Echoes (20 page)

“That’s it,” she announced to Hawthorne. “I’m going to do it!”

One of the advantages of working at a bank was that she had opened a savings account and had arranged to have money automatically deducted from her paycheck each week. It was mad money that she had never touched. If this didn’t qualify as a “mad” decision, then nothing she would ever do would.

She marched out the door and drove to the airport where she cashed in her free ticket. She would arrive in Portland close to noon on Friday, have time for a hike with KC, then she would drive down to Teri’s little town of Glenbrooke, stay in a hotel, and spend Saturday with Teri and her new husband at their wedding reception. She would drive the three hours back to Portland on Sunday and fly up to see her parents for the week. If by any chance things went exceptionally well with KC, he could fly up to Victoria with her to meet her parents. There wasn’t a figurative storm cloud in sight.

She arrived home at 8:30 and left a message with Teri’s parents, informing them of her plans. They said they would pass the word on when Teri called in. She and Gordon were driving up the coast on their honeymoon and expected to be in Glenbrooke by Friday evening.

Then Lauren sent KC an e-mail note:

His answer didn’t come through until Wednesday morning, which made her slightly stressed. She calmed as she read his words. He began with a Browning quote:

Lauren read his words again and again, swallowing them like rich, dark chocolate. The part about appearances being of little matter stuck with her. When she finally came off her cloud, she started to wonder: What if he was dog-ugly? Or only four feet tall? What if he weighed five hundred pounds? Or what if he was super skinny and frail? What if he was in a
wheelchair? She doubted he would have suggested hiking if that were the case. He could be missing a limb, though. But it wasn’t likely that someone who traveled constantly did so with an artificial leg or arm. Or was it?

Saving his letter and printing it out for her notebook, Lauren wondered if perhaps he was such a complete geek that no one had wanted to go out with him for the past five years. Deep inside she knew she loved him for his heart. It didn’t matter what he looked like. It reminded her of
The Phantom of the Opera
. The Phantom was hideously ugly and hid behind a mask. His voice was what drew Christine to him, as well as his ability to teach her to improve her singing. However, Christine never saw the Phantom’s face until the end. When she did, even though it repulsed her, she chose to love him. However, disaster awaited them. The many years of blending their voices in the dark came to a painful end. Others never understood her strange love for him.

“Have I fallen in love with a Phantom, Hawthorne? Why did I say I would meet him?” The purring cat settled himself on her lap and listened to her woes. “I could still call it off.” She reread his letter. “No, I couldn’t. I have to go through with this, no matter what happens. And who knows? He could be normal through and through.”

At work Thursday Lauren tried to avoid eye contact with Mindy. But the all-knowing counselor had figured out that Lauren had made plans to go to Portland and continued to express concern. She left Lauren in the parking lot that evening with a dramatic hug and said, “If I never see you again, I want you to know you’ve been a true friend. My only consolation will be that I’ll see you in heaven.”

“Get out of here,” Lauren said. “I’m not going to disappear.”

“Will you promise me one thing?”

“I don’t know. What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll allow yourself an out. You know, even if you get all the way to the falls and something inside you, which will, of course, be the Holy Spirit, tells you to pull back, will you do it? Will you promise me you’ll run like the wind?”

Lauren smiled. “Okay. I promise I’ll run like the wind if anything inside me tells me to pull back.”

That night she packed in a flurry, loading two suitcases with everything she owned that still fit her. For nearly an hour she fiddled with possible outfit combinations and finally decided on a pair of jeans instead of shorts for the big meeting the next afternoon. Her legs weren’t very tan, and she didn’t like any of the tops that went with her shorts. She had several T-shirts laid out on her floor but put off that decision until the morning.

Then, with her luggage lined up by the door, she checked Hawthorne’s automatic cat feeder and cleaned his litter box. “I know you won’t even miss me. There’s enough food and water here for a week. Remember to floss after every meal, and I’m serious when I say no wild parties while I’m gone.”

Hawthorne’s flat “meow” was evidence enough that he would be fine.

She barely slept, tossing in bed while her mind ran an unending marathon. She felt like the description Mindy had given her a year ago of a person walking around with a big “if” over her head. What if this was a huge mistake? What if it was right, and they decided to elope right then and there? What if … The alarm clock’s shrill interruption was a welcome friend.

The “if’s” didn’t leave her alone, though. Not in the shower, not on the plane, not at the Portland car rental booth, and not on the freeway heading east with the unfolded map in her hand. She found Multnomah Falls with no problem and could see the 620-foot beauty from the parking lot.

She felt no qualms about moving forward. Only peace. It
was a gorgeous, sunny day. That was a good sign. Lauren checked her hair and makeup and practiced a smile in her rearview mirror. Then, with a deep breath, she got out of the car, merrily closed the door, and marched off to the entrance of Multnomah Falls.

T
he time was exactly 1:00 p.m. as Lauren came up from the freeway pedestrian tunnel that led to the falls. Dozens of tourists were coming and going. The warm afternoon sun felt good on her hands, which were chilled from the car’s air conditioner. She noticed an espresso cart to the right and remembered she was supposed to bring the drinks. No problem. They could pop back down here for KC’s 7-Up. Behind the cart, long lines formed for the snack bar window, and behind that was a wonderful stone lodge. Lauren had read about it in a brochure at the airport while waiting to rent her car. The lodge was built in 1925 and now housed a restaurant and gift shop. Perhaps they could find a quiet table at the restaurant after their hike and …

Out of the corner of her eye, Lauren spotted a man wearing a beige baseball cap. He wore a windbreaker, so she couldn’t tell what color his T-shirt was. Dark hair stuck out the sides of his cap, and he was much shorter than she had hoped he
would be. Lauren hurried to catch up with him on the wide trail up to the first lookout point. “Excuse me.” She could hardly contain her excitement. “KC?”

The surprised man turned around and spoke to her in Japanese. He had on a blue button-down shirt and no backpack.

“Oh, excuse me,” Lauren said, slightly bowing her head in response to the tourist’s gesture of nodding at her. They both nodded again, and she broke away, her cheeks fiery hot with embarrassment.

A few yards farther up the trail she reached the first lookout point. Surveying the large open area with the stone railed observation point, Lauren counted a half-dozen men wearing baseball caps. None of the caps was beige and none of the men carried a green backpack.

Lauren hung back by the trees on the side, wanting to make sure she didn’t approach the wrong man again. Suddenly there was a tap on her shoulder. She jumped slightly and turned to see the Japanese man handing her his camera. By his rapid words and gestures, she figured out he wanted her to take his photo on the observation point with the falls in the background.

“Okay,” she said, accepting the camera and tipping her head to the man.

He chattered his instructions, pointing at the lens cap, and walked back to where he wanted to pose for the photo. Lauren put her eye to the viewfinder. The man was close up, filling the frame and leaving no room for the waterfall. “Wow! This is quite a camera,” she muttered, trying to adjust the zoom lens.

The tourist continued to point and call out his directions to her. Lauren gave the lens a twist and suddenly a green backpack and part of a beige hat appeared in the frame. Her heart began to pound faster. She moved the camera slightly and
made the image smaller. Yes, he wore a white T-shirt, and the green pack over his shoulder had a brown leather bottom.

Lauren could hardly breathe as she moved the camera so she could see his head through the lens. Locks of dark brown hair peeked out from under the beige baseball cap. “Come on, turn around, turn around,” she muttered.

He slowly turned. Her focus through the camera lens was perfect. A strong, chiseled jaw laid the foundation for a tender smile that pulled up the laugh lines across his cheeks and bunched them together like a collection of gold threads in the corner of his eyes.

“KC,” she whispered.

Lauren moved the camera toward him and felt her cheeks flushing a tingly red. This was it. KC was standing there, big as life, as real and as wonderful—no, more real and more wonderful—than she had imagined.

Click. Her trembling finger snapped a picture—not of the tourist, but a close-up of KC.

The tourist, assuming she had taken his picture, trotted over and tried to retrieve his camera, thanking her and bowing.

“But I didn’t take your picture yet,” she said, holding on to the camera.

The man yanked it from her hands, a scowl spreading across his forehead. He marched off, mumbling Japanese phrases, which Lauren guessed weren’t especially complimentary.

Oh yeah? Well, wait till you have your film developed!

Lauren looked up to see if KC had noticed the clamor. He was looking in the other direction, scanning the faces of each woman who walked past him.

Suddenly Lauren couldn’t move. KC was standing only twenty feet away, and she couldn’t move. The only other time she remembered feeling this dumbfounded was that night in
the alley when the homeless man stole her purse. An overwhelming impulse swelled inside her.

Run, Lauren. Run!

And run she did. All the way back to the parking lot where she hid in her rental car, feeling her heart pound in her ears and her eyes fill with tears.

“I can’t do this!” she told herself, turning the key in the ignition. “He’s too wonderful and I’m … I’m not ready for this. What if he wouldn’t like me? Or if he would spend today with me and then decide he never wanted to see me again? I couldn’t live with that.”

Fueled by the vast emotional furnace of painful memories of abandonment, first by her father and then by Jeff, Lauren rammed the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot. She was mad, flaming mad, and she didn’t exactly know why. As she drove, she decided the best course was to do what she had done for years: Swallow her feelings and go on. Change the subject. Move on to the next thing.