“Well?” she prodded.
“Deal.” His face broke into a huge smile, bigger even than the ones she’d seen at the climbers’ campfire.
Yesterday at the campfire she’d wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of one of his rare smiles, and now she knew. It was like being in the beam of a flashlight on a dark night. A beam that was as warm as it was bright. And a beam that made her want to shine right back.
Chapter Nine
An elderly woman with beautiful silver hair in a tight French twist breezed through the doors of the Ahwahnee Hotel. April knew instantly it was Vera. With her floor-length khaki cargo skirt, crisp white safari shirt, and hiking boots disguised as Mary Janes, she could be the cover model for an affluent senior citizen camping magazine. Even the scarf around her neck was a designer version of a red bandanna.
Vera air-kissed April twice. She was in the park for some HSSR business and had asked Danny to have April meet her here for midmorning tea. The maître d’ ushered them to their table in the dining room, where a soaring wood ceiling met cathedral windows that gave a spectacular view of Half Dome.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here,” Vera said. “I used to come four times a year when Vic was still with us. There’s just something about this place that makes me feel so alive. Tell me everything that’s going on.”
“Gabby and I reserved four rooms at the hotel,” April started.
“Oh, that! I’m sure you two have everything handled. I want to know about camping,” Vera said. “And the film. How is the film going?”
“Good so far,” April said. She didn’t know how much Vera knew, specifically about the battery debacle on Flying Sheep earlier in the week, so she stuck to something safe. “The guys will be filming Josh on Code for Verity in a few days.”
Vera sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to be back in the city so soon, otherwise I would stay and watch.”
“I can send you some of the footage.”
“Yes, please do!”
Vera’s phone rang. She silenced it without looking at the caller ID. “I hope Danny doesn’t feel like I’m getting in his way, but I like to be involved. This is a very personal project for me.”
“Of course,” April said.
Vera told her all about what she’d been doing with HSSR on this trip and some of her plans for a temporary funding bill.
“Not many people know this, but Vic’s paralysis wasn’t caused by the accident,” Vera said. “It was caused by the rescue. Or lack thereof. That’s the reason I’m so vested in HSSR.”
A waiter delivered a tea set and a three-tiered platter of pound cake, scones, and crustless sandwiches. He lowered a basket of loose tea into the teapot to steep.
“HSSR was just a rudimentary first-aid crew back then. It was for tourists—lost children, scraped knees, that sort of thing. Vic had broken a vertebra in his upper back. With proper care, he could have fully recovered, but the crew didn’t have the training or equipment to keep a spine immobilized during an advanced rescue.”
“I’m so sorry,” April said.
Vera waved her hand. “Vic never dwelled on it, and neither do I. What’s important is that we keep HSSR funded. Much of their rescue crew is volunteer, but the operations and training and equipment are very expensive.”
The timer next to the teapot went off, and Vera pulled the tea leaves out. She poured cups for them both.
“I have to be honest,” Vera continued, “I was a little concerned when Danny told me he had picked a young lady for the internship—not that I think a woman couldn’t do it. It’s just that Walkabout doesn’t have any full-time female employees except Danny’s wife, and she’s up in Seattle with their kids. The living conditions are rough, and the job is demanding. How are you holding up?”
“I’m getting used to it,” April said. “My adviser’s worked on films like this before, and he recommended some specialized workouts last quarter.”
“Like what?”
“Walking stairs with a weighted backpack. Some upper-body work. Trail running. That sort of thing.”
“Good. Then, are you liking it here?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah. It’s great!”
Vera beamed.
Living outside in a campground was certainly an adjustment, but now that sleeping was less of a problem and she’d gotten that fantastic footage of Josh at the lake, April was really starting to love it here. Madigan was a good friend, Theo was like a pesky older brother, and Danny was a good mentor. Every day she was learning so much.
“I camped here with Vic and his friends for most of the summer one year,” Vera said. “Best summer of my life. Rock climbers are awfully handsome, you know.”
April pictured Josh à la Vertical View magazine’s hunky Redpoint spread. She’d thought about him a lot since the Flying Sheep climb, but she hadn’t crossed paths with him except at Walkabout dinners, which he had started attending regularly. Even at dinner, though, she didn’t interact with him much because he sat at one end of the table while she sat at the other, in her regular place, across from Madigan.
“Yosemite was so different back then,” Vera said. “There weren’t as many rules, you know. The sport of climbing was just getting started, and this was the epicenter of it all. It was a bunch of Beats, mostly. Dirty, fearless, authority-hating young men. Imagine Haight-Ashbury right there in your campground.”
Vera looked out the window to Half Dome. “I wanted to stay on in the fall and learn to climb, but my parents wouldn’t allow it.” She turned back to April. “But just think, if I hadn’t gone back to college, I would have never met Bill.”
She must be talking about her husband, William Smithleigh III. The grandson of the founder of the Smithleigh Company. April knew he had been dead a long time, and they had never had any children. Now with Vic gone, she wondered if Vera was lonely despite all her philanthropies.
April refilled their cups of tea. “How did you pick Walkabout for this project?”
“Vic used to watch Danny’s reality series about surfing. He always said surfing and climbing were a lot alike, and he thought Danny had really captured the essence of it.”
Vera plucked the last scone off the tray. “There are production companies out there that do nothing but rock-climbing movies, but I wanted a company that could capture the full experience of it. Not all of us can rock climb, but we can be inspired by how climbers live and what they see when they are up there on the walls. For climbers, life is simple but amplified.”
April recalled the shock of the cold water as she fell through the depths of Flying Sheep Lake. After, she’d felt clean and refreshed in a way no shower could ever match. Simple but amplified. A perfect description.
She and Vera spent more time talking about Yosemite, and before she knew it, the dining room was filling up with the lunch crowd. A busser came to clear the tea service. Vera tucked a single bill under the flower vase, and she and April walked to the lobby.
“April, before you go,” Vera said, “I just want to say how sorry I am about your father.”
April froze. Fiery white pinpricks bounced through her vision.
“I knew him back in the nineties,” Vera said. “I was on San Francisco’s Fleet Week board, and he flew our air show every year. He was such a gregarious person. The life of the party, no doubt about it. And your mother. So demure and elegant.”
Hot tears flowed down April’s cheeks despite her attempt to hold them at bay. She couldn’t believe this was happening in public and in front of the Smithleigh heiress, nonetheless.
Vera squeezed her shoulder. “I know it must still be hard, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just such a tragedy what happened.”
It was kind of Vera to use the word “tragedy” when the International Association of Professional Aerobatics investigation had faulted her father for the crash.
The maître d’ handed April a thick paper napkin. She quickly blotted the tears off her cheeks. So
much for her fresh start in Yosemite. Did Danny know? What if he had only hired her because Vera pitied her?
“How’d you know he was my dad?” April asked.
“I remembered the news articles saying Mitch had a nineteen-year-old daughter. I put two and two together when Danny told me the name of the intern he’d picked and that you were from Arizona.”
Variations of “Stephens is survived by his wife of twenty-five years and his daughter, April, nineteen” appeared in every news article for months. Less tactful newspapers used their full names and pointed out that she and her mom were in the audience to witness the crash. The least tactful papers attempted interviews while April was still hospitalized for smoke inhalation.
Her head felt hollow and like it was strung with cobwebs. She gave a nod to Vera that would have to do as a good-bye. She turned toward the doors and smacked straight into Josh Knox.
As in, literally smacked. Her cheek directly into his solid chest, which smelled like fabric softener. She stumbled back. What was he doing at the Ahwahnee?
“Hi, Joshua,” Vera said, bear-hugging him long and hard. Strangely, he seemed okay with it.
“I’m going to go freshen up in my room,” Vera said. “I’ll be right back down.” She turned to April and squeezed her hands. “This morning was a pleasure. I’ll see you at dinner tonight. I hear you guys are having hamburgers.”
April’s vision was spinning. Vera was coming to dinner at the campsite? Danny hadn’t mentioned that. She walked toward the doors, almost plowing into Josh a second time. She noted concern on his face when he looked at her, but she was numb to the embarrassment she would have normally felt about it.
Outside, she went directly to her bike, but her hands were shaking too much to line up the numbers on the lock. She sat on a bench to calm down.
At the Saguaro Butte Airfest in New Mexico, her father had done a tail slide into a dangerous new snap roll sequence. After the investigation, the association had faulted him for two intentional breaches of the code of ethics: the first was for his careless and reckless operation of an aircraft, since he had not sufficiently perfected the sequence before performance, and the second was due to evidence that he had knowingly flown with oil pooled in the engine cowl. Those breaches ignited a lawsuit, which, for almost a year, turned the crash into a national controversy on air show audience safety.
Why, Dad? You had a wife and a daughter.
It was degrading to know that Vera had been following all of that. At least the guys didn’t seem to know about it, otherwise they would have said something by now. They might remember the crash being in the news, but they weren’t pilots or aerobatics aficionados, so their attention to the subject would have been limited.
The fact that she cared if the guys knew made her feel sneaky and dishonest, like the crash was a dirty family secret. It wasn’t a secret at all—thanks to the media coverage. She just didn’t want to have to answer any questions about it. She didn’t want to talk about it, ever. And she certainly didn’t want to be ambushed by someone bringing it up unexpectedly. Like today.
She checked the time on her cell phone and noticed she had full reception, which was rare in the park. Although she didn’t feel like talking, she owed her mom a call.
“Hi, April,” her mom said. “I’m on shift right now, but I’ll be done with rounds in five. I’ll call you right back.”
Working at a mental hospital was a grueling job for a young person, let alone for someone like her mother, who was practically at retirement age and hadn’t worked in the field for decades. Trying to fight the lawsuit had taken all of her savings and the equity on the house, and she needed income badly.
April attempted her bike lock again and this time was able to undo it. Josh walked out of the Ahwahnee as she was wrapping the lock around the handlebars. He was wearing a nice shirt—one that would have been perfect for interviews—and his pants were wrinkle-free. Only the sporty sunglasses pushed up on his head and the water sandals on his bare feet gave him away as someone other than a tourist on a day trip to Yosemite.
She wanted to talk to him but was too afraid. Those moments lying on the moss at Flying Sheep Lake had become sacred to her. Never in her life had she felt so at peace, and he had been part of that experience. He’d been a different person then, and for him to return to being the gruff and dismissive talent around her would break the spell of the lake and that perfect, magical place.
She hurried to pull her bike off the rack and escape around the side of the lodge before he saw her.
Too late. He was walking her way.
He stopped in front of her, real and mirage-like at the same time. Her heartbeats quickened.
Her phone rang. “Sorry, I’ve gotta take this.” She put the phone to her ear and shouldered away from him.
“Hi, Mom,” she said. “All done with rounds?”
“For now,” her mom said. “It’s been one of those days. What’s going on?”
Josh walked back to lodge and leaned against a pillar, watching tourist kids play on the lawn. He didn’t seem at all sullen or feisty. In fact, he couldn’t be Awful Josh, because Awful Josh would never have approached her to begin with.
“…it looks pretty dangerous,” her mom was saying. “How are you feeling about that?”
“What?”
“Rock climbing. The things I saw online, anyway.”
“Oh. Don’t worry. I’m not filming any of the climbing.”
April looked at Josh. Why had he come over to her? Maybe he actually wanted to talk. Like a normal person. The thought made her warm.
“That’s good,” her mom said. “Just be aware that even things that seem dissimilar could evoke the same emotional reaction, and that could cause your PTSD—”
“First, I don’t have PTSD, and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. I can’t run from everything forever.”
“No, but you can make sure you’re ready before you attempt certain things.”
“Remind me not to call you at work. You’re in full psychologist mode right now.”
“Because I know you don’t have your psychologist there in Yosemite.”
Good thing her mom didn’t know she had quit therapy not long after she started. The sessions weren’t productive, and she needed to save money. “Once I get a job, I have to be able to film whatever I’m assigned,” she said. “I think it’s good for me to be around this.”
“Yes, but it might be too early. You haven’t flown since it happened.”
“I had to fly to get here, and I did just fine.”
“You know what I mean. The last time you took one of our planes up was when Sophie came out to visit. That was Christmas your sophomore year.”
“I will probably never pilot again,” April said. “Don’t you think that would be understandable?”
“It would, depending on what was motivating you to make that choice.”
“Ugh, Mom, I really don’t want to get into this right now.” Not only that, now that she knew Josh was being normal, she really wanted to go say hi before Vera came down.
She looked over at him, dismayed to see she’d already missed her chance. Vera was there, her red bandanna tied around her hair like a kerchief. She and Josh walked toward the valet stand.
“I have your box all ready to go for the gala,” her mom said. “I packed some nicer clothes and shoes for the rest of the weekend, too.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“The makeup that I put in there is my hypoallergenic stuff, so there shouldn’t be any scent.”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t seen any bears yet,” April said.
The valet pulled a vintage convertible to the curb just as Vera and Josh reached the stand. Vera got in and the top slid off. Josh said something to Vera, and she laughed and got out of the car. He took the driver’s seat.
April kicked herself for not talking to him when she had the chance. She didn’t know when she would see him again outside of dinners. Probably not until the
next interview, and that was guaranteed to break the spell of the lake.
A shrill alarm went off on her mother’s end of phone. “It’s probably just a drill, but I’ve got to go. Sorry, honey!”
The phone went dead. April turned it off and put it in her pocket. Over at the convertible, Vera was digging for something in her purse.
There was nothing left to do but go back to the campground. April wheeled her bike toward the road. She glanced over her shoulder at Josh, who was fiddling with the radio. Vera was opening a sunglass case, which was empty. She got out of the car and hurried toward the lodge.
Before she could change her mind, April straddled her bike and coasted the short distance to the convertible. Just pretend that he’s Madigan. The worst thing that could happen is that he’ll blow you off.
In which case she would be devastated.
“Nice car,” April said.
Josh looked up with surprise. His face tensed, then softened. “I know. Sure beats a truck-house.”
“I didn’t realize you were buddies with Vera McWilliams-Smithleigh.”
“I knew Vic. He did the first ascent of the Sorcerer.”
“I thought that was you.”
“No, I was just the first to free it. Vic climbed it in the sixties using pitons and some other sketchy homemade gear. It was very dangerous.”
He clicked the engine off and rested his elbow on the car door.
“Where are you two headed?” April asked.
“Out to the HSSR command center for a tour. Vera’s hoping they’ll take us up in the helicopter. I’m hoping they won’t.”
“You don’t like flying?”
He shook his head. April laughed aloud.
“What?” Josh asked. His face was flushed and adorable.
“You, afraid of flying?”
“I’m not afraid. But I only do it when I have to.”
Vera returned to her car, and April said good-bye. She took her time riding back, drinking in the beauty of the valley as a warm, gentle wind flowed through her hair. Wildflowers were blooming in the meadows and the Yosemite River was running full and smooth. The bike path dipped onto a gentle downslope and she coasted over it light and free, still deeply happy that her encounter with Josh today had been positive. Perhaps it meant Normal Josh was here to stay? They were too different to ever be actual friends, but there was no reason they couldn’t be friendly like this more often.
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