Lucky Day

Calm. Still. Silence. Peace.

Taking in a long breath of fresh island air through my nose I savor the rich fragrance of fir and spruce. I hold the rejuvenating energy inside of me for a few long seconds before slowly letting it back out through my mouth. Slowly I open my eyes to behold the majesty of my lifelong home anew.

From my hidden sanctuary nestled among the great green giants of the old growth forest on an outcrop halfway up the mountain ridge I could see nearly the entirety of the west facing ‘fin’ of Ehkolie Island upon which the town of Haven Point sat looking out toward the endless blue Pacific beyond. Being able to see the peninsula from this vantage point it really did resemble the long pectoral fin of the island’s namesake. Ehkolie meant whale in one of the local aboriginal languages and if it was true that from above, if you sort of squinted and cocked your head the island looked like a titanic cresting humpback whale. The ‘head’, which faced north toward Canada, was the highest point. A ridge of mountains gradually dipped southward to end in a pair of rocky islets that made up the ‘tail’. A peninsula sprouted out from the main landmass on both the ocean and the strait side, this more habitable west one in front of me and the impassably craggy east ‘fin’ that pointed in toward the Oregon coast. The island even had a caldera lake crowning the head as a ‘blowhole’. For all of my 23 years on Earth I had lived on the back of this mighty leviathan. It was a home like no other and one that I loved dearly. At least when I was out here by myself.

I focus upon the community in the distance. The morning sun just now cresting over the peak behind me had withdrawn the blanket of shadow and to give the whole of Haven Point a cozy amber glow. Even from way out here the town’s eclectic history could be seen in it’s hodgepodge of style and architecture. Hugging the port at the peninsula’s tip are the stone grays and ruddy brick browns of ‘Old Town’, the original 19th Century settlement of English, French, and Spanish pilgrims that had grown up around the seminary of an isolationist and now extinct Protestant sect. Encircling this core area were the black roofs and tree lined streets of ‘Midtown’, built during the town’s gradual growth through the 20th Century as the seminary steadily transitioned from a religious school to a liberal arts college. And then there was the gleaming white steel and dark shining glass of ‘New Town’, the product of the swift growth of these past fifteen years that came after the influx of investment stemming from the college’s branching out into cutting edge green technology that had so transformed our once sleepy island. The old coal plant now stood inert as a monument to obsolesce as a unique convergence of tide, wind, sun and geothermal had more than taken it’s place. From the quaint historic center to the sprawling college at it’s heart to the space age fringe, it all meant people. And people was where all of my problems began and ended.

From the corner of my eye a flash of azure interrupts my reverie. A moment later a familiar faint shrill chirp catches my ear. The moment I was here for had arrived!

I scramble as quietly as I could to where I had my scuffed up old DSLR camera already waiting on a tripod. I take the cap off of the brand new telephoto lens that had cost me an entire month’s pay. I adjust the settings for exposure, shutter speed, and depth of field then swiftly look through the branches in the direction I had heard it. My eyes dart about the foliage looking for any sign of telltale color or movement. In the brief silence there is a sudden flutter and streak of baby blue. I gasp despite myself as I spot him land to perch proudly at the very tip of the branch of a Sitka Spruce. The branch hung out over the very gap in the canopy through which I was able enjoy such amazing vistas of my hometown. The steady distance, the warm light, the regal posing, with Haven Point positioned as a backdrop…it was PERFECT!

As the striking Mountain Bluebird obliviously goes about his business the snapping clicks of my shutter comes in furious rapid fire bursts. Moment like these did not last long and I had to make the most of it. My right finger feathering the shutter button, my right thumb zipping through various settings, and my left hand twisting this way and that on the lens I milk all that I could from the scant seconds this beautiful avian graces me with. Less than a minute later he flits off to disappear into the dense old forest.

I spring to my feet and leap into the air, my fist pumping with joy. “YES!” I cheer. “Yes! I got it.” I call out into the woods. “Thank you!”

For the next few minutes I pace around my camp looking through my shots and bursting at the seams with joyful energy. These were some of my best photos ever. I could not wait to show grandpa what I’d gotten. Knowing that it wasn’t going to get any better than this today I decide to head for home early. Besides, I had some hungry mouths waiting on me. I roll up my little pup tent and pack away my gear into my backpack and the saddlebags of my banged up old dirt bike. I was saving up for a new one but that lens had set me back a good ways, not that I was complaining!

Looking back to the overhanging branch I nod to myself. “This is my lucky day.”

***

I rip down the slope via the winding trails and back roads that criss-crossed the area and before long I find myself back on the single highway that mostly ringed the island, the steep slopes of the north and northeast made a fully connected loop impossible. On my rattling Honda I had to open it right up to attain anything approaching highway speed. The road was predictably quiet with just a research van from the college out of town and a couple of folk from the villages heading into Haven Point for work or shopping. I slow as I approach the T-intersection of where the island highway met the road out onto the Haven Point peninsula. The closer I get the slower I get until at last I kill the engine to coast up the dirt and gravel entrance of the abandoned boarded up garage that overlooked the junction. I didn’t want to scare anyone.

I glide to a stop along the south side of the main building and park my bike. Removing my helmet I leave it hanging on the handlebars and head around to the rear of the building. In behind was a large asphalt pad that had seen better days. Weeds and thistles grew up through the spider webbing cracks and entire chunks had come loose at the edges. A row of rusted junkers lined back and beyond the lot itself was tall grass and shrubs under the shadow of the looming forest that surrounded the property on three sides.

“Hello?” I call out as I set my backpack down on concrete step of the garage’s back door.

Almost instantly two tabby ears pop up over the grass and a pair of green eyes lock onto me. A moment later out trots a sleek brown and black feline followed close behind by a quartet of similarly striped kittens. A few seconds after that comes the tiny bumbling orange one.

“Hey Mama. Hey babies.” I say as I sit down and dig the three cans of cat food I’d brought along from my pack. “Let’s see what’s on the menu today. Chicken and liver, salmon and liver, and…beef and liver.” I giggle. “I sure hope you guys like liver.” All six of them are purring and rubbing against my legs as I spoon out six little mounds of squish, Mama getting a bit more than the rest. The small orange one’s pile I have to protect from the others to ensure he got his share. I tickle at his fuzzy orange back with my fingertips as I whisper. “I’m glad to see you again.” Mama had already lost one of her litter, the other orange one she’d had, and I worried that this little apricot sweetie would be the next to go.

Fishing out my own breakfast I open the granola bar and much away with the rest of them. Excitedly I tell them about my morning and my wonderful minute with the beautiful bluebird. I explain to them at length on just how perfect the warm morning light was, lighting up my subject from directly behind me, and how incredible it was to see the details that I could catch with my expensive new lens. I then show them my pictures with no small amount of pride. “There he is. In all his glory.” I scratch Mama behind an ear and chuckle. “Please don’t make supper out him. He was a very nice fellow. And I hope he lets me shoot him again.” One of the kittens bumps my hand and chaws at my pinkie. I giggle and rustle it’s tiny head. “You want a picture too, huh?”

I put on a close angle lens and snap a few pics for the family as they play and wrestle. The final one I include myself with them, holding the camera high above my head to shoot down to catch the kitties on the ground around me. I look at the last photo and see a happy man staring back at me. My big blue eye’s glimmered with the photographer’s high that I was still coming down from and that bright smile that I got so many compliments on was actually a genuine one this time. If my dirty blonde hair hadn’t have looked so greasy from camping and having my helmet on I might have kept it. As it was it is trashed without a second thought.

I show the litter the photos I’d taken of them and I think they liked them. Looking around at the happy bundles of fur all around me I smile and say softly. “I love you all.”

Just then Mama’s head snaps up and she looks off toward the road. Without a noise she turns and makes for the cover the nearest grassy border at a swift trot. Sensing danger and with the food all gobbled up anyway her children hurry along behind her, the orange one straggling as usual. I was confused for a moment, until I hear the deep rumble of an engine and the crackle of gravel under tire followed by a Willy Nelson twang coming from a radio. I scramble to hide the empty cans and get ready to go. It was probably just some berry pickers but I wasn’t really one to wait around for chit-chat.

I keep my head down and cinch up my pack as a dusty brown pick up comes to a stop just beyond the building, it’s box was piled high and strapped securely down. A bright orange tarp covered the load. I shoulder my pack and make for my bike, doing what I can to avoid eye contact. When I spot the rifle and shotgun held in a back window gun rack of the vehicle my pace picks up. The driver steps out and the door slams.

“Hey. You’re on my property white boy.” Comes a woman’s stern voice, not unfriendly just…stern. There was something in the deep, rich tone and firm confidence that was…very…very…familiar. Despite myself I stop. “Just so ya know. God damn this place is in rough…” Her words catch a moment before she squeals. “Oh my God! Kittens!!! Ha ha ha!”

That voice! That laugh! No. It couldn’t be. She left over a year ago. Outsiders never come back to the island once they leave. It couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t be. My eyes needing to confirm what my ears already knew I raise my gaze to look at this ghost of my past. The moment I see spot those familiar black rimmed glasses and vibrant hazel eyes the truth hits me like a bullet from one of those guns. Winona!

Despite her dating my friend Kayla in the weeks following that humiliating night I had managed to avoid Winona like the plague. Until now. When I had arrived at that ill-fated game those years ago Winona had already been there in her seat, and she had remained seated the whole time I was there. Seeing her now it strikes me how tall she was! At nearly six foot she stood at least six inches taller than me. She had let her long, ruler straight, shiny black hair continue to grow so that it now hung down to touch her butt. She was neither small breasted nor particularly busty but I saw now that her sitting during our first meeting had also hidden from me a full, plump behind. She had on baggy denim overalls, thick soled work boots, and a snug white t shirt through the thin fabric of which I could just make out a blue sports bra. Hardly the height of fashion and a heck of a lot different from the nicely dressed lady I encountered two years ago. Yet despite this, and despite the gnawing dread growing in my gut, I had to admit that she was every bit as beautiful as I remembered her. It was such a shame that a soul so cruel could be wrapped in a facade so lovely.

“Ha ha ha!” She laughs and points at the retreating cat family. “Look at the runt! Look at it! Ha ha ha ha! Oh my God! The place might be a dump…but I already love it!”

She glances my way for an instant, then does a double take. She cocks her head as her smile fades. “Do I know you?”

I shake my head no and turn to go.

“Hold on.”

I freeze, rooted to the spot despite my mind screaming at me to RUN. Praying with all of my heart to a God that I didn’t even believe in that she wouldn’t remember me I turn back to face her.

She pushes her glasses higher up her nose and her eyes narrow as she studies me closely. My heart sinks as her eyes widen again with a twinkle of recognition. “Sprout?”