Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Adam
I’m absolutely stunned by the dramatically transformed landscape.
What was once a dense, shaded forest journey on the hike to Feather Falls now reveals a stark, recovering ecosystem since the devastating fires that swept through this area two years ago.
Despite the destruction, I’m happy to see that the Forest Service has completed trail restoration with rebuilt bridges and new observation platforms for visitors.
Still, it’s another gut-punch to my soul.
A film reel of my past plays in my mind. I hike deliberately, focused on my breath and holding back emotion. The last time I walked this trail was just before Evie’s eighth birthday. Mia wanted me to take our daughter to see the waterfall while she decorated the house and baked a cake.
I remember packing a picnic and plenty of water, grateful for the shade of the Plumas National Forest. I also remember Evie’s many questions.
“Daddy, how tall is the waterfall?”
“It’s six hundred and eighty feet, sweetheart.”
“Can people jump in, like a high dive at a swimming pool?”
“No, baby. It’s very dangerous this high up the mountain. That’s why they have safety fencing at all the viewpoints, to remind people to stay back from the edge.”
“Hmmm. Daddy?”
“Yes, pumpkin.”
“Do fish jump off the waterfall, or do they know to turn around before it’s too late?”
“I don’t know. That’s a good question.”
“I bet the fish don’t jump. I bet they leap from the top and fly, just like you do when you surf.”
“Surfing does feel like flying sometimes.”
“Teach me to fly, Daddy. I want to fly across the waves just like you.”
“Okay, sweetheart. We’ll go flying on the waves real soon, I promise.”
I never got to teach Evie how to surf that summer.
But I did get to see her blow out the eight pink candles on her chocolate birthday cake, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
I watched as she tore into her presents from her mom and me, her eyes lighting up when she found her favorite: a blue-and-purple butterfly twirl dress with wings.
She wore that dress for days, running barefoot through the surrounding woods, her laughter like wind chimes, spinning and twirling, convinced she was a butterfly dancing in a garden.
And then a fairy, fearless, soaring through the sky.
Now when I think of her, I imagine her somewhere wondrous, wrapped in warmth and light, free to spread her angel wings and fly forever.
Two years have passed since that hike with Evie. I blink several times, the memory of her on this trail disappearing in a wisp of fairy dust, Keri’s voice bringing me back to the present.
“Oh, Adam, look! Look at all the beautiful flowers!”
Leave it to Keri to find beauty in devastation.
She points to wildflowers along our route, adding color to the recovering landscape.
She oohs and ahhs at every turn, admiring it all.
She doesn’t know what this terrain looked like before the fires, or what awaits at the sturdy observation deck ahead with panoramic waterfall views.
While the falls impress year-round, our visit coincides with peak snowmelt when they’re most powerful.
Though the loop has been strenuous at times, I’m amazed at Keri’s stamina and glad to show her one of Northern California’s best waterfalls.
I’m grateful my cousin Roxy suggested it.
“Keep going. We’re almost there,” I say, encouraging her around the last bend in the trail.
We stand next to each other on the observation platform of Feather Falls, both of us rewarded by our hiking efforts with the awe-inspiring view.
Gazing directly down at the six-hundred-plus cascade of water plummeting over sheer granite to the valley below, I can feel the thunder of water reverberate in my chest. The views are incredible, but I know of another short trail that leads to the very edge of the falls.
I grab Keri by the hand. “Come on. Let’s keep going. This path leads to an even more dramatic viewpoint.”
We carefully navigate the smaller trail, being sure not to venture into the stream that could potentially sweep us over the edge. I’m glad we’re the only adventurous hikers off the beaten path and thrilled to show Keri why this place has always been so special to me.
“Wow,” she stutters, coming to a halt. Her mouth gapes, and her blue eyes are wide with wonder, taking it all in.
I breathe in the scent of pine and earth as tiny droplets of water spray fill the air. I point to the muted colors of a rainbow forming in the mist.
“It’s so beautiful,” Keri gushes.
I’m filled with awe and peace. But I also feel small and vulnerable in this vast world.
Roxy and Jason encouraged us to stay at the beach house after their wedding.
I hesitated about an extended stay, but now I’m glad we didn’t return to Georgia so soon.
I lift my camera and capture the magnificent view, wishing I could preserve the beauty and wonder in a single snapshot.
“I have an idea, Adam.”
I turn and watch Keri as she shrugs off her backpack near a sturdy tree and unzips it with ease. Reaching inside, I’m shocked when she pulls out a familiar cerulean fabric and unfurls it from a tightly wound-up ball. I realize it’s her pageant gown from the night before.
“I know I’m not all made up for a photo shoot in a long gown, but I think you’ll understand once we get into it. This could be a really cool shot.”
I’m confused and a little worried that she’s trying to change clothes on the side of the mountain. “Why in the world would you bring your gown on our hike?”
She tosses her sweaty tee at me, and it lands across my face. I pull it off and watch as she effortlessly lifts the dress over her head and across her sports bra. She leaves her shorts and hiking shoes on underneath.
“After your talk with Dan Combs last night, I had an idea. If Mrs. Dirk thinks my gown is designer, maybe others will too.”
“What are you talking about?” I hold out my hand and help her across the uneven path, her gown swishing with the movement.
Our faces are mere inches apart, hers flushed from exertion, and her forehead peppered with perspiration.
The dress is wrinkled, and she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup.
She takes the tie from her ponytail and shakes her long blonde hair loose, all the while her beaming smile spreading with certainty across her flawless face.
To see her standing before me in her beautiful gown with the waterfall in the background leaves me gobsmacked.
“Photograph me, Adam.”
Her words are breathy, tinged with desire. It suddenly dawns on me what she’s doing. My breath backs up into my lungs, and I instantly reach for my camera.
She mimics a few poses before facing the waterfall with her back to me, opening her arms wide. “High fashion meets Mother Nature.”
My nod is eager, my trigger finger firing at gorgeous images of Keri in her blue gown, the falls a spectacular backdrop.
I coach her; she follows easily. She’s a natural, and much more beautiful than any over-priced supermodel I’ve photographed.
Her gentle spirit sparks my faith in dreams that others, like Dan, can’t see.
Here, on a mountainside in a hand-sewn, blue gown from her grandmother, she shows me what love is made of.
She wants me happy, and I want to be a boyfriend she’s proud of. One she never has to worry about.
“Atta girl, you’re incredible. I can’t even get over how beautiful these pictures are going to be.”
After several minutes with my entire focus on Keri in her gown, I realize I’m in my element.
No matter how I feel or how my world gets rocked, when I take my camera and pay close enough attention, I’m able to uncover the remarkable beauty hidden in plain sight.
I want to hold on to this moment, my painful memories flying over the falls’ precipice like Evie in her butterfly costume.
Bits of fairy dust and water spray sprinkling over our heads.
“Can I see?” She lifts the edges of her gown, carefully crossing the uneven terrain toward me. I reach for her hand, and she grasps it. Hooking her arm around my waist, she tilts her head to get a better look at my camera screen. “Oh, wow,” she whispers.
I scroll through each pose. “There’s not a bad one in the bunch.”
“I especially like the ones where I’m looking out over the water with my arms relaxed at my sides, don’t you?”
I can’t help but grin. The girl has a great eye. “It’s very moving. It makes the observer want to know what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling in the moment.”
She laughs. “I was feeling a little nervous being so close to the edge. But also feeling excited about the potential for more.”
“More what?” I ask.
“More photos.” She takes a step back with confidence.
“Adam, don’t you see? I have at least twenty different gowns stored in bins back in Heartsboro.
How much fun could we have with this? We could go on a road trip and take pictures of me wearing dresses at different locations.
At different national parks. Small towns and big cities.
The beach and the desert. The Jamison lavender farm.
Hey, I even know of a Christmas tree farm and winery that’s gorgeous and only a couple of hours from Heartsboro. ”
She’s on a roll, her gumption adorable.
“Adam, I know my pageant dresses are not high fashion. But you should have heard Mrs. Dirk at the wedding. She went on and on about my dress, believing it was a vintage Oscar de la Renta. Can you believe it? An Oscar de la Renta!”
We’re both laughing, and I can’t help but shake my head. This beautiful creature standing before me in her wrinkled cerulean dress has come up with a plan. And it’s a good one.
“Come here.” I reach for her and pull her by her fingers into my arms. She rests her chin on my chest and smiles looking up at me, her arms wrapped around my waist.
“So you like this idea?” Hope glimmers in her eyes.
“I love this idea. I think we should do it.”
“You do?”
I nod. “I do. It’s unique, blending two stories. People love a good story.”
She nods with enthusiasm. “We could do a gallery tour and show off your photos and my grandmother’s dresses on mannequins. We could start a YouTube channel and talk on podcasts. We could combine our talents and just go for it.”
“Go for it?”
“Yes. Why not? We have nothing to lose.”
“Good point.”
“And I have a name for it too.”
“Of course you do,” I chuckle. “Lay it on me, Angel Face.”
She flicks my hair and can barely get her words out without giggling. “Beauty and the Beast.”
“Hey, now… wait a minute,” I guffaw. I grip her chin and lean down to kiss her hard on the mouth, the roaring in my ears more than just the waterfall.
I’m captivated by her enthusiasm and her smile.
Desperate to learn all the little isms about her.
I want to know her deepest desires. If her goose-honk laugh will make an appearance after her infectious giggles, or if it happens out of the blue.
If she craves salsa and pink cake like me.
I want my hands in her hair and my mouth on her lips.
I have visions of us together, forever. I realize I’m not standing at the edge of Feather Falls. I’m all the way over it.
Somewhere between the winding highways and the unexpected moments of shared joy, I’m beginning to realize this road we’ve ended up on together might be the way home.