Jake stood at the window, hands stuffed in his pockets. "So, how can you tell?"
Cole Washburn looked hard at his friend. "Jake, buddy, if you think I'm going to comment on that one, you're crazy."
"Look, you've been married for a long time. You know how this stuff works." Jake ran his hand through his dark disheveled hair and paced the length of the room, then back. He stopped, momentarily, and stared out the window.
"You were married," Cole shot back.
"It wasn't love. It was lust. And power struggles."
"Isn’t it the same? Who the hell knows about love?" Cole got up from the laptop computer and went over to a stack of CDs.
"You, of all people, know it isn't the same." Jake watched curiously as his friend started sorting through the CDs. For the last month, the two of them had been trying to organize Jake's notes and compile the information into a cohesive report on the Grand Canyon explorations. Jake had been quiet and contemplative. But today, for some reason, he was totally distracted.
He hadn't been sleeping well. He couldn't concentrate. He was crazy. And he knew he was making Cole crazy, too. Jake wanted some instant solutions and hoped that Cole would help. But Cole was too shrewd for that.
"Without sex, where would we all be? Nowhere, that's where." Cole grinned. "Is that a line from a song? Well, it should be."
"Look," Jake said earnestly. "I'll admit, the woman turns me on. She's damn good-looking, blond, and has the sexiest green eyes, not to mention, a good bod. But, that's not enough to mess up your whole life, is it? Is it?"
"Mess up your life?"
Jake gestured. "Change it. You know what I mean."
"She would change it, all right." Cole began making a pile of certain CDs.
Jake figured he was looking for something specific and ignored him. "I screwed up the last time so badly, both Donna and I came away bitter and angry at the opposite sex for years. She's still not married. I'm sure I'm to blame."
Cole looked up. "Funny, most divorces aren't the fault of only one person. Why do you insist on taking the full blame?"
"I was at least seventy percent of the fault. Maybe more."
"How do you figure that?"
Jake laughed. "She told me so. I made too many demands. I expected too much. I refused to give in to anything. I—"
"All right! Enough! I guess you were a jerk, after all." Cole pointed to the stack of plastic encased CDs, then swept his hand over them to spread them like a fan on the floor. "There you go. All these are about love, from Paul Simon to U2, from Natalie Cole to Sting. Then there's the Beatles, Elvis, and Frank Sinatra. And more than half the country music ever recorded agonizes over pure love, lost love, true love, and wronged love."
Jake propped his fists on his waist and demanded, "Have you researched this?"
"Yeah, I've done my share of agonizing. Everyone has something to say on the subject. Everyone in the world—the world, Jake—agonizes over love. Listen to them, all of them, and see what they have to say. Maybe one of them will strike a chord with you. Then you'll know it’s not just you."
Jake shook his head. "You're nuts. No song can tell me what I need to know about this situation. What the hell am I supposed to do? Give up everything I've worked for?"
Cole wagged his finger. "Maybe. Maybe not. My point is, these songs can come as close as I could."
"But you know me, personally. You know—"
"I'm not getting between you and your feelings. You have to figure them out for yourself." Cole moved back to the computer that Jake and Brit had hauled around at the bottom of the canyon and started back to work.
Jake stood at the window and silently studied the San Francisco Peaks that towered on the outskirts of Flagstaff. He could not get her image out of his head, that hurt expression in her green eyes when he said goodbye.
Methodically, Cole packed up the computer and all the scattered papers. "I don't know the answers. If I did, I'd be rich." Cole stood at the door for a second. "I only know one thing, Jake. You are one miserable SOB, and I can't get any work done with you brooding like this. I'm taking everything to my house to finish. I’ll call you if I need your input."
Jake turned around and started to say something. But, in mid-thought and with his mouth open, he forgot what he'd intended to say before it could escape his lips.
"I understand." Cole smiled wryly. "Just remember that women are romantic creatures. They like the little things that show you care, if you care. That part's up to you."
Jake barely noticed when Cole shut the door. He pondered the craggy San Francisco Peaks which were snow-capped most of the year. Only now, they were bare, down to the rocky earth. Jake had hiked to the top once and was surprised to find exquisite, delicate wildflowers in a place where he assumed would be too rocky and barren for the existence of any beauty. The twelve thousand foot mountaintop was like the mile-deep bottom of the canyon, which looked sterile and empty. Once there, however, you could find a wealth of beauty hidden from public view.
Suddenly, Jake knew what he had to do. Right now. Immediately. It would help him think. He stripped down, put on running shoes and shorts, slid a pair of earphones over his head, and took off running. Running as fast and as far as he could. Running to think . . . or running away from his thoughts . . .
When he returned home, hours later, a feminine voice that he would never forget was on his phone message machine. He sat in the dark and played it over and over.
"Jake, they're making a mockery of Bonnie's story. I know it isn't important to you, but it is to . . . Bonnie. To her memory. And to the truth. I . . . really need . . . your help on this movie."
She didn't say her name, didn’t have to. He knew. Her name and her image had echoed in his brain since the day he left her at the canyon's rim. Now, he said her name aloud until it filled the rooms of his empty house and reverberated in his soul. "Brit . . . Brit . . ."
Jake walked through the rooms. "Brit . . . Brit . . ."
Her name conjured her image—the green eyes and blond hair and sassy smile . . . did he want to ruin both their lives as he had once before with Donna? He didn't think he could stand another foul-up with his life.
Knife Wing was a runner in the Zuni tradition. Stripped down to a loincloth, black hair bound with a headband and flying loosely around his shoulders, he looked magnificent. Knife Wing was one of a rare breed who could run great distances and even catch a deer. He told me stories of the ancient Zuni men who would chase a deer for miles until they caught it. He said the secret was not in speed, for the deer was faster, but in having the stamina to outlast the creature, for the deer had poor endurance over distances.
Knife Wing had wonderful stamina and would often say, after a run, that he caught a deer, but let it go because no one needed the meat. I never knew for sure if he caught a deer. But neither we, nor anyone in the tribe, ever went hungry. He took very good care of us all.
Chapter Fourteen
"That didn't take long." Brit tried to grip her emotions as she gripped the doorknob. The sight of Jake was both electrifying and devastating at the same time.
His voice was steady and velvet. "I'm not here just because you said you needed me for the movie. I'm here because I need you."
Brit's hands grew sweaty as she opened the door wider to admit him. He looked leaner than she remembered. But he was still dark-skinned and handsome. Her heart raced and she clutched involuntarily at her chest. "Wh . . . what?" For a moment, she felt dizzy, then giddy. Oh God, she had to seize her emotions and the situation. After all, she had called him for help on the movie. That was why he was here.
He handed her a single perfectly shaped long stemmed red rosebud.
Without moving or taking her eyes off his face, she accepted the flower.
Jake smiled tightly. "I never had a chance to romance you, to show you how much you mean to me. Let's take our time and enjoy, get to know all aspects of each other."
She backed into the room. "Love takes time,
Jake. More than we've given it."
"Right. I want to know for sure," he continued as he stepped inside and shoved the door closed with his foot, "that I really do love you ... as much as I think I do right now at this minute." He took one hand and pulled her close. "You're beautiful, and I've missed you like hell."
His arms swept around to frame her back, forcing her against the hard length of him.
"Oh, Jake, I've dreamed of this. Am I dreaming now?"
"You weren't a two week stand in the Grand Canyon. You have remained with me every waking moment since we parted. And I can't even escape you when I sleep. You're in my dreams, too, Brit. In my conscious and subconscious. In my blood . . ." His lips found hers, and he kissed her long and hard until they both came up panting for air.
He touched her face, her cheeks, her arms. "I've missed this, missed you . . ."
"Nothing like I've missed you." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again. "I thought we were through. I thought it was over—"
His finger pressed her lips. "Don’t think. Just love me."
She leaned her head back and laughed. "I love it, love to hear you say that. I'd love to love you, Jake, because I do."
He kissed her neck and scooped her up in his arms. "Where's the bed. I want to make love to you in a real bed. Let's not waste any more time."
She laughed and tried to wriggle down. "Careful! Don't hurt your cracked ribs."
But he held her. "All healed," he vowed and looked for a likely doorway.
She pointed with the rose and clung to his broad, strong shoulders as he carried her to the bedroom. There, with feverish motions, they peeled off shirts and jeans and underwear, leaving them in a hurried heap, laughing as they came together, bare body to bare body, to love. And how they did love. Hot. Passionate. Sweet. Hungry. Both of them sharing the same desires. And exchanging the same love.
He stroked and kissed all her secret places, rubbing his cheek to her belly and thighs. He told her of her beauty, then admired her with his caresses. She felt his soft, thick hair and the gentle brush of his lips over her body. That same wild stirring from within encompassed her, reminding her how much she loved him and longed for him with her every day, every night.
With both hands, she traveled the length of his aroused body, thrilling to his responses, teasing him with her touch. He was smooth and firm with muscles taut and ready. He still had an athlete's body in form and perfection, and she reveled in each kiss she applied to it.
When he came to her, urgent and insistent, his body seeking her, she drew him closer. He quivered with anticipation, then they were one, loving with intensity and splendor, building, growing, piercing, exploding together. Loving. Her wild little cries overwhelmed his low moans and created a glow of satisfaction over them both.
After a while, he stirred. "That was too fast. Next time, we'll take it slow."
"Will there be a next time?"
"Of course. I'm here to stay, to help you with the movie. To love you slowly and thoroughly." He brushed her hair back.
Brit looked at him, loving his darkness, his words. "What about your job? What about teaching and your project?"
"My colleague, Cole, is finishing the Grand Ruins project. And I have taken a sabbatical leave from NAU until the movie's done and we decide what we're going to do and where we're going to do it."
She propped up on one elbow and looked at him. "Am I hearing this right? You are going to be a consultant on this movie?"
"I want to make sure the Zunis aren't portrayed incorrectly. They are specific; and there are certain elements about them that should be accurate, don't you think? Anyway, I want Bonnie's story right. Don’t you agree?"
"You know how I feel about that. I can’t believe I'm hearing you right."
"Why? It's logical."
"It's a part of my dream, hearing you say this."
"Being with you is my dream, Brit."
"But, here?"
"I don’t know anything about the movie business, but I'm willing to learn."
Brit flopped back down beside him. "Well, we'll learn together. It's a crazy business. The original director for the movie has been fired and we have a new one."
"When did that happen?"
"Just this week. The new one seems to have a better angle and more understanding of the story. She's agreeable to hiring a Zuni consultant."
"She? A woman director?"
"Of course. Rudi says she's a terrific director making her mark in Hollywood's good ole boys' club. She has already decided that we're going on location for some of the shots. Won’t that be great?"
Jake caressed her tenderly. "Anything with you will be great."
"Jake . . ." She took his hand and kissed it on the back and then turned it and kissed the palm. "You've made me the happiest woman in the world."
"And I'm the happiest man." He placed his still-moist palm on one breast, rotating it against one alert nipple and kissed her again. And again . . .
After the taping of Yolanda's show, friends and family gathered for a late night party hosted by the Romeros. Brit and Jake were invited as honored guests. Again, the feast was fit for kings. This time, a band played lively music and the crowd was exuberant and boisterous.
Rudi was ebullient and went around embracing everyone, even Jake. "Hey, buddy! Glad you could come. Isn't that woman fantastic?"
"Which one? Yolanda or Brit?"
"Hey, that's good! Both, of course!"
"The show was great," Brit added. "The public is going to love it!"
Yolanda joined them. "You two weren't offended, were you? I didn't mean to make fun of you—"
"Yes, you did," Brit said with a shrewd smile. "And we loved every minute of it."
"So, how's the movie going?" Rudi asked.
"Not bad. We go on location next week."
"And what about when it's over?"
There was a moment's pause when no one spoke. Then Jake said casually, "Oh, well probably move to Flagstaff, get married, settle down and have four kids."
Yolanda leaned forward. "Run that by me again. Did you say you two were going to get married?"
Brit beamed. "Yes, but I’ll probably finish college before the kids. I've always liked history, but I think that, in light of what Jake does, anthropology would be best for me. That way, we can complement a project from both angles."
"Congratulations, bud," Rudi said shaking Jake's hand and hugging Brit.
Yolanda hugged them both. Then she walked on stage and interrupted the band in her un-abashed manner. "Attention, everyone! I have an announcement. There's going to be a grand wedding to go with my Grand Comedy, and all this came out of one little accidental trip to the grandest place down in the earth. Break out the champagne for a celebration!"
Jake pulled Brit closer and kissed her. "Grand is right."
"As right as it'll ever get," she murmured. In her heart, she knew that Jake would be her ever-lasting love. He was truly a wonderful and rare breed.
Knife Wing and I married in the Zuni tradition. We loved each other deeply. He cared for Sara, as much as any father could, even though she was not his blood child. When our son was born, Knife Wing was very proud. All the days of his life, Knife Wing loved me genuinely and beautifully. He was truly a rare breed and wonderful man to love.
THE END.
Here are recipes for foods Jake, Brit, and the Romeros ate in the bottom of the Grand Canyon. These are foods the Native Americans might have eaten as well.
Nopalitos
These vegetables are highly nutritious. Choose the new spring growth which is the most tender of the prickly pear pads. Wearing gloves for hand protection, scrape the stickers off the pads with a sharp knife. Wash the pads. Parboil them in salted water along with an onion about 20 minutes. Drain, salt and pepper and use in scrambled eggs, a salad, along with other vegetables, or with meat.
Black Bean Salad
4 cups black beans
1 medium red onion, minced
&n
bsp; 1 medium red bell pepper, chopped
1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
4 large tomatoes, chopped or sliced
1/8 cup cilantro, minced
¼ cup Mexican goat cheese or feta cheese
Rinse canned beans before using. Put all ingredients into a bowl, crumble cheese over all and add a vinaigrette dressing to taste.
Green Corn Chili Soup
½ cup green chiles
1 ½ qts. Chicken broth
1 small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, pressed or minced
¾ tsp. cumin seed
2 cups corn kernels
2 – 3 large tomatoes, cored and diced
2 cups shredded, cooked chicken
2 fresh limes, sliced
¼ cup cilantro, chopped
Combine broth, onion, garlic, cumin and corn. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer until the flavors are blended, about 15 minutes. Stir in the tomato and chicken and cook on low heat another 10 minutes. Add the green chiles and top with shredded cheese and cilantro. Serve with lime slices.
Recipes from Corazon Contento, Sonoran Recipes and Stories from the Heart, Madeline Gallego Thorpe and Mary Tate Engels, Texas Tech University Press.
Mary Tate Engels, author of more than 30 romance novels, soon to be on ebooks at Amazon, also has two non-fiction southwest history books with Texas Tech University Press: Tales from Wide Ruins, Jean and Bill Cousins, Traders; and Corazon Contento – Sonoran Recipes and Stories from the Heart, co-authored with Madeline Gallego Thorpe. She has three sons, two granddaughters, has raised a wolf in her back yard, and currently has two black cats for good luck.
Connect with me online at: www.marytateengels.com
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