“What’s happening, Cammie?” I asked.
She stared, not recognizing me.
“Sharon McCone. We met at Petals-”
“Oh, right. Would you mind…?” She motioned with her head that she wanted to get around me.
I took a couple of pillows from the top of the bundle, stepped back, and followed her to the car. “You moving in with Rich-?”
“No. That’s over. I’m going back to the Bay Area.” She stuffed the comforter into the trunk, took the pillows from me.
“What happened?”
She didn’t reply, punching the pillows into place as if they were defying her.
“Does this have to do with Rich’s affair with T.C. Mathers?”
She slammed the trunk lid shut and turned to face me. “God, how many more people have to remind me of that? No, it does not.”
“What, then?”
“None of your damn business.”
“The two of you were on a camping trip. What went wrong?”
“What can go wrong on a camping trip? A bear ate our food? We burned the s’mores? Rich didn’t catch any fish? Take your pick!”
“Seriously…”
“Seriously, I’m out of here. Go away!”
“Cammie-”
She straightened, balling her fists. “You want to know what’s wrong? This place. People talking and prying into your life. People who don’t really care about anybody but themselves, and will do anything to avoid responsibility.
No sense in antagonizing her further. I went.
Rich Three Wings was chopping wood again. The sound of the axe smashing its target rang out over the quiet waters of Elk Lake. Given the sorrow and aggravation he’d suffered recently, he’d soon have enough logs to fill all the fireplaces of Vernon.
He heard me approach and turned, eyes reflecting the fire from the late afternoon light off the lake.
“What do
“I saw Cammie-”
“Fuck Cammie!”
“What went wrong, Rich? You were camping in Toiyabe-”
“Who said we were in Toiyabe?”
“The clerk at Petals.”
“Verna? Stupid bitch doesn’t know one camping place from another. We were over in Yosemite.”
But the clerk had been sure that they’d gone to the national forest.
“Whatever,” I said. “Something went wrong, though.”
“Damn right it did!” He turned away, resumed his chopping.
“You want to talk about it?”
No answer, just the ringing of the axe.
“Rich?”
“No, I
“But she’s moving back to the Bay Area. It must’ve been serious.”
He pivoted, the axe held high, the sunlight making its metal blade shine as fiery as his eyes. “What part of ‘no’ don’t you understand?”
I began moving away, watching him carefully. “I understand you’re hurting. You know where you can find me if you need a friend.”
It was nearing dusk and Petals was closed. I walked two doors down to Hobo’s and asked the friendly bartender with whom I’d spoken nearly two weeks earlier if he knew where Verna lived.
“This got to do with Miri?” he asked.
“In a way. I want to buy some flowers.”
“Poor Miri. But I don’t think there’ll be a service. Just cremation and her ashes scattered on the lake.”
“These are for Sara and Ramon-to try to cheer them up.”
“Nice idea. Verna’s out at that trailer park where Miri’s daughter got herself killed.”
“You know which space?”
“Just look for the Airstream with all the rosebushes outside.”
The rosebushes were blooming. I could see their huge blossoms even in the dim light. Verna must be some gardener, I thought. Rosebushes could be coaxed to bloom year-round at California’s lower levels, but I’d never seen them this late in the fall at such a high altitude. The trailer was one of those streamlined silver ones. Light glowed behind its closed blinds, and music filtered out-something soothing and classical that I didn’t recognize. Maybe Verna’s choice of music was what made the roses grow so well. More likely it was her green thumb: some people just have the knack. For others, like me, the thumb is black.
She answered my knock after a few moments, wearing a Japanese-style robe, her hair wrapped in a terry cloth turban. I gave her my card, said I had a few questions about Cammie Charles’ and Rich Three Wings’ camping trip.
“Why?” she asked.
“I spoke with Cammie about an hour ago. She’s moving back to the Bay Area.”
“I know. She called and asked me to cover for her at the shop tomorrow.”
“What happened?”
Verna didn’t answer the question, but she let me inside. She turned off the music, motioned me to be seated in one of a pair of armchairs facing a small TV.
“I’m worried about Cammie.” She reached for a pack of cigarettes on the table between us. “You mind?” she asked.
“No,” I lied. “Were she and Rich camping in Yosemite or Toiyabe?”
She flicked a lighter, inhaled deeply, and blew out a plume of smoke. “Toiyabe. I told you that before.”
“You did, and that’s what puzzles me. Rich claims they were in Yosemite.”
“No way. Cammie’s still an urbanite-deathly scared of ‘something bad happening’-as if it wasn’t more likely to happen in the Bay Area than here.” She paused, probably reflecting back on the events of the past weeks. “Well, it
“Did she call this time?”
“Yeah. They were at a combination gas station and convenience store off of 395.”
“Was Rich with her when she made the call?”
“I don’t know- No, wait. She said he’d forgotten to bring beer and was inside picking up a couple of six- packs.”
“You know where they went in Toiyabe?” From what I remembered of my only visit to the forest, there were a number of places where you could enter: some led to secondary roads, others only to trailheads.
“Devil’s Gate, a few miles before Fales Hot Springs. There’s no overnight parking or camping there, so they’d pull the car off into the trees and hike in to some favorite place of theirs.” She stubbed out her cigarette, which was only halfway smoked. “Trying to quit. Figure if I only smoke part… But that’s bull and I know it.”
“Did Cammie explain what went wrong on the trip?”
“Not really. She said something they saw up there and Rich’s reaction to it that told her he wasn’t the man she thought he was.”
“Something they saw?”
“That was all she said.” Verna shrugged. “If you ask me, Cammie’s trying to throw a scare into Rich.”
“Why?”
“Because he won’t marry her. She gave me a phone number where I could reach her in the Bay Area. Probably she thinks I’ll pass it on to him and he’ll come after her.”
