, parties, college,
marriage, his career, the move, the divorce (Frank made a mental note to call
Leslie when he hit the ground) all had widened the rift between the two. Lately
their had been a growing desire to renew their relationship,
but Frank's business had occupied most of his time. And now Frank wondered
whether time would grant him mercy just this once.
*****
As Frank pulled out of the rental yard he turned his phone on to
find two messages: one from Sandra and one from Bill. Frank hit speed dial.
"Bill Jensen."
"Bill, it's Frank. Look, about the Garcia house. That place
is primed for a quick turnaround. To throw a red flag now could screw the whole
deal."
"Frank, you asked me to look at it. I'm telling you what I
found. I can't pretend I didn't see what I saw. That's just asking for
trouble."
"Look, Bill, I'm not asking you to cover anything up...but
you know as well as I do that if we start tearing into that place we're opening
up a can of worms. Look, check it out. Let's see if we can limit the damage.
Oh, by the way, I might have another job for you. A small
job, covering some bolts in a ceiling. I'll be back in town in a day or
two and we can go over it then. Got another call, talk to you soon...bye."
Frank took the new call as he pulled into the hospital parking
lot.
"Hello."
"Frank, this is Sandra."
"Hi, I was just going to call you. How did it go with the Lee's"
"I just got off the phone with Sue. She told me that the other
guy has already topped our offer and told her he will top any offer we
make."
"That's insane. The place is already way
over valued. The guy may be bluffing. I'll talk to the client and get back to
you. Got to go."
Frank hung up as he entered the hospital lobby and approached
the front desk where the receptionist was seated.
"Excuse me, I'm here to see a
patient in ICU."
"Down the hall to the
elevators...third floor...to your right."
"Thanks."
Frank walked down the hall. Stopping in front of the elevators
Frank pushed the "up" button. After a few seconds the elevator doors
opened and Frank entered. Frank pushed the button for the third floor and the
doors closed. Frank felt a surreal sensation, as if life itself had slowed to
the pace of an elevator. The elevator doors opened and Frank walked out into
the corridor. Aunt Ruth was sitting near the nurses' station. As she rose and
walked toward him, Frank could see that she was shaking.
"I got here as quick as I could," Frank whispered,
hugging Ruth.
"I'm afraid he's gone."
Frank had considered the possibility several times in the last
three hours, yet finality of the words staggered him, causing him to back away
from Ruth, "What happened?"
"It was his heart. He had been ill for a while."
"I don't understand. I talked to him last month and he
didn't say anything."
"You know how he was. He would never admit to anyone how
sick he was. I only knew because I saw him all the time."
Frank felt his emotions all rushing together and churning inside
him. "Well, why didn't you say something to me?"
"He asked me not to. He didn't want to bother you with it.
He knew how busy you are."
"Too busy to see my father before he
died?" his voice rising in anger.
"That's why I called you. I should have called you
sooner…" Frank could see the tears welling up in Ruth's eyes.
Instinctively he reached for her.
"I'm sorry…It's not your fault. Where is he."
"They have him in a room down the hall. They're getting
ready to move him downstairs. Fourth door on the left."
As Frank walked down the corridor he felt like the outside world
had melted away and a strange new presence was closing in around him. The
fourth door on the left was open and Frank could see a nurse and two orderlies
unhooking equipment and preparing to move the body onto a gurney. The nurse
moved to block his entrance.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Frank Thomas. I'm his son."
"I'm so sorry, please come in. Would you like some time
alone."
"If I could have a couple of minutes,
please."
"Take as long as you want. We'll be outside if you need
us." The nurse turned in the doorway, "He asked for you at the
end," then closed the door as she left.
Frank stood staring at his father, lying still upon the bed. He looked
old and frail; a bare resemblance of the vigorous, robust man Frank had grown
up with. Frank's dad was a carpenter and his natural rugged strength was suited
for the hard physical work of construction. Dad loved the outdoors and spent
most of his free time hiking camping and fishing, usually dragging Frank along
until Frank was old enough to say no. The last few years Frank noticed how the
erosion of time took its toll on the old man, but even into his seventies, Dad
had never lost his love of the rustic life. Now seeing his
dad lay pale and lifeless sent chills through Frank's body.
"Well, Dad, sorry I wasn't here. Guess I let you down
again. If I'd known you were sick, I'd have made more time to be here. I wish
you had let me know. I wish I had known." Frank could feel the tears
welling up. Time to get a grip. Time
to be strong. Frank opened the door and stepped into the corridor. As
the orderlies entered the room Frank turned to the nurse.
"Is there any paperwork to do?"
"Nothing that can't wait 'til
tomorrow. You should get some rest."
"Yeah, I've had a really bad day." Frank walked toward
Aunt Ruth, who was waiting by the nurses' station. "I'm going to head over
to the house. Would you like to come over? I could use some company right
now."
"Me, too," Ruth nodded as she took his arm and headed
toward the elevator.
*****
The house was in an older tract located near what used to be the
edge of town. Now the city stretched several miles east to the foothills. As he
drove down the quiet neighborhood streets Frank pulled out his phone and hit
speed dial.
"Hello?"
"Sandra, it's Frank. Sorry to bother you at home this late.
Listen, my dad died."
"Frank, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, thanks. Look, I'm going to be another couple of
days. See if Jim Riley will cover for me with the Davidsons.
He owes me one. Call Bill Jensen and have him work up an estimate on the Garcia
place. Oh yeah...and try to keep Sarah Henderson off my back."
"What about the Lee's?"
"Let's sleep on that one. I'll get back to you in the
morning."
"Don't worry about things here...we'll manage. Are you
going to be all right."
"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just got some loose
ends to tie up. If anything comes up you know where to reach me. I'll
call you tomorrow."
"You take care of yourself. Good night."
Frank hung up as he pulled into the driveway. The site of the
old house sent another wave of chills through Frank. He glanced at Aunt Ruth to
see if his emotions were betrayed, but Ruth seemed lost in her own thoughts.
Frank studied her face, noting the family similarity. Aunt Ruth had become sort
of surrogate mother after his mom had died. Mostly though it
had been just Dad and him. Then it was just him. Now they were both
alone.
As Frank opened the front door he reached for the light switch.
"I left in such a hurry I didn't pack a change of
clothes," Frank said as he stepped into the entry.
"There's probably some clothes
here," replied Ruth as she followed him in.
A gentle smile crossed Frank's face. "Nothing
that would fit me. That okay, I'll pick something up tomorrow. I assume
they still take Visa out here."
"I'll make us some coffee," said Ruth as she headed
toward the kitchen. Frank wandered down the hall until he came to a bedroom
door. Turning the knob, the door swung open and Frank stared into the room.
Frank hesitated a moment before entering, then flipped the light switch and
walked in. The room was furnished in early thrift store, just a bed, a
nightstand and a dresser. Frank walked over to the dresser and ran his finger
across the top, noting a thin film of dust. Above the dresser were several
pictures in frames hung on the wall. One picture is of a woman holding a baby
in front of a 1953 Chevy. Another is a young boy holding a large trout on the
shore of a small lake high in the mountains. Another picture shows Frank as a
young man standing with his bride on their wedding day. Another shows Frank as
a teenager with shoulder length hair standing in front of an old VW bug.
Frank looked at the bed and he saw himself lying there. He was
seventeen. John Lennon's first solo album was blasting from the stereo on the
dresser. A large poster of Jane Fonda as "Barbarella"
hung on the wall above the dresser. A cigarette burned in the ashtray on the
nightstand. Dishes, clothes, and other artifacts were scattered about the room
ankle deep. Suddenly the door opened. It was the old man.
"Can't you turn that down," Dad reached for the volume
knob on the stereo as if to emphasize that this wasn't a request.
"Can't you knock?" Frank shot back.
" I did
knock...you couldn't hear me over that racket.
"Or maybe I didn't want to be bothered."
" Listen, I was
going to go up to the lake this weekend. Do you want to go?"
" Nah…fishing's
boring."
"So you'd rather lay around here, listening to that noise. That's
all you do anymore. Is that what you're going to do with your life?"
" No, I'm
going to be a miserable wage slave like you."
" This wage
slave has put a roof over your head and food in your belly. Not to mention all
the money I've stuck in your college fund all these years in the hope that you
do make a better life for yourself. But you're not going to do it laying on your ass all day."
As the door slammed shut Frank let his finger do the talking.
Frank exhaled a long deep sigh as he stared at the empty bed.
Turning off the light, Frank closed the door and walked down the hall to the
next door. Opening it, Frank switched on the light and entered. The room was
Dad’s office. Frank stared at the old wooden desk, the swivel chair with duct
tape on the arms, and the brown metal file cabinet. Frank opened the top drawer
of the file cabinet. Lying in the drawer on top of a pile of insurance papers
and packets was a large manila envelope with "WILL" handwritten
across it. Removing the whole pile from the drawer, Franks left the room and
headed back toward the kitchen.
In the kitchen Ruth was pulling two cups down from an upper
cabinet as the coffeemaker gurgled in the corner of the counter. Frank set the
pile of papers on the old formica
table by the sliding door. Sitting down, Frank reached for the manila envelope
and opened it as Ruth carried two cups of coffee to the table. In the envelope
was a facsimile of Dad's will.
"The original is probably in the safe deposit box,"
Frank assumed as he scanned the document. It was one of those forms from the
back of a do-it-yourself book with the blanks filled in by hand. At the bottom
was a handwritten notation.
"Are you sure you're up to this?" asked Ruth as she
handed Frank the cup.
"Might as well get it over with. I can't
sit around staring at the walls," Frank replied as lifted the cup toward
his mouth. The first sip burned his lips, as always.
"Pretty cut and dried," Frank said as Ruth sat
stirring creamer into her coffee. "Dad left everything to me."
"That's as it should be," Ruth answered as she added
sweetener.
"Down at the bottom he stipulates disposition of his
remains. He wants his body cremated and for me to scatter his ashes at the
spot."
"The spot?" Ruth's
face tightened around the question.
"It's a place in the mountains where we used to go fishing.
Haven't been up there for years. Pretty
remote. It's a full day hike in. Guess he figured he'd drag me up there
one more time."
"Where in the mountains?"
"Dad made me promise never to tell anyone. He claimed it
was the fisherman's code of secrecy."
*****
There was a memorial service at a
chapel downtown. Dad was never much on churches. He used to point toward the
mountains and say, "That's my church." Afterward there was a
gathering at the house for the neighbors and Dad's old union pals. Frank was
standing in the living room talking to Bob's wife Ellen. Bob was Dad's best
friend and fishing buddy.
"He seemed so peaceful,"
Ellen remarked, "like he was just asleep."
Frank chuckled, "Dad wasn't
peaceful when he slept. Snored like a
"Glad you could make it," Frank said as they hugged
briefly. Frank then extended his hand toward Bill. "Good to see you,
Bill."
"Sorry to hear about your dad," Bill replied as they
shook hands. "Leslie's told me a lot about him. I wish I could have met
him..." Bill had the look of a man who'd rather be in traffic court.
"Well, I'll give you two some time alone."
"Make yourself at home," Frank tried to sound
gracious, "There's food in the kitchen." This sent Bill off in a slow
trot in the direction Frank had motioned. Frank turned and looked at Leslie,
trying to pick his first words carefully. Finally Leslie broke the silence.
"I'm really sorry. This must be hard for you."
"No, not at all," Frank lied. "It is good to see
you. And Dad would've wanted you to be here. He was always very fond of you."
"I really liked him a lot. I know the divorce hit him
pretty hard."
"Yeah, it hit us all pretty hard."
This was possibly the worst time for
Frank's cell phone to ring. Frank stood wishing he had turned the damn thing off.
He considered ignoring it but on the second ring pulled from his coat pocket
and glanced at the number. It was Sarah Henderson. Perfect. The last person in
the world he wanted to talk to right now, but there would be hell to pay if he
didn't.
"Excuse me," Frank muttered, "I have to take
this."
"No, by all means," Leslie
glared as she turned and headed toward the kitchen.
"Hello, this is Frank.
"Frank, this is Sarah Henderson. Why haven't I heard
anything? I've been leaving messages at the office, but I haven't heard from
you."
"Sarah, can you hold on while I go someplace we can
talk?" Frank bolted through the door that led to the garage.
"Ok, Sarah, what's the problem?"
"The problem is nothing's happening. Everyone's sitting
around waiting instead of doing something to speed this up."
"Sarah, I already explained this to you. The process takes
time."
"I spoke to a friend of mine and she said there's a form
you can file to expedite the closing. I told Sandra to file but she won't do
what I tell her to do."
"That's because I told her not to. This is way too far into
the process to file an expediter."
"Then why didn't you file for it in the beginning?"
"Because it's a very risky procedure. It
exposes all sorts of liability and I strongly recommend against it. Look when I
get back to town we can talk about our options."
"Another delay?"
"Sarah, I can't talk right now. Let me get back to you,
okay? Goodbye."
As he hung up the phone, Frank could feel his emotions begin to
overwhelm him. Suddenly he felt helpless and alone. He leaned back against the
washing machine as the tears welled up and rolled down his face. As he
struggled to contain his emotions, Frank surveyed the reminders of his father's
life. The garage is packed with carpentry tools and hunting and fishing gear. A
kid's bicycle hangs from the rafters. Suddenly Frank heard the doorknob turn.
Summoning all his strength, Frank regained his compose. The door opened and Bob
wanders in.
"Sorry, I didn't know anyone was out here. I was just
stepping out for a smoke."
"It's ok; I'm ok, Bob. I was just trying to figure out what
to do with all this stuff. I swear Dad was king of the pack rats. Always dragging home some piece of junk that someone else had
thrown away. Always going to fix it or make it into something else, but
he never got around to it."
"Well, he didn't have a lot of spare time when you were
growing up, especially after your mom got sick. Later on I think a lot of it
didn't matter."
"Yet he could never bring himself to throw any of it away.
See that bike up there. That's the first bike I ever had. I out grew it in
second grade. "
"I think he was hoping to give it to his grand kid."
"That old clunker? My kid
would have had a new bike."
"Well, it doesn't matter now. What are you going to do with
this stuff?"
"Get rid of it, have it hauled away, then
sell the house. This stuff meant something to Dad, but I've got no use for it.
If you see anything you want you're welcome to it."
"That's some pretty nice fishing gear. Are you sure you
don't want it?"
"I've got no time for fishing."
"How long are you going to be in town?"
"Just long enough to tie up loose ends."
*****
Dawn was just a promise when Frank
pulled into the parking lot at the trailhead. Finishing his coffee, Frank retrieved
his cell phone from the charger and stuck it in his vest pocket. He stepped out
of the car and moved to the trunk, where he pulled out a backpack. After
checking the rear pouch where he had placed the small cedar box containing his
dad's ashes, Frank slung the pack over one shoulder on to his back. Adjusting
the pack, Frank started up the trail in the early morning chill. The trail
started out easy enough, but as the light of morning filled the sky the trail
began a steady climb up the mountain. Frank labored in the thin mountain air
but soon began to pick up a rhythm to his stride, his body leaning slightly
forward to balance the weight off the pack. In the early morning stillness his
new boots crunched noisily up the dirt path. Soon dirt turned to rock beneath
his feet and as the trees began to thin Frank watched the shadows recede across
the hills in retreat from the advance of the sun. As Frank reached the treeline the sun made its entrance, casting shards of light
from the mountains to the east. Frank stopped briefly to bask in the new
warmth, then continued on with the business of the
day.
As his watched beeped 9 o'clock Frank
spied a large rock that looked like a good place to sit for a minute or two.
The trail climbed steadily up into the face of the sun. As he sat Frank pulled
the cell phone from his pocket and noted that there still was a signal, albeit
a weak one. Frank hit the speed dial.
"Thomas Realty, this is
Sandra."
"Sandra, this is Frank, any
news?"
"Not any of it good. Talked to Sue Lee, sounds like they are going to accept the other
offer. Bill Jensen called and said that he thought there was about
fifteen grand worth of damage to the Garcia place but it could be more once he
tears into it. Oh, and Sarah Henderson has been her usual charming self."
"Yeah, she called me yesterday in
the middle of the wake.”
“She wants to file an expeditor, has been pretty insistent about
it."
"Yeah, over my
dead body. You are not to file anything until I tell you to, do you
understand?"
"Yes, boss."
"Call Bill and tell him to write
up an estimate so that we can move on it when I get back."
"What about the Lee's?"
"Try to stall them. Tell them
whatever you have to. I should be back day after tomorrow. I'm going to be out
of phone range pretty soon. I'll call you when I get back to
civilization."
"You take care of yourself up
there."
"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Talk
to you soon."
Frank stuck the phone back in his vest
pocket and reached into a side pouch on the backpack, pulling out a water bottle
and a granola bar. Sipping at the water, Frank took a few bites as he stared
out at the rugged mountains. Then restlessness overtook him and he stuffed the
half eaten bar into his vest pocket and continued on up the trail, his feet
chafing slightly against the stiffness of the new boots.
Frank stopped for lunch by a small
lake. It was the same
The trail was steeper now as it wound
up the slope. Here and there patches of late spring snow that would last into
summer dotted the landscape. Frank's focus was on his feet, which were barking
pretty loud by now. Each step more painful than the last. The pain was enhanced
by a general feeling of fatigue. Frank's contemplation of his current misery
was abruptly shattered by the ring of his cell phone. Frank reached into his
pocket and retrieved the phone. It was Sarah Henderson's cell number. Life just
didn't get much better than this.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Frank, it's Sarah.
Listen, I don't know what's wrong with you people. I asked Sandra several times
to file for an expeditor and got no response. I finally had to go down and file
it myself. I don't know why I'm paying you to handle this when I have to do
everything myself."
"Sarah, most people hire me to
manage their transactions because I am a professional in the field and they're
not. Filing an expeditor as this stage in the game could set could set the
process back weeks, maybe months."
"That's completely unacceptable.
You've got to do something. That's what I'm paying you for."
"Sarah..." Frank glimpsed a
movement out the corner of his eye. He turned in time to see a small lizard
scurry beneath the cover of a large rock. Suddenly the phone went dead. Frank
looked at the display on the face of the phone. The message read "lost
signal". Frank started to hit speed dial then, thanking the lizard for it's intervention, shut the phone off and stuffed it back
into his vest.
The sun was in full retreat when Frank reached the Rubicon. The
small river was boiling with the new spring run off. Frank located a somewhat flat spot near the river and hastily
made camp in the rapidly dying daylight. Pitching the small dome tent by himself proved awkward but uneventful, but by the time he
was done the light was gone, taking what heat there was with it. Frank fumbled
by flashlight through the pack to locate the small propane camp stove and mess
kit. It took some time for the icy water from the river to boil in the cold,
thin mountain air. Frank sat shivering and exhausted staring at the pouch of
freeze-dried lasagna bubble listlessly for what seemed an eternity. Finally,
once the pouch had expanded to the point that Frank deemed it edible, he
carefully retrieved it from the boiling pot. As Frank opened the pouch and the
steam escaped, the aroma sparked a raging hunger. Frank grabbed a forkful and
with a cursory blow to cool it, shoved the steaming fork into his mouth. It was
then that he realized that the cursory blow had done little or nothing to
dissipate the heat and instinctively spat the scalding pasta out onto his vest
as he reached for the water bottle. Eventually the meal cooled enough for Frank
to consume, if not taste it. The nourishment provided Frank with the needed
second wind to complete the evening cleanup. The last chore of the evening was
to secure the food supplies. Bears and other wildlife were known to roam the
river and any food left in the open was an invitation to forage at your
expense. Frank found an old snag of a tree uphill a little way from camp. Frank
tied a length of rope to the food bag and after several tries managed to toss
the rope over a higher limb. Hoisting the bag high into the tree, Frank then
tied the rope off to the trunk. As he returned to camp exhaustion began to
press down on him with the weight of the world. Peeling off the lasagna stained
vest Frank crawled into the tent and sat on the sleeping bag. There by lantern
he performed the one remaining chore of the day; removing the boots. He did so
gingerly, so as to prevent any further pain, yet with a great sense of relief.
His feet as he anticipated were both badly blistered behind the heel and on the
outside of the big toe. As he massaged his swollen feet he glared at the
backpack and it's protruding rear pouch.
"We could have had a nice peaceful ceremony and buried you
next to Mom. But you had to drag me up here one more time." With that he
crawled inside the sleeping bag, fully clothed, clicked off the lantern and
fell straight into a dead sleep.
*****
It was still dark when he woke. As he woke he became aware of a
large sound moving outside the tent.
Grabbing
the lantern, Frank quietly opened the zipper on the tent. As he does Frank
picks up a scent unfamiliar and at the same time peculiarly alarming. Frank
shone the lantern around the camp until it landed on the source of the scent; a
large black bear was standing down by the river. As the light hit him the bear
sniffed the air, then gave off a fearsome snarl.
Panicked, Frank shut off the lantern and, eyes glued on the huge beast, fumbled
about the pack for something to defend himself. His hand seized on his fifteen-blade
pocketknife. Deep down Frank knew that if the bear got close enough for Frank
to use the knife that the battle was already lost. The bear started toward the
tent, but stopped abruptly to sniff something on the ground. Frank realized it
was his vest. The bear, after a perfunctory examination tore at the pocket
containing the granola bar, devouring the bar wrapper and all. Then, as Frank
cowered in the tent, clutching the knife with two-way corkscrew, the bear
leisurely picked at the lasagna stain on the front of the vest. Finally the
bear picked the vest up in his massive jaws and carried it off into the woods.
Frank crawled back in his sleeping bag and lay wide-awake, wanting very much to
go outside and relieve himself yet in mortal fear of leaving the tent.
It was still dark when Frank woke again. His shoulder was stiff
and his hip ached. Frank reached for his wristwatch. The lighted dial read
"4:30 AM". After a brief reflection Frank decided that the kid who
had sold him the ultra-deluxe hi-tech sleeping pad was full of crap. Frank also
decided that he'd better get up now if he was ever going to walk again.
Dragging himself out of the sleeping bag Frank reached into the backpack for
the first aid kit. The blisters would have to be bandaged if he was going to do
any walking, and he sure as hell wasn't going to stay here. Frank was way
behind schedule and was eager to make up the lost ground.
"What the hell am I doing up in this god-forsaken rock
pile, " Frank fumed as he furiously stuffed the
backpack. "I ought to just dump you here and be done with it."
Shivering and cursing in the predawn cold Frank hobbled up the trail in
darkness.
It was mid-day when Frank realized that he should have been
where he was going by now. The terrain looked familiar enough but the landmarks
weren't where they were supposed to be; in fact they weren't there at all.
Frank pulled a map from the backpack and tried to get his bearings, but he
wasn't quite sure what it was he was looking at. He'd left the river long before
the sun had risen in it's crimson glory and spent the
morning following the trail. But was this the trail? His mind had been on bears
and blisters and cold and expeditors. True he hadn't been up here in years, but
he should remember something.
"Well, Dad, you know these mountains better than I do. Any
time you want to take the lead is fine by me." Glancing skyward, Frank
noticed ominous clouds gathering on the horizon.
*****
"As you can see, we've got a fast moving system dropping
down from the
Ruth sat in her living room watching TV as Noon News weatherman
stood in front of a satellite picture of Northern California showing a large
cloud formation over the
"The caller you are trying to
reach is unavailable or out of the service area at this time. Please try your
call again later." Ruth dialed
another number.
"Hello."
"Bob, it's Ruth. Have you seen the weather report? There's
a big storm moving into the Sierras. I tried calling Frank, but I haven't got
an answer on his cell phone."
"I wouldn't worry. He should be on his way back by now. But
I'll make some calls, see what I can find out."
"All right. I'm going
to go over to the house. You can reach me there."
*****
As Frank hurried along the slope, he scanned the terrain looking
for shelter from the coming storm. Frank had heard stories about hikers who'd
been caught in freak storms up in these mountains, and it almost always turned
out bad. Dad had said it had happened to him once. Frank had heard the tale a
few times, always fully embellished. Dad used to say that he had been lucky to
survive, but Frank had always figured that was just another one of Dad's
stories.
Frank was picking his way across a rubble field when his right
foot lost traction, sending him tumbling down the slope. On the third roll the
backpack jettisoned itself and went tumbling off to the left, spraying contents
along the slope. The cedar box slammed into a huge boulder at full impact,
shattering the box and surrendering the contents to the coming gale. Frank
stopped rolling a hundred yards down the slope where he lay dazed and bleeding.
The sharp wind on his face brought him around, and looking up the hill he saw
his gear being scattered on the wind. Staggering to his feet, Frank scrambled
up the slope, gathering belongings as he went. He picked up the box, held it
for a moment, then discarded it and continued up the slope. Half way up Frank
spotted a rock ledge off to the right. Gathering as much as he could carry,
Frank sought shelter under the ledge as the storm unleashed it full fury.
*****
When Ruth heard the knock at the door she knew it wasn't Frank.
Frank had a key.
"They found Frank's rental car up by Desolation
Wilderness." Bob said as he headed down the hall.
"Desolation Wilderness?" Ruth did
not seem reassured. "That's a huge area…he could be anywhere."
"I know exactly where he's headed." Bob opened the
door to Frank's room and walked to the dresser. Bob pointed to the picture of
the boy holding the fish. "That's "the spot"."
*****
Frank sat quietly on the shore. His dad sat just as quietly on a
rock thirty feet away. Suddenly Frank's rod jerked like with a force he'd never
felt. A hundred feet off shore the biggest trout Frank had ever seen cleared
the water in a writhing dance of defiance. Frank's hands tightened around the
rod with all the strength the young boy can muster.
"Dad! I've got
one!" Frank called out as if to keep his chest from bursting. Dad had seen
the fish jump and was reeling in his line as he worked his way toward the boy.
"Boy, that's a big one! Set the hook, and then give him a
bit more drag…easy now! You got him!"
Frank woke shivering. For a moment the dream clouded his
thoughts, but the icy wind brought him back to the current predicament. As he
huddled cold, Frank took an inventory of his supplies: the camp stove, sleeping
bag, the pocket knife with the two-way corkscrew, and about three days worth of
food...might be able to stretch it to a week, max. But if it didn't stop
snowing soon it wouldn't matter, Frank mused as he pulled the sleeping bag
around him.
*****
"As soon as the storm breaks we'll send a chopper up
there," the deputy tried to sound reassuring.
"I got here as soon as I could," Leslie said as
another deputy escorted her into the office. Ruth greeted her with a hug.
"There's been no word so far," said Ruth.
"He's a damn fool to go up there by himself."
"He'll be ok," Bob seemed pretty confident, "Frank
spent a lot of time in those mountains as a kid."
"Yeah, well he's not a kid anymore, Leslie replied,
"and he doesn't have his dad to look after him. Damn fool!"
*****
"Here we go, again," muttered Frank as he sipped his
martini.
"Sometimes I don't know why we ever moved here,"
Leslie declared from the kitchen.
"This is the hottest market in the country right now,"
Frank explained from his seat on the sofa, "that's why. This is the
"Money Belt". There are agents who would kill to have a piece of this
market."
"Yeah, well, I don't care about the money," Leslie
countered. "I miss my family and my friends and I hate being so far away
from them. Don't you miss your Dad? It's not like they don't sell houses back
home."
"This is my home. I've got a damn good career going here and I'm
not about to throw it away and move back to the sticks."
"So your career means more to you than I do."
Frank had heard enough. He stood and walked his empty over to
the wetbar.
"My career puts a roof over our heads and food on the
table. You might try being a little more supportive." With that Frank was
out the door, slamming it for emphasis. But not before noticing Leslie, her
back to him, reply with the single digit salute.
Frank woke to the sound of the helicopter in the distance. The storm
had passed and the sun glistened off the fresh powder that covered the ground.
Then he saw it, hovering on the horizon. Instantly Frank leapt from beneath the
rock ledge and ran through the snow, waving his arms.
"Hey! Over here! Hey!" he
shouted, his echo mingling with the noise of the whirlybird. Frank ran toward
the helicopter yelling and waving and yelling and waving. Then, just as
suddenly as it had appeared, the helicopter darted away from him over the
ridge, leaving only the sound. Frank stood incredulous for a very long moment.
Then reaching down, grabbed a handful of snow and, with a single expletive,
fired toward the retreating sound. Returning to the rock ledge Frank gathered
his gear, using his sleeping bag as a makeshift duffel bag. The snow flurry had
transformed the landscape and erased any hint of a trail. Slinging the bag onto
his back, Frank noted the point on the horizon that the helicopter had
disappeared and trudged off in the direction.
*****
As the deputy entered the waiting area Bob, Ruth, and Leslie all
stood in unison.
"I'm afraid I've got some bad news. An aerial search of the
area around the lake turned up negative. Additionally the weather in the search
area has turned bad again. We've had to call off the search until conditions
improve."
"No, please," Ruth implored, "Frank is still out
there. You’ve got to find him."
"Conditions should improve by morning, and when they do
we'll continue the search," the deputy reassured them, "In the
meantime we have to hope he can manage, though I must caution you in all
honesty that even experienced hikers have become lost in these
conditions."
*****
As an icy wind swirled the fresh snow at his feet, Frank
instinctively looked to the sky. The sky on the horizon was darkening with
clouds. Frank scanned the surrounding terrain until he spotted a grove of trees
in a small valley. Frank hiked down the mountain toward the trees below as the
winds intensified. As he reached the grove, Frank spotted a cave in the granite
face beyond the trees. Frank halted at the mouth of the cave and peered in
vigilantly. It was a shallow cavern, less than ten feet deep, but tall enough
to stand up inside. There were signs that it had recently been inhabited but at
present it was empty. As Frank stood deliberating an icy gust signaled that the
storm was upon him. Looking around Frank entered the cave.
*****
Frank sat restlessly staring at the snow covered mountains.
"Dad, can we go? It's too cold and the fish aren't
biting."
"The key to fishing is patience," Dad counseled,
"Try not to think about the cold. Look around you at the beauty of the
mountains and the trees covered with snow."
"I don't care about the mountains," Frank whined,
"I don't care about fishing. It's too cold."
As the storm raged outside Frank sat shivering in the cave, his
back wedged against the cold granite. Suddenly Frank's spine went rigid, but it
had nothing to do with the cold. At the mouth of the cave a mountain lion stood
glaring and snarling as Frank sat terrified and motionless. The snarling lion
slowly approached, while Frank's mind raced desperately to plot a defense.
Cautiously Frank slowly rose to his feet and raised his arms up above his head,
until his fingertips touched the roof of the cavern. Suddenly Frank began
barking like a dog, sharp staccato yelps echoing around the cave. The startled
lion froze in it's tracks, sizing up this new enemy.
Then, hissing and growling, the lion backed out of the cave and disappeared
into the storm. Exhausted mixed with exhilaration as Frank huddled back against
the cave wall.
*****
"Well, it looks like the weather's clearing up,"
Deputy Kelly said as he walked into the room.
"Does that mean your resuming the search?" Leslie
stood as the deputy approached.
"Yes, we're fueling the chopper, and as soon that's done
they'll head back up there. I'm also organizing a ground search."
"I'll go with you," declared Bob as he moved toward
the deputy.
"That's pretty rough country," Ruth's eyes probed Bob,
"Are you sure you're up to it?"
"The walk will do me good,"
Bob smiled, "I know that country pretty well. Besides, Frank's dad was
always there when I needed help. I owe him this much."
*****
Bob stared out the kitchen window as Frank's dad talked on the
phone.
"Frank can't make it this year," Dad said, hanging up.
"He hasn't made it the last few years," Bob shook his
head.
"He's working all the time," Dad stared at the phone.
"Can't fault him for wanting to make something of himself."
As the storm cleared Frank decided to head out before the lion
came back for a rematch. Grabbing his bag Frank hiked down toward the treeline. It was late afternoon and the sun lead Frank west
down into the shadows of the pine forest. The birds announced his advance
through the woods. An hour into the hike Frank came to a small stream running
among the trees. Frank dipped his hands into the icy water and splashed it on
his face. The chill of the water sent a shock through Frank's system. The water
found a fresh cut above Frank's left cheek and sent a stinging burst to the
center of his skull. Yet the feel and the smell of the clean, brisk water gave
Frank a new burst of energy. Reasoning that the stream must lead somewhere,
Frank decided to follow it for a ways.
*****
"Move your team upstream a bit," Deputy Kelly said
into his radio, "I'm going to cover the area up by the big rock."
Kelly looked at Bob. "You think this is the trail he used?"
"This is the only way I know of to get there. He must of come this way."
Suddenly the deputy's attention shifted toward the river. One of
the explorer scouts was running toward them holding something in one hand.
Kelly instinctively moved to meet the scout with Bob following behind. When the
scout reached the men he handed the deputy Frank's
vest while pausing to catch his breath.
"Where did you find this?" Kelly examined the torn
vest.
"Just up ahead about a hundred yards off the river, " replied the scout.
Kelly held the vest to his face. "Smells like bear."
"There's no blood," Bob pointed out.
Kelly shook his head. "Still, it's not a good sign."
Kelly looked at the scout. "Fan out in that area. Look for signs of a
campsite. I'll call in the chopper." The scout went running back toward
the river. The deputy glanced at the sky.
"Maybe an hour of daylight left. We'll have to stop at
dark."
"He could be close by," Bob argued. "He could be
hurt. We should keep going."
Kelly shook his head. "I'm not getting anyone else lost up
here," he said with finality.
*****
The sun had long since left the forest in shadows when Frank
reached the cataracts. The quiet little stream suddenly had turned into a
rushing torrent as it plunged through a small ravine. On either bank a shear
rock face extended up from the rapids as much as a hundred feet to the forest
above. Frank surveyed for a path around but the thick underbrush choked off
access for as far as Frank could see. Frank realized he would be forced to
negotiate the treacherous rock face in order to pass. Slowly, carefully Frank
picked his way among the jagged rocks while listening to the raging water
below. His muscles ached as he pulled himself along, but once committed he
realized there is no other way. Finally he reached the bottom of the ravine
only to find a small thicket blocking his path. Frank made several attempts to
push his way through the bramble, cursing as the brush tore at his clothes and
his skin. Finally, bellowing in frustration, Frank sagged to his knees in
defeat. In the twilight Frank scanned the area. About twenty yards downstream
Frank spied a small clearing on the other side of the stream. The only path was
down the stream picking his way along the rocks. One slip would land Frank in
the water, soaking him and everything he owned. And with night falling cold
upon the mountains, that was a recipe for hypothermia, which more than likely
meant death in his condition. Slowly, carefully, Frank stepped along the
rushing stream, his eyes straining in the darkness searching for the next
footstep. His blistered feet ached in the icy water and his knees trembled from
the cold and the exhaustion, but Frank pushed ahead, drawing strength from the
roaring water and the crisp mountain air. Finally he reaching the clearing and
collapsed on the shore, resting on the cool, soft earth.
*****
Something was wrong. Ruth could see it in Bob’s face as he
walked into the room. Sheriff Moore and Deputy Kelly entered at the same time,
looking grim and determined. Ruth trembled as she rose.
"They’re calling off the search," Bob announced as he
approached Ruth.
"No, you can’t. He’s still out there. Bob, talk to
them."
"I already tried," Bob said, the fatigue tearing at
his voice.
"I’m sorry," Sheriff Moore explained in a reasoned
tone, "we just don’t have the manpower or the budget to extend the search.
Our budget was cut twenty percent this year. I had to lay off three deputies
last winter."
"But a man’s life is at stake," Ruth insisted.
"I think we have to face the fact," Deputy Kelly spoke
with measured conviction, "that the chances of finding him alive are
fairly remote. If he was an experienced hiker there might be some hope. But a
novice out in these mountains in these conditions…well I just think we have to
be realistic. I’m sorry."
*****
After Frank had rested a bit he found the energy to build a
small fire out of pine needles and bark. Once the fire got going he fed it with
spent pinecones, which crackled and popped and shot sparks out in all
directions. He broke off a small branch and used it to dry his socks over the
fire, holding them above the fire as if they were large soggy marshmallows. He
placed his boots as close to the fire as he dared. Frank was hungry and sore,
but in his exhaustion he barely noticed. It was an exhaustion that washed over
him, pulling him under until his whole being had one overwhelming need. As he
lay in his sleeping bag melting into sleep he stared up though the trees at the
clear night sky bristling with stars.
"Well thanks a lot, Dad."
"You’re welcome," came a
voice from across the clearing. Frank turned on his side and saw his dad lying
in his old bag ten feet away. "But your sincerity seems to have gotten
lost in all that sarcasm."
"Look, it’s been kind of a rough day," Frank said,
clearly annoyed by the intrusion. "I’m really don’t
need this right now, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some sleep."
"Yeah, you had quite an adventure today, boy. By the way,
that barking dog bit was inspired. Thought I was going to
bust a gut."
"Well I’m glad you’re so damn amused." Frank raised up on an elbow and glared across the campfire.
"Guess it wasn’t a wasted trip after all. I knew there had to be some
reason I risked life and limb to haul your ashes up here."
"Ashes? Those old things. Hell, you could have dumped those in the
Webber for all I care."
"Great! That makes it all worth it. I take time off from
work to bring you up here…"
"You didn’t bring me up here, son, I brought you."
"Why? That’s all I want to know. What was so damn important
that you had to drag me up here one more time?"
"Just trying to get your attention. Hard to do down there, with the cell phones and the traffic and the
TV and the "civilization". Hard for a
man to hear himself think."
"Okay, so here we are, just you
and me. What do you want to talk about? Want to tell me the story of your life
one more time?"
The old man chuckled. "My story’s over. We know how it
turned out. It’s your story that matters now. It’s what you make of your life.
A life story isn’t about the ending, it about everything that comes
before."
"So this is some great mystical journey about the meaning
of life? I’m supposed to come down from the mountain with all the
answers?"
"Answers? Hell, you
don’t even understand the questions yet. But you’ve still got time, if you make
use of it."
"Dad, I’m really tired. Can we talk about this in the
morning?"
"I’ll be up early. I’ve had my say. But I’ll be around. I’m
part of your life…always have been."
"Dad," Frank felt the ten-year- old creeping into his
voice, "do ghosts snore?"
"Guess we’ll find out. Goodnight,
son."
*****
"Not as many people as last time," Ruth couldn’t help
thinking as she looked around the room. Most of the people she didn’t know;
business associates of Frank from
"So everything’s on hold?" Bob asked Leslie.
"Legally, nothing can proceed until it’s
official. Sandra is in the process of closing out the office. Jim Riley has
taken on as many of Frank’s client as he can handle…and he’s offered to put the
condo on the market when the time comes. We just have to wait."
"Maybe it’s for the best," Ruth asserted, "until
we know for sure."
"Ruth," Leslie’s eyes softened, "nobody would
love to see Frank walk through that door right now than me, but I think we need
to accept that that’s not going to happen."
"I’m afraid I have to agree," Bob’s voice was low and
sad. "If he were still alive we should have heard something by now."
"I know the chances are slim, but some part of me deep down
won’t give up on him. I just feel he’s out there somewhere. I just wish I knew
why he insisted on going up there alone."
"Truthfully, did any of us really know him," Leslie
shook her head. "I was married to him for fifteen years and I never felt
like I really knew him."
"I think he closed up when his mother passed away,"
Ruth said sadly. "I remember him at the funeral…this scared little boy
clinging to his dad. It was hard on him."
"It was hard on both of them," Bob responded,
"but they never would let on. They were alike that way. I think that’s
what drove them apart for so long. Maybe they’re together now."
"Maybe so," Ruth nodded.
*****
Frank lay face down by the stream, still as the rock beneath
him. His clenched left hand stretched to the water’s edge, holding the end of a
fishing line that led down into the water.
"I know you’re down there," Frank whispered low.
"I’ve got something you can’t resist. Look at the size of that worm…that
big, fat, juicy worm. You know you want it. Just one big
bite." Suddenly the line tightens around Frank’s hand. Giving a
quick jerk with the left, Frank seized the line with his right hand and began
pulling slowly upward.
"Yes, I think you and I have a deal, Mr. Fish!"
Frank’s voice rose triumphant. "A pleasure doing
business with you."
As Frank hiked back to camp, the cleaned trout slung over his
shoulder, he inhaled the warm late summer air. His clothes were tattered and a
scraggly beard covered his face, but his limp was gone and his muscles had
hardened and tanned. He gazed up through the treetops at the clouds and
listened to the song of the birds. Then Frank heard a voice. A
female. Then a male. Franks eyes scanned the
direction the voices came from. Through the trees, not fifty yards away, he
could see a young couple hiking up the trail toward him. A shout built in his
lungs and rushed to his throat…where it lodged. His hand, which had
instinctively started to wave, dropped back to his side. Frank stood quietly
watching for a placid moment before edging softly back into the woods.
*****