by K C West
“I can’t answer that without knowing your qualifications.”
“Okay, how’s this for starters?” Her kiss aroused me. I opened my mouth to receive her probing tongue. It was sweet to the taste, like apples and sugar with just a hint of cinnamon.
“Mmm. Not bad. Not bad at all.”
Eyes smoldering with further delightful promises, PJ straddled my hips and unbuttoned my shirt. “So. Do I get the job?”
“I’m considering it.”
She pushed my bra up and kissed my left breast, while her thumb played havoc with my right one.
I felt rather than heard myself moan, but managed to get her to pause long enough for me to yank off her top and bra. A fire of desire blazed inside me.
After a few more seconds, our clothing lay piled around us. The slight breeze playing across my bare skin only heightened my need, and PJ seemed equally afflicted, if her incoherent words were any indication.
Rough and tumble at first, then tender and slow, we worked ourselves up to unrestrained passion, letting our cries drift across the hillside and into the cloud-dotted New Mexico sky.
Afterwards, we lay side by side watching the puffy clouds drift across our field of vision. Our fingers linked and we played at arm-wrestling.
“I’ve made my decision. You’re vastly overqualified for the job, but it’s yours, if you still want it.”
She pulled our joined hands to her lips and kissed my knuckles. “I do.”
“Good. I do, too.”
We rolled the blanket around us for warmth and gazed skyward again.
“I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of New Mexican skies and cloud formations,” PJ said.
I pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Do you know how to make clouds disintegrate?”
She raised an eyebrow and looked at me crosswise. “I’ve heard that too much sex can weaken the mind. It’s happened to you, poor dear.”
“Hey, I’m serious. See that little cloud over there?” I pointed to a small formation shaped like a newborn lamb. “Look at it and concentrate, I mean really concentrate. Don’t take your eyes off it for a second, or you’ll lose the magic.”
“Is it too late to reconsider the job offer? I think my employer may have slipped into senility.”
“PJ, please try it.”
“Okay, I’ll humor you.” She stared upward, unblinking, for what must have been two or three minutes. “It’s happening. It’s really dissolving.”
“What’d I tell you?”
“Clouds change shape all the time, though. They do it all on their own.”
“You don’t believe you can make them disintegrate?”
“Maybe you can. I think I’d rather be making love.”
“Again?”
“Sure, why not again?” She slid the blanket down and rolled on top of me, lips open, tongue searching, but it was not to be. Two or three geese flew overhead making loud honking noises and Pup came alert with a howl. Our quiet interlude over, we got dressed and headed for the Jeep.
“It’s not a parlor trick you know, the thing with the clouds.”
PJ turned. “Not that again.”
“It takes practice, so you have to keep trying. Do it sometime when you’ve got nothing else to do.”
“Sure thing. When I have nothing better to do.”
*
Back at the house, after unloading the Jeep and putting everything away, Kim settled down to do some work on the book, and I decided to go out for a run, taking Pup with me.
We jogged easily up the trail into the wooded area behind the house, pausing to climb a flat rock that overlooked a scenic view of the meadow and a meandering stream. Kim and I loved this part of the property. Often in the early morning or late evening, we’d see wildlife coming down to the stream for a drink. Although we couldn’t actually view the stream from the house, the meandering line of trees marked its course and, from our vantage point on the rock, we could watch the animals without scaring them away.
I stretched out on the rock face to soak up some rays and stare at the sky while Pup loped down to the meadow to catch up on various smells and sounds. Were he able to talk, he could probably relate all the activity from the last several days down there: what creatures had been about, what had died, what had been born.
Listening to the birds and the trilling of insects, I felt happy and at peace. Life is good, I told myself. There’s no place else I’d rather be right now than on this ranch with Kim. It’s meant to be this way. It’s our destiny.
The warm sun must have lulled me to sleep. I was suddenly chilled by a strong breeze that swept fluffy white clouds across the blue sky and rippled the hem of my T-shirt. The air moved from west to east now. Pup was stretched out beside me, feet twitching, whimpering in the throes of a particularly restless dream.
Recalling Kim’s talk about manipulating clouds, I picked out one of the swift-moving clumps and stared at it. It didn’t disintegrate, but after several minutes, its shape changed. It evolved into a band of mounted women warriors parading by with swords held high.
“You wish you were with them, don’t you?”
I sat up and turned so quickly I put a crick in my neck. Wrapped in a cloak of swirling mist, a tall young woman stood near me. I felt sure she was an Amazon, though I couldn’t explain why. Even though the cloud covering obscured her body’s shape and typical battle dress, I knew instinctively that she was an Amazon spirit guide.
“Who are you? I haven’t seen you before, have I?”
The haze cleared and revealed a warrior in full leather regalia. “My name is not important. What is important is that you and your soul mate ready yourselves for your duties.”
“Duties?”
“You were told your destiny when you met with the shaman and the others.”
“Yes, that’s true. You’re from Leeja’s tribe, then? Did they survive the battle?”
She held up her hand. “Silence. My stay here is brief. A visit to this time and this place takes incredible effort and strength. Only the bravest and strongest of warriors would dare volunteer.” She smiled and her formidable chest swelled with pride.
“Weren’t you the lucky one to be chosen.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it. I was the best. I knew I could reach you and I did.”
“And you’re so modest, too.” I glanced at Pup who was still prone alongside me. His eyes were open and focused on the warrior.
Was he seeing what I was seeing, or was he seeing through and beyond her?
“Okay. We’ve established that you’re the strongest and bravest of the lot. Props for that. You wouldn’t be related to Reena, would you?” I teasingly compared her to the proud and vain Amazon warrior Kim and I had dealt with in our visit to ancient Greece.
The woman’s mood turned somber. “Reena was a champion and a loyal member of the Queen’s Royal Guard.”
“Was?”
“She was killed during the battle you just mentioned.”
Oh, geez. “I’m sorry. I was just… She was a valiant fighter. And I’m sorry that happened to her.”
“It was her destiny to die in defense of our queen and our tribe. Your destiny is why I came here now.”
“I know I’m supposed to write about the Amazons, and Kim and I are supposed to identify as many as we can from research and matching medallions to bones and such.”
“The shaman will come to counsel you on that. You know her as Grandmother. Find a place in your home and prepare it for her.”
“What? How do we do that?”
The woman mumbled something under her breath. I sensed her patience was wearing thin. “Dedicate a room to your spirit guides and all who will make the journey across time to visit you. Put down sacred herbs, light candles to the Goddess. Keep your Amazon garments and weapons there.”
“We only have the sword and Kim’s tunic. I don’t - ”
“Prepare it. Your animal will tell you when a visitor is coming. You may even
smell the sage that will announce her arrival. The other things will take care of themselves.”
I groaned at the thought of seeing those skimpy Amazon leathers again. “Okay.”
“Do your duty to your mate and your Amazon family.”
“My duty.” I stood up and took a step closer to her. “Wait just a minute here. You guys were supposed to help us with that duty thing. We’ve been waiting for your guidance and nothing has happened so far.”
“I’m here now to set it all in motion. Here are your orders. Love your mate. Be the best Amazon you can be. We’re still living, surviving in your time. You must recognize as many of us as you can and keep the Amazon Nation alive for the future.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “Is that all?”
“For now, yes.”
“Good. The loving my mate part will be easy. The rest will take some time.”
“You will be tested. Even loving each other will not be as easy as you think.” Her voice grew fainter and the contours of her body wavered. “I must go now. You know why you are here and what you must do. The shaman will help you, but you must be strong. There are troubling times ahead.”
Her form dissolved completely, leaving me standing and staring upward at the ever-changing cloud formations. I realized that what had happened was no dream, but how would I explain this to Kim when I couldn’t fully accept it myself?
I took a deep breath. “Let’s go, Pup.” We climbed down from the overlook and started a slow jog back toward the house.
Kim was surprised when I told her of the warrior’s visit, but we set about designating a space in a storage closet in a corner of our office for the purpose of receiving Amazon spirit guides. Kim brought in an old trunk to hold our memorabilia and her sword. I placed candles and a jar of dried sage on a narrow table. Two pillows and a small area rug completed the decor.
Kim surveyed the space before switching off the light. “I guess we’re ready.”
“Do we need to leave a light on for them?”
“We’re not running a Motel 6, PJ. If they want to find us, they’ll manage.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 8
PJ had been away several days in Tucson and Tempe, consulting with the archaeological department heads at the University of Arizona and Arizona State University to enlist volunteers for the Chaco Canyon Preservation Project. At the conclusion of that tour, she planned to fly to Boston to present the final funding proposal before the Curtis Foundation’s Board of Directors. She hadn’t wanted to take the trip alone and had begged me to extend the deadline on Glenna’s book long enough for me to accompany her. I still had three more chapters to work on and couldn’t get away. We’d had words, but PJ accepted my decision.
The night before she left, we had another disagreement about money and the need for kitchen renovation. I’m not even sure how the subject came up, but it centered on the height of the cabinets and then it became an issue of the quality of the cabinets and the need for upgrading them.
Our budget had no room for replacement cabinets, and I didn’t see the need for removing perfectly good ones.
“They’re too high for me to reach the upper shelves,” PJ had said.
“Then, we’ll get you a stepstool.”
That was the wrong thing to say because it sounded like I was criticizing her height, or lack of it. And then I made it worse with what I said next. “Little Bird and I have no trouble, and we’re the ones who use the kitchen most.”
“What about when I start cooking for you?” PJ had said. I knew she wanted to learn to make simple meals.
“And the handles are way outdated now. Nobody uses gold knobs. We need to get silver-finished ones.”
I was about to concede then, feeling we could afford to make changes to a few knobs, but she complained about the style of the cabinets themselves. I failed to see how a set of cabinets could go out of style.
“Oak would be best,” she said. “It would go with the floors and furniture and trim in the other rooms.”
“Wouldn’t that make everything in the kitchen look pale, then? We have the tile and the countertops in the same light tone as the oak would be.” I still hadn’t learned when to keep quiet. I should have shut my mouth before I said that because she had the perfect solution, or so she thought.
“We’ll get a dark granite countertop and a nice contrasting backsplash. That’ll complement the light wood and tile colors.”
“That’ll cost us a fortune,” I said, already feeling a headache starting.
More words came after that. We traded insults that I did my best to tune out. I remember she called me a tightwad, and I called her a spendthrift. Then she said I was an old woman, which really hurt because I am older than she is, and she knows the age difference has always worried me.
I left to cool down. When I came back at bedtime, she was asleep or pretending to be. When I woke up the next morning, she’d already left. I found a note telling me that her flight was earlier than she thought. We talked briefly on the phone a few times since then, but we never resolved the issue.
I devoted all my energy to finishing the edits on the book and sending it back to Glenna. She’d told me the editor at Hawthorn University Press would have someone check for glitches in our research and someone else would proofread every line. In a few weeks, we’d have one final chance to go over it before it was published. In the meantime, I’d completed and submitted an article for the Society of American Archaeology, using some of my leftover research material.
I had a luncheon meeting scheduled with the director of the Museum of Indian Arts and Culture in Santa Fe, and I spent the earlier part of the morning making some transfers at the bank and visiting a kitchen remodeling company for estimates. I was still smarting from the fight with PJ, but I wanted to see if we could reach a compromise. It was mid-afternoon before I returned to the ranch, and I had an estimate I could live with and some brochures that I thought would please PJ.
When I turned onto our private road and drove beneath the antlers, it was almost three thirty. Now graveled, oiled, and graded, the road was in much better shape than when PJ and I had arrived last fall. Clouds of dust no longer enveloped vehicles traversing its length. We’d also managed to get rid of the loose gravel that liked to grab at tires and pull cars sideways. In fact, our little road was in better shape than some of the interstates.
I parked the Rover inside the barn, grabbed my packages and briefcase from the passenger seat, and stepped outside. I wished PJ could be waiting to greet me, but she was in Boston until tomorrow. We’d talked yesterday, and I planned to call her later today and tell her about the deal I had made on supplies for the kitchen.
I stood for a few moments, smelling the hot, still air which signaled the calm before the storm. What looked like a magnificent, mature cumulonimbus incus rose beyond the Sangre de Cristo Range. I stared in fascination at the perfectly shaped anvil formation. We’re in for it. I bet that baby is close to 60,000 feet. A storm chaser’s dream.
As I strolled toward the house, Pup raced across the meadow to welcome me. He loved this place and would sometimes be gone for hours on end. I think his wolf blood drew him to the wilderness. It was, after all, his birthright. Tongue hanging out, yelping, he bounded in circles around my legs.
“Hey fella, how are you doing?”
He woofed and then settled down to join me indoors, where our feline companions waited.
I dropped my briefcase and bags on the floor and flopped into my well-worn leather recliner. I’d change into shorts and a T-shirt after a moment to unwind and visit with the animals. Pup curled up beside the chair. I reached over and stroked him until he drifted into sleep.
My mind, however, wouldn’t stop churning. It was filled with the memory of the words PJ and I had exchanged. We’d always said we’d never leave on a trip angry with each other. Life was too precarious, and it made us feel bad to have things unsettled between us. This time, t
here’d been no good-bye kiss or hug and it was because we let her money come between us.
I’d had to work and claw for every dime, so I valued my savings and hated spending money if I didn’t feel it was necessary. Money to PJ, however, was simply something to be shared with loved ones and those in need. While she was generous to a fault, this loved one was not gracious about accepting.
Cleo and Jackie tore into the living room, interrupting my thoughts. They stopped to rub against my legs and sniff at my briefcase briefly before chasing each other around the paper grocery sack I had left on the floor for their amusement.
Seeing the cats so obviously happy together reminded me of my recent parting with PJ. I wouldn’t ever allow her to leave like that again. Although we had spoken every day while she was away, we’d made no reference to our disagreement or her hasty departure. She sneaked out of the house the morning after our fight in which she’d told me to “get real” and to “grow up,” saying I was “a pigheaded old woman.” That hurt more than anything.
I realized that I’d been oversensitive and, gradually, the hurt had disappeared. I was sure her words were said in the heat of the moment. Human beings should come equipped with pressure valves that automatically shut off before harmful words can explode out of their mouths.
“Oh Pup,” I said, rubbing behind his ear, “we’re all studies in imperfection.”
My thoughts were interrupted again when Jackie crashed into the paper sack and Cleo pounced on top of it and her. We’d bought them all kinds of toys, but nothing amused them more than a plain old grocery sack or a rolled up ball of aluminum foil.
I looked around the sizable living room. Little by little, we were transforming this old house into something that reflected us, our interests and personalities. The walls were now painted a light cream color. There were no drapes. We wanted to capture the pristine quality of the New Mexican light and bring it inside. The blinds we had installed were sufficient to afford us the privacy we needed, when we needed it. Although we had much yet to do, it was feeling more and more like home, the one place where we could be ourselves, alone together in our own private sanctuary.
