Above the Bridge Read Online Free PDF Page B

cup’s lid and looked around the room.
    The high school girls were just grabbing knapsacks from below their table and tumbling out the front door, accompanied by a flurry of youthful energy and more than a few bursts of laughter.  Old Man Thompson was still drinking his coffee, sitting in the same place, bent over his cup in seemingly deep concentration.  Either that or he was asleep, Paige thought. It was hard to tell since he never lifted his head, aside from a very occasional sip of coffee. And for that his head was more inclined to move towards the coffee than the other way around.  A few tables held local residents browsing the morning paper, while others customers came and went, arriving empty-handed and departing with various steaming drinks and fresh bakery goods in their hands.  Outside, the rain continued to fall, tapping against the front windows of the café in a bleak contrast to the buzz of activity inside.
    About halfway through her latte, it occurred to Paige that she was glancing at the door each time it opened, observing arriving customers with interest.  The sudden realization that she was watching for Jake took her by surprise, as did her disappointment when he did not show.  She lingered, reading the paper, finished her latte and muffin and decided to head back to the inn.
    Raindrops were still falling as Paige walked the short half block from the café to the main street of town, though by now the downpour had faded into a light drizzle.  The gray clouds overhead had lightened a bit, but still hovered above the town.  As Paige turned the corner, she noticed the four distinctive arches around the town square that she had seen upon her arrival in Jackson.  Sculpted from gathered elk antlers, one stood at each corner of the block that formed the central park area for the town.  For a brief second she thought the closest arch reflected a faint light, as if a small ray of sun had slipped through the clouds.  Glancing up, however, she saw nothing but the same cloudy gray.  Another look back at the arch told Paige she was mistaken about the light.  There was nothing but rainy day landscape in front of her.  She pulled her jacket tighter and returned to the inn just in time to avoid a crash of thunder and a new downpour.
    With the rain continuing to fall outside the window of her room, Paige set about documenting her initial impressions of Jackson.  She pulled a small notepad from her suitcase, a spiral bound book with a tan cover.  Turning to the first page, she jotted down the general location of the town that had originally been named “Jackson’s Hole,” after Davey Jackson, an early fur trapper.  She described the two main streets, which ran perpendicular to each other in town before veering off in opposite directions. The first, Broadway, headed south, passing through Hoback Junction about ten miles later.  It then meandered through the Snake River Canyon and the town of Alpine, finally crossing into the state of Idaho.  The other, Cache Street, headed north, passing a multitude of local businesses and many of the town’s motels before finally reaching the outskirts of Jackson. Beyond that, it headed through Grand Teton National Park, up through Yellowstone National Park, and eventually into Montana.
    It was an amazing place, Jackson Hole.  Nothing Paige had heard or read about it did it justice, now that she was seeing it with her own eyes.   Set in a bucolic valley and bordered by soaring mountain peaks, it would be impossible not to be impressed by the dramatic vistas the area offered. The most majestic stretch of mountains was the range known as the Grand Tetons, created by shifting layers of volcanic ground and then sculpted by frozen, knife-like glaciers.   Surrounding ranges each offered a variety of terrain, trails and landscape.  A gaze in any direction would reveal a masterpiece of natural scenery.
    Mountain peaks were not the only lure for visitors.  Crystal blue