less than half Joeys weight, she could not have been lifted out of the chair, against her 
will, even if he'd brought with him a power winch and the will to use it. In any 
confrontation with Aggie, Joey was always Samson shorn, never Samson pre-haircut.
  
  With a glower that would have convinced a rattlesnake to uncoil and lie as supine an 
earthworm, Joey said, "Please?"
  
  "I have pie notes to write, so Edom can make deliveries for me in the morning."
  ... There's only one delivery I'm worried about."
  "Well, I'm worried about seven. Six pies and one baby."
  "You and your pies," He said with frustration.
  
  "You and your worrying," She countered, favoring him with a smile that affected his 
heart as sun did butter.
  He sighed. "The notes, and then we go."
  ... Pie notes. Then Maria comes for her English lesson. And then we go."
  "You're in no condition to give an English lesson."
  "Teaching English doesn't require heavy lifting, dear."
  
  She did not pause in her note writing when she spoke to him, and he watched the 
elegantly formed script stream from the tip of- her ballpoint pen as though she were but 
a conduit that carried the words from a higher source.
  
  Finally, Joey leaned across the table, and Aggie looked at him through the great silent 
fall of his shadow, her green eyes shining III the shade that he cast. He lowered his 
raw-granite face to her porcelain features, and as if yearning to be shattered, she 
raised up slightly to meet his kiss.
  "I love you, is all," he said, and the helplessness in his voice exasperated him.
  "Is all?" She kissed him again. "Is everything."
  "So what do I do to keep from going crazy?"
  The doorbell rang.
  "Answer that," she suggested.
  
  Chapter 3
  THE PRIMEVAL FORESTS of the Oregon coast raised a great green cathedral across the 
hills, and the land was as hushed as any place of worship I High above, glimpsed between 
the emerald spires, a hawk glided in a widening gyre, dark-feathered angel with a taste 
for blood.
  Here at ground level, no wildlife stirred, and the momentous day was breathless. 
Luminous veils of fog still lay motionless in the deeper hollows, where the departed 
night had discarded them. The only sounds were the Crunch of crisp evergreen needles 
underfoot and the rhythmic breathing of experienced hikers.
  At nine o'clock that morning, Junior Cain and his bride, Naomi, had parked their Chevy 
Suburban along an unpaved fire road and headed north on foot, along deer trails and other 
natural pathways, into this shadowy vastness. Even by noon, the sun penetrated only in 
narrow shafts that brightened most of the woods by indirection.
  When Junior was in the lead, he occasionally drew far enough of Naomi to pause and turn 
and watch her as she approached him. I Her golden hair shimmered always bright, in 
sunshine or shadow, and her face was that perfection of which adolescent boys dreamed, 
for which grown men sacrificed honor and surrendered fortune. Sometimes, Naomi led; 
following her, Junior was so enraptured by her lithe form that he was aware of little 
else, oblivious of the green vaults, the columnar trunks, the lush ferns, and the 
flourishing rhododendrons.
  Although Naomi's beauty might alone have captured his heart, he was equally enchanted 
by her grace, her agility, her strength, and by the determination with which she 
conquered the steepest slopes and the most forbiddingly stony terrain. She approached all 
of life--not just hiking-with enthusiasm passion, intelligence, courage.
  They had been married fourteen months, yet dally his love grew stronger. He was only 
twenty-three, and sometimes it seemed that one day his heart would be too small to 
contain his feelings for her.
  Other men had pursued Naomi, some better looking than Junior, many smarter, virtually 
all of them richer. Yet Naomi had wanted only him, not for what he owned or might one day 
acquire, but because she claimed to see in him "a shining soul."
  Junior was a physical therapist, and a good one, working mostly with accident and 
stroke victims who were struggling to regain lost physical function. He would never lack 
for meaningful work, but he would never own a mansion on a hill.
  Fortunately, Naomi's tastes were simple. She preferred beer to champagne, shunned 
diamonds and didn't care if she ever saw Parts. She loved nature, walks in the rain, the 
beach, and good books.
  Hiking, she often sang softly when the trail was easy. Two of her favorite tunes were 
"Somewhere over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World." I Her voice was as pure as 
spring water and as warm its sunshine. Junior often encouraged her to sing, for in her 
song he heard a love of life and an infectious joy that lifted him.
  Because this January day was unseasonably warm in the sixties, and because they were 
too close to the coast to be in the snow zone at any altitude, they wore shorts and 
T-shirts. The pleasant heat of exertion, the sweet ache of well-tested muscles the forest 
air scented with pine, the tautness and grace of Naomi's bare legs, her sweet song: This 
was what paradise might be like if paradise existed.
  On a day hike, not intending to camp overnight, they carried light packs-a first-aid 
kit, drinking water, lunch-and thus made good time. Shortly after noon, they came to a 
narrow break in the forest and stepped onto the final coil of the serpentine fire road, 
which had arrived at this point by a route different front theirs. They followed the dirt 
track to the summit, where it terminated at a fire tower that was indicated oil their map 
by a red triangle.
  The tower stood on a broad ridge line: a formidable structure of creosote-soaked 
timbers, forty feet on a side at the base. The tower tapered as it rose, though an open 
view deck flared out from the top. Ill the center of the deck was an enclosed observation 
post with large windows.
  The sod was stony and alkaline here, so tile most Impressive trees were only a hundred 
feet tall, little more than half the size of many of the rain-forest behemoths that 
thrived on lower slopes. At 150 feet, the tower rose high above them.
  The switchback stairs were in the center of the open framework, rising under the tower 
rather than circling the exterior. Aside from a few sagging treads and loose balusters, 
the staircase was in good condition, yet Junior became uneasy when he was just two 
flights off the ground. He wasn't able to pinpoint the cause of his concern, but instinct 
told him to be wary.
  Because the autumn and winter had been rainy, the fire danger was low, and the tower 
was not currently manned. In addition to its more serious function, the structure also 
served as an observation platform open to any of the public determined enough to reach it.
  The steps creaked. Their footfalls echoed hollowly through this half-enclosed space, as