Road Blocks

Part Five

Friday June 22, 2012

 

Crouching at the fire pit, Will waited for the water to boil for tea as he stared into the heart of the coals, mind racing. His head hurt. He felt like both hemispheres of his brain were battling, each competing for control: one side running a continuous loop of Eva’s words, her stricken face, her screams, while the other flashed random information bytes stored in his memory about the fateful expedition.

Eventually the lawsuit had come to nothing, though by the time the case was thrown out of court, the ordeal had taken its toll. He remembered the cover on a magazine he’d seen at a kiosk in some airport he was passing through: A pale face, sorrow-etched, hair pulled tight at the base of a slender neck, head just turning away from the intrusion of the camera, though not quick enough to hide the tear slipping down the woman’s cheek. Will recognized the pain—he’d seen its like in his mirror for years—and had wanted to punch his fist into the photographer’s face for exposing her anguish, allowing the ghouls to pick at her like carrion birds.

Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he questioned the kismet in bringing that very woman into his orbit. When he heard a slight rustle as Eva came out of the tent, he looked over his shoulder. “The tea is almost ready. If you want to stay there, I’ll bring it to you.”

“No, I’d rather be out here.” Sitting down next to her gear, she folded her legs, then glanced up at Will. “I’m sorry about the...screaming. I haven’t had a nightmare that bad in a long time.”

“Don’t,” he said, briefly pressing a finger against her lips. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” Fixing the tea, he murmured, “I remember most of the details about the climb, but...” he hesitated. Was it any of his business? Should he back off, give her a break, resist his need to know, to understand who she was?

“But...what?” Waiting for him to explain, Eva sorted through the leaf packets, pulling one out of the stack and handing it to him. “A very little will sweeten the tea.”

Carefully opening the small packet, Will took a pinch of the reddish powder, sprinkled it into her cup, and handing it to her, said, “I’m wondering why you think you were responsible for Nick’s death? You didn’t kill him, Eva. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t get why you think it was.”

Eva held the cup in both hands, warming her cold fingers. “I was the one who let those two guys in the group. Nick liked to climb with just a few people, but they offered an exorbitant amount of money, determined to be included, and I gave in.” She closed her eyes, shook her head. “For money,” she grated, “the whole nightmare, everything that happened, goes back to that. The money.”

Clearing her throat, she took another sip of tea. “But even worse,” she said, “was after those bastards took off, and Nick refused to wait for the rescue team. I was really upset; at myself, at those assholes, but also at Nick. I told him he had to wait, it was too dangerous for him to go alone, but he wouldn’t listen. No, not Nick. He had to do it his way.” Eva’s voice trembled. “The last thing I said to him—I was so angry—was ‘go ahead, get yourself killed, see if I care.’”

“Oh, Eva.” Will leaned toward her, rubbing his hand on her arm. “If they'd been decent guys, things would have turned out fine, and your decision about the money, or adding two extra climbers to the group, wouldn’t have mattered at all.” He sighed. “And believe me, I know we all say things we regret. Nick had to know you didn’t mean it.”

Her words, dismissive and bitter, growled out of her throat. “But I said it. And he died.” Roughly, she brushed his hand off her arm. “Don’t you get it, Will? The fact is, they weren’t decent guys.  If I hadn’t let them climb, none of it would have happened. There’s no way for a different outcome here.  I made the wrong decision—I did, just me—and it changed everything.”

“Come on, Eva, you have to know the fault, the blame, was theirs. You might have made the initial decision, but they caused the tragedy by their actions, their arrogance and stupidity. You must see that.”

When she said nothing, Will huffed out a frustrated breath. But after slowly drinking his tea, relaxing for a few minutes, listening to the soft crackle of the fire, he quietly said, “If you’re still speaking to me, there is one more thing I’ve wondered about.” He waited patiently until she met his eyes, and at her slight nod, he asked, “Where did you go? After everything was over, it was like you just vanished.”

Blowing in her cup to cool the tea, Eva took a tiny sip before replying. “I had a place in Chicago, a condo, that was mine before I even met Nick. I sold everything in Anchorage, the house, the car, everything. The business was already gone by then, so once I was free and clear…” Eva shrugged. “I bought a ticket on the first plane out of Alaska.”

Will settled next to her with his tea. “But what have you been doing for the past…” He cocked his head, brow furrowed as he counted back in his mind. “Five years?”

“Nothing,” she said, “unless hiding is considered doing something.” She stared into her cup for a moment. “I felt better if I stayed out of sight, behind locked doors, no one hounding, questioning, following.” She shrugged. “I didn’t mind it, really, being alone. In the beginning, it was enough that I could get out of bed, read a book, prepare a meal. Eventually things got easier and I was doing okay. But for some reason, this past year it was different. I could feel myself sinking, drowning, in the memories, the silence. I knew things had to change before I got too lost to find my way back. Then, in the middle of a Chicago snowstorm, I saw a program on television about Australia.” For a brief moment, her eyes lit up. “I knew I had to go. Somehow I knew it was right, and I had to go. I left Chicago a few days later.”

“Wait. Back up. You became a recluse, in your condo...for five years?”

“I told you, when I left Alaska, I didn’t care what happened. I’d lost it all, everything I loved was gone--Nick, the business, climbing--and I just didn’t give a damn anymore. There was--” She stopped, narrowed her eyes. “You’re a fine one to talk!”

Will blinked. “Meaning?”

“Ten years? You flit around the globe for a decade, like some kind of aimless butterfly, and you think I’m weird?”

Abruptly he set down his cup, got to his feet and stalked to the mouth of the cave, standing just inside the opening. Oblivious to the cold air that eddied around him, he tried--and failed--to fight the inexorable tide of his memories. When Eva gently touched his arm, he started, his mind leagues, years, a lifetime removed from where he stood, too deep in his thoughts to realize she’d come to him.

“Will.” A whisper. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, especially not knowing your story.” When he didn’t answer, or turn to look at her, Eva stepped in front of him, the gusting wind shifting the two long braids that hung between her shoulder blades. Looking down at her, he slowly reached out, pulling them forward, their texture like velvet between his fingers as he slid his hands down the lengths of plaited hair. When he got to the tips, he gently tugged, bringing her into his arms. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he continued to stare silently out into the night.

Eva’s cheek pressed over Will’s heart, the steady, comforting beat as solid as his arms, now wrapped tight around her. It occurred to her that she hadn’t been held like this in a very long time; the thought brought an unexpected, painful sting to her eyes.

Will let out a breath, then quietly said, “I wasn’t flitting around the globe.” Eva tried to pull back, wanting to see his face, but he smoothly moved a hand up to keep her head against his chest. “I wasn’t flitting,” he said again. Pausing, wondering at this sudden compulsion he felt to tell her everything, to trust her with secrets no one else knew. “I was running. As far and as fast as I could. But no matter what I do, or how many years I’ve spent searching for absolution, trying to atone, doing my penance with every step, every breath, when I think surely I've done enough, still they always find me.”

“Who?” Eva breathed. “Who always finds you, Will?”

Gently he turned her away from him so they were both facing out into the darkness.  He put his hands on her shoulders, then lowered his head, whispering his words, bleak, harsh, incongruous with the soft caress of his breath on her neck, the feather-light brush of his lips on her ear. “Pain. Remorse. Regret. My constant companions.” 

Straightening, easing back slightly, Will said softly, "A long time ago, in college, I met a girl, we fell in love. A few years after we graduated, I was offered a very good job on the West Coast. I was eager to go, she wasn’t. Her life, all that mattered to her, was in Boston, not California where I saw my future. I broke things off with her, took the job and left town without once looking back.”

Eva could feel the movement as he shook his head, hear the self-disgust in his voice.

“A few months later, I got a call from her best friend. She told me to call Sara—that was her name. Sara. I was busy with the new job, starting a new life, I wasn’t interested in the past. Then, another month, another call. I told her to leave me alone, Sara and I were done, we’d moved on. I hung up on her.”

He bent his head again, hushed words drifted warm across her cheek. “I was selfish, rude, acted like such a jerk.  I could have—should have—behaved differently, been a better man. Christ, I owed Sara kindness, not cruelty, if for no other reason than we had once loved each other.” He ran a restless hand through his long, dark hair, then stepped past her to stand in the frigid wind, head back, staring up into the night sky.

After a few deep breaths, Will took Eva’s hand and drew her back into the warmth of the cave. Replenishing the fire, he sat next to her, one hand resting on her thigh as if to anchor himself. “The last call came about six weeks later. Sara’s friend told me to get my head out of my ass, and come back to Boston to deal with things. Before I could get a word in, ask her what the hell she was talking about, the line went dead.

“Now I was worried, confused. Something was obviously wrong, really wrong. I called our old house, expecting Sara to answer, but the phone had been disconnected.” Will sighed, weary. “I spent two days calling everyone I could think of. All I got for my efforts was an earful of grief about what a loser I was, and phones slammed in my ear more times than I care to admit. In the end, I really didn’t have a choice. I asked for time off work and flew back to Boston.”

The Nightmare

Part Four

April 27, 2012

The sound of water hissing on hot stone broke the kiss, though Will lingered for just a moment longer, his tongue gently touching the softness of her lower lip.  Drawing his head back, he looked into her eyes, gratified to see she seemed a bit dazed, glad the kiss hadn’t just affected him.  Reluctantly, he moved around the fire, kneeling to carefully tilt the MRE away from the heat.  As he prepared the second packet, he glanced across the flames, and got a jolt that seemed to spark something in his chest when their eyes locked.

Slowly raising a hand to her lips, she murmured, her voice husky, “That was the best…apology I’ve ever had.”

Will smiled.  “It was the best…apology I’ve ever given.”  Then he bent his head to stop staring at her like an lovesick dog, leaning the second meal on the stone before carefully adding more wood to the fire.

Eva noticed how Will dealt with every task: easy and assured, calmly getting the job done.  It was clear he was very familiar with this kind of life.  She wasn’t sure what to think about him, this great kissing man, who had just knocked her right off her feet.  Cocking her head, curious, she asked, “Why are you here?”

He spared her a quick look as he poked the fire, adjusting it to keep one packet warm as the other cooked.  Quietly he said, “I guess you might say I’m on a pilgrimage, though after ten years, I may be less a pilgrim than a nomad.”   Will smiled, though it was no more than a movement of lips, and didn't warm his eyes.

“Ten years?”  She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.  “Why?  What is it you’re still looking for after all that time?”

“It’s a very long story,” he said abruptly, “and not one I particularly want to talk about.”  He frowned, then muttered, “I don’t know why I even told you that much.”

Snorting, Eva said,  “Yeah, you really overwhelmed me, spilling your guts like that.  I don’t know how I’m going to handle all that information.”

Will tried to glare, but couldn’t stop the grin as he took in the flash of irritation in her eyes, the hint of impatience with his attitude.  “I didn’t mean to piss you off.”  His voice deepened; somehow she felt the vibration across the fire, in her stomach as he said, “Guess I'll need to apologize some more.”

“We’ll be holding off on that, Donovan,” she said quickly, then scowled when he laughed out loud.

Raising his hands in surrender, Will acquiesced.  “Okay, okay.  We'll start with dinner.”  He waited a moment, then casually murmured, “We’ve got all night to work on…apologies.”

Eva drew breath to sputter, then noticed the twinkle in his eye and the effort he was making not to laugh again.  Relaxing, she smiled sweetly.  “Yes, we do,” she said softly, “a long…very long…cold night.”  When his eyes widened, and she heard a loud, gulping swallow in the sudden silence, she burst out laughing.  For a second he wasn’t sure which way to go, then the sound of her laugh, low and slightly rough, led the way for him.  Laughing with her, he prepared to dish up.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Later, Will gazed at Eva as she sorted through her things—the mountain of things she had squirreled away in her clothes.  He still couldn’t believe it.  “How did this come about?” he asked, gesturing to her possessions.  “Have you always travelled this way?”

Smiling, she shook her head.  “I was in Pokhara, getting supplies, arguing with the Tourism Board about a guide, acclimating to the altitude and I was befriended by this old woman at the hostel where I was staying.”  She paused, remembering the ancient, wrinkled face, the toothless grin.  “I was having trouble with my pack—one of the load bearing straps had gotten ripped somewhere between Australia and here.  I didn’t want to buy a new pack, but I couldn’t get the strap fixed properly.  Then this woman sort of took me under her wing.”

“You speak the language?”

“No, but her great-granddaughter could speak English.”  She laughed softly.  “I ended up being more than just their paying guest.  They just…enfolded me into their world.  The food was wonderful, the family was huge; so nice, so helpful and kind.”  Her voice had dropped to a near whisper.

“What’s wrong,” Will asked softly.

“Oh, nothing really.  They were just good people.  Poor, but rich, you know?”

He had his own memories of people with nothing, and yet with everything that truly mattered.  “Yeah, I do.”

With a little smile, Eva began arranging her things in small, organized piles.  “The old woman, Nima, showed me the amazing usefulness of a native skirt and coat.”  Her eyes sparkled in the firelight.  “There are more pockets, nooks and crannies in these clothes than you could possibly imagine.”

“I couldn’t have imagined if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“Turns out, however, there is one tiny flaw in this mode of travel.” Eva said quietly.  When he raised a brow in question, she said, “I’m so used to my pack, how it feels on my back, between my shoulders, the balance, the weight; I know how to walk with it.   I wasn’t used to having all my things in pockets and compartments, so when I got hit with that huge gust of wind, I just sailed right off the edge of the mountain like some clueless amateur.”   She looked gravely at Will.  “If you hadn’t been there…”

“But I was there.”  He paused.  “When I was getting you off that rock, what did you mean about being hurt on so many levels?”

The corner of her mouth turned up a fraction as she gave him back his own words.  “It’s a very long story and not one I want to talk about.”

“Okay, I deserve that,” he conceded, but he waited, patient in the silence.

She was quiet for so long, Will thought that was the end of it.  He built up the fire while she fiddled with her gear, making more small piles, sorting into groupings that made sense to her.  Balancing her pockets, Will thought.

Finally, “I guess you might say I’m on a pilgrimage, too.”  Taking a deep breath, her voice low and quiet, “I used to be a mountain climber.  I’ve been all over the world, climbing was all I knew, what I loved.  About six years ago, I was on an expedition in Alaska to climb Mount St. Elias.”  She shot Will a look when he softly whistled.  “That’s a legendary climb,” he murmured.

She nodded in agreement.  “I was with a group of eight.  Two of the climbers should never have been allowed to be part of the group.  Once it was clear they were too disruptive, too cocky, they should have been sent back.  They were overbearing, wouldn’t listen to the guides, insisted on doing things their way, constantly questioned every decision.  They were a real threat to the success of the climb, and a danger to the group.”

Something was tickling in the back of Will’s mind.  Why did this seem familiar, a tale he already knew?

“At the start of the second week, we were approaching our last base camp to rest up for the final push.  That night there was an bad argument between the lead guide and the two men.  Nick was adamant that the group would wait, rest, relax before attempting the summit; they wanted to climb the next morning.”

“Nick?  Wait, I know this.  Nick Barlow.  He was killed—”  He stopped, saw the stricken look on Eva’s face.  “God, you were on that expedition?”  She just stared at him over the snap and crackle of the fire.  The story was coming back to him, the details, the senseless loss. “Those two guys went out on their own, got in serious trouble, and Barlow had to rescue them, isn’t that how it went down?”

“We tried to persuade him to wait for more rescue personnel, but he was the experienced lead on the scene, and it was his company, his expedition, his responsibility.  He knew if we waited for outside help, it would be too late.”  Her voice trembled.  “Nick died saving one man, the other was already dead when Nick found them.  Later, the families of the two men sued his business partner and his estate.  In the end everything was lost: Nick, his business, everything.”

Will knew there was more, some detail he was missing, though maybe it wasn't important now, after so much time had passed.  What did matter was Eva.  He couldn’t believe she'd been on that fateful trip.  It had to have affected her, deeply.  Gently, he asked, “Why are you walking the Annapurna?  What are you looking for?”

“Truthfully?  I don’t know anymore.”

He cleared his throat, unsure what to say.  “Talk to me, Eva.  Tell me what you’re doing here, how I can help you.”

Shadows under her eyes, a weariness in her voice, Eva stood, stretched her stiff muscles, rubbed a sore spot on her thigh, no doubt bruised in her fall, then said quietly, “I need sleep, Will.  Can we do that now?  Maybe talk tomorrow?”

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Nick hung upside down by a leg tangled in his climbing rope; the only thing at the moment keeping him from a thousand-foot fall.  Eva could see he was bleeding from a bad gash in his chin, the blood running in a red furrow into his eyes, dripping off his forehead.  She lay on her stomach, braced with ice screws, ropes and her ice axe, and looked into the crevasse with horror at Nick, hanging 20 feet below her with no way for her reach him.  His rope had snagged on a jagged edge of rock inside the deep cleft when the ice bridge had collapsed.  Without that accidental snag, Nick would already be gone.

“Nick!  Nick, can you hear me?”  She didn’t know how to get to him, how to pull him to safety.  She wasn't even sure he was alive.  Her heart thundered with fear.  “Nick, god damn it, answer me!”

As his body hung, swaying gently, Eva thought she heard a sigh, maybe a soft moan.  “Nick, it’s me, Eva.  Come on, talk to me if you can.  Help is coming!  You just have to hold on.”

She was half in the crevasse herself at that point, feeling the deep, eerie silence of the blue ice, hearing the slight creak of Nick’s rope as he moved in a ghostly breeze that seemed to come up from far, far below, sending chills into her soul.  How could this be happening?  My fault, my fault, my fault!

“Eva.”  The whisper seemed to waft out of the frigid air, ethereal, insubstantial. “Sorry…”

The harrowing dread was unbearable.  “Nick!  No!  Stay with me!  Nick!”

There was an odd tremble in the snow under her belly, small crystals of ice drifted past her face and fell in sparkling flashes toward Nick.  And then the crevasse seemed to shift, the rope holding Nick loosened, and slowly, snakelike, in a slithering nightmare of motion, it uncoiled from the rock.  As she screamed his name, over and over, Nick fell, gently, gracefully, into the depths of his frozen tomb.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

“Eva!  Oh god, baby wake up.  Please wake up!”  Will was rocking her tight in his arms, close enough he could feel her heart jackhammering in her chest, her mindless screams thick with horror and grief, pain and loss.

They had gone to bed in his little tent, cozy and warm from the fire, and though it was almost agony to lay so close to her, he consoled himself that at least she didn’t object when he spooned in behind her, tucking her body into his.  Murmuring into her hair, he told her it was to keep them both from hypothermia.  Her snort made him grin.  They had fallen almost immediately to sleep.

Until the screaming.

He rolled her over, took her face in his hands and began to kiss her frantically, whispering nonsense words, kissing her eyes, tasting the tears.  Her screams became moans, the moans gasps, and finally she seemed to hear him.  “Eva?  It’s Will.  I’m here, you’re not alone.”  Her breathing was harsh, ragged, but at least she was awake now.  Still kissing her—gentle, soothing touches—he breathed into her ear, “What was it?  Tell me what happened.”  Her body began to shake in the aftermath of the nightmare so he drew her closer still, giving her all the warmth he could.

“Nick,” she moaned.

“You had a nightmare about Nick?”  Again that niggling thought, that detail of something he just couldn't grasp.

“I saw him fall.  I was there when he fell.”  She hung onto Will’s shirt, her fists tangled in the fabric as she wept.

“It was just a nightmare.  Hush now, it was a bad, bad dream.”  And just like that, he remembered.  His heart lurched, he looked at her, and he remembered.  “You were Nick’s business partner.  You’re the one who was sued, lost the business, lost everything.  Oh, Eva.”

A tormented whisper. “Yes.  Me.  I lost the business, my home, everything.”  Her voice was raw from the screams.  “But I didn't care about that, none of it mattered.  How can anything matter after you've killed your husband?”

Pilgrims Progress

Part Three

Thursday, March 22, 2012

The howl of the wind was a distant murmur as he stood mesmerized by eyes like polished emeralds, a green so deep Will wasn’t sure there was a name for such a color; her dark lashes framed them in exquisite contrast. He couldn’t decide if her skin was actually the burnished tone of raw honey, or if she had come from somewhere below the Equator, where the sun was still hot enough to tan human hides. The long ear flaps on her native hat kept her hair hidden, though as the wind whipped the corded ties, he could see tendrils of rich mahogany. But it was her mouth that was killing him, making him weak-kneed and stupid as he stared. Full, lush. When she began chewing on her bottom lip, he wanted to fall at her feet, begging.

“What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?” the woman said, her eyes suddenly wary, her body tense, stiffening, though there was nowhere to go, or room to maneuver.

“Ah…” Will shook his head, hard. “Sorry. I can’t—” A sudden, violent gust of bitter wind slammed into them, jarring them both. It was the slap of reality he needed to get moving. Quickly he spun her around to face the rock wall, and spoke urgently into her ear, trying his best to ignore how she felt as he pressed into her back.

“I’m going to boost you high enough to get over the edge and onto the path. Stay flat on the ground until I pull myself up.”

The wind was savage, gaining in speed and intensity, and the light was fading. Will knew they had to get to the shelter soon. “Ready?” At her nod, he grabbed her hips and lifted her as far above his head as he could. When the full weight of her body slackened, he moved his hands down to her calves, heaving her the rest of the way onto the trail. “You okay?” he shouted.

On her stomach, she crawled to the edge to peer down at him. “Yes,” she said, her smile tentative as if she wasn’t exactly sure. “I might just stay on my belly for awhile though, if it’s all the same to you.”

Will chuckled as he easily hauled himself up the rope. Loosening it from the boulder, he sat on the ground next to her, wound it into tight loops, then strapped it back onto his pack. The wind was relentless now, cold and serious.

With the danger past, and on safe footing, they stared at each other for a moment, then Will said softly, “I think after all that excitement, we should maybe introduce ourselves.”

“Eva Wilder,” she said, “and you?”

“Will Donovan.”

With an easy smile, Will stood, holding out his hand to her. “There’s a shelter of sorts up ahead." Looking into the sky, judging how much time they had, he adjusted his pack between his shoulders and said, “We should hurry.”

She let him pull her to her feet, but before he turned away, she put a hand on his arm. “I don’t know how to thank you. You saved my life.” He could feel her fingers tighten, digging in, saw the flash of fear that crossed her face. Placing a hand over hers, he said quietly, “It was just pure luck I was behind you on the trail.”

Her eyes roamed over his face, searching. “Was it?” she murmured.

“What do you mean?”

Shaking her head, she bent to retrieve his walking stick. Admiring it for a brief moment, she handed it to him with a half smile. “Bet there’s a story behind this.”

“You have no idea.”

When another strong gust had her swaying against its force, Will again took her hand, and began to walk steadily up the trail, determined to find that shelter as quick as possible.

**********************************************

An hour later, sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, reveling in the warmth, and the relief of being out of the wind, Eva watched Will. He was big, strong, and seemed very confident and self-sufficient. His hair was dark, long, tousled from the wind; his eyes were blue, like the sky just as evening comes. There was no hardship in watching him move.

There had been a small stash of kindling and wood--along with some dried, cake-like things that Will said was Yak dung--stacked near a shallow fire pit in the stone floor. The cleft had turned out to be a surprisingly roomy small cave, and no doubt had provided shelter to many generations of indigenous people trekking these mountain trails. Will had put the tent in the back to take advantage of the residual heat as the fire warmed the rock walls, and was now digging in his pack for food.

With a dark scowl, he pulled out a narrow, flat stone, about ten inches long, two dehydrated packets of soup, and a bottle of water. Positioning the stone in the fire, he carefully propped it against a small log to keep it slanted. Eva watched with interest, though wondered what he was upset about.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Will looked across the fire at her, frown deepening. “It’s just occurred to me that you have no food, no pack, no gear.” He fairly growled, “What the hell are you thinking, coming out here, into these mountains, without proper gear?”

Calmly, Eva met his scowl with a cool amusement. The slight curl in the corner of her mouth seemed to add fuel to Will’s anger. His eyes burned with a fierce light as he glared at her. Quietly, she asked, “What makes you think I don’t have gear? Or that I’m unprepared?”

He snorted, waving his hand, the gesture encompassing the whole of her.

“Ah,” she said, “in your world, then, what you see is what you get?”

Will narrowed his eyes. He ran a sharp gaze over her. She was still wearing the hat, and a native coat and long full skirt over a pair of jeans. Under the coat he could see a thick wool sweater, and her hiking boots were sturdy, well-worn and cared for. Eva sat still under his scrutiny, though the curl had turned into a broad grin by the time he was finished.

“You might be dressed reasonably, for a short hike,” he conceded, “but not for doing the three week Annapurna Circuit.”

She watched as he made a slit in one of the food packets, poured in some water, then laid it against the hot stone in the fire. “I like that,” she said, nodding toward his improvised cook stove. “The Aborigines use a similar method to cook food, though not with prepared meals in packages, of course.”

Reaching inside her coat, she rummaged for a moment, then brought out a small, folded square of what looked to Will like something wrapped in a leaf. He watched as she peeled back the green frond and couldn’t help leaning closer to see what she was doing. “When the soup is ready, we can sprinkle some of these seeds into the mix. They'll add some zing, and are rich in calories.”

“So you carry weird spices in your coat. That hardly qualifies as a major food group.”

With a deep sigh, Eva got to her feet. “I will expect a heartfelt, truly sincere apology when I’m done,” she said. “I wouldn’t bother justifying myself to anyone else, but considering you saved my life and all…”

First in confusion, followed swiftly by amazement, then finally a jaw-dropping disbelief, Will watched her slowly shed a steady accumulation of packaged food, utensils, water, spare clothing--socks, underwear and two tee shirts--a book, journal, maps, several strange packets like the spices, a small pistol, bullets, folding knife, compact flashlight, space blanket, iodine tablets, antibiotics, first aid kit, and just when he thought there couldn’t possibly be one more thing, she lifted her skirt, dug in the back pocket of her jeans, and pulled out a silver flask.

Sitting down, she screwed off the cap, had a good swallow, then handed it across the fire to Will. He took the flask without hesitation, and took a long swig of a potent and extremely good whiskey, letting the fire burn down his throat while his eyes held hers. There was no way he could miss the smirk, and honestly, he deserved it.

Moving slowly around the fire, he crouched down, giving her back the flask. “I am humbled by your astounding ability to carry the equivalent of a hefty backpack on your person.” He shook his head, eyes raking over the gear heaped next to her. “I sincerely apologize, heartfelt and true.”

Eva smiled.“Very nice.” Then, raising a shapely brow, she said, “So, what you see isn’t necessarily all there is?”

“Not by any means,” he whispered, carefully leaning toward her, giving her time to stop him please don't stop me before putting a hand on her nape to pull her closer, wanting to taste that smile, needing to feel her mouth. He didn’t know who she was, what she would become to him, but he had saved her life, and according to some philosophies, she now belonged to him. And he just might be fine with that.

The Dreaming

Part Two

Friday, March 16, 2012

The plane landed with a jarring impact, bumping wildly on the tarmac. Eva was jerked sharply forward in her seat, the belt digging into her abdomen as she threw out her arms, bracing her hands against the back of the seat in front of her. It wasn’t enough that she’d been traveling for days, sleeping fitfully in stiff, plastic airport chairs while waiting for the next long flight as she crossed the world, but now with her destination in sight, the plane felt like it was going to sail right off the runway and crash into the Australian Bush.

Sighing with relief when the small twin-engine plane came to an abrupt stop, she unfastened the belt, grabbed her pack, and waited impatiently for the door to open. When it did, the furnace blast of heat that slammed into the confined space made her body instantly break out in sweat, while her mouth went dry with thirst. Stepping out onto the blistering asphalt, Eva could barely make out the entrance to the airport through the thick, undulating heat waves. How could it possibly be this hot so early in the day?Quickly pulling her sunglasses out of a shirt pocket, she covered her eyes from the intense glare and made her way to what she hoped was going to be an air-conditioned airport.

Wrong, again. The metal blades, whirling inside the old-fashioned wire cage of the fan sitting on the car rental counter, did nothing more than blow the hot pockets of hellfire into her already sweltering face.

A smile from the young, pretty Aboriginal woman behind the counter was cheerful, and sympathetic, as she looked at Eva. “You are not used to such heat?” she asked.

Wiping a hand across her forehead, Eva returned the smile. “Is anyone?”

The woman—Arika it said on her nametag—laughed, a soft chime of notes. “Let me hurry to assist you, so you may find coolness away from here.” She waited, then gave Eva an inquiring look.

“Oh, sorry,” Eva muttered, digging in the inside pocket of her hiking shorts for her passport and car reservation. Handing them over, she took a moment to breathe through the buzzing in her senses, trying to clear the surreal haze in her mind from days of travel, hours without sleep; the disjointed reality of being continents away from where she’d been just a short time ago.

When Arika cleared her throat, she realized a question had been asked. “I’m so sorry, it’s been a very long…ah, few days,” she finished lamely.

“I was just asking if you were staying here in Kalkirindji, or driving to a different destination.”

Wearily Eva said, “With any luck, I hope to be in a nice, cold shower later today at Kununurra.I’ve booked a hotel room there, but my goal is the Outback. I guess you could say I’m on a personal quest.”

Eyes wide, Arika said, “But you are not traveling alone?”

“Yes.”

“But, alone?”

Frowning, Eva said, “Is there a problem? I’m a very skilled hiker, and though I'm going to have to get used to this heat, I know better than to go anywhere without plenty of water, and I have the latest maps, if you’re thinking I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Arika stared at Eva for a long, speculative moment, apparently making up her mind about something. Briskly nodding her head, she grabbed a small piece of paper and quickly wrote down a name and address, handing it to Eva with a flourish.

Eva stared at the note, then raised her head, questions ready to tumble from her lips, but Arika spoke first. “You are here to walk the songlines. I see it in your eyes. But you need a guide. A woman guide. The songs are different for us, not like the songs for men. And you must never walk the songs alone when you are following the Dreaming. This woman lives on the outskirts of Kununurra; she knows more about songlines than any other.”

Eva was startled. She was on a journey, a search for purpose, trying to understand her past, the sad horrible dead past she couldn’t move away from. She had been deep into a bitter Chicago winter, living in a frozen world that reflected her spirit, her heavy heart, the despair eating at her, body and soul, when a television program had set her on this path. The Australian Outback. A vast, beautiful, ethereal, magical place, far removed from memories, death and anguish. She had leaped to her feet, heart pounding, suddenly knowing exactly what she had to do.

When Arika spoke again, Eva shook her head, bringing herself back from that shocking moment—was it truly just five days ago?—when she'd changed the course of her life. “Sorry...again. My mind's a bit foggy at the moment,” Eva apologized. Tucking the note into a pocket, she asked, “If I decide to call her, should I say you sent me?”

Arika shook her head. “She probably already knows you're coming.” Smiling, she said brightly, “You will like my auntie.” Her smile deepened. “Eventually.”


*********************************************

Many weeks later, Eva and Darri--the woman guiding Eva along the Dreaming tracks--were sitting on the ground, across from each other, the campfire between them illuminating the lines and grooves that covered the wizened old woman’s face. Her eyes were button-black, shot through with flickering red from the flames as she glowered at Eva.

Darri’s intense stares and blunt questions had bothered, irritated and outraged Eva many times over the course of their trek, but now she had grown accustomed to her ways. Eva had also recently come to realize that she had a more profound relationship with this brusque, no-nonsense old woman than she'd had with anyone else in her life. Darri had become her sister, her mother, her grandmother. It would be hard to leave when the time came.

“Tell me what you have learned, little lizard,” Darri said abruptly.

“Can you be more specific? I’ve learned so many things.”

Snorting, Darri snapped, “Tell me what you have learned, little lizard.” She narrowed her eyes, “And I will see when you try to burrow into the sand.”

Eva started to laugh, but noticed the scowl and bit her tongue. This was a serious question and she owed Darri a thoughtful, serious answer.

“I know how to live off the land, how to find food and water when it appears there is none.I can read the stars to find my way.” She lifted her eyes, taking in the glorious sight of the myriad lights twinkling overhead, unobstructed by man’s artifice. “I have walked on the woman’s path with you; I know the song and the land are one, and the Dreaming is the spirit of the people.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I will never forget this, Darri,” she whispered.

There was silence for a time, Darri’s piercing gaze never wavering from Eva's face, until finally she shook her head and barked, “But what have you learned?”

“Well, I…” she hesitated, unsure.“I just told you.”

A loud tsk of sound between her teeth. “Have you found your purpose? Is your path clear to you? Has your heart found its rhythm? Do you see where you’re going when this Walking is over? Is your mind unclouded?”

Eva stared at the old woman, her sense of renewal, of healing, dissipating faster than smoke up a chimney. She fought the swamping awareness of defeat washing over her in painful, oh so familiar waves, but her tears welled up from deep inside and she was helpless to stop them.

Gently, Darri said, “You must come out of the burrow, frightened little lizard.”

Crying now, her misery and despair returning with a vengeance, she begged, “Tell me what I’m supposed to do. How do I find my way? Help me, please.”

Shaking her head, sorrow in her eyes, Darri said, “I cannot. You must find the way for yourself.” As Eva continued to sob, she came around the fire and put her arms around the weeping woman, rocking her slowly as the night deepened, and the fire burned to embers.

Quiet, the night sounds muted by the enormity of the landscape, Darri whispered into Eva’s ear, “I will tell you this: I see much snow and cold. Your destiny waits for you, in a strange, hostile land where the mountains pierce the sky.”

Eva sniffed, wiped her sleeve across her damp eyes, and murmured, “I’m supposed to climb Mount Everest?”

Darri chuckled.“No, the Ancestors wouldn’t be so foolish. But there is a place, a different Dreaming, where many seek answers. If you open your eyes, see with your heart, you might find yours.” She gave Eva a soft, gentle kiss in the center of her forehead; it felt like a blessing. “Our time is done, little lizard. Tomorrow our paths will cross no more.”

Pilgrimage

Part One

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Will tramped up the steep incline, eyes lifted to his destination: the distant snow capped peaks, and the pass at Thorong-La. He was hiking solo, though earlier had stopped in a small village, taking a short break with a group of German trekkers who were going in the opposite direction, heading back down to earth after breathing the rarefied air three miles above sea level.

He had chosen early December for a reason—less people, still fairly good weather—and after a heated discussion, he’d managed to travel without the guide the Nepal Tourism Board had tried to foist on him. Solitude was crucial for this pilgrimage; his sanity was at stake as he struggled in a seemingly endless quest for his raison d’etre. He was weary, his spirit languishing, fading like a tiny firefly captured in a Mason jar.

Instead of meditating, as he usually did while hiking, he let his mind chatter, drift, travel where it wished as his long legs easily climbed the mountain path.

Years, so many years on the road. Searching…for what? Enlightenment, understanding? After the accident—No. He stopped on the trail, forcing his mind away from that pain, those memories. His hand gripped the walking stick with a grim, white-knuckled resolve as sweat beaded on his brow. Dropping his head, he took a long, deep breath, stomach tightening, knotting, until the carvings on the stick caught his attention.

They were intricate, symbolic, laden with significance, ensorcelled with protective charms. The shaman of the small African tribe in Kenya where he’d stayed for several months had become a friend; had worried over him, given him the walking stick to aid him on his journey, real and spiritual. Will had carried it for over ten years now, an extension of his arm, an integral part of his life. He smiled, ran his hand down the swirls and glyphs, each one charged with purpose, thankful he’d had such a friend to give him this treasured gift.

Calm now, composed, he shifted the pack on his back, straightened his spine and continued his ascent.

Getting into the zone, one foot following the other, his thoughts again wandered, taking him to India and the small orphanage where he’d helped with the children, their awe at his size, long hair and low, deep voice that mesmerized. Japan, and the ancient Buddhist monks, welcoming a giant into their midst, then smiling shyly behind their hands when he insisted on cooking, too polite to mention his rice was sticky and half raw. Spain, traveling with the Basque in their colorful caravans, dancing wild in the moonlight around roaring fires. Harvesting grapes in France, olives and lemons in Italy, herding reindeer in Iceland, farming salmon in Norway. He’d been around the world, lived in ashrams, communes, monasteries, tribal villages, igloos and huts. Yet still he searched, still he remained a nomad. Homeless. Alone.

When a sharp, cold breath of wind slapped his hair into his eyes, he looked up from the trail and realized as he’d been steadily climbing, the weather had changed, growing dark with clouds though it was just early afternoon. He increased his pace, knowing from a conversation with one of the German hikers that there would be a shelter coming up, a natural cleft in the rock, big enough for his one-man tent where he could light a fire and spend the night off the trail.

Rounding a bend, he was surprised to see a figure ahead of him, buffeted by the force of the wind. The person was slight, possibly a native woman judging by her colorful dress and jacket. Then he frowned, narrowing his eyes to get a clearer picture. Local women didn’t wear western jeans under their dresses. He took a deep breath to shout out his presence when a strong gust slammed into the woman, tipping her off balance. He watched, stunned, as she toppled off the trail and disappeared over the edge.

“Oh shit,” he barked, racing to the spot where she’d dropped from sight, certain he would see her shattered body lying in the ravine far, far below the mountain path. His mouth fell open in astonishment when he peered over the brink to see the woman, several feet below him, legs dangling over the side of an outcropping barely wide enough to hold her slim upper body. Her fingers were white, the bones nearly coming out of her skin as she gripped the crumbling edge of the stone with every ounce of strength she had, her breath rasping in short, hard bursts of terror.

“Hold on! I’m coming!” Will yelled, ripping open a Velcro strap on his backpack that held a mountaineering rope.

She jerked in surprise to hear his voice, nearly letting go of her precarious hold. Scrabbling to maintain her purchase, she cried out, “Oh, god, please hurry!”

Quickly securing the rope to a large boulder, he made a loop with the other end, wrapping it around his waist, preparing to rappel down to the woman. “Okay,” he said evenly, though anxiety was laced through his voice, “here I come.”

He carefully edged over the rim, the wind briefly knocking him off track, but his correction was immediate and he swiftly dropped the short distance, angling behind her. Wrapping a strong arm around her hips, he tried to pull her upright into his body, but she wouldn’t budge. “Let go now,” he said in her ear. She shook her head. He gave her body a hard tug, breaking her grip. Before she could reattach herself to the stone, he swung them both onto the outcropping, pressing her into the rock face as they knelt to catch their breath.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his large frame tucked over hers, sheltering her from the worst of the wind, her heart hammering through her body into his chest.

“On so many levels, it just doesn’t bear thinking about,” she sighed, her voice muffled as she rested her head against the rock.

Will blinked. What? “How about this,” he said, “are you hurt from your fall?”

“No, just some scrapes.”

“Okay, let’s get off this rock and back on the trail, then I can look at your scrapes.” He carefully stood, bringing her up with him, the path level with the top of his head. It would be quick work to get them off this ledge.

Shifting his stance, he adjusted his arms to boost her up, but she turned, giving him his first clear look at her face. As their eyes met, his world suddenly tilted, his inner axis throwing him so far off balance he felt his knees begin to buckle, his heartbeats a deafening roar in his ears, drowning out the strengthening howl of the wind.