Descension (8 page)

Signs advertising the Columbia Gorge Scenic Highway came into view, and Layla glanced at the clock—shortly after five. According to research, she’d lose the light around seven, which meant she had plenty of time to take the detour.

The diversion turned out to be one of the best decisions of her life.

The historic route scaled the cliff—narrow, curvy and shadowed by immense trees that looked skinny, but only because their majestic height gave the optical illusion. Dogwoods and oaks that Layla would have considered large in Gander Creek were dwarfed in the gorge, looking more like brush than trees.

Right beyond the timber—dark, mossy and moist—towered layers of volcanic rock. Once in a while the road opened to picnic areas, affording views of slender waterfalls trickling down the cliff face, but Layla bypassed them, knowing Oregon’s tallest waterfall was around a few more bends.

She reached Multnomah Falls about an hour before sunset, ignoring her bubbling anticipation long enough to organize the backpack she carried in lieu of a purse. After double-checking she had her camera and keys, she walked to the visitor’s center and purchased a day pass to the state parks.

Well worth it, she decided, finally approaching the pool at the bottom of the two-tiered waterfall. High above her, a bridge spanned the bottom half of the cascades, boasting a much more enticing view, so Layla snapped a few pictures of the pool then hiked up the cliff, patiently navigating through tourists to claim a prime spot on the catwalk.

Awe-inspiring in its uncontrived glory, the falls sprung from the depths of Larch Mountain and powerfully rushed down its basalt cliff face, casting a cool mist that moistened Layla’s cheeks. She watched for a long time, reveling in its raw force. Then she closed her eyes, blocked out the tourists’ chatter, and listened to the roar.

A peaceful moment, to imagine being the only human presence among untamed nature, but Katherine’s aching absence kept it from being perfect. Every step Layla took toward the west coast felt like a step away from the woman who’d inspired her to make the journey, like she was forsaking her old life for a new one that no longer included Katherine.

Layla shook the sad musing from her head and opened her eyes, snapping several picky pictures of the falls. Then she returned to the gift shop, loading up on postcards for Travis and Phyllis. As she walked to her car, she stared at a post card featuring her next destination—the Crown Point Vista House.

By the time she reached the observatory, the sun was melting into the western skyline, casting half of the octagonal Vista House in bright orange light. The two-story building was beautiful, with stained glass windows and a domed roof, but the panoramic view of the gorge was better. Across the river, the Cascade Range rose into orange-vanilla clouds, and the water below couldn’t decide if it wanted to reflect the sunburst on the horizon or the inky blue twilight flowing from the east.

Layla snapped more pictures, knowing her mediocre camera would never do the view justice. Then she climbed into her car once more, pleased by her impeccable timing. She and Travis couldn’t have planned her trip across Oregon better.

By the time she refueled and entered Portland, the skies were bereft of sunlight, a medley of dark blues and purples, and she was a nervous wreck as she followed her memorized directions. She did her best to maintain the speed limit, yet other cars flew by like she was riding her brakes. She almost missed her exit to Morrison Bridge—one of eleven spanning the Willamette River—and had to cut someone off.

“Whoops.”

She winced and glanced in the rearview mirror. The driver was undoubtedly pissed, but everyone drove bumper to bumper and zipped across lanes of traffic, so Layla easily forgave herself the goof.

After crossing the river, it was a straight shot to her downtown hotel, and she breathed easy for the first time since entering the city, but when she circled the block to find the parking garage, she found it full.

“Now what?” she mumbled, circling the block again.

Crowds of pedestrians, zooming bicycles, and colorful streetcars simultaneously intrigued and disoriented her, and it had started misting, turning everything into a grayish blur that glaringly reflected the city lights.

Layla drove to the next block, then the next. Then she followed the one-way streets back around, finding another full parking garage.

“What’s wrong with you people?” she grumbled. “Don’t you know it’s a weeknight?” Apparently they didn’t care, because there wasn’t one parking spot within three blocks of her hotel.

She expanded her search, steadily moving further away from where she wanted to be. By the time she found a parking garage willing to take her, she’d lost count of how many blocks she’d gone.

She couldn’t scramble out of her seat fast enough once she cut the engine. The damn car felt like a spaceship manned by foreigners who didn’t believe in two-way streets.

She opened her trunk, laying eyes on the large suitcase she’d packed for the hotel, and her shoulders sagged. “No way,” she decided, stuffing one day’s worth of clothes in her backpack.

After slipping on a hoody, she slung the pack over her shoulder and marched into the rain, which was colder than she thought it would be.

Five Portland blocks felt like ten Gander Creek blocks, and her fingers were going numb, but she was sure the hotel was around the next corner. When she took a left and looked up, finding a clothing store where her hotel should be, her heart sank and she spun around, clueless where she went wrong.

“Oh no,” she breathed, eyes stinging. “Oh shit.” She suddenly felt tiny and weak—a foolish fish swimming in a sea of sharks.

She dazedly noticed she was holding up foot traffic and moved beneath the boutique’s awning, blinking back tears as she dug her cell phone from her pocket. She could have asked one of the pedestrians for directions, but she was on the verge of bawling and didn’t want to do it to a stranger, so she dialed Travis’ number with fumbling fingers.

“Hello,” he answered, and Layla nearly sobbed his name.

“Travis.”

“Hey, sugar. What’s wrong?”

“I’m lost.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. That’s the point. I couldn’t find a place to park and had to drive forever down these damn one-way streets, and I thought I knew my way back to the hotel, but I get here and it’s clothes and I don’t know where I went wrong.”

“Layla,” Travis interrupted, “breathe.”

Layla obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut as she took a deep breath.

“So you’re somewhere near your hotel?” Travis asked.

Layla opened her eyes and looked around. “I think so.”

“That means ya made it,” Travis praised.

Layla rolled her eyes. “Yes. Now I’m lost in the rain.”

“Ya like the rain.”

“I do,” she whispered, “but it’s cold. Can you help me?”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he boasted. “Is there a coffee shop nearby?”

Layla furrowed her eyebrows as she looked down the block, finding a café across the street. “Yes!” she exclaimed, wondering how he’d found her so quickly.

“Good,” he approved. “Go get a cup of coffee while I wait for my laptop to boot up.”

Layla slouched. “I’m a mess, Travis.”

“Without coffee,” he countered, “yes ya are.”

Layla sighed and trudged to the café, answering Travis’ stream of questions about her trip.

“Then it’s as pretty as they say?” he asked.

“Prettier,” she confirmed. “Hold on. I’m going to order.”

Layla tucked her phone in her pocket as she ordered and paid, averting her teary gaze from the clerk. Then she returned the phone to her ear as she walked outside, sipping the hot brew. “You there, Trav?”

“Yep, and I got my computer goin’. What’s your cup say?”

Layla read him the name of the café then waited as he searched her out.

“You’re only a block away,” he said.

Layla’s held breath burst from her lungs. “Really? Which way?”

“South. Take a left outta the coffee shop.”

Layla turned and headed south. “You’re a lifesaver, Travis. You have no idea.”

“I’ll stick with ya in case I’m wrong,” he offered.

“Thank you,” she returned. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d look that café clerk in the eye and ask for directions.”

“Smartass,” Layla smirked, rounding another corner. “There it is! You found it!”

“Glad I could help.”

“You did, enormously. I was ready to jump in the car and backtrack to Oklahoma.”

“Don’t ya dare,” Travis objected. “Ya gotta give yourself more than one day. You’re gonna be great, Layla, once ya start figurin’ things out. Ya got more to offer than Gander Creek can hold. Give the coast a chance to bring out the best in ya.”

“
You
bring the best out in me,” Layla countered. “I’d literally be lost without you.”

“Then I’ll be your personal GPS. Just promise me you’ll give Oregon a fair chance. I’ll need a place to stay when I get there.”

“Right,” Layla laughed, knowing his encouragement had nothing to do with a place to stay and everything to do with his big heart.

She entered the lobby of her hotel and walked to a couch, peeling off her wet hoody as she finished her conversation. “I really do appreciate this, Travis. I’m warm and dry because of you.”

“Anytime. Now go stretch out in your comfy bed, ’cause I know your legs are cramped.”

“A little,” she confessed. “Keep your phone handy tomorrow. I’ll probably get lost again.”

“I’ll be sure to do that. Sleep tight, sugar.”

“You, too, Trav. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Layla hung up and stared at the phone, wishing she could show Travis how much he meant to her, but she’d missed her chance to be the friend he deserved. Now all she had was long-distance words.

Exhausted, she followed Travis’ advice and stretched out in bed as soon as she got to her room, lazily wiggling out of her damp jeans. After throwing them in a corner, she reached over the side of the bed and pulled two photographs from her backpack.

For a long moment she stared at the one of her and Katherine, wishing she was there. Then she stared at the picture of her birth parents, wondering why they were never there.

When her eyelids grew wet and heavy, Layla tucked the photos under her pillow and turned off the lamp, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.

~ * * * ~

Layla took her time getting out of bed Friday morning, but once up, she didn’t lounge around. After taking a hot shower and dressing in comfortable layers, she shoved her dirty clothes in her backpack so she’d remember to transfer them to her laundry bag. Then she left the room empty, hoping she’d find a closer parking spot the next time she returned.

Bypassing the coffeepot in the lobby, she headed for the café she’d visited the night before, unwilling to gamble on something as vital as quality coffee. Supposedly the best brew in the world was about an hour away, but she refused to make the drive to Cannon Beach without a jolt of caffeine. Besides, she wanted to get more familiar with the area around her hotel before venturing too far away from it.

So that’s what she did. All afternoon she wandered from block to block, memorizing business names, street names, and most importantly, parking garage locations. Though she was busy learning, she kept her pace slow so it wouldn’t feel like work, taking time to window shop, people watch, and park hop; and she found a stationary store where she could mail out Travis’ and Phyllis’ postcards. When her stomach started growling, she got a pamphlet from a real estate office and searched out a casual restaurant, looking over local listings as she ate.

She spotted a few properties in Cannon Beach—gorgeous photographs included—and suddenly yearned to see it in person, to sip the best coffee in the world as she walked beside the ocean.

“Would you like a to-go box?” the waitress asked, snapping Layla out of her daydream.

“Um… no thanks,” she answered, jittery with unexplained urgency. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Four-thirty,” the woman answered.

Layla’s mouth fell open. She had no idea she’d been wandering the streets that long. She quickly stood, digging a tip from her pocket. “Do you know how to get to Cannon Beach from here?”

“Sure,” the waitress answered, pulling a notepad from her apron. “You’ll want the Sunset Highway.” She jotted down a few directions then handed them over. “Is that understandable?”

Layla scanned the paper then looked south. “That way?”

“Right,” the waitress confirmed. “Follow the Oregon Zoo and Beaverton signs if you get confused. You’ll pass them on your way out of town.”

“Thanks,” Layla returned, grabbing her backpack. Then she headed for her car, determined to reach the coast before nightfall.

As she navigated her way out of Portland, bypassing the zoo and a few city suburbs, she wondered if
Cinnia’s Cannon Café
would still be there. Any number of things could have happened in the past twenty-one years—demolition, foreclosure, takeovers. It could be a
Starbucks
by now. She told herself she didn’t care as long as there was decent coffee, but she knew it was a big, fat lie. She couldn’t deny her deep desire to see where her mom and dad had once sat drinking their favorite brew. When she wondered what they liked in their coffee, she cursed and turned up the radio.