'What's wrong with him?' asked Maggie.
'Who?' Baedecker concentrated on lifting his feet. He did not remember asking for lead-lined soles when he bought his new hiking boots the week before, but obviously he had.
'Him,' said Maggie and nodded her head downhill at the sullen figure of Tom Jr. The boy was staring back the way they had come, his hands thrust deep in his hip pockets.
'Girlfriend problems,' said Baedecker.
'Too bad,' said Maggie. 'Did she walk out on him or what?'
Baedecker stopped again and took a few deep breaths. It did not seem to help. Tiny drummers performed solos in his ears. 'No,' he said, 'Tom and Deedee decided it was getting too serious. They broke it up. Tommy won't be allowed to see her when he gets back.'
'Too serious?' asked Maggie.
'The possibility of premarital sex was raising its ugly head,' said Baedecker. Maggie looked back at Tom Jr. 'Good grief,' she said. 'He must be almost seventeen.'
'Try eighteen,' said Baedecker, moving again, waiting for his second wind to catch up. It was overdue. 'Almost your age, Maggie.' She made a face. 'Uh-uh, guess again,' she said. 'I'm twenty-six and you know it, Richard.' Baedecker nodded and tried to pick up his pace so Maggie would not have to take half steps to stay back with him.
'Hey,' she said, 'where's your hip belt? It helps with those frame packs if you wear it. Gets the load off your shoulders.'
'Broken,' said Baedecker. He looked up through the trees and saw Tom and Deedee two switchbacks above, moving quickly.
'You still mad?' asked Maggie. Her voice had changed slightly, shifted down a register. The sound of it made Baedecker's straining heart beat even faster.
'Mad about what?' he asked.
'You know, me showing up when I wasn't invited,' she said. 'Staying to come along on this weekend with your friends.'
'Of course not,' said Baedecker. 'Any friend of Scott's would be welcome.'
'Hunh,' said Maggie. 'We've been over that already. I didn't fly here from Boston just because I used to be your son's friend. I mean, classes have started already.' Baedecker nodded. Scott would have received his master's degree this year if he had not dropped out to stay with his Indian guru. Baedecker knew that Maggie was four years older than Scott; she had spent two years in the Peace Corps after graduating from Wellesley and was now finishing up her graduate degree in sociology.
They emerged into a clearing on a broad switchback and Baedecker stopped and pretended to appreciate the view of the canyon and surrounding peaks.
'I loved the look on your face when I showed up last night,' said Maggie. 'I thought you were going to drop your teeth.'
'My teeth are my own,' said Baedecker. He tugged the pack up and tightened a strap. 'Most of them.' Maggie threw back her head and laughed. She brushed at his sunburned arm with cool fingers and then she was bounding up the rough road, pausing to turn and beckon him on, then running again. Running. Uphill. Baedecker closed his eyes for a second.
'Come on, Richard,' she called. 'Let's hurry up so we can make camp and have dinner.' Baedecker opened his eyes. The sun was directly behind Maggie, surrounding her with radiance, illuminating even the fine, golden hairs on her arms. 'Go ahead,' he called. 'I'll be there in a week or so.' She laughed and ran up the hill, apparently unruled by the gravity that pulled at Baedecker. He watched her for a minute and then followed, stepping more lightly himself, feeling the load on his back lessen slightly as he moved higher toward the dome of thin, blue Colorado sky.
Baedecker had enjoyed nothing of his life in St. Louis so much as his leaving it.
He resigned his position at the aerospace company where he had worked for the past eight years, his sense of almost complete uselessness there being accidentally confirmed by the way his boss, Cole Prescott, had let him go with deep and obviously sincere regret but without need for an interim period to train someone new. Baedecker sold his town house back to the firm that had built it, sold most of his furniture, stored his books, papers, and the rolltop desk Joan had given him for his fortieth birthday, said good-bye over drinks to his few acquaintances and friends there — most of whom worked for the company — and left, driving west early one afternoon after having a leisurely lunch at the Three Flags Restaurant across the Missouri River in St. Charles.
It had taken Richard Baedecker less than three days to liquidate his life in St. Louis.
He crossed into Kansas at Kansas City during rush hour. The insane flow of traffic did not bother him as he sat back in the leather upholstery and listened to classical music on the car's FM radio. He had originally planned to sell the Chrysler Le Baron and get a smaller, faster car — a Corvette or Mazda RX-7 perhaps — the kind of performance vehicle he would have driven eighteen or twenty years earlier when training for a mission or flying experimental aircraft, but at the last moment he realized how stereotypical it would be for the middle-aged man to go hunting for his lost youth in a new sports car, so he kept the Le Baron. Now he relaxed in its upholstered comfort and air-conditioning while listening to Handel's Water Music as he left Kansas City and its grain elevators behind and headed west toward the lowering sun and the endless plains.
He stayed that night in Russell, Kansas, driving into the small town to find a cheaper motel away from the interstate. The sign outside said CABLE TV FREE COFFEE. The old tourist cabins were not air-conditioned, but they were clean and quiet, set back under large trees that created pools of darker shadow in the twilight. Baedecker showered, changed clothes, and went for a walk. He had dinner in the bleachers of the town park, buying two hot dogs and coffee at a concession stand beneath the ball diamond's bleachers. Halfway through the second game the moon rose, orange and waning. Out of old habit, Baedecker looked up and tried to find the Marius Hills in western Oceanus Procellarum, but the site was in darkness. Baedecker sensed a sad, end-of-season flavor to the evening. It was four days past Labor Day and despite the summer's final attempt at a heat wave and the softball tournament, the children had returned to school for the year, the city pool was closed, and the fields of corn beyond the edge of town were growing yellow and brittle as harvest approached.
Baedecker left after the sixth inning of the second game and went back to his motel room. The 'CABLE TV' consisted of a small black-and-white television offering two Kansas City channels, WTBS from Atlanta, WGN from Chicago, and three fundamentalist networks.
It was on the second of these religious channels that he saw his old Apollo crewmate, Tom Gavin.
A mile and a half above the meadow where they had left their car, the dilapidated jeep road narrowed into a trail and wound its way up through heavy forest. Baedecker was moving more easily now, setting his own pace, enjoying the evening and the movement of shadows across the valley floor. It had become much cooler as the ridge's shadow filled the narrowing canyon up which they were hiking.
Maggie was waiting for him at a curve in the path, and they walked awhile in companionable silence. Beyond the next curve in the trail, Tom and Deedee were busy setting up camp in a clearing ten yards above the stream, which the trail had been paralleling. Baedecker dumped his pack, stretched, and rubbed some of the soreness out of his neck.
'Did you see Tommy back there?' asked Deedee.
Maggie answered. 'He was a hundred yards or so down the trail. He should be here in a minute or two.' Baedecker spread the ground cloth and staked down the two-person orange tent he had been carrying. There were several fiberglass poles and wands to connect, and it took Baedecker and Maggie several moments of laughter to get the exoskeleton rigged and the tent properly draped from it. When it was finished, Baedecker's low tent sat a few yards from Tom and Deedee's blue dome.