The Way of Women

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Well, look at you.” The smile in Jenn’s voice broke across her face as she spied the newcomer. The raccoon tried to slip a hand into Harry’s glass but dodged when the man pushed him away. Harry reached in his breast pocket before the raccoon could and handed Jenn a peanut.

  “Here. Give the old fool this, and he’ll be your friend for all time.”

  Jenn held the peanut out on the flat of her palm. The raccoon snatched it with one black paw. Black eyes sparkled in the light as he held it daintily with both front paws, chewed the shell open, and picked the nut meat out. Jenn dug in her pack for her strobe, attached it to her camera, and snapped off the lens cap. “Give him another peanut,” she ordered and focused.

  The raccoon ambled toward her, sniffing cautiously at the strange contraption. When a peanut materialized in front of his nose, he sat back on his haunches and proceeded to dine. The first flash sent him scurrying for cover, but another peanut turned him back around. The best shot was of the tubby bandit dunking a peanut in one of the glasses.

  Watching the photographer in action, Frank searched for traces of the little girl he once knew in the professional before him. She was quick, her motions smooth and yet unhurried. She muttered to her subject more in the way of encouragement, as if the animal could understand every suggestion she made.

  “More peanuts!” The snap in her soft tone was a definite command. “Now, back away.” The two men did as ordered. The raccoon lapped it all up—the liquor, the peanuts, and the attention.

  Jenn swiped an errant strand of aged honey hair back from her cheek as she dropped the camera back around her neck and dug the lens cover out of her shirt pocket. She laughed, pointing to her waddling subject. “He beats most of the models I’ve worked with lately. Can’t say much for the lighting, but, Harry, you’re a great assistant. Bet he’ll sleep for a week after all that.” She scratched the animal behind its ears and stroked down the silky back. “No wonder they used to make coats out of your cousins.” She continued stroking. The raccoon rolled over for her to scratch his tummy. His soft purring encouraged her to keep it up.

  “What a sweetheart.” She laughed, suddenly conscious that she’d gone off into her own world. She started to pick up her drink but remembered whose hands had been in it last. Besides, it was empty. She paused. Her ear tuned to an inner voice as her eyes sought Frank’s. A miniature freshet of joy trickled from around her icy interior, like snowmelt in the first rays of spring sun.

  Frank’s hard stare was like looking into reflective sunglasses. He raised his drink, as in a toast, and tossed it back with one swallow.

  Frozen again, Jenn turned. “Make it a stiff one, Harry.” When she failed to rub his belly anymore, the raccoon sniffed at the other glasses and then ambled off into the darkness.

  “He’ll sleep good now,” Harry broke the painful silence. “At least till I feed the cats.”

  Frank turned back to the bar, his elbows resting on the worn surface. He poured a straight shot and swallowed appreciatively, nodding at Harry. “That was a great show, old man. Now, when are you coming out?”

  Muttering his usual, Harry bristled like one of the old cats in a squall. “You know better’n that, Frank. I said I was staying here, and I meant every word of it. If I leave here and that mountain takes my home, I’ll just die anyway, so I’m staying.” He hoisted a bottle. “Me’n my special stock here. We’ll wait it out in a secret shaft I know of.” His ruddy face sobered. “And if it’s my time to go, I can’t think of any other place on this whole earth that I’d rather be. This is my home. Why, you know I even own the top of The Lady. Went toe-to-toe, me and Burlington Northern.” He stared into the glass in his hand. “You can’t make me go, Frank.” His voice softened. “Don’t try to make me go.”

  Frank took a deep breath. “Just doing my job, old man. They tell me to go up and reason with old Harry, so now I can say I’ve done so. Again. I didn’t expect you to change your mind and besides, Jenn and I”—he brushed her arm—“we were really hoping The Lady’d be out. The sky was clearing in Toutle.”

  Jenn flinched at his touch. He was as changeable as spring weather. Who—where was the real Frank McKenzie?

  The sheriff continued. “This city gal here needed to get out and get her boots dirty. Sight her camera on our mountain, ’stead of some idiot walking bundle of bones.” He slurred his words only slightly.

  “Sight all you want. I’m not leavin’, but you come on back any day. We’ll all still be here, me’n the cats and coon. And of course, St. Helens. She sure is making it hard to sleep at night. Those earthquakes giving me a crick in my neck.”

  “Earthquakes?” Jenn joined back in the conversation.

  “Yeah. All that rockin’ and rollin’ even knocked some stuff off my shelves. Lost a brand-new bottle the other night. Smashed all over the floor. What a waste.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair, making it stand even higher. “Shame.”

  “Have the quakes done any more damage that you know of?” Frank asked.

  “Not down here, but I know that’s what opened those two craters at the summit. Keeps all the geologists hyped up too. They got tracking equipment scattered all over the place. Talked to a couple up by Dog’s Head. They say that there bulge to the subpeak happened in the last eruption, ’bout a hundred years ago. Now it’s swelling again. Been avalanches, too. ’Course, everyone you talk to has a different theory.” Harry shook his head. “Near as I can tell, they’re all guessing what’ll happen next, just like the rest of us.” He picked up a half-grown black cat and cuddled the animal under his chin, all the while stroking the soft fur. “The only thing I know for sure is that I sure ain’t leaving.”

  “I get the point, Harry.” Frank pulled himself upright. He hadn’t felt so relaxed in a long time, a mighty long time. “But we’d better get ourselves back down that road. I’ve done my duty, the most pleasurable part of my duty. Next time I come, you need anything?”

  “Na. When you coming?”

  Frank switched his gaze to meet the questioning look in Jenn’s eyes. “The next time the mountain decides to show herself. She’s what this photographer friend of ours came to see. You don’t suppose she made the trek clear across the continent to have a drink or two with a couple of old has-beens like us, do you?”

  “Speak for yourself, you young pup. I gotta lot of living yet in this old hide of mine. You just get yourselves up here, and I’ll walk your legs right into the ground. You’ll get some real pictures, gal, you stick with old Harry.”

  Jenn laughed as she shook her head. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “I’ll bring in those cases of Coke.” Frank slipped his down vest back on.

  “You think I can’t carry in my own drinks?” Harry puffed up like a bantamweight prizefighter.

  “Stow it, Harry. Sig would chew you in pieces if you opened that door. You know that.”

  Water beaded and ran in rivulets down his vest by the time Frank set the two cases of Coke on the counter. He shook the drops off his felt hat. “Pouring harder than ever. Keeps up very long, and we’ll have more flooding. The Toutle’s a mess already. Come on, lady, let’s hit the road before it washes away.”

  “Thanks, Harry. These have been the best hours I’ve spent in a long time.”

  “Don’t wait so long, girl.” Harry walked them to the door. “See you, sheriff. You keep all those gawkers away now, you hear. Don’t let old Harry make a penny up here. My boats are gonna rot out with no one to rent them. And what’s a lodge without guests? That’s right. You and old Dixie Lee. Keep an honest man from earning an honest living.”

  “Maybe it’ll all calm down by the time fishing season opens. Then you’ll really be in the bucks.”

  “Yeah, and overrun by all them sightseers.”

  Frank snorted as he swung open the door. “Can’t have it both ways, old man.”

  “Nope, just wish we was back the way it was. I’ve had a good life here. The best.” Harry stared at his boot t
oes a moment. “See you soon?”

  “Soon.” Jenn gripped his hand. “Very soon.”

  Frank and Jenn dove for the Blazer, both of them laughing as they ducked their heads against the squall that tried to wrest the car door from Frank’s grasp. Jenn threw herself up to the seat just as Sig leaped into the back, his tail brushing across her face. She sputtered, wiping both dog hair and raindrops off her chin, then honked the horn at Harry when she realized the fogged windshield prevented him from seeing her wave.

  Frank honked again as he backed the truck and turned to head down the loopy road. Beautiful it was any time of year, but treacherous would be more likely today. Good thing he had four-wheel drive. They might need it.

  His concern proved unfounded when they pulled into the Toutle parking lot, an hour and a half later. The river had nearly crested the road in a couple of places, but Highway 504 was holding its own. Both Frank and Jenn had retreated to their inner dungeons as they returned to civilization, neither of them speaking for the final twenty-five miles.

  “Thanks for the ride.” Jenn picked up her pack, prepared to step out. Her teeth clenched on some of the choice words she’d been rehearsing to deliver. Instead she went with her heart. “If you ever want, I mean, need to talk about what happened, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.” Besides, I’m your friend from those eons ago.

  “You get some rest,” he ordered, eyes straight ahead. “And for heaven’s sake, eat.”

  “Who do you think you are?” She bit off each word precisely. “My keeper?”

  “By the looks of you, somebody’d better be.”

  She let the slam of the door answer for her. And see if I offer again. Ha! her inner voice added. Sometimes only the wounded recognized each other.

  APRIL 30, 1980

  But, Daddy. I don’t want you to go.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.” Harvey Sedor swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I have no choice.” He hugged five-year-old Lissa to his chest. With callused fingers, the tip on the index finger lost to a saw blade on a past job, he brushed the limp strands of blond hair from her pale face. Her skin had become thin and transparent, like cellophane covering blue veins. The treatments had done that to her. But the poisons the doctors had dripped and injected into her innocent body weren’t doing their job. The cancer seemed to feed on them instead. And now they were down to experimental procedures, a bone marrow transplant followed by months of isolation. They also had no money and no more insurance.

  When Harvey allowed himself to think of the mounting medical bills, despair settled on him like oily smoke from burning tires. That kind of smoke seeped into every pore, coated throat linings, and reddened eyes. The smell of it clung to one’s hands for days. Despair was like that.

  He rocked her gently, knowing how easily she bruised. Her thin arms clung to his neck as if she knew something he was unwilling, no, unable to tell her. He thought she had fallen asleep until she lifted her gaze to his.

  The purple bruises under her eyes tore at him. “Daddy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Am I going to die?”

  “No!” The denial was an explosion tearing out his heart. Not if I have anything to say about it! A taunt. A scream. A prayer. He flung his challenge at the heavens. “No,” he whispered against her hair.

  “ ’Cause Suzie said dying’s not a bad thing except …”

  “Except what?”

  “I don’t want to leave you and Mommy.” She took his face in her soft hands and looked deep into his eyes. “That’s why I don’t want you to go away now.”

  “But I’ve gone away on jobs before. Daddies have to work.”

  “I know.” She settled back under his chin. She was quiet, absorbed in her thoughts.

  He could feel her thinking, as if her mind reached into his and ferreted out the secret plans. He was being fanciful. No matter how close they had become in the hours of transport and treatment, mind reading was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  “Suzie said that when you’re dead, you don’t hurt no more.”

  God! Let her live! Take me! Let her live! He’d pleaded those prayers before, for whatever good it did. God must be sitting on His hands, for He certainly wasn’t healing this precious child.

  “Guess I’ll go to sleep now.” She hugged him again.

  He wanted to crush her to him, hold her safe from the invisible marauder, but instead he laid her gently in her bed and kissed her frail cheek. “Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams. God loves you, and so do I.” He choked on the nightly ritual and shut out the light.

  Harvey leaned against the archway into the living room, reliving each syllable of their talk. If he’d had any doubts as to his actions, they’d evaporated in the heat of his despair. The doctor had said “no treatment, no life.” This was their last chance.

  He strode into the bedroom, hoisted his suitcase, and entered the kitchen to pick up his red-and-white cooler, packed and ready. Mellie tightened the Thermos lid as he put both arms around her from behind and kissed her on the neck.

  “Harv, I don’t want you to go.” Her shoulder-length hair, slightly darker than her daughter’s, swung forward and hid the quiver in her determined chin.

  “You sound like your daughter.”

  “We need you here. I know you said you’d be back for the preops but …”

  “It’s the only job I could find. And you know how good the Teamsters insurance plan is. We’ll get the help we need.” He tightened his arms, so she leaned back against him. “Mellie, I don’t know anything else to do.” The fridge hummed loud in the silence. He could feel her heart thumping against her narrow rib cage. Wiry was a description she hated, but it suited her. She’d manage. “Now, you know where all the papers are if anything should happen to me?”

  She nodded.

  “And I’ll call you with a phone number as soon as I’ve got a place to stay.” Her silence made him want to blurt out his carefully contrived plans. They’d never kept secrets from each other. He took a deep breath. “I’ll only be about two hours away. Chehalis isn’t the end of the world, you know.” His attempt at being lighthearted failed for both of them.

  “Those logging trucks go right up on the mountain, and Dixie Lee ordered everyone out of there. I don’t care about the insurance. We’ll find another way to—”

  “No. We won’t.” His voice fell flat. A period. Final.

  Mellie scrubbed the tears from her eyes, bit her lip until she could taste blood, and drew a ragged breath. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

  Harvey nodded.

  He waved to her as he climbed into the cab of their well-used pickup. Goodbye, my love. I know this is our only way, so please forgive me once you understand. He backed out of the driveway of their east Tacoma home, blinked his headlights at the slim figure standing in the door, and fought down the urge to cancel his plans. The freeway beckoned.

  Once through the Tacoma interchanges, he allowed thoughts to surface of the insurance policy that he’d tucked away among the papers in his file box: $500,000 and double indemnity for an accidental death times two. There had always been accidents for logging trucks. One more wouldn’t even make a ripple in the lake of life. And his family would be taken care of. The house, the car, the credit cards, all paid for because of those small premiums. But the biggie. Lissa’s chance for life. His throat clenched with a sober awareness of his intention. A life for a life. A fair exchange.

  He turned the radio up loud and forced himself to listen to the blaring rock-and-roll. “No turning back, no turning back.” He pulled off the freeway at State Highway 504 and, a mile later, turned into the truck yard. Harvey Sedor reported to the office. God had given him this job, but would He sanction the plan that Harv had built around such provision?

  APRIL 30, 1980

  Never one to wait for help, J. E. Stockton took matters into her own capable hands when the weather cleared. According to the Columbian, southwest Washington’s largest daily newspaper, Pearson Airpark of
f Highway 14 had become the nerve center for small aircraft.

  Monday morning she turned her pickup off Highway 14 at Industrial Way, followed the signs to the airfield, and parked behind the corrugated metal hangers. By the number of vehicles in the parking lot, she wasn’t the only one with flying in mind.

  She grabbed her daypack by the shoulder straps, stuffed her down vest in the front pocket, and set off to locate a pilot. I should have called for a reservation, she thought as she strode around the corner.

  Five planes were lined up at the west end of the concrete runway, ready for takeoff. Several others were warming up, prior to trundling down to join the line.

  As Jenn approached the building marked OFFICE, she could see another line; this one of men waiting in front of the counter.

  It seemed like a hundred conversations going on at the same time, all in cocktail party decibels as she opened the door. The cacophony and the cigarette smoke hit her simultaneously. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, Jenn stepped into line behind two gesticulating men.

  “I don’t care what your studies indicate,” said the bearded one. “This mountain is going to blow. The only question is when? The quakes have progressed to harmonic tremors. That means magma is moving around under that peak.” He threw up his hands. “It’ll only get worse.”

  “Sam, there’s been earthquake activity under these peaks before. Why, Baker’s been puffing for years. Even Rainier steams at times.” Dennis, the younger of the two, shoved his hands into his back pockets. “You can’t just shut the area down. People have a right to get into their property around Spirit Lake, and I sure wouldn’t want to be the one to tell those loggers to take a vacation. They’ve been known to turn a hair nasty when they can’t work.”