TWO

 

 

August 3rd, 2018

Boise, Idaho

 

PROFESSOR SOPHIE SILVERMAN sat on the grass in the shade of a small poplar tree watching the people in inner tubes and on small rafts and air-mattresses float by in front of her on the Boise River.

The river was about as wide as Broadway in New York City and the water was clear and blue and reflected the bright sun. The air near the river smelled of dampness and had a slight fish odor that was actually pleasant, reminding her of days at the beach in New Jersey.

The ages of the people going by were from elderly to very young children and everyone seemed to be smiling and having a good time. Clearly all were very relaxed, seemingly without a care in the world. All of the younger children had on bright orange life jackets and a few of the elderly did as well.

From large yellow numbers on the sides of the inner tubes and small rafts, it appeared most of the flotation devices were rented.

Many of the small tubes and mattresses were tied together like a floating party and numbers of dogs sat on their own small platforms, drifting past with their people.

She loved dogs; just hadn’t had time or felt settled enough over the last ten years to get a dog again.

The warm afternoon sun had baked many of the rafters by the time they got to her location, and she had no doubt a few of them would be wishing they had used more suntan lotion tomorrow.

But from where she sat up on the grassy bank, it sure seemed like fun. From what she understood, the rafters took busses from the Julia Davis Park area just down the river from her and rode up to Barber Park about six miles up the river. From there, they could rent rafts or inner tubes and drift downriver to Julia Davis Park, going over a few rapids along the way, but nothing really dangerous.

Mostly the float was just a wonderful time to relax and get away from the world on the calm, cold water as it wandered through tree-lined banks.

From an article she had read in the Boise Statesman newspaper, sometimes thousands of people on a nice summer weekend were floating the river at any given time. She could see why. What a wonderful way to spend a lazy summer afternoon.

Sophie adjusted her wide-brimmed floppy hat to make sure it covered her fair skin. She had short, pitch-black hair and skin so white she swore she glowed at night. And not a blemish on her skin either, which meant she didn’t just tan, she went from white to bright red and painful if she wasn’t careful.

That was one of the reasons she hadn’t tried the river float yet this summer. And on top of that, she wasn’t much of a swimmer, so she wanted to be with other people, but in her six months in this wonderful city, she had been so busy with her research, she just hadn’t made many friends.

She had come to love Boise, with its warm, dry days and chilly nights. Everything about the city seemed to be beautiful, from the rafters in front of her to the mountains beyond the city in the distance.

The city was full of trees and seemed to be more like an oasis tucked down in a valley between tall mountains on one side and barren desert on the other.

It was a far, far cry from her home in New Jersey.

She had been born and raised in the small town of Phillipsburg in western New Jersey. In a few places, Boise reminded her of her hometown, mostly in the historic downtown area, but compared to Boise, Phillipsburg barely filled one neighborhood.

Both cities had rivers as well. But the Delaware River was nothing at all like the wonderful clear blue waters of the Boise River in front of her.

And the air in Boise was dry. Scary dry, actually.

Here on the edge of the desert, she had gone through tubes of Chapstick in just the first week, and moisturizing lotion sometimes seemed to just soak into her skin faster than she could apply it.

Humidity was called high here when it reached thirty percent. In her home town, that would have been the driest day on record.

But now, after four months, she had to admit, she liked the dry better. And she loved how it cooled down at night and when a storm came in, it actually cooled things off instead of making the air more sticky and hot.

“Professor Silverman?” a deep voice said from the sidewalk on the top of the grassy slope behind her.

She turned around and then scrambled to her feet.

“Director Parks,” she said, moving up and standing on the edge of the wide sidewalk beside him.

“Hope I didn’t startle you,” he said, smiling.

Parks was the director of the Institute for Historical Research, the reason she was here in Boise. He had broad shoulders and seemed to be about thirty, with short-cut hair and a smile that seemed to always reach his eyes. He towered over her five-five height. She liked him and his wife Kerri a great deal.

Both Sophie and Parks had on what seemed to be the standard uniform of the summer in Boise. Jeans, tennis shoes, and light shirts. She also had on over a light blouse a light jacket in case she ended up sitting in air-conditioning at one point or another. Plus it kept the sun from burning her through her blouse.

He wasn’t wearing a hat, but he often wore a cowboy hat that made him look more like he should be riding a horse instead of directing the most prestigious research facility in the world.

“Didn’t startle me at all,” she said, indicating the constant flow of rafters going past. “Just enjoying the show for a short time.”

Parks smiled. “It’s great fun and very relaxing. Have you tried it yet?”

“I want to,” she said. “Just haven’t taken the six hours needed to put on enough suntan lotion on this white skin.”

He laughed. “Yeah, good point. The sun on that river can really burn a person faster than normal. But still worth it.”

“I hear a voice of experience in that warning,” she said.

“Hard earned,” he said, laughing.

Then his face got serious. “I need your help on something if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Anything,” she said.

That had stunned her. Why Director Parks would need her help was beyond her. She had felt that over the last four months she had barely been noticed by anyone else at the institute. She had just spent days and nights buried in her research and often barely managed to stagger back to her condo to fall into bed with exhaustion.

“Good,” he said. “Thanks. We have a new researcher applying for a position this afternoon. His area of expertise and study is similar to yours and we were hoping after we accepted him, you could show him the ropes and help him get settled.”

She wasn’t sure if having another researcher close to her area of study was good or bad, so she flat decided to ask.

She stammered out her question and Parks laughed. “Actually, not in the slightest. That’s why we figured you could help him get up to speed not only with Boise and the library and the living situation, but with some of his work. We like having more than one person working in similar areas and that’s one of the reasons we are going to accept him, not counting the fact that he is a brilliant researcher.”

“What exactly is his focus on his research?” she asked.

“His name is Doctor Olsen Wade,” Parks said. “He’s got an MD, but also degrees in history and teaches history at UCLA. His passion is the research of the medical condition of men in the Old West.”

Sophie laughed. Her area was family life and women of the Old West, so the Director was right, her area and Doctor Wade’s focus were similar. And matched in many ways.

“I’ll be glad to help him get up to speed here,” Sophie said.

“Wonderful,” Parks said, indicating they should head toward the institute about a half-mile up the river from where they stood.

The walk was wonderful, the conversation with the director light and about the rafters floating past.

In all her years of college and then teaching for three years at the University of Massachusetts, she had never expected to be this happy with life in general.

There was just something about being free to do her research as she wanted.

And about Boise and the warm, dry summer days.