As the new arrivals walked toward Turing House, Chertov hung back to observe. Officially, he remained in Goldendale because there was a small chance that the anti-gay incident wasn't over. He had the freedom from his agency handlers to make his own decisions about how his assignments were carried out, and he decided to remain in Goldendale a few more days. Chertov had been delighted that Dr. Jansen had invited him to stay, for two reasons: he had developed a genuine affection for the mathematician and his family, and the invitation put him exactly where he needed to be to do his work. It was in some ways a working vacation, but the vacation aspect was that he could be relaxed with his sexuality. He hadn't realized how normal he had come to feel among the Goldendale crowd.
He had driven his van to help Lucas pick up the visiting kids from the Quality Inn, where they had stayed the night before. After they reached Turing House, four teenagers climbed out of Jeff's van: Vincent, Mathew Ahmed, Jamie, and Ray.
Vincent, if Chertov remembered the names correctly — was tall for his age, perhaps fifteen, and wore black even in the heat about which he had been warned. His hair had an unnatural reddish hue, spiked on top and close-cropped about his ears. He shuffled more than walked, and Chertov thought the boy's demeanor more studied than genuine. This one, were he under surveillance, wouldn't be worth watching carefully.
He couldn't tell the sex of the second of the four visitors — Jamie, from what had been James at birth; he or she seemed in transition, maybe forming in a chrysalis of puberty. Jamie's clothing of neutral color was loose and comfortable, and Chertov didn't have the impression that he/she was confused as to gender. The body might not be cooperating, though.
Despite the obvious temptation to assume him to be suspect because of his name, he thought the dark-skinned thirteen-year-old, Mathew Ahmed, was just a sweet kid.
However, the last of the visitors, Ray, fourteen, was the one whom instinct told him to watch carefully. Something about this one was blank, and Chertov didn't like ground he couldn't see clearly.
Whatever these young people brought with them to Goldendale from Portland, they weren't Chertov's first concern. His experience, though, taught him to look at everyone as he looked at the visitors, searching for inconsistency, not coherence.
As they approached the porch, Jeff noticed that one of the cousins and the first visitor of the summer were absent. Jim wasn't present, either. Oh, no, he thought. The combination of Marshall's and Armin's absence brought him as close to sorrow as he could be brought.
#
A half hour earlier, JG had asked Marshall to wake Armin so that they could wander over to welcome the visitors. Marshall had gone to the family room where Armin was napping. When he spoke to his friend, the boy didn't turn his head. Moving to the foot of the air mattress, Marshall was hit by a fear that made him pale and sweaty and filled his gut with pain. "Armin?"
Armin's hoarse whisper replied, "Hard to move my legs." The words came out slightly slurred, and he stared straight up at the ceiling, unblinking.
Marshall tore out of the room, screaming for his grandfather. Jim, who had been reading in the living room, hurried back to the family room with Marshall. He told his grandson to wait at the foot of the bed. Kneeling next to the mattress, Jim felt for the boy's pulse at his neck and watched his shallow breathing. "Armin, take my hand," Jim ordered holding out his hand to the boy.
Armin struggled to lift his arm until, shaking, it fell futilely back to the bed. Jim observed that the boy wasn't blinking. "Close your eyes, Armin."
Nothing changed. Marshall felt ill. "JG …?"
"Stay with Armin, Marsh. I need to make a call."
Marshall came to Armin's side and grasped the boy's limp hand. He had seen the look in his grandfather's eyes when he left to make the call. He was doing his best not to cry. "Don't worry. JG will get help."
The slurred speech came out slowly in breathy whispers. "I'm not afraid. Thank you for this time."
"I'll go with you if you have to go." Marshall looked anywhere but at his friend's unblinking eyes. The room, so familiar, no longer gave comfort. Finally, he summoned the courage to look at Armin, and he squeezed the cool hand.
"No. You … stay … here."
"I won't let you go alone. I promise."
JG returned quietly. "Your mother's on the way here from Turing House. She'll stay with you."
"I'm going with Armin."
"Oh, Marsh. We can't let you do that."
Before he could argue, he heard the front door close. He expected his mother, but instead, Bob Yount, in uniform, came in with a partner trailing an ambulance stretcher.
"Let them get Armin on the stretcher, Marsh."
He reluctantly released Armin's hand and moved away from his friend. He watched as Yount explained to Armin how they would move him and then carefully lifted him onto the rolling cot. As Yount passed Jim he whispered, "IV?"
Marshall saw his grandfather shake his head. As the paramedics rolled his friend toward the front door, Annie walked in. She knew what was happening because North and she had talked about this eventuality with Jim. Her son said simply, "I'm going with him."
Annie took a breath, and told the boy, "No. You can't do that."
"He'll be alone in the hospital."
"He's not going to the hospital; he's going home."
"Then, I'll go home with him."
"Marshall, he needs to be with his family — alone with his family."
The words came out as an anguished whine. "I promised him."
"I'm sorry, Marsh."
Marshall screamed at his mother, "You can't stop me! Please, he needs me."
She moved to hug him, both to comfort and restrain him, and said, "I know. I'm sorry." She felt the warmth of his tears running onto her cheek and felt as badly as she had ever as a parent.
He choked on the words as he quietly cried into her ear, "I'll never forgive you for this." He pushed her away and ran to the front door as the ambulance pulled away with his friend and his grandfather in the back. Marshall turned from the door, and looking to his mother with a hateful look she had never seen on that sweet face in almost fourteen years, climbed the stairs to his room.
#
As the newcomers were getting acquainted with everyone at Turing House, JT, who was still on the porch talking with Jamie, saw the ambulance arrive and leave from his grandfather's place. He walked to Sam's side and whispered what he had seen, finally telling his cousin, "You should go."
Sam found his father and explained that he needed to go to JG's place and why. Jerry simply nodded, and the boy took off. He and JT both knew how much Armin had come to mean to Marsh. In fact, he more than half-suspected that Marsh wouldn't be there when he arrived — that Marsh would be in the ambulance with Armin. The first clue that things were amiss was seeing his Aunt Annie sitting in the living room of JG's house looking forlorn.
"Did Marsh go with them?"
His aunt seemed stung by the words. "No. JG, North and I thought it better that he not go. They're taking Armin home."
Sam wasn't sure he had heard her correctly, and then he wondered how people as bright as his aunt and uncle could make such a colossal misjudgment. "Why not?"
"Armin is dying. Marsh doesn't understand how bad it will be, and Armin's father won't understand why he's so upset. Armin might not even know he's there."
"Where is Marsh?"
Annie looked toward the stairs, and Sam walked up to talk with his cousin. He knocked on the bedroom door and heard rancor in the reply that he had never heard from his cousin. "Stay the fuck away from me!"
He opened the door and tentatively stepped in to see Marsh curled up on his bed facing the wall. "Marsh, it's me, Sam."
When Marshall turned to face him, his appearance frightened Sam. At the same time, it pulled him toward the bed. He sat on the edge beside Marshall and gently touched his cousin's hip. "What happened?"
In between jags of weeping, Marshall got out the story, ending with, "I promised him, and now he'll think I don't care."
Sam tried to defend their grandfather and Marshall's parents. "They know how hard it would be for you. They're trying to do what's best."
Marshall shattered his rationale. "How bad will it be if Uncle Luke is dying? You want them to decide you shouldn't be with him?"
Sam knew the situations were different, but he understood exactly how his cousin felt. "Wait."
Sam marched back downstairs and sat across from his aunt. He wanted to light into her but saw how distressed she was. "You all are wrong. He promised."
Annie looked at him, and he sensed her ambivalence about the decision. He pressed her, "He'll never get over it. You want him to feel his whole life as if he failed someone he loved?"
"Of course not."
"Uncle Jason helped when his father died. Marshall needs to help here."
Annie remembered standing in Jason's father's room trying to support Jason and Jon, thought about her son, and realized that the decision had been wrong, or at least that no good choice was at hand. "Go up and stay with him. I'll call North."
After a quarter-hour, the door to the bedroom opened. "Get straightened up and meet me by the car."
Marshall was still seething. "We'd better not be too late."
Annie grimaced, and they heard her footfall on the stairs. "She's trying to make it right, Marsh."
Marshall hurried into his bathroom, washed his face, and ran downstairs. Sam followed and heard the car starting and heading down the drive.
#
The next morning, Sam was up early. He and two of the new arrivals, Vince and Jamie, were on breakfast duty. His fathers were sleeping in, recovering from getting everyone acclimated to Goldendale. All the visitors had elected to stay at the farms instead of the motel. Vee, Markie, and JT had made them welcome and shown them around while worrying about Armin and Marshall. The arrivals had met Rodrigo, Ben and some of the other hands.
Vince asked JT to show him and Jamie where all the kitchen implements were. While Vince surveyed the equipment as Sam pulled it out of cabinets, Marshall came in looking as if he had arrived from the front line of a war, ready to fly apart.
Vince offered, "Don't worry. We can handle breakfast."
Sam thanked him and Jamie, saying he'd be back as soon as he could and went to his cousin, took his hand and dragged him to the empty living room.
Marshall nodded to the unspoken question, and Sam said, "I'm sorry, Marsh. It's just not fair."
"I think he knew I was there even though he couldn't talk. I held his hand." Then laughing ruefully he added, "I don't think his father could face the implications of my presence."
"Fuck him."
"Yeah. JG had Armin loaded up with drugs because the pain was bad. I didn't know the cancer was in his brainstem. After a while, he just stopped breathing, and then he looked peaceful.
"I'm tired, Sam." For Marshall everything had seemed to stop at the moment of Armin's last breath. He felt as if he were frozen in place, as everyone and everything moved about him. From the stillness, he was able to understand what his parents had tried to spare him from, and the anger began to ebb. For some reason, as he left Armin's side, he had thought briefly of Adam and Eve but felt not even a flickering movement of desire. Before he left Armin's home, though, he remembered the touch of Armin's lips on his in the barn, and in his mind he started to move again in time.
"Do your parents know you're back?"
"Yeah. Mom brought me home. I didn't want to stay there."
"They did the right thing in the end. Go up to my room and sleep. I'll get you later."
Marshall turned and went to the staircase. He stopped and told Sam, "Thanks for talking to Mom. You're my best friend."
Normally Marshall was the hugger and Sam was more diffident, but he went to Marshall and hugged him before letting his cousin use his bed. "I didn't have to persuade her too hard. We'll talk about how it went later, okay?"
Marshall nodded. Sam went back to supervise breakfast preparation.
"Who was that?" Jamie asked.
"That's Marshall, my cousin."
"He didn't look so good."
"A friend of his died this morning. He was supposed to stay with us, but he …" He didn't finish the sentence because he couldn't imagine a way to make sense to Jamie of what his cousin had gone through.
"That's sad."
"Yeah. … It is." The obvious – but then what would she say?
Vince overheard the conversation. He thought he might know what Marshall was going through and that there wasn't much help for it.
To change the subject, he announced: "We decided on open-faced broiled sandwiches for breakfast — Canadian bacon and provolone on English muffins. Simple, and we can serve yogurt with fruit." If all else is useless, feed people.
Sam didn't care much about breakfast now, and he was grateful that Vince and Jamie were taking charge. Then, he heard the front door open. What now? He knew the others wouldn't be here this early. Walking into the living room again, he met Jeff Chertov coming in from a run. The agent was in brief shorts and a tank top. Chertov greeted him quietly. "Hey, Sam. Need help with breakfast?"
"No. Vince and Jamie have it in hand." Noting how profusely Chertov was sweating, Sam added, "Maybe you can set the table … after you shower."
"I can take a hint. I'll be right back down." He turned to head upstairs.
Sam quickly told him, "Marsh is in my room, so be a little quiet."
Laughing inwardly because he made a living being quiet, Chertov replied, "Right. I'll be careful. Is he all right?"
"I don't know. Should he be?"
"No, not yet. Being with someone while he dies isn't something you get over quickly … if ever. But, all right? Yes, he'll be all right."
As he watched Jeff climb the stairs, he realized that Jeff had probably seen people die, maybe a lot of people.
With the last of the expanded crew arrived, breakfast was the usual raucous affair, full of adolescent noise and conversation. The four new arrivals were becoming less guarded, helped by the way the cousins and the adults treated them. Only Ray remained distant; Chertov still couldn't gauge him, and the boy mostly kept to himself, reading. Jeff had decided that Jamie was a she, although born with male equipment. He thought her journey the most difficult of any of the younger members of the group, yet she seemed at peace with her lot. Vee and Markie had adopted her as a sister and Annie as a daughter, male plumbing notwithstanding. She was staying in Markie's room. Only Marshall was absent, sleeping through the breakfast in Sam's room above.
During the morning meal Vince suggested calling the sandwiches they had created McTurings, and a new breakfast staple was born. As they were finishing the meal, Sam chose a pause in the improvisation of conversation to announce apropos of nothing, "I'm going to walk the spur on Friday."
Chertov and the other adults were surprised to hear Ray ask, "Walk the spur?"
"The South Spur is a route to the top of Klickitat —Mt. Adams." Looking briefly at Chertov, Sam continued, "We didn't get to camp at Adams glacier this year, and I want to crawl around on the mountain."
Ray, suddenly engaged, said, "You're going to climb the mountain? To the top?" Sam nodded as everyone at the large table tracked the conversation in silence. "Can I go?"
Mathew, the smallest of the visitors, asked, "Isn't that dangerous?"
Sam explained, "The South Spur isn't a technical route." He saw the confusion on their faces. "I mean, you don't need rope systems. It's more like a steep hike, although there might still be patches of snow, and there's always snow at the summit." Looking at Ray, Sam answered, "You're welcome to come along. Providing I can get Marsh to help, any of you can go." Annie knew what he was up to. If he could get Marshall on the mountain, her son's perspective might begin to be restored.
Mathew quickly notified everyone, "I'll pass."
Annie, still enfolded in concern about her son, suggested, "Those of you who don't want to climb the mountain can go rock climbing at Smith Rock with North and me."
"That's more my speed … I think."
By the time the conversation concluded, all the kids and most of the adults had assigned themselves to one group or the other. Sam, Jeff, Ray, Markie, and Jamie would attempt the mountain. Jeff had decided to climb Adams because he thought he'd have fun, but also because he wanted to keep an eye on Ray. Jim, along with North, volunteered to help drive the contingent of rock climbers to Smith Rock. The others, including Vee and JT, who climbed at Smith Rock often, and Mathew and Vince, who had always wanted to rock-climb, would go to Smith Rock.
In his van, Jeff would ferry the mountain climbers to the Cold Springs Campground near the Klickitat tree line from which they would set out. Sam reminded them all that his plan depended on Marshall agreeing to climb with them. He saw his aunt look at him with a smile of thanks. They would all make their attempts on a weekday when both sites would be less crowded.
Lucas had to be pulled out of contemplation of a topology problem that had absorbed him for the past few days. When he figured out their plans, he told them he and Jerry would stay behind with Jason. Looking at the pack of kids, he asked, "What's on the docket between now and the expeditions?"
Sam quickly said, "We have stuff to do in the empty barn at JG's." Close to the time the visitors would leave, the Evergreen Resort, a small RV campground on US-97 with cabins and a performance space, would hold an annual blues festival called Barnyard Blues. Sam, Marshall, and JT, who played drums, had already bullshitted their way into performing there this year. All they needed was a bass player, and a few more vocalists wouldn't hurt. The families had attended the festival for the past few years, and Sam and Marsh had jammed with some of the regulars, who had suggested that they consider playing at the festival. The boys had also played a couple of evening gigs as a trio at the resort last summer. Sam hoped they could scrounge a bass player from among the visiting kids and that the others would sing. If none of the visitors could be taught to play at least innocuous bass, he or Marshall could manage.
After the meal ended and while the kids, joined even by the cooks, made short work of the dishes, Vince asked, "What's going on in the barn?"
"You'll see," Sam replied. "I need you all to come at least for an hour." He looked at all the faces and saw even Ray agree.
Sam had learned from as many summers as he could remember that he and his cousins would probably not see the visitors again once they left Goldendale. The only mark left on their spirits then would be from the few difficult challenges they would manage while here. Until three years ago, their parents had been the sponsors of the adventures; beginning then, his generation set them in motion — this summer, climbing and performing. In a strange way, the most lasting effects on visitors' lives would be memories of what was possible for families and the joy of simple work — that and a lasting gift his fathers would give them. They wouldn't know about the gift until just before they left.
#
At the far end of the cavernous barn interior through a soft haze of dust motes and suspended particles of hay, there were two guitars, an electric bass, and a drum kit, along with amplifiers and microphones. All the equipment was draped with cloth. Sam and Vee had moved the equipment from its usual resting place near the east wall and set up the studio after Marshall had played for Armin there. The enhanced electrical service to this building had been a gift from JG when they had begun to play together a few years ago, and the barn was a perfect place for teenage musicians to practice.
These guitars, however, weren't gifts; Marshall and Sam had to sweat in the alfalfa fields and save allowances to buy them. They shared the cost of the bass. The guitars were used Rickenbackers, one a precious 1996FG and the other a 370/12, an absolute bitch to keep tuned properly — but that was Marshall's problem. The drum kit was JT's, a used Gretsch Renegade kit in solid jet black that he kept here at the farm. The bass, a fretless instrument, also a Rickenbacker, was a no-longer-made 4000FL. The boys had acquired the instruments at a pawnshop and guitar store, Guitar Crazy, in southeast Portland, across the Willamette River from Marshall's home.
JT turned to a breaker panel near the door and flipped up the main. Soft light from the ceiling obliterated the haze, and Sam led the group of teenagers across the broad floor to the instruments. JT carefully uncovered the drum set, tossing the tarp on the floor to one side of his kit before sitting on the throne. Sam followed with the others a little behind his cousin. He sat on the floor in front of the instruments and indicated that the others should do the same.
"This Sunday, we're going to play at a local blues festival. When I say we, I mean all of us. JT is our drummer and Marshall and I play guitar. We need a bass player and vocalists. Any of you by some chance play or sing?"
After a short stretch of silence, Jamie said, "I play cello." The others replied that they didn't play any instruments, but they sang in the shower. JT smirked, and Sam thought this might be a very bad idea after all.
"Okay. This is Goldendale. You won't see reviews in any of the Portland papers, and I doubt that anyone you know will be in the audience. We should treat this like karaoke except that the orchestra won't be empty. If you've ever wanted to be a rock star, this is your chance. Who's in?"
Jamie agreed immediately, and finally everyone except Ray said they'd have a go. The others wheedled Ray into practicing, if not performing. Sam observed that Ray seemed to enjoy being the object of the others' attempts at persuasion.
Sam uncased the bass and handed it to Jamie. "No frets," she commented, "that's excellent."
Sam suggested, "Just treat it like a cello."
"Like in the movie, Master and Commander."
The others were confused. Jamie told them, "Paul Bettany holds his cello like a guitar and plucks the strings."
Sam and the others smiled at her enthusiasm. Sam uncased the six-string 1996FG and plugged it into the chromatic tuner. When he was satisfied with the tuning, he plugged the guitar through a JangleBox JB2 compressor into his amp. The Rics were a bit thumpy without compression. He put finger picks on the last two fingers of his right hand while holding a flat pick with the first two fingers and nodded to JT who clacked his sticks together counting, "One, two, three, four."
Sam began to play against a complex rhythm driven by JT. The guitar sound filled the cavern of the barn, sounding a little like a piano with a lot of sustain pedal, but batting on the walls prevented echo. None of the visitors recognized the song at first. After a lead-in, Sam turned off the compression, and he and JT began to sing into vocal mikes:
I come home in the mornin' light
My mother says, "When you gonna live your life right?"
"Oh, Mommy dear, we're not the fortunate ones
And girls, they wanna have fun
Whoa, girls just wanna have fun"
The phone rings in the middle of the night
My father yells, "Whatcha gonna do with your life?"
"Oh, Daddy dear, you know you're still number one
But girls they wanna have fun
Oh girls, just wanna have"
That's all they really want
Some fun
When the workin' day is done
Oh, girls, they wanna have fun
Oh, girls, just wanna have fun
The music stopped. As the others, stunned by the quality of the playing, looked at JT and Sam. Vince, having recognized the song halfway through, said, "Glee. But, they did it a lot slower." Then, he was embarrassed at his revelation that he watched the reruns.
Ray laughed. "I watch it, too." At that moment, Sam began to warm to Ray.
"Cyndi Lauper wrote it, and Glee ripped off Greg Laswell's version — I mean blatant rip-off — and didn't even credit him. We're going to do a bluesy version like Lauper's on her To Memphis with Love album, and we'll change the lyrics a bit. That way the guitar work will shine, and we'll all like the message. I wish Marsh were here so you could hear the 12-string."
Jamie asked, "How long have you been playing?"
JT pressed the bass-drum pedal and replied, "Since we were ten, so almost four years. This is one of our parents' many attempts to keep us out of trouble."
"Let me try the bass."
The others watched as Jamie put the strap over her shoulder and began to pluck the strings as if she were playing pizzicato on the cello using only her forefinger. While she was experimenting, Sam plugged the bass into its amp. Jamie jumped as the amplified thumps spread across the barn. She did a few scales. Sam and JT smiled as the other kids nodded approvingly. "Whoa! The notes really sustain on this thing." Marshall stomped on the compressor pedal to shut it down, and the bass began to thump more crisply.
"Well, you'll do fine. We just have to get you to stop playing melody," Sam said with amusement. "JT will work with you; drums have to converse with the bass. Listen to this." He plugged his phone into one of the amps and played a couple of Byrds songs. Chris Hillman's bass lines were a perfect model.
"Okay. I think I understand."
"If you sight-read, we'll get you sheet music before we practice again."
Vince asked, "How are you going to change the lyrics?"
"Instead of 'girls,' we're going to sing 'boys.' Sorry about that, Jamie. You can still sing 'girls.' Instead of 'Daddy or Mommy,' we're going to sing 'parents.'"
JT, the taskmaster for the rehearsals announced, "Okay, let's start."
Mathew, Vince, and Ray stood before a couple of microphones to do backing vocals. They worked together for three hours, and Sam began to have a little hope. Part of his optimism came from the lighthearted way they practiced. Showmanship can overcome a lot of talent deficits. The tempo and style of the version they were practicing allowed the backing vocals to be growled as much as sung. Toward the end of the session, the barn door opened, and Marshall walked in. Sam thought that he looked dazed. JT pointed one of his sticks at the Ric, and Marsh trudged over and pulled it from its case. He went to a corner with the tuner and took ten minutes to tune the thing.
When Marshall returned, the visitors sat on the floor while the cousins began to play a 60s tune, "So You Want to Be a Rock and Roll Star." The 12-string, played through another compressor, sounded almost like an organ. Marshall didn't smile once as he played, even when the cousins finished and the visitors whooped their approval.
Marshall began to pick another old song. Sam walked over and sang the lyric as Marshall played. Jamie improvised an understated base line; she was beginning to understand what her part was supposed to do.
He was a friend of mine.
He was a friend of mine.
His dying had no purpose,
No reason or rhyme.
He was a friend of mine.
As the song ended, Sam touched his forehead to Marshall's and whispered, "Nice, Marsh. He would have loved that."
Marshall wiped his eyes and told the group, "I want to do that as our second number on Sunday."
Although none of the visitors knew the origin of the song, of all of them it saddened Vince most. The music brought back the memory of his brother's death two years ago. The others had vague ideas of what had happened to Armin, but couldn't know how close he and Marshall had become. Ray started to leave the barn, but Marshall called to him. "Help me get up to speed, please."
After another hour, Sam was satisfied that they could afford to take the time for the expeditions between now and the festival performance. Everyone pitched in to get the instruments cased and covered and the cables stowed. Everyone but Marshall and Sam left the barn humming "Boys Just Want to Have Fun." Marshall sat on JT's drum throne while Sam stood. In silence, they looked at one another for a few minutes. A couple of times, Marshall started to speak, but stopped before anything came out. Finally, Sam asked, "Want to talk about it?"
"His father really pissed me off."
"What happened?"
"He looked at me as if I had corrupted Armin. He had no idea who his son was, and he and his wife were nearly yelling at each other in Serbian."
"Did Armin ever wake up?"
"No. But I think he knew I was holding his hand. I don't know why, but I think he did."
"It's important to you to believe that he did."
"I didn't know him for long, but … "
"You loved him."
"Something happened when I played for him. It's not like it was for JG when Grampa died. I just feel empty now."
"You're going to be okay."
"I know. I think I just spent every ounce of energy I had. I don't really feel so much sad as flat."
"Talk to Frank or Uncle Jason, okay?"
"Maybe."
"You okay with your mom and dad?"
"I don't know. I'm still not happy with them. I shouldn't have had to fight with them about this."
Sam laughed and suggested, "I'll share mine with you until you forgive them."
"Thanks, I think."
"I need you to help me with a climb Friday. I'm not doing it alone."
"Yeah, I heard. I'll go. Vi says the mountain whispers to climbers. Maybe I'll hear something important."