Part 5 (1/2)
Gloria punched in the numbers of her calling card and relished the sound of the ringing that said her call had finally gone through. She'd spent too much time wandering around the campgrounds trying to find a cell phone signal, and had given up and headed for the payphones at the Lodge.
”Hey, Ma,” she said when her mother picked up.
”What's wrong?”
”Nothing's wrong. I can't call you?”
”You send cards. That's what you do. I got your last one, by the way. Lovely, lovely place. But you don't call unless something's wrong. Bear attack?”
”No.” Gloria pinched the bridge of her nose.
”Stupid campers?”
”Same as usual.”
”Something wrong with the camper? You need to talk to your father?”
”Mom. I'm fine. The camper's fine. Can't I just call to say hi?”
There was silence on the line as her mother processed all of that. Just as Gloria thought she would let it slide, she began to laugh. ”No. Your evenings, you hunker down with your work or a book. What's got you worked up enough to find a place to make a call? This isn't your cell. Are you up in Mammoth?”
”At the Lodge, Mom. There are payphones here. The cell coverage is spotty.” Gloria rested her back against the building, watching the activity at the corrals, looking for the real reason she'd walked over. She couldn't stop thinking about Kristine. Unanswered questions had been buzzing around in her head, especially during her quiet evenings. Though she realized that Kristine was at the Aspens most days, Gloria still walked over to the Lodge around six thirty, hoping that Kristine might have headed back down for dinner or another campfire gathering.
”You're lonesome,” her mother diagnosed.
”I'm fine. I like my solitude.”
”Usually when you say that, I believe you. This time, I don't. What's going on?”
Gloria realized she might as well talk to her mother. She had after all called her. ”There was this campfire thing a few days ago, after my talk.” She shrugged even though she knew her mother could not see her. The line remained quiet as her mother waited for her daughter to continue. ”I guess it made me homesick. I move around so much that there's never a group who welcomes me back, no old-timers...” Movement in the yard distracted her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Kristine riding in with a string of mules behind her.
Suddenly self-conscious, Gloria swiveled away from looking at the parking lot and corrals.
”Old-timers?” her mother prompted.
”Old-timers,” Gloria repeated, kicking herself for not making a plan if she did happen to find Kristine.
”You were saying something about old-timers.”
”Oh, right.” Curious about what the cowboys were doing, she pivoted back around. She saw Kristine tying her lead mule to a post by a large wooden platform. It looked exactly like a dock she'd expect to see in a lake with a rowboat tied to the side, yet this was on dry land. ”Old-timers telling stories about back when I was a teenager just learning the ropes,” Gloria said.
”Adam's got those stories, and he's always saying he wished he had funding to keep you at the field office here. I always thought you were kind of relieved there wasn't money for something full-time for you here. I thought you liked being out in the wilds on your own.”
”I do like where I am. I love what I do.” She kept her eye on the group that had gathered to help unload the mules. ”I'm just realizing that it would be nice to have a group.” Like the one that she watched working together. They were a unit. The rangers she worked with became units. She'd always been the outsider. Strange that she'd never been so aware of it before.
Her mother laughed heartily. ”Does this phone have a record b.u.t.ton? I want to hear you say that again. Don't you remember me bugging you to go hang out with people your own age when you were in high school?”
”I remember,” she said. Gloria wished she was closer to the work. In a flash, Kristine and Sandy pulled large leather bags from each side of the mule and tossed them onto the dock. Dozer emptied out the bags, stowing the canvas tarps and long ropes in the shed. Kristine glanced toward the building where Gloria stood. Her eyes. .h.i.t Gloria like an arrow finding its target.
”You sound so blue,” her mother's voice brought Gloria back to the conversation she was having. ”Not your usual whip-people-into-shape self.”
Gloria knew she should respond, but couldn't find words. When they had finished unloading the mules, Dozer and Kristine appeared to discuss something before Dozer took the string and led them away from the dock. Kristine sauntered across the yard, spurs clinking, the fringe of short chaps she wore slapping below her knees. She pushed her rolled-up sleeves back down, concealing her strong forearms, and her black hat shaded her face as she concentrated on b.u.t.toning her cuffs. As she entered the store, she glanced briefly in Gloria's direction.
”I'm just in that adjustment period, finding my bearings,” Gloria answered. She s.h.i.+fted her position and was able to look in the doorway. Kristine had paused at the counter, chatting with the spellbound store clerk as she rang up an ice cream. As Kristine walked to her truck, the clerk followed her with her eyes until she realized Gloria was watching. She shrugged with a smile of acknowledgment as if to say they'd both been caught. Oblivious to the two women behind her, Kristine climbed into the cab of her truck and pulled out of the parking lot.
”Maybe you should give Meg a call. Touch base.”
”Mmm,” Gloria mumbled.
”Take care of yourself, sweetie,” her mother said, letting her off the hook.
”I will, Mom. I love you.” Gloria replaced the receiver in the cradle and paused. Something made her glance in the store again though she knew Kristine was long gone. The clerk smiled brightly.
Gloria didn't miss how the clerk's tight tank showed off her lean figure. She'd swept her dark hair up into a bun that instead of looking messy came off as stylish and cool. She returned Gloria's appraisal with an openness that invited Gloria over. She thought about simply waving because by comparison she felt frumpy in her standard loose-fitting hiking pants, her Department of Fish and Wildlife tee and unexciting ponytail tucked through the back of her ball cap. What she'd said to her mother was true-she was finding her bearings. With the hope that talking to someone would make her feel more settled, she headed toward the store.
”Checking in with the girlfriend back home?” the clerk asked without preamble.
”Mom,” Gloria corrected, noting the clerk's reaction, the sport in her eyes.
”I never got to introduce myself the other night,” she said. ”I'm Ocean.”
”Ocean?”
”Daughter of Deadheads and thus destined to be a whaler or marine biologist.”
”I know plenty of people whose names match their profession, a Melody in chorus, a baker named Baker.”
”Alas, the water is no draw to me.” She smiled, her eyes openly a.s.sessing Gloria's body. ”If you've got some time this evening, I'd be happy to show you what I am drawn to.”
In the back of her head, Gloria heard Meg's voice commenting on the wealth of selection Mammoth had to offer. Pus.h.i.+ng it aside, she smiled and said, ”My evenings are nothing but time.”
”Super.” Ocean smiled brightly. ”You had dinner? I usually grab something at the cafe.”
”That sounds good,” Gloria said. Gravitating toward the cards against the wall, she smiled and stepped aside to let Ocean do her job. Though she told herself she should find another photographer's perspective to send to her mother, Kristine's cards still spoke to her the most. She lifted one from the display.
Two backpackers crossed a sheer expanse of granite. The color of the rock, which dominated the image, should have made the picture feel cold, and the tiny backpackers remote. When she studied it though, Gloria felt warmth, felt like Kristine had captured something resonating between the two women and their surroundings.
When the clock rounded to seven, she laid the image on the counter.
”Last sale of the day,” Ocean said, slipping the card into a bag for Gloria. She ducked under the counter and motioned Gloria out in front of her. ”I could take you there.”
Gloria tilted her chin.
”You hike, right? When I'm off, we could take the trail in that picture. That granite pa.s.s is on the way to Fish Creek. I hear there's a killer set of hot springs down there. We should go.”
Gloria wondered if that's where the women in the picture were headed, if they were going to a romantic natural hot spring. ”It sounds lovely,” she answered as they settled in at the counter in the cafe.