s on the ocean. It's a river port."

"The Columbia," the driver said. "Where you from?"

"The other Portland--in Maine."

"Back east. I'm from Worcester, Mass, myself. Long time ago."

"You like it out here?"

"It's all right. Beats shoveling snow."

"It feels a lot milder," Oliver said. "We could get snow anytime in
Maine."

"Friggin snow," the driver said. "Here you go."

"You want to wait a couple of minutes--off the meter? I'll need another
ride."

"Where to?"

"There's supposed to be a big Japanese garden up on a hill. . ."

"I'll wait."

"Be right out." Oliver checked in, left his bag in his room, and came
out feeling light-footed. He had a map in one pocket of his bush
jacket. He unfolded it in the cab. "So--where is it?"

"Washington Park, Kingston Avenue."

"I see it. Great. Let's go." They drove into the city and climbed
through a residential district. The driver stopped at the entrance to
the garden.

"You can get a bus downtown on that corner over there," he said,
pointing.

"Thanks." The cab rolled away down the hill. It was quiet. The
neighborhood trees and hedges were lush. A layer of cloud imparted a
soft gray tone to the buildings and the streets stretched out below.

Oliver entered the park and strolled along paths that were nearly
deserted. He walked up and down through trees, past tiny ponds, mossy
rock faces, handmade bamboo fountains, patches of flowers, and
unexpected views. The effect was both wild and intensely cultivated.
The garden was an homage to nature, a carefully tended frame within
which blossoms fell and birds flitted in their own time.

A light drizzle began to fall. Oliver sat on his heels, warm enough in
his jacket and his canvas hat. The live silence of the garden gradually
entered him, replacing an inner deafness. When he stood, his knees were
stiff, but he had become otherwise more flexible. His plans were not so
important--they mattered, but not to the exclusion of what was around
him.

He caught a bus downtown and wandered through an area of mixed
industry, galleries, and restaurants. He spent time in a leather shop
that sold skins and hides. Oliver had never seen an elk hide. He bought
a rattlesnake skin, five feet long, that had intricate brown and black
diamond-shaped markings. The clerk rolled it in a tight coil and put a
rubber band around it.

Oliver ate in a Japanese restaurant. A scroll hung in an illuminated
recess at one end of the room. The