Autumn Imago

by Bryan Wiggins

  I stopped walking and stood—watching that vision unfold as the guests booked for cabin 6 made their way to me.

  14

  The Good Shepherd

  I should have changed clothes. My shift was supposed to end when Tyler’s started. If I had slipped out of my uniform, the late summer weekenders who poured into the campground would have swarmed him instead of me. Fifteen minutes after I checked my family into Sentinel, I’d become a walking information booth for every new visitor to Kidney Pond. I spent the rest of the afternoon playing tour guide and cop, handing out tips about trout and trails while trying to keep some of Baxter’s more citified clientele from burning the place to the ground.

  Late in the day I was on my knees in the field, helping a young mother scoop up ice and groceries from the cooler she’d dropped. I heard a shriek, then laughter, and looked up to see the Broken Bull scrambling up the bank of the pond by cabin 5. Chattering in the water behind him was a canoe full of excited teens he’d left in his wake. As the big beast disappeared into the woods, I decided he had the right idea. I carried the repacked cooler to the woman’s cabin, then ducked into Loon’s Nest to hang up my khaki shirt and green pants.

  When I walked over to Sentinel, I found Aida and Mara seated in the heavy log-legged chairs on the cabin’s back porch. My mother glanced at me and smiled before returning to the needlepoint in her lap while Aida read to her. Mara must have finished the geometric pattern I’d seen at Kim’s. This one was less than half done, but its patches of green and blue made me think it might be a landscape.

  Taking a seat on the porch steps, I looked across the pond while I tried to place the story Aida was reading. After a few more lines, I recognized it: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. Reading the Narnia books to us at bedtime had been one of my mother’s very first traditions at Kidney Pond.

  Aaron came by a few minutes later, and Aida put the book down to help with the picnic dinner Kim was setting up on one of the tables in the field. I followed my mother’s eyes to the pond and sat in silence with her for a while, watching its color bleed from blue to purple as the last of the sun’s rays began to fade.

  There are changes other than waning light that signal the end of a day, but it takes living in a wild place before most can read those signs. The trill of songbirds and chatter of red squirrels had stopped. None of the night singers—the owls, mockingbirds, whip-poor-wills, or the ever-present loons—had begun their chorus. The absence of those songs was matched by a pregnant stillness in the air. Twilight on a pond in the Maine woods is a sliver of uncertain time—a fragile moment that rests upon the thin edge between the surrender of hopes for one day and the dreams for the next.

  I picked up the book Aida had dropped and turned to the page she’d marked with a fan of pine needles. “Shall I keep reading?” I asked Mara. She kept her face turned to the water when she finally replied.

  “We’re almost at the end.”

  I started at the top of the page and read:

  And they themselves grew and changed as the years passed over them. And Peter became a tall and deep-chested man and a great warrior, and he was called King Peter the Magnificent. And Susan grew into a tall and gracious woman with black hair that fell almost to her feet and the kings of the countries beyond the sea began to send ambassadors asking for her hand in marriage. And she was called Susan the Gentle. Edmund was a graver and quieter man than Peter, and great in council and judgment. He was called King Edmund the Just. But as for Lucy, she was always gay and golden-haired, and all princes in those parts desired her to be their Queen, and her own people called her Queen Lucy the Valiant. So they lived in great joy and if ever they remembered their life in this world it was only as one remembers a dream.

  “Lucy’s like Jordan,” Mara said in a whisper, “valiant, but vulnerable too. But you’re my good shepherd, Norman,” she continued, her eyes still on the pond. “You’ll watch over her, you’ll watch over them all.”

  “I’m Paul, Mara.”

  The smile on my mother’s face froze, then fell. She turned to look at me, then picked up her needlepoint. In the failing light, I doubted she could see what she was doing, but I stayed silent.

  “I know who you are,” she snapped. “Please finish the book.”

  There were only a few more pages. I read them quietly, telling the story of the children’s return from a lifetime as kings and queens in a magical world to the very hour of the childhood they had left for it. I closed the book to the sound of a whip-poor-will call. When I rose from my chair, Mara was staring at the pond again. “Take care of your sister,” she said.

  I wondered which one she meant.

  15

  Doubletop

  I knew my mailman back in town better than I knew Robert Fell. The first time I met Kim’s husband was on a visit to Boston University during Kim’s junior year, just a few weeks after they’d begun dating. I spent the evening in a packed pub watching Kim moon over her new boyfriend, while he monopolized every single topic of conversation. By the end of the night, I knew that visit to BU would be my last. Robert took the spotlight again at Thanksgiving a year later, when he announced their engagement. My mother’s boyfriend, Campbell, had moved in by then. When he grabbed my mother’s hand and joked about a double wedding, I almost threw up into my mashed potatoes. By the time Kim’s wedding came, I knew how to handle Robert: let him crow about his new client, car, or boat, and get the hell away from him as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be so easy while I was trapped with him at Kidney Pond.

  “Paul, I love your office!”

  I forced a smile as I crossed the field to meet him early the next morning. He stood with his arms stretched wide, scanning the vista around the pond. He crushed my hand, then slammed the trunk on his lemon-yellow Porsche before clicking the keys to lock it with a beep. He wasn’t the first to do that, but I always found it funny. The last place a thief would think of casing was a pond tucked deep in the backcountry of Maine.

  “Let me help you with one of those,” I said, reaching for one of the two huge duffels in his hands.

  “I got ’em,” he answered, hoisting the pair onto his broad shoulders. He was tall, fit, good looking, and he definitely knew it. Even the new touch of gray at his temples added to the vigor he exuded. I could see how easy it must have been for a guy like Robert to sell insurance. He walked around like a man who had life by the tail. People on the other end of that beast probably thought they could tap into a bit of his mojo by buying one of the policies he hawked. I led him to Sentinel as he prattled on about the Porsche’s specs while I thanked God that the walk across the field to the cabin wasn’t that far.

  The kids were still asleep but not for long. Robert burst in singing a chorus of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning,” giving Aaron and Aida each a rough tickle in their bunks before moving on to the cabin’s back porch to greet Mara and Kim. The expressions I read on his kids’ faces told me they weren’t Oklahoma fans.

  It was a crystal-clear day, and though Robert had risen hours before dawn to make the drive up, he wanted to make the most of it. Over eggs and coffee, he floated the idea that Aida, Aaron, and I hike Katahdin with him while Kim kept Mara company at the pond. One look at the kids told me what they thought of the idea, but when they voiced their reservations, Dad steamrolled right over them.

  Aaron was the one I was really concerned about. The hike would take a big toll on his heavy body, and I doubted he had the muscular strength to pull himself around the huge boulders on the steep, exposed ridge that made up much of the trail.

  “You’re here for ten days,” I told Robert. “How about warming up on a smaller peak first?”

  He stopped chewing his breakfast and thought about it for a second. “But a day like this deserves something big!” he said through a mouthful of eggs.

  “Doubletop’s pretty big,” I countered. “It’s five or six hours on the trail, still a long day, but half the time we’d need for Katahdin. And
if we take a car up the tote road to start, we won’t have to retrace our steps; we can climb up one side and down the other to walk right back here to camp.”

  “What do you two think?” he asked, pointing his fork at Aida and Aaron.

  “I’d rather stay at the pond,” said Aida, not looking up from her plate.

  “Me too,” Aaron echoed.

  “Nope,” Robert said. He picked up his coffee mug, drained it, and set it down with a bang. “We could all use some exercise. Pick a mountain.”

  ***

  An hour later, the four of us climbed out of the Range Rover at Nesowadnehunk Field Campground. It felt good to get out of the car after listening to Robert drone on about the benefits of variable universal life insurance. By the time we parked at the trailhead, I had the distinct feeling he was sniffing out the possibility of pitching a policy to me and maybe a few other rangers as well.

  I shouldered my pack while Robert and the kids buckled on the tiny new fanny packs he’d bought them. “You look like you’re about to conquer Everest,” Robert said after I’d strapped in. I forced a smile and led them to the trailhead. Someone had to carry the extra food, water, and first aid needed for a day on a mountain. The single water bottle and energy bar he’d tucked into each of their packs wasn’t nearly enough to keep them going, but I’d resisted the urge to upstage Robert in front of his kids. He’d get the message about his lack of preparation as soon as the first water bottle ran dry. But what he said next made me realize I had no right to be smug about my planning.

  “Did you remember your inhaler, Aida-Patata?”

  Like all Baxter rangers, I’d had “Woofer” training as a Wilderness First Responder. But on that morning, I completely forgot about Aida’s medical condition. In my mind’s eye, I could see the face of my Woofer instructor frowning at my rookie mistake.

  “Uh, Mom told me to pack it, but I forgot.”

  “Aida,” Robert said patiently, “you’ve gotta do better than that.”

  She chewed on her lip, but Robert smiled.

  “Check your fanny pack,” he told her. She unzipped it and pulled out the small plastic-capped vial.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. She popped her headphones in before she could hear his next question.

  “You want to take point?”

  Aida frowned and pulled an earbud from one ear. “What?”

  “I said, do you want to take point?” Robert repeated. Aida just stared.

  “He means be the leader,” Aaron explained.

  “I don’t know the way,” she said.

  “Just look for the blue blazes on the trees,” I told her. “They’re pretty easy to spot.”

  “I’ll do it,” Aaron said.

  Aida popped her earbud back in and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

  I took up the rear, and we headed into the woods. Doubletop’s shorter distance wasn’t the only reason I’d pitched it for the hike. We had a couple of miles of fairly level ground to cover before we’d start climbing. Once we did, we’d be protected below tree line for almost the entire hike, popping out only to summit the mountain’s twin peaks before descending quickly into the woods on the other side. The forecast looked good, but I’d been surprised by afternoon thunderheads often enough to know that things could change quickly this time of year.

  After a few minutes of slow going, Robert spoke up. “C’mon buddy, pick up the pace.” Aaron responded by moving faster. A minute later, his toe caught a root, and he went down with a thud. “You all right?” asked his father, giving him a hand. The boy’s face was flushed. He took in a few big breaths while his father answered for him. “No broken bones; you’re all right.”

  We started again. Robert stayed on his son’s heels while Aida followed with her ears plugged and her eyes on the ground. After a few minutes, she stopped, popped her earbuds out, and slid her iPhone out of her pocket with a soft “shit.”

  “What’s up, Patata?” Robert asked.

  “My battery’s dead. And stop calling me that!”

  Robert looked past her to roll his eyes at me.

  We started again and caught up with Aaron quickly. Over the next few minutes, a bad pattern took shape on the trail. Robert seemed incapable of staying off Aaron’s heels, actually bumping into him more than once. Every time his father caught up to him, Aaron responded by putting on a burst of speed he couldn’t maintain. After a while, I heard the burble of a brook ahead. Aaron started moving quickly toward the sound. “That’s the way, buddy!” Robert called, urging the boy onward as Aaron tripped and lurched down the trail.

  Aaron sat down with a thud on the bank of the brook. He unzipped his fanny pack, took out his water bottle, and drained half of it before Robert grabbed it out of his hand. “You need to save some, buddy,” he told him, putting his hand out for the cap. Aaron held it out to him without looking up. When his father gave the capped bottle back, Aaron slipped it into his pack and took out the energy bar. As he began unwrapping it, Robert took that from his hand too. “See, right there, that’s your problem.” He dropped his voice low. “We talked about this, Aaron. We gotta get the weight off, remember? You’ll never be able to go out for sports if you don’t make the right decisions about how much you eat.”

  “I don’t like sports.”

  “Why don’t you leave him alone,” Aida said softly.

  “Aida, mind your own business!” Robert said sharply. Aida narrowed her eyes.

  “And don’t give me that look. That shit may work on your mother, but it’ll get you nowhere with me.” Robert gave me a glance and a sheepish smile. “Okay,” he said, unzipping his own fanny pack to take out his water bottle. “Let’s all take a break. Paul, how far have we come, anyway?”

  “A bit over a mile.”

  “And how many to go?”

  “Seven.”

  ***

  The next mile didn’t go any better. Aida took point, and the gap between the kids widened quickly.

  “If you want to catch up to Aida, I’m happy to hang with Aaron,” I told Robert.

  “Nope,” Robert replied. “We men gotta stick together, right, buddy?” When he clapped Aaron on the shoulder, the boy almost took another dive.

  Now there was a new beat added to the staccato rhythm of our hike. Every minute or two, Robert would let out a shout: “Aida—wait up!” Then we’d make our way to find her standing in the trail, her back turned toward us. As soon as we reached her, she’d be off again.

  When the trail began to rise through a series of switchbacks, Aaron slowed even further, breathing hard enough for me to hear him clearly from my place at the back of our small pack. We reached the next hairpin turn, and he sat down hard with a grunt in the middle of the trail. “I don’t think . . .” he said between ragged breaths, “. . . I can make it.”

  “And that’s exactly why you can’t, buddy.” Robert stood up and yelled, “Aida!” When he got no response, he took a few more steps and yelled louder. A minute later she appeared at the next turn in the trail. Her frown deepened when she saw her brother. Aaron’s head was tipped back and his eyes were closed, his face beaded with sweat. Robert took a knee next to his son and spoke softly to him. “C’mon, Aaron. I know you can do this. You don’t want people to think you can’t keep up with your sister.”

  “Robert,” I said finally, “I think Aaron’s had enough.”

  Robert got up slowly. He took a step toward me before he replied. He kept his voice low, but not low enough to keep his kids from hearing. “You may know the woods, Paul,” he told me, “but I know my son. If you’d spent a little more time with your family, maybe you would too. I’ll thank you for keeping your opinion about what’s best for him to yourself.”

  “Dad,” Aida began, “he was only—”

  Robert spun on her. “Goddamn it, Aida, I wasn’t talking to you! And if you take off one more time, you’ll spend the rest of the day behind all of us. This family sticks together!”

  Aida’s eyes blazed. “Oh i
s that what we do, Dad, we stick together? Because you sure haven’t been sticking around with the rest of us much lately.”

  “You spoiled little brat. When I’m away it’s because I’m working my ass off, every single day, for all of you!”

  “Yeah,” Aida replied, “and what about your nights?”

  Robert’s brow furrowed and his mouth dropped open. It hung there for a second before he responded. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

  Aida held his gaze for a moment. Then she was gone.

  16

  Peak Secrets

  I’d had it with pussyfooting around Robert’s feelings. “Aaron’s done,” I told him. “Take him back to the Range Rover and wait there for an hour. If Aida and I aren’t there by then, drive back to camp and we’ll meet you there.” I could see him trying to work out a reply, but I turned and ran up the trail before it came.

  I was in shape. I’d been on my feet all summer keeping the campground in order, and when I wasn’t on duty, I was usually hiking deeper into the park to reach the ponds and streams that few people ever fished. But all things being equal, chronology will trump conditioning every time. I was a forty-two-year-old man chasing an angry sixteen-year-old girl up a mountain. And she had a head start.

  I scrambled up a jumbled boulder staircase and ducked beneath a blowdown, wondering the whole time if I’d ever catch Aida. Hiking a level trail is one thing; running up a mountain is another. Doubletop may have started out as a pleasant walk in the woods, but Aida had picked the steeply ascending slope of the peak for her disappearing act. The soft dirt trail we’d hiked in on grew steeper and rockier with every step I took. I kept my eyes trained on the ground, holding my breath as I planted the balls of my feet on any stick, stone, or patch of scree that I thought would hold me for the split second it took to launch my next step.