Mail-Order Millionaire (25 page)

Ariel agreed and Max made arrangements to come by and pick up his tent and sleeping bag and then he hung up. His every instinct cried out to get into the car and drive to the farm, but he couldn’t do that. He had to let her go, now, before it was too late. He would tell her what had happened and say goodbye. She’d understand.

He called all day, but she never answered. Maybe she never got there, maybe she fell into a pothole on that rutted road to the farm. Or maybe the horse stepped on her again and she couldn’t get back to the house. Knowing Miranda, she’d crawl through the mud on her hands and knees before she’d ask for help.

He knew how proud she was of being independent, yet they worked well together. In the fields or in the house. And they had fun together, like this past weekend. He’d miss her. He missed her now, so much there was an empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. If only he could hear her voice. If only she’d answer. Finally, at dusk, she did.

“Where’ve you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been trying to call you all day.”

“Outside. I thought you’d sleep all day. You deserve to after what you went through. I heard you on the radio. You made it sound like nothing.”

“It was nothing. I just followed their footsteps. They were right where I thought they’d be.”

“That’s not what the man on the radio said. He said it was a heroic rescue.”

“It’s part of my job.”

“Even on your day off?”

“Anytime. That’s why...”

“You don’t have to explain. I know what you’re going to say. I’m glad you called. Goodbye, Max.” She hung up before he could say any more. Before he could tell her he loved her.

The finality of her farewell sunk in slowly. It was still sinking in when he returned to the weather station. The excitement of the rescue had faded away and he was back to being an observer of the world’s worst weather. Only the worst weather had become the best. Spring had come to the mountain, melting the snow and causing wildflowers to push their way up through the cracks in the mica schist.

The sight of the new leaves and the smell of the damp earth caused Max to feel restless. Instead of enjoying the isolation, he felt trapped, what some weathermen called rock fever, caused by an inability to get off the rock.

The local radio station called. The producer had been so happy with Max’s report on the rescue, he wanted to do a short special on the weather station and what went on up there, instead of Max’s going down to the studio, however, they did the interview over the telephone, live. He wondered if Miranda heard it. Fred heard it and he called, but Miranda didn’t. He’d tried to make it interesting, but maybe she wasn’t interested in anything he said anymore.

He could have called her. He could have called her at work and ordered something. He thumbed through the catalog, stopping at the page with her picture, thinking of how it affected him when he saw her wearing her long underwear with the moonlight shining on her. Thinking of how no picture could capture the light that shone from her eyes, or the curve of her lips when she smiled at him. The touch of her skin, the silkiness of her hair brushing his cheek, were not something you could see in a picture.

He should have looked forward to getting off the mountain at the end of the week and going home. But his apartment had never been home to him. If he had a home it was here on the mountain. But not anymore. He paced, he wished for a storm to blot out the magnificent views, because he had no one to share them with. But the weather just wouldn’t cooperate. Each day was more beautiful than the last. With his binoculars he could see the ships in the Portland harbor. If only Miranda were here to see them, too.

Miranda was at work during the day, and instead of enjoying the beautiful spring weather, she was hunched over her desk, trying to make sense of lost items, mistakes in billing and back orders on trapper blankets. She wanted to leave her desk in order when she quit her job.

She’d finally decided to sell the farm. Mr. Northwood had made her one last offer and she’d accepted. Now she could quit her job and do whatever she liked. The problem was that what she liked was to work the farm, put in the Christmas trees and increase apple production. But she had come to the reluctant conclusion that she couldn’t have it all, and that her freedom was more important than the farm. Now it was up to her to decide what to do with that freedom.

She hadn’t told anyone she’d sold the farm. Not even Ariel. Ariel would have a dozen suggestions. She’d tell her to buy a little house in town and then open a coffee shop or an art gallery. Maybe even a bed-and-breakfast. All of which would be assets to the town, but none of which appealed to Miranda. She thought of calling Max to tell him but she didn’t. She heard him on the radio, his voice so deep and resonant and so professional-sounding she wondered if it was the same person who’d paced the soccer field yelling words of encouragement to her nephews.

His love of the mountains and his understanding of the weather came through loud and clear on the radio and filled her with awe. It also filled her with longing. Longing to see him, to hear his voice up close and in person and to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers.

She’d asked him if she should sell the farm and she hadn’t forgotten his answer. “You have to do what’s right for you.” She was alone in this decision, as she was in life. And a farm was no place for a woman alone. At least not her. She’d given it her all and it wasn’t enough. She’d never believed it could happen, but she’d come to the end of her rope.

It seemed to her that the farm had never looked more beautiful. The apple trees were budding, the daffodils her grandmother had planted years ago were poking their green stalks through the earth along the front driveway. It made her ache inside to know she wouldn’t be there next year when they came up. She had to get away. She couldn’t stand to walk around the fields one more time. She put the horses out to graze and she called in sick. In a way she was sick. She had spring fever. Then she called Ariel, who hadn’t left for work yet.

“I’m going crazy. I’ve got to get away from here,” she confessed.

“What’s wrong?” Ariel asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. I just know I can’t stay here another minute. I’m going to take a walk somewhere.”

“How about up to the top of Mount Henry?” Ariel suggested innocently.

There was a brief pause. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea. They say it’s beautiful in the spring.”

“I’ve always wanted to see the wildflowers,” Miranda said thoughtfully.

“Who are you kidding, Miranda?” Ariel asked gently. “This is your sister, remember? You’ve always wanted to see the wildflowers and you’ve always wanted to see Max.”

“Max made his choice,” Miranda reminded her. “He chose his job and not me, and I don’t want to force him to tell me that again. It’s too painful.”

“I know, I know. But just give him one more chance.”

Miranda hung up. She didn’t know what she’d say if she saw Max again. She didn’t know if she’d tell him she’d sold the farm and that she was free to live anywhere she wanted. Anywhere he wanted. She didn’t know if she’d tell him she’d rather have him half time than anybody else full-time.

She gripped the steering wheel of her car tightly as she imagined coming face-to-face with Max. Her hands shook and her mind was spinning. When she arrived there were only a few cars in the parking lot. The sun was warm on her shoulders and the sky was clear, only a stray cirrus cloud or two scudding across the sky. Mindful of changing weather conditions, she wore hiking boots, long pants, a turtleneck polo shirt and a windbreaker tied around her waist. Max had told her the easiest climb was on the south face, a two-hour hike to the summit at the most. She strapped a day pack on her back and started out.

But she wasn’t accustomed to the thin mountain air and she climbed slowly, pausing frequently to drink from the canteen in her pack. The sun was high in the sky and her fate was in the hands of the gods... and Max.

On the top of the mountain Max walked back and forth on the observation deck, without noticing the clouds or the view or the new vegetation beneath him. He was thinking about the visit he’d had two days ago from the producer and the program director of the local radio station. They’d come to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. They wanted him to be their staff meteorologist. He didn’t even have to quit his job if he didn’t want to. They’d set him up with a fax machine and a computer with a modem. He’d do all his reports from right where he was. Wherever he was.

“Wherever I am?” he’d asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Anywhere,” they’d assured him. “That’s the way it’s done these days.”

He’d looked around the four walls, out the window to the mountains in the distance, and he’d known it was time to say goodbye to this mountain, to this solitude, to the pursuit of observing the weather. From now on he’d report the weather from somewhere else. It was time to take part in life instead of just observing it.

He’d accepted and then he’d quit his job.

And now it was time to tell Miranda. On this beautiful spring morning he called her, but she wasn’t at work today. He pictured her at home, outside in the field, when she didn’t pick up the phone. Maybe she was playing hooky. He called again. No answer. He didn’t leave a message. He wanted to tell her himself.

On the trail, Miranda saw wild lupine growing in the crevices where glaciers had once passed. She touched the layers of rock and she pictured the mountain as an ancient seabed. It was so awesome she didn’t notice the clouds that gathered until a few raindrops spattered her face.

Fortunately she had her waterproof windbreaker, guaranteed to shed water like a duck’s back, and her wool stocking cap in her pocket. This was a good time to test her gear, she thought as she continued upward. She pictured the surprised look on Max’s face when she appeared at his door, slightly wet, slightly tired, but on her own, no car, no Sno-Cat. And she’d decided what to say. She was going to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

If he said no, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Turn around and walk back down the mountain in the rain? If only it weren’t raining quite so hard now. Maybe she should have stayed home and made this offer by phone.

Up at six-thousand feet, the rain turned to hail as Max watched the temperature fall. He realized it probably wasn’t hailing in Vermont, but why in the hell didn’t she come into her house and answer the phone? At dusk he gave up and called Ariel. She told him Miranda had left hours ago to hike up the mountain.

He asked her which way she was coming, what trail she was taking. Ariel didn’t know, she had no idea. Her voice was shaky. He didn’t mention the hail. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll find her.”

“Okay,” she said, relieved.

He didn’t have a hard hat. He’d never seen one in the catalog. But if he ever needed one it was today. The hail was coming down in chunks the size of golf balls, bouncing off his head and shoulders as he made his way down the mountain. He could only hope it wasn’t hailing below or that she’d made it as far as the hiker’s hut. Had he told her about the hut? Had he told her the south face was the easiest to climb?

He berated himself as he slid in the pebbles of hail as the trail crisscrossed the slope. Why hadn’t he called her sooner? Yesterday? Why did it take a radio station to show him how to have everything he wanted, including Miranda? Didn’t he know by now that she came first, ahead of his job, ahead of everything? What if she’d been knocked down by the hailstones? They were certainly big enough.

When he got to the hiker’s hut he was staggering, dizzy and disoriented. He wrenched the door open to find her huddled in the corner, wet and cold, her eyes wide with wonder at seeing him there. She jumped up and threw her arms around him and they spun crazily on the dirt floor of the small hut, clinging to each other as if they were the last humans alive.

“How did you find me?” she demanded.

Gently he removed her hands from around the back of his neck while her face blurred before his eyes. “Can we sit down before I fall down?”

“What’s wrong? Were you hit by a hailstone?”