Rock Bottom (Em Hansen Mysteries)

by Sarah Andrews

“Handle what?”

  “Damned Wink. Damn Wink!”

  “Tell me!” I insisted.

  Brendan walked to the edge of the clearing and turned his face toward the trees. “I told Dad not to do anything, but he was so upset when he asked how the boat got loose, and I said I didn’t know. He asked if I’d done anything to the lines, like touched them or anything, and I said no, because I hadn’t, but then he asked if Wink…” He hung his head in shame, as if the whole horror of the experience were his fault.

  “Wink untied your line, Brendan? Really?”

  Brendan sighed, the sound wind makes when it rustles dry leaves. “The raft began to drift just after the dory left, and Em…”

  I waited, letting him speak when he was ready.

  Another sigh. He said, “I heard him laughing.”

  Diary of Holly Ann St. Denis

  April 10, Phantom Ranch

  Dear God,

  Lord, why is this all so difficult for me? Do You test me? I am here, Your humble servant. I know that my trials are as nothing compared to what Jesus Your Son suffered on the cross. When I play my guitar for You, I feel Your Love raining down from above. Then “Uncle” Terry looks at me and I see the devil, Your fallen son. I know that we’re all Your children and like Jesus Your Son I should love him. Why do we make life hell for each other? I’m not afraid to speak straight to You, Lord. WHY DO YOU ALLOW THIS? What would You have me do?

  PRAISE God!

  Lord I believe; help thou mine unbelief!

  I thought I was safe from him last night at Cremation Campground because the tents were so close together, but he found me on the trail to the latrine and he said I looked ill and did I need him to lay on his hands and heal me and I said no I was fine. I had my period was all, but I didn’t tell him that, because Mom says he thinks such things are the sign of women’s sin. Then he insisted, and put his hands on me in that way that makes me feel sick like I’m going to throw up. Is there something wrong with me, Lord? He says I’m not receiving his blessing correctly. He whispered that I’m a growing woman now, old enough to serve him in the ways You designed me to serve him. Is that true? Just then Dr. Oberley came down that path and started to sing one of Your holy hymns, real loud, and of course “Uncle” Terry had to let go of me and move away, like it was all a lie that he was going to heal me in the first place. Dr. O just stood there looking all friendly and “Uncle” Terry slithered off like a snake.

  I like Dr. O. He gave me and Mom a ride in his dory between the big rapids yesterday so we could have some privacy from everyone, and he told us stories about the rocks and all the creatures that lived in the waters before the Flood killed them. Dr. O treated Mom really nice and made her happy. When it got colder because the wind came up and the clouds came over he let us wrap up in his sleeping bag, and it was just so jolly riding along over the waters like we were in an old-fashioned sleigh. We laughed and told jokes and we all sang silly songs like before Mom found Jesus. It felt a little naughty, but Mom looked years younger and Dr. O told her so and that made her even happier. I like thinking of these things much more than what happened at Cremation.

  I was still standing there on the trail to the latrine with Dr. O when Mom came down to use it and found us there. I told her that Dr. O was just keeping me company while I “recovered” from “Uncle” Terry’s laying on of hands, and she asked what I meant by that, sort of angry, but Dr. O said in this real calm voice, “You know exactly what she means, Lisette,” and she looked from him to me and got real quiet. Then Dr. O said, “I’ll just leave you two here so you can have a chat,” and he wandered up the path. So Mom didn’t seem to have anything to say to me then, and I couldn’t figure out what to say either. We moved in behind the screen of leaves that gives us privacy when we’re using the latrine and suddenly we heard a man’s voice we didn’t recognize. He was talking really angry at Dr. O. He said, “I am ordering you to keep your hands off my boy!” and Dr. O said, “What are you talking about?” The man said, “You’re a filthy coward! If you have something to say to me, say it straight! Leave my son in peace! If you go anywhere near him between here and Diamond Creek I will kill you!”

  Heavenly Father, this really frightened me, the idea that there was someone out there who could hate a man like Dr. O. So I peeked between the leaves so I’d know who said it. It was a big man, very tall, and he had one hand out like he was going to reach for Dr. O’s throat. I was so scared! And now here we sit at the riverbank at Phantom Ranch because Mom took off before we could launch saying she had to make some phone calls from the ranger station.

  Please, Lord, don’t let anything happen to Dr. Oberley. He is the one kind man in this place.

  APRIL 9–10: THE OVENS OF THE EARTH

  Fritz was unwilling to discuss what he had said to Wink with me when he returned to our tent at Cremation Campsite. Brendan was already waiting, curled up in his sleeping bag trying to look like he was doing his math homework. Fritz was clearly upset, but he just shucked off his sandals and jeans and climbed into his own sleeping bag and rolled over and faced the wall of the tent. It was a long time before I slept, but I am sure that Fritz was still awake when I did.

  In the morning Wink encouraged Julianne to get an early start up the trail to the South Rim. “I see weather building,” he said, pointing at the single tiny cloud that remained from the day before. “Really, take your breakfast in your pockets and eat on the way. You don’t want to get caught out there.”

  Danielle told Julianne that this was probably a good idea. “I’m going to run parts of it, so you get started and I’ll catch you up, okay?”

  Wink took Julianne across the river to Phantom Ranch and returned with our final new passenger, Glenda Fittle. She was breezy and confident and chatted us all up, explaining that she was acquainted with Wink from an earlier trip down the canyon. Her father had drawn a private permit for that trip but had made some off-the-record deal with Wink to help them out. She and Wink had become “friends,” she informed us, letting the word roll out just a fraction of a second longer than might have been entirely necessary, but she wanted us all to know that more than anything she was just delighted to be back down in this big, gorgeous canyon.

  Self-assigned ferryman Wink had rowed one girlfriend across the river to fetch another. I had to admire his finesse.

  Glenda immediately set to work and helped clean up the breakfast dishes. She had hiked down to Phantom Ranch several days earlier and had stayed at one of the cabins, she told us. I envied the fact that she thus was up early, showered, freshly coifed, and ready and rearing to go at 7:30 A.M.

  After loading up at Cremation we stopped at Phantom Ranch to receive Glenda and Hakatai’s personal gear and stow our shipment of fresh vegetables that had been brought down by mules. Fritz told us we could take an hour to admire the rustic allure of Phantom Ranch and use the “real live flush toilets,” and make any calls we needed to make.

  Fritz and Brendan and I hiked up to the cantina, which was built of large granite cobbles that were no doubt pulled straight out of Bright Angel Creek. Brendan had lost a sandal when the raft flipped, and as he ambled into the little shop in the cantina to see if they had a new pair for him to wear, I drew Fritz aside. “What happened last night between you and Wink?” I asked.

  Fritz scowled. “I’d rather not talk about that.”

  “And I’d rather you did. Really. I’m worried, Fritz.”

  “Well, don’t be.”

  “But that idiot untied the raft with Brendan in it!”

  “He denied doing that.”

  “I don’t care what he said, I care what he did!”

  Fritz’s jaw muscles tightened. “I took care of things. Put it out of your mind. Relax.” Fritz stared away from me, keeping an eye on his son through the doorway.

  Giving up, I hurried around to the side and found the pay phone that was mounted near the toilets. “It’s me, Em,” I told Faye when she answered my call. “Have you found out anything?�
�

  “Nothing unexpected,” she began. “That address in Rocky Hill is an apartment over a bar on a side street. He has a medical discharge from the army, which won’t surprise you, but it’s for a back injury, not anything psychological. He’s got one prior for indecent exposure, but it was some kind of a party weekend in Princeton and the judge let the whole lot of them off. Beyond that it’s mostly misdemeanor stuff. No DUI, no drunk and disorderly, no wife beating, or at least none has been reported. There’s one record of being hauled in for a bar fight in Flagstaff, but he was let go on his own recognizance. There is no car registered to him. There’s a civil suit pending because he borrowed someone else’s car and left it near the Philadelphia airport, where it was vandalized and collected parking tickets. That’s interesting because he doesn’t currently have a valid driver’s license, having let his Arizona one lapse several years ago. Sorry, that’s all I’ve gotten so far, except for this: He hasn’t been seen around the Geology Department for several months. Oh, and he’s in bad with the department secretary because he used her phone for long distance calls without permission.”

  “Where did they say he’s been?”

  “My cousin managed to find the guy who shared an office with Oberley at the university, and the guy had no idea where he was and made it very clear that he was not the least bit interested to find out. So how are things going? Has he kept his hands off Brendan?”

  “No.” I recounted the tale of Brendan’s ride down Sockdolager Rapid.

  “Shit!” said Faye. “And Fritz hasn’t sent him packing?”

  “They had some kind of a come-to-Jesus talk last night, by the looks of it, but all I could get out of Fritz this morning is that Wink denies untying the line to our raft. Wink is a slippery little snake, a fluid liar, well practiced at wiggling out of things. Sometimes I’m not sure if he knows when he’s telling the truth or not. And you know Fritz.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Honorable.”

  I sighed. “That’s why I love him. And he puts up with me into the bargain.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Em. So where do we go from here?”

  We. Where do we go. Until Faye spoke that word I hadn’t realized how alone I felt with this problem. “For now, it seems like we’re stuck with him, because once you’re on this river with your equipment, there’s really only one way off it, and that’s to row your boat all the way to Diamond Creek and pull it out by truck or trailer. But the thing that gets me is that I really can’t figure out why he’s here.”

  “What do you mean? Does he have anywhere else to be?”

  “No, but he’s not getting along with us, and as near as I can figure, he’s not even trying. One of the other women on this trip trotted out her theory about his having issues about authority figures, but would he come on a trip with a bunch of people he doesn’t know just to play with that kind of demon?”

  “I’m with you, Em. If you think there’s something going on under the surface, it may not be just another hidden rock. Meanwhile, best of luck, and if I think of anything, I’ll leave a message in your voice mail at home so you can retrieve it. Will that work? And if you think of something, call.”

  “Thanks for the stove,” I said.

  “That was easy. Make sure you give Fritz lots of sex so he stays as calm as possible.”

  “You think of everything.”

  We signed off after that, and I headed into the bathroom. It was indeed a delight to use a proper porcelain potty after nine days with the portable pit toilets we were required to use, and as I washed my hands at the sink afterward and splashed clear water on my face I noted what a novelty it was that the wash water wasn’t carrying a load of silt. I was startled to see my own reflection in the mirror. It was strange to realize that in just nine days I had gotten so far away from civilization that I wasn’t even worried about what I looked like anymore and didn’t even entirely recognize myself. I stood and stared for a while, contemplating this. So many things had shifted. I was loving life on the river, at least when I wasn’t preoccupied with the threat Wink posed to Brendan, and when I wasn’t turning good energy into bad by disliking the man so intensely. I stared at my browned face, deciding that my dislike was a matter of distrust and was therefore quite reasonable, but did I have to let it sour my experience of this magical place?

  I took a walk a little way down Bright Angel Canyon to the mule pen and admired the plucky little animals. Day after day they trotted up and down next to the sheer drop-offs along the South Kaibab Trail heavily laden with supplies and equipment and tourists. One of them lifted his head long enough to stare at me, as if to ask, Why are you humans such a strange species? Just look at the hassles you create! Can’t you just be happy feeding on some nice grain?

  For a moment I felt overwhelmed by the great cluster of longings and wishes and wants and needs that came with being human. I wanted to run up the trail that led up Bright Angel Canyon to the North Rim and keep on running. You can deal with this, I told myself firmly. Don’t be so emotional. Get going. Fritz and Brendan are waiting for you.

  Emotional. Why was I being so emotional? Usually being out of doors was a tonic for me, but over the last few days I had grown unusually tired. I told myself that big water was a stressor. And it had been cold and windy, and maybe that was why Fritz was so testy, too. Having thus rationalized most of my worries into a small smear, I said good-bye to the mules and headed back toward the bathrooms for one more experience of modern plumbing.

  As I rounded the ranger station, I bumped right smack into some sort of domestic squabble. I recognized the woman with the fancy sandals and Holly Ann, the teenaged girl who played the guitar, and the man with the big Adam’s apple who had led them all in prayer when they camped next to us at Nankoweap. The man didn’t look very prayerful now; in fact, he looked very angry. He was leaning close to Ms. Sandals with his face all red, giving her a dose of words, struggling to keep his voice low so that he wouldn’t be overheard. The woman looked to be in a full-on state of drama about something or other, and Holly Ann’s eyes were round with fright. There was something downright ugly about the Adam’s apple guy’s manner, so I slowed down and put on a big grin and said, “Hey there, Holly Ann, so how’s your trip coming along? Did you like the big rapids yesterday?”

  As the girl turned toward me I could see the relief flush down across her body, but her eyes stayed wide with anxiety. “Hello, Ms. Hansen,” she said, and added, “It’s really nice to see you again,” in a tone that suggested that she’d like me to stick around.

  The man reached out one of his large hands, applied it to the woman’s arm, and tugged her toward the river. Pulled off balance, she lurched toward him and had to swing out one foot to catch herself. The action of landing hard on that foot yanked a gasp out of her.

  I looked down to see what had made her gasp and saw that her feet were badly torn up in those dainty little sandals. “Jesus!” I exclaimed, immediately sorry for my choice of epithet, and quickly followed it with “Wow, is there anything I can do to help you with those blisters? We’ve got a good first-aid kit on our rafts, which I’m sure are parked right next to yours. I mean really, let me help you!”

  The woman gawked at me wild-eyed, as if paralyzed by my offer.

  I stared back at her, amazed to see that much eye makeup this far from civilization.

  “Mo-om!” Holly Ann urged. “Really, that’s a good idea! Let’s let Ms. Hansen help us!”

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” said the man, suddenly courteous to the point of effusiveness. He smiled sweetly at me, but tightened his grip on the woman.

  Finally the woman spoke. “It’s all right, Holly Ann,” she said, her voice heavy with resignation. Suddenly her eyes focused on me and she said, “You’re with Dr. Oberley’s group?”

  I almost gagged on the idea of calling Wink “Dr.” and I wanted to assure her hotly that he was in my group, not the other way around.

  She said, “Please tell Dr.
Oberley that Lisette says … to have a nice trip, and … to, er, stay in touch.”

  At her words, the man’s face clouded an ugly red, and he twisted the woman’s arm so fiercely that she winced.

  “Sure, I’ll tell him,” I said. As it was clear that by staying I was only adding to the woman’s agony, I gave Holly Ann a sympathetic glance, excused myself, and headed toward the river. It was several minutes before Holly Ann managed to get her hobbling mother down to the rafts. Brendan trotted over to say hello. I cocked an ear to listen.

  “Oh, hi!” said Holly Ann. “You’re Brendan, right? Mrs. Hansen’s son?”

  “Em’s my stepmom,” said Brendan, unaware that I could hear him. “And she isn’t Mrs. Hansen exactly. Our name’s Calder, but she kept her name when she married my dad because she said she was so old already that she wouldn’t be able to keep track of a new name.”

  “How old is she?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Forty-something. Really old.”

  “Does she have children from another marriage?”

  “Nope. This is the first time she’s been married. She told me that she had to kiss an awful lot of toads before one of them turned out to be a prince.”

  “So you’re an only child?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Me, too. My mom wasn’t even married before. I was born in sin, she said, but now we’ve found Christ, and he’s my brother, and our sins have been washed away.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, just saying how things were in her everyday life.

  I listened intently, amazed at the easy candor that could exist between two adolescents who happened to find themselves on the river together. It occurred to me then how lonely Brendan must be, and perhaps this girl was, too.

  Holly Ann brought the subject of their discussion back to me. “Your stepmom’s really neat. She’s a scientist and all.”

  I thought, Thank you for that!

  “Yeah, I like Em a lot. I kind of keep putting it to her about stuff my mom teaches me from the Bible, but she’s real respectful and doesn’t try to tell me what to think. She explains what she thinks but stays out of my stuff.”