by Brynne Asher
“I am a pilot, Gabby.”
“But that can’t be the same as flying these planes. Do you fly these little planes?”
“Yes, it’s pretty much the same and yes I fly these planes. Come on, I’ve got to go through preflight and we have a scheduled take off. Get your stuff.” With that, he grabs my suitcase heading out the backdoor leaving me standing here with my two additional carry-on bags and a nosy attendant who is listening to our entire conversation. Pulling myself together, I grab my bags and hurry after Jude. He’s about twenty yards ahead of me, throwing my suitcase in the back of an itty-bitty-tiny-little-airplane. Well, its itty-bitty compared to all other airplanes I’ve ever flown in.
“Did you rent this?” I ask.
“No, a friend of mine owns it, we were in the Force together. He’s letting me borrow it for the weekend.”
He starts doing all kinds of things around the plane and since I have only gotten on a plane through a jet way, I decide to stand here awaiting instruction. He finishes and says, “Alright, load up.”
He’s holding the door open for me to climb in. Jude takes my carry-on bags and throww them in the back.
I decide I should start finding out as much as I can about our mode of transportation, so I ask, “What kind of plane is this?”
“Cessna 172 Skyhawk.”
“Huh.” That means nothing to me. “Do they, um, have a good safety rating? You know, like that insurance institute does with cars? Although, I’m sure they don’t crash these with dummies in them to see how well they stand up. I’ve seen lots of plane crashes on the news, planes crashing to the ground never fare well,” I ramble.
“Babe.” He tries to get my attention away from the enormous instrument panel in front of me that is overwhelming my brain. “Gabby, look at me.” I finally look away from the gadgets and gizmos to give him my eyes. He then asks me in a really nice, low and raspy voice, “Do you think I would do everything I could to keep you safe for weeks from a gun trafficker only to put you in a plane that I’m flying and put you at risk?”
“Probably not,” I mutter, gazing back at the gadgets and gizmos.
“Gabby.” I look back at him again. “It’s safer than driving. We’ll be fine.”
“Oookaaay,” I drawl. Jude chuckles and returns to the gizmos. “Wait,” I yell thinking of something important. “Do we have enough gas? It’s not like we can just pull over and fill up.”
Laughing at me now, he says, “It’s fuel and yes we’re topped off. I have to check it in preflight. Now buckle up, you’re making us late for takeoff.”
I guess knowing we have enough fuel makes me feel better. Jude cranks up our little plane and taxis us to the end of the runway. Man, this sucker is loud compared to big planes. While he’s doing this he says, “It should take us between two and a half to three hours. Settle in.”
Holy smokes. As I say a silent prayer for safety, Jude speeds our little plane down the runway and we lift into the air. Watching the ground get smaller and smaller I realize my surprise birthday weekend getaway has barely begun and Jude is certainly full of surprises. Well, one thing I know is for certain. I’m not sleeping in a tent tonight.
We flew southwest in our little plane. I knew this because during the flight, which honestly wasn’t that bad once I settled in and got used to it, Jude gave me the low down of every instrument. He even let me steer for a few minutes. Now, would I be able to fly or land our itty-bitty-tiny-little plane if he passed out from being too good looking or bossy? No. But I do know how to read a compass, so it was easy to tell that we were heading southwest.
Jude still hasn’t given me any hints as to where we are going, but I am intuitive enough to figure out that we are to going to Colorado since the landscape changed from flat and boring to mountainous on the horizon. I’ve been to Colorado in the winter on ski trips with my youth group when I was younger, so it should be different being here with no snow. But more importantly, since Jude is from Colorado, I am super excited to see what he has planned.
We just landed at another airstrip and Jude is taxiing the plane. I turn to him as my ears are popping like crazy. “Okay. I know we are in a city in Colorado. Are you going to make me look for signs or are you going to tell me where we are?”
Smiling as he messes with some things on the instrument panel, he says, “Alright, Gabby.” He turns to me and continues, “We’re just west of Denver, but we aren’t staying here. Let’s go.”
He gets all of our bags and I follow him, doing the reverse of what we did in Omaha, going into a little building from the back. He talks to another attendant—more paper work and he turns to grab my hand pulling me out the front door. It’s cooler here than it was at home so I’m feeling grateful Jude bought me my puffy pink vest.
Walking me out to the parking lot, I look up and see an older Jude-like looking person leaning up against a Jeep Cherokee. He’s looking at us—but mainly at me. I stop in my tracks and pull on Jude’s hand.
“What?” he asks.
“Who’s that?” I whisper.
“That’s my dad. Come on, I’ll introduce you. Trust me, he’s not nearly as overwhelming as your family.”
Too shocked to think of a come back to his gentle jab at the Carpinos, he yanks me forward. Letting me go, he gives his dad a man hug with a slap on the back then turns back to take my hand. “Gabby, this is my dad, Rick. Dad, Gabrielle Carpino.”
Rick Ortiz is just as tall as Jude with the same dark hair but his is speckled with gray around his temples and cut shorter. He looks like he used to be built like Jude, but the years have made him softer. He’s wearing business casual clothing with an older black leather bomber jacket that looks great, one of those jackets that looks better with wear. He gives me a guarded look with a small smile and sticks out his hand. “Gabrielle.”
Dropping Jude’s hand to take his, I respond, “Please, Gabby. It’s so nice to meet you.”
Rick continues to look at both Jude and I now and I’m wondering what this is all about. He turns to Jude and tosses him some keys. “A friend from work is picking me up. It’s all yours for the weekend, just lock the keys in it under the seat on Monday and I’ll be by to get it later.” He lets out a breath, looking like he’s trying to relax and goes on, “Do you have time? I’ll take you to lunch before you head up.”
Jude squeezes my hand he reclaimed and looking down at me then back to his dad, he says, “Next time. We’ve got some stops to make on the way and have to get going. We’ll plan more time next trip so we can spend some time together.”
Smiling, looking more genuine and relaxed now, Rick says, “I understand. Enjoy your weekend.” Looking at me he goes on, “Happy birthday, Gabby.”
I’m surprised Jude told him it was my birthday. “Oh, thanks. It’s so nice to meet you.” Jude loads up the Jeep and after saying one more goodbye to Rick, we head out.
People aren’t usually uncomfortable around me and I can usually make friends with a tree stump, so the whole semi-tense introduction was weird. As Jude makes our way out of the parking lot and through the city streets, I start, “Your dad seems nice. You look like him.”
“Yeah, I think the Puerto Rican genes won out. My brother and I favor my dad.”
“It’s nice of him to loan us his car, do you fly out here often?” I ask, wanting to know as much as I can.
“No, I usually drive, but it’s almost ten hours in the car and we only have a couple of days, I didn’t want to cut into our time with the drive. Plus, my friend lets me use his plane as often as I like, he doesn’t have much time to fly. That’s why we stopped at his office this morning, I needed to get the keys,” he goes on to explain our morning.
Realizing how he really went above and beyond to arrange things for me this weekend, I say, “Thank you for everything. I don’t even know what we’re doing or where we’re going, but you’ve done so much already.”
Taking my hand and pulling it to his mouth, kissing my fingers, he says as he looks to the road, “No pr
oblem, sugar.”
We make our way through Denver and start an incline on a four-lane highway. We are really making our way up into the mountains, driving through tiny towns and as you look up there are mountain homes and cabins peeking up out of the evergreens. Jude pulls into a Safeway and parks the Jeep.
“Can you wait another twenty minutes for lunch? We need to grab some stuff for the weekend.”
I was definitely hungry but could wait thirty minutes. As we enter the store, Jude gets two carts and pushing one to me starts bossing, “You get your salad shit, whatever other fruits and vegetables you want. I’m going to the meat counter. Get whatever you want to eat with steaks, pork chops, and hamburgers. You’ve got fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you at the checkout.”
“Fifteen minutes?” Seriously, is this the Grocery Game or something? “I need more time than fifteen minutes.”
He leans down and kisses me—like that’s going to make me shop faster—and continues to boss, “Fifteen. See you at the checkout.”
And he’s off.
Realizing that he is not going to give me more time, I speed my way through the produce section, trying to think of everything we will need for four days and three nights. I even make it to the condiment aisle, grab my favorite dressings, croutons and even some bacon pieces. Then to the baking aisle for nuts and craisins, wondering if Jude has thought about a dessert since it sounds like we will be cooking all weekend. I get box mixes for a streusel cake and brownies, not homemade, but not bad either.
Wondering if I have used up my precious fifteen minutes, but not really caring because I’m pretty sure he won’t leave me at a Safeway in a mountain town, I speed-shop myself to the beauty aisle. I didn’t know we were coming to such an arid climate, so I pick out some new lip balm, hand lotion, and just in case we are outside, some sunscreen. Everyone knows you’re closer to the sun in the mountains and I’ll fry.
Figuring I’ve used up my allotted time plus some and thinking I would suck at the Grocery Game, I push my cart to the checkout. Jude is standing there leafing through a Sports Illustrated and only his eyes rise to me as I approach. Not saying anything but shaking his head as he puts away his magazine and pulls my cart in front of his in the checkout. I see that Jude’s cart is even fuller than mine—he would totally rock at the Grocery Game. Along with all the meat he listed off, he has bread, lunch meat, eggs, my favorite coffee, milk, creamer, cheeses, cinnamon rolls in a tube, yogurt, jarred dips, crackers, two bags of chips, a lot of beer, and two bottles of cabernet.
“You’re a very efficient shopper, you know,” I comment on his shopping skills.
Taking this as a compliment, he mutters, “Thanks.”
As we leave the grocery store, Jude says, “We’ll stop for a quick bite. It’s cool enough, the groceries should be good. They don’t have salads, but they do have great BBQ sandwiches and fish tacos made with fresh trout. Is that okay with you?”
“Sounds great. Anything’s fine,” I respond thinking this is different, being in new surroundings with Jude, on his turf and not mine.
We eat our lunch—the fish tacos are delish although I could have eaten anything I was so hungry. We quickly load back up and Jude starts telling me about where we are. “This Grand Lake, it’s small, but near Rocky Mountain National Park. Once we get up a little higher, you’ll be able to see mountain ranges that go on forever. We’ll be outside of Grade Lake.”
Realizing that Jude is in his element, I ask, “Do you spend a lot of time here? It seems like you know it like the back of your hand.”
Looking at me a beat, he simply says, “Yeah.”
We drive even higher into the mountains for a few miles before turning off onto a dirt road. Driving another mile or so, we stop and Jude gets out, unlocks a swinging gate, opens it, gets back in to drive through. Then he gets out locking it back up. We drive on a narrow dirt road, winding back and forth until the trees open up to a clearing and we come up to a mountain home. Much larger than what I would consider a cabin, it has a two-car garage attached to the fully log covered home. The house is two stories with a small covered front porch and a steep green metal roof. You can tell from the clearing that the house has amazing views from the back.
Jude turns to me. “We’re here.”
Smiling big and wanting to see more, I lean up, kiss him quick letting out a little, “Yay!” and hop out of the Jeep.
Grabbing as many grocery sacks as I can, I skip up to the front door to wait for Jude to follow me with his own load of groceries. Unlocking and swinging the door open, he pushes me through a mud room, mostly empty with only a short bench on one wall, then through another entryway. I look immediately through the home and out the vast wall of windows through the back of the house that go clear to the vaulted second story. It’s great architecture but I don’t see anything else for the view. The view that goes on for what seems like forever with mountains decorating the horizon. It’s a view that you could look at for a lifetime and never fully appreciate its beauty.
Jude pulls me out of my Rocky Mountain Trance. “That’s Indian Peaks.”
I turn to my left and look at him in a large kitchen that needs updating. It’s a walk-through with a long island separating it from the great room. The counters are the ugliest laminate I’ve ever seen and the appliances have been around a few decades but the light pine cabinets still look to be in great shape.
Looking back to the amazing view, there is a deep deck running the length of the house with some plastic deck chairs and a covered grill. I notice the furniture is older, too, but still comfortable looking. In front of me between the kitchen and great room is an old oak round kitchen table with chairs that don’t match. There is a forest green sofa with two club chairs in a manly plaid in the great room, all centered for maximum viewing potential in front of a big flat screen TV mounted on the side wall between two side windows. The best part about the great room is the enormous, very tall and very wide antler chandelier hanging from beams in the vaulted ceiling. I never knew such an antler chandelier could be so beautiful. I haven’t seen the rest yet, but this area of the house is very spacious and could use a lot more furniture.
“What do you think?”
“The view is amazing and the house is great,” I answer with meaning. “Did you rent it or borrow it for the weekend?” I ask while looking down a hall to my right and I’m wondering where the doors lead.
“No babe, I didn’t rent it. This is my cabin.”
I swing my head around to look at him and he’s standing in the kitchen, leaning on the island.
“This is your house?” I whisper.
“It’s just a cabin.”
“Jude.” I make my way through the room and around the island to him. “This is no cabin. A cabin is a tiny little hut that has a bed in the middle of the room with a kitchenette. This is a mountain home. It’s yours?”
Grinning at me now, he says, “I know better than to argue with you, Gabby.” I make it to him and put my arms around his waist and he pulls me in the rest of the way and finishes, “But, yeah, it’s mine.”
“How long have you owned it?”
“About six years. This is only a short drive from Denver and we would come here on trips when I was young. I’m not big on touristy Colorado ski towns but this is out of the way, so when I was looking to buy, this is where I wanted to be. Even though I don’t live close, my dad is here to help me look after it and I come as often as I can. I’d rather pay for this and keep a crap condo or apartment wherever I live knowing I have this to come to.”
“Wow.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” He leans down to kiss me. “Do you want to see the rest?”
“Are you kidding? Of course.”
We go up to a huge loft that juts out over the kitchen and part of the great room. There isn’t much in the loft, a card table with some chairs. Off the loft is a small hallway and going both left and right are nice size empty bedrooms. Between the rooms is a full bathroom. Go
ing back downstairs, Jude takes me to the basement that is a walk out to the lower level patio under the deck upstairs, but the basement itself isn’t finished. It looks like there could be another family room, a guest room and full bath, leaving room for storage.
Going back upstairs, just beyond the great room on the back of the house is Jude’s master. It’s large, with French doors leading to the deck and a king size bed that is made of big pine logs. His bed seems to be the only newer piece of furniture I’ve seen because it sits with an old oak dresser and one nightstand. The master bath is off the bedroom and seems to have been refinished recently. It has a big corner Jacuzzi tub, separate vanities and a large shower with coordinating tile matching the grey, green, and black slate flooring. Off the bathroom is a small walk in closet and now I realize why Jude only brought a feather light gym bag. There are plenty of clothes hanging and folded in there to get him through the weekend and then some.
I turn to him. “Thank you for bringing me here.” I fit myself to his front and lean up to kiss his jaw. Looking into his melty eyes, I go on. “Thank you for everything.”
Jude leans down to kiss me, starts walking forward, backing me out of the bathroom. I feel the backs of my legs hit his bed, he pulls me in deep for a kiss, and before I know it, his hands are in my armpits picking me up tossing me onto the bed. Letting out a surprised scream, I try to right myself as he pulls off my shoes. His hands come to the button on my jeans and he grins. “I’ve been looking forward to having you here, Gabby. In my cabin, my bed.”
“It’s a mountain home, Jude, and I could have been looking forward to it too, if I knew it existed.” I say as he yanks my jeans off by the bottom hem, pulling my panties down with them. “You’re full of secrets, Jude Ortiz. What else do I need to know about you?”
Jude stills for a nanosecond before he pulls my legs apart and puts a knee to the bed leering over me. “There’s not much more to me that this, sugar.”
My hands go to the hem of his long sleeve t-shirt and he bends to help me get it off. Then he whips off my sweater and bra but my hands go to the button on his jeans. He stands up to help me, pulling them down taking his boxers and socks with them. Crawling back up over me, he slows down, looks into my eyes and traces my hairline with his fingers. Leaning down, he kisses me softly as his right hand finds my left, pulling it up and over my head, pressing my hand into the bed. With our fingers entwined, Jude makes love to me in the Rocky Mountains. And he does it slow, sweet, and perfect.
