Indian Summer

"Others?"

"Yes, to others. You came here with your wife. Driving to Jackson Hole, about thirty years ago. Stayed at the same inn."

He staggered backwards under the weight of her words. "This-is-not-possible!" he gasped. "Not possible!"

"And yet you know it is, Tom. You should, of all people."

"Me? Why me?"

"You struggled so. Why?" She closed her eyes, placed her right hand on his belly. "Did it hurt much?"

"What?"

"The metastasized tissues, from your colin, to your liver and lungs. It was growing. Did it hurt much?"

"A little, yes."

She looked up at him with concern in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Come, let's go to the room now. You have so much to teach me!"

"Teach you? My God, what are you trying to teach me?"

"Me? The nature of reality."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Yup, that's all she wrote, folks!"

+++++

It was sex, pure and simple sex that first night -- there wasn't even one morsel of love in sight, not anywhere in their little room at the inn.

When they returned to the room, showered away the accumulated grime of two days wanderings, they fell dripping onto one of the single beds and consumed one another. There were raw oysters and steak on a stick, all covered in cream gravy, and no excuses made for the mess they left on the table. What Mary lacked in knowledge, Tom more than made-up for with barely restrained enthusiasm, and even all thoughts of mortality left him in the heat.

He had pinned her to the bed and buried his face between her thighs, driving his tongue so deeply between her nether folds that the muscles in his face began to ache, and after he'd lost count of her orgasms, when she begged him to stop just to let her catch her breath, when he'd pointed her legs to the heavens and driven his tongue deep inside her puckered anus, she'd screamed so loud he'd begun to wonder when the gendarmes would arrive. She was, he decided, an orgasm masquerading as a human being, a caged creature denied the simple truth of being a woman for far too long. She exploded into this bizarre new existence and her past melted away into the air like the barest wisp of smoke.

And yet she seemed to relish giving as well as receiving with an even more astonishing abandon. Her first tentative nibbles rapidly gave way to more frenzied dives, her twisting hands and swirling tongue driving him deeper into those less remembered warrens of molten release, those places he had long forgotten when the reliability of memory gave way to a survivor's needs. She bit him, coaxed him from all his usual hiding places, pulled his memories from their secret need and tore them to shreds, and the first time he came that first night she took all he had to give in her mouth, her dancing tongue driving his mind ever deeper into expanding clouds of blinding light.

And then she was on his face, kissing him, filling his mouth again before mounting his face, driving her need within their mingling essence. She drove through the clouds and the rain, leaning over, watching his eyes as she began pulling his mouth deeper into the womb of her need, deeper into the mists of desire that enshrouded her serial denials until he had spun her over, his spear poised for the final surrender, and he had looked into her eyes so gently before piercing her need.

Nothing he had ever experienced served to prepare his soul for what happened next.

Her legs had wrapped around his waist and she had pulled him in, then she held him there, her body trembling, tears streaming down her face. Holding himself up on his arms, he looked at her and he remembered Love. What it felt like to breathe love, to taste love, to look love in the eyes and feel the warmth of ten billion suns caressing his soul. He lowered himself into those eyes and moved in the currents of life and love again, felt himself carried along within the dancing eddies of an ever-expanding universe until his body too was atremble, until his need for release joined hers, and he held her within the night until there was nothing left but sweet sleep.

+++++

He tried to let her sleep in while he repacked the GS early the next morning, but he was always a restless traveller, always on fire to hit the road as soon as he could see the sun shining through treetops, and he was bending over, checking the oil when he felt her standing there. He stood, felt light-headed and she steadied him, then he felt her cradling him from behind, her hands on his chest, her face on the back of his neck.

"I love you so," he heard her whisper, then he felt the spreading warmth of tears on his back and he turned to meet this new need.

"Do you, indeed?" he said through his own wave of rain.

She looked up, caressed his face with her mouth, then their lips joined, their tongues danced.

He pulled away years later, looked into her eyes.

"No. Not now," he said, clearly wanting her again. "We have a short ride to make, then we can settle in for a while and figure all this out."

"The Tetons? Are we close?"

"Half a day, maybe."

"Are we going to camp?"

"No, but maybe we will in Colorado, at Mesa Verde, and at Arches, maybe."

"Arches?"

"National Park. Eastern Utah."

"Oh."

"You didn't get out much, did you?"

"No, not really."

"So, I guess I should ask...but do you really want to do this? Make this trip?"

"I want to be with you. I understand you want to do this, so that's good enough for me."

He looked at the simple purity in her eyes and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. Well, I'll settle up and then we can grab breakfast and hit the road. Sound good to you?"

She grinned broadly, nodded her head vigorously. She was almost like a little girl, he thought.

The sun was free of the trees when they pulled onto Highway 30 later that morning, the heat of day falling on their faces, their parched souls soothed by cool autumn airs. Then they were eastbound on 89, east of Montpelier, Idaho; he was gently banking the GS through long sweeping curves, and he heard her squealing more than once as the bike leaned, saw the shadows of her outstretched arms in the mirrors and he smiled at the memory of his own first time on the back of a bike.

That had been in the sixties, he recalled, on the back of an old tan Harley, sitting behind his dad. He could almost smell the old man's leather jacket again, the deep rumbling of that massive twin shaking the air as they cruised through the mountains of northern California towards Mount Shasta. Those golden hued days had been the best summer of his childhood, among the best days of his life; just he and his dad, riding the Pacific coast, darting into rain-soaked mountains from time to time, camping every night. Life had been reduced to the simplest equations that summer, everything had been clear. His mother had passed away at Christmas the winter before, yet they'd both remained ruggedly inconsolable, had taken comfort in the rituals she'd used to care for them over the years. They'd wake up, cook pancakes and bacon and eggs together almost every morning before heading out to school and work, and if anything, father and son had grown closer with each passing day...

He caught a shadow on the road ahead, and instinctively braked...HARD! The GS's anti-lock brakes dug into the coarse asphalt and he felt Mary's arms encircle his waist as she bike shuddered to a stop -- just as a herd of several hundred elk walked out slowly onto the roadway. The closest appeared to be no further than twenty yards ahead, but then he heard grass thrashing to his right and a deeper wave of Elk emerged from the shadows and began crossing the road, parting around the bike as they walked slowly by. He reached down slowly and turned off the engine, turned his head slightly to speak to Mary, but she beat him to it.

"I know," she whispered. "Don't move a muscle!"

"You got that right!" he whispered back.

One of the cows walked up to the bike, stopped and looked at him. The animal regarded him silently, as if wondering whether to walk around -- or over him, then it leaned in close and sniffed around his gut. The animal pulled back and regarded him once again, only this time he was sure he saw sympathy in her eyes, or at least some kind of understanding.

He kept his moves gentle and slow at this point, but he reached up and took off his helmet. The cow regarded him not at all differently, though one or two other elk slowed to watch while this happened. The cow leaned in once again and he felt the bristles around her nostrils brush the side of his face, then her breath blowing into his ear, and he was aware he had a strangle hold on the bike's grips -- as he tried to stifle the ticklish sensations wracking his body.

The cow leaned in closer still, placed it's forehead on his and pushed gently. He pushed back, then nuzzled the side of his face along hers for what seemed an eternity, then she stepped back from the bike.

"Oh, my," he heard Mary say, and he turned and looked around to see what had alarmed her.

"What the..." was all he could manage. The bike was completely surrounded by elk, but they had circled them and were standing side-by-side, facing inward, staring at him.

"This is a dream," he said after a moments silence. "This isn't real."

The cow came up and nudged him again, as if trying to push him off the bike, then she stepped away and walked off, then all the other elk parted and walked off into the aspen grove on the far side of the road. Within moments they had all disappeared, and he paddled the bike to the road's shoulder and flipped down the kickstand. Shaking inside, he dismounted and walked across the roadway and into the trees, looking for the animals -- but they had all simply disappeared.

"Now what the Hell was that all about!" he said when he got back to the bike. Mary was standing beside the bike, looking at a distant waterfall, lost to the world. He walked to her side, put his arm around her shoulders.

She jumped, startled, then came back to him.

"What was that?" he said again, this time gently.

"No coincidences, remember?"

"Okay, but what does it mean?"

"I don't know...yet." She turned and looked at him, her eyes full of questions. "It was kind of like she knew you, wasn't it?"

He nodded his head. "Impossible. It felt like a dream."

"Life is dream, Tom. It's as simple as that."

"Yeah. Row-row-row your boat..." he said through a sigh. "Who knows? Maybe it is."

"Life is where soul's come to dream, Tom, and sometimes it's where they come to play. For a while, anyway."

"If you say so." He turned and looked off into the aspens again, still shaking inside. "Well, we're burning daylight; let's get going..."

They stopped for lunch at Cafe Genevieve in Jackson, Wyoming, then left town and entered Teton National Park and rode along the base of the Tetons towards the Jenny Lake Lodge. He heard her gasp more than once when the mountains loomed ahead of the road.

"Nice, aren't they?

"I've never seen anything like this before!"

The wound slowly through aspen glades and pine forests, small lakes off to their left, the huge mountains always towering at arm's length just ahead and to the left of the road, then they turned into the lodge's parking lot and pulled up to the main building.

"Cabins?" Mary asked when they rolled to a stop."

"Sort of, but it's one of the best hotels in the country, bar none. Kind of a hidden gem, though. Not many people know about it."

He checked into his reserved suite, and they had the cabin for a week so they unpacked the bike completely, washed up then got back on and puttered over to Jenny Lake and parked there. He stretched, then they took off on foot down one of the trails that rolled along beside the northeast shore of the lake. A few aspens were already turning amber, but most were still vaguely greenish, though there were some larger deciduous trees, maples he guessed, whose leaves were already deep orange, verging on red. The air was still and cool, so the towering mountains left sharp reflections on the water, and behind each tree new views waited to take their breath away. They saw deer from time to time, and heard elk bugling across the lake, and they walked several miles. Though the pain in his gut was bothersome, Tom managed to enjoy the trail, and Mary seemed to as well, for that matter.

'She seems so alive out here,' he thought, 'almost reborn.'

"I think I'm getting hot," she said when they paused after scaling a long incline, and she was indeed sweating.

"Indian summer...must be eighty degrees out! Need to go into town and get you some shorts."

They both heard it...a loud snap on the trail just ahead, like a large branch cracking under the weight of something heavy...and he motioned her to crouch down beside him.

They heard heavy breathing next, and the unmistakable sounds of a large animal moving roughly through the forest, and all he could think about was not having bought any bear spray before coming out here, but he felt a cool breeze blowing on his back, blowing towards the sound coming from the woods, and he hoped the animal would pick up the scent and move away...

But then all sound stopped.

He turned his head slightly and saw the grizzly not fifty feet away, staring at them. The bear stood up, easily ten feet tall, and it let out a sound that crushed his very soul. The animal stared at him, stared into his soul, before settling back down on all fours and ambling down the hill towards the lake.

"I think it's time to get the fuck out of Dodge," he whispered, his heart hammering in his chest.

"That's sounds like a plan," he heard her say.

They walked quietly away from the scene, walked rapidly down the trail towards the bike, yet after a few hundred yards they picked up their pace and broke into a light jog. After several minutes they slowed again, stopped to look at the trail behind them, but they didn't feel like stopping -- yet, and continued on their way.

"That was a big goddamn bear!" he said when they got back to the parking lot, and he heard someone nearby ask:

"Did you see a bear? Where?"

"Yup. A silverback grizz, maybe two miles down that trail," he said, pointing.

"Did he see you?" the man asked.

"Yup!"

"How far away was he?"

"Forty, maybe fifty feet. I'm not sure."

"Jesus H Christ! Man, you two are lucky! There was a kid killed here last week; they're still looking for the bear that did it, too. You'd better report this to the rangers!"

Shaken, Tom looked back up the trail, then at Mary. "Easy to forget this isn't a petting zoo."

"I'll never forget that sound," Mary said. "Could we head back to the lodge now?"

"Yup, good idea. Anyway, I may need a change of underwear."

She laughed. A nervous little laugh, but she was clearly shaken, too. He started the GS then helped her on, and they puttered the mile or so back to the lodge. The whole time he wondered about the day's two encounters, and her continued insistence that there were no coincidences in life. If this was true, if there really was some sort of purpose to these encounters, what was going on? What did it all mean?

The sun had slipped behind the Tetons when they got back to the lodge, and after they'd dismounted he looked at his watch, shook his head when he saw it was already after six.

"Damn, the time's flying today," he muttered to himself.

"Are you going to report the bear?"

"Hmm, what?"

"Report, to the rangers?"

"Let's go see if someone at the desk can help us with that. I think we have dinner reservations soon, anyway."

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm still too goddamn scared to be hungry," he said as he took off his helmet. "Need help with yours?"

"Could you? My hand's are still shaking."

When he finished he stuffed their helmets into the GS's saddlebags and they walked inside and over to a gal who seemed to be more or less in-charge.

"We ran into a bear on the Lake Trail, and someone said we should report it. Could you help us with that?"

"Certainly, sir. Where were you, about," she asked, pointing at a map on her desk, "and how long ago did this happen?"

He filled in the details and the girl got on the phone and talked to a ranger for a moment, then she came back and asked if the animal had any yellow or purple paint visible on it's fur.

"No, no, I think I'd remember that, too."

"Okay." She returned to the phone, finished up the call then came back to them. "Was there anything else?"

"I think we have dinner reservations, but I can't remember the time?"

"Your name, sir?"

"Mann. Tom Mann."

"Oh, here it is. Yes, at seven, and you'll need a jacket, sir."

"Really?"

"Well, it's not a hard and fast rule, Mr Mann, but we encourage men to dress for dinner. It keeps the dust and sagebrush off the linens."

"Well, I need a drink, not a change of clothes. I hope you don't mind."

"I understand, sir. We can take care of you, right this way," she said, pointing to a small bar.

He sat in a corner, placed his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. He felt Mary there beside him, then he asked for two waters when the waitress came over. He shook his head when he looked up at the girl, then at his own shaking hands.

"Rough day?" the waitress asked.

"I've decided I don't really care for bears," he said, and the girl laughed.

"You have to take them seriously around here. All the way to Yellowstone."

"Heard there was trouble with a kid last week?"

"Happens up here every now and then, more than people might imagine. Sure you don't need something stronger?"

As he listened to the girl, and indeed, this conversation, he felt like he'd heard it all before somewhere...maybe a long time ago...then the girl took off to get their water.

"So," he said, turning to Mary. "No coincidences?"

"No. I don't think so."

"What did all this mean, then?"

There was a long silence between them now, but in the end Mary shrugged her shoulders, nodded her head.

"That elk? The cow? She kept pushing you, pushing you off the road. I think she was telling you to choose a different path than the one you were on. The bear? Well, he was blocking your path, wan't he? The first a subtle push, the second a more overt warning."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey, you asked, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"I asked you yesterday, and you blew me off. What were you running from?"

"My son. Our past."

"Why?"

"He doesn't know."

"That you're sick?"

He nodded his head.

"Why not?"

"His life has been coming apart at the seams ever since his mother died. He's just never been strong, strong enough for this, anyway."

"Oh? He wasn't strong? His life was coming apart at the seams? So, I suppose you thought your running away was going to save him the pain of watching you die?"

"Something like that."

"And then what? He finds out you died somewhere out here on the road, with some strange woman? How did you think he was going to feel then?"

"I really don't know."

"Come on, Tom. You dealt with sick people every day of your working life, so let me assume you're not as stupid as you must want me to think you are. How about abandoned. Lost, alone, and abandoned. Does that sound unreasonable?"

He shook his head. "I really don't know. I don't understand him at all."

Now it was her turn to feel lost, and perhaps a bit alone. How could this man, this gifted man, fail to see all the things she so obviously saw? What had happened to cause such blindness? "You didn't think your illness might have been a good time to bridge the gap, to overcome the loss of understanding between the two of you?"

"I doubt it would work out that way."

"Why?"

"We drifted apart."

"So?"

"Everything is repeating, Mary."

"Repeating? How so? You mean your mother? That she died when you were young?"

He nodded his head. "When I was seven. But...I never told you about that."