The Way of Women

by Lauraine Snelling

  And all that was hidden by clouds. There was no way to get in on foot or horseback or motorized vehicle of any kind. Only a chopper would do.

  There were Forest Service planes going up, and rescue choppers still plied the skies, staying high enough so they didn’t blow up the ash. The ash was being blamed for more problems than anyone had ever dreamed. It clogged air filters and delicate instruments, and ground into any aperture available. Everyone in the zone wore gauze masks to protect lungs. The latest reports said the ash contained particles of silicone, which meant glass.

  Jenn knew all this, studied every bit of information she could glean from print, radio, and television. She finished her cup of coffee in a gulp and went to make a phone call.

  “Hi, Mitch, this is Jenn Stockton.”

  “Well, well, the ice queen herself.”

  She cringed, bit back a sharp retort, and forced a smile into her voice. “I’ve heard that there’s a possibility the weather might clear this afternoon. And the dream is that you would be going up and willing to take along a passenger.”

  “There’s a chance.”

  She straightened from her laconic lean against the wall. “Really?” Hope warmed her voice.

  “Well, I’ll be. Do I detect a crashing icicle?”

  “From Pearson?” She ignored his comment but reminded herself to keep some warmth in her voice. The man managed to set her hackles straight up with only two or three words. Always the innuendo. Whatever happened to normal conversation between the sexes?

  “Word has it late afternoon. I’ll be flying if you want to come.”

  “Want to? Flyboy, you’ve got a passenger.”

  “I’m not promising the mountain.”

  “Hey, I know you’re not God.”

  “But we’ll give it our best shot.” So many words that had double meanings. God, I’m so tired of that life, those lines. How do I handle this?

  Interesting that she found herself not using God as an expletive but as a petitioner. I want what I had at one time and have so carelessly thrown away.

  She sighed. “I really appreciate this, Mitch. I just have to see the damage myself before I leave.”

  “You headin’ on home?”

  “Let’s say back to work. New York is not my home.” Not any longer, not that it ever was.

  “Okay, I’ll see you at Pearson for preflight about two, two thirty.”

  There, he’d done it again. It was all in the tone of voice, had nothing to do with the words he used, well, not that he didn’t do that masterfully too.

  She hung up the phone and danced into the kitchen. “I’m going up, I’m going up.”

  Clare smiled around apprehension. “I’m glad for you and scared to death at the same time. What if she blows again while you’re in the air?”

  “Others outflew the big blast, and the odds of that happening again right now are fairly slim.”

  “By whose estimate? Has anyone figured anything out? Not that I’ve seen.” She crossed the kitchen and put both arms around her daughter. “I’m just doing my job as a mother, you know.”

  Jenn smiled and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Never give up, do you?”

  “Nope, I pray for you every day, usually more than once, every time God brings you to my mind. I know there is no way I can help you, but I know He can and does.”

  “What do you pray?”

  “Oh, for protection mostly. That you will find true happiness, that you will return to Him.”

  “What makes you think I left?”

  “Ah, my dear daughter, your actions speak a language far too clearly.”

  If you only knew. No, thank God you don’t know it all. I think I would die of embarrassment. “Thanks, Mom. Maybe that’s what brought me home.”

  “Why did you come back now?”

  “I was so sick of all that around me that all I could think was to get back to the mountain and see her again, especially if she was going to blow.”

  “You’ve always had a special thing for The Lady.”

  “I know. I think you and Dad started it. But I feel …” Jenn paused, trying to put her thoughts and feelings into words. “I feel like I’m connected to her somehow.”

  “Perhaps you feel closer to God there.”

  Jenn nodded, tonguing the right side of her lower lip. When that wasn’t sufficient, she nibbled it. “I feel more alive, excited about little things that don’t even show up otherwise.”

  “Little things like …?”

  “Physical, like a perfect leaf, the sun through a branch, a smell, my senses are revved up, I look forward to the next discovery. I feel like I can run up hills. Superwoman, able to leap tall buildings, or mountains, in a single bound …” Jenn found herself laughing with her mother, something they had not done a lot of when she was growing up. Those were the grief years for her mother, the time after James died.

  “Wish you would come with me.” Jenn was as surprised by the statement as she could tell was her mother.

  Clare hugged her daughter again, all the while saying, “You know me and any planes, let alone small ones. You want to see your mother puking out a window?”

  “Well, that wouldn’t happen on a large plane. They give you a baggie, but you might find the view so exciting, you could skip being sick.”

  “I’ll have dinner ready when you get back.” She gave her daughter another hug. “But you have no idea how much your offer pleases me.”

  Jenn arrived at the Airpark early, and that after she’d made herself drive clear out to Camas and back. Other than additions to the Crown Zellerbach Paper Plant, she’d not noticed a lot of change, at least from the highway. Surely there were plenty of new houses built up in the hills.

  She parked her truck where she could watch planes coming and going and took a couple of deep breaths to help her relax. Cloudy still, not even a spot of blue. Would it break enough for a sneak peek at the peak?

  She half smiled at playing with words. Pictures were her forte, as they all knew, rarely words, at least written words. Perhaps that was why titling and captioning her photos came with such difficulty.

  Each time she heard a vehicle arrive, she checked her rearview mirror. Two thirty, two forty-five. No Mitch. Had something happened on the mountain? Something that detained him? If they didn’t get in the air soon, dusk would hide the mountain’s secrets again.

  While all the geologists studying the mountain could get to read the data, most of the general public, Jenn included, had to depend on reports carried on the radio, television, or newspapers. Some she’d gleaned from Frank, but she always wanted to know more. Lady, what’s happening with you?

  Three o’clock and Mitch drove in to park beside her.

  “Sorry I’m late, more reports to file.”

  “Sounds like with all the reports between all the agencies, they’d better retrieve every tree that was downed.”

  “You can bet the timber companies are screaming for just that. I need to file my flight plan. We’re flying that red 182 over there.”

  She waited for him by the gate, mentally checking through her gear as to what would be most effective with all the cloud cover, anything to keep her mind off Frank.

  He hadn’t lost his quick temper, that was for sure. Or was it her? Was he only this way when they were together? Maybe she should ask Maybelle. She’d tell her. Honest and forthright. That was Maybelle Hartman. And from something Frank said, Jenn was pretty sure Maybelle knew him better than anyone and wouldn’t take any guff from him.

  So how had he gotten under her skin again, she who could tell the smoothest operators to take their lines elsewhere, case in point the man walking toward her.

  You never quit loving him. The voice inside sounded both sad and wise.

  Of course I have. She followed Mitch to the plane, watching as he did a preflight walk around.

  He might be a philanderer, but he was extremely cautious with a plane. She’d heard rumors of his skirt chasing, along with basing i
t on her own experience.

  “Does your wife like to fly?”

  His fingers stopped mid caress on a prop, and he shot her a look that said “beware” over his shoulder.

  “I hear she’s quite an artist.”

  Another pause, only this time he covered his reaction. “You been checking into my life, ice queen?”

  She glanced toward the north. “Oh, Mitch, look.” She pointed at the patch of blue that might well be north of the mountain.

  “I’m done here. Get in.”

  She did as he ordered, her heart picking up the pace, her hands shaking as she buckled her seat belt. The crater, I don’t need a long look but even just a glimpse. Although, the more pictures the better. They’d help her remember her time on the mountain, not that she needed any prompts. She stared out the windshield, mentally counting down as Mitch continued his preflight check. Had she been piloting, she would have been sorely tempted to rush the process.

  He started first one engine and then the other, their roar drowning any need for conversation. He finished his cockpit preflight and turned on the radio. “November 4834 Echo, taxi for takeoff.”

  After receiving final clearance, he positioned them on the runway, shoved the throttle all the way forward, and lifted into the sky. Cloud cover hovered at about five thousand feet, as they flew through wisps of fog, still seeing the terrain below, though spotty.

  “I’m going around on the east side,” he shouted now that the engine roar was more subdued.

  “Good. How high?”

  “Going up to fifteen thousand. Ash and steam are minimal right now, according to flight service.”

  “How close?”

  “Three, four miles. Depends on the clouds.”

  Jenn nodded, all the time wishing she’d been able to ride in a chopper. That was the only way to get really close.

  How close is close enough? This time her voice wore a teasing tone. To be honest, close enough to see the whole picture, then …

  “Will you look at that.” Mitch dipped the left wing to give them a better view.

  Jenn couldn’t answer. Awe took over her throat and heart and soul. The horseshoe-shaped crater yawned below them, so deep it seemed she could see clear to the base of the mountain. “Can we come around again from the west?”

  “I’ll try. If our weather window stays open long enough.” He called in to the tower requesting permission to alter his flight plan. After some back and forth from the ground, he set the plane into a steep bank to the left and came back over it.

  Jenn kept snapping as they passed. Mitch sang at what might be the top of his lung power, “Oh, the things we do for love.”

  Jenn ignored him, all her attention focused on the hole in her friend, her fingers clicking the shutter, adjusting apertures and swapping lenses without conscious effort on her part. As they banked again, the mist crept back over, as if the crater really did not exist but was a figment of her imagination.

  “What did you say?”

  “Just chatting with the Forest Service. They’re as excited at the viewing as you are.”

  Thank you, God. I asked for this and you gave me the gift. Why? Only you have control over the clouds. But you made it happen. This was indeed something she would have to think about.

  “Thanks. More than I can say.”

  “I’d like prints of those.”

  “Of course.” She leaned back and closed her eyes, the better to see the crater. Awesome was the only word she could come up with.

  “Some of those should be easy to sell. Newspapers, magazines, get your name out there.”

  “I don’t need my name out there.”

  Yes, you do. Big difference between shooting fashion layouts and shooting a mountain crater. How quickly could she get them processed?

  “You have any contacts at the Oregonian?”

  “No, but I do at the Vancouver paper, the Columbian. Why?”

  “Perhaps they would develop the black-and-whites.”

  “I’ll take you down there when we get back on the ground.”

  Another favor. How would she repay them all?

  Fog was teasing the perimeters of the airport when they landed.

  “Just in time.” Mitch rolled to a stop. “You chock the wheels while I shut this baby down.”

  “Yes sir!” She put plenty of emphasis on the “sir,” even so far as touching two fingers to her forehead. Pushing open the door, she scrambled out, then reached back in for her backpack. If those frames were anywhere near what she thought them to be … She set the chocks and kicked each one to make sure they were secure. Capricious winds could create havoc at a small airport like this one. They would pick up plenty of turbulence roaring through the Columbia Gorge.

  She didn’t need to check the windsock to know that right now the winds were blowing from the west, and moisture-laden from the ocean.

  After chaining the wings of the plane to the earth, Mitch ushered her ahead of him into the office. He hung the plane keys on a board of hooks, slapped his logbook on the counter, and held up a hand.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll be right there.” He headed down the hall.

  “Where’s the rest room?” she asked the man behind the counter.

  “Follow that man. That’s where he’s headed.”

  Jenn waited outside the one bathroom door, restless, pacing. She might indeed have a scoop here, not that there hadn’t been other crater photos, but none for three days. The mountain had been noticeably reticent about viewing.

  “Couldn’t stay away, eh?” Mitch touched the bill of his baseball hat.

  Jenn rolled her eyes.

  Back outside, she met him again at the pickup. “You want to ride, or follow?”

  “Follow. Then I don’t have to come back out here.”

  “Suit yourself.” He waited for her to get her truck started, then turned right onto Mill Plain Boulevard, back to the declining downtown district of Vancouver. They parked in the parking lot and approached the building.

  “You think anyone will be here?”

  “Oh, my friend Jerry will. They’ve been working round the clock since the mountain started.”

  “Even if they don’t put out a Saturday paper?”

  “Got to get the Sunday edition ready.”

  “True.”

  He held the door for her, then motioned her toward the reception desk.

  Within minutes they were back in the darkroom with Mitch’s friend, Jerry.

  “Will you look at that?” The photo showed the crater in all its glory, a small puff of ash rising in the center of the floor and a bit of cloud fuzzying the west rim.

  “I’ll buy it.”

  Jenn eased a couple more prints out of the tray and clipped them on the drying rack. As they’d thought from the negatives, the first one was the best.

  “I’ll develop some more of these when I get home and send you one.”

  “Home, as in …?”

  “I have a darkroom at Mom and Dad’s.”

  “You want to stop for a cup of coffee?”

  There, it was back. That suggestive tone again. She’d almost begun to like him, and then this.

  “You know, Mitch, you and I could be good friends if you’d leave off the leering.”

  “I didn’t leer. I just asked if you wanted a cup of coffee. I have to get back to the office.”

  “It’s your tone, your stance, you don’t even know you do it.” Jenn wanted to throw her hands in the air, but she had too much in them. Why doesn’t he get it?

  “A cup of coffee, that’s all I’m asking.”

  Jenn sighed. “All right.” But don’t make me regret this. “Burgerville?”

  “No, Denny’s.”

  All the way to the restaurant, she argued back and forth. Go, stay. She needed to say thank you. Call him; it’s safer. She wanted to … to what? Send him home to his wife, that’s what. With that in mind, she followed him into the restaurant.

  Once seated at a booth
in the back, and full cups in front of them, she struggled to find the words. Words that he couldn’t twist.

  “How do I thank you?” She knew that was stupid when the words left her mouth.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

  “There, you did it again.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “What did you mean then? ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way.’ ”

  “Ah, Jenn, you’re just too sensitive. Can’t a guy even tease you?”

  Follow through—back off. He’s right. I am sensitive. I’m sick and tired of that life.

  “Mitch, I’m telling you this as a friend. Teasing is one thing. Affairs are another. Mitchell Ross, go home to your wife before you lose her. And your kids.” She kept her voice soft, but she enunciated each word, clearly, carefully. She leaned slightly forward. “Before it’s too late.”

  She tossed two dollars on the table and left without a backward glance.

  Now, if only she could have a chance to talk with Frank.

  The Lady languished like a patient regaining consciousness, slow to wake, dazed, but coming to her senses. Again, again. But all around her, only ash and steam and stink. The new ash veil, ripped from her heart, blew toward the sea and the Sound. Oh, foolish friends, why are you so hurried? Can you not see that there is more?

  MAY 25, 1980

  The phone ringing on a Sunday morning would make anyone swear, and Frank did. His eyes hurt, his head had become a thudding drum, his throat felt raw as though he’d swallowed glass.

  “Not another hangover.” Disappointment traveled well over the phone wires, and Maybelle’s sigh made her message even clearer. “I thought you’d turned over a new leaf.”