The Smoke of Distant Autumn Fires

He pointed out an obviously broken section of metal on the part and went on to say, "I'll have to get another one. I can call in tomorrow morning and if we're lucky, they can have one up here by afternoon."

"No chance of getting it any earlier?" Bob asked, without much hope.

Frank looked sympathetic, but shook his head and said, "Afraid not. If they have one in stock they can get it up here tomorrow. Otherwise, it'll be Monday before I can do anything with it. Better get your stuff out of the car." He nodded towards the suitcase on the back seat.

His mind in turmoil, Bob retrieved his suitcase and a smaller gym bag. Frank told him to call after nine the next morning and by then he'd know if the part was coming that afternoon. Bob thanked him, and Frank and Susan said goodby. They walked back out to the Jeep and Bob threw the suitcase into the back. As he climbed inside and Susan started the engine, he said, "I really would like to thank you for all of your help. I know I've been an awful lot of trouble, but if I could trouble you for one more thing, could you tell me where I can find a motel and maybe somewhere to get supper tonight?"

Susan flashed a bright smile at him. "I'm afraid there's no motel closer than forty miles and I don't know of a diner less than twenty-five." She saw the look that crossed the man's features and quickly added. "But if you'd like I've got plenty of room. Why don't you spend the night at my place. I expect I could even find something for you to eat."

Bob immediately started to protest. "I couldn't do that. You've already spent too much of your time on me."

Susan had pulled up to a stop sign and for a second she turned and gave him a steady look. "What are you going to do? Hike forty miles tonight?" She turned back to the road and started driving once again.

Bob realized she was right. He seemed to have no options. He still had no idea what he could do about the meeting, but the immediate need was food and a place to stay. After a minute he said, "All right, but you've got to let me pay you something for it. I really can't just take advantage of you any more."

"We'll talk about it," Susan replied. Then she added with a laugh, "Maybe I want to be taken advantage of." She turned back to the road and Bob let the remark pass as he sank into a worrisome mood, obviously lost in trying to salvage something of the disaster his plans had become.

He said no more until Susan again pulled up at the back of her house. "Bring your stuff in," she called as she headed towards the back door. She disappeared inside and Bob noticed that she hadn't even locked the door when they had left. He smiled to himself. Definitely not the city. In Boston he would never leave his door unlocked for even a ten minute trip down the street. Still ruefully smiling, he shook his head, picked up his bags, and headed inside.

When he entered the kitchen, Susan called from somewhere farther on, "Come on upstairs and I'll show you your room." He followed her voice and at the top of the stairs saw her duck into a room on the right side of the hallway. He went into it and saw she was placing a stack of sheets and blankets on a single bed. He looked around the room and saw plain wood furniture: the bed, a dresser and night table, and a fair sized desk. "Used to be my brother's room," Susan enlightened him. "Before he grew up and moved to California."

Bob smiled at her. "Let me guess. He became a full time surfer, has a little place on the beach, and plans to get into movies someday."

Susan laughed. "Not exactly. He's got a masters in aeronautical engineering and works for Hughes. I don't think he's ever been on a surfboard in his life."

Bob laughed back at her. "I was just kidding. I know a lot of you guys just take time to 'find yourself' when you get out of school. What do you plan to do?"

"You mean 'when I grow up?'" Susan said with just the slightest edge to her voice. "I'm probably almost as old as you are. Just because you went right to work out of school doesn't really mean anything."

"I'm sorry," Bob immediately said. "I didn't mean to imply anything. I just meant when you finish grad school. You did say you were a grad student, didn't you?"

Susan's face relaxed. "Yes, I'm a computer science major. And as to what I'm going to do, I'm already doing it. I'm a free-lance COBAL programmer, and I'm actually pretty good at it. I probably make as much working about half time as most grads do full time."

"Really? I'm actually quite impressed. I was an engineering major and FORTRAN was the hardest class I had. Programming was always a real challenge for me. And I expect COBAL would be even harder."

"Well, I do seem to have a talent for it. Now I suppose we should see if we can find something for supper."

It had grown dark and now as Bob looked out of the window he finally thought to say,

"Look, isn't there somewhere I could buy you dinner? What were you planning to do about food tonight, anyway?"

"I told you there's nowhere closer than twenty-five miles. And I'm afraid there isn't a lot in the refrigerator either." She stopped for a couple of seconds and then added. "I was planning on meeting a few of the guys from my high school and we were going to have a wiener roast and then maybe hit up a couple of the taverns."

A sudden contrite look came to Bob's face. "I'm really sorry, I didn't know. Look, I'm sure I can find something to eat here. Why don't you go on and join your friends?"

Susan shook her head. "They've gone by now. It wasn't anything definite. I just said if I got back in time, I'd go with them." She stopped and seemed to consider something for a few seconds. "Say, do you have any jeans in that case?"

Bob nodded his head. "Yeah. Why?"

"I'll bet you haven't been to a wiener roast in a year. Why don't you change and we can go over to the county park and have our own picnic. Sam's store will still be open for another half hour or so and we can pick up some stuff there."

"I really don't want to put you to so much trouble," Bob replied.

"It isn't any trouble," Susan said in a slightly exasperated voice. "I'll bet it's been about a year since you've been on a wiener roast, hasn't it?"

"No, not really," Bob replied. Susan looked skeptical. "Actually, it's been over five years," he said.

"Five years! No one should go that long between hot dog roasts. It's settled then. Get changed and come on down." She started out of the door.

Bob started to protest again, but Susan cut him off. "Look, there's nothing you can do about your car tonight. You can't change anything about your meeting. Why don't you just forget about everything for a little while. It'll do you good." She turned and disappeared into the hall.

For several more seconds, Bob just stood there, the thoughts of his meeting plans tossing around inside his head. Then he shook himself. "She's right," he said to himself. "I can't do a thing about it, so I might as well just take tonight off. I could use a night off, after all." Then he turned and began to open his suitcase.

Five minutes later he appeared downstairs wearing jeans, sneakers, and a heavy cotton sport shirt. He had a sweatshirt over his arm. Susan turned and looked at him. "Much better," she said. "Come on. Let's go before Sam closes."

Twenty minutes later they climbed back into the jeep. Susan had quickly picked up, and Bob had insisted on paying for, hot dogs, buns, marshmallows, chips, and soda. Bob set the bag on the seat beside the picnic basket she had brought with the paper plates and cups. Susan pulled out of the store parking lot just as Sam turned off the lights inside the store. She headed out of town on the main highway in the direction Bob had wanted to travel hours before, but in just a couple of minutes she turned onto a small road leading along the side of a wooded hill.

For perhaps two miles the small road twisted and turned along the base of the hill until Bob suddenly saw a sign: "Rolling Creek County Park." Susan slowed and when a gravel road appeared on their left, she turned into it. This road wound its way up the side of the hill, passing several small picnic areas and twice crossing what must have been Rolling Creek, until it finally ended at a parking lot next to a cleared area. Susan pulled to a stop and shut off the engine.

Bob looked around surveying the area. They were the only car in the parking lot. Open grassy areas shaded by a number of widely spread trees covered the nearby land. Mixed in among them were a half dozen tables, each with a small grill. At one side there was a set of children's swings and a slide. In the fading twilight Bob could see a couple of trails leaving the cleared area and entering the woods which surrounded them.

Picking up the food sack and the basket, Bob asked, "OK, which table do you want?"

Susan seemed to think about this as she looked around. Then she replied, "If you don't mind, let's just skip the table. There's a fire ring in a clearing just inside the woods. They use it for groups or for nature talks, but there won't be anyone else there tonight." Reaching into the back of the jeep she pulled out a folded cotton blanket and a long metal fork for toasting the hot dogs. "We'll just spread the blanket on the ground and have a real picnic. She retrieved one more item Bob didn't see and set off across the open ground with Bob following close behind.

They started along one of the trails, but when they had walked about sixty feet or so, the trail entered a clearing forty feet across. In the center was an iron ring, three feet across and maybe eight inches high, which obviously had been used for bonfires. Three large logs were laid around the fire ring to form seating and a stack of dead branches and some larger firewood was piled about ten feet away, but otherwise the clearing contained only soft grass

Susan moved directly over to one edge where an ancient white oak towered above them and quickly spread the blanket out below its sheltering branches. Bob followed and set the food and the basket on the ground, turning around to see Susan already kneeling next to the ring, arranging small sticks into a teepee. She struck a match and by the time Bob had blinked his eyes against the sudden brilliant flare, a tiny flame was growing among the small bits of dry wood. He watched the girl feed slightly larger pieces on the growing flames until she had a healthy conflagration, a circle of flame a foot and a half across, raising flickering light to throw shimmering shadows and golden highlights throughout the growing darkness.

At last she stood and turned away from the fire, towards him. She looked at him and smiled. "Our kitchen will be ready shortly, Sir." Then she laughed and added, "Much better than some greasy diner, isn't it?"

Bob smiled back and turned to survey their surroundings. The sun had set, but the sky was still light enough to backlight the stark forms of the autumn trees, some branches bare, some still festooned with what he knew to be brightly colored leaves. The slight breeze rattled these early harbingers of winter as it gently stirred the rapidly cooling air. The smell of the wood smoke drifted towards him and all at once he felt a sudden lessening of tension, a relaxing feeling of mellow warmth, spread throughout him. He inhaled deeply, tasting the slightly damp smell of the fallen leaves, the nearly forgotten smoky scent of the small bonfire, the fresh, somehow both new and old, scent of the autumn earth itself, and, mixed with all of these, just a hint of a ghostly presence, a slight, intoxicating fragrance, perhaps perfume, perhaps only the natural fresh washed smell, of the woman standing close and looking at him.

At last he looked from the sky down to her waiting face. "Yes. It is much better. Thank you for bringing me out here."

Susan's smile widened. She could see the change in the man, the relaxing of taut muscles, the lifting of an almost actual weight from his shoulders. Perhaps there was hope for him after all. If he could sometimes put the demands of his driving ambition aside and let his mind open as it so obviously was now, perhaps he could avoid the trap that ensnared so many such men, straining them, eating away at them, until there was nothing left of life in them, only existence until that, too, was taken.

For long seconds they stood staring at each other until the sudden crack of a burning stick pulled their attention back to the fire. Susan knelt and added a couple of more small pieces of wood. Then she stood again and, reaching out for Bob's hand, said, "Come on. Let's get supper ready." Still holding his hand, she lead him over to the spread blanket.

They quickly set out the food, skewering two hot dogs on the end of the metal cooker and placing them on one of the paper plates, the four foot handle extending across the blanket. When they had finished arranging things, Susan again stood. "I think the coals should be about ready. Think you remember how to toast a wiener?"

"It may have been five years, but I think I can still manage," Bob replied with a small laugh. He picked up the long fork and started back towards the fire. Susan grabbed a paper plate with the buns and then quickly caught up with him, tucking her arm through his. They moved to the fire ring and stood for a couple of more minutes, watching the dancing flames, until at last Susan put down her plate and used a piece of firewood to push some of the burning sticks aside, leaving a small bed of glowing coals. Then she backed slightly, and bowing with a sweeping arm in an overly theatrical gesture, said, "Your range awaits, Sir Master Chef."

Laughing, Bob knelt beside the fire and, balancing the fork across the iron ring, maneuvered the two hot dogs to a place three inches directly over the hot coals. Susan moved to stand beside him as she watched him slowly rotate the fork, evenly heating the meat. As the links began to sizzle and brown, without thinking about it, she let her hands come to rest on Bob's shoulders. Her touch slightly surprised him, but certainly didn't offend, and he remained still, welcoming the warm presence of the girl.

At last he held up the fork and displayed the two browned and blistered cylinders for her approval. "Perfect!" she pronounced and held the two buns out to receive them. They stood and started back towards the blanket and Bob let his arm drape across her shoulders, in more of a companionable fashion than in any proprietary way.

They sat on the soft cotton, side by side, their legs crossed Indian fashion, as they added the chips to their plates and opened the cans of soda. They began to eat in silence, comfortable with each other, and both aware of the fantastic smells and sounds of the autumn evening. The sky was dark by now, the only real light coming from the dancing flames of the fire. Overhead, bright stars were beginning to fill the clear sky - brilliant points of bright light, making the ancient patterns emerge across the heavens.

When they had eaten the sandwiches, Susan asked, "Another one? I think I could go for a second before the marshmallows." Bob, still chewing a bite, nodded his head and Susan said, "OK, I'll cook these." She stood and quickly placed two more on the fork and moved back over to the fire.

For several seconds Bob remained where he sat, watching her slim form swaying before the light of the moving flames. Then he picked up two more buns and a plate and moved over to where she was squatting beside the iron fire ring, concentrating on the toasting wieners. Stopping behind her, he stared at her back, taking in the long hair flowing across her shoulders, the firm back narrowing to a small waist, and the rounded smoothness of her hips as they merged into the long, tapered slimness of her legs. At last he squatted beside her, again draping his arm over her shoulder. This time the touch was a little less brotherly, but Susan didn't seem to mind, and leaned slightly more against him.

When the hot dogs were done, he took the buns and removed them from the cooking fork and started back towards their blanket. Susan stepped beside him and as they reached the blanket and he sat, she suddenly asked, "Would you like a little music?" She picked up something and Bob saw that the other item she had brought from the jeep was a small transistor radio.

"OK, just nothing too hard. Maybe some easy listening."

"Coming right up," she responded. "There's an easy listening station we can get pretty well even up here." She adjusted the small set and suddenly the sounds solidified. She turned the volume low and set the small receiver beside them.

"Moon River, off to see the world

There's such a lot of world to see..."

She moved back to her spot on the blanket and sat close to him, leaning against his side and resting her head on his shoulder for a second. "I like that song. Even if the movie didn't grab me that much."

"I like it, too, but I never saw the movie. It's one of those songs that seems to just wash relaxation all over you."

"Emm," she replied around a mouthful of hotdog, and again laid her head on his shoulder for a second.

They finished their sandwiches and chips and Susan reached over and picked up the bag of marshmallows. "Now for the real test. Can you toast these to a golden brown without catching them on fire?"

"So that's the real test, huh? My whole future depends on it, I suppose."

As he said this Susan saw a slight tightening of his face as he thought once more of the problems with his car and his meeting. She bit her lip, regretting having brought his thoughts in this direction once again. In an attempt to bring him back she said, "Not your whole future but maybe tonight's. You will be under the watchful eye of the stars and the ancient trees. You would not want to disappoint them, would you?"

"The stars and the trees, you say?" She saw the tightening disappear and silently gave thanks that he had seemed to relax again. "The opinion of the stars and trees will not weigh too heavily on my mind, but I would certainly hate to disappoint a lovely lady." He gave a bow in her direction and quickly placed four of the white puffs on the fork tines. As he walked towards the fire, Bob wondered what had come over him. He hadn't acted like this in years, the small silliness, the theatrical remarks. And strangest of all, it felt good. Shaking his head slightly he moved to the fire once more and began to concentrate on the task at hand.

A short time later he turned to Susan, who was standing beside him holding a plate. He held out the fork, four marshmallows, each tinted golden brown without the slightest trace of black. Again he bowed slightly and looked at her face, the question on his own.

Susan looked from the offered food back to his face. "Perfect, Sir. You have passed with flying colors."

They ate the sticky desserts and Susan produced a wet washcloth Bob had not seen her pack. They replaced the leftover items in the picnic basket, but made no move to pick up the blanket. Susan wandered back over to the fire and added some more wood, sending a small column of sparks several feet into the night sky. Their gaze followed the trail of glowing embers and both noticed at the same time that the moon, three days past full, was just about to clear the edge of the hill to the East.

"Hunter's moon," Susan spoke. Bob nodded and Susan tried to imagine him as a hunter, dressed in buckskins, carrying a Kentucky rifle, making his way out into the wilderness in search of game to feed his family. Surprisingly, it was not too hard to visualize.

They stood watching the golden sphere begin to clear the distant trees and suddenly Bob noticed the first notes of a song come from the radio.

"Whenever we kiss, I worry and wonder ..."