All The Way Down

Chapter 9

We crossed the parking lot and walked up a small dirt road. The road led uphill past more vacation homes. Like the hotel, the homes had the appearance of being old but very comfortable and built to withstand harsh winters. I was glad that I had left the rental car in the hotel parking lot. I would have punched a hole in the oil pan trying to make it past the rocks in this part of the road. Finally, the road leveled out and became quite narrow. I saw Michelle's Jeep parked in front of a brown cabin. Smoke smelling of piñon drifted from the chimney.

"Ever have trouble getting your car up here?" I asked.

"Not really," she said, "My Jeep can handle anything. If we get heavy snowfall I park down by the forestry center and just walk up."

I tried to imagine hiking up the hill to the house through knee-deep snow.

"Right," I said.

Michelle stomped her feet on the doormat to shake the pine needles from her boots. I followed her example, and she held the cabin door open for me as I finished. A big old male collie with graying muzzle hair shambled over to make my acquaintance, and I held out the back of my hand for him to sniff, giving him a chance to see what I smelled like. Then I gave him a couple of scratches behind his ears and he leaned against me, satisfied that he’d made another friend.

"His name is Colonel," Michelle said, looking a little surprised. "He doesn't usually take to people so quickly."

I gave Colonel a few final scratches before pulling my flannel shirt off and hanging it on a coat rack by the front door. I followed Michelle into the kitchen where a middle-aged woman with red hair was pulling a tray of cookies from the oven. A small, dark-haired girl in red corduroy overalls and blue tennis shoes was perched beside her on a stool, watching with rapt attention. Then the girl turned and saw Michelle, letting out a little cry of joy. She jumped off the stool and wrapped her arms around Michelle's legs in a rush of affection. Then she noticed me and let go of Michelle, wrapping her arms around my legs instead. I was taken aback, but I ran my hand over her hair anyway. It was a beautiful auburn, like Michelle's.

"Del, this is my daughter Rosalie. And this is my mother, Juanita Villareal."

I shook Juanita's hand.

"How are you, Del?" she asked.

"Fine, thank you."

"Well, you're just in time for cookies. If you'd like to take Rosalie for a little walk, I can give you some provisions." She gave me a conspiratorial wink. "She's been waiting to eat the cookies for quite a while."

Michelle watched me, gauging my reaction to all this.

"Sounds good to me," I said. "Maybe I can get Rosalie to show me the golf course." Michelle gave Rosalie a little tug on one shoulder. The girl let go of my legs and watched her mother's face expectantly. Michelle motioned with her hands rapidly, signing to the little girl. Rosalie nodded furiously and ran from the kitchen into the living room.

Michelle broke the silence. "Rosalie said that she would love to show you the course. She's gone to get her coat."

I smiled weakly, unsure of what to say. Michelle continued, "Rosalie is deaf as I'm sure you guessed."

I nodded.

Juanita handed me a small sandwich bag with a half-dozen warm chocolate chip cookies in it. "If you get hungry, these should help," she said.

I grabbed my flannel shirt and followed Michelle and Rosalie out the front door. We held Colonel off at the door, keeping him from coming along. Michelle said that the dog had a problem with running off and not coming back, so we needed to leave him in the house. Rosalie took my hand and pulled me along the road towards the golf course. Michelle walked briskly alongside. It was very quiet and the only sounds were from our boots on the dusty road and from Rosalie kicking at pine cones and stones.

"Are you surprised that I have a child?'' Michelle asked.

"A little. Most people I know who have kids can’t stop talking about them. Your daughter is beautiful." She was watching my face, and I could tell she was trying to read my expression.

"Yes, she is," Michelle said. "She's the best part of my life. Actually, she's been the best part for some time." She went silent again. Rosalie smiled at me and pointed at the bag of cookies I held. I got one for each of us, and we made our way down the road in companionable silence.

Michelle had a troubled expression, as if she were debating whether to confide in me or not. I let her take her time. Rosalie tugged on my hand. I looked down and saw Rosalie pointing towards one of the fairways. It was cut from stands of timber so thick that it appeared that a benevolent God had plucked a section of the forest up and laid green carpet down for play. A man in yellow pants and a bright orange shirt was trying to drive a ball from a sand trap. Rosalie jumped up and down with excitement. Then she signed with her hands and looked at her mother expectantly.

Michelle smiled a little. The clouds seemed to have passed for her. "She wants to know if that man in the bright clothing is a clown. We went to the circus a few weeks ago, and I guess that she thinks that one of the clowns is up here playing golf. She shook her head at Rosalie. Rosalie didn't seem to mind. She had spotted the cookies in the hip pocket of my flannel shirt and helped herself to the bag. She broke one in half and handed half to me, then started skipping back up the road towards the house with the rest of the bag.

"I don't mean to bring you down," Michelle said, "but it's hard raising a kid on your own. I love her a lot and my mom helps too, but it's just hard. That's all."

"It must be hard being a parent," I said. "Especially when your child is a maniac about cookies. Did you see what just happened? She took the whole bag from me."

Michelle punched me in the arm and looked disgusted with me, but I smiled at her before putting my arm around her waist. We started back up the hill behind Rosalie's skipping figure.

Michelle's mother made lunch for us while Rosalie and I played with a puzzle of wooden pieces for each of the fifty states. Rosalie slapped the pieces against the empty border with speed and familiarity. I picked up the piece for West Virginia, and then put it in an empty place near the eastern seaboard. I knew Rosalie would place it where it belonged in time.