Persuaded

by Rachel Schurig

  I fiddled with my shirt cuff. I had every intention of being at the Grand Canyon with my dad on Saturday. I would tell Emma about it later, without the others—

  “Don’t you have plans on Saturday, Annabelle?” Liz asked sweetly. “I thought Marni said you were out of commission all weekend.”

  I sighed. I should have known she’d be eager to criticize me in front of Emma. “Sorry, Emma,” I said. “I’m taking my dad to the Grand Canyon. Remember?”

  She frowned. “Annabelle, this is really important.”

  I felt the familiar swooping desire to not disappoint her but tamped it down. “So is my dad’s visit. And I told you about it weeks ago.”

  “And I told you that I wished he wasn’t coming so close to the presentations. It’s next week, Annabelle.”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Rick watching us. Somehow, it filled me with determination—he was probably wondering how long it would take me to cave. To hell with that.

  “I’m sorry, Emma. I’m not letting him down.”

  “But she’s fine with letting us down,” Liz muttered, just loud enough to carry across the table. I turned to her, remembering how good it had felt to admit to Rick that she was a bitch.

  “Shall we compare diaries, Liz? I’m pretty sure I’ve more than doubled your hours on this project.”

  Clearly pissed, she opened her mouth to argue, but Emma held up a hand. “That’s enough. We’ll just have to go without you, Annabelle.” Her tone made it clear that she wasn’t happy about it, and it sent pang through me that I recognized all too well. But then I thought about how excited my dad was to see the canyon, and how much worse I would feel to disappoint him, and I felt immediately better—and a little surprised at myself. Before yesterday, I wasn’t sure I could have ever said that I was more willing to disappoint Emma than someone else, even if that someone was my father.

  Maybe I was more capable of changing than I had thought.

  As we filed out of the conference room, I watched Liz and Mary whispering to each other. But then Rick stepped between them and me, and I stopped short. “Grand Canyon, huh?”

  I shrugged. “He’s really excited.”

  “Sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than a gallery opening.” He made a face and I laughed.

  “There’s some great hiking.”

  “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I have a friend that runs a tour business in the canyon.”

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded. “John Croft?” He looked a little embarrassed, and I too had to look away. John Croft had been the friend from Oxford that he’d come to Michigan to visit. John Croft had gotten him the job in my dad’s shop.

  “I remember.”

  He nodded, clearly uncomfortable. “Anyhow, he runs adventure tours out there. Really personalizes the tours. I thought you might want his information?”

  “That would be great.” I had only been to the canyon once in all my time here, a day trip with Emma and Mary. They had complained about the heat and the tourists, and we had left after little more than a cursory glance, in search of lunch and a more civilized way to spend the afternoon. “I honestly haven’t had time to plan too much for us to do.”

  “John is great,” he explained, grabbing a pen from the conference table to write down the number. “Just tell him what you want to do, and he’ll design the itinerary for you.”

  “That’s awesome. Thank you, Rick.”

  He handed me the slip of paper and our fingers brushed together accidentally. I couldn’t suppress the little shiver I felt at the touch and was immediately embarrassed. Why did he still affect me this way after so long?

  And why was he suddenly being so nice to me?

  “No problem,” he said, looking away. “I want your dad to have a nice time.”

  I nodded even though he wasn’t looking at me.

  “Well… I should go. Lots of work still to do.” He finally met my eyes again, giving a brief smile, before heading for the door, leaving me alone in the room.

  And very, very confused.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Well, this is just ridiculous,” my dad muttered as we stepped into our room at the Red Vista spa and resort outside Sedona. He turned to stare at me. “I mean, you probably stay in places like this all the time. But for me this is…wow.”

  “It’s pretty wow whoever you are,” I agreed, setting my bag down on the bed and crossing to the open French doors, billowing white curtains blowing in the gentle breeze. “Look at this view!”

  As suggested, I had called Rick’s friend John and told him about the trip. If he remembered me, he didn’t let on. Instead, he was kind and incredibly helpful. When I told him we were planning a simple day trip, he suggested we make a weekend of it instead. “You can see so much more with just a few extra hours,” he had told me. “If it was my dad’s first trip to the canyon, I would want to make sure he got to see as much as possible.”

  I agreed whole-heartedly, and John recommended we take a room at the Red Vista. “There aren’t a lot of options right at the canyon,” he had explained. “But the Vista is a great choice and not too far. We do pick-ups from there, so you don’t even have to worry about transportation.”

  He hadn’t mentioned the stark beauty of the place. I’d been skeptical on the ride in, as the road led us through what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. Red desert stretched in every direction without a house or town in sight. But when we pulled up in front of the Vista, I knew we’d made the right choice. The white adobe-style building was sprawling, red desert surrounding it in every direction. We were met in the drive by a pair of bellhops in casual but neat, white linen uniforms, immediately instilling a sense of laid-back luxury.

  That feeling continued into the lobby where we were met with gleaming bamboo floors and plush chairs and sofas, everything coordinating in creams and light greens. The center point of the lobby was the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side of the room, providing a breathtaking view of the expansive desert around us.

  That same view was featured in our room, and I was filled with a strong desire to lace up my hiking boots as we stared out at the red rock formations in the distance. I turned to my dad, trying to tamp down the urge. This was his big vacation, not mine. “What do you want to do first?”

  “When does our tour start?”

  “Not until two.”

  Since we had a few hours before our first scheduled activity, Dad decided he wanted to chill out by the pool, a suggestion I heartily endorsed. After changing into my suit, I packed a tote bag with some sunscreen, my glasses, and a book. My hand paused over my phone for a long moment, knowing there would be several unanswered emails by now. Or you could just relax, I told myself, leaving the phone on my nightstand. I felt pretty rebellious—and I liked it.

  The hotel pool was every bit as laid back and comfortable as the rest of the property with its teak lounge chairs and thick, white cushions. Roaming waiters served up water and freshly squeezed juice—I would have preferred a margarita, to be perfectly honest, but the spa was clearly going for the health-conscious vibe. I crossed my fingers that there would be wine at dinner, at least.

  “You could get a massage,” I told my dad as we settled into two loungers poolside. There was a little menu of spa services on the table between us, and I plucked it up to read aloud. “Or a seaweed wrap.”

  He scrunched up his nose. “What’s that?”

  I laughed. “Something to do with detoxing, probably.”

  “I think I’m detoxed enough, thanks.”

  I slipped on my sunglasses and relaxed back into the chair, debating whether or not I wanted to get my book out. It felt so nice just to lie in the sunshine. Much more relaxing than my last attempt at sunbathing.

  Of course, that made me think of Rick. I was still reeling from the idea that he wasn’t dating Lucy. She was with Jim! I would have never expected that in a million years.

  And Rick was single
.

  Every time I voiced that thought, my heart rate immediately sped up. It was ridiculous—single or not, nothing had changed between us. He was still just an ex, one who had seemed pretty intent on disliking me for the remainder of our lives.

  But it hadn’t been that way lately. Ever since Lucy’s accident, he hadn’t seemed quite so hard. Was it possible that he had found a way to forgive me for whatever it was that he thought I had done all those years ago?

  It was strange to think of our relationship like that—as something that had happened a decade ago. Logically, I knew that those years had passed, could see all the things that had happened between that day in my driveway and now. I had earned two degrees since seeing Rick last, had moved across country, bought my first place, started a company, dated a dozen guys… But somehow, I couldn’t feel the distance of all of those years. When I closed my eyes, I could still see him, exactly as he had been then.

  Probably because I had never stopped dreaming about him.

  That fact had frustrated me always—that he so often invaded my dreams long after I should have been over him. You weren’t supposed to think of an ex so much, especially not one you hadn’t seen or heard from in years. First love or not—normal people got over these things.

  Had I ever gotten over Rick?

  In spite of the warmth of the desert sun, I felt a chill at the thought. Had I ever gotten over him? I must have. It had been way too long. He had hurt me so badly. He was my first love, a summer fling, just a childish infatuation that I should have put behind me. Right?

  Oh God.

  I could see him, exactly as he had been that summer. Smiling, leaning over me, playing with a strand of my hair while we lounged in the grass. Telling me about the places we would visit, the things we would see. Listening while I dreamed out loud. Telling me I could be anything, anyone that I wanted to be. Had anyone else ever given me that? Had anyone else ever listened to me, about anything? Had anyone else ever seen me?

  I had blamed him for a long time for my inability to connect with any of the guys I dated. His leaving had made me suspicious and untrusting. But what if it was more than that? What if I hadn’t connected with any of those guys because I was still in love with someone else?

  “It’s hot as hell out here,” my dad muttered, making me jump in my seat. I had almost forgotten that he was there. “I think I’m going to jump in that water before I melt.”

  I forced a laugh, wondering if it sounded as strange and shrill to him as it had to me. You need to stop this, I told myself, the words feeling feeble in my spinning mind. Of course you’re not still in love with Rick—it’s been years.

  But I couldn’t silence the niggling little thought in the back of my mind that there was more to our relationship than a youthful summer fling. I pulled out my book to distract myself, re-reading the same page over and over again without taking in a single word. By the time my dad was out of the pool, I jumped at the chance to go to lunch. Anything to distract myself from the growing certainty that my feelings for Rick were much, much more than I wanted to deal with.

  ***

  Rick had been right about one thing—John Croft really did do a great job at setting up tours. One of his guides, a white-haired, tattooed, and bearded man unexpectedly named Girard, picked us up right at the resort, along with a half dozen other guests. I had expected a professional tour guide to be stuffy and boring, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Girard was funny and informative, keeping up a running commentary on what we were seeing out the windows of the van.

  Once we reached the canyon, he told us we would have an hour to explore and take pictures on our own. My dad jumped out of the van, barely waiting for my feet to touch the ground before taking off, clearly eager to get to the rim. Because I had seen the canyon before, I wasn’t expecting to be awed. But I hadn’t seen it with my dad.

  “This is… This is incredible,” he whispered, staring around in every direction.

  I found myself watching his face, rather than the view. His eyes were wide, his mouth open slightly. He kept shaking his head, as if he literally couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  When was the last time a view had affected me like that? I had visited this place and countless others with my friends. Since meeting Emma, I had been exposed to some of the most spectacular sights in the world. The Swiss Alps. The Greek Isles. The French Riviera. New York and Paris. Rome. London. Countless world-class cities. I had seen more of the world than my father ever would, but I had never seen anything with the kind of wonder and excitement that I saw on his face right then.

  “Come on,” he said, not looking at me as he pulled on my hand. “Let’s go up to the edge.”

  I barely said a word for the next hour as we wandered around the viewing area, taking pictures and staring at the unbelievable vista before us. My dad didn’t seem to notice—he was pretty speechless himself. When it was time to meet up with Girard, he seemed to get his voice back, peppering the guide with questions and observations as the group made their way to the learning center for a presentation on culture and history.

  “That was fascinating,” he said excitedly when the talk was over. “I could have stayed there for hours.”

  “You’ll have to come back on your vacation next year,” I said, smiling weakly.

  He bumped my shoulder with his. “But you won’t be here, remember? You’ll be running your hotel in Greece.”

  My smile grew, and I somehow felt better about the whole day after that.

  After the presentation, Girard took us to the boarding site to get on a helicopter for the highlight of our tour. I hated the bumping and jostling of the helicopter, but it didn’t take me long at all to get over that—the views of the canyon from this vantage were so amazing, it was hard to focus on anything else.

  The van ride back to the resort was lively, everyone talking and laughing excitedly about the tour. My dad was quiet again, but the broad grin on his face told me that he had enjoyed our day very much.

  “Are you feeling hungry?” I asked after we had thanked Girard in the driveway of our resort.

  Dad rubbed his stomach. “To be honest, all of that jostling around has my stomach a little queasy.”

  I frowned. “Are you okay? Do you need medicine? I didn’t think to bring Pepto—“

  He held up a hand. “I’m fine. I just think I might want to lie down for a few before we eat.”

  “Okay.” I looked around the grounds, the desert stretching off enticingly. “I think I might walk for a little bit.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nodded. “Absolutely.”

  Before I set off across the grounds, we agreed to meet in the lobby for dinner in an hour. The sun was beginning its descent across the desert, and I had a feeling there might be a spectacular sunset—if the clouds in the distance held off.

  As I walked, I thought about my dad’s expression as he stood on the rim of the canyon for the first time. Seeing him out there had brought home some unpleasant realities about the last few years of my life. When was the last time I was as happy as he seemed there? When was the last time I experienced something that meant something?

  You won’t be here. That’s what he told me. You’ll be in Greece running your hotel. Was he right? Could I really turn it around so quickly? Was I really strong enough to leave this life that I had been building for years and try something new?

  Maybe I had wasted time, wasted opportunities. Maybe seeing something so overwhelming as the Grand Canyon through the eyes of my father had made me see how shallow and empty a lot of my life had been. But that didn’t mean it always had to be that way. Maybe I would be running a hotel in Greece in a year. In just a year, not that much time at all. Maybe everything could be different.

  The clouds were getting closer, darkening the sky around me. I turned back to the resort, not wanting to get stuck out in a storm. As I approached the main driveway, a figure in black came into view. He was tall and broad and there was s
omething decidedly familiar about the set of his shoulders. I squinted against the gathering dimness. He really did look familiar—

  “Rick?”

  The figure was finally close enough to make out his face—and he looked incredibly uncomfortable.

  “Hey,” he said, stopping a few feet in front of me. “I wondered if I might run into you.”

  It was so unexpected, seeing him here, hours away from Vegas. He was supposed to be at the gallery opening, with everyone else. Plus, he knew I was going to be here. Why on earth…

  “What are you doing here?” I finally managed to get out.

  He looked extremely uncomfortable. “I, well. When I called John to tell him to expect your call, he asked me why I hadn’t been out to see his set up yet. It seems silly to spend so much time in Vegas and never see the Grand Canyon, you know? And I never did get a chance to catch up with your dad, of course, and with him leaving in a few days…”

  He was actually fidgeting as he talked. I didn’t think I had ever seen him fidget before. Much like during the crisis in L.A., seeing him uncomfortable had the effect of making me feel calm.

  “I think that’s great,” I said, smiling up at him. “It’s been amazing so far. John does a fantastic job out here.”

  He breathed out, seeming to relax himself, and smiled. “I thought he might.”

  A great crack of thunder sounded behind him, making me jump. “That storm is getting closer,” I said, peering up at the dark sky. “We should probably get inside.”

  “I was hoping it would hold off until sunset.” He peered at the horizon where the sun was steadily dropping lower and lower. “The best sunsets happen when there are clouds in the sky.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah, definitely. The clouds give the sun a canvas to paint on. Look—”