“I would love to ski Helens someday,” Pete said.
Cassidy paused. Was this an invitation? Despite the coolness of the water, Cassidy felt a warm flush rise in her cheeks. “Yeah, me too,” she said. After dunking her head one last time to wash the feeling away, she swam to the edge of the pool.
Pete followed. Emerging from the water side by side, their bare arms almost touching, she felt a subtle shift in the energy around them.
They each dried off with their extra clothes and put on their shoes. She squeezed her braid one last time and pulled the extra T-shirt over her head. Pete glanced her way, and their eyes locked for a moment. Blood whooshed past her ears, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She looked away, and after each of them gathered their things, she led the way down the trail.
The shift in atmosphere persisted during the remaining ride down the mountain, and they talked little. By the time they arrived at the parking lot, her insides were in knots.
“So, I’ll probably have some follow-up questions,” Pete said while she idled the Suburban in the grocery store parking lot. “Okay if I call you?”
“Of course,” she said.
He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but it passed. “Well,” he said, grabbing his pack from the backseat, “Thanks again.” Pete slid from his seat and stepped to his car. She made sure he got in and started it—she’d never forgive herself if she left him here alone to deal with a breakdown, and from the looks of his car that seemed like a very real possibility. This was the kind of thing her dad had always done, and the memory of his kind face and steady voice brought on a sweeping sensation of warmth.
Pete’s lights came on, pulling Cassidy from her memory, and so she put the Suburban in gear and drove into the night.
Three
University of Washington, Seattle
November 4, 2014
Cassidy gathered her folders and shuffled out of the classroom behind her twenty-seven Geology 101 Lab students, snippets of their conversations rising above the din.
“. . . totally stressing out, it’s gonna be so hard . . .”
“. . . gonna meet her for coffee . . .”
“. . . I couldda killed that guy, I mean, if he thinks . . .”
“. . . ugh, my mom’s gonna freak . . .”
After clearing the pack, she bee-lined to her office, located in a separate building across a small courtyard behind Johnson Hall. Rain fell steadily but Cassidy didn’t stop to put on the raincoat hanging over her arm. After living in Seattle for three years, she had grown used to the wet weather, and it didn’t bother her as long as the rain meant snow in the mountains. Sure, she missed the California sunshine, but the green of the Pacific Northwest was a welcome trade-off. She had moved to Seattle during the summer, amazed by the vibrant, lush green flashing from everywhere, and the lack of crowds in the mountains compared to some of her favorite trails in California. It felt like an oasis. When the season faded into fall, September and October were just as pleasant as summer but almost better due to the cool temperatures and longer nights. While hiking or in the field, the crisp cool mornings felt like a promise from the weather gods that snow was coming soon.
Her recent day of grueling fieldwork on St. Helens with Peter O’Dea was a perfect example of this. She remembered the faded fireweed stirring in the afternoon breeze while they tramped through the clear cuts, and the gorgeous view of the mountain, the recent snow covering the cindery slopes like a lacy petticoat. She also remembered his insightful questions and the funny stories he had entertained her with, not to mention the tingly warmth she had felt in her belly after their trip to the waterfall. Had he really intended to suggest they ski St. Helens together? Or was it one of those offhand comments people made? Ever since her breakup with Luke, she didn’t trust herself to figure out stuff like this.
After entering the annex building, she wiped her feet and headed for her office, her sneakers squeaking on the speckled linoleum. All of the other doors along the hallway stood closed except for two towards the end of the hallway. From inside one of them, she heard the high, soft voice of a student—meaning another grad student was holding office hours. Most of the time, students came to grovel for a better grade on an assignment or quiz in the form of an excuse. Their roommate barfed on their homework, or they hadn’t been able to study because their ADHD medication ran out and they couldn’t get to the pharmacy for more, or they were trying but still “just didn’t understand” the material, so couldn’t they just get a break? However, Geology 101 had to be one of the easiest classes in the universe, so her compassion often failed to appear. So as the student droned on, Cassidy sometimes retreated into her mind to brainstorm or refine her to-do list for the day.
Cassidy slid the key into her lock and swung her door open, then closed it behind her. If any student happened to drop by she would appear unavailable, which suited her perfectly. After flipping the button on the coffeemaker to “on” and filing her lab section teaching material in its place on her shelf, she hung up her coat and settled into her sturdy wooden chair. She logged in to her computer, and her most recent file blinked to life, along with several graphs of the seismic data from Mount St. Helens. A surge of pride filled her—she had just returned from the annual GSA conference, this one held in Vancouver, B.C., where she had presented some of her findings. To her delight, she had been invited to lunch with Dr.
