Chapter VII.
Avalanche Lake was in Keene Valley, ten miles south of Lake Placid. Nestled in a narrow gorge, flanked by sheer rock cliffs, it afforded breathtaking views from its lofty summit.
The clouds had remained low and it was cold, but thankfully there was little wind. Jonah had insisted on driving, so Lyra sat in the passenger’s seat trying vainly to make Harry lie down in the back. He preferred standing up with his head between them, his hot, moist breath on their faces. Every few minutes he would try to lick one of their exposed ears or nuzzle their neck. He blithely ignored Lyra’s scolding.
No other cars were in sight when they parked at the trail head. Jonah took command of the backpack and Harry’s leash and led the way up the trail. He set an easy, but steady pace. Under the canopy of trees, ferns grew abundantly and the rocks were fuzzy with green moss. They passed through patches of lush forest and open meadows. They walked the first mile or so of the rolling terrain in companionable silence. When they reached the pond at Marcy Dam, they stopped to rest. They laughed watching a pair of beavers construct a complicated network of twigs, branches, and debris, forming an embankment on the east side of the pond. Jonah let Harry off his leash and when he tired of running along the bank barking at the beavers, he nosed around the high, waving grass hunting rodents.
Lyra’s curiosity burned to know more about Jonah, but she was hesitant to question him. She racked her brain for a tactful way to open the subject.
“Mom and Dad met your uncle the other day,” she finally volunteered.
He raised one brow in silent inquiry.
“He sat beside them in Casey’s the other day at lunch. They heard the waitress call him by name and introduced themselves. They said he was very nice.”
Jonah smiled sadly. “He is.” He inhaled deeply and looked back out over the lake. “He’s a very good person. Jet—that’s what I call him—is my mother’s brother. My parents died in a…in an accident…when I was ten years old. Jet took me in and has treated me as if I were his own son. He’s never been married and has no children of his own, so I’m sure adopting me was not an easy undertaking.”
“Your mother and uncle were close then?” Lyra asked, hoping to draw him out.
Jonah’s eyes turned hard. “Not really. Jet wasn’t allowed to come around much. My uncle and my father despised each other.” Jonah broke off, staring at something or someone unseen. His mouth twisted in a mocking sneer. “Perhaps Jet took me to spite my father…You see, my father despised me.”
A cold fist squeezed Lyra’s insides. She held her breath and waited for him to continue.
His jaw tightened and he closed his eyes, his expression pained, but he said no more. By degrees, the muscles in his face relaxed. He opened his eyes and glanced over at Lyra. He laughed harshly.
“I’m sorry. Bad memories. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. And, whatever my father’s feelings were for me, Uncle Jet doesn’t share them. He’s got a heart of gold.” Sighing, he got to his feet and held out his hand to help Lyra up, gazing down at her apologetically.
Lyra put her slender hand in his large one and let him pull her to her feet. He didn’t step back when she stood up, but towered over her, their bodies inches from touching. He kept her hand captive in his, his piercing blue eyes roving her face. With his other hand he lifted a tendril of hair that the breeze had swept across her face and tucked it behind her ear. Delicious shivers ran up Lyra’s spine that had nothing to do with the cold air.
“You are so beautiful and…uncommonly kind,” he murmured, his breath warm on her face. “What are you doing here with me?”
She couldn’t answer because her mouth had gone suddenly dry, but she didn’t want to anyway. She wanted to go on looking into his eyes forever. Involuntarily, she leaned in.
He squeezed her hand and released it. Stepping back and smiling gravely, he advised, “We’d better get moving if we’re going to climb this lump of rock today.”
Coming out of her trance, Lyra nodded and called for Harry hoarsely.
They hadn’t seen anyone else on the trail so they agreed to let Harry walk unrestrained. He ran ahead of them and back again exuberantly. As they left the pond behind, the path became steep and rocky. Harry would scramble up the steep grade, his four legs more nimble than their two, then wait, watching from above their labored progress over the rugged incline.
Their ascension through the remote mountain pass was slow, each step deliberate, as they navigated the loose rock and exposed tree roots. When the path opened up near the crag’s zenith, the panoramic view was spectacular. The brilliant leaves in their autumn splendor had begun to fall, but the hillsides were still a patchwork of vibrant yellows, reds, oranges, and greens of the evergreens.
“Wow,” Jonah exclaimed, standing with his hands on his hips. “This is fantastic.”
Lyra smiled, hoping he was now glad he had come.
They found a couple of flat rocks and stopped to rest and take in the majestic scene spread out before them. The air was fragrant with the spicy scent of the balsam firs, spruces, and Scotch pines. Other than an occasional call of a bird and Harry snuffling around, it was still and quiet.
Jonah passed Lyra a water bottle and granola bar and filled Harry’s bowl. Harry drank noisily and then came to lay by Lyra, fatigued from the climb. They watched raptly as an eagle soared among the cliffs, its sharp eye searching for prey. A deep sense of peace filled Lyra and when she looked over at Jonah, he smiled contentedly back at her.
“So tell me about yourself, Lyra Grant,” he requested, his voice mild but curious.
She shrugged. “There isn’t anything to tell. I live a perfectly ordinary life.”
“Tell me about your family.”
“Well, my parents are attorneys, but don’t hold that against them,” she joked. “They’re very nice people. I’m an only child. My grandparents on both sides are deceased. I never really knew them. My mother was an only child too, but my father has two brothers. Uncle Larry is a stock broker in New York City. He has a son, but he and his wife are divorced, and we rarely see them. Uncle Emile—Uncle M for short—is an accountant in Boston. He and his partner of many years, Bradley, live there with their two schnauzers.” She raised her eyebrows in amusement. “They sometimes visit during the holidays and are always very entertaining.”
“I bet,” he laughed. “What do you do for fun?”
“This, for one thing. I love to be outdoors. I read a lot, hang out with my friends…you know,” she shrugged again, “the usual.”
“Is that all?” he questioned further, a doubtful look on his face.
“Oh, and I play the cello.”
He leaned back, an odd smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “Do you really?” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement. “And do you play well?” he asked.
“I’m okay,” Lyra admitted modestly.
“Humph.”
“What?” Lyra laughed. “Do you think that’s funny?”
“I think you’re funny,” he declared.
“Well, what about you? What do you like to do?” Lyra returned.
His grin faded a bit. “I like to read too. Since moving here, I’ve been spending a lot of time walking and exploring myself. Jet and I play chess sometimes, and I like to listen to music,” his secret smile returning.
“Have you read anything good lately?” Lyra asked.
“I just finished Moby Dick. I really liked it. And I just started The Alchemist. I think it’s going to be good, but I’m not very far into it.”
“The Alchemist? I haven’t heard of that. Who’s the author?
“Paulo Coelho.”
They discussed books and their favorite movies for a while longer, then repacked the empty water bottles and granola wrappers and started making their way down along the narrow gorge overlooking the lake. They paused several times to admire the magnificent vistas as they edged alon
g the sheer cliffs. Jonah took the lead, but stayed close to assist her down the slippery slope.
They’d been hiking down the mountain for about half an hour when, as Jonah was helping Lyra over a large boulder, his body suddenly tensed and he went still. He cocked his head to one side. For a moment he stood there immobile, his hand grasping Lyra’s tightly. His eyes, cautious and alert, found hers and held them briefly.
He released her and turned. “Harry,” he called softly. Harry looked back. “Come here, boy.” Jonah kneeled down and Harry rushed to him. Jonah pulled the leash out of his pocket and clipped it to Harry’s collar.
“What is it, Jonah?”
Jonah shook his head. “I hear something up ahead—a bear perhaps. Let’s just go a little more slowly and maybe it will move on before we get too close.”
They walked several more minutes and try as she might, Lyra heard nothing but their footsteps and the breeze whistling through the canyon. Finally, she caught the sound of faint rumbling and scratching. Harry started growling deep in his throat, but suddenly stopped and turned to look at Jonah as if Jonah had called his name. Jonah stared fixedly into Harry’s eyes a moment. Harry whined softly, his ears folded back, and then inexplicably, he swiveled around and continued along the path mutely.
They continued along the trail, the grumbling getting progressively louder. When it sounded as though they were fairly close, Lyra began to discern a higher pitched bawling as well. Though unseen on account of the sharp bends in the path, Lyra recognized the unmistakable bellow of a black bear. It echoed across the granite cliffs and back again. They crept forward until, at last, they could tell it was just beyond the next crook in the path. They stopped and listened. Jonah twisted around and handed Lyra Harry’s leash. He put his finger to his lips and then pointed to the ground, noiselessly instructing her to be silent and stay put.
Lyra’s eyes grew wide with fear. What did he intend to do? She shook her head adamantly. He looked into her eyes intently and, though his lips did not move, she heard his voice clearly in her head.
It’s okay. Stay here until I come back for you.
Her eyes widened further in astonishment. Jonah’s expression turned grim. Again, his voice came to her soundlessly.
Stay here.
He wheeled around, jogged ahead, and disappeared around the bend. The bear’s grunts and moans rose into a thunderous roar of frustration. Harry yanked at the leash nearly pulling Lyra face first onto the ground, frantically straining to follow Jonah. Lyra wound the leash around her hand more securely and allowed him pull her forward slowly. Inch by inch, she approached the turn in the path, until she was finally able to peek around. She gasped in fright at the scene before her.
An enormous bear lay on its stomach, more than half of its vast torso precariously balanced over the precipice. As Lyra watched, the mammoth creature swiped an arm downward, each of its four-inch-long, razor-sharp claws extended. Lyra heard again the same plaintive bawling from earlier. She searched the surrounding area and spotted two furry bear cubs up a tall pine watching their mother anxiously. A softer mewling came from over the edge of the ridge.
Jonah walked slowly toward the anguished, prostrate mother, his arms raised, palms outward. When the bear caught sight of him, she heaved her massive body back onto the ledge, howling in rage. The fearsome beast lurched upright, sable coat quivering, eyes rolling. Her hulking form cast Jonah in shadow. Her blond muzzle twisted in a savage snarl which thundered explosively across the open expanse. Lyra’s insides turned to ice and she dug her fingernails into her palms painfully to keep from fainting in terror.
Jonah froze. The formidable creature dropped to all fours and Lyra saw her shoulders bunch, ready to launch herself at Jonah. For several interminable seconds, the irate bear growled furiously at Jonah, but Jonah fearlessly stood his ground.
The mother continued to growl viciously but made no move to pounce. Lyra was dizzy from holding her breath. Eventually, the bear quieted and her taut muscles relaxed, but she continued to eye Jonah warily. Lyra risked taking a shallow breath.
Jonah had not moved since the bear had spotted him. After several minutes more, the agonized mother eased back onto her haunches and wailed pitifully.
Jonah slowly lowered his hands and took a tentative step forward…then another…and another…until he was standing a mere foot in front of the submissive brute. She rolled her head, moaning in misery. The cubs in the tree brayed mournfully.
Jonah backed toward the edge of the cliff, keeping his eyes on the tormented she-bear. When he neared the rim, he looked over his shoulder down into the plummeting gorge. He turned back and glared intently at the fretful mother for several seconds. She made no move toward him. After satisfying himself that she would not attack, Jonah turned his back on her and lowered himself onto the lip of the cliff. His legs dangled over the side. He braced his arms and carefully turned, shimmying face-first down the side until only his fingers were visible.
Lyra leaned soundlessly to her left and could just make out the third bear-cub perched on a narrow outcrop of rock and clinging to a scrubby hemlock. As Jonah released his grip and dropped to the slender shelf, the frightened cub wailed loudly. The mother bear became more fitful, but remained where she was.
Lyra shifted another couple of inches until she could see over the ledge. Jonah knelt beside the cub, but did not move to touch it. He gazed at the quaking fur ball a few moments, as though somehow communicating his intent. After a moment, Jonah reached out and the now docile cub allowed Jonah to grasp hold of it. He shifted the suckling to press against his chest holding on to it with one arm. With the other, he felt along the smooth stone for a notch or groove with which to pull himself up. He disappeared for a moment and Lyra heard huffing and scraping as he scaled the cliff wall.
Lyra dared not move to help him for fear of re-igniting the she-bear’s wrath, so she held her breath and waited anxiously for him to reappear. She took an involuntary step forward when she saw his reaching hand grip the ledge of the cavern. A second later his head cleared the top, then his shoulders. Somehow, Jonah managed to swing himself and his squirming load back over the edge and set the hairy bundle down. The mother bear rolled to her feet and roared her relief exultantly. The cub scampered gleefully to its mother and she caught it up, cuddling it close. She sniffed and licked every inch of the little thing, checking for injuries, soothing it with her muffled grunts.
Satisfied that the cub had suffered no harm, the mother called to her other two babies. They clamored down the pine tree, and the bear-family ambled off into the dense trees.
Lyra watched the tender scene with a bursting heart. She had never witnessed anything so amazing in her life. She turned, eyes brimming with tears, toward Jonah.