Take Only Pictures Part 23

"You're not going by Indian Falls?"

It was a favorite spot of hers. When they were young, the large rock formation below the falls had always looked like a giant St. Bernard, its head resting on its paws. For years her father had tried to show them how it also looked like a woman bent over, was.h.i.+ng her hair in the creek. Once she'd been able to see both images, it had become a ritual to stop by. Coming back home for holidays, she'd often stop there first, and if it was warm, she'd swim before completing the last leg of the trip.

"It's not a huge detour to stop there and still take the canyon to the interstate," she said, ignoring what he was really asking her. He knew she had promised to visit Gloria on the Northcoast. If she took Highway 36, which pa.s.sed Indian Falls, she'd be heading west to the coast which had been her plan before she'd received the job offer, before she'd heard the words that were supposed to fulfill her dreams. "We'd like to offer you a job."

In a week, she'd be receiving her first a.s.signment from the nature magazine she'd thought was a long shot when she applied. She still couldn't believe they had hired her. Gloria had been thrilled and countered Kristine every time she said she couldn't believe it, reminding her over and over how great her portfolio was and how much she deserved the position. Maybe she had hoped for Gloria to be disappointed, for her to say that she had hoped Kristine would ditch the offer and come to Eureka as planned.

"Dad's proud of you."

Kristine smiled. "Yeah. Hearing him say that is almost as good as it was seeing him eat dirt back when we were training Crackers. I loved that horse for throwing him off. I think I know what she felt like now."

Gabe laughed at that. Kristine waited, knowing he had something on his mind that he was trying to phrase. He looked down the road she'd be taking in a moment and said, "Don't you think San Diego is a long way in the wrong direction?"

Kristine laughed. "No, I don't think San Diego..." She dropped her voice to match the timbre of his "...is a long way in the wrong direction." She studied her brother, thankful for his concern but firm when she said, "It's my dream job. It's what I always wanted."

"What you want now, or what you always wanted?" Her brother waited until she met his eyes. "It's good to be sure of that." He pushed away from the truck and knocked his knuckles on the hood as he walked back to the barn, calling out, "Safe trip," over his shoulder.

Kristine climbed into the cab and said goodbye to the ranch, knowing she would only ever be back to visit. She rolled down the window and rested her elbow on the doorframe to enjoy the familiar turns of the mountain road and the fall foliage decorating the riverside. She took the Highway 36 turnoff. It's only a five minute detour, she thought, turning the wheel to the right. Just a few minutes past the turnoff, she recognized the rock face she was looking for, catching a glimpse of the woman was.h.i.+ng her hair before the road curved, and trees blocked her view. She slowed even more, looking for the tiny worn "falls" just off the road. No cars were parked at the trailhead, always her preference.

Letting the steep trail pull her, she jogged quick switchbacks down the mountain, recalling how many times she and Gabe had raced ahead of their parents as they called warnings to be careful to deaf ears. She was out of breath by the time she reached the water, collected in a wide, clear pool at the small slip of beach. Climbing the rocks to her left, she scampered closer to the wide waterfall and sat on an outcrop of rocks, enjoying the roar of the water drowning out everything else in the world. The mist from the falls kissed her skin, awakening her senses. Determined to sort through her thoughts, she hiked downstream until she could see the rock face that still mesmerized her as it s.h.i.+fted from one image to the other.

The job offer was everything she'd wished for and worked toward, and as she'd told Gabe, she relished the pride she saw in her father's face when she shared the news. But Gabe had said something that stuck with her. Was that her current dream or what she had once dreamed? She hadn't shared with Gabe how hard it had been to tell Gloria about the job. She left out how she thought Gloria would tell her not to go and how she would not have argued if Gloria had asked her not to take it.

She thought again about the photography trip at the Lodge. She enjoyed her guests, getting to know them as well as teaching them. Watching them master new techniques was hugely satisfying. Hadn't she felt happy coming in from that trip, like she'd really accomplished something? She'd been completely fixated on using her MFA artistically, teaching held no appeal. She'd regularly rejected her father's suggestion to teach photography at the local community college if she "had such an investment in playing with her camera." She considered the parts of backcountry trips that she liked so much, the parts that fit nicely with her gregarious personality. She enjoyed explaining the things she knew and loved about the backcountry and packing to guests. Wouldn't that be similar in a cla.s.sroom setting? New students and new cla.s.ses each semester would mirror the series of trips she led in the backcountry. She'd always known she was good at drawing people out, but she hadn't realized how satisfying that was when linked with watching someone learn. Thinking about it that way made teaching seem not like a dead end but rather a promising trail.

But she'd heard nothing from the art department at Humboldt State, and the position they'd flown was for the spring semester, anyhow. If she turned down this job in San Diego, she'd be in the same position she'd always been in at the ranch, dependent on someone else.

She stared at the rock face until she could see the St. Bernard's face and saw herself, off on a.s.signments with her camera around her neck like the dog portrayed with the cask of brandy around its neck. She'd be a wanderer. And alone, still trying to prove herself to her father. Then there was the woman, the other choice, a tantalizing woman completing the domestic ch.o.r.e of was.h.i.+ng her hair. She visualized herself making a home with Gloria. Two choices. Professional or domestic. She heard her father's argument again and wondered if he was right, that if she sacrificed the magazine job and found no full-time work in Eureka, she might eventually grow to resent Gloria just as she had her father for so many years.

For the first time in her life, she actually wished she didn't have the job offer in front of her, pulling her in a direction she was no longer sure she wanted to go. She looked at her watch. If she left now, she'd make it to San Diego by suppertime. Or Eureka by lunch. She decided to ask the universe. She shut her eyes and concentrated. She would open her eyes and let the first image the rock face offered determine her decision. She cleared her mind, took a deep breath, and opened her eyes. She let out a long, slow breath cementing the image before she hiked out of the valley.

Her whole body tingled with antic.i.p.ation by the time she reached the truck. She slid behind the wheel and pulled up to the road. To the right, the Northcoast and Gloria; to the left, the more direct route to the interstate and San Diego. Calling up the image she'd seen when she opened her eyes, she eased out the clutch and pulled onto the road.

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

"It sure is nice having you home," Gloria's dad said, balancing the level on the shadowbox she held in place. A pencil sat behind his ear in scraggly blondish hair.

"I'll look for a place of my own soon, I promise," Gloria said.

"Funny. I thought I just heard myself say that we enjoy having you home."

"If I don't get an apartment of my own, Mom will start to think I'm worried she's sick."

Her father set down the level, lines crossing his high forehead exposed by his receding hairline. "So it's a covert mission."

"Exactly." Gloria s.h.i.+fted under the weight of the shadowbox.

His light blue eyes twinkled as he marked where he wanted to insert the hanging screws.

"Mail call," Gloria's mother called from the kitchen. "Looks like you got a card from your backcountry babe."

Gloria glanced down the hallway but didn't move.

"Set it down," her father said, removing his gla.s.ses and rubbing them on his s.h.i.+rt. "I'll get the screws in, and we'll hang the box later."

"About time," her mom said when Gloria joined her. "What if she's sent a picture. I want to see," her mother said, waggling the card.

"You can open it," Gloria said, not wanting to hear what Kristine had to say after their conversation. She felt foolish for finding comfort in Kristine's idea that though they weren't on the same trail, they had a shared destination. She poured a gla.s.s of water as her mother opened the envelope.

"Oh, this is lovely." What she always said. "Is that you?"

Reluctantly, Gloria held out her hand. On the front was a black-and-white shot at the trailhead to Shadow Lake. In the foreground of the lower left-hand corner was the "Welcome to the Backcountry" sign. Blurred in the upper right-hand corner was a backpacker. Kristine must have been on her belly on the trail, emphasizing the last lines of the sign, Take only Pictures; Leave only Footprints.

Her stomach dropped reading the words she'd spoken back when she was trying to convince Kristine to have a summer fling. Had she decided that was all their time together was after all?

She flicked open the card and read Kristine's words. Lovely Gloria, Thank you for understanding why I need to pursue this job offer. Bear with me, please. Love, Kristine "What happened to her coming out here to capture our wonders?"

Gloria sat down at the table. "She got a job."

"That's fabulous news!" She paused, studying her daughter and then sat next to her at the table. "That's not fabulous news."

"It's in San Diego."

"San Diego is perfect. Isn't that just a few hours from the Ontario office? Surely they'd have you back."

"Yes. But she's being stubborn about wanting to go down there on her own. She has this thing about how I'm already successful, and how she needs her chance to establish herself."

"Stubborn as the mules she raises?" her mother laughed. She pointed at the card. "May I?"

Gloria nodded and watched her mother read Kristine's words a few times. "What do you think?"

"She's witty. I like that. Maybe this will be like an old-fas.h.i.+oned courts.h.i.+p. And you're in the same state for heaven's sake. There are people who live on opposite coasts who make it work. You're the one who was always saying people crowd you and how much you like your independence."

Gloria picked up the card, considering it from the angle her mother proposed. Kristine got her need for s.p.a.ce and quiet. Even if they were in the same room, Kristine had a way of not crowding Gloria. Even though the cabin and her camper were tiny, she never felt her typical need to escape.

"I want everything. I want her and you. I want my job and the redwoods. I sound like Meg. When she says that, I want to run. I don't want to sound like that and push Kristine away. I want to trust her when she says long distance can work."

"But?"

"I don't know if I'm cut out for long distance. I want to know that it all works out."

"You always were a read-the-end-of-the-book-first kind of girl."

"How else do you know if it's worth reading?"

"Faith. My sweet. You're supposed to have faith that the storyteller wouldn't be telling you the story if it wasn't worth it. And Kristine seems worth it."

Gloria hmphed and leaned into her mother's hug. She knew that her mother was right, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.

Chapter Thirty-Nine.

The familiarity of the college town instantly put a smile on Kristine's face. She parked across the highway from campus and found a coffee shop. She bought a local paper to read while she had her lunch, though she barely turned any pages, thinking instead of what she was going to say when she walked over to campus and whether their answer mattered much in this crazy decision she'd made to follow her heart.

Once fortified, she strode purposefully toward campus, her portfolio under her arm. She marveled at the redwoods that stood as a backdrop. Gloria had been right about how much she'd want to capture her beloved Northcoast on film. She dawdled at the footbridge, admiring the artful graffiti before tackling a steep set of stairs.

She stood nervously outside of the art department door even after she'd caught her breath and figured out what to say. Finally, she reached forward, turned the k.n.o.b and pulled open the door.

"I'll be right with you," a harried man maybe five years older than Kristine said before returning to his phone call. She nodded and studied the office, the flyers announcing opportunities for scholars.h.i.+ps and graduate programs, a few students filling out paperwork at the counter. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but she realized she'd been listening to lists of schedule conflicts. Sounding more frustrated by the minute, the man wrapped up the phone call. He closed his eyes, stretched his neck and brought his attention to Kristine.

"How can I help you?" he asked, still seated.

Kristine gulped. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time and that this doesn't come off as inappropriate," she began. "I filed an application for adjunct work, but my contact information has changed. I'd like to update it."

"Please tell me you're Kristine Owens," he said, sounding hopeful.

"Yes," she said, surprised he had her name at the tip of his tongue.

"I'm Aaron, the office administrator." His face brightened immediately. "I've left message after message for you at the number you provided."

"I'm so sorry," Kristine said. "I just wrapped up a job in the High Sierras where the cell reception is poor, so it's the business number you have. They've all cleared out for the season now."

His hands flew through piles of papers, finally landing on what she gathered was her application. He scanned through it, his expression changing in front of her from harried to surprised to excited. "Not a problem now as long as you're still interested in working for us."

"Of course."

"Can you meet with some people today?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, stunned and a little confused about the rush.

"And you could start right now."

It was a statement, not a question, which confused her. "I, uh...yes I could," she said, taken aback.

"Let me grab our department chair."

Even more confused, Kristine simply nodded.

"Don't move. I'll be right back." He looked at her again as if committing what she looked like to memory. After he left, she self-consciously checked what she was wearing. Her outfit was more appropriate for a barn than an art department, but at least her jeans were on the newer side and her s.h.i.+rt and boots both clean. She sat, wondering what was happening with the department chair. She hadn't had time to create an answer when he was back with an older woman on his heels.

"Miss Owens?" the woman said.

Kristine nodded. The woman's suit jacket was the only part of her that implied management. Her jeans and loose blouse suggested she felt more at home in a studio. She'd swept her long gray hair back in a messy bun held by what might have been a red chopstick.

"I'm Natalie Stettner, Department Chair. We've been trying to track you down for days." The radiant smile and extra squeeze of Kristine's hands when they shook conveyed just how excited she was.

"Yes. I'm so sorry about the defunct number I had on file. I promise you can reach me easily now."

"Let's talk in my office. Aaron, you'll put together a packet for me?"

"Already working on it," he said.

Though confused by their exchange, Kristine followed the chair down the hall to her office, which confirmed her guess that Natalie was herself an artist. Oil paintings, sketches and watercolors covered the walls. Her desk was piled high with papers, and the floor had various stacks of books. "I really should use the chair's office back in the department, but it still doesn't feel right to me. I'm a little new at this-my first semester as chair," Natalie explained. "An a.s.sociate professor became ill and is facing complications we knew would keep her from returning next semester. But her health has declined rapidly, so we're having to cover her cla.s.ses for the rest of this semester as well. We need a subst.i.tute immediately. Aaron's been striking out all week, and then he calls with this news that the perfect replacement is standing in the office."

Kristine blinked. "Perfect replacement?"

"You do have your MFA?" Natalie said, flipping through Kristine's application.

Kristine nodded. Her afternoon was going nothing like she'd planned. She had hoped to get a feel for the department. When she'd opened her eyes at the falls and recognized the image of the woman was.h.i.+ng her hair first, she felt the pull of the coast, of Gloria, and responded. She'd hoped, at best, for some positive feedback about her application for any part-time cla.s.ses for spring semester, but had never dreamed of something being available right now.

"And you've taught before?"

"I taught a few undergrad cla.s.ses while I finished my graduate degree. But since my interns.h.i.+p photographing museum pieces ended, I've been working on my portfolio, thinking that I wanted to pursue a professional career."

Natalie's gaze s.h.i.+fted to the portfolio at Kristine's side. "May I?"

Kristine nodded, handing over her work. She watched the woman's facial expressions as she studied the pages, feeling hopeful as she inspected each photo closely rather than scanning them quickly. When she finished the portfolio, Natalie sat back in her chair. "It's an impressive portfolio. I'm surprised you haven't found anything in the professional realm."

"Actually, I just did. I have an offer from a magazine down in San Diego, but this summer changed my priorities in a lot of ways. I had the opportunity to teach on a photography trip for a pack station in Mammoth." She described her students, the terrain and the techniques they had covered during the five-day trip. "Until that trip, I hadn't even considered teaching as an option, but I'm a social person, and when I really started to think about accepting the magazine's offer, I realized it wouldn't be as good a fit for me."

"And Humboldt is a good fit?"

Kristine thought of the primary reason she was here, and when she thought of Gloria, she blushed, but she remembered Gloria saying she'd love to see the Northcoast through Kristine's lens and quickly tapped back into her professional brain. "Look at this environment! Who wouldn't want to be teaching photography here?"

"Indeed," Natalie said, smiling. "I've seen enough to know that you can handle this job. The nature photography cla.s.s will be a lot like what you described doing this summer. I see in your portfolio that you have the skills to teach our studio photography cla.s.ses. The only question left is whether you want to take over as instructor of record on Monday. We're three weeks into the semester, and I do want to warn you that these cla.s.ses are off to a rocky start. They've missed multiple sessions while we've been struggling to find someone."

Kristine could see the chair waiting for a response, but every cell in her body was busy going haywire, making speech impossible. What would Gloria say? She hadn't even asked, but it was Friday. Clearly, this woman needed an answer before the weekend. The universe had opened a door, so she bravely took a step forward. "Yes, absolutely."

"You seemed to hesitate. Are you committed to your professional offer in San Diego?"

Kristine rushed to a.s.sure her. "Oh, I'm thrilled. I'm just shocked is all. Your offer feels like an answer to a prayer."

Natalie Stettner sank back in her chair, a look of relief relaxing her considerably. "Thank you for saving us," she said. "Aaron was just starting to think I would have to take over the cla.s.ses. What a disaster that would be, a sculptor trying to teach photography!"