The Park Service: Book One of The Park Service Trilogy (13 page)

“Why dun’ ya jus’ call ’em Little John, or John, Jr.?”

I remember Uncle John teaching me to clean a fish in two cuts, then giving me his knife. And I remember them bringing his mangled body back and burning it on the bluff. I remember his wife giving birth to his son and naming him John, Jr. And I remember the Park Service slaughtering them, too.

“How about we just call him Junior?” I say.

“Junior it is then,” Jimmy says, skipping one last stone. “We better get on if we’s gonna reach that lake by dusk.”

Junior takes to his name better than he does to keeping up with us. He quickly falls behind, and after waiting for him to catch up a third time, Jimmy threatens to eat him again. I scoop him up and carry him a ways, then I put him in my pack with his mother’s fur and we set a fast pace to make up lost time.

All is quiet, with just the sound of the river running and Jimmy’s spear and my walking stick knocking against stones as we walk. I feel Junior’s hot breath on my ear every few minutes when he pokes his head out and looks around, as if satisfying himself we’re heading in the right direction, before retreating into the pack and snuggling into his mother’s coat.

Near dusk, with the sky turning cobalt overhead, we come to where the river flows into a deep canyon with no bank on either side, and we’re forced to seek higher ground and follow the river by sound as we weave our way through the forest. The forest is bone cold, and the pines stand dark against the deep-blue sky as our breath smokes in the air before us—Jimmy’s, mine, and occasionally Junior’s tiny breaths over my shoulder. We walk for a long time with the sounds of the river fading to our right and sticks and pine needles crunching under our feet.

Soon, the sky is nearly black, and the trees recede into it so we can only see their faint shadows when we’re nearly on top of them. I’m about to suggest we stop and make camp when Jimmy drops to the ground, grabs my arm, and pulls me down with him. He points ahead. We shimmy forward on our bellies and I see why he made us drop out of sight.

The trees end abruptly at the edge of a high bluff, and the bluff looks over the lake now glowing a kind of purple as its still waters reflect the last bit of light. Below us, on a small peninsula that juts out into the lake, is some sort of building shrouded in deep shadows. It looks like a big house, or maybe a lodge. Lighted windows cast yellow rectangles on manicured lawns. Stone steps lead down to an enormous boathouse and a long dock built out into the lake. The dock’s edges are lit with gas torches that crisscross one another and cast luminous twin sets of torches on the surface of the water.

“Whataya think it is?” Jimmy whispers.

“Some kind of mansion or something,” I whisper back.

“What’s a mansion?”

“Just a big fancy house, I guess.”

“Oh ...”

“Like a big tent, but more permanent,” I say, realizing he’s never seen a house either.

“Who lives here?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.”

We lie still and watch while the last bit of light fades, the lake turning from purple to black, the lodge disappearing into shadow save for the lit windows and the torches on the dock. After a while, Junior crawls out of my pack and stands with his front paws on the back of my head and watches with us.

“We better backtrack and make camp,” Jimmy says.

I scoop Junior off my back and we shimmy away from the edge. We walk maybe fifty meters into the forest until we find a wind-felled tree. It’s too dark to make beds, and we don’t dare make a fire, so we lie on the cold ground with the tree between ourselves and the lake. I can hear Jimmy’s stomach grumbling next to me, and I wonder if he can hear mine. I fish the pelt from my pack and use it for a pillow. Junior curls up on it also and drops fast asleep beside my head. I feel his tiny ribs rising and falling as he breathes, and I’m sure I even hear his little tummy grumble once, too.

“Hey, Aubrey,” Jimmy says.

“Yeah ...”

“Never mind.”

“What is it, Jimmy?”

“I was jus’ thinkin’.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Well, I was jus’ thinkin’ that whatever’s down there ... I mean, whatever happens tomorrow ...”

“Yeah ...”

“Ah, it’s nothin’, really,” he says, “I jus’ was thinkin’ stuff. Guess I wanted to say I’m real glad we met.”

Junior sneezes in the dark, shifts his position on the fur, and falls right back to sleep. I think Jimmy might say something more, but he doesn’t, and all I can hear is the faint rumble of the restless river running down its canyon somewhere.

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah ...”

“I’m real glad to have met you, too.”

CHAPTER 23
The Lake House at Malthusai

“Knock it off.”

Junior licking the salt from my lips.

“All right, all right. What’s that sound?”

Swoosh—thwap! Swoosh—thwap! Swoosh—thwap!

Jimmy is fast asleep snoring, his arms wrapped around his pack as if he were cuddling it. I pick Junior up and carry him with me to go investigate. The dawn light beyond the trees is gray and the distant peaks stand black against it, and as I near the edge of the bluff, the pewter lake comes into view. A duck calls, another flapping clumsily across the sky veers to the lake and lands, cutting the smooth surface open like a zipper.

I set Junior on the ground, drop to my belly, and shimmy to the edge. Just as I peek over, the sun rises from between two peaks, blinding me. I narrow my lids against the glare, raise a hand to shield my eyes, and wait for my vision to adjust.

Swoosh—thwap! Swoosh—thwap! Swoosh—thwap!

She fades into my sight like some fiery sex-goddess might in a dream from which I’d never want to wake, and I know in this very moment that I’ll never be the same again. Standing on a red clay tennis court, she’s hitting balls thrown by a machine. She wears white shoes and a white tennis skirt, her long legs bare, her skin the color of pale honey, and when she hits the ball, her skirt lifts and I can see the hint of her pink underwear. But what attracts me most about her appearance, and why I cannot pull my eyes away, is her thick red hair pulled back from her gorgeous face and tied in a pony tail that sweeps out behind her, splaying open like a burst of flame when she swings, then falling again to rest in the perfect curve of her back.

The balls come fast from the machine, and she delivers them back across the net with expert swings—backhand and forehand and overhand—dancing on the red court, agile and so faery-like I wouldn’t be surprised if her red hair spread into wings and she flew away over the treetops. But I hope she never flies away. I want to lie here and watch her forever, and I would if Junior didn’t start crying loudly in my ear, the noise threatening to draw her attention to me.

I turn to grab him but he backs away and yips again. I look at his little ribs showing through his fur and think he must be starving. Shimmying away from the edge, I head back toward our camp with Junior yipping at my heel.

Jimmy’s awake, propped against the log, digging through his near empty pack.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“Anythin’ eatable,” he says. “Where were ya?”

“Had to take a leak,” I say.

I don’t know why I lie to him, I just do.

“What was that sound?” he asks.

“What sound?” I say, lying again.

Jimmy just shakes his head and says, “I’m starved.”

“Me too. And so is Junior.”

He tosses his pack and stands, brushing himself off and looking around.

“Well,” he says, “let’s leave our stuff here jus’ in case and go on and have a look.”

When we belly up to the edge, the tennis court is empty. Now that’s she’s no longer there, holding me spellbound with her beauty, I can see what the place looks like in the light.

The lake is enormous, cupped on all sides by mountains. The lodge below us is built almost entirely of brown stone, its steep roof shingled with red cedar, its gables accented with gray rock. The windows warble in the light like pictures of old leaded glass I’ve seen in educationals. The face of the lodge angles away from us toward the blue lake, two wings on either side surrounding the red-clay tennis court. The grounds are impeccable, with bursts of little flowers here and hanging baskets of color there. The green lawns are mowed so tight that you can see the lines running in perfect patterns across the grass. At the edge of the property, stone steps lead down to a swath of beach and the enormous boathouse built right up out of the water in stone that matches the lodge. A dock juts out into the lake, hovering just above the water’s surface on pylons.

All is quiet and serene, and we sit there for thirty minutes and watch hummingbirds hover at the flowers and the shadows shrink as the sun climbs in the sky.

“Think anyone’s home?” Jimmy says.

“I don’t know,” I say, lying again.

“Think you could boost me over that wall?”

“Maybe.”

With Junior whimpering in my arms, we walk through the forest north of the lodge to where we won’t be seen, and where the cliffs give way to gentler slopes. We work our way down to the lake and walk the shore back to the wall that separates us from the house. The wall must stand nearly three meters tall, made from impenetrable stone, with a wide arch in its center framing giant wooden doors with iron rings for handles.

“Boost me up,” Jimmy says.

“How about you boost me,” I say. “I’m lighter.”

“Whatever,” Jimmy shrugs.

I set Junior down and step into Jimmy’s hands. He lifts me up, but I’m still a head short of seeing over.

“It’s too high.”

I step down. He crouches, tapping his shoulders for me to climb on. I step up, left foot, right, and brace myself against the wall with my palms. He grunts, rises, and the wall slides down past me and disappears until I’m looking in on the garden.

She’s standing there on the other side of the wall, looking up at me with her hands hooked on her narrow hips.

“Whataya see?” Jimmy asks, his voice strained beneath me.

She’s changed from her tennis skirt into white shorts, her feet bare in the grass, her red hair loose and all around her.

“Who are you?” she asks, her voice calm.

I prop my arms on the edge of the wall.

“I’m Aubrey.”

“What?” Jimmy asks.

“Aubrey’s a funny name for a boy,” she says, smirking.

“I’m not a boy, I’m a man,” I say. “What’s your name?”

“Hannah.”

“Who ya talkin’ to?” Jimmy asks, wobbling beneath me.

“Hannah’s a funny name for a girl,” I say.

“No, it’s not,” she says. “Besides, what would you know about girls, anyway?”

“I know plenty.”

“Well, you can’t know that much,” she says, “because you don’t know enough to use the door right beside you.”

“Aubrey,” Jimmy says, almost yelling now.

“People don’t build walls as an invitation for guests.”

She laughs, her face even more beautiful when she does. “So you’re telling me you think they build them to invite boys to peek over?”

“Aubrey! Who ya talkin’ to?”

“I’m not a boy.”

“Well, whatever,” she says. “The wall’s to keep the flowers in, not to keep anything out. The door isn’t locked.”

She disappears behind the wall again as Jimmy lowers me. I step down and he crosses his arms and rubs his shoulders and glares at me with his face bright red.

“What the hell, Aubrey,” he says, “dun’ ya listen? Who was ya talkin’ to in there?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

We each grab an iron handle and swing the doors open, soundless on their oiled hinges. Hannah stands just inside the courtyard with the posture of some dignitary doing her duty and receiving guests well beneath her station.

“Welcome to the Lake House at Malthusai,” she says.

She turns and walks into the courtyard. Jimmy and I follow without a word. She leads us to a shaded patio overlooking the lake, sweeping her arms toward a large iron table indicating that we should sit, and lowering herself into a chair without waiting.

The heavy chairs are cushioned with thick fabric, and after months of river boulders and fallen trees for furniture, it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever sat in. The table has seats for six, but only Hannah’s place is set with plates of fine china, a saucer and cup, a crystal glass, and silver flatware.

She lifts a small golden bell and rings it, and almost before she sets it down again, a woman steps from the house carrying a tray. The woman stops when she sees us, her apron swinging away from her waist and settling again, the ice rattling in its metal pitcher. She turns and disappears back into the house.

I look at Jimmy, Jimmy looks at me, and then we both swivel our heads back to Hannah.

Shortly, the woman reappears carrying a larger tray and she sets place settings to match Hannah’s in front of us. She turns our cups over and fills them with steaming tea from an iron pot, and she fills our glasses with ice water from the pitcher. She pauses to look at Junior in my arms. She reaches to pet him, but pulls her hand away and walks back into the house.

When she comes out again, her tray is loaded with food. She sets out a basket of breads. Wood bowls filled with fruit—strawberries, raspberries, oranges, and even mangos. She lifts the steaming lid from a dish of boiled potatoes and asparagus. She sets down pancakes and maple syrup, toast spread with avocado, and a bowl of sliced bananas. On the grass beside the table, she sets a bowl of water and another of fruit and granola. Junior is already squirming in my arms for the food, and when I set him on the grass, he makes for the bowl and buries his little face in it, eating. The woman bows slightly and retreats into the house leaving the three of us alone with our feast.

“Don’t be shy,” Hannah says.

Jimmy and I look at one another and then we reach for the food and begin to eat without even pausing to put anything on our plates. Our flatware and linens remain untouched as we stuff muffins and bread and fruit into our mouths, chewing and swallowing it before it can be taken away. Hannah sits across from us, sipping her tea and watching with a smile on her face.

The crystal water glass is heavy and cool in my hand and the water tastes deliciously strange after drinking from rivers and streams. I watch Hannah drizzle honey in her tea, stirring it with a tiny spoon. I try to copy her, but I gulp the steaming tea, scald my tongue, and spit it out. She laughs. I eat on.

Fruit, pastries, nuts. Jimmy eats pancakes with his hands, folding them and stuffing them in his mouth. I scoop potatoes and asparagus onto my plate and lift my heavy flatware, but it’s been so long since I’ve used any that I knock the fork against my teeth. We devour nearly everything before us and then the woman comes from the house with even more.

And we eat more.

When I finally push my plate away and rest my hands on my belly and look down, Junior is laid on his side next to his empty dish and breathing heavily with his tongue lolling out. Jimmy finishes eating also, and then the woman reappears and refills our tea, refills our water, and carries everything else away and comes back to sweep the crumbs from the table.

We sit there looking at Hannah as if we’ve just sat down, no evidence left at all of the feast we just ate except our swollen bellies and our drooping eyes.

“It’s nice to have company for breakfast,” she says.

“What is this place?” Jimmy asks.

“It’s my home,” she says. “What’s your name?”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy and Aubrey. And what’s the pup’s name?”

“Junior,” I say. “Do you get many guests?”

“No,” she says, “never.”

She sips her tea and smiles at us.

Jimmy picks his teeth, I look around.

“Father won’t be happy about the pup,” she says, after a long silence. “We’re not supposed to have pets here.”

“You live here with your father?”

“And my mother,” she says. “They’re off touring, but they should be back tomorrow morning. That was you watching me play tennis this morning, wasn’t it?”

I blush and turn away from her. I see Jimmy narrow his eyes at me, realizing I lied.

“Where did you two come from?” she asks.

Jimmy nods toward the forest and the mountain beyond.

“Shut up,” she says, setting her teacup down. “You guys crossed the mountains? Have you seen the ocean? I long to see the ocean. I dream about it even. But Daddy says I’m too young to tour yet. Tell me about the ocean.”

Jimmy and I start to talk at the same time and stop.

Hannah’s eyes dart back and forth between us, and I jump in and keep talking and her eyes settle on me.

“It’s amazing,” I say. “You have to see it. The water’s as blue as you can imagine and it moves with a life of its own.”

“Is it big?” she asks, leaning forward, her eyes wide.

“Is it big? I’ll tell you, you can see the Earth curve away at the horizon. In the evening, the sun slips into it, and sometimes there’s a blast of after light that sets the whole sky on fire.”

“Ya can drown in it, too,” Jimmy says. “Or get yerself cut to pieces by the Park Service.”

“Well, then ...,” she says, picking up her cup and tossing the last of her tea into the grass. “You two look like you could use some rest. Let’s see if Gloria’s set your rooms, shall we?”

She stands without waiting for an answer.

Jimmy and I slide our heavy chairs out and follow her to the house. I turn back for Junior, but Hannah waves me along and says she’ll have Gloria fix him a comfortable place.

Inside the house is cool. The floors are laid with polished tiles, the walls plastered, the ceilings boxed with timbers. Fresh flowers spring from vases everywhere, and the whole place smells of lavender and pine. She walks us past a study with a fireplace you could stand in, walls of books to the ceiling, and a ladder on wheels with which to reach them. The halls are hung with art, and alcoves display exotic marble statues that watch us pass with dreamy, frozen stares.

Hannah stops in front of an open door.

“Why don’t we give you the green room, Aubrey? That’s the bath there,” she says, pointing across the room to another door left ajar and from which a shaft of white light runs across the floor and climbs the opposite wall. “You’ll find everything you need in there. I’ll have Gloria see what clothes Daddy can spare. Come with me, Jimmy, we’ll give you the blue room.”

She pulls the door shut, leaving me standing there alone, taking in the room. Soft light filters in through a high window and lands on an enormous bed turned down with cotton sheets and a green comforter. I walk to the bed and sit—the mattress is soft and springy. The rest of the room is simple. Two lamps. A chest of drawers against one wall, a wood wardrobe against the other. The walls are papered green and inlaid with pictures of yellow birds frozen in flight.