The Same River

by Lisa M. Reddick

  The silence fell around them, and Jeff let it rest for a moment, before he continued, “Actually, Fred, I just found out today that there’s an agreement with the Forest Service assuring PowerCorp that the dam can stay in place and we can get by with building a fish ladder and other habitat enhancements. Of course, I’m the one who will have to come up with this plan and restructure the environmental-impact statement that Jess and I have been working on.”

  Leaning back into his worn leather armchair, Fred arched his wide eyebrows and looked sternly at Jeff. “Well, now, I can’t say I’m surprised, given the priorities around here these days. But, Jeff, gosh, you and Jess have been working on this report for months. I saw parts of it just the other day, and it seemed clear that dam removal was the best option. What do you think is going to happen?”

  Shifting his PowerCorp cap back onto his head, Jeff sighed. “Well, while it’s true that dam removal is the best-case scenario, PowerCorp is convinced there are sound ways to move the salmon around the dam. But once they’re there, the warm water that’s sitting in the reservoir will be stuffed with brown trout, and we know their favorite food is baby salmon and steelhead, which would decimate the down-migrating fry. And Jess has taken this on as a kind of personal cause. She’s so ardent and is convinced that this is the only way. I haven’t talked to her about it yet, but I know she must be upset and ready to fight. You know, Fred, I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time. I just can’t get enough of her. She’s funny and smart and extremely passionate about this river. It’s almost like she’s never stopped trying to save her sister . . .”

  “I know what you mean. What a sad story. She’s always been so willful and so strong. We all love Jess and want to see her happy. I know this has been an important time for her, and I know she’s pretty crazy about you, too. It’s going to be rough—we both know that—but you two can work it out. Just stay steady.” Fred looked over at Janine, who had just walked in from the kitchen. She was a vision of tenderness and nurturing, and Jeff felt for a moment the familiar tug of missing his own mother and put his hand on his heart.

  Janine asked, “Jeff, would you like some coffee or something? The cobbler won’t be ready for a while. Can you stay for dinner?”

  “Thanks, Janine, but no, I have to get home. I would love some coffee though. You know, Fred, we all want what’s best for the fish, for our own reasons. I think we can do this and have a win-win situation. The salmon and steelhead get their ladder, and Penden Valley gets to keep its lights on.”

  Fred looked at Jeff with a distrusting stare. “Shit, Jeff”—Jeff felt his stomach clench—“not one goddamn electron goes into the homes of Penden Valley. It all goes into some master grid in Utah, where it’s bought and sold like cattle at auction. What Green Springs generates is a minuscule amount. You know that. Don’t bullshit me. Just the other day, I was talking with the old guy who grows all those healing herbs up at Toketee Flat. He was telling me about an Indian friend of his who sees the bodies of salmon falling out of his lightbulbs.”

  Staring into the mug of coffee Janine had brought him, Jeff tried to steady himself. It took him a while to understand what Fred was trying to say, but he finally responded, “Fred, you and I know that power is profit. It’s almost impossible to take the bone from the dog once he has it.”

  Sighing, Jeff looked down at the photos on the end table next to the couch, mostly of Fred and Janine’s family—children and grandchildren. There was one of Jeff with Fred up on the Nesika the year before. He had caught a twenty-five-pound spring chinook on a very small fly rod. Before they’d released the fish, they’d had a passing tourist take their picture. Even then, Jeff thought to himself, he knew that the Green Springs dam would probably never come out.

  While Jeff sipped his coffee, despite the now-tense atmosphere in the cabin, he felt the kinship of having lived in the same area as these people for such a long time. He could hear the Nesika flowing fast below the cabin, and he looked over at Fred in silence.

  JESS

  Why hadn’t he called her? Jess pushed excuses around in her mind like old furniture. He knew what had happened today, knew she would be furious, and yet had slipped away, out of reach.

  Just then, Miko’s ears pricked and he huffed his low bark at the sound of Jeff’s truck tires in the gravel driveway. Jess ran her hands through her hair, her heart racing in her chest, as she waited for the door to open.

  When Jeff came in, Miko bounded over to him and she followed. She wanted tonight to be like all the others and sought out Jeff’s eyes as he took off his PowerCorp cap and hung it on the coat hook just inside the door. She wanted to say something but let him pull her into his arms instead. She loved his familiar smell: sweat and machine oil from working in the power stations. In some ways, it was like any other night, and Jess wished that it could just be last night, when the meeting was the next day and they had assurance that the proposal to remove the Green Springs dam was still a possibility.

  Jeff pushed back without looking at her. Stepping away from him, she sat in a chair across from the couch, where she knew he would sit out of habit.

  “Jess, sorry about today. I should have known something like this might be coming down, but I really didn’t know about it until just this morning. I would have called you—given you a heads-up—but I was feeling a little blindsided myself. The deal-breaker was a memo from the head of the Forest Service.”

  “I know who he is.” Jess tried not to sound hostile.

  “Basically, it guaranteed that the Forest Service would stamp any plan that PowerCorp comes up with. I didn’t see the memo until after you were finished with the meeting. Now I’m supposed to come up with a proposal for you guys at the agency—one that you’ll sign but that leaves Green Springs in the river.”

  “What the fuck, Jeff? You know their decision won’t stand anyway. It can’t, with all the scientific reports we have to back up our position.”

  “Well, I don’t know, Jess. It’s all very complicated—”

  “Jeff, we both know the science, and it’s not complicated.” Jess felt the sharp stirrings of anger move through her stomach. “We did this research together! There’s no other way to restore that habitat besides taking the dam out.”

  She got up and walked toward the kitchen, breathing in the stark light and focusing on her teal table stuffed into a too-small corner. No, no, no, she thought to herself. She opened the refrigerator and let the coolness calm her. “Do you want some wine?”

  “Yeah, that would be great.” Jeff had followed her into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter behind her. They were both silent while Jess filled two glasses. She looked up into Jeff’s eyes; when she handed him his glass, he looked away and a heavy silence filled the room.

  The phone rang, and Jess let the answering machine pick up.

  “Hey, Jess. It’s me, Suzie.” The familiar, singsong voice of Jess’s old friend rang in the room after the beep. “Holy fucking shit—Martin called me today and told me about that fucked-up meeting with PowerCorp. Fucking bastards.” Jess looked up at Jeff and mock-grimaced. “Anyway, call me. He wants us all to get together on this—I guess at his house?—tomorrow around seven o’clock. Call me . . . Oh, God I bet Jeff is home. Shit—can’t wait to hear how that goes!”

  Jess sat down on the couch and looked into her wineglass, trying to divine what to say next. Suzie was a radical environmentalist involved in a fringe organization called Earth in Mind, whose tactics were sometimes questionable but seemed to fit Suzie’s sense of style and attitude toward people making the decisions such as the one made today. Jess had chosen science as her brand of activism; Suzie’s ways were just too erratic. Jess knew Jeff didn’t like Suzie to begin with, but tonight she didn’t feel like making excuses for her friend.

  Conflicting feelings crashed in the room around them, like a cascade of whitewater rushing down a canyon during a storm. She reached out for Jeff’s hand and pulled him onto the couch next to
her.

  She really liked Jeff. When she was alone and thinking of him, she thought she even loved him. They were a “good fit,” people said to her, and she imagined their bodies—naked, tangled, fulfilled, and “fitting” so well. But now she sensed something new between them. Even though it was small, Jess could sense that the space between them was growing wider. Jeff moved back slightly and looked down at the floor in front of the couch. “So, you going to that meeting tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, sure. Martin was really upset today when I called him. I don’t know what he has in mind,” she said, tucking Martin’s “fucking lawyer” comment away in her secrets-from-Jeff file, “but I like the people who are working with the Nesika Watershed Council. They have their heads together, and maybe enough funding to figure out something that could make a difference. I just don’t know how much I can be involved with them, since I work for the agency that’s suddenly bowing to corporate interest, on the side of PowerCorp.”

  Jeff said, “Yeah, it would be good to be careful. I’m just not sure what can be done. It seems like this decision was made on a much higher level than the local groups can reach. But who knows? Maybe if they get someone good involved . . .”

  “But, Jeff, you know they can’t ask us to ignore our reports. They can’t get away with this. And you don’t want them to, right?” She leaned back to look at him. They’d been together for almost six months and hadn’t had many fights, but now she felt her guard rearing up.

  “Well, Jess, like I said, this is all complicated and we’re just going to have to find our way through it. I know what the reports say, of course, and so do they. They may just . . . well, ask for another one—you know, an internal report that might have a different outcome.”

  “And who the fuck would do that? Jeff, you can’t tell me you’d get involved in anything like that!” Jess jumped up and spilled her wine on the carpet in the process. Miko came over, looking worried, and she bolted into the kitchen.

  “I might not have any choice,” she heard Jeff say to her back.

  Liar, she said to herself, as she came out with a dishcloth. She cleaned up the spilled wine in silence and then rushed back into the kitchen, taking too long to rinse out the towel in the sink. She glanced up and saw her reflection in the window, her dark hair pulled back and her eyes round with anger. Then Jeff slid into her view, and she looked up at him as if he were staring in at her from the darkness outside the glass.

  “Jess, we’re going to work this out. I know we will. There has to be a way that will work for all of us, especially us.”

  She turned and looked up into his dark brown eyes; they were sad and worried. But she just pushed past him, saying, “I’m going to take Miko for a walk. Want to come?”

  Jess rattled Miko’s leash, and he came crashing toward her, his big, bearlike body swaying in excitement, his black-masked face focused devotedly on her. Every evening they went on their walk up to the cemetery behind her house. Jess loved to be able to feel the roll of the seasons each day, moving into or out of one of their expressions. She liked to think of this as her way of staying related to her little sister, Monica, feeling as if Monica were still part of Jess’s daily routine.

  That Saturday morning, they had been playing along the river together, fishing, throwing sticks for their small dog, Lappy, and splashing through the high, cold spring river. It was a beautiful day, and the sun was flashing on the water. Jess decided that they should try to swim to the rope swing across the river. It was early in the season, but the morning was so warm. They both jumped into the current, wearing their T-shirts and shorts. The fast current surprised Jess, but she made it to the other side easily. When she turned back to look for Monica, she was gone. Jess called out. She saw Monica pop up once, just before the fast whitewater downstream pulled her under. Jess jumped in after her, screaming her name. The rapids were high, too high for swimming, and Monica never made it back to the surface. Jess carried a wound that hurt her continuously and that she knew would never heal. Was it her fault? Could she have saved her sister?

  She could never find an answer to these questions. Her sister was gone, out of Jess’s reach forever, her once-lively and playful body resting in a grave on a small hill in the Catholic cemetery just a half mile from Jess’s house.

  “Sure, that would be nice,” Jeff said, interrupting her thoughts, seeming to realize that Jess was struggling to reach him. And Jess was grateful when he reached for her, though she felt herself shaking, the memory of the trauma of losing her sister suddenly and viciously entangled with the possibility of losing Jeff, of losing the fight to save the Nesika. She couldn’t bear it and let Jeff hold her. Finally, her trembling began to still and he kissed her. They fell onto the couch, knocking books and papers onto the floor. Jess moved toward him in an abandoned, urgent way, feeling his rising desire for her through the roughness of his jeans. This was a current that couldn’t be stopped. The passion they had found in the hot springs that day flowed through every moment of their time together. They lived constantly on the edge between making love and not. And tonight there was a new fierceness underlying their attraction. Miko sighed and lay down heavily by the door.

  “Be right back, buddy!” Jess called to him. They made their way onto their bed, throwing clothes around the house as they went. As Jess lay back on the bed, Jeff moved on top of her, looking into her eyes. He was certain with her, holding the small of her back in his hand, stroking the inside of her thigh and moving her strong legs around him. Jess let go completely into him, and they blended with the slow movement that always seemed certain and eternal to her.

  They lay together, tangled and pleased, for a while. In those moments, Jess felt like the world was perfect, this world where she was warm and comforted, safe, and, for now, completely surrendered. Then she heard Miko rustling around in the other room and remembered their walk. “I’ve got to take Miko out. Still want to come with me?” Jess asked.

  “Sure.” He smiled, took her hand, and helped her out of the bed.

  They dressed quickly, and their self-consciousness and the tension of their argument rushed back into the room. Jess watched Jeff’s back as he methodically put on his jacket and hat. He always seemed to be moving slightly slowly, as if he were underwater. She loved that about him—he didn’t ever seem to do anything unless it was deliberate, unless he wanted to. She wondered why suddenly he could just give up on the plan to remove the dam—give up on the science and certainty they both believed in.

  As Miko charged ahead down the darkening sidewalk toward the cemetery, Jess moved to Jeff’s side and he put his arm around her shoulder.

  “Hey,” he said, “we both know this is going to be hard for us. Everyone must be wondering—”

  “Jeff, we both want the dam out. We aren’t the only ones who know that removing it is the only solution. We don’t have time to argue about it. Every season that goes by, we lose more and more of the wild populations that we need to keep the salmon going. You have to support us on this.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Jess.”

  They walked in silence for a bit, then turned the corner toward the cemetery. Jess felt the familiar undulations of grief when she spotted the large golden cottonwood and the small white grave marker just below it. It was twilight, and the marker seemed to glow in the distance. Miko ran ahead, setting off the chirping alarms of the ground squirrels. I’ll do what I can, Jess thought, and sighed as she looked down at the pavement.

  When they got to the grave, she absentmindedly cleared away some of the brush around the headstone, slowly tracing her sister’s name with her finger while Jeff rested his hand on her back. Jess sat on the ground next to the grave and thought of a time when they would have been joined by eagles soaring overhead, bears rumbling through the fields, wolves howling from the ridgetops, and mountain lions stalking smaller animals in the shadows. Would the salmon follow them? Or would their small families struggle to hold on, pushing against the current of human development, u
ntil the last of their kind slid to one side and let them pass?

  The familiarity of her sister’s grave gave Jess some comfort. Whatever happened, whether the dam came out or not, this place would be here, through the seasons.

  She stood and called out, “Let’s go, Miko! C’mon, boy!”

  They walked back to the small house in silence. The air cooled quickly, and rain began to fall softly as they walked up the path to the door. The light glowed from inside, and Jess entered the comfort of her home.

  PIAH

  It was just beginning to get dark when Piah got back to camp. Lifting the damp, heavy elk skin that covered the door, Piah breathed in the scent of her home and knelt down on the musky deer fur next to her sleeping daughter. Piah cradled Libah and began to nurse her, feeling the warmth of her mother’s knowing smile in the shifting light. Piah nuzzled Libah’s hair, smelling the sweet, musky scent of her family, cedar smoke, and rain.

  As Piah’s mother began to stack the wood in the small fire pit in the center of their home, Piah was grateful for the certain warmth and light that the flames offered. She began to sing her fire song to Libah, and her mother joined in. It was a song of gratitude to the spirit of fire. Piah closed her eyes, remembering how her tribe had used big fires to burn the land and clear the way for gathering the seeds from the sticky tar plants in the valley down the river from their home. As she had grown older, she had worked with the women enthusiastically, swinging her willow branches in time with her companions, chanting songs of gratitude for the plants and seeds that gave them life. Last season, she had been pregnant and worked alongside her mother and grandmother. They had woven into their chanting lessons for Piah: how to be a mother, how to birth her baby and care for her body afterward.

  Piah’s husband, Maika, came in through the skin door and smiled when he saw Libah and Piah. She handed Libah to him and moved next to her mother to help her tend the fire and begin to prepare the evening meal.