Far Country (8 page)

           
“Well, that about covers it,” Steve concluded as he parked his truck in front
of the Graham’s campsite. Hester Graham was at the grill, flipping hamburgers.
Steve saw a pint of potato salad on the picnic table, as well as a jug of sweet
tea and a freshly sliced cantaloupe, carefully covered with plastic to keep the
flies off. She waved and turned her attention back to the burgers.

Reverend
Graham sat beside Steve in the truck. They had just toured the park, walking
down the gravel path to view the rocky waterfall of the Lower Cascades,
strolling through the interpretive scenes at the Visitor’s Center, staring up
at the rock that had given the park its name, and even wading out into the
chilly water of the lake. 

Steve
had introduced Reverend Graham to several of the rangers that were on duty. The
lanky, white-haired pastor had already begun developing a rapport with the
staff, with his quick smile and warm handshake. Unlike Steve, Reverend Graham
never seemed to be at a loss for words once introductions had been made. Thus,
the ‘short tour’ had stretched to nearly two hours. Steve had learned things
about his fellow rangers in mere minutes that he had never had thought to ask,
even though he had worked with some of them for several years. With the
required tour finished at last, Steve was looking forward to dropping the
pastor off and retreating to his office.  But Reverend Graham remained in
the passenger seat.

           
“Yep,” Reverend Graham agreed, stretching his arms over his head. “You have a
beautiful park here. I can’t wait to go skinny dipping with Hester tomorrow
morning. I bet the sunrise from the pond is spectacular.” He sighed in a tone
so full of anticipation, that Steve could not stop himself from turning toward
the older man and staring at him to see if he was actually serious. 
Reverend Graham met the Steve’s incredulous gaze and held it – for about two
seconds.  Then his serious dark eyes exploded into a merry twinkle.

           
“Gotcha!” he said, grinning at Steve’s confusion, then his face sobered again.
“That was the first time you have looked me full in the face in the whole two
hours we have been together,” he said gently.  “We’ve got a lot of summer
ahead of us to be tiptoeing around something that happened over five years
ago.  I understand your discomfort, Steve, but I hope that we can move
beyond those days.  If not,” he added watching Steve closely, “we are in
for a long miserable summer.”

           
Steve flushed with embarrassment.  It had always disconcerted him, the way
the man had of reading his thoughts, and putting them into words. After a
minute Steve sighed and pointedly looked Reverend Graham in the face. It amazed
him how little the man had changed in the last five years, while Steve felt he
himself had aged at least fifty.

           
“You are right, of course, sir. I didn’t mean to be rude.” He winced inwardly
at how stilted the words sounded.

           
Reverend Graham placed a fatherly hand on Steve’s shoulder, ignoring the
automatic stiffening under his touch.  “Don’t apologize. To tell the
truth, if you hadn’t felt a little uncomfortable, I’d have been a lot more
concerned.  That was a difficult time for you and I’m a direct reminder of
all that pain. What you are feeling is a normal reaction. I just hope you and I
can work together, despite it all.”

           
Steve pursed his lips and looked out the window at the campsites. His mind
ached as he recalled the long hours that Reverend Graham had spent with him. In
response to the paramedic’s call, he had been waiting at the hospital when the
ambulance brought them in, and he had stepped between him and David when his
best friend had attacked him outside of Sarah’s room. How many hours had he sat
with Steve, listening to him pour out his guilt and remorse?

           
Still looking out the window, Steve spoke in a low, hesitant voice. “You were a
big help to me back then. I probably never seemed it, but I did appreciate all
you tried to do – to talk with David and his family and all...” Steve’s voice
trailed off. 

           
Reverend Graham allowed the silence to continue for a moment as he studied
Steve’s averted face. “I’m sorry they never came around. I think shunning you
has hurt them far more than it has you,” he said seriously. Then he
smiled.  “I’m just pleased to see you haven’t let it ruin your life.
You’ve gone on to do something good here. I am proud of you.

“But
now,” he said, pushing open the door, “we have loved ones waiting and
hamburgers frying on the grill. I’m starved!” He turned back and grinned
conspiratorially at Steve.  “I am particularly thankful for this summer –
Hester had to leave that George Foreman grill at home for once!”

           
Steve grinned back, but then turned the ignition key as the pastor slammed the passenger
door. The growl of the engine seemed to startle Reverend Graham, and he turned
back to Steve, leaning in the window. “Hester’s cooked enough for three
campsites, as usual.  Won’t you stay for lunch?”

           
Steve shook his head. “I’ve got some paperwork to finish, but thanks just the
same. You have my cell phone number, if you need anything, right?”

           
Robert Graham studied him for a moment before stepping back from the truck. He
didn’t buy the paperwork excuse, Steve knew, but he didn’t push the invitation.
“Tomorrow then, thanks for the tour.”

           
Steve managed a cordial nod and pulled back onto the road, forcing himself the
drive at a sedate 15 mph, instead of flooring the gas
peddle
the way he wanted to. Minutes later, he parked the truck outside the Visitor’s
Center and strode into his office, shutting the door.  He stood at the
window, staring up at Moore’s knob. He wished with all of his heart that he
could walk out of the door and just keep on walking.  Reverend Graham didn’t
understand a thing, really. What he had done with his life, he had done waiting
for Sarah to come back to him; to be ready for when she came out of that coma.
The Reverend wanted him to ‘get past that summer’. Didn’t he know that his life
had stopped with Sarah’s? To get past it would betray his love for her!

Unbidden,
his fingers wrapped around the velvet bag in his pocket, feeling the familiar
shape of the ring through the cloth. It was like a worry stone.  He’d
rubbed the nap right off in some places. He wondered what Robert Graham would
really think about how well he was doing, if he knew that Steve had carried an
engagement ring in his pocket ever since the accident.
Probably call it
fool’s gold
, he reflected.  Only a fool would still dream of marrying
a girl who had spent the last five years in a coma.
As if,
Steve thought
bitterly,
she would want anything to do with the man who had put her in the
coma in the first place!

           
Slowly, he untied the bag and opened it.  The diamond was tiny, really.
Just a chip.   He couldn’t afford anything more back then.  He’d
planned to tell her that was just a glimmer of what he hoped he would be able
to give her one day, if she said yes…Steve pushed away the daydream with an
effort, angry with himself for indulging that particular fantasy one more
time.  He supposed he must look pretty pathetic. 

           
He stared down at the ring. 
Over five years, and not a word, not a
hint of a change in her condition, or in her family’s steadfast refusal to allow
him to visit her.

           
Was Reverend Graham right?  Was it time? Not to give up, but to set the
past aside. Could he?
  Slowly,
Steve slipped the ring back into the worn blue velvet bag. He set it on the
bookshelf  by his office door, then deliberately turned his back on it and
sat down behind the disk. He picked up the report he had been working on that
morning and began filling in the blanks.

           
Fifteen minutes later, Jill knocked at his doorway.  “Steve, we just had a
hiker report that a boy fell and twisted his ankle pretty bad on the Hanging
Rock trail. The parents are having difficulty getting him down.”

           
Steve stood up quickly, relieved to have something to do.  “I’ll go pick
him up.  Did they say how far up he is?”

           
Jill shrugged. “They weren’t exactly sure, but he is off the top.”

           
“That will make it easier.” He walked to the door and reached for the keys to
his truck. Most of the trail was graveled, and wide enough to drive to within a
half a mile of the summit. As he lifted the keys from their hook, he hesitated,
his hand hovering inches from the velvet pouch on the shelf.  The battle
lasted only seconds. With an angry oath, he scooped up the ring and restored it
to its customary pocket, then hurried out the door to the truck.

           
Chuck stuck his head in Steve’s office around 9:00.  “Tubing after we get
off today, you in?”

           
Steve looked up from his latest stack of paperwork.  He raised an eyebrow
and looked pointedly out of the window.  “It’s been raining for four days,
amigo.”

           
Chuck blinked. “So what’s your point?”

           
“Besides the fact that it is
still
raining?” Steve replied in
exasperation. “If nothing else, the water will be incredibly cold!”

           
Chuck shook his head in mock disgust. “Who’d have believed it? Only four weeks
behind the desk and you’ve gone soft!  I’ll be sure to get you a pipe and
bunny slippers for Christmas,”  he said, shaking his head he turned to go.

           
“Fine!” Steve replied, stung by Chuck’s words. “
I
can hack it; I just
didn’t want to hear
you
whine for two hours!”

           
Chuck looked offended.  “Me? Whine? I think you’re confused.  I don’t
whine.”

           
Steve snorted. “Yeah, right,” he muttered under his breath. He sighed in
resignation. “Who else is coming?”

           
“Just about everyone – and all the girls!” Chuck promised with a grin. 
“We’ll have a regular flotilla”

           
“I can’t wait,” Steve muttered darkly as Chuck disappeared from sight,
whistling cheerily down the hall.  He studied the sky dubiously.
If it
didn’t clear up soon, it would be one miserable trip!
  He started to
check in with NOAA, but then he decided against it. He was going, rain or snow
or tornado! In the meantime, he could at least
hope
it would clear
up… 

           
Steve checked his watch.  A lot could happen in six hours. It was
possible... 

           
As it turned out, a line of thunderstorms rumbled through the park around
noon.  After an earsplitting half hour the sky cleared and the sun beat
down almost abnormally hot, as if attempting to make up for four days of
drizzle in just three hours.

           
Steve left the Visitor’s Center and returned to his trailer to change, the sun
hot on his neck.  He slipped on his trunks, an old T-shirt and a pair of
holy sneakers that he kept just for tubing, in case he had to wade through any
of the sections. It was doubtful after all the rain, but you never knew.

           
The Dan River was a lazy ribbon of water that wound through the park and passed
through the center of town. One of the small grocery stores, strategically
located at a bend in the river across from the city park, did a booming
business with the tourists, renting out inner tubes and transporting groups to
a drop point four miles upriver.

           
After so much rain there were few tourists interested in tubing, so the manager
was both surprised and  pleased to see the group of young rangers, albeit
a much smaller group than Chuck had claimed were coming, waiting to sign
in.  In minutes they loaded onto the converted school bus and were headed
toward the boat ramp that served as the starting point for the float.

           
Steve, Chuck and Pete had often made the trip down the river.  Sprawling
in a rubber inner tube, traveling no faster than the easy flowing river current
was a pleasant way to relax for a few hours on a day off. But today, looking at
the river as they unloaded their tubes from the back of the bus, Steve was
pretty sure he was not looking forward to the trip.

           
The storms had churned up the red brown mud from the river bottom, making the
water opaque and unpleasant to look at. It was deeper too, several inches
higher than usual. Steve watched a leaf speed by the ramp and disappear in to a
little whirlpool of river trash fifty feet beyond.  This would hardly be
the laidback passage the group was expecting.

           
Jill and Deb, tubes in hand, joined him at the water’s edge and gazed dubiously
at the muddy flow.

           
“This is the ‘cool float’ that y’all claim is so relaxing?” Jill asked
incredulously.

           
“Oh, I guarantee the cool part,” Steve replied. “I don’t know about relaxing
though. She’s running high from all the storms.”