Naked in the Winter Wind

by Dani Haviland

  I struggled forward, concentrating on taking deep, steady breaths, trying to keep my heart rate down on the aggressive hike. It was definitely not moderate as described on the poster, at least for me. I thought I was in good shape for an old broad, but evidently, I was not. The old man ahead of me didn’t seem challenged by the steep intervals, though.

  I was silently cursing my obese, weak body, not paying attention to how close I was to my psych patient, when I almost blew it. All of a sudden, there he was. Simon had come to a complete stop in the middle of the trail, a stone’s throw ahead of me. He was bent over, picking up some sort of artifact.

  I tiptoed over to a stand of tall, scrubby bushes off the path, and sidled closer to sneak a peek at his discovery. He had what looked like a toy airplane in his hands, but even from this far away, I could tell that what he had was not a child’s toy, but a fine, miniature scale reproduction of a glider. It appeared new to him by the way he was examining it, running his fingers over the framework, holding it up to the fading light, looking for gaps or clues or whatever.

  It looked like a Leonardo da Vinci replica to me. I had received a book of paper airplanes based on some of his designs for my birthday, twelfth I think, and I was positive that this was one of them. However, this one wasn’t made of pre-printed craft paper and plastic rods. It appeared to be made of parchment stretched over a wooden frame, held together with catgut or some other coarse, straw-colored binding. If it was a clue, it was a classy one.

  I saw Simon look up and smile. I followed his gaze. Someone was approaching. Was it a man in a dress? Yes, it was an older, longhaired man in a cream-colored, flowing robe, strutting down from the upper trail, a big smile of welcome on his face. Well, either he was a nut or he really was Leonardo da Vinci, back from the 16th—or was that 15th?—century. Ah, this must be his friend, Leonard. So this must be the special rendezvous Simon was so eager to make.

  Okay…now I got it: Halloween! His friend dressed up like Leonardo and hung a print of the Mona Lisa in the parking lot with some sort of clue on the underside of the pins. That led Simon to this custom-built glider model. Leonard da Vinci-themed clues for Simon from his friend named Leonard. Cute and clever, even if it was a little over the top.

  So why did Simon say all that crap about suicide earlier? Maybe I just read more into it than there was.

  I backed away from my leafless lookout, plopped my weary butt down on the hard ground, and rested my forehead on my knees. I wanted to melt down, to evaporate into the atmosphere; better yet, to be teleported back to my recliner in Fairbanks. Here I was, four time zones off my body’s natural biorhythm, six thousand land miles from home, severed from my comfortably boring daily routine, and involved with a cryptic and crotchety old man.

  I looked up at the two men—smiling and chatting away, happy to be in each other’s presence. Simon had met up with his friend—all was well in their little world. It was time for me to leave. My outlandish adventure was over.

  I still didn’t want Simon to know I had followed him, so I decided I’d hang back here and recuperate from the long hike—in silent mode, of course—until they were gone.

  The two men’s arms and hands were flying up and out, visually amplifying their vibrant conversation, their words lost in the air between us.

  Oh shoot, I couldn’t help myself. Even though I knew it was wrong, I wanted to eavesdrop. I crawled forward, trying to catch the excited pair’s tête-à-tête. The wind shifted, and I both heard and smelled them, the appetizing aroma of manicotti and olive oil causing my stomach to rumble in response. I clutched my belly, trying to muffle the growl, but they were oblivious to me or anything other than each other.

  I could hear their words now, but it didn’t help much—they were speaking Italian. Yes, Mister D., you are so into character that you’re speaking the language. I had never learned Italian, but I was pretty good at Spanish, so was able to follow the gist of their conversation. Apparently, the two of them were going to hang out until the sun came up. Then they’d go home together, hand in hand, “Il grande salto dalla montagna,” the big jump down the mountain.

  “What?” I gasped out loud, then crouched low to the ground, wishing I could crawl into it and hide. Crap, they were going to commit suicide—together!

  They hadn’t heard me and were still chatting away, not a care in the world, fully animated, their heads, hands, and arms in constant motion. It was like watching an old Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin routine. They were acting like schoolboys, excited about playing hooky during test week, actually happy about dying!

  Leonardo reached down, grabbed a fistful of dead leaves, and tossed them straight up in the air—maybe he was checking for wind speed or direction. He shook his head, “Non qui,” picked up the plane, and motioned for Simon to follow him.

  The two scuttled off the established trail, up a side path, with me doggedly trailing behind them. They stopped talking, and instead focused their energy on the increasingly steep climb. The going was rough for me, too, but the odd mix of curiosity and compassion that drove me was more powerful than the fatigue that was urging me to quit. This worn out, but indomitable old lady was going to keep up with those two oddly dressed—and one of them certifiably ornery—old men, determined to intervene so a life or two wouldn’t be tossed into the wind.

  Leonardo, leading the way, stopped without warning. He put on the brakes so suddenly that Simon bumped into him. Of course, that meant I had to stop quickly, too, but my reflexes weren’t fast enough. I took one too many steps, and the last one was noisy.

  I froze and squeezed my eyes tight, hoping it would help me become invisible. Even if it didn’t, with eyes shut, I wouldn’t see the look in their eyes when they realized that some weirdo woman had followed them up the long, arduous trail, then off the beaten path.

  Nothing was happening though—my existence not acknowledged—at least verbally. Maybe they hadn’t seen me. I still didn’t want to open my eyes to find out, so continued in stealth mode, just in case. My shallow breathing was beginning to catch up with me. I had the overwhelming urge to take in a big, healthy lungful of air, but stifled it, and instead concentrated on blending in with the living woodwork.

  “Sento l’odore delle rosa,” Leonardo said.

  I think he said he smelled roses.

  “No, percepisco le rosa,” he corrected.

  Did he say he perceived—or was that he sensed—roses? Oh, crap: I think he meant me.

  A single set of footfalls approached, stopping directly in front of me; another pair shuffled up and stopped behind those. Neither man spoke, adding to my apprehension. I doubt either of them were happy to see me, the woman who had been trailing them for over an hour.

  The whisper-soft flap of wings overhead broke the awkward silence. I tilted my head back, opened my eyes, and saw a big, bulky, mottled-brown bird suspended in the thermals above. I glanced over and saw the two men watch as the bird floated in the lake of air above us. In tandem, they nodded to one another in complete understanding, like an old married couple. They didn’t say a word, but looked at me, then each other, and then back at me again. Maybe they thought the owl was an omen or something. I let it ride, glad that they weren’t upset with their stalker.

  “Okay, okay, I followed you. But I only came to make sure you were okay.” Both men smiled at my apprehension, or maybe it was at my naivety. I paused, then clarified my statement, “It’s just I was afraid you were going to kill yourself by jumping off a cliff, and I didn’t want that to happen. You seemed…”

  I stopped right there. Both men’s good-natured grins fell, and their mouths dropped open in amazement. For some reason, their pale, shocked faces empowered me. I didn’t say a word, though. I just watched them with half a smile, waiting for one of them to finish my sentence for me.

  Simon spoke first, clearing his throat to begin. “Ahem. Madame, I thank you for your concern, but you need not worry. We have everything under control.”

  I looked
at him, my head cocked and eyebrows raised, but still I said nothing. The ‘look’ worked. He was obviously hiding something because he suddenly had a very guilty look on his face. I glanced over at his friend and nodded, then looked back, asking Simon wordlessly, “Who’s he?”

  Simon pulled himself together, literally, before answering. The little man shifted his shoulders within his coat, cleared his throat again, and pulled his elbows into his waist, as if to pull up his pants. “Madame Madigan, may I present Leonardo da Vinci, my friend and traveling partner. Leonardo, this is Dani—is that Danielle?—Madigan.”

  Leonardo bent over and kissed my hand, which seemed to have risen by itself to his mouth. “Siete la signora di rosa?”

  “Yes, they sometimes call me the rose lady. How did you know? Do I smell like roses?” I lifted my forearm to my face, sniffed, and then realized I was more relaxed now that my presence was acknowledged.

  “No, you do not smell of roses. I sensed you. You are not like the others. You are kind and not selfish. That is why you followed. You did not believe the treasure was gold or jewels, did you?” Leonardo was speaking English, but with the most intriguing Italian accent.

  “Nah, gold and jewels don’t trip my trigger, uh, they’re not important. They’re just rocks dug out of the ground—traded, purchased, stolen, or given away freely. Now human life, that’s very complicated and precious. Created in God’s image and recreated every generation out of nothing but a little egg and a sperm too small to see with the naked eye. Once a person has left this earthly plane, he’s gone forever. True, you once could buy and sell people as slaves, but thank You, Lord, it’s illegal to do that anymore. Humans are high maintenance. You have to feed them, protect them from the elements, and then still, they can just up and die when you least expect it. Precious metals and jewels can sit in crypts for millennia without fading or deteriorating. Just don’t try that with a person. Oh, excuse me, I’m babbling again.”

  “Some would say that is why gold and jewels are more valuable,” Leonardo countered. “They retain their worth through the years and are easy to transport, don’t require special handling, and are quite durable.”

  “Yeah, well, a rock is a rock, and only man has decided that gold and diamonds are more valuable than,” I bent over and picked up a walnut-sized stone, “this.” I tossed it up in the air, caught it, and then threw it into the ravine the owl had hovered over earlier. “Whoa!”

  The rock wasn’t falling, but instead was drifting down, as if on a cushion of air. I squatted down and picked up a bigger rock, this one tennis-ball sized. I threw it underhanded into the same area and watched as it arched in the air. It, too, sank slowly, until it was out of sight. I couldn’t see the bottom of the ravine and listened in vain for nearly a minute, waiting for the rock’s report.

  I looked back to Simon and Leonardo, wondering if they had seen my little pitching exhibition. They had, but didn’t seem surprised. Their identical reaction—both still very much in tune with each other—was pinch-faced, eyebrow-crowding concern.

  Simon gulped, his mouth empty of words. He was very aware of the gravitational anomaly, but didn’t know how he should react to it. Instead, he glossed over the phenomenal results of the rock tossing. “My, my; how fascinating. Madame Madigan, it is getting late, but the moon is rising now, and you should have enough light to find your way back to your car.”

  I glared at him, but said nothing. He fidgeted a little and then looked at Leonardo, who replied nonverbally with shrugged shoulders.

  Simon tried again. “I feel a bit of a chill coming on. Shall we build a fire to warm our hands?”

  “That sounds like a splendid idea,” Leonardo agreed loudly and with too much enthusiasm. He kicked aside rubbish and leaf matter to expose a site for a fire pit, and began gathering fallen twigs and branches. “I’d love to hear about your roses. I hear they are quite different from the once-blooming Rosa albas I’m familiar with.”

  I mumbled something like, “sure,” and shuffled about, picking up loose twigs, adding them to the pile. At least for now, I didn’t have to worry about old men jumping off cliffs.

  I brushed small granite pieces off a boulder I planned to use as a seat, then looked up and saw that both men were staring at me. “Yesss?” I drawled. When they didn’t reply, I added sarcastically, “Is there something you need?”

  Leonardo, who seemed to be the alpha male of the two, said, “You are just so beautiful.”

  I tucked my double chin down and frowned at him like, ‘Are you nuts?’ but replied with the polite words, insincerely spoken, “Thank you.”

  Simon was fidgeting again. I think I was intruding on his quality time with his friend and he wanted me gone. I smiled at him and looked away. “Almost a full moon tonight,” I said to the sky, speaking just to change the uncomfortable topic. “I’m glad I’m not in town with all the Halloweeners.”

  Leonardo stared at Simon, a puzzled frown on his face. “Samhain,” Simon said as a one-word explanation.

  I started at the sound of the strange word and, turning back, saw Leonardo nodding his tacit acknowledgment. He poured something on the poor excuse of a fire. It flared up and stayed big; it had to be more than lighter fluid he was using.

  “Would you care for an aperitif?” he asked as he held up a small, long-necked green bottle.

  “No, thanks, I’m fine.” After his little display of alchemy, I didn’t want any of his potions passing my lips.

  I saw a look pass between the two of them that seemed to say, ‘Rats, foiled again.’

  Leonardo started making small talk about roses. I was wary but polite, certain that he was just trying to gain my trust. Whatever. I was just killing time with the empty conversation, recuperating from the long hike, and waiting until the moon was higher, bright enough to see the path back to the parking lot. I had been wrong about Simon’s suicide risk. I knew that now. These two just wanted to be alone. I was more than ready to go back to Greensboro proper and Leah’s bed, but I didn’t want to do it in the dark. I wasn’t going to tell them that, though.

  “How about a jumble?” Simon asked. “I forgot I had brought along some of these wonderful sweet cakes for my journey.” He pulled out a small beige cloth packet and opened it. Inside were four intact cookies and several big broken pieces. “It seems they are a little worse for the travel. I’m sure my encounter this morning had something to do with it.” He picked up and inspected one of the more substantial chunks before eating it.

  Well, the cookies looked good, and he did eat one first, and it had been a long walk; I guessed it was safe enough if I just took a small piece. I doubted Simon, or his baker, would be lacing cookies with LSD or angel dust.

  I looked into the cloth container, took out a small bit of broken shortbread, and put it in my mouth. It wasn’t very sweet—more like a spiced butter cookie than oatmeal or chocolate chip—and had a rich, smooth texture. I closed my eyes, withdrawing from visual distraction in order to focus on the intriguing spice. I looked up, ready to ask what it was, when I saw both men staring, watching for my reaction. It was then that my tongue started to tingle.

  “I hope this doesn’t have almonds in it; I’m allergic to them. My tongue is itching, and why are you two staring at me?”

  I was becoming—oh dear, all I could think of was—befuddled.

  I heard a woman’s voice singing a nonsense song, but couldn’t see her when I looked around. The two men in front of me were laughing as their bodies segued from normal human beings into the Looney Tune characters of Elmer Fudd and Yosemite Sam. Yosemite was asking me if I wanted to dance and, well, I couldn’t help but accept. Elmer was cheerily clapping and stomping his feet in time to the music that was coming from everywhere. I danced and twirled with my cartoon partner until I begged to sit down on the giant mushroom near the fire.

  Now Elmer and Sam were nose to nose, speaking so rapidly I couldn’t understand them and, dag nab it, there weren’t any balloons over their heads with wor
ds in them like in the comics. The two men didn’t seem very happy. I guess that wascally wabbit got away again…

  Out of nowhere, I heard a woman’s high-pitched voice call out, “My, my, this toadstool is too hard and lumpy. I think I’d rather sit down over there, on that small sofa.”

  The plump and perplexed old woman who had just ingested hallucinogenic carbohydrates adjusted her backpack and walked toward the stony outcropping, intent on more comfortable accommodations.

  “Ooooh, nice,” she said as she walked across what she thought was a crisp graham cracker path to a mammoth marshmallow settee.

  “Stop,” shouted the two men as she swan-dived into the great, white cumulus cloud of a couch.

  But they were too late to stop her. Instead, they followed her over the cliff, each grabbing one of her feet.

  The crisp autumn air in my face quickly brought me out of the spell. Oh, crap! I was falling! Actually, drifting, but still moving downwards. I was sure to hit bottom eventually. I felt a pair of hands on each ankle, grasping and then clutching their way, hand over hand, up my body until each man had a death grip on a wrist. I looked back and forth between them, all of a sudden stone cold sober and scared. What I saw looking back at me was not fear, but anger.

  “She’s ruined it, Simon! You should never have let her follow you,” screamed Leonardo.

  “I didn’t mean for her to come, but what could I do?” Simon yelled back. “She saved my life, and if you had just left a note rather than your idiotic clues, I wouldn’t have needed her!”

  “I’m right here, guys. I can hear you, you know.” I pulled my hands away from them and turned over to look up at the sky. “When are we going to... Oh, shit!” I exclaimed, seeing the trees at my side. The ground had jumped up beside me, right here, right now, and then it was all over.