by Jay Cassell
“She turned those green eyes on me again and I thought my legs would give out. You know, we have a pair of ligaments behind our knees that respond to emotion—fear, panic, relief, any really powerful feeling. Right then, mine were twanging and jittering like guitar strings. She said, ‘I hate to break up such a lovely picture, but she’s just a youngster and probably won’t hold that point much longer.’
“She might as well have spoken in some ancient tongue for all I could do to reply anything but ‘Awp.’
“She walked past Jericho and up to the little setter. A woodcock twittered up from behind the alders, and she took one step to the side, swung her gun, and dropped it neatly.
“ ‘Fetch, Nellie,’ she said. Nellie darted out and started nosing after the bird. Jericho trotted along behind her, and I sat down on a log to see if I could get my kneejoints reconnected to my brain.
“By the time Nellie fetched the woodcock and her mistress had it stowed in her vest, I was more or less in control of most of my senses—at least enough to have a look at the rest of this enchanting woman. In those benighted days, every female younger than your grandmother was universally referred to as a ‘girl.’ This one was young, but she was no girl. She was tall and slender, and neither the fawn-colored shirt nor the brush pants nor the canvas vest obscured the fact of a decidedly womanly body underneath. She was carrying a 20-gauge Fox gun, wearing Bean boots and a tweed hat, and I was losing my mind.
“She walked over to me, peeling off her glove, held out her hand and said, ‘I’m Caroline Fitzgerald.’ So much for Dierdre. I took her hand and said what I thought was my name, adding, ‘We’ve never met.’ I’d been away a few years, but I’d never forget a stunner like her.
“If she was impressed by my grasp of the obvious, she didn’t say so. Instead, she laughed, a musical sound that made my blood hiss and tingle. ‘I live in St. Paul,’ she said. ‘We’re here for the fall.’
“I had no idea whether ‘we’ meant a husband, a family, or the Marine Corps Band, and she was still wearing a glove on her left hand. So, with all the subtlety I could muster, I gave her another of my now-patentable stupid grins and said, ‘We?’
“ ‘My parents and I. My father bought this land a few years ago, as a summer place.’ She breathed another throaty laugh. ‘He thinks it’s only a mite less remote than the Arctic Circle. I think it’s lovely.’
“I stopped myself from saying something irretrievably dopey and said something only moderately dopey instead. What, I don’t remember. I do remember stammering an apology for trespassing and received a charming assurance that I wasn’t likely to be jailed for it. Jericho, who was old enough to stick around when I wasn’t moving, had lain down to wait. Nellie, from the sound of her bell, was somewhere upstream, no doubt searching for more woodcock. Caroline asked if I’d care to join her.
“In those days, woodcock were not my favorite sport. I was a grouse hunter, dyedin-the-wool. But if Caroline Fitzgerald had invited me to shoot grasshoppers or aspen leaves, I’d have accepted happily.
“Much of that afternoon is a blur to me now. It was a blur to me then, actually, except for Caroline. I couldn’t take my eyes off her—which made the hunting sort of a rough go. It’s a wonder I didn’t break my fool neck. At least she had the good grace not to laugh out loud.
“That alder run was stiff with woodcock, and before long I began to see that Caroline Fitzgerald was remarkable for more than just her incredible eyes. It’s rare enough to come across a woman who hunts and rarer still to find one who hunts as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Most of them either act as if they’d really rather be doing something else, or they go about it with a kind of bloodthirsty aggressiveness that isn’t becoming even to a man.
“But not Caroline. She was neither clumsy nor hesitant nor one of the guys. She was just a woman who clearly enjoyed what she was doing.
“She had a sure, gentle touch with her dog, which, she told me, technically was her father’s, though she and Nellie had sort of adopted one another as favorite companions. She was a good shot, not spectacular, but good, and she handled her little Fox with the same natural grace that she did everything else.
“Once, I flushed a ‘cock that flew straight toward her and dropped down right at her feet. When it flushed again a few moments later, she let it go without firing, though I knew she had an open shot. She told me later that when it realized she was standing there almost at arm’s length, it fanned its tail and strutted like a little turkey cock before quitting the scene. ‘Any bird with that kind of audacity deserves a break,’ she said.
“It’s the sort of thing that only another bird hunter understands, and it raised Caroline Fitzgerald another notch or two in my estimation—if that was possible.
“She filled her limit about three o’clock. I had two or three, and I was so befuddled by her that I wasn’t shooting well at all, so I didn’t mind quitting. We found a sunny log and sat talking while the dogs dozed. We told each other the sort of life-history things that people exchange at such times, though I’m afraid I did most of the talking. She had a fine way of putting you at ease.
“Finally, she thanked me for a pleasant afternoon and said that perhaps we’d meet again. I was prepared to do almost anything to make sure that happened, so I asked if she’d care to join me in a couple of coverts I knew. She said yes, and after arranging to meet at her father’s house the following day, she gave me one last smile, whistled for Nellie, and struck off into the woods.
“Jericho and I turned back the way we’d come. Before we got to the car, we moved at least four more grouse, two of which were such wide-open shots that Jericho got miffed with me when I blew them both. Actually, I don’t even remember pulling the triggers, and I wouldn’t have bet a brass nickel on being able to hit the ground with my hat. All I could see were Caroline Fitzgerald’s eyes.
“Next morning, I found the house where the elder Fitzgerald evidently intended to spend his golden years—a newly built log edifice only a bit smaller than the Minnesota Supreme Court building. Caroline’s father was a railroad man with a taste for sport and more than enough ready cash to satisfy any urges he might have. He was tending to some business in Duluth that day, but I met Caroline’s mother, a charming lady who owned somewhat less intense versions of Caroline’s green eyes, and spent a few minutes marveling at the gymnasium-sized living room, all built of native timber and stone. The place still stands, by the way, though it’s a resort now.
“I’d spent much of the previous night trying to collect myself into a state that might be a bit more poised than the uproar I’d felt the day before. Naturally, I got things off to a fine start by trying to drive off in high gear instead of low, but if she saw anything unusual about lurching and chugging down the lane, she didn’t mention it. I finally got the transmission and my blood pressure under control, and we set out in earnest, Jericho and Nellie perched in the back seat like a couple of shaggy chaperones, Caroline relaxed and chatty beside me.
“She was wearing a plaid shirt that was mostly green and dark red, and the colors made her eyes fairly glow. She’d gathered her hair into a braid and pinned it up at the back; uncovered by her hat, it showed auburn highlights in the sun. It’s a good thing there isn’t much traffic on the back roads hereabouts, because it was all I could do to keep the car between the ditches. She seemed to have no notion at all of how extraordinarily beautiful she was. But then, I was aware of that enough for both of us.
“In the first covert, Jericho nailed a grouse not ten minutes from the car. I offered Caroline the flush, but she declined, saying that such a good omen deserved a better shot than she. Considering my track record since meeting her, I was not inclined to consider myself a candidate. Jericho probably would have laughed out loud if he hadn’t been busy at the moment. Still, the red gods are not without a sense of pity, it seemed. I killed the bird stone dead with the first barrel.
“And that seemed to break the jinx. I didn’t lose any app
reciation for the way Caroline looked or sounded or moved, but I suddenly found myself able to function like a relatively normal adult.
“I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed hunting more. Once we got into the alder bottoms, we found woodcock everywhere. Something magical seemed to happen. I never was the sort of crash-ahead type who hunts as if he’s going for a record in the obstacle course, but I’ve always liked to get right into the thick of things for grouse—still do, as you know. It’s still the most satisfying way to hunt grouse, but that day I truly discovered woodcock.
“I discovered a degree of finesse and elegance and grace that simply isn’t available from any other bird. I’d always thought of woodcock as rather bumbling, hapless little things that never seemed quite connected with a hunter. Go after a smart old grouse and you immediately strike up a relationship with it—the two of you start acting and reacting to one another as if you’re the only living things on earth.
“The same thing happens with woodcock but in different ways, more subtle. Woodcock touch a gentler emotion, one that runs just as deep as any other but vibrates with a softer resonance. A grouse can be anything from a saxophone to a bugle. A woodcock is always a cello.
“Next time you’re dressing birds in a mixed bag, notice that a woodcock’s heart is almost as big as a grouse’s, even though its body is far smaller. That ought to tell you something. I didn’t think of all these lofty metaphors that morning, of course, but I certainly felt them. As I said, it was magical.
“Even the dogs seemed to feel it. Some of Nellie’s sweet nature rubbed off on Jericho, and he comported himself in a more gentlemanly way than usual. At one point, Caroline asked me to help refine Nellie’s back-pointing work, which already was better than you’d expect of a dog her age. She’d had some early training from a professional, but Caroline told me she wanted to do the finishing herself.
“ ‘Did you train Jericho?’ she asked. ‘He’s a fine hunter.’
“ ‘I did, but most of what he knows has come from experience. I’ve always liked working with dogs but I’m no professional.’
“ ‘Experience has its lessons,’ she said. ‘And we learn them if we’re lucky.’ She looked at me with suddenly serious eyes. ‘You’re a lucky man, Tom, to be here where you really want to be and to do what pleases you. That may be worth more than you imagine.’
“There was a strangely hard edge to her voice, and it set me back. Before I could say anything, she turned away and started off after the sound of the dog bells.
“What she’d said kept running through my mind. I’d never thought of myself as lucky or unlucky, certainly not in coming back to Tamarack. That was a decision that had nothing to do with luck, so far as I could see. It was simply a choice between being a big-city attorney or a country lawyer. It seemed perfectly clear-cut to me, but my word, there’s nothing like the certainty of youth. Only later did I realize she was right.
“Caroline seemed quieter, more thoughtful. We hunted on, circling back to the car, not saying much. She’d made a lunch for us, and I’d already picked the place where I wanted to go. The old Petersen place was my favorite even then, and I wanted Caroline to see it.
“You know how the Petersen looks on a fine October day. It didn’t look much different then. The old house hadn’t been deserted as long and naturally wasn’t as weathered as it is now, and the timber on the far hill was younger and thicker. But the meadow and the stream and the beaver pond and the pine grove by the house were all there. It seemed fitting to take the most beautiful woman I’d ever met to the most beautiful place I knew.
“We unpacked the lunch basket under a big Norway pine at the end of the grove and sat where we could look down the meadow toward the stream and the woods beyond. The meadow was rank with grass still summer-green, rippling in the breeze. I don’t recall what we ate—pine cones and thornapple twigs, for all I knew, or cared. To be there was as complete a measure of contentment as I could imagine. She was still subdued, but that’s what the Petersen place does to you anyway. I figured she’d say what was on her mind when she felt like it.
“I turned back from looking to see where the dogs were and found her staring at me, solemn as a judge.
“ ‘Tom,’ she said, ‘there’s something I want you to know about me. We don’t know each other, really, but I think you’ll understand what I have to say. I’ve never said it to anyone. It’s only now, in fact, that I’m able to explain it to myself. I’m engaged to be married.’
“Well. There it was. No great surprise, I suppose, but I felt as if I’d swallowed a chunk of ice the size of my fist. At that moment, I couldn’t have said a word if you’d held a gun to my head.
“ ‘I am betrothed to a pleasant young man with a good future,’ she went on after a moment. ‘The right pedigree, old St. Paul family—well-connected, I believe the phrase is. We’ve known each other for years, the same social circles, you know.’ She enunciated the words carefully, ironically. She looked out over the meadow and turned her eyes back to me.
“ ‘He’s a decent fellow and I do care for him. Which will make it all the more difficult to tell him that I’m not going to marry him.’
“I realized I was holding my breath and let it out.
“ ‘You have no idea what it’s like to be a woman.’ She had me there. I shook my head. ‘In some ways, it’s not much different from being a dog, except a dog doesn’t know it’s a piece of property to be bought, bartered, or given away. Most women don’t, either, or aren’t willing to admit it.’ She smiled a sweet, sad smile. ‘This doesn’t make much sense, does it?’ I shook my head again.
“ ‘Tom, I’m engaged to be married because that’s what I’m supposed to do. At a certain point, everyone assumed Charles—that’s his name—would ask me to marry him: our friends, his parents, my parents, Charles, even I. And of course if he asked, I’d accept. Well, he did, and I did, and everyone was pleased, and there were engagement parties and announcements and everything that’s part of the process of transferring ownership of a woman from one man to another. I don’t suppose you studied that sort of thing in law school, but it’s all quite a standard process. That was ten months ago. The wedding is to be three days after Christmas. But it isn’t going to be.’
“She picked up an apple and turned it over and over in her hands. ‘Why not?’ I asked.
“ ‘I don’t remember exactly when I realized that I’d made all sorts of decisions without making any choices. Perhaps it was when I really began to see what was in store for me. I began to see that I was about to take up my mother’s life and her mother’s life and the lives of all the married women I know. My father, obviously, is quite wealthy; so are all his friends, and so are all my friends. The men spend their lives getting richer. The women are sedate and cultured, managing households and the upbringing of children, taking a genteel interest in the arts and in such worthy causes as don’t threaten the world they live in.’
“She stopped for a moment, her eyes glistening. ‘The more I thought about it, the worse it made me feel—unhappy and frightened and angry. I don’t want to be some pampered pet on a velvet rope, living a serene and useless life.
“ ‘Spending the fall here was my idea. I could’ve stayed in St. Paul. But I insisted on coming, to get away and think. A week after we got here I took off the ring Charles gave me. I told my mother it was because I didn’t want to lose it outdoors. Tonight, I’ll tell her the real reason. They’ll both be quite upset, partly because they truly want me to be happy, but partly, too, because it’s going to be very awkward for them to have a daughter who’d do such a scandalous thing as break an engagement. It’s going to ruin their round of holiday parties this year. But that will have to be as it will be.’
“She shot me a suddenly mischievous look and said, ‘Part of this is your doing, you know.’ I started to apologize, but she stopped me. ‘Not what you think. Don’t you see, Tom? You did what I want so much to do. You set your life on a course of your own choosin
g. You followed your heart instead of surrendering to a life that would, in time, give you everything you wanted except happiness. And your heart led you back here. And you know, you were right.’
“I said, ‘Caroline, everything you say is true. I can’t pretend that I really know how you feel about … all this. You said so yourself: I have no idea what it’s like to be a woman. In fact, I never even thought of it until now. But I do know what it is to give up the certainty of comfort for the hope of being truly happy. It was the right choice for me, and I wish no less for you.’
“She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, said ‘Thank you,’ and started gathering up the remains of our lunch. ‘Show me the rest of this beautiful place. I need to stretch my legs.’
“At the moment, I felt a need to stretch my head. My mind was fairly tumbling with all she’d said, things as alien to my experience as the far side of China, yet things so clearly real that it was impossible not to recognize them.
“Guessing that she’d like some time to herself, I suggested we split up to hunt the stream coverts. I’d cross over above the beaver pond and take the far side, and she could go through the alders below the house. We’d meet below the beaver dam where it’s easy to cross the stream and then go back through the woods together. She agreed. We put the lunch basket in the car and set off.
“The rain had sent the creek running full, and I had to go way upstream to find a crossing. Once over, I ambled along, not really hunting, my mind too full of Caroline to pay much attention. I walked right up on Jericho on point and flushed the bird before I even knew he was there. He gave me a disgusted look and went on downstream. I heard one shot from Caroline’s direction and figured she’d found a bird.
“I was about a hundred yards above the beaver dam when I heard a dog start shrieking. It was coming from about where Caroline should have been by then, and the first thing I thought was that Nellie had run into a porcupine. I beat through the brush as fast as I could, thinking to wade the stream below the dam, cursing porcupines and bad luck in general. When I got free of the brush at the end of the dam, what I saw stopped me cold.