Chapter 12
Donna saw the name on the mailbox. Ahead, the road curved to the right. The gravel drive leading to Blake’s house was a fork to the left. She went left, thinking of the Robert Frost poem.
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Her tires crunched over the gravel as she followed the drive through the woods and up the hill. She blinked, surprised, as the house came into view. The other homes she had passed were mostly made of siding stained in soft, natural colors, but this one was constructed of pale peeled logs and river stone. The home perched on the crest of the hill, the central gable soaring into the blue sky among the surrounding pines. This log house could, in no way, be called a cabin. The front of the two-story high gable in the center of the house was entirely glass, with a river rock chimney on one corner. The tall roof reached forward in the center like the prow of a ship. A long deck ran across the front of the house and wrapped around the side.
The gravel drive split, one side winding toward the back of the house, probably to a garage. A large stump stood at the edge of the property near a stack of firewood where someone had been splitting logs. Donna took the other fork that led her to the front of the house.
Donna got out of the car. She took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful scent of freshly split wood and smoothed her clothes. After changing several times, she had decided on a simple knee-length denim skirt and fitted cotton blouse. She carried a jacket, knowing that the temperature would drop after the sun went down. Donna reached into the back of the jeep for the groceries and started toward the house. The entryway was to the left of the deck, a cozy covered porch with stone pillars leading to a heavy wooden door surrounded with beveled glass windows.
As she started up the porch steps, the front door opened. “Donna, you made it. Come in. Here, let me take those.” Blake took the grocery bags and led her into the house. “Just hang your jacket there.” He nodded toward a tall hall tree made of a pale but gleaming wood with inlays of dark wood forming a frame for a mirror. A row of wrought iron hooks shaped like aspen leaves already held two jackets. A bench at the bottom provided a place to sit and change shoes.
Donna hung her jacket on a hook and stroked the polished wood. “This is a beautiful piece of furniture.”
“Thanks,” Blake said. “It’s from the factory in North Carolina I told you about.”
Donna followed him from the entry into the great room and stopped, staring. The room itself was beautiful, with furniture similar in style to the hall tree, warm colorful rugs on the wooden floor, and a towering fireplace, but Donna found herself staring out the soaring front windows. The position of the home high on the hill overlooked an incredible landscape of pines surrounding a sweeping meadow, framing the view of tall mountains in the distance. “Wow.”
Blake set the groceries on the dining table and came to stand beside her. “Those are the San Francisco peaks. They were formed from an ancient volcano; they are over 12,000 feet tall.”
“They’re beautiful,” Donna said.
“There is a ski area there.”
Donna turned toward him, eyes shining. “Really? I had no idea there was skiing in Arizona. I love skiing.” Turning her eyes from the view, she began to notice the rest of the room. “All this wood furniture is from the factory too, isn’t it? It is all different, but somehow it fits together.”
“The designer calls it ‘contemporary Mission’ style. The basic shapes and styles are based on classic Mission designs, but he uses different woods like cherry, maple, and beech to create a smoother, more flowing finish than the traditional oak.”
“I love it.” Donna moved over to examine the dining table, crafted from dark cherry with lighter wood inlaid in a chevron pattern. The heavy trestle styling and the tall, slatted chair backs revealed the Mission influence. “It is perfect for this house.”
Blake picked up the groceries. “Let me put these away.”
Donna, still gawking at the great room, followed him past the dining area and back to the kitchen, separated from the rest of the great room by a large island of warm amber-colored stone. A breakfast area at the back of the kitchen contained a small round table and chairs of wrought iron and polished walnut. Blake set the groceries on the island and began unpacking.
“Umm, asparagus, my favorite. Chicken, mushrooms, rice, wine, good…pinions - excellent choice.”
Donna laughed. “I do believe you are hungry.”
“Guilty as charged.”
A whine came through the open door at the back of the kitchen and Donna went in to find Sally, reclining on a soft dog bed. The plastic cone around her head made her look ridiculous. Donna knelt down to reach inside the cone and rub the dog’s ears. Sally’s tail thumped against the wooden floor. “How are you, girl? Poor thing, as if all that pain and surgery weren’t enough, they have to take away your dignity too. This thing is worse than those hospital gowns they make people wear.”
Blake followed her in. Donna looked up at him. “She seems good. What did the vet say?”
“She says Sally is doing fine, and she thinks the surgery is a complete success. Sally has to take medicine for a week and then go in for a checkup. Mostly, she just needs rest.”
“Good.” Donna gave Sally a final pat. “Okay, let’s get started on that dinner. How do you feel about strawberries?”
“One of my top four favorite berries, along with raspberries, blueberries, and huckleberries.”
Donna laughed. “Is there anything you don’t like?”
Blake considered the question. “I’m not overly fond of lima beans.”
“I think we can work around that.”
After Blake showed her where to find the basics, Donna began preparing the meal. She washed the strawberries and began to slice them, Blake looking over her shoulder. She de-hulled a strawberry and turned to pop it into his mouth. “How are they?” she asked.
Blake nodded, his mouth full. After chewing and swallowing, he answered. “Excellent.”
“Good.” Donna added a little sugar and Grand Marnier to the strawberries and put them into the refrigerator. The kitchen was a true cook’s kitchen, with a large refrigerator, gas range, and high quality knives. Donna suspected that Blake was a more than competent cook himself.
“How about slicing these mushrooms for me?” she suggested.
“Sure.” Donna’s suspicions were confirmed as she watched Blake expertly weld the chef’s knife, producing perfectly even slices. Working together, they soon had dinner ready.
“Let’s eat at the dining table,” Blake suggested, “and we can watch the sunset.”
He quickly set the table with woven wool striped placemats, linen napkins, and sage green plates, topped with soup bowls in a sunflower pattern. He poured glasses of wine while Donna ladled the asparagus soup into the bowls.
The sun was setting as they set down. Donna forgot about her soup as she watched the extravaganza. The colors started with hot oranges and reds, setting the clouds on fire, and then slowly cooling to pinks and purples as the sun dropped below the mountain peaks. Donna watched, fascinated, until the last bit of sun was gone. She turned her head to find Blake watching her instead of the sunset.
“Amazing. You get to see that show every evening?”
“Every day is a little different. It never gets old,” Blake affirmed, “although it is better with someone to share it.”
Donna felt herself blushing. She began to eat her soup.
“Excellent soup,” Blake commented. “Will you give me the recipe?”
“Sure. Just snap off the tough part of the asparagus and remove the tender tips…” Donna said, feeling more comfortable.
Over dinner, they chatted over the events of the last few days and the upcoming wedding. Donna mentioned the restaurant Blake had chosen the night before. “The rehearsal dinner was great.” She chuckled. “Your sister is
a hoot.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “She always has been.”
Donna grinned as she buttered her bread. “What does Rebecca do for a living?”
“She gets married.”
Not sure if he was kidding, Donna looked up and raised her eyebrows.
“Seriously. Her second husband was both wealthy and generous. After they had been married a few years he found someone new, but he was happy to offer Rebecca a generous consolation prize to go away quietly. They still keep in touch.”
“Really?”
“She parted on good terms with her third husband too. He was even richer, although not as openhanded. Still, she doesn’t ever need to worry about such prosaic concerns as working for a living.”
“The Reverend seems smitten,” Donna remarked.
“Fortunately for him, she is fishing catch and release. Believe me, if she were playing for keeps, he wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Donna laughed, shaking her head.
“That’s one of the reasons I was so happy when Matt and Kristen announced their engagement. Matt hasn’t really ever seen a stable marriage from the inside, but Ross and Cindy had one of the best marriages I’ve ever known. I hope Kristen can show Matt how a good marriage works," Blake said.
Donna put down her fork. “Tell me about Ross and Cindy.”
Blake looked up. “I thought you were an old friend of theirs.”
Donna shook her head. “I never knew Cindy. I only knew Ross for a brief time, but I felt very close to him.”
“Ross was like that. Every so often, when he would meet someone they would just click. I felt that way the first time I met him, as if I had known him forever. Ross and Cindy were like two halves of a whole. I don’t mean that they were alike, because they were very different people in some ways, but they complemented one another. It was a joy to watch them together. Without even being aware of it, they were always looking out for each other. Cindy would hand Ross a glass of water before he even realized he was thirsty, and he would bring her daffodils on blustery spring days when she was feeling restless.”
“They sound perfect,” Donna commented wistfully.
“They weren’t, but they were very good together. I saw Ross not long after Cindy died, and he seemed so lost. He tried to make the best of it, staying active, working on community projects, but it was hard for him. I was here for a visit about a year afterward and he seemed to be doing a little better. In fact, he took a trip to Las Vegas just before he died.”
“I know; that is where I met him,” Donna said softly.
“You knew Ross in Vegas? What were you two doing there?”
“Hey, you know what they say about what happens in Vegas,” Donna said lightly.
“It stays in Vegas. Fair enough. May I have some more of that rice, please?”
Dessert was chocolate sauce, angel food cake slices, strawberries, and whipped cream. Donna closed her eyes as she savored the sweet-tart flavor of the strawberries paired with the rich bitterness of the chocolate. When she opened them again, Blake was looking at her, his dimple just making an appearance. “You’ve got a little whipped cream on your face.” Blake reached out and stroked his finger gently against the corner of her mouth.
Donna could feel herself blushing. She looked down at her dessert bowl. “Well, we’d better get the dishes done,” she said.
Donna loaded the dishwasher as Blake cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. They laughed and talked as they worked. They checked on Sally once more before they moved to the living room.
Donna poured them each another glass of wine while Blake lit a fire in the fireplace and started some soft music. They settled onto the palomino-colored leather couch, gazing into the fire. Donna gave a contented sigh, “This is so nice.”
“That was a wonderful meal,” Blake said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. As I said, I love to cook.”
“I love to eat,” Blake said. “See we’re perfect together.”
Donna didn’t answer. After a few minutes she asked, “Has your family been in Flagstaff for a long time?”
Blake grinned. “If you’re asking me if you’ll find our name mentioned as one of the founding fathers, the answer is no. My dad worked for the railroad. He was a bridge inspector. As you can imagine, there aren’t that many bridges in Arizona, so he had a big territory to cover and traveled quite a bit. We lived in one of those tiny houses between downtown and Thorpe Park.”
“So how did you get into business?”
“I got a scholarship to NAU, and graduated with a mechanical engineering degree. I went to work for a windmill company, working with customers to match the right windmill to the job. Some ranchers still use the old windmills to pump water for their cattle, and wind generators were just starting to get popular.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It was. I got to travel around the state and talk to a lot of interesting people. We were starting to sell more of the individual wind generators to people who wanted to dabble in alternative energy. You may not realize this, but every small increase in the size of a propeller blade greatly increases the amount of electricity generated.”
“I didn’t know that, but I’ve seen those giant wind turbines.”
“The limiting factor is the bearing that supports the blades. I came up with an idea for an improved bearing. I talked to the people at the windmill company about developing it, but they weren’t interested.”
“That seems shortsighted of them.”
“It was, as it turns out. I saved up until I had enough to live on for a while and quit my job with the windmill company. Then I threw myself into developing this bearing and getting the patent. Once I managed to convince another company to manufacture it, I was set. Now my old employer alone pays me royalties every year that far exceed my old salary.”
“What a great story. What did you do next?”
“No, your turn. Tell me your story, Donna.”
“Mine is pretty boring.”
“Impossible. Tell me,” he coaxed.
“Okay. I got an accounting degree and married right out of college. My daughter was born less than two years later. I went to work for a big firm for several years, until I could afford to go into business with my partner. I like working with small businesses. Then two years ago, my daughter went away to college, and not too long after that my husband left me, and here I am.” She tried to sound lighthearted.
Blake reached out to stroke her cheek. “I can’t imagine anyone ever wanting to leave you.”
Donna stood up. “Your glass is empty. I’ll be right back with more wine.”
Blake nodded, content to let her set the pace. When she returned, she was more composed. She set the wine glasses on the coffee table and settled back onto the leather couch beside him.
“How did you get from windmills to furniture?” she asked.
“I met a furniture designer, a friend of a friend. He had these great ideas but he needed help with the manufacturing. We decided to locate the factory in North Carolina because they have a good source of wood there and experienced woodworkers. It worked out well. He really has no interest in the manufacturing process except to make sure that his vision is properly translated, so he did the designing and I handled the manufacturing, at least until the flood, but you know about that. He’s still designing, but I’m out of the business.”
“You’ve led an interesting life.”
“I’m pleased with what I’ve accomplished, but there are always regrets.”
“What regrets?
Blake stared into the fire for a moment. “I’ve always been alone. I felt it wouldn’t be fair to expect someone to commit to me when I had so little time and energy left over to give to a relationship.”
Donna smiled. “I have trouble believing that you were always alone.”
Blake smiled back. “Okay, I wasn’t a monk, but I never had a real partner. Heck, I’ve never even had a pet until Sally.”
> “And now?” Donna asked softly.
“Now I’m free. No more windmills, no more factories, just a part-time office for the occasional meeting and to keep track of my investments and royalties.”
The sounds of a whine and toenails clicking against the wooden floor interrupted their conversation. “Sounds like Sally’s up,” Donna said.
They moved to the laundry room, where Sally was attempting to push her plastic cone through the dog door. Blake laughed and gently pulled her away from the door so he could open it. He supported Sally as she staggered outside and sniffed around for a place to pee.
Afterward, much relieved, Sally returned to her bed, her brown eyes gazing up at Blake and her tail thumping against the floor. Blake squatted down to rub her ears. “You’re a good girl, Miss Sally.”
Donna smiled to herself, watching the interaction between Blake and his dog. Sally found her owner late in life, but they were completely devoted to one another. Second chances might be sweetest.
After getting Sally settled, Blake and Donna moved back to the living room. Donna walked over to a bookcase, examining the pictures there.
Blake came to stand behind her. She pointed to a picture of him with a boy about ten, proudly holding up a fish. “You and Matt?”
“Yeah, his first trout.” Blake reached past her to pick up another picture. His hand brushed her arm. Her skin tingled at his touch.”
“This is one of my favorites. This is when Matt found his first arrowhead.”
The photo showed the tow-headed six-year-old, grinning broadly, holding up a small stone arrowhead. “He’s adorable.” Donna said. “Where do you find arrowheads?”
“A friend of mine let us camp and search on his ranch. He’s someone I met from the windmill business. There was an old Indian camp there near the creek, and we found lots of small artifacts. Nothing particularly old nor rare, but great fun for a boy.”
Blake threw another log on the fire and they settled back on the couch.
“You spent a lot of time with Matt.”
“Not so much. Mostly weekends here and there. He deserved more.”
“You are so fond of Matt.” Donna spoke softly. “You’ll want kids of your own.”
Blake stared into the fire. “You know, I think I’m a little old to start with babies. I’ll wait for Matt and Kristen’s kids, and spoil them rotten.”
Somewhere, the clock struck the hour. Donna sighed. “It’s late. I’d better go.”
They walked to the entryway. Blake took Donna’s jacket off the hook and held it for her. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders as she shrugged it on. She was very aware of his touch. They stopped on the porch.
“It has been a lovely evening,” Donna said. “I hope Sally will be okay.”
“I imagine she will. She’s a tough old dog. Thank you for the wonderful meal."
“You’re welcome. Thank you for having me in your home.” Donna looked up into the black velvet sky, sparking with diamond stars. “I feel like I could almost reach out and touch the stars here in Flagstaff.”
“It’s the altitude and the lack of light pollution.”
Donna smiled. “I think I want to hear that it’s magic.”
“Maybe it is.” Blake moved closer. Donna felt the heat of his body. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair from her face. Then he put one finger on her chin to tip her face toward his and kissed her gently. The electricity generated from the light kiss startled them both.
Blake deepened the kiss, sliding his hands around Donna’s waist and pulling her toward him. Donna felt her arms reaching around his neck, one hand buried in his thick hair, desperately pulling him closer, tighter. She felt as though she wanted to extinguish all space between them. Her lips parted.
Donna had been expecting the kiss, but she was shocked by her own response. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to tingle. She could feel Blake’s hand making slow, gentle circles on her lower back; her breasts pressed tight against his broad chest. Inside her belly, she could feel a warm liquid longing, spreading throughout her body. Her knees felt like they could no longer support her weight. She hadn’t experienced such an intense reaction to a simple kiss since she was seventeen. She could feel his body responding to her arousal.
Finally, without letting her go, Blake raised his face from hers. His breath was ragged. “Are you sure you want to go?”
Donna took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sure I don’t, but if I don’t go now…”
Blake kissed her tenderly on the forehead and released her reluctantly. She put a hand on the banister to steady herself. She took another deep breath and compelled her feet to carry her toward her jeep. Looking back, she could see Blake’s figure standing on the porch, silhouetted against the faint light of the porch window. He stood motionless with one hand against a porch column, watching as she drove slowly away. Every molecule in her body urged her to turn around but she managed to keep driving.
Last Flight from Flagstaff (Choices: Story Two) Page 19
