by Linda Style
She stopped once she realized how quiet the Jeep was, and when she turned to look at Cole, he was leaning back in the seat with his eyes closed. “Oh-kay. So much for how I learned. Maybe it’s best if I tell you about each place when we get there.”
“I was listening,” Sam said. “It’s interesting.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I like research. I studied the Native American culture of this area when I was in school, but I never learned anything about this vortex stuff.”
Sam, with his headband, dark hair, dark eyes and olive complexion, could have passed for a Native American.
“Keep on talking,” he said.
“Okay.” She realized the road was just up ahead. “Turn at Red Rock Road. That’s the next one on the left.”
When they were on the road, she said, “People say that the drive down this road is a descent into the heart of Sedona, and Red Rock Crossing is the best vortex location for meditation. One of the reasons is the water of Oak Creek, which is supposed to help soothe and release hurtful feelings and assist in cleansing a meditator’s aura…and spark new beginnings.” She dug into her bag. “I brought a book for you that explains it all in more depth. That way, you can decide how much information you want to include in the tours. If it were me, I’d keep the talk to the basics and elaborate when the people ask questions.”
She heard a rustling sound behind her, and then Cole suddenly leaned forward, his head between hers and Sam’s. “Maybe I can hire you to do a vortex tour or two for the company, Serena,” Cole said. “I doubt I’ll ever be able to spout all that mumbo jumbo.”
She was sure truer words had never been spoken. “Sam will do a great job for you.”
After arriving at Red Rock Crossing, where she explained how vortex “sensitives” claimed each vortex strengthened a specific polarity in the body, mind and spirit, such as intuition, patience, kindness and self-confidence, they went on to the next site. She kept on task, detailing what she thought was important for Sam to know—masculine and feminine vortexes, negative and positive, magnetic and electric, and she even expounded on Native American medicine wheels, which worked in combination with the vortexes. Sam continued to ask questions. Cole, on the other hand, just kept watching her, his eyes riveted on her mouth, her eyes, her hands, and when he insisted on walking behind her, she knew exactly where his eyes were.
Nearly three hours later when they reached Airport Mesa, the last vortex site on the tour, Serena plopped herself on an iron-red slab of rock and kicked at the loose stones near her feet. A powdery puff of crimson dust floated upward over her boots and clung to her jeans.
She’d forgotten how relentless the sun could be and savored the respite offered by the shade of the gnarly juniper and rangy mesquite. Tired from hiking, climbing and nonstop talking, she sucked in a breath of pure mountain air. Not for the first time, the heavy scent of piñyon reminded her of the nights when she and Cole would lie outside on a blanket staring at the star-studded sky—and the stars used to look so close, she could’ve almost touched them. Nights better left forgotten.
Driving back, Sam said, “I can’t imagine growing up in a place like this. Did you guys ever come out here to, like, party and stuff when you were in school?”
Cole laughed, his eyes latching on to hers. His voice went husky when he said, “Did we ever. We did a lot of stuff.”
“Some of us did,” Serena said, turning businesslike again.
“You guys were really lucky,” Sam said. “I froze my butt off in Michigan.”
“That’s where you’re from?” Serena was surprised at the revelation. She’d asked him previously, but he’d just brushed the question aside.
“Detroit. But I got out of there as soon as I could.”
Serena saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
“Hey,” Sam said. “Are there any places around to pan for gold?”
“Yep. But it’s a little west of here,” Cole said. “Around the turn of the century, there was a big gold rush around Prescott in the Bradshaw Mountains.”
“Silver,” Serena said. “More silver mining than gold.” She remembered how Ryan always dragged her along to pan for placer gold. Several times they’d found little flakes and chips that had washed down from the mountains after a rain or snow melt higher up. Serena smiled to herself. Tales of hidden riches in the Bradshaws had always fascinated her brother, and once, before she’d started dating Cole, she and Ryan and some other friends had gone into a couple of the old mines. She shivered just thinking about how dangerous that had been, yet they’d blithely gone ahead. No fear, no nothing. “There was a lot of copper mining, too,” Serena said. “Near Jerome. That’s one of your tours, isn’t it?” She looked at Cole.
“Of course,” Cole said. “Ryan likes to do that one and Sam’s already more knowledgeable about the area than I am.”
She agreed. He seemed to be. Inordinately so. “What brought you here, Sam? Why are you so interested in the area?”
He shrugged. “It just seems like a great place, and since I was born here, I thought I’d check it out.”
“Really,” Serena said, trying to remember anyone with the name Sinclair. “Did your parents live here?”
“I guess. At least for a while. I was adopted, though, so I don’t know for sure.”
Serena felt a stab in her gut. He couldn’t be her son because he was too old. But there might come a day when her child would want to find her. Or Cole.
THE NEXT MORNING SERENA stretched to get out the kinks in her legs. She was stiff from all the walking they’d done yesterday. She kicked off the down comforter and glanced at the clock: 6:00 a.m. Plenty of time to have coffee, read the Sunday paper and make the early church service. Her parents had never thought much of going to church, and consequently, neither she nor Ryan had had any religious education. Not until she’d made her decision to give her baby up for adoption had she begun attending regularly.
Then, after moving, renovating the house and getting the café up and running, she’d gotten out of the habit, and now only went sporadically. But after yesterday, she felt a desire again.
She stretched, trying to decide. She could just stay in bed and do a crossword puzzle; only, she knew how futile that would be when all she could think of was Cole. And whether she should tell him about the baby. There didn’t seem to be any point in telling him. So why did she feel this guilty?
Ridiculous. She rolled over, threw her feet off the bed and sat up. Lying here perseverating about things she had no control over was useless. She went into the kitchen, made coffee, took a quick shower and headed for church.
Afterward, she stopped outside for a moment to talk to Travis Gentry, the vet. She’d been surprised to hear he was getting married soon. “I hear congratulations are in order, Trav,” Serena said. He was Serena’s age, and the youngest of the three boys in the Gentry family. His sister Ginny was a year younger than him.
“We’ll see,” Trav said.
She looked at him sideways. “That’s a strange thing to say. You’re supposed to be excited.”
“Have you ever planned a wedding?” he asked.
Serena felt a little tick in her chest. He didn’t mean her literally, since he didn’t know anything about her wedding to Brett and why.
“It’s amazing anyone actually gets married after making wedding plans,” he went on.
She laughed. “Everything will work out. In the end, you’ll be delighted that you have something so special to remember.”
“Travis.” Serena turned to find Amelia Gentry, Travis’s grandmother, barreling toward them.
“Uh-oh,” Travis said. “I gotta go. Nice running into you, Serena.”
Serena, too, was about to leave, when Mrs. Gentry came over. “Well, I’m surprised you’re here, Serena.”
Serena smiled, abruptly feeling compelled to explain why she didn’t attend church more often. But her rebellious streak prevailed and she didn’t.
“
Considering your behavior.”
“Excuse me?”
Mrs. Gentry leaned closer, as if what she was about to say was confidential. “At the festival. Doing things like that can be bad for business, if you know what I mean.”
Drawing back, Serena couldn’t believe her ears. But then she wasn’t sure what the woman was talking about. The fight with Ryan? The dance with Cole, or getting involved in Ellen and Dan Fletcher’s marital discord? “I don’t know what things you’re referring to. And my business is just fine.”
Suddenly, Serena became aware that half the congregation had huddled around to watch them, including Pastor Donaldson. Serena gazed at the crowd and smiled. “Just a little fun discussion,” she said, then turned on her heel and headed for the parking area.
Her blood pumping, she climbed into her van and decided to visit Natalia. She needed to vent and her friends were always there to listen. Except, Natalia was on call, she recollected. She might not be home.
She got in and started driving anyway. Natalia lived in a hillside condo outside of town, just a couple of blocks from where Ryan lived. She hadn’t talked to him yet, either. In fact, she’d barely talked to him since Cole had come back and insinuated himself into all their lives. She’d go to Ryan’s instead.
Even though her brother had said things were fine, she’d intuited that something wasn’t right. It was the same intuition she’d had when they were kids. A sixth sense, almost. Like the day he’d fallen from the tree and hit his head. Everyone had thought she was wacky when she said that Ryan was in trouble. If she hadn’t insisted on trying to find him, he might have died.
Lately, she’d had that same feeling. And the fact that Ry seemed to get riled these days at the drop of a dime didn’t help. Maybe he wasn’t all that happy with Cole around helping out. But if he wasn’t, that was easy to take care of. Maybe the issue was Ryan’s girlfriend. Maybe, maybe, maybe. She had no information from Ryan, but she knew in her gut something was amiss.
She picked up her cell, hit the speed dial for Ryan’s number and listened as the phone rang and rang. Odd that his answering machine hadn’t kicked in. Maybe he was working? She called Ryan’s office. No answer there, either, but she left a message that she was trying to find him…and that it was important.
She was coming up on his street, tried his number again and after five rings he still hadn’t answered. For sure something wasn’t right.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“RYAN?” SERENA KNOCKED again. She tried to recall the last time they’d spoken. After the jazz festival, she was sure. But that had been a while. When he didn’t answer the door, she decided to use the key he’d given her after he’d moved in.
“Ryan? Are you here? It’s Serena,” she said as she stepped inside, then immediately tripped over something in the entryway. She let a sigh of exasperation. Ryan might have changed in some ways, but he was still as untidy as ever.
“Ryan?” She wove her way around the mess and went into the living room, and as her eyes adjusted to the low level of light, she cringed. The whole place was a mess.
The blinds were closed, but she could see tinfoil on the windows behind those that faced west, reminding her how their mom used to cover the windows in their trailer to keep the Arizona sun from turning the trailer into an oven. She couldn’t remember if that had worked, since winter was the only time the tin box wasn’t hot.
She heard banging, then saw the arcadia doors to the small balcony off the dining area agape, blinds flapping against the frame.
Dammit, Ryan. When are you ever going to be responsible?
Resignedly, she crossed the room to shut the sliding door, and as she did, she had the oddest feeling. The apartment was excessively messy. Empty pizza boxes, beer bottles and half-filled chip bags were strewn on the floor, the counters, even the couch.
She swung around, glancing from one side of the room to the other. Mess everywhere. And the dust on the furniture she could’ve written her name on it. She sucked in a deep breath. Ryan’s laziness had gotten worse.
Disappointment switched to anger, then weariness settled in her chest. More than once she’d wanted to let Ryan sink or swim on his own. All the experts said that was what she should do. Her friends said it; even her mother had said it. Serena had done that once and it had almost cost Ryan his life. Years ago when they’d lived in Phoenix, at Brett’s urging, she’d told Ryan she couldn’t help him anymore. He’d simply gotten worse, and after he was evicted from his apartment, he’d been homeless. She hadn’t known until he was in the hospital with hepatitis. He’d almost died, and if he had…She shook her head. No way. She’d never do it again.
She picked up a couple of pizza boxes and took them to the kitchen. As she set them on the counter, a strange feeling washed over her and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She wasn’t alone. She whirled. A man stood silhouetted in the open doorway. She screamed. In the same instant, she recognized the hat.
Cole. “Oh, God!” she spat. “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry.” He sauntered in. “The door was ajar and I thought someone might be burglarizing the place.”
Her hands shook as she attempted to stuff some pizza boxes in the trash, but the garbage can was too full to take any more. She went back into the living room and grabbed a couple of tins from the floor. Struggling to act nonchalant, she asked, “What are you doing here?” She stopped, put her hands on her hips and glanced around again. If she cleaned up the apartment, it would just end up the same way again.
“Trying to find Ryan. He took some people out yesterday and hasn’t come back.” He frowned. “I figured he just went home afterward, or decided to go somewhere else when he was done. But when he didn’t show today and I couldn’t get him on the phone—” He shrugged. “I figured he’d call if something happened, but he hasn’t, so I didn’t know what to think, and then I heard your message and came over to find Ryan.”
She didn’t know what to think, either. In the past, Ryan had disappeared for days; once he was gone a week. Her hair had flopped down in her face when she’d bent over, so she pushed it back. “Well, he’s not here, and I haven’t talked to him.” Her nerves tensed. “Did he say which tour he was doing?”
“The Jerome, and I think Montezuma’s Castle.”
“Those are pretty safe trips. And Ryan being Ryan, I find it hard to get too concerned.”
Cole frowned. “What do you mean?”
His response surprised her. “You’re good friends. You know how he is.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t. How is he?”
What was he saying? Cole knew exactly what Ryan was like. Or at least, he used to. “Doesn’t matter. I just thought…hoped he might be different with you working there.”
He looked even more surprised. “Oh? In what way?”
“I—I’m not sure. I just thought he’d—” She shook her head, suddenly not wanting to say what she thought. Expressing her feelings seemed intimate, somehow. And she and Cole weren’t.
Ryan had always idolized Cole. Had wanted desperately for Cole to like him, think of him as his equal. She could see why. Cole was a man’s man, every bit the gun-slinging cowboy and polished businessman rolled into one. He’d shoved his hat to the back of his head and his dusty-blond hair appeared purposefully messy, just like some of the models’ in GQ magazine. Except Cole would never spend time pampering himself. Besides, his hair had looked much the same thirteen years ago, before messy hair had become popular.
“I think we should report him missing,” Cole insisted. “Get someone to begin searching for him.”
She sighed. “This isn’t unusual, Cole. He’s done this so many times I want to wring his neck. I’d just thought that with you here, he was starting to get his act together.”
But don’t take that as a compliment.
Cole’s eyes were riveted to hers and she felt compelled to get the hell out of there. She waved a hand to dismiss the subject. “Maybe he just seemed b
etter to me because I wanted him to be.”
Cole said, “We shouldn’t leave Ryan’s return to chance. What if the Jeep broke down? You know phone reception is bad in the mountains.”
The switchbacks through Oak Creek Canyon and those near Jerome were some of the steepest and most treacherous if someone wasn’t paying attention. “What about the people he took along? You must have a number where they can be reached, a credit card with their names. You could call to see if they got home.”
He kept staring at her, his gaze traveling from her head to her toes, lingering on certain parts, then slowly rising again until his cool blues honed in on her mouth. He moistened his lips.
Her stomach clenched.
“I could,” he finally said, then gave her a sheepish grin. “Dumb of me not to think of it.”
“Good,” she quickly said. “Will you let me know?”
He tipped his hat. “Why, I’d be happy to, ma’am.”
Her cheeks warmed. She turned away. “Thanks. I’m going to clean up a bit here. Just leave a message on my phone at the café, will you?” She hoped he got the message to leave. Now.
He grinned. “Sure thing, kiddo.” Then he pivoted and, as he left, said over his shoulder, “I’ll be in touch.”
She slammed the door and leaned against it, blood pumping hot through her veins. What was it about him that got her so flustered? So…hot. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to let it get the best of her.
She went back into the kitchen, got out a plastic garbage bag, grabbed some trash and jammed it inside. She’d filled one bag and started another, when she heard something behind her.
“You checking up on me?”
Serena jumped. Looking up, she saw Ryan standing in the entryway, his clothes torn and dirty, blood on his face. A motley-looking guy, one she’d seen at the jazz festival, stood behind him. “Ryan, what on earth—”
