The Teacher and the Tree Man

BOOK 1

Chapter 1: A Lovely Day Gone Funny

Paul Lucas pulled up to the stop sign, looked out his window and couldn’t believe his eyes: The ancient trees that had been sentries guarding the countryside from his ever-growing western Washington foothill town were gone. Here on his morning commute, gone this afternoon on the way home. Just gone. And to top it off, they’d been replaced by a large, obnoxious signboard—Burger King Coming Soon!

Bastards, Lucas cursed under his breath.

The town of Lincolnton sat on the outer edges of the Puget Sound megalopolis so Lucas knew it would sprawl with or without his permission. Instead of letting his mind drift too far down that path, he re-focused his attention out his open driver side window into the sky, wondering if the weather would hold for another adventure into the forest behind his house. Unfortunately, a sperm-whale-shaped cloud was swallowing the sun and his enthusiasm for a forest trip began to deflate.

Frustrated, he punched on the gas and—

What the hell???

—out of nowhere—from behind the sign?—a pony-tailed little girl on a bike with purple streamers darted in front of him. He slammed on his brakes, felt his seatbelt bite into his collarbone and watched as his car lurched to a stop just inches away from her oblivious, peddling self.

Goddamn it! he said a little louder than he’d meant to. He hoped no one had heard him through his window.

Quickly, the father and elementary school teacher in him compelled him to check if the girl was okay and he felt his heartbeat slow a tiny bit when he saw her peddling away down the street.

"Please be careful! he yelled out the window after the girl. You’ll kill yourself!"

A car honked from behind him.

Lucas didn’t respond. Instead, he took a big gulp of the strawberry milkshake he was holding and regretted that it didn’t taste nearly as good as it had before the near-accident. He had been savoring the shake because he’d bought it to celebrate a special occasion: for the first time in his short career, he’d been named the Rainier View Elementary School Teacher of the Year.

The award confirmed that he’d made the right choice to settle down and become a teacher. If someone had told 25-year-old Paul Lucas that five years later he’d be awarded for teaching, he would have laughed, called them crazy and asked them to share what they were smoking. But that was before he’d started a family with Teri and his lovely daughter, Scarlet.

The car honked again.

Blow yourself, he muttered. He was not sure he wanted to get moving again. Who knew what could next appear out of thin air from behind that stupid sign? Again, the car’s horn blared.

Oh, all right already! he said, biting his lip.

His heart still racing as he began to drive, he made the decision: despite the graying sky he had to go into the forest. It was the only way he was going to defeat the stress of the near-accident. Besides, it wasn’t like western Washington was blessed with sunshine. For a nature lover like Lucas, you simply had to accept that most of your forays outdoors were going to be cloudy ones. The decision relaxed him some, but when he pulled into his driveway he was still shaken.

What in the world would have happened if I’d hit her?, he thought. Instantly, he thought of his seven-year-old daughter. All dimples and pigtails, Scarlet was a dream made in heaven. He felt the wind sail out of him as he considered what it would be like to have to tell another father that he had run down his little girl. I could have killed her, and then what?

He just knew the whole thing would have snowballed, and he imagined the headline: Fourth Grade Teacher Runs Down Future Student. The scandal-loving reporters at The Tacoma Post would probably get hold of the Rainier View yearbook and find that one silly shot of him making a mad-scientist face at the science fair. After he saw that photo, he vowed he would never again be so careless when people with cameras were around. Yes, that would have been just like the Post to run that photo with the story, thus proving his guilt. Once a journalist, Lucas was disgusted with news outlets in the corporate, mainstream media like the Post. More and more, they dripped with sensationalism at the cost of humanity.

He entered his house and went straight to the cupboard in his kitchen where he kept a few bottles of alcohol. He regretted that he didn’t have any marijuana, as not only did it work better for him than alcohol, it had less negative aftereffects. But he’d made a vow to his wife when they’d married five years ago to give up that vice because they didn’t want to run afoul of the law, nor did he want to do anything that might threaten his career. So instead, he poured himself a shot out of an almost full bottle of Wild Turkey whiskey, threw down the sickly sweet, burning liquid and shuddered.

Eeeooh, he shouted, wincing as the warm pain spread from his mouth to his stomach. He shuddered again.

Now I know why I don’t do that very often, he thought and smiled. I can’t believe that little girl! She wasn’t even aware that I almost ran her over.

He shook his head sadly and felt the whiskey attempt to sooth his nerves. His hands were still shaking and his heartbeat had only quieted a little. It hadn’t been enough.

He looked out the kitchen window into his backyard. Beyond the swaying bird feeder, the darkening woods beckoned. A breeze blew through the twin birch trees that stood at the edge of his yard, shimmering the leaves. It was time to take a walk in the magical forest.

---

Ever since his family had moved to Lincolnton four years ago in the summer of 1997, Lucas had found solace in his corner of the Roosevelt Forest Preserve. It was his retreat from a modern world that he found increasingly disconnected from the things that both mattered and were enjoyable about life.

The area where Lucas spent most of his time was the edge of an old-growth forest that rested in a wide, tree-covered canyon with a small creek running through its bottom. After leaving the canyon, the creek veered and formed a border for a large meadow that ran all the way to a highway two miles away.

The creek bounded playfully through the canyon, curving around and over the moss-covered tree roots of giant Douglas fir and Western hemlock trees that stretched toward the heavens. The roots were home to many life forms and Lucas was always fascinated by how the forest interacted on so many levels.

When he wasn't observing the forest, he was finding beautiful spots to enjoy. There was the beaver dam in the creek, the grove of particularly large Douglas firs, or the look-out that offered a view of Lincolnton and the Puget Sound Basin in the distance. All of these were spots he wanted to be able to reach easily. But the forest was so dense with underbrush from the constant Pacific Northwest moisture that it was rarely used by humans. Lucas had spent long hours cutting at the underbrush with a machete, which relaxed him and created a satisfying sense of accomplishment.

He entered his garage, grabbed the machete from its case under his workbench and set out into his backyard, crossing under two birch trees that had grown together like an X and emerging on a grassy path. Straight ahead of him the top of a steep cliff marked the edge of the canyon, so he had to turn and walk a few hundred feet along the path to where the canyon sloped more gradually. A long wooden fence ran the length of the trail, apparently protecting a recently built subdivision of formulaic houses from the wilds of Nature. Lucas hated these houses, how they were all the same shape and color (drab gray, drab tan or drab white—you choose!), how they sacrificed uniqueness and character, and how they reinforced the notion of a mechanical, non-creative universe. Both Teri and Lucas often defended their decision to purchase a pea-green house that had been built in the 1970s and the more they did so, the better they felt about their choice. Lucas could conform some, but he never understood the need to do so when it came to one's house.

After a few minutes, the path turned into an often-muddy-but-dry-today trail that zigzagged down the slope of the canyon beneath a canopy of towering trees. As soon as Lucas felt surrounded by these ancient life forms, he began to feel a loosening of his still-tense body.

Ah, the magical, enchanted forest, he thought and grinned. You just can't get this feeling anywhere else.

His pace was slow as he descended into the canyon. Not only did the forest relax Lucas physically, being immersed in it and away from the watchful eyes of other people gave him a chance to completely be himself. Unlike his life outside of the forest, a life where he had to be on his best behavior as a role model to his students, here he need not worry.

As he walked down the trail, he found himself whistling a tune he’d made up on previous visits and he stopped here and there to slash some overgrown bracken and blackberry bushes. It was strenuous work and the time passed quickly. After he worked up a solid sweat, he gave himself a respite from the machete work, only occasionally pausing to cut an offending branch from hanging too far into one of his trails. Ahead of him near the bottom of the canyon and not far from the creek, which he could hear singing now, a tiny sunbeam lit up part of a mossy log and Lucas took the opportunity to sit in it and catch his breath. The beam kept him warm and the soothing forest air refreshed his senses.

He took some deep breaths and closed his eyes for several seconds until he felt fully relaxed. When he opened his eyes, a doe was no more than 30 feet from him, near the edge of the creek and apparently looking for food.

Lucas didn't move, hoping not to upset the deer. Suddenly it looked up and Lucas couldn't quite believe his eyes; it seemed as though she gave a quick nod of her head—follow me!—toward the other side of the creek. Without thinking, he stood up and walked toward the deer, which then hopped across the creek.

Lucas had to make a decision. There was no way he could keep up with this deer and carry his machete at the same time. So he quickly concealed it behind a row of blackberry bushes. When he looked up, the deer was so far ahead of him he feared he'd lost her. But Lucas was a swift runner and the deer almost seemed like it had slowed down to wait for him so he had no trouble catching up. Once he did she ran quickly, underneath tree branches, around clumps of sticker bushes, over mossy logs, and it almost seemed to Lucas like they were going in circles. He wished he could tell the deer to slow down and give him a chance to catch his breath and find his bearings, but the deer kept moving and so did he. At last, the deer had a sudden burst of speed around a tall growth of bracken and when Lucas ran around the bracken, the deer had disappeared. He could have killed her!

Panting, he thought, Why did I bother doing that? I'm tired and lost and for what?

Woooooooeeeeeeeeeoooooooooaaaaaa!

Lucas jumped. What in God's name was that?

Ooooooo-aaaaaaaaaaaa-uuuuuuu-iiiiiiiii-eeeeeeeee!!

It was horrible whatever it was. It was coming from his left and in front of him, maybe 400 feet or so.

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiigaaaaaaroooo, fiiiiiiiiiiigaaaaarooooo!

It's some crazy, demented opera singer! He wasn't so sure he wanted to find out if he was correct, yet his feet began to pull him to the place his brain was telling him not to go. The sound was coming from deeper in the woods and the only way through appeared to be concealed by a row of hemlock saplings.

Mmmaaaaaaaaammaaaaaa mmiiiiiiaaaaaaa, mama mia!

Lucas jumped again. Normally, he wouldn't cut through a small grove of saplings because he didn’t want to hurt them, but this time he felt he had no choice. Whatever the thing was, Lucas had to satisfy his curiosity. He walked as quickly as possible, blowing off spider webs and making sure not to tumble on the soft, mossy ground, which sometimes gave way like mellow quicksand.

Oooooppppi, dooooopelli, oooopelli!

Lucas had never heard anything like it. It didn't sound entirely human, but he still thought it was coming from a man. Louder now, Lucas could tell he was near. Still, he couldn't see anything. Just the same pattern of hemlocks, Douglas firs, fallen logs, ferns and pine needles. Finally, he broke through a row of sword ferns and into a small clearing. And there in front of him, about ten feet up a towering Douglas fir, he confronted the most shocking and mind-blowing thing he'd ever seen. It was a man’s head stuck in the side of a tree.

1

Chapter 2: A Freak Encounter

But it wasn't exactly a man's head. Instead, the head seemed to be a part of the tree so that there was not hair but bark, not eyes but dark knots, not a nose or a chin but impressions, and not a mouth but a large, black hole in the bark. And out of the hole whipped a long tongue, stretching to a branch directly above it to grab a large beetle, which it then curled back into its mouth and crunched with delight.

Lucas stood, transfixed and slightly grossed out.

Are … are … you … you … okay? he asked the thing.

It didn't answer.

Of course. You can't talk, what was I thinking? Lucas said.

He looked at the forest floor and shuffled his feet, wondering what to do. It was starting to get dark; he had to get a move on. Suddenly, an earthy voice said, I can talk. I just don't quite know how to answer your question.

Lucas jumped. My … question?

Yeah, you know, the 'Are you okay?' question. There's only two apparent ways to answer—yes or no—but countless ways to justify each answer.

Lucas looked at this oddity. It was talking out of its mouth and seemed to have the facial expressions of a human, but it was anything but.

But I heard you yelling, Lucas said. That was … you … wasn't it? Not something else?

Oh, the thing said and laughed. That! That was just me stretching.

Stretching?

Yes, I have to keep my voice in shape or my vocal cords will freeze along with the rest of the unused parts of my body.

I don't understand, Lucas said.

Well, actually neither do I, said the creature. I've been out here a long time and there's a lot I'm still learning. But one of the things I do know is that the body parts I don't use, well, they just become a part of this here tree.

Lucas was silent. He didn't know what to say. What exactly do you say to a man stuck in the side of a tree, if you are able to speak at all?

You're stunned, aren't you? the thing said and then smiled. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened. Others come through here before and seen me, but they all leave without saying much. I guess my beauty is stunning.

The creature belted out a deep laugh, which rattled the earth under Lucas’s feet, causing him to fall on his butt.

Ow, Lucas said, getting up and brushing himself off.

Sorry 'bout that, the creature said and then let out something like a burp. I don't know what gets into me sometimes!

And he laughed again, knocking Lucas back on his duff.

Lucas jumped up, face flushed.

It's no wonder people leave here without coming back, Lucas said, spitting two pine needles out of his mouth.

I'm sorry, the creature said. Really, I am. It's just not very often anybody comes by and sticks around as long as you have. Aren't you scared?

Why should I be scared, you're just a head stuck in a tree, right? I mean, you can't do anything serious to harm me. Or … can you?

No, the thing said. I can't really harm you, nor do I have any desire to harm you. Why would I? You're the first conversation I've had in a while. It does get lonely out here sometimes.

How long have you been here?

That's another good question. I'm not sure, but I'm guessing six years. I know at least five, because that's when I started counting, he said and with his tongue, he pointed to a number of marks on the side of the branch above him. Made those with my tongue to keep track. Let me tell you, it wasn't easy!

Why did you do it, then?

Hey, I got nothing else to do, the creature said. Besides, I never let something that seems impossible stop me from trying. Never.

Not me, said Lucas. I've got enough to handle in my life without taking on extra responsibilities.

We are truly different, then, the thing said. Now, I must go.

And quite suddenly, the head somehow sucked itself into the tree, leaving only the slightest indication of its existence.

Lucas was stunned. How could that have happened? Did it just happen? Was he paying a price for indulging in exotic substances in his past?

No. It had happened. No doubt about it. There really was a head stuck inside that tree. Or was it a tree that had grown a man's head?

No, the thing had told him that some of his body parts had been frozen. It most certainly was a head inside a tree. Or maybe a man?

Lucas couldn't move. The light in the forest had dwindled and he didn't have a flashlight or any other illumination to guide him out, so he knew he had to act quickly.

Not quite sure what to do, he searched the pine-needle-covered forest floor for a rock of some size. He needed something big enough to mark a tree with so he’d be able to locate it when he came back. Finally, he looked under a musty sword fern and found a baseball-sized rock with one sharp edge. Lucas took the rock and carved a notch in the side of the tree next to the one where the head lived. He made two more notches above and below the first one and stepped back.

Yes, that should work, he thought.

He looked back toward the direction he came from. For some reason it seemed lighter and he ran toward the light. Before he knew it, he had found his machete behind the blackberry bushes near the bottom of the trail leading out of the canyon. Only a small sliver of light, probably coming from some of the houses at the top, burst through the ever-darkening forest and he set out quickly for it. Watching his step, he broke into a trot. Low branches brushed his face as he quickened his pace.

He didn't like racing out of the woods like this, but it was fall and the days were getting shorter, something he always regretted. It always took him at least the month of September to remember that it was no longer summer, and he could remember vivid arguments with Teri in previous falls when he had come home after dark while playing in the forest and the last thing he wanted was to have to put up with that side of Teri again. No, this summer had been almost fight-free and he certainly wasn't in the mood to break that string now.

In fact, as he reached the top of the canyon and quickly covered the grassy path, he couldn't describe the mood he was in at all. Besides the incident with the girl on the bike, his day had been going quite well when he'd entered the woods over an hour ago, but now he wasn't sure just where it was going and where it had been.

As he stumbled out into the welcome light of his backyard, he could only say one thing for certain: He was going to have to go back and find the head in the tree.

1

Chapter 3: An Accidental Argument

Lucas threw open the sliding back door and walked straight through the dark living room to the kitchen. He quickly opened the refrigerator, took out some orange juice and poured himself a glass in the dark, anxious to wet his parched throat.

The juice tasted wonderful and he considered how his quick walking had apparently caused him to beat the girls home. As he put the orange juice back, the refrigerator’s light revealed to Lucas that he was wrong: he was not alone. Teri was standing across the living room, and little Scarlet was clinging to Teri's leg, glancing out from under her mom's protective bulk with an expression of guilt and fear.

Oh hiya, sweethearts, Lucas proclaimed, smiling at the two loves of his life. Didn't see you there.

Well, maybe if you'd bothered to turn on the light before guzzling that orange juice, you would have noticed us, Teri said, surprising Lucas with the strength of her comments.

Yeah, maybe so, he said. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken that tone with him, so he was not sure what else to say.

Teri's expression softened a bit.

He closed the refrigerator and said, Anyway, honey, it's just, well … —he didn't want to say too much—I've had a weird afternoon.

Do you even know what time it is? she asked. He didn't answer. It's 8 o'clock and you're usually home by 6:30. I had dinner fixed but it's cold now.

Damn, he thought. There's no way it can be that late, can it? Maybe. It is sort of dark outside. Where did I lose the time?

Teri, perhaps I can explain, he said, pleading with his eyes, unsure how to proceed.

All right, I’m listening, she said.

You’re not going to believe it! he said, walking into the living room and sitting on the couch. I want you to sit down. It's that weird.

Teri stood her ground. I'm fine right here.

Her reaction hit him like a slap to the face. In general, Teri was a laid-back, friendly woman and an even better wife but like everyone, she had her shadow side and Lucas did everything he could to avoid bringing that side out in her.

No, never mind, he said. It wasn't that big of a deal, just a bit offsetting. We can talk about it later. I'm tired.

Fine, but that doesn't answer my question, Teri said. Why are you late? Do you have any idea what I've been going through here?

She gestured to Scarlet, who hung her head.

Lucas didn't respond. He could feel a rare Teri lecture coming and, after five years of marriage, he'd learned it was best to keep silent before the storm. And during it, for that matter.

Scarlet was knocked off her bike today up at that awful intersection, she said.

145th and Main?

Yeah, she said. What else is new? Aren't you going to ask if she's okay?

He didn’t think he needed to ask, since he could see her standing right there and she didn't look too shaken up. Are you okay, honey?

She’s not too bad, Teri said before Scarlet could answer.

This is amazing, Lucas said. I had a near wreck there today. He had an awful thought. Wait. What time did this happen?

Around 4:30.

Lucas let out his breath. Good.

Good?

No, of course not good, Lucas said. What I meant was that I almost hit a little girl there today, but that was just before 4.

You almost hit someone? Teri said.

Yeah, but it wasn't my fault, Lucas said. That intersection is blind, the way 145th curves up that hill it’s impossible to see cars—or bikes—from the left! It’s especially bad now because there is a stupid new Burger King signboard there. Have you seen it? It’s awful! Anyway, this little girl came out of nowhere right in front of me. She was lucky I was paying attention.

Paul, Teri said, you've always said that the intersection wasn't blind, that it was the driver's fault and now you are changing your tune.

Who was the teenager? Lucas asked.

Teenager?

Yeah, who hit Scarlet—

Are you listening to me? I didn’t say she was hit by a teenager or anybody else, Teri said. She was crossing that intersection when a car was going too fast and she fell from her bike.

Did they get his name?

No, Teri said. Not even sure it’s a he.

Or a teenager?

Doesn’t matter, Teri said. Anyway, as I was saying —she grabbed Scarlet's arm and lifted it up so Lucas could see the back of her bandaged elbow—she did take a pretty big fall. I had to leave work early and take her to the clinic because you weren't around. I thought we agreed that if you go out into the woods, you’ll bring your cell phone.

This was a point of contention. Lucas could very well understand the practical reasons for carrying his cell phone—reasons that were very clear that night. But he hated the idea that someone could, at any time, interrupt his relaxation time with a phone call that was probably not that important. Still, he said, Yeah, we agreed. I forgot. Sorry.

Well, it can’t be changed now, she said. But please, Paul, remember it, okay? It was not a good day for me to have to leave work early.

Why couldn't the daycare take her? he asked. And what was she doing riding by herself on that street anyway?

You know that crappy daycare wasn't about to take her into the clinic, she said. I'm at my wits end with them, I really am. I've been telling you for months that we need to get her into a new daycare, but that's not the point.

I know, he said, feeling guilty, but we've both been busy. Still, you didn't answer my question: Why was she riding by herself on that street?

Did I say she was by herself? I don't remember saying that, she said. She was with a group leader, some 14-year-old named Molly.

They shouldn't have been on that street, he said. Too dangerous.

For the first time in ages, Lucas felt the warm sensation of righteous anger, his blood starting to heat and his heart beating in his ears. It was a part of him that used to almost rule his life—he lost count how many temporary jobs he walked out on over his feeling that a company wasn’t being fair to its customers or employees, or how many protest rallies he’d attended to show his disgust with the various nefarious powerful forces in society. But since settling down in Lincolnton, he’d managed to suppress his righteousness, so he took a few deep breaths, hoping he could somehow quell the emotion that was about to send him into a rage.

I'm going to call someone on the city council tomorrow to voice my complaint, he said with quiet conviction.

Don't forget, okay? Teri said. It'd be nice if Scarlet was the last kid to get hurt up there.

Lucas got up and took Scarlet’s hand. He led her to the couch, sat her on his knee and brushed a bit of stringy brown hair out of her deep, hazel eyes. Is my Little Petunia o.k.?

Yes, daddy, she said, but didn't look him in the eye.

Paul? Teri said.

He looked up. Yes?

I think we should also do something about the daycare, Teri said.

Yes, Lucas said. We should. I'll handle it.

Teri sighed quietly and Lucas had a feeling he knew what she meant. It meant Teri was thinking how he often made promises that he meant to keep, but didn’t.

Fortunately, Teri said, she had her helmet on or she could have been hurt a lot worse. The doctor said she was very lucky.

I'm glad, he said.

Still, where the hell were you? Do you know what it is like to get a call at work to find out Scarlet's been in an accident and you're nowhere to be found? Paul, I needed you!

This is getting out of hand, Lucas thought.

Teri, I was out in the woods, he said. Nothing unusual.

Nothing unusual? Do you realize what time it is? You know we eat dinner at 6:30, right?

Lucas gently picked up Scarlet's elbow. The doctors had done a good job cleaning it; it appeared a bit rusty around the dressing, nothing too bad. He kissed her forehead.

Look, it wasn't a typical day for me, either, he said. He really wanted to tell her about the man’s head in the tree but had a feeling now wasn’t the time. I’m sorry I was late. Won’t happen again.

Okay, Teri said, though Lucas could tell she was still upset.

She turned and walked out of the living room, leaving Lucas with Scarlet. He knew there was nothing he could say. He was at what TV relationship counselor Bob Watkins called an impasse. When you hit an impasse, Bob would say, best thing to do is re-focus your energy into something besides the argument.

Oh, honey, Lucas said to Scarlet, who was looking at him. Are you okay? Can daddy fix you some ice cream?

No, daddy, she said. Mommy already did that.

Lucas smiled. He could usually count on Scarlet to be truthful. Oh, okay, then. You could have said 'yes' and I would have done it anyway. He winked.

Scarlet giggled, but then her face turned serious.

Daddy, you aren't mad at me, are you?

Mad at you? Of course not, sweetie, he said. I'm just glad you're okay. Now let's see about getting you ready for bed.

As Lucas tucked Scarlet in, he read her a story out of her favorite book on unicorns. When she giggled at his silly voices, he couldn't help but feel grateful that she was safe and hadn't been severely injured. After she drifted off to sleep, he put the book down and looked at his daughter. Much as he sometimes regretted his decision to give up his adventurous single life, when he watched Scarlet, the sacrifice seemed well worth it. As he looked at her, he remembered the afternoon and his near accident with the little girl.

What a weird coincidence, he thought and shivered. That could have been her. Scarlet’s slight serene smile as she drifted off to sleep soothed him.

Someone's really got to do something about that lousy intersection, he thought. I’ll contact the city council first thing tomorrow and take care of the daycare after school.

After turning off the light in Scarlet’s room, he went to the kitchen and heated up the dinner Teri had made. He attempted to watch some news, but quickly fell into a drowsy state. The day had taken its toll on him and he was ready for a good night's sleep, so he decided he’d check in early. He entered the bathroom and performed all his evening rituals when he recalled something else: The Teacher of the Year Award.

Yes!, he thought and smiled. I can apologize again to Teri about being late and tell her the good news and this whole stupid argument will be over.

He opened the bedroom door. A dim light emanated from a small bedside reading lamp. Teri was in bed, her back turned to him.

Honey, I'm really sorry, he began, I know I put you through a lot by being late— he purposely didn’t mention the cell phone—and that's the last thing I ever want to do to you. Anyway, I want to tell you about some really good news I got today. This afternoon, I was selected as the Teacher of the Year!

Teri didn't move.

Teri?

Not a sound.

Teri, aren't you going to say something? No congratulations? Nothing? Honey?

It was then that Lucas heard a soft snoring.

You've got to be kidding!

Teri rolled over, but didn't wake.

I can not believe this, he thought, quickly disrobing and hopping into bed. I get to go to bed mad! That's infuriating. Goddamn infuriating!

He snatched some of the blankets from Teri and shut his eyes. Eventually, his heart slowed and his breath calmed, and as he lulled off into a night where he had dreams that he didn't remember, he'd forgotten all about his odd encounter with the creature who was about to change his life.

1

Chapter 4 – Lucas Wins – Twice!

As he drove to work the next morning, Lucas pondered the argument with Teri. He knew he had messed up by being late and not having his phone, but he was also convinced that she had over-reacted. It was out of character. While he knew things were a bit more serious this time because Scarlet had been hurt, he thought there could be only one reason Teri had blown up at him: stress.

Lately, Teri had been working long hours—10 hours per day, often six days per week—for the Puget Sound Salmon Recovery Agency. Usually, she went in very early so she could get a head start on the day and then get home at a reasonable hour. Teri would often tell Lucas that there were just so many tasks and not enough people to do them all. She simply had to over-extend herself to help the natural world, especially animals. While her work was often an uphill battle with more losses than wins, she felt it was important. And she did it because she loved it, not because she was working for an overbearing boss, and certainly not for money considering her small paycheck.

Lucas respected Teri for her dedication to the environment—after all, this shared love of Nature was one of the reasons they had connected—but still he had trouble with her working so many hours. He hated it, but he knew that to pay their various bills they both had to make some sacrifices. Still, sometimes it seemed as if she were never around, especially in the mornings. On these mornings he'd feel alone, sometimes even wondering just who this woman he'd married was.

That Friday morning she'd been up early as usual and Lucas had wanted to jump out of bed and tell her about the man in the tree (he’d again forgotten about the Teacher of the Year award), but again figured it needed to be talked about at the right time, and before work was certainly not the right time. Besides, the weekend was almost here so there'd be time to discuss it then. So he had rolled over, closed his eyes and made a decision to put the man in the tree as far out of his mind as possible. It was just so odd and unexplainable! He still wasn't sure it had happened; it didn't seem possible.

As Lucas pulled up to the stop sign at 145th and Main, he thought about these things deeply and decided he should call Teri from work to briefly apologize and promise to take her out to dinner that night. He passed the intersection without remembering his promise from the night before to call the council about it. There was just too much to remember! Too many things to think about! And when he rolled into the school parking lot, his mind changed direction like a hammerhead shark turning on its prey when he saw Willie Rialto's candy red sports car sparkling in the sun.

The bet! Lucas thought. Instantly, he remembered so many bets they had made before: bets on the Super Bowl, the Final Four, the World Series, the Kentucky Derby, which staffer would get the drunkest at the staff Christmas party at Principal Weinburg's place. Nothing was sacrosanct. They even bet on the outcome of the 2000 presidential race, a wager which Lucas still refused to pay because he felt Bush had cheated and illegally stolen the election. So many great bets between them, but nothing to top this! The two highly competitive teachers had made this bet long before most of the others, way back at their first staff Christmas party.

I'll bet you I get that Teacher of the Year award first, Rialto, a large, muscular, tan and hairy man usually dressed in sweatpants and a baseball cap, had slurred.

You're on, said Lucas, downing his eggnog as if to prove how serious he was.

20 bucks.

Have some balls, Rialto, Lucas yelled, straining to shout over the other partygoers, who were loud now that the spiked eggnog and hot buttered rum was disappearing. Make it $50.

Fifty bucks. Piece of cake, said Rialto, throwing out his oversized hairy hand to Lucas, who shook it quickly and snapped his hand back, wiping it on his pants when Rialto had turned his gaze away.

Lucas smiled at the memory as he brought his car to a stop. He checked himself in the mirror: His rectangular face was smooth shaven and his slightly tanned skin was clean. He licked his hand and smoothed down his short, light-brown hairs until they were all in their assigned places. Unfortunately he wasn't wearing anything special, just his usual Levi Wranglers denim blue, buttoned shirt and blue jeans with a tan leather belt. He'd wanted to wear something nicer to receive the award, but it had slipped his mind that morning when he'd sleepwalked through his dressing routine.

Shit, he thought and looked at himself one more time in the mirror. It'll have to do.

He gathered his books and papers into his pack and hit the automatic button to roll up his car window. Nothing. No problem, he’d dealt with this glitch in the past, all it took was a little manual push on the bottom of the glass to get it started. So he pushed as he pressed the button. Again, nothing.

Damn electric windows! he cursed, trying again and again failing. What was wrong with using our arms and hands?

He checked the car’s electric clock—it too wasn’t working. But he didn’t need a clock to tell him he would be late if he spent any more time on the window. So he grabbed his pack, leaving the window for now, and walked into the school. Just seeing Rialto's Camaro had kick-started his blood flow, so when he entered the staff lounge he was just about skipping. As quickly as possible he took in the teachers seated around the room: Tammi Hamamura, Rose Collins, Jack McCollum, and Sam Danielson all sat at one table and a few others were scattered around the room, but no Rialto.

Lucas approached the table where the four teachers were discussing the upcoming football game between the University of Washington and the University of Michigan.

The Dawgs are gonna take it to Michigan again, McCollum said. And in the meantime, teach those Wolverine idiots that it was Husky Stadium that first invented the wave.

I hate to interrupt, said Lucas and all four heads swiveled to face him. But have you guys seen Willie this morning?

He's around somewhere, Hamamura said. I saw him in here about 20 minutes ago.

From the direction of the boiling coffee pots and assorted donuts (Friday was always donut day) bounced the peppy, athletic and too-cute-for-her-own-good Wendy Swanson, her often-flowing blonde hair subdued this morning with a bright red bow. I think he's in talking to Max.

Called into the principal's office, eh? Lucas said. Interesting. Thanks, Wendy.

No sweat, she said, flashing a quick smile that Lucas thought was flirtatious.

He was flattered, but didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression, so he simply said, Okay, gotta go.

We'll see you at the big announcement? Wendy asked.

What big announcement? Lucas replied innocently. Did everyone already know?

Come on now, Paul, I’m sure you know they will announce last year’s Teacher of the Year at the afternoon meeting, Wendy said, and gave Lucas a subtle wink.

Oh, that, Lucas said. Yes, I'll be there.

Quickly, he scooted out of the staff room, making for his classroom.

Damn it, he thought. Do they know who the winner is?

He had been praying that no one would find out before the meeting. But who had he been kidding? The kids may have been safe with this staff, but secrets were not. Mostly, he wanted to see Rialto lose that silly grin in front of everyone at the meeting when he learned that Lucas, not the favorite Sam Danielson and not him, Mr. Super Phys Ed Teacher Willie Rialto, had won the award. Yes, that’d be sweet, wouldn’t it? Lucas cracked a sideways smile, praying that this wish would be granted. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

---

Fifteen Rainier View Elementary School teachers sat around an oval-shaped table, doing their best to pay attention to Principal Weinburg, who was standing behind a podium at the head of the table droning on about something or other that hardly seemed relevant on a Friday afternoon. Most of them were just hoping it would end soon.

Of the bunch, Paul Lucas was probably paying the least attention to the principal. He sat with his elbows on the table, his hands locked like a cap across the front of his head so no one could see how his eyes were focused on Rialto sitting across from him between Wendy and Danielson. Rialto wore a dark blue Seattle Mariners windbreaker, black sweat pants and, of course, that ridiculously stretched smile.

Who does he think he is? The Joker? Lucas thought. Still, Lucas kept watching Rialto, waiting to see if the smile would disappear when Weinburg announced the award.

And now, Weinburg said, raising his voice and alerting the daydreamers, it's time I make official the winner of the 2000-2001 Rainier View Elementary School Teacher of the Year award.

Make official? Lucas thought. Did that imply that everyone already knew? He prayed not; please, dear God, just let me see Rialto’s shocked expression when he learns it’s not him, it’s me, Paul Lucas! Please!

His eyes stayed glued on Rialto, who had yet to change his expression.

It's never easy to make these choices, especially with such a talented staff like ours, Weinburg said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas noticed Danielson sitting upright in his chair, eyes fixed intently on the principal. Weinburg was leaning against the podium and dully looking at the other side of the table in Lucas’s direction, but at no one in particular.

But when you get a teacher such as this one, Weinburg continued, you only harm the whole staff by letting his talents go unrewarded. Since coming here four years ago, he has been an extremely dedicated teacher, always willing to go the extra mile with his students.

At this point Lucas noticed that Rialto was sitting up straighter in his chair, his smile still intact. It looked like he was concentrating or awaiting something. Does he think the award could be going to him? He's gonna lose that smile for sure if that's what he's thinking!

He's quick to come up with creative lesson plans and he serves as a fine example to which all of us can aspire, Weinburg said. Paul Lucas, you’re the 2000-2001 Rainier View Teacher of the Year.

The teachers clapped and looked at Lucas, who quickly stopped staring at Rialto. But he'd seen it; a slight quiver in the lips when the principal had said Paul Lucas and it had made Lucas happy—oh so happy!—if only for a second. He smiled widely at the others around the table. Rialto hadn’t known? Yes!

Come up here to receive your plaque, Weinburg said, beaming. And perhaps be so kind as to enlighten us with a few words.

Lucas smiled at the principal as he walked to the head of the table. He shook Weinburg's hand, took the plaque and said, Principal Weinburg, thank you. I'm not sure I've got enlightenment to offer, but I've always got a few words.

The room chuckled and Lucas continued, I’m really honored to receive this award and am not sure I really deserve it. It's thanks to everyone in this room, people like Tami Hamamura and Sam Danielson, to name a few, who were so willing to take the time to answer any question I had, even if they were the crazy questions of a naïve, raving lunatic.

The teachers laughed again.

So, Lucas said and paused. Thank you. Before I finish, I just want to acknowledge Sam Danielson again, who for my money is the greatest teacher in history and who serves as my inspiration and role model. Nobody puts in the work he does and I can only hope I will be so dedicated 25 years from now. Sam, I dedicate this award to you.

Lucas raised the plaque toward Danielson and everyone at the table clapped, everyone except Weinburg, who stood quickly and said sharply, Thank you, Mr. Lucas.

Most of the teachers seemed not to notice Weinburg's curt tone and lack of applause, but Lucas did and thought it was odd. For a moment, it even took Lucas away from his original task, which was to put his mind to figuring out how to confront Rialto about the bet. By the time he'd reached the podium, though, Weinburg was adjusting his tie and smoothly slipping back into being the cool administrator, droning away, so Lucas refocused his attention to Rialto.

He was chuckling with Wendy Swanson about something. Are they laughing about me? Did I do something stupid up there? Was my fly down? We'll see who's laughing when he's forking over that 50 bucks.

Lucas did his best to act like he was paying attention to Weinburg, but he didn't really hear one word the rest of the meeting. When Weinburg finally finished, Lucas whispered across the table to Rialto: We need to have a chat.

Instead of responding, Rialto pointed toward his throat, tilted his hand toward his mouth and shook his head.

Paul, I think he's saying he needs water, Wendy said. He's still getting over laryngitis, remember?

Was Wendy aiding and abetting the enemy? Why?

Sure I remember, Wendy, Lucas said as Rialto made his way to the door. He can get his water and come down to my class, right Willie?

Rialto nodded as he scooted out the door, and it was only then that Lucas realized Rialto was making a run for it.

Paul, I think it's really great –

Wendy, thanks, really, Lucas said, but I gotta go.

Lucas darted out the door, looking both ways down the hall. No sign of Rialto. Was he really that fast?

Lucas was about to run down the hall after him, but then he stopped and smiled. He's afraid of me! He can't even face the music!

Lucas felt elated. Instead of running toward the staff parking lot where Rialto was no doubt making his escape into the Friday afternoon traffic, Lucas slowed down and began to shuffle toward his classroom. If the confrontation was going to bother Rialto that much, all the more reason to put it off until Monday. Why not let him sweat about it all weekend? Besides, why make a fool of himself, a grown man chasing after another grown man?

When he got to his classroom, he found a small, bronzed statue of a cowboy riding a bucking bronco on his desk. It had a slit in its back and a $50 bill was sticking out of it. Underneath the statue was a hand-scrawled note, which read: Lucas. Here ya go. Congrats! Willie.

Lucas laughed. It was a typical emotionless note from Rialto and he had not expected any less. But the bronze bank was another matter entirely. It was beautiful and well-detailed. He could see the pained creases of concentration on the cowboy's face and the muscles bulging in the calves of the bronco. Lucas had always deeply respected rodeo cowboys and he had even convinced Rialto to go with him to the local rodeo last spring, where they had made many wagers. They had had a good time that day, even though Rialto won $20 from him. Still, for Rialto to give him the thoughtful gift in addition to the $50 seemed very out of character for him.

Maybe he thinks he can buy his way out of having to talk to me, Lucas thought.

He figured that was it, so with the mystery of Rialto's curious generosity solved to his satisfaction, Lucas put the bank into his pack, grabbed some papers to grade over the weekend and vowed to confront Rialto first thing Monday morning so he could gloat. Seriously gloat. And when he did, he would savor it, every single smile-less second. Those were the moments that made life worth living, weren’t they?

1

Chapter 5: Time for a Chat

On the drive home when Lucas passed through 145th and Main, his thoughts were so focused elsewhere that, again, he forgot his vow to call the Lincolnton City Council.

Rialto. The name was a gnat that wouldn't quit buzzing around Lucas’s head, even when—especially when—Rialto wasn't present. Teri often said his rivalry with Rialto was petty, childish and bordering on obsessive, but she didn’t understand the full history. Rialto was more than Rialto. He was every smiling, good-looking, athletic fool who had ever called Lucas a dork, geek or dweeb, every sweet-talking preppie who had ever laughed at Lucas’s stuttering insecurities.

When he was in high school, Lucas thought these super-smiling arrogant males—jocks, they were called then—would evaporate in college, sucked into society's fabric like bad gas. Then, he went to college at the University of Washington and made a shocking discovery. Not only did they still exist, they had graduated to a new title: frat boys. He knew it was them—the jocks—when he saw them clustered in the campus' main square, baseball caps turned backwards, whispering among themselves, smiling, no doubt making fun of the geeks passing by, geeks like Paul Lucas. So Lucas waited for the day when he would leave college and enter the real world, a place where he figured the frat boys’ cover would finally be blown and everybody would see them for the phonies they were.

Well, you know what happened. They—jocks, frat boys or whatever they were called in their adult incarnations—were still around.

Lucas found this out when he walked into Principal Weinburg's office for the first time and just about scurried right back out. Standing across the desk from Weinburg was a smiling, slick-haired and hairy Willie Rialto wearing a curved baseball cap and a silky smooth sweatsuit.

He cringed at the memory as he pulled into his driveway. It was only when he saw the forest behind his house that he finally broke from obsessing about Rialto and remembered his encounter with the man's head in the tree. How could I forget about that? He picked up his pace, hopping out of his car in a desperate race for the machete. He wanted to cut a clear path to the man in the tree.

Then he remembered his argument with Teri. He certainly didn't want a repeat performance so he went inside and grabbed his cell phone. He often kept it in his backpack and both he and Teri had lost track of the number of times someone—usually Teri—had called and he didn’t answer because it was so deeply packed away. But he knew if he didn’t bring it and Teri called, there would be hell to pay.

In addition, the phone could serve as a watch. Lucas hated to wear a watch, feeling a psychological allergy to them. After all, he always had a clock around him at school, so when he was not at work he didn't like how watches could keep him from immersing himself in timeless activities such as his forays into the forest. Under the shady trees and amidst the fallen logs, time had a wonderful way of slowing down and disappearing altogether. When he wore a watch, on the other hand, he always felt like he was on the clock and there was a subtle anxiety attached to it, as though by wearing it he always had to be aware of how many hours, minutes and seconds he was spending on an activity, rather than just enjoying the activity to the fullest.

Teri is going to be home by 6 and I can't afford to be any later than that.

Lucas made peace with the cell phone, checking its battery—it was full—and checking the time: It was 4:45. Plenty of time, he thought and put it in his pants pocket.

He picked up the machete and headed into the woods. Finding the man in the tree was not going to be easy because when he'd left the night before, he hadn't made a trail. And that crazy deer had run him in circles getting there! Still, he had a feeling that he could find the man—no, that he was meant to find him—again. He knew that the man was somewhere off the trail to the old-growth Douglas fir grove, and that he had cut through a line of hemlock saplings to get there. But which line?

So he zigzagged down the steep hillside until he reached the bottom of Last Rush Canyon. The trail broke off three ways from here and he followed the one that veered to the right. Dubbed Douglas Fir Grove Trail by Lucas, it passed by a number of fallen, moss-covered trees, once towering giants now resting in death. Yet their death was life to many of the other species in the forest: beetles, spiders, centipedes, mosses, lichens, mushrooms; so much depended on the fallen dead tree. Curious by nature, Lucas had often spent time studying this forest within a forest with a magnifying glass. This warm fall afternoon, though, he had a bigger creature he wished to examine.

He rounded a bend guarded by twin hemlocks with their monstrous roots jutting out of the ground and had a sudden inclination to head off the path to his left. As he did so, he dragged his feet so he'd leave behind the impression of a trail. Maybe I should be like Theseus and have my ball of thread, he thought. It might not be the Minotaur, but it is a pretty odd creature I'm seeking.

Suddenly, he saw what he was looking for: the row of hemlock saplings. He examined the land for suggested trails that could lead him around the hemlocks. This time, he didn't want to break through the saplings for the sake of his own trail. Best to leave no mark after you've left, his Grandpa Jerry had told him when he was a kid and they’d gone hiking together. That way, we can go on living with the Earth forever.

Lucas scanned the land and to the far left there appeared to be a small opening between the row of saplings and an ancient cliff face. This cliff marked the other side of Last Rush Canyon, and was much steeper than the canyon wall on Lucas’s side. Lucas hacked some prickly blackberry bushes at the beginning of the opening. He wanted to clear a wide path so that he could bring Teri and Scarlet. Teri often complained about his so-called trails and even he had to admit they were often no more than suggestions of paths.

He spent about 40 minutes making a more discernable path and as he did so, it was almost as if he lost any sensation of his individual body, while gaining a feeling that his body was now the whole forest, connected to everything around him. It was a sensation that he only achieved when he was somewhere in the outdoors like Last Rush Canyon, in the grand-yet-gentle silence of the forest. It was quiet, yet it spoke of a presence that he was only a small part of. The only thing that brought back his awareness to his body was sweat on his brow, which he had to wipe when it ran into his eyes. He closed his eyes and attempted to lose all thought and exist purely in that forested moment, but was distracted by a thought—

You've got to get going! More path to create and you can't be late, not after last night!

He heeded this warning and admired his handiwork: the path was just large enough. In short, it was a good start. Satisfied, he walked on, careful to watch his footing as he stepped past two huge sets of roots in the mossy ground. The moist ground looked like a landscape of green and brown craters and if he stayed too long on the mossy islands, they'd just sink and become a crater for his next time through. Wanting not to tread heavily, he hopped from root to root and made it across the green-brown crater-scape.

He looked in front of him and guessed that only an open grove of hemlocks and Douglas firs dotted with a few patches of bracken separated him from the circular grove of the curious creature. He cleared some fallen branches and blackberry thorns and lost track of himself, feeling satisfied as the earthy fresh air filled his lungs. Rarely did he find such enjoyable work as this; even the joys of teaching didn't approach the serenity he found working in the woods. Deeply enmeshed in this state, Lucas stumbled into the clearing and gazed at a sunbeam, only to see the tree with the three marks. He was here!

Looking up, he saw that the man's head was … not a head. Not exactly. If he used his imagination then yeah, he could see a head. But it took some work. No, today the head looked only like a strange knot.

He suddenly wondered: Did I imagine it all?

For a split second, Lucas doubted himself. But then he remembered the vividness of the experience—it must have been real.

Finally, he asked the knot, Hello? Are you still there?

No answer.

Hello? Are you there?

Still no answer.

What the hell is going on? Suddenly, he had a strange thought: Had there been something in that strawberry milkshake? Had he been dosed?

Quickly, though, Lucas realized how silly this thought was. He’d had experience with various psychedelic drugs and all of them had lasted longer than just an hour or two. And when he’d returned home last night, he’d felt perfectly normal.

So much for that theory. No, the Tree Man had been real. There was no other explanation. But for whatever reason, it wasn’t coming out today.

At last, Lucas said, Well, isn't that odd? The man who said he's dying for conversation doesn't want to talk.

Still nothing. Lucas hacked away some of the small bushes which blocked the end of his trail and noticed for the first time