The Wildwater Walking Club (15 page)

I shook my head. “What,” I said.

“Noreen? Hi, it’s Rick.”

“Rick,” I said.

“Listen, I know I’m past the expiration date, but when I didn’t see you at group today, it just hit me that I might never see you again. I mean, you sure sounded ready to graduate last time. So, anyway, I was hoping you’d like to go out tonight.”

“And do what?” I asked, because I was curious.

“Wii tennis at the senior center?” he said.

I didn’t say anything.

“Kidding,” he said. “I was kidding. Dinner. A movie. Dinner and a movie. None of the above. Whatever you want to do.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m in Sequim.”

“What’s a squim?”

“It’s a town in Washington State. I’m here with some friends at a lavender festival.”

“How about next week?”

“Let’s talk about it next week,” I said.

“So will I see you in group on Monday?” he said.

“Maybe,” I said. “Depends on how tired I am. Maybe Monday or maybe Friday.”

“Okay, well, have a good time. See you next week, Noreen.”

“Different guy?” Rosie said after I’d closed my phone again.

“Mmm,” I said.

“You know,” Tess said. “I used to feel a little bit sorry for you, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Come on,” Rosie said. “Even I’ve had enough lavender for the day. Let’s go find a winery.”

This time I drove, while Tess and Rosie opened up winery tour maps.

“Okay,” Tess said. “We’ve got our choice of seven award-winning artisan wineries.”

“Just pick the closest one,” I said. “It’s not like we know anything about wine anyway.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tess said. “
Sideways
is one of my favorite movies.”

“Okay,” Rosie said. “Let’s try the ‘small family-owned winery on a wooded shoulder of Lost Mountain, in the Olympic foothills.’ It’s right in Sequim. Okay, head west on 101.”

“What a great spot,” I said when we pulled into the parking lot. What I was really thinking was what a romantic place to bring a date. The weathered wood building had a secluded, tree-canopied patio tucked in next to it. If I ever came back again, I wondered who’d be with me.

The tasting room was dark, almost like the inside of an oak barrel.

“Have you ever done this before?” I whispered. I wasn’t sure whether to pretend to be just looking or to make my way boldly up to the wine bar.

The woman standing behind the bar must have known we were rookies. “Step right up,” she said with a big smile. We each paid a small tasting fee and she handed us a menu. “You can choose any five wines to sample. We’ve got them listed in the best order for tasting, starting with the lightest, pinot grigio, and moving toward our boldest cabernet sauvignon. We specialize in robust reds made without sulfites.”

She turned to pour for three women standing next to us at the bar.

“This is so cool,” Rosie whispered. “I’m dying to spit in that big brass spittoon.”

“Don’t waste it,” Tess said. “I think they only give you half an ounce with each pour.”

We decided to skip the whites and jump right into the robust reds.

“That’s what we did, too,” one of the women standing next to us said. “You here for the lavender festival?”

We nodded.

“I have a small lavender farm in Massachusetts,” Rosie said. “I’m ready to pack it up and move it out here. They’re really on to something. You put eight lavender farms together and suddenly there’s a culture.”

One of the women laughed. “We were just plotting how we could move here from Ohio and start our own winery.”

“Nice jacket,” Tess said to the one who’d spoken.

“Chico’s,” she said. “Love that blouse.”

“Thanks,” Tess said. “J. Jill.”

“Ohmigod,” one of the other women said. “We found the best Target on the way up. I got these great exercise pants marked down to practically nothing.”

“Gotta love Tarjay,” I said. I tried to check out their feet to see if they were wearing sneakers and, if so, what kind they were, but it was too dark. “Are you walkers?”

“Kayakers,” Chico’s Jacket said. “We did three hours of sea kaya-king on Dungeness Bay this morning. Talk about an upper body workout.”

“Wow,” I said. “We’re planning to walk the Dungeness Spit out to the lighthouse while we’re here.” When she didn’t look that impressed, I added, “Five miles each way.”

“Over rough terrain,” Tess said.

Rosie rolled her eyes. “On our hands.”

Everybody laughed. I took a sip of our second wine, a cabernet franc, or cab franc, as I’d know enough to call it from now on.

The tallest of the three women reached for a cracker. “Whatever you do, don’t miss the REI flagship store in Seattle while you’re out here. It’s got a sixty-five-foot climbing wall.”

“Only sixty-five feet?” I said.

TESS ADDED SOME MORE LAVENDER HONEY TO HER TEA
. “
I
can’t believe we couldn’t even stay awake for the puffin cruise last night,” she said. “We’re a disgrace.”

Rosie took a bite of a tiny doughnut sprinkled with lavender sugar. “These are so good,” she said. “No we’re not. We just had a busy day. And we’ve got another one today.”

Tess shook her head. “And I still can’t believe we haven’t found lavender black currant champagne anywhere. Maybe it’s a bait and switch.”

“Maybe it’s a drink,” Rosie said. “You know, you muddle lavender and black currants together and then add champagne.”

“Too much work,” Tess said. “We’re on vacation.”

“I’m dying to learn how to make lavender wands,” I said. I took another sip of my lavender iced tea. “I thought my muslin lavender sachet bag came out great yesterday.”

“Boring,” Tess said. “I thought this was going to be a little bit more of an adventure, not a crafts session. Although I’m planning on making lavender halos with ribbon streamers on the first day back at school. The kids will love it, and halos couldn’t hurt in terms of setting the tone for the year’s behavior. I think I’ll send the directions to Annalisa when I hear from her.”

“Nothing yet?” Rosie asked.

“I’ll check again later,” Tess said. “Did you see that lavender pasta salad at that farm café yesterday? I am so having that for lunch. We might have to tack an extra five thousand steps on today. I was finally back into my old jeans before we left.”

“I think I’ll go for the lavender chicken tahini wrap this time,” Rosie said. “And I really want to try a piece of lavender cheesecake at some point. I’ll just throw out my old jeans, if it comes to that.”

I HELD UP
my finished lavender wand for the instructor to admire. “This is the coolest thing ever,” I said. “I want one for each of my drawers, and I think I might even hang one from the rearview mirror of my car. And my mother is so going to want one for her lingerie drawer.”

“I’d almost forgotten how to make these,” Rosie said. “My mother used to make them every year. Be sure the ribbon is pulled really tight, because it will loosen up as the lavender dries. And if the scent starts to fade, you just have to squeeze the wand, and it will renew.”

Tess held hers up. “They’re actually kind of phallic,” she said, “not that I’m complaining. Can we go do some more wine tasting today? If we start early, we might be able to get to the rest of the six wineries.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Let’s go back to the hotel, drop this stuff off, and pick up the car.”

We grabbed the C bus to the street fair, then hoofed it back to the hotel from there. Rosie sprawled out on the cot and checked her pedometer. “I feel great,” she said. “The air, the lavender, the food…”

“The fabulous company,” I said.

“The fabulous company,” she said.

Tess was firing up her laptop. “Check the news,” I said on my way into the bathroom. “That video can’t still be up, can it?”

“Oh, no,” Tess was saying when I came out.

“Damn,” I said. “It’s still up?”

“Oh, no,” Tess said again in a tiny voice.

“What?” Rosie said. She sat down beside Tess on the couch.

I was afraid to sit down. Maybe Hannah had been arrested, or worse. I should have told Tess I knew she was sneaking around. The point wasn’t whether or not Hannah would have ever spoken to me again. I should have done it to keep her safe. And because Tess was my friend.

I made myself sit down on Tess’s other side. A message filled her computer screen.

Tears were burning my eyes and streaming down my face. “Ohmigod,” I said. “I can’t believe it.”

“It just sucks,” Rosie said. She pulled a travel pack of tissues from her purse and passed them around. “She was so young. Wasn’t she?”

Tess blew her nose. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I think she was probably our age. But we have to go.”

“Go?” I said.

Tess was already searching for flights. “The memorial service. We have to go to Annalisa’s memorial service.”

“Do you have any idea how much it would cost us to fly from Seattle to New Orleans tomorrow?” I said. “Plus, we’d have to buy another ticket back to Boston, too.”

“Maybe we can get a bereavement fare,” Tess said. “I think we just have to show a copy of the death certificate.”

“Tess,” I said. “You can’t get a copy of Annalisa’s death certificate. You barely knew her.”

Tess slid her laptop down to the coffee table and closed it like a coffin. She put her elbows on her knees and buried her head in her hands. Rosie sniffed. I blew my nose.

Tess lifted her head up. “If this were the movie of our lives, we’d go.”

Rosie smiled. “It would be the montage part. Everything would go all slow motion and we’d be running to make the plane. And then there’d be scenes from Annalisa’s life, and our lives, too.”

“And music,” I said. “Maybe ‘Stairway to Heaven.’”

“No, that’s all wrong,” Rosie said. “Minnie Riperton’s ‘Lovin’ You.’ You know, the one with the bird sounds. I bet Annalisa liked that song.”

“‘Let It Be’ by the Beatles,” Tess said. “I think that would be classy. I like the line about whispering words of wisdom.”

“I wish I had some,” I said. I could feel my lower lip start to quiver again, and I bit down on it hard.

“So what do we do then?” Tess said.

I blew my nose again and thought about it. “We buy a couple bottles of local wine….”

“And a corkscrew,” Rosie said.

“And a corkscrew,” I said. “And we take them down to the Five-Mile Dungeness Spit. We walk the whole way out, and we celebrate Annalisa’s life. We’ll stay there as long as it takes. All night, if we have to.”

Tess pushed herself to her feet. “I’m in,” she said. “But maybe we should make lavender black currant champagne instead. I think Annalisa would like that.”

NANCY, OUR SNEAKER-CLAD
friend at the front desk, talked the bartender in the lounge into selling us two bottles of champagne and drew directions to the Dungeness Spit on a hotel map for us. She circled a description in a brochure and gave us that, too.

“You can’t drink there,” she said. “It’s a national wildlife refuge.”

“Don’t worry,” Tess said. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Watch the tides,” Nancy said. “And the light.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We live near the beach.”

Culinary lavender was easy to find at the street fair, and at the far end we finally found a farm stand with black currants.

Tess slipped the little green cardboard box of black currants into a plastic bag and tied it tight.

Rosie unzipped her backpack again. “I’m so glad I brought one of the kids’ backpacks,” Rosie said. “But we’re going to have to take turns carrying it. Between the water and the champagne, it’s pretty heavy.”

“Okay,” I said. “It says we head west on Highway 101, then turn north on Kitchen-Dick road.”

“There’s a joke there,” Tess said. “But I’m not in the mood.”

“Do you think we should bring food, too?” Rosie asked. “Just to absorb the champagne?”

“We’ll be fine,” Tess said. “We’ll have a late dinner when we get back. I’m too sad to eat.”

Tess put the backpack on when we got to Kitchen-Dick Road, and I read from the directions. “Continue three miles to the Dungeness Recreation Area.”

We were quieter than usual, and instead of our alternating dance of one up front, two behind, we walked single file. We stopped about midway for water, and I took over the backpack.

At the Dungeness Recreation Area parking lot, we took another water break. Normally, we would have checked our pedometers, but I guess we were all too busy thinking about Annalisa.

We walked up a gradual hill and passed a campground. We made a stop at the restrooms, refilled our water bottles at the water fountain, then paid our fee at the Dungeness National Wildlife Refuge entrance booth.

“I’ll count you all as one family, so that’ll be three dollars,” the man in the booth said. “Just put the money in the slot right there.”

“Thanks,” Rosie said. “That’s really nice of you.”

He looked at his watch. “You’re only going to have time to make it to the overlook. That’s three-eighths of a mile. It’s about another five miles out to the lighthouse, so it’s too late for that today. The
refuge closes promptly at dusk. You sure you don’t want to come back tomorrow instead? I’ll give you a full refund.”

“Nah,” Tess said. “We’re big spenders.”

“Watch the light,” the man said, “and don’t stay out there too long.”

We were definitely walking against the traffic. We spread out across the trail when we could but had to keep stepping right to make a single file so people could walk by us on their way out. There were families, couples, and groups of friends. Most of them looked pretty exhausted.

The forested trail dropped steeply but gracefully as it meandered down to the water. “This is gorgeous,” Rosie whispered.

I read the little plaques at the base of the plants as we passed them. Oceanspray. False lily-of-the-valley. Douglas Fir, Tess’s old boyfriend, was the only one I recognized.

We took turns peering through two big telescopes when we got to the overlook.

“Will you look at those mountains,” Rosie said. “So amazing.”

“And that’s some wild water,” Tess said. “Wow, the lighthouse is a long way out. I mean, is this the mother of all sand spits, or what?”

I sat down on a bench and took out my brochure. “It says the lighthouse closes at dusk, too. But they also have picnic tables out there.”

“Wouldn’t they be closed if the lighthouse is closed?” Rosie said.

“That’s ridiculous,” Tess said. “How can you close a picnic table?”

“We’re pretty fast walkers,” I said. “We’ll be back before we know it.”

“There’s probably no better place in the world to drink a toast to Annalisa,” Tess said.

“It’s totally insane,” Rosie said. “Come on, let’s do it.”

We made our way carefully down a steep hill, then picked up our pace as we walked onto the spit. The crashing of the waves was
unexpectedly loud, and the wind whipped our hair all over the place.

But the driftwood was the biggest surprise. Huge weathered logs, even whole trees, plus tons and tons of smaller pieces of sun-bleached driftwood were scattered all along our path. They seemed to anchor the narrow strip of sand somehow, as if maybe without all these huge hunks of wood, the spit would simply wash out to sea.

“It’s almost like a sculpture garden,” Rosie said.

“Or a graveyard,” Tess said.

Four women with white hair and matching purple fanny packs were just coming off the spit. “What a workout,” one of them yelled.

“Too late to make it now,” another said when they got closer. “It’ll be dark before you know it.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Tess said. She pointed to me. “My friend just left her jacket on a rock back there.”

“Brown,” I said. “With a hood.”

We tried to stay on the packed sand close to the water and away from the piles of rocks higher up, which slipped and slid under our feet and made the going tough. We walked quickly, swinging our arms and stretching out our legs. My calves were a little bit tight, but other than that, I felt great. It was amazing to think that not so very long ago, I wasn’t sure if I could walk a lap around Wildwater Way.

Now I knew that the hardest part of any workout was just putting on your sneakers. Once you got started, all you had to do was keep placing one foot in front of the other, no matter what was or wasn’t happening in your life, no matter how happy or sad you were. I’d taken that first step because I’d wanted to look better. I’d wanted my clothes to fit. But it hadn’t taken me long to figure out that the biggest benefit was less about vanity than it was about sanity. Walking always helped.

A bald eagle soared overhead. A harbor seal stretched out on a rock.

“Aww,” we all said as it slithered off the rock and dove into the water.

The spit kept turning to the right, so all we could see ahead of us was water.

“I’ll feel better when we can actually see the lighthouse,” Tess said. “I know it’s out there, but it still seems like blind faith. Not to sound religiously incorrect or anything, but it really is a little bit like walking on water.”

“I wish I could tell how much longer we have till sunset,” Rosie said. Off to our left, an orange-glow sun was looking suspiciously low over the snowcapped mountains.

Finally, we saw the lighthouse and a couple of other buildings up ahead.

Rosie stopped walking. “Okay, I know we’re more than halfway there, but I think if we turn around now, we can still make it back before dark.”

Tess stopped and looked around. “We’re almost there,” she said.

“I really think we should go back,” Rosie said.

Ahead of us, the lighthouse beckoned. It was a tall lighthouse, with an expanse of rolling green lawn all around it.