Chapter 28

 

I had no clue what—aside from pizza, fast food and soda—these girls ate. Sandwiches seemed tricky. I could make four kinds and still get it wrong, so I opted to toss a couple of cheeses, a small salami and some fruit into a little cooler. Sodas and bottled water rounded out the offering, which I hoped covered the choices well. It wouldn’t surprise me if she bailed anyhow and I ended up putting it all back in the fridge.

I carried the cooler out to my Jeep, checked the gas tank and was teasing Freckles with the promise of a car trip when I saw Clover come out to her front porch. This was the moment of decision. She caught sight of the dog and came walking toward us. See? Pets really are the world’s ambassadors.

Clover climbed into the passenger seat, turning to reach over the console and pet the dog, who wriggled with excitement at our newfound company as I backed out of the driveway. We hit the freeways, exited at Tramway and watched for the turnoff to the Juan Tabo picnic area and head of the La Luz trail. I hated to admit how many years it was since I’d been here, and I hoped I would recognize the turn.

My guest didn’t seem to notice. She answered my conversation attempts with monosyllables and kept checking her phone. As bonding experiences go, this might not have been such a great idea. I found a parking spot and pulled in, ordering Freckles to stay in the back while I got organized, making sure the food cooler sat in a shady spot. I pulled out my cell phone.

“Let’s leave our phones here,” I said, putting my phone into the glovebox. “All week long I work in an office where the thing rings all the time, always someone wanting a piece of me. When I get out in nature, it’s so great to ditch it and just listen to the birds and the wind.”

She looked a little panicky.

“Once we get partway up the trail there’s probably no signal anyway,” I said.

“What if we need help?”

“Someone will come along. It’s a popular trail.” Mine was probably the last generation who would ever remember the freedom of being completely unconnected.

“I’ll just zip mine into my pocket,” she said.

If she’d been my kid I could have made it an order, but she wasn’t, so I let it go. We started up the easy slope of the first section of trail. The full trail goes all the way to the top of Sandia Peak at ten-thousand-plus feet with some steep places which, this time of year, could still have snow on them, but my plan included no such heroics. Unless we felt especially inspired and hearty, I figured we would go the first half-mile or so, turn around and come back. A mile at this altitude feels farther than you think.

“I used to hike this trail quite a bit when I was your age,” I told my companion. “Getting out like this was like the perfect antidote to school where I had all these classes on tax regulations. In fact, I think I was coming up on my accounting exams the day I hiked out here and ran into you guys with Elsa.”

“That was funny,” she said with a tiny smile. “Mrs. Higgins had her hands full with us, I guess. We’d run up the trail a ways and she would call out and tell us to stay in sight. We laughed and made a game of staying just beyond the limit. She got us when she turned around and walked away. We were watching from behind a big rock and saw her heading down the hill. Oh my god, we got so scared she would drive away and we’d have to walk all the way home.”

“I know. Even in her eighties she could do so much. She’s amazing.”

“We sneaked back down, watching to see what she would do. I was ready to scream and run to catch up with her car, but Zayne was all brave, talking about how yeah, we’d hitchhike home if we had to.”

“Elsa would have never, ever left you girls up here.”

“Yeah, I know that now. But, you know, to a kid—” Her eyes misted over, her lower lip quivering.

“Her brownies used to get me to come running.”

Clover blinked twice, coming back to the present. “Yes. That’s exactly what she did. She got to her car and opened the trunk and we heard her say ‘Now where did I put those brownies?’ and we came racing down the hill.”

I laughed over the memories and Freckles leaped around in circles, flushing a few quail from behind a bush. They ran across the trail, heads bobbing, tiny legs skittering a million miles an hour.

“Dang,” I said. “I wish I’d had brownies to put in our lunch today. You’re making me hungry.”

We came to the bend in the trail where I’d planned to turn around. The view from here was spectacular, with the city spread out below yet looking close enough to toss a pebble and land it in one of the major streets.

“We need a selfie of the two of us,” Clover said, unzipping her jacket pocket.

Had the girl actually begun to think of me as a friend? Wow.

She stepped close to me and stretched her arm with the camera facing us. Her pensive smile flashed bright for the photo.

“I’ll Friend you on Facebook so you can see it. Bet we get a ton of Likes.”

For one moment I wondered what it would be like to be nineteen again, so young and carefree. She posed another shot to get the panorama behind us, although most likely not a lot of it would show. We headed down toward the picnic area.

“I’ll get the food,” I said when we arrived back at the picnic tables. “You guys stake out a spot for us.”

The dog wiggled with excitement. Clover took the leash and the two of them began examining the choices, looking for the best spot. I caught up with them at the site highest above the parking lot. I’d remembered to include a plastic tablecloth—you never know what condition public tables will be—and I spread it wide across the concrete surface. When I brought out the goodies, Clover’s eyes lit up.

“Cool—an actual adult picnic. Not that I wouldn’t have been okay with peanut butter sandwiches,” she amended quickly.

I found it oddly endearing that she cared enough to insert the little politeness.

“We aim to please,” I joked, handing her the cheese knife while I unscrewed the tops on the water bottles. “Too bad Zayne wasn’t around to come along with us.”

A shadow passed over her face, something I couldn’t interpret. A wariness, perhaps a dread that I would get into more of the same old questions.

“Oh, well, more food for us,” I leaped in to say. “Her loss.”

She sat stock-still for a full minute, her expression far away. Again, I couldn’t read her thoughts but hated that we’d lost the lighthearted moment.

“Look, there’s a roadrunner,” I said, pointing about ten yards away.

The change of subject brightened Clover’s face again. Luckily, the dog was still leashed and I distracted her with a tidbit of the cheese while the bird ran out of our sight.

“Let me see the pictures again,” I said when Clover brought out her phone.

She turned it to face me and I reached out and swiped through them. She had a flair for this, good camera angle, great lighting. She’d captured a candid shot of me and Freckles at some point up the trail. I’d never realized she was aiming toward us. It was an appealing picture of the moment when I let the dog off the leash and she’d licked my face.

“You’re pretty good at photography,” I told her. “Ever thought about a career of it?”

“Oh, I don’t know … I, um, haven’t really thought much about the future. Zayne thought about getting into the film industry, doing something like my parents. They know a lot of people.”

As she talked, I swiped back through the photos one more time. Before today’s outing there were shots from the river party. I recognized Missy, the girl from the dorm, and the boy I’d seen at their house a few times. Before the party, there were shots taken inside the Delaney house—one twin about to bite down on a huge pizza slice, feet modeling a pair of new red shoes. One more swipe and I nearly dropped the phone.

Clover continued to drop famous names as she talked about her parents.

The photo on the screen showed Zayne sweeping her hair upward with one hand. She stood with her shoulder toward the camera, rear end jutted out, knees flexed in a model-like pose. The little tattoo was clearly visible. So was everything else, since she wore nothing but the red shoes.

I must have reacted because Clover looked back at me. I quickly swiped back to today’s photos. C’mon, Charlie, don’t be a prude. They’re not your kids. It’s not your place to form judgments.

I stared again at the photo of me and my dog. “Hey, can we email this one to me?” Drake’s birthday was coming up and a framed photo like this one would make a great gift.

Clover looked at the picture. “Yeah, that’s a good one. You and Freckles were so cute together.”

I put my email address in and tapped a couple of buttons, sending the picture on its way. “Thanks. It was nice of you to take that shot.”

She basked a little at the praise, and I wondered again how these girls, given such complete freedom at their young age, received their guidance and validation in life. I may have been on my own fairly young, but I had the stability of school and nearby family. I thought of the thousands of little compliments and smiles Elsa had given me over the years. I needed to show more gratitude for it.