Randy turned to her. “Do you have a bike, Wanda?” he asked.
“No.”
“We might have to fix that.”
“What would I do with a bike?” Wanda asked.
“Ride it!”
Wanda laughed at the image. “Grown-ups in Eula don’t ride bikes,” she said.
Randy and Melissa laughed hesitantly, and Wanda was aware that she had been rude. She bit her lip.
“All right,” Melissa said to Randy. “Hit the showers. Then fire up the grill. Wanda and I are going to take the dogs out.”
“Aye-aye, sergeant,” Randy said.
“You’ll need a scarf,” Melissa said to Wanda on the way out.
“It’s not that cold,” said Wanda.
“Oh, trust me on this.” Melissa ducked into a little closet in the entryway and handed Wanda a scarf and mittens. Then they headed out onto a trail into the woods as the dogs trotted happily ahead. The smallest dog had a tail that, halfway down, kinked to the right in a perfect L. When the dog wagged its tail with extra vigor, the tip jabbed it in the side. Wanda pointed this out to Melissa.
“Yes, that’s Simon. Poor thing. I think his tail got slammed in a door when he was a puppy. We got him from a shelter. Go run, Simon,” she said. She threw a stick and Simon ran happily into the brush after it, his L swinging. “I’m not sure if this is a concern of yours,” Melissa said, “but Randy and I are very solid, as a couple. As far as raising a kid, is what I’m getting at. We’ve been together, gosh, since we were barely more than teenagers. I can’t imagine being with anyone else, and, I’m sure, he can’t either. It’s forever.”
“You’re lucky,” Wanda said.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to brag!” Melissa said. “Damn it, I forgot about Hank . . . the breakup. I’m sorry, Wanda. I just meant to put your mind at rest as far as carrying a child for us—that the child will always have two parents. That came out wrong.”
Wanda couldn’t believe Melissa was being so careful with her. Why would a woman who built a house worry about impressing her? “Melissa, forget about Hank. I can see how happy you and Randy are. It makes me feel very . . . secure.”
“Good,” Melissa said. “It’s not an act we’re putting on for you, just so you know. If we have a child, that child will have a good life.”
The trail narrowed through a thicket, then opened up to an incline littered with boulders. “We’re almost there, Wanda,” said Melissa. “Don’t turn around until I tell you.”
A little out of breath, Wanda buttoned her jacket as she stepped over stones. It was a denim jacket, lined with fake lamb’s wool and studded with shiny metal stars along the hems and pockets. Melissa wore the kind of jacket people buy to go hiking in. Wanda pulled on the fluffy mittens, which, on her narrow cuffs, seemed as big as oven mitts.
“All right,” Melissa said, sitting down on a large, flat rock, “now you can look.”
Wanda turned and witnessed the glowing Columbia bent into an S by the slopes of the gorge, which lay against each other like folds of fabric, each a paler shade of blue, off into the distance. The slopes plateaued into a perfectly flat horizon, and car lights twinkled here and there along the rim. In the haze under the sun, mountains appeared almost indistinguishable from the clouds. The idea of the time that it took for the river to carve this beautiful groove into the earth was, to Wanda, as awesome as the view.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said.
“There’s a pun there,” Melissa replied. “Sit down.”
Wanda squatted next to Melissa, hesitating to put her bottom on the cold rock. The wind stung her ears, and she was glad now for the scarf.
“I was hoping there’d be a sunset,” Melissa said. The sun lost its shape in the haze, and the sky above them glowed amber. “A good sunset, here, in the spring when all the waterfalls are going—you should see it.” After a minute, she said, “Let’s not get caught up in it. It’s time to get dinner on.”
Melissa and Wanda walked back down. The dogs, having spent all their energy, trotted along beside them until the house came into view. Then they ran to the patio and sat obediently waiting to be let in, all except Simon, the crooked-tailed dog, who whimpered and dug at the threshold as if he could tunnel under the door.
“Simon, stop that. What is it?” Melissa said. Then her face changed. “Randy!” she shouted, and she ran into the house.
When Wanda entered the barn-room, she saw a salad bowl and a cutting board on the bar. On the cutting board lay a cucumber. She didn’t see Melissa or Randy.
“Wanda? Could you get these dogs off?” Melissa called.
Wanda came around the bar to see Melissa crouched over Randy and all the dogs crowding around. Melissa pushed one of them away and said, “Go on!”
“Come, dogs!” Wanda called, clapping her hands. Two followed her and she put them out; the other two she had to drag by their collars. Simon fought her all the way. Then she went back to Melissa.
“Grab me a washcloth,” Melissa said.
“Do you want it wet?” Wanda asked, taking a cloth from beside the sink.
“No.”
Melissa took the cloth and folded it. She gently pressed on Randy’s chin to open his mouth, and lay the cloth on his tongue. Randy’s head was cradled in her lap. His body was stiff and quaking. Melissa used one hand to firmly draw Randy’s jaw up into an underbite, the other she laid on his chest. She bent over him, sheltering him, and whispered, “Shh-shh-shh.” Now his body rocked back and forth, as if gathering momentum to roll over. “Wanda, could you move this stuff away?”
Wanda picked up a knife off the floor and dragged a nearby chair across the kitchen. Now Randy seemed to be trying to keep his arms straight. His fingers were curled tightly, and the heels of his hands thrust against the floor tiles. A drawn-out frightened sound came from his throat, like a trapped word struggling to get out.
A nightmare, Wanda thought—he’s caught in a nightmare, the kind where you’re paralyzed and you can’t wake yourself up.
“Hush, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Melissa said.
Randy slackened and twitched. Then he was still. Melissa stroked his face. They stayed like that for several minutes, far longer than the seizure itself had lasted, while Wanda watched from across the room, unsure whether to give them help or privacy. Finally, she put down the knife, walked over to Melissa, and lay her hand on her shoulder.
Melissa looked up, her face surprisingly composed, and said, “Thanks, Wanda.” She set aside the cloth and straightened Randy’s glasses. Wanda knew now why he wore that silly band. Then Melissa said, “Could you help me get him into a chair?”
Wanda knelt and took an elbow, and they assisted Randy as he rose and walked into the seating area beyond the bar.
“Do you want some water, sweetheart?” Melissa asked.
Randy nodded.
“Let me,” said Wanda.
They sat with Randy patiently as he took sips of water. Melissa said, “Simon always knows. Did you see him scratching?”
On Randy’s face was an expression of deep sorrow. At last he looked at Wanda and said, “Sorry about that.”
Wanda shook her head, no.
“Randy’s epileptic,” Melissa said in a confidential tone. “It’s not severe. We haven’t told them, at the agency, because it will disqualify us.”
Randy corrected her weakly: “We think it might disqualify us.”
“In any case,” Melissa said, “we definitely planned to tell you—or whoever we ended up being matched with. I understand if this . . . disturbs you.”
Wanda, overwhelmed and frightened of saying the wrong thing, shook her head again.
“Well, I’d like to ask you not to tell Helen. I’ll understand if you feel that you need to tell her. But, as a favor to us, I ask you not to.”
Tears clouded Wanda’s vision—all those lies she had told them in the office!—and she said, “I won’t tell.”
“Thanks,” Melissa said briskly. Then she leaned
in toward Randy. It seemed she wanted to distract him so he wouldn’t see the tears in Wanda’s eyes. “Sweetheart, do you want to lie down for a bit?”
“I think I will,” he said.
“He gets very tired . . .”
Randy rose from the chair and walked slowly across the room. Before he disappeared into the glass hallway, he reached up and touched the lowest-hanging leaf of a plant that overflowed from the balcony. Melissa had turned to Wanda to say, “Well, I guess you’ll be helping me with dinner,” and didn’t see Randy touch that leaf, but the gesture moved Wanda. It was obvious to her that it was something he did habitually, maybe every time he entered that hallway, like how she herself always looked through the peephole before opening the door, even when she knew who it was, and like how her mother used to pull the lever and move the car seat back and forth to get it just right before starting the car, even though she was the only one who drove it. Habit. Wanda sensed that Randy had done it this time to mark that the seizure was over—to touch waking life after the nightmare.
“I’m happy to help,” she said.
They went to the kitchen. “Wanda, could you rinse off the tuna? I get it at the Chinese grocery, and there’s always lots of flies.”
“Um, sure.” Did Melissa want her to clean the cans, or to rinse the tuna inside? Either seemed a little excessive. But, wary of saying anything that would make her seem stupid or rude, Wanda began searching a shelf for the tuna.
“It’s right there,” said Melissa, indicating the counter. There was no tuna there, though, and Wanda gave Melissa a hesitant, bewildered shake of the head.
Melissa came over and opened a paper packet, revealing what Wanda assumed was a slab of sirloin. “Here,” she said.
“That’s meat,” Wanda said, aware that she was stumbling, unaware of how.
“You’ve never seen fresh tuna?” Melissa marveled, laughing.
Wanda shrank.
“Of course you haven’t!” Melissa said, suddenly businesslike. “You live far from the ocean. Treat it just like a steak. Rinse it off in the sink, then cut it into three.”
Wanda took the package, sickened a little by the brilliant red color, the fleshy aroma, and the idea of a cow-sized fish. She had always assumed that tuna were smaller than the catfish she used to catch with her uncle and that the meat of one filled one can.
Later, as Wanda was setting the table, Randy walked in with a shy smile.
“Well, if it isn’t Lazarus!” cried Melissa.
“Back from the dead,” Randy responded.
Wanda saw that this was something they had said a thousand times, but this time it didn’t seem canned, but sweet. She regretted having judged them harshly at the office.
Randy put his arms around Melissa, and she drew him down to share some private words. Then she said aloud, “You’re just in time. Sit down, both of you. Dinner’s on.”
“Wanda, I’m sorry you had to see that, before,” Randy said.
“Please,” Wanda said.
“It can really scare some people,” Randy said.
“It’s okay. I’ve seen worse.”
Randy’s gaze lingered on her for a moment as Melissa brought in a big plate with tuna steaks, crisscrossed with grill marks and surrounded by little potatoes. “Ta-daa!” Melissa said.
Wanda, when she said that she had seen worse, had meant finding her mother passed out on the floor—that had happened more than once. And, naturally, that led her thoughts to the morning she found her mother dead—the blaring TV and the cheerful breeze. They began to eat. Wanda didn’t like the flavor of the tuna where it was red inside, and labored to eat only the cooked part without making a show. The three struggled to make conversation, and for Wanda it was as difficult to manage as the tuna steak. Every avenue dead-ended in something about which she had lied. She would curb her story abruptly, and Randy, who still seemed weak, would nod, leaving poor Melissa to come up with a fresh topic. Wanda’s lies seemed almost to crowd her lungs and block her breath. Finally she said, “Can I tell you guys something?”
There must have been an alarm in her voice, because Melissa and Randy stopped eating.
“It’s not just you,” Wanda said. “I lied to Helen, too. My parents didn’t die in a car wreck last year, they died when I was little. I can’t even remember my dad. My uncle killed him in a hunting accident when I was just two. And my mom died when I was eleven. She had been . . . sick . . . a long time.” Even now Wanda couldn’t tell the whole truth, but this was a giant step toward it. “My life hasn’t really been like I said. It’s been pretty rough.” She stopped herself. That was enough for now.
Melissa and Randy looked down and, after a moment, started to eat again. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Melissa said.
“Did you go into foster care?” Randy asked.
“Yeah, for a year. I lived in this house in Chandler with these other foster kids, boys. Most of them ended up in prison.”
“And,” Randy said, “probably should have been in prison already?”
“Yeah.”
Randy nodded gravely.
“Then I lived with my big sister awhile, till she moved to Boise.”
“I was a foster kid,” Randy said.
“Melissa told me.”
“I was quite a mess until I met Melissa. It was Melissa that made me get my GED, and her parents that helped me open the bike shop.”
Wanda looked to Melissa, who shook her head without raising her eyes. Wanda had always dreamed that someone would come and save her like that.
They were quiet for a while, then Wanda said, “I hope what I said doesn’t change your mind. I mean, if you were going to choose me.”
“Wanda,” Melissa said. “Remember how I burst out crying when I saw you?”
“Mel, don’t,” Randy said.
“Randy doesn’t want me to tell you, but I will. I never cry. The reason I cried when I saw you was because I knew, I absolutely knew that you were the one who would carry our baby.”
Randy put his hand on Melissa’s and said, “Wanda, don’t let this make you feel pressured. It’s just a feeling Melissa had, and we’re both pretty wound up.”
“He’s right,” said Melissa. “It’s just a feeling . . .” Her eyes locked with Wanda’s significantly, as if to say, But it’s true.
Wanda smiled bashfully.
“All right,” Randy said, “enough serious talk. Let’s enjoy our meal.”
“Oh, one more thing,” Wanda said. “Earlier tonight, when I said that grown-ups in Eula don’t ride bikes, I didn’t mean anything by it. I think it’s great that you ride a bike. Really. I think your whole life here is great.”
“Thank you,” Randy said.
Now Wanda felt as if the block had been removed and her breath was free. They finished their dinner and sat for a while talking before empty plates. Then Melissa brought out bowls of ice cream sprinkled with warmed berries.
“These are from Melissa’s garden,” Randy said, picking up a blueberry with his fingertips and tossing it into his mouth. “She freezes them so we can have them year-round.”
“Yummy,” Wanda said.
“It’s a shame you’re leaving tomorrow,” Melissa said. “We could have shown you the area. Oh, but I forget, you’ve been to Portland before.”
“Yeah, well, barely,” Wanda said.
“What do you mean?”
“I was here with some friends for a weekend. All I saw of Portland was the inside of a few bars.”
“You didn’t go to the Cascades?” Randy said.
“Nope.”
“Have you been to Seattle?” Melissa asked. “Have you seen Puget Sound?”
“Portland’s as far as I got.”
“You didn’t even go to the beach? It’s just over an hour away!” Randy said.
“No. I’ve never seen the ocean. Isn’t that stupid?”
Melissa and Randy were dumbstruck. Then they glanced at each other as if to confirm something.
“What time is your bus tomorrow?” Randy asked.
“Noon.”
“You can’t go back to Eula without seeing the ocean.”
“Wanda,” Melissa said, “would you like to stay here tonight, in the guest room, and go to the ocean in the morning? We can have you back at your hotel in time to make a noon bus.”
“Don’t you guys have to work?” Wanda asked.
“The shop doesn’t open till ten,” Randy said.
“And I can be late,” Melissa said.
“You guys are so nice,” Wanda said, humbled yet again.
“DID YOU MAKE them?” Enrique asked Gene when they met that night to paint the diorama.
Gene handed over not several large, colorful posters but a flimsy chart made from taped-together sheets of lined notebook paper. Small cross-sections of lakes drawn in pencil were accompanied by mathematical calculations marred with eraser marks. “Crater Lake in Oregon is the deepest lake in America,” Gene said in his computer-voice. “It’s two thousand feet deep. Three times as deep as Lake Nyos, and five times the volume. If this happened there, everyone in the towns of Kirk, Fort Klamath, and Union would die. Thirty thousand people.”
“That’s neat, Gene, but it’s not our project. Our project is to list the possible causes of what happened, and show what it would be like if it happened here. Remember what Abby said? Narrow the focus.”
Gene pointed farther down the chart. “Pend Oreille Lake. Twelve hundred feet deep, three times the surface area, five times the volume. Everyone in Sandpoint and Coeur d’Alene could die—half the population of northern Idaho.”
“Gene,” whimpered Enrique, flapping the sheet, “we’re doing Lake Overlook, not Pend Oreille! You didn’t make them, did you?”
Gene ducked his head.
Enrique had been forced to give Gene assignments to keep him from following tangents such as this one. Gene was supposed to have made posters listing the gases that could have poisoned the people, demonstrating how the weight of the water could have held down the gas and showing the volume of Lake Nyos versus Lake Overlook.
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