Eternal Heat

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

With solemn faces, they gather around the Gothic wrought iron sundial like it was a slain dragon out of some ancient battle. Iron plates bearing Roman numerals were arranged in an ellipse about its northern side upon the ground. An ominous shadow cut from the spire falls across the Roman XI, where it remains, representing all that is going wrong in their world.

“So, it’s been exactly like this for half the day now?” Emma poses to Robert.

“I’ve been doing things around the ranch, been on the shortwave a bit, but checked it every so often and it hasn’t moved since eleven o’clock.”

Staring at the shadow pointing to XI on a ground level stone, Jillian indicates her friend, “Dad, this is Emma Stone. She’s a tech lady from the station who knows the microwave stuff. My dad is a ham operator, so you guys should have some things in common. Emma, my dad, Robert Graves.”

“Hello,” they echo to one another. Robert tips his cowboy hat.

“Speaking of work, Jillian. We need to set up soon.”

“Take time for a lemonade?” Not waiting for an answer, he is practically pouring out from the fringe of the sundial, inside the shade of a large maple tree to the north of the Dahlesque. There is a free-standing swing whose frame is made of rough timbers. The swing itself appears to be out of a home and gardens magazine with the service arranged securely on the seat. It is an odd mixture of rough and refinement.

The last to peel her gaze from the pointer’s shadow, Jillian remarks, “Judging by the ice in the pitcher, you guessed our arrival time pretty close.”

“Thank you,” says Emma who is the first served. She notices that Robert’s eyes are a deep, but distinctive hazel, like his daughter’s.

He hands a glass to his daughter whose smile is thanks enough, answering, “Maybe ten minutes since I made the lemonade.”

“This is going to be so good. Our pop ran out an hour ago,” Jillian begins to slur amid cold, hard sips, careful to avoid an ice cream headache.

“And this here is Bascom,” Robert says, taking occasion to pet the brown golden retriever.

She stoops over to place her hand on top of the waiting, furry head. The fluffy, excited tail seems to be shaking the entire dog.

“You think he knows?” Emma asks of the dog.

“He knows,” Jillian speaks with certainty, explaining, “He’s almost ten and hasn’t done the ‘I’m a lost puppy so I’m going to follow everybody around’ thing in several years.”

“I haven’t said much but I’ve been very worried for all the animals in our world. This thing is going to be devastating, especially to wildlife,” Emma says.

“I’m afraid it is,” Robert agrees solemnly.

Emma takes her first, real look at Robert. He is much more youngish and virile than she had imagined Jillian’s father would be. She discretely admires the man’s strapping figure while enjoying the fruits of his labor in the drink. Rolling her eyes back as she threatens to empty her glass, she makes herself look away because a woman knows ‘that look’ on another woman’s face. Besides, Jillian is about the best friend she’s ever had. Some things one just does not do, especially when first meeting.

Realizing that she has actually started blushing, Emma is grateful that, if it’s noticed, she can blame her reddened cheeks on the gathering heat, voicing, “How hot is it anyway? I’m just not used to the outdoors.”

Robert glances at his wristwatch, then reports, “Eighty-four in the shade. It’s a little warm for this time of year. But, it’s nothing like what we’re going to be seeing.”

Emma c***s her head slightly, noting the wrist device, “But you’re standing in the sun.”

He practically embraces her, both wonderfully and disturbingly close, pointing her attention to a shady side of the house where there’s also a swimming pool with stone structures and cascades nearby, saying, “See the little box up next to the back door?”

“Uh-huh,” she manages, what with her heart racing and all.

He softly releases her and eases back a half-step, explaining, “That is a full blown weather station. It talks to my watch. Keeping an eye on the weather is real important on a ranch.”

Emma clasps his arm to get a better look at the device, trying not so well to keep her hand from shaking. Her gadget mindset allowed her curiosity to get the better of her senses and she acted impulsively. Now that her pulse is reacting to holding his firm flesh in her hand, she finds herself fighting hard to concentrate on technology.

Jillian silently observes the two, while continuing to nurse her lemonade. Lots of local women had been vying for Robert’s affections, once a respectable amount of time had passed since the funeral. Some were less than respectable. She felt her dad deserved someone less taken in by money. Someone exactly like Emma.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, it’s nothing,” she swallows on a dry throat, purposefully not looking in her friend’s direction, and persuading him to focus with her on the watch. “So, show me how this works.”

Robert makes a mental note to keep watch over her, especially in the building heat, but begins a description, “There’s the temperature where it reads eighty-four in this corner. Underneath is the barometric pressure with up and down arrow, or no arrow for steady. On the other side here is for weather icons like the full sun icon for the present condition. It even alarms if there’s a cyclone event. Plus, there’s a rain gauge on the roof that reports with this button.”

“If you two are through holding hands,” Jillian says glibly, though in tacit approval, “my watch says we’ve got twenty minutes before we go live.”

“Yes, well, thank you, Robert.”

“Of course,” he says calmly, taking up their three glasses together with the service tray and pitcher. They leave thoughts of the sundial behind and walk with purpose toward the main house, each of them mindful to not trip over Bascom who’s being the over-sized puppy.

“Dad, we’re going to link up from the front yard. It’s shady out there, and there’s enough breeze to stay cool. Maybe even stay there until the show is over. I kind of forgot that it’s not going to get dark, so there won’t be any point in moving the gear inside later tonight.”

They were all approaching the back door as her dad replies, “Whatever you need. I kind of want to watch, if that’s okay? I’ve never actually watched you in action. Although I’m expecting a radio call in an hour or so. Say, that won’t interfere with your setup, will it, Emma?”

“No, we’re way up in the gigahertz range,” Emma answers him, “and we use phase modulation on the link-up. So, there shouldn’t be any mid-range interference, either.”

Jillian is the first to make the doorway and Emma lags behind to hold the door open for Robert, who says in passing, “I think it’s cool the way you’re tech savvy.”

Bascom brings up the rear of the entourage, eager to stay with the humans. As Robert walks by, the very wind from his body causes goosebumps on Emma’s arms and the back of her neck which she internalizes, for the time being at least. It is clear to her that this immediate attraction to Jillian’s father is not a thing she can just sweep beneath her mental rug. In the midst of all the events on her psyche today, instant attraction is both unexpected and is pushing her body’s systems over the limit. Even so, since her friend has yet to react to this obvious magnetism, Emma wonders if there is some silent resentment going on. After all, as she’d learned during the drive out to the ranch, her mother passed only three years ago and an untold amount of figurative baggage may still be lying around. She is resolute to talk earnestly with Jillian during the radio show.

It simply cannot wait.

Retracing their path through the main house when they had first arrived, Emma quickly catches up with Jillian past the kitchen and amid the entrance foyer with a split winding staircase to either side. The elegant handrails were polished alabaster, as apparently were the picture frames staggering up the stairs against perfectly white walls. She notices in passing this time that the door also seems like alabaster, a bit darker than the handrails, but has the same pearl-like quality. The door handles were the same in suit, shaped like hearts. With no time to spare looking around, they dive into Jillian’s Escalade to find their necessary gear to perform the radio talk show.

Emma unpacks the relay system that basically looks like a thick laptop computer while Jillian dons her two Bluetooth devices, one into each ear.

“Which way is southwest, dear?”

Jillian points out a line straight down the sandy, dirt road they drove in on that is fortunately between the massive shade trees along the front of the house. Each of the ladies opens a car door and the air is suddenly filled with dog as Bascom launches himself into the front passenger seat, all set to go for a ride. Standing on the Cadillac’s door jamb, Emma eases the case down on the very top then flips open a Velcro sealed pouch from the case top and produces a miniature microwave horn, complete with a rubber-footed tripod. About the size of a pop bottle, it is standing in position in seconds. Once she powers on the base unit, pre-programmed functions engage and the white micro-lithe starts to dance around with the aid of tiny servo motors attached to its axis, hunting for a good signal.

Emma presses a button then calls to her friend, “You should be ringing the station now, Girl Jill!”

Jillian is in the driver seat, looking over some email on her smart phone but whistles affirmatively to Emma.

“Wanna talk me through this?” Robert comes up behind Emma and although a bit over six foot he can just barely see the hardware on the Escalade.

She looks over her shoulder, broadcasts her own smile at him, saying, “Just step up here beside me.”

He does so easily and without pressing against any part of Emma’s body. She admires the gentleman in him.

She points at the mini tower, voicing, “This is a little microwave horn. Servos here and here help aim it according to tower signals from the San Francisco valley area. Individual tower codes are stored in the base unit as is the station’s phone numbers. The computer finds a convenient tower and is ready to dial in automatically. Jillian’s Bluetooth devices are linked into it by this little dongle. You’ll notice she has two. One is her open mic over the airwaves and the other is for the control room.”

When finished with her walk-through, she flashes her eyes up to meet his, and his smile.

“Well, they don’t all do this, do they? You’ve done some programming on it.”

“Yeah,” she admits, happy for the attention to her craft. “In case I’m not available, the way I’ve got it set up now most anyone could hook it up and find a cell tower. But don’t let Vince, the station manager, find out. Jillian made out like she needed me here as an excuse to bring me along.”

“This is cool,” he says without looking away from its screen, “but wait until you see mine. It’s a lot bigger.”

“I’ll bet it is,” she flirts.

“Did you…?”

Emma interrupts him then and there, “Honey, you’ll have to get used to me. I can be kind of spicy.”

“Food and women,” he comes back instantly, stepping off his perch. “Love them both spicy.”

Bascom whines, then moans something non-coherently.

Emma accepts his extended hand to help her down, although she could very well have jumped. She smiles at Robert but remains silent. Jillian has started into her monologue, and she wants to listen in. Quietly closing the passenger door, her five-foot- seven inch body puts her head at a perfect height and she leans into the open window. Robert has to stoop a bit but there is room for both of them to observe. They find Jillian already in good form.