Pause

Lindsey decides to take a detour through the county farmland to enjoy the end of summer lull. The river meanders, muddy brown and serene, through the valley patchwork of golden shorn fields, vine maples along its banks already edging into fall crimson. Dark blue mountains in the distance etch sharp lines against the lighter blue sky flushed by rain of its August haze. Higher peaks still retain melting snowcaps dazzling white in the sunlight.

The openness of landscape broadens her thinking as she mulls over the Kwamish tribal project she and Damon have been focused on for the past month. The first goal is to “take the temperature of the tribe” about the contentious fishing and whaling rights issues and more. Can they visualize a convergence between preserving traditional ways and new environmental concerns? They’ve been gathering data, creating vision pieces, consulting with Lindsey’s friend Ayako and setting a fast-upcoming date for a “circularity” meeting with the tribe to get people talking.

Lindsey’s old high school pal, who squeaks in at 4 feet 11 if she stands tall, has always been a dynamo. And she’s found her niche, facilitating open forums for communication, working a lot with the tribes.

“Hey,” she’s told Lindsey, “I kind of sneak in under their radar. They start out ready to resist some honky giving them advice, and here I come in all petite and Japanese, kind of look like them or at least on their side of the non-Anglo fence. So then I just have to open it up and let them see we can all listen to each other.”

As Lindsey’s been working with Ayako, Damon’s been busy collecting state and federal grant-proposal possibilities. She’s glad for the business focus, moving on from Newman. And Damon’s been a bit more reserved, not pushing any overtures or touches. Maybe he’s succumbed to the bubbly charms of the new intern? Or maybe he’s just giving Lindsey the space she asked for.

But today they’re taking a break from the project to fill a gap in The Weekly Whiplash production with a quick piece on Lindsey’s native-plant restoration project in her creek ravine. He’s coming by to take photos.

She pulls into her drive and sees his car already there.

“Damon?”

No answer, so she heads for the back yard. She finds him sitting crosslegged in the grass at the edge of the creek ravine, beneath the soaring green umbrella of the venerable big-leaf maple tree. Sombra is nestled in his lap, eyes closed as he pets her.

Damon looks up then and sees Lindsey. A slow smile warms his face as he continues stroking the black cat.

“Wow, that’s amazing.” Lindsey steps quietly closer, and the normally skittish cat doesn’t stir. “She’s been terrified of men, ever since Nick. I can’t believe she didn’t run and hide.”

“I told her she’s a beautiful warrior princess, and she liked it.” His smile widens into a grin. “What’s her name?”

“Sombra.”

“Shadow girl. Okay, Sombra, we have work to do.” He gently shifts her aside and rises.