Sable glared at a row of barrel
cacti, feeling prickly, herself. She’d taken a seat on the patio, giving her
sister and parents time to hash out their angst, or whatever you did when a
changeling showed up for Christmas. So far, she’d stopped more conversations
than she’d started. She read shock in her mother and Cindy’s expressions; her
father listened, looking bemused and puzzled.
Since he was a research-nut, Sable was sure her dad had Googled amygdala
problems to death. How did it feel to
witness a living, breathing example of fearlessness in your own daughter?
As of an hour ago, her parents and
sister were aware of her after-poisoning activities, nine months of prime pulp
fiction material: two affairs, one with a married man from her office. A DUI
and a brawl in a bar when she’d broken a guy’s nose. Less incendiary were her
adventures at bungee-jumping, parasailing, wave-boarding, and snow skiing. Parachuting
was on her bucket list. The medal she received for bravery following an arrest
of drug-smugglers last month, was also a point of discussion, as was the fact
no one in her L.A. office wanted to work with her thereafter. Talking about Dr.
Sharon Dixon, Sable’s psychiatrist, claimed almost an hour of detailing. The
shrink had gifted Sable with strategies to move forward, and a signed clean
bill of health to resume duties as an agent.
Sable went on to explain all her
trips to the hospital from the beginning of her posting at Sequoia. Three
times. Warned more might be more coming.
Funny. Every person she knew
complained about fear being a weakening factor, a source of shame, even. Shouldn’t her family be pleased and proud
Sable was intrepid?
Another point she made to her
family: “Carter Glass is the only person who knows my story. He’s a big-picture
numbers man for the NP system, and since I’m helping him build an anti-poaching
strategy for the parks, I thought he should understand my background. He’s
promised to keep the details to himself.”
Cindy asked, “He’s in Sequoia?”
“He’s cat-sitting at his parent’s
in Mesa.”
More questions and answers, soon
exhausting all of them. When her phone
chimed, she’d taken it from her pocket and looked at the screen. “I’ve got a few calls to make. I’ll head outside and take care of some
business while you hash over what you’ve heard so far.”
Done with her phone conversations,
Sable had wriggled on the lawn chair, read the time passing on her watch,
listened to muffled conversation inside, and closed her eyes. Was it time to
grab her unpacked bag and return to Sequoia? Better check the weather report to see how
much snow had settled on Highway 198.
“Sable?”
Her eyes opened at Carter’s voice. “What
in the world? How did you get here?” As
he walked toward her, she focused on his face, his dark brown beard, mustache
and hair, framing kind eyes and a smile. No eyebrow up in dismay, no head
shaking in judgment. For the first time he looked happy to see her.
He said, “I’ll never be able to
scare you, but I can surprise you.”
She rose slowly and walked toward
him, still thinking he was an apparition. “But. How. Why?” She pointed to the animal
cage he placed on the pavers. “Who?”
“Complete sentences, please.” he
said, eyes dancing.
She grabbed onto his belt loop and
yanked.
Pulling in air at her gesture, he
said “Jeff…your dad called me. He invited my parents and me to join you for
dinner tonight. My folks aren’t in town, so you got me.”
“He called you?”
“Glass isn’t a common name in
Mesa.” He looked down at his short-sleeved blue shirt belted into khaki shorts.
Leather sandals. “He said dress informally for a barbeque.”
“I haven’t seen you or heard from
you for a month.”
“About that. Turns out I needed a
little time to think. But I’m here, now. I interpret for food.” He jerked a
thumb toward the cage. “That’s the family cat, Poe, who also enjoys free meals.”
Sable’s parents and Cindy came to
the patio before she could respond, placing a pitcher of margaritas, glasses
and the appetizer board on the table. Their smiles were almost smug. Cindy
poured the margaritas, their father passed drinks around, and they all clinked
glasses.
“Welcome to our home.” Jeff held up
his glass to his guest.
Carter grinned. “Thanks for
inviting me, but I should say, if your phone call hadn’t come I would have
crashed this little party.”
“Seriously? And what do you mean, ‘interpret
for food?’ ” Sable put down her glass, feeling left out.
“You see, I had an epiphany about what
an ideal colleague should be.” Carter set his glass next to hers. “I’ve been
reading your e-mails for a month. You’ve
been sharing your ideas with all the parks.”
He held up a hand to stop her from
responding. “You’ve given me ideas I can use, and you pushed me to do valuable on-site
research. But I haven’t added much to our partnership.”
Carter’s hand stayed up so Sable
remained quiet.
“Most important, I remember my own
challenges in adjusting to your fearlessness. Since you are a stranger to your
family, I’m here as your interpreter, explaining who you are today, at Sequoia,
where we admire you, not just for your bravery, but for your compassion and
leadership.”
A lump the size of Alaska formed in
her throat when she saw her family’s broad smiles and felt her father’s hand
squeeze her elbow.
Carter took a swallow of his
margarita, snaked his arm around Sable’s waist and raised his glass high to her
family. “I’m a numbers man, you know, bent on understanding anomalies. Well,
this Christmas I’ve come to help the Chisholm family learn about Sable, my most
fascinating outlier, yet.”
And with that, Sable’s first Christmas
AP, after poisoning, took on the glow of a miracle.
Dear Reader.
You have just met Sable Chisholm and Carter Glass, characters in my
newest novel FIRE IS NICE, set in Sequoia/Kings National Park, where fire
nurtures trees and relationships J. Watch
for it early in 2018. While you wait to
hear Carter and Sable’s story, I have eight other suspense novels for you to
read. Check out my website for more
information: http://www.rolynnanderson.com
