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The Distance

Dan Maltbie

    “Slow down son! It’s up here on the right,” Frank said.
    “I know where it is dad. Just let me drive, ok?” I said.
    The Jeep slowed and edged off the black top into the tall grass. The smell of honeysuckles blew in on the light breeze.
    “I can remember the first time we came out here. Your Pop had bought the house and land on foreclosure,” Frank said.
    “I know. You tell me that every time we come out,” I said. “Why exactly did Mom want to do this here?”
    “She said that the summers we spent here were the best times of her life,”
    I turned down a rutted out trail that sloped downhill ahead of the tree line. The tall brown grass that sprouted up between patches of loose rock begged for rain.
    “Did you let Coach Thompson know we were driving across his property?” I asked.
    “Coach came by last night. He said there were a few trees down from a tornado last spring,” Frank said.
    “I’m not worried about the trees. I don’t want to get confused for a trespasser. Coach Thompson could have a flashback and shoot us!”
    “Hell, he still might shoot us.”
    The air was much cooler in the shade of the mountain and I could feel the rush of water thrumming the ground. I pulled the Jeep onto a bed of crunchy pine needles and parked. The sky was bright and my shirt was sticking to my back with sweat.
    “Are you going to make it ok Dad?” I asked, mopping my brow.
    “I will be just fine boy. I might be old but I raised you for trips like this. Worry about you,” he said wrapping a bandana around his head.
    Dust covered the tailgate as I pulled out my rucksack, checking the pockets for water and bug spray.
    “Are we sleeping in Sparky’s old shoot house?” Frank asked.
    “When I talked to him he said that we could. If the clouds don’t roll in I’m going to sleep outside by the fire. The office is cramped and the fluorescent lights are sucking out my soul.”
    We loaded our packs and headed off across the cool creek water into the woods. I kept an eye on my dad and made sure the heat wasn’t too much. All the years of working in chicken houses seemed to make him impervious to the elements, except water.
    “I hate having wet feet! Now it’s going to be an hour before they dry out,” Frank said.
    “Just in time for us to cross this creek again.”
    We started up the rocky slope and grabbed onto saplings as leverage if we needed to climb. I had made this trip so often that I knew where I could find the handholds without looking.
    “They don’t give you exercise like this in the office do they boy?” Frank said looking back at the creek below flashing a huge smile.
    “I sit for nine or ten hours a day some days. I go on runs and do some other stuff, hiking is what I love to do,” I said, slipping in the cold rush of water.
    “Your mother always said that exercise makes you feel better. She was right about everything,” Frank said.
    “Why didn’t she want me to know she was sick?”
    The smile vanished from Frank’s lips.
    “You had just started your new job and you were happy. She didn’t want to ruin it for you.”
    “Ruin it for me? So she waited from the day you found out until the day she died and wouldn’t tell me?”
    “You don’t understand. Your happiness was the most important thing in her life.”
    I pushed past him and pressed him and further up the hill. Just ahead the terrain began to flatten and the trees thickened.
    “Do we need to stop Dad?”
    “Yeah boy. Let’s sit down up here in the shade,” Frank said, red faced and sweating through the bandana around his head.
    We found a tall white oak that kept us covered from the noonday sun. The coldness of the water shocked my face and neck. I drank a few deep gulps and poured some on my shirt. Frank was trying to hide behind a tree and was taking a few pills.
    The sun was at its height when we set back out on the trail, our shadows stretched out in front guiding us onward.
    “Dad, if we need to go back we can. There is still enough daylight left that we can make it back to my Jeep,”
    “No, I am fine. Let’s just keep going. The trail is flat here until we get to Sparky’s gate. Let’s keep going,” Frank said.
    “Ok, but let me take the bag with the urn in it. You are already carrying the food and a heavy pack.” I said.
    “You are going to be a good father one day,” he said. “Look at you, trying to take care of me like I’m a little boy,”
    “I just don’t want you getting hurt. It’s not something that I need to be mocked over,” I said. “Besides if something happens to you out here there won’t be any help for miles. I would have to make a skid and drag you out myself.”
    “You think having too much of your mother in you is a bad thing? It’s a damn blessing boy, feeling empathy and respect for people are rare commodities these days,” Frank said.
    The extra weight of the urn slowed me to a crawl, but I still kept one eye on Dad at all times. His lean form didn’t seem to know how to stop moving. Several times he lost his footing on the slippery rocks at the bottom of the creek bed.
    “I need to get some water before we hit this hill,” he said slipping down into the icy spring.
    He stabled himself and took a long drink. As he was rising to his feet his knees gave way. Dumping him head first into the creek water.
    “Dad!”
    I ran over and pulled him up. His hands and face were covered in brown mud.
    “I’m so sorry Robby! I – I,” Frank said spitting mud and grit.
    “It’s ok Dad. Let’s go back in the shade.”
    The sun had crossed behind the tops of the trees cooling the night air. Frank drank long and deep from the steel container.
    “The days before she died your mom told me about how much stronger going on this hike made our family. Did you know that there was a baby before you? We had a miscarriage the year before you were born. It was a long time before I saw your mother happy again. This cabin helped bring her back. It has the power to heal.”
    “I always wondered why I never had any siblings,” I said.
    “She said we didn’t want to ruin a good thing. That you were a gift from God and we should enjoy your life to the fullest.”
    Tears streamed down both of our faces. I walked over and hugged my dad for the first time since the funeral. He had the same smell I remember from childhood. His hands were rough and strong.
    “Alright buddy. Let’s see if we can make it up Sparky’s hill,” Frank said grasping me firmly by the arm.
    Calling it a hill was an understatement. I had heard it was the reason a road had never been built to Lake Warren. Someone had determined it was a large spire resting in a shallow trench. Blasting it or going through it was out of the question. The few patches of grass that dotted it were a credit to creation. A collection of rocks and flat stones made a makeshift stairway up the creek bank and onto green pastures. Sections of sheer rock made the climb treacherous and not safe for solo climbing.
    I moved over a series of angled rocks when one shifted, wedging my right foot into a crevice between rock and earth.
    “Rob, are you ok?”
    “Yeah Dad. I just can’t feel my ankle anymore.”
    Dad climbed into my view and moved his weight with mine.
    “On three. Ready?” Frank asked.
    “One...Two...Three...”
    The tendons in my neck were strained against the dead weight. My father’s teeth were bared and he was turning bright red. The weight shifted and I was yanked free from my trap but my right leg wouldn’t hold any weight.
    “Sit down boy, let me look at it.”
    He removed my boot and sock gingerly, using the same care he used when he bandaged my childhood scrapes.
    “It looks like a sprain,” I said.
    “Could be. We won’t know anything until we get some light. We only have a short climb left, let’s lean on each other,” Frank said and vanished down the dark trail returning with a crooked limb.
    “This should help.”
    “What is that supposed to be? A crutch?” I said.
    “It’s the best we can do for now Robby. Just help me out here, ok?”
    The limb was heavy but fit my height well. Dad climbed ahead on the rocks and dragged me up behind him. Every time his face crunched up with effort and then relaxed into a smile.
    “You having a good time now old man?”
    “I can hear your mom’s voice in my head the same words she said when she watched you make this climb.”
    “I remember that day. I had worked all winter just to show you that I could make it.”
    “Frank, she said. Our son wants to impress you. He wants to make you happy and for you to be proud of him. I know how your father was and all the things you left unsaid. Don’t hide yourself from him. One day if something happens to me he will be there for you.”
    I pushed up onto a jutting rock covered in dry fragile grass. Frank was looking at an old corrugated roof building across the pasture.
    “It’s all downhill from now on boy. I think that Sparky has a first aid kit under the bunks. Let me check it out,” he said.
    The sun had fallen behind the ridgeline. Giving way to a clear night sky. The fire was spitting tiny embers into the night making tiny tracers as the flared out. The moon was bright and the stars shone like diamonds.
    “Son, have we ever talked about how my Pop and I got along?”
    “You said he was a worker. That he never missed a day of work or a day of church,” I said.
    “He was those things, and more. He never told me he loved me. We didn’t go out into the yard and throw the ball. So I don’t express myself like I should. You should just know that I love you and will be here for you as long as I can be.”
    “I love you too Dad. Are you going to try and kiss me now?”
    Frank’s nostrils flared and his brow furrowed.
    “Come on dad, it was a joke.”
    It started in his eyes and then progressed to his forehead and cheeks before breaking into a huge smile.
    “Are you ever going to stop falling for that old trick boy? I’ve been pulling that on you since we brought you home from the hospital!”
    “You’re so serious! I can never tell when you are joking,” I said.
    Dad doubled over and was gasping for breath. His laughter was echoing for miles spurring the country dogs to respond.
    The next morning my foot was much better. I still had to use the limb to keep my balance, but I could move it now. The tall green grasses caressed our legs as we strolled along. The creek wound around the pasture and through the pathway. A series of rocks peeking above the water gave us a bridge to our land.
    “I wished we could thank mom for this. She was always scheming some way for us to come back,” I said.
    The cabin was an old A-frame house built in the early 1900s. The back wall faced Lake Warren and had a great porch for a barbecue. Sliding doors made it possible to watch the sun dip down into the lake each night. An old dock reached out into the deep waters of the lake. The boathouse was flecking paint chips and hadn’t housed a boat in decades.
    “Maria, you were the glue that kept us together. We miss you every minute of every day. I am so thankful to God for having you as a partner and a friend.”
    “Mom, you were my best friend. I could always trust you to help me. I don’t know what to do without you but I think that Dad and I can handle it. We love you.”
    Frank removed the lid from the urn and poured Maria’s ashes into the wind.

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