Enchantment (17 page)

“They had a flyer up in the lobby. Everything's starting this week. I thought about going out for drama club, but the paper sounds more fun.”

“If it's not too much work.”

“Well, I can always quit if I get tired of it.”

Mom asked about Dad's day and the conversation drifted away from Holly, which was fine with her. She finished her lasagna and helped herself to seconds on salad, then cleared the plates and helped Mom dish up spumoni and biscotti for dessert. When that was done, she hurried through her chores, finishing up just before nine.

Alone in her room at last, Holly got out her laptop and surfed for information about the Conservation Corps. What she found was at least partly promising; some CCC projects had been given historical preservation status. Not all, though. She'd have to argue that the spring had some significance if she was going to get the destruction postponed.

She read through her copies of the Forest Service report again, looking for any detail she could protest. There wasn't much, but she made a few notes, and poked around in Amanda's book for some quotes about the spring.

She wound up rereading the village maiden story. It seemed obvious now that Amanda and Ohlan had been lovers, and that it was their love that had inspired the story. This time Holly didn't feel jealous, though. Amanda was long gone, and Ohlan hadn't had anyone since. If anything, Holly felt sorry for him, and determined to make his life more pleasant.

Starting with saving it.

Save the spring, then worry about Ohlan's strength. She had a lot to do in the next few days.

Remembering her camera, she downloaded her photos from Chama and looked through them. At the end were the two photos she'd taken of Ohlan.

The first one, with the flash, looked amazing. Ohlan was not recognizable in it; instead it looked like something had splashed into the spring and sent a million diamond drops into the air, each one reflecting the camera's flash, together roughly forming the shape of a human body.

Holly stared at it for a long time. Was this what Ohlan really looked like? Or did he look like anything at all?

She moved on to the non-flash photo and enlarged it until it filled her computer screen. This was the Ohlan she knew and—yes, loved. Her throat tightened just looking at the picture. He was softly smiling, softly glowing. Incredible.

She brought the two photos up side by side. Which was really Ohlan? Or were they both true?

What exactly was she in love with?

The illusion he showed her was beautiful, yes. The flash photo made her feel uncomfortable, but it was Ohlan, too. In fact the feelings raised by that picture were, if anything, stronger than those she had when she looked at his familiar image.

Ohlan's beauty went beyond the illusion. His sweetness, his kindness. They way he looked after anyone who came to the spring, human or no.

She wondered if he ever had to fight. She couldn't imagine it.

She set the “normal” photo as her wallpaper, then cleared the Chama pictures off her camera. She couldn't bear to delete the two of Ohlan, though. She wanted to have them with her always.

~

The next day she wore a nice blouse and slacks—her “impress the adults” attire—and rode to school at an easy pace so she wouldn't mess them up. She sat impatiently through her classes, picking up a couple of homework assignments that she'd have to deal with in the evening. When the final bell rang she went to the school library where she killed half an hour doing her geology homework, then put that book and notebook in her locker and biked over to the Forest Service office.

She was a little early. The receptionist was more friendly today, but Holly was nervous so she didn't chat. Instead she sat on one of the two metal and plastic chairs and got out her notebook, looking over her notes. A moment later she heard the receptionist murmuring into the phone.

“Miss Parker? Mr. Drover will see you now.”

Holly grabbed her pack and stood. The receptionist smiled and came around the counter to open the door to Drover's office.

“Thanks,” Holly said. She straightened her shoulders and went in.

The office felt small, maybe because the desk was huge, a vast expanse made out of some dark wood. The few things that were on it—computer, telephone, one tidy stack of papers—were perfectly aligned.

So Mr. Drover was a neat freak. Though he smiled when he looked up from his computer, Holly still felt intimidated.

“Hello, again! Please, have a seat.”

Holly took the chair he indicated, which was squishy and tried to swallow her. Mr. Drover swiveled his desk chair to face her, ignoring the computer as he laced his fingers over his stomach.

“What can I do for you, Miss Parker?”

Holly swallowed, finding her throat suddenly dry. “I'm writing this article for the
Flight
.”

He nodded and gave an encouraging smile. Holly glanced at her notes.

“I read the annual report that talked about the trail improvement project. It didn't include anything about the spring's historical significance.”

Drover's brows went up. “The introduction discussed its history as a water source for the pre-Puebloan people that lived here.”

“But I mean the co—the concrete housing. That's historically significant too.”

“It's fairly recent.”

“1952,” Holly said, warming to her argument. “And it was a CCC project.”

He leaned his head to one side, frowning slightly. “What's the angle of your article, if I may ask?”

Holly took a deep breath. “I think the housing may deserve preservation as a historic site.”

Mr. Drover's jaw moved slowly, as if he was chewing on the thought. “Interesting.”

Holly turned a page in her notebook. “Were you aware that Amanda Cope wrote about the spring in her memoir of the war years?”

“Yes. The housing was built after the war.”

“But the site's history is tied up in it.” That sounded lame, and her reference to Amanda's book had backfired. Holly tried again. “It was constructed by the CCC. A lot of their projects are already protected as historical sites.”

Mr. Drover smiled. “Rather bigger projects than Enchantment Spring.”

“Just because it's small doesn't mean it's unimportant.”

“True. You know, I wish you had been at our public meetings to bring this up.”

“Meetings?”

“We held a series of meetings for public input over the summer. Perhaps you were out of town?”

Caught off guard, Holly just blinked. She hadn't been out of town. She hadn't been to Enchantment Spring, either. She hadn't cared, at the time.

“We got a lot of good feedback about the project,” Mr. Drover said. “Most of it positive, I might add. I'm afraid no one spoke up for preserving the housing. You know, it's not very attractive.”

Holly frowned. “That's not the point.”

“And it's no longer efficient. Have you seen it?”

“Of course.”

“When it was built, it was meant to keep the spring from running over the trail and causing erosion. The water comes up into the housing, which was intended to keep the spring accessible, though there have been problems with that. The water isn't potable, you know.”

“I know.”

“And the housing has to be cleaned out on a regular basis. Leaves and so on can clog the pipes, and sometimes an animal will fall in and drown.”

Not if Ohlan's watching, Holly thought. She glanced at her notes, feeling lost, looking for support.

“The water is piped away from the housing to the city's reservoir,” Drover added, “but the pipes are old and corroded. We've identified several places where they're leaking.”

“That wasn't in the report,” Holly said.

“No, the report was an overview. It didn't include the details of last year's survey and analysis.”

“Could I see that, please?”

“Sure.” Mr. Drover punched a button on his phone. “Kelly, would you print out a copy of the Enchantment Spring survey and analysis for Miss Parker?”

“OK,” said the receptionist over the speaker.

“Thanks,” Holly said.

“You might also want to look at the comments we collected at the public meetings,” said Mr. Drover. “They're online.”

Holly nodded and copied down the web address he read to her. She looked through the rest of her notes, but she'd used all the arguments she'd planned on. Her only hope, and it was a feeble one, was to start a petition to have the housing protected as a historic site.

Drover seemed to be reading her mind. “If it were in better shape, we might have considered preserving the housing, but the fact is it's failing. We'd have to reconstruct it, redo all the pipes and so on. And it's just not that attractive or valuable, I'm afraid.”

Holly bit her lip. She knew he was right, but what he didn't know was that Ohlan's survival was at stake.

She turned to a blank page and asked some more general journalistic-type questions. How had the project started, had Mr. Drover been one of the initiators, and so on. He answered them all politely while Holly took notes. She was really just marking time, though. Still trying to think of a way to convince him to put the project on hold.

The receptionist came in and handed Holly a few pages stapled together: the survey report. Mr. Drover rolled his chair forward.

“Thank you, Kelly. Does that about cover everything, Miss Parker?”

Holly looked at her notebook, frowning. “For now.”

“Here's my card. You can call if you have any more questions.”

“Thanks.” Holly put the card and the report in her notebook, then slid it into her pack and stood. “Thanks for taking the time to answer my questions.”

He smiled. “Sorry if they weren't quite the answers you were looking for.”

She gazed back at him. He was nice, he just wasn't seeing her point. Everything he'd said made sense, especially to someone who didn't know about Ohlan.

“When's the last time you were up at the spring?” she asked.

“Oh … must have been May. About when we were doing that survey. Why?”

“I just wondered if you'd spent much time there.”

“Not a lot of time, no.”

“You might want to look at what you're destroying.”

He watched her with a bemused expression as she headed out the door. She nodded to the receptionist, then hurried away from the office and out to her bike, checking her watch. She didn't have much time to visit Ohlan, but she wanted to see him, even if she didn't have any good news. She'd checked out a book for him from the school library.

She biked across town and up Mountain Loop to the trailhead, then hurried up the trail. Ohlan stood up from the spring as she approached.

“Hi.” She smiled, feeling less than confident. Her big plan hadn't amounted to much.

Ohlan smiled, sitting down on the edge of the coffin, inviting her with open arms to join him. She sat down and opened her pack.

“I can't stay very long. I borrowed this for you. Can you keep it from getting wet?”

Ohlan accepted the book, pausing to read the title before smiling. “Yes. Thank you. I haven't read anything in quite a while.”

She looked up at him, feeling tears start to sting her eyes. “Hope you like it.”

He set the book in his lap and caressed her hair. “What's wrong, Holly?”

“Oh,” she said, brushing at her cheeks, struggling not to burst out crying. “You know. Worried. I don't want to lose you.”

His brow creased in a frown. So he was worried, too.

He folded his arms around her, holding her gently. “Don't let it trouble you. If my time is over, you will still remember me.”

That did it. She sobbed, and Ohlan's arms tightened around her. He held her until she subsided to occasional sniffs, then kissed her eyelids, one after the other. That almost made her cry again, but she kept it together and reached up to touch his face.

“I love you.”

Ohlan kissed her. She reveled in it briefly, then pulled back.

“I have to go.”

His arms loosened and she stood, a bit unsteady as she grabbed her pack and started away. “See you tomorrow. Enjoy the book.”

“I love you too, Holly.”

She stopped in her tracks, wanting to run back to him, wanting to stay for the night. Swallowing, she looked over her shoulder.

He sat softly smiling, almost exactly as he looked in the photo she'd taken. She stared for a moment, wanting to imprint his image on her soul.

“Bye,” she said softly.

Ohlan lifted one hand in farewell. Holly shouldered her pack and strode for home.

She got in earlier than the previous day, which gave her time to start on her chores before dinner and earn a mild approval from her mom. After dinner, she finished up the chores and did her homework, by which time she was dead tired. She went to bed without even checking her email.

~

School was getting into gear. She had to pay more attention in classes, and received more homework assignments. She was starting to feel oppressed, and the fact that she hadn't stopped the trail renovation didn't help.

The weather didn't help either. By the time school let out on Wednesday, heavy clouds had gathered overhead. “Teatime rain,” her mom liked to call it—the summer rains often came around four o'clock. This storm looked like it would follow that pattern.

Which meant Holly had less than an hour to get under shelter before it started pouring. She rode her bike straight to the trailhead, determined to spend as much time as possible with Ohlan to make up for the previous day.

The light in the forest was dim and the air was unusually quiet; no birds or critters hopping around the branches. It was as if the forest was holding its breath, waiting for the storm to break.

As Holly reached the spring, she saw that the glen wasn't empty. A forest ranger was squatting by the west end of the coffin.