by Gerri Hill
“Well, if you ever got off this mountain and took a vacation, you could go visit. I’m sure your parents would love to see you,” her mother said.
Kyler and her mother exchanged glances and Lexie recognized the gentle nudging of her mother’s words. It was obvious that Kyler was a part of the family. At that moment, Lexie felt like an outsider and Kyler seemed much more like the daughter than she was. Her father seemed to sense her withdrawal and he called to her.
“Lexie, come tell me about your drive out.”
“It was uneventful,” she said, her words a bit clipped.
She still held the deer in her hands, and she moved to the tree, finding a spot on the side for him. She was feeling out of sorts all of a sudden. Like she didn’t belong. Like she was a stranger. Like—
“I have to work tomorrow, but I’m off on Sunday. Why don’t I show you around?”
Lexie blinked at Kyler, then shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m sure my mother will have stuff for me to do. I’ll need to start learning the ropes sooner or later.”
“Oh, no, honey. It’s Sunday. You go with her,” her mother insisted. “It’ll be good for you to get out.”
She turned pleading eyes to Mark, but he only gave her a subtle wink. “It’ll be more fun with Kyler showing you around than me.”
“But—”
“You’ll be back by noon,” he said. “I’ve never known Kyler to miss kickoff.”
“What’s on the menu?” Kyler asked.
“I’m doing wings and nachos.” He turned to her. “You’ll come too, of course. It’s an all-day affair when Kyler has Sunday off.”
She let out a sigh. She supposed it wouldn’t be so bad. Kyler was obviously a part of their group and would be around a lot, by the sound of it. She might as well get to know her. Besides, she loved football.
“Okay. Look forward to it.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up early. Set your alarm.”
She frowned. “How early?”
“Before sunrise. Still dark. I’ll pick you up about six thirty. So get to bed early.”
“No. That’s insane.”
“Oh, you’re taking her up Skyline Drive?” Her mother patted her arm. “That’s a wonderful idea, Kyler.”
At her blank stare, Kyler explained. “To see the sunrise.”
“The sunrise,” she repeated dryly. “Umm, no. Not happening.”
“Yes. You’ll love it.”
“I don’t think so.”
Kyler only smiled at her. “Six thirty.”
Chapter Eleven
Kyler drove the familiar winding road between the state park and the lodge. From what she’d learned from Tammy, the road in the park originally ended just past the picnic area where Cottonwood Creek dumped into Limpia Creek. The owners of the lodge at the time struck a deal with the park service. They’d pay to extend the road onto their property, thus giving the campers and staff access to the restaurant and bar without having to drive outside the park and take the main road up the mountain. It was only a handful of miles as it was, but with the road extended, their business at the restaurant nearly doubled. And the park was able to afford to add more hiking trails around the creek. That was some sixty years ago or more. The park service maintained the road now and there was no evidence that it had once been a dead end.
She slowed as she saw movement on the side of the road. Two deer darted across, flashing through her headlights. She paused, waiting, and sure enough, two more followed. She knew the curves well after making this trip almost daily. If she wasn’t going to the bar, she was going to Mark’s house. At first, it was to his tiny apartment, although they tended to hang out at her place more often back then. Once he built his cabin, they took turns hosting dinner and get-togethers, but his place—which was up the hill from the lodge—afforded them more privacy—and a large deck—than her state park cabin did.
As she wound her way around the lodge and to the back, she wondered at her offer to show Lexie around. It had been made without much consideration on her part. Lexie had had such a forlorn look on her face—a look that said she felt terribly out of place. Part of that was her fault, she knew. She should have declined Susan’s offer and let them have some family time. It was Lexie’s first night there. Kyler shouldn’t have interfered. But she did, so she felt somewhat responsible. Showing her around—and getting to know her—seemed like the least she could do.
She parked beside an unfamiliar car that she assumed was Lexie’s. A dark Honda, four-door. Charcoal or black. It was hard to tell, even with the porch light on. She got out of her Jeep and went to the door, knocking loudly.
“Rise and shine,” she called.
The door was jerked open and a sleepy-eyed Lexie Walton glared at her. “This so better be worth it.”
“I told you to go to bed early.”
“I’ve been unemployed.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. “I’m used to staying up well after midnight and sleeping in.” Lexie closed the door, then paused. “Do I need anything?”
Kyler glanced over the hooded sweatshirt she wore and jacket that was slung across her arm. “No. The hoodie should be enough. After the sunrise, we’ll swing back down here and get some coffee from Mark, then I’ll take you on a scenic tour. You’ll love it.”
“Can’t wait,” she mumbled.
Kyler laughed. “I had your same attitude when I first got here. I wanted to be anywhere but here. Mark got tired of my whining and took me on an all-day trip. Ended up down in Big Bend. Slept in back of his truck after we tried to kill off a bottle of tequila.” She shuddered. “I can’t drink the stuff to this day.” She politely opened the passenger door and stepped back. “It was fantastic, though. We were serenaded by coyotes most of the night.” She closed the door when Lexie got in and she hurried to her side. Oh, yeah. Lexie Walton was a cutie—sleepy eyes and all.
“You warm enough?” she asked when they pulled away.
“Yes. It doesn’t seem that cold.”
“No. Low forties. Gonna be a nice day. Near seventy. Mark puts the TV out on the deck.”
“So you can watch birds and football at the same time?” Her tone was teasing, and Kyler nodded.
“To be honest, I’m a little embarrassed by my hobby. But, I mean, I love it.”
“Why embarrassed?”
“Birdwatchers are stereotyped. Older. Geeky. Social misfits. Wear funny hats.”
Lexie laughed quietly. “You don’t seem to fit any of those. Or do you have a hat hidden away?”
“No. But I did buy a harness for my binoculars. I don’t dare put it on, though, until I’m down the trail and out of sight.”
Lexie leaned back against the seat. “So, what’s this Skyline Drive?”
“Highest peak in the park. Panoramic view.”
“So both sunrise and sunset?”
“Yep. And it’s spectacular for star watching. And you’ve got to take in the moonrise from up here. Fantastic.” She turned to her, realizing her exuberance was showing. “Have you noticed the stars yet?”
Lexie glanced out her window to do just that, but they were in the trees now. “I guess I haven’t. I live in the city so I’m not used to looking skyward, I guess.”
“Austin’s right there at the Hill Country. You never get out? Tons of state parks there.”
“I’m not really into camping or anything like that.”
“No? You ever been?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“It’s…it’s quiet. Peaceful. Reflective. Just being outside, away from people and city sounds. I tried to get transferred to the Hill Country. Enchanted Rock. Pedernales Falls. Blanco State Park. None were hiring.”
“You’re an awfully long way from the coast.”
“Oh, yeah. I grew up in Houston. Got my first job at Goose Island State Park in Rockport. Then moved down the coast a little way to Mustang Island.”
“So how’d you end up here?”
Kyler shook
her head. “That’s a story for another time.”
“Oh, so it has nothing to do with an affair with your boss’s wife?”
Kyler felt a blush light her face and was glad for the darkness. “I swear, that boy can gossip.”
Lexie laughed. “Yeah, he can.”
She motioned to her right. “There’s one of the campgrounds. This one is for tents. No RVs allowed. Used to be, you had mostly tent campers and a few RVs. Now? Just the opposite. Most parks had to scramble to enlarge the sites and put in hookups.”
“Hookups?”
“Water and electricity. We have one loop of RV spots that also has sewage hookups. Saves you having to dump your tanks on the way out of the park. People who stay four, five days—a week—they use those.”
“And do a lot of people camp over the holidays?”
“Oh, yeah. We’re full. Even Christmas, we’re booked. Through the New Year. January and February are the dead months. Also the coldest. Even then, it’s not like brutally cold. Well, compared to down at the coast, yeah, it’s cold. I mean, we’re at six thousand feet here. Seven at the observatory.”
“What’s that?”
“McDonald Observatory. They’ve got several huge telescopes. It’s a research place. Part of the University of Texas.” She glanced over at her. “It’s open to the public, if you’re interested.”
“For…?”
“Stargazing.” She turned right and headed up Skyline Drive. “When we get to the top, it won’t be dark enough still to get the full effect, but you’ll get an idea how incredible the stars are.”
She drove a little faster than normal as she saw a red tint beginning to show in the east. She loved this time of morning. The sky was crystal clear, the air dry. No clouds, no haze, no fog. And no light pollution. The stars filled the sky, so close they were right on top of you.
As expected, they were the only ones up there. Sunset was a different story as more of the campers took advantage of the view. But cold, frosty mornings usually meant she had the place to herself.
She reached into the backseat and took out a blanket. “To sit on,” she explained. She also grabbed her binoculars.
The wind was still, but up this high the air was cold, so she put her own hood over her head and pulled it tight. Lexie did the same, then put on her jacket. There were several wooden benches, but she headed past them, going up a little trail to an outcropping of rocks. To the east, a red glow rimmed the horizon, but to their west, it was still black dark.
“Turn this way,” she said, turning Lexie away from the approaching sunrise. “Look up.”
“Oh my god,” Lexie murmured. “There’s like…thousands of them.”
“That’s good. Most people would say there are millions of stars in the sky. And yeah, sure. I mean, it’s infinite. But really, we can only see around two thousand in the nighttime sky. We’re seeing far less than that now since the sky is starting to lighten.”
“Birdwatcher and stargazer?”
“An amateur at both, I admit.”
Lexie was still staring overhead. “It’s beautiful.” She pointed to a bright star. “What’s that? A planet?”
“I don’t think so. You want to see planets, we’ll have to come up here after sunset. Venus and Jupiter were both out last night, bright as can be.” She tugged her around a piñon pine. “There. See the crescent moon? That’s called a waning crescent moon. Look to the right of it. That’s Mars.” She looked through her binoculars for a bit, then passed them to Lexie. “Take a look.”
“Okay. This will sound silly, but I’ve never used them before.”
“Not silly.” She took Lexie’s finger, showing her the focus wheel. “Turn that to focus in on it.”
Kyler could hear Lexie’s soft breathing as she looked through the binoculars. She looked to the sky too for a second, then brought her gaze back to Lexie. There wasn’t enough light to make out her features—the tiny crescent moon did little to cut the darkness. When she lowered the binoculars, Lexie turned to look at her.
“What’s a waning moon?”
“Oh, that’s when the moon is getting smaller. Like when you have a new moon, you can’t see it. It’s out during the day, usually in line with the sun, so you can’t see it. Then you have the little crescent moon—like today—only it would be opposite.” She pointed to the west. “It would be like this, only you’d see it after sunset. That’s called a waxing moon—it’s getting bigger.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah.” She moved toward the large rock where she normally sat and placed the blanket there that she’d still been holding. “This moon, it probably rose about—I don’t know, three thirty or four this morning. And in a day or two, you won’t be able to see it at all. It’s getting smaller. Then we’ll have the new moon. Those are the best stargazing nights because there’s no moon in the sky.”
She sat down, wondering why she was blabbering on so about the damn moon phases. Lexie probably thought she was some goofy birdwatching, stargazing nerd. She smiled to herself. And maybe she was. So what?
“It’s lovely out here.” Lexie sat down beside her. “I’ve never given much thought to things like this. The moon is either in the sky or it’s not. The sun rises, but I haven’t seen many of them. I have enjoyed some sunsets over Lake Travis, though.”
“Down at the coast, there were some awesome sunrises. Sunsets were harder to come by. When I worked at Goose Island, we had a view of both. Sunrise over Aransas Bay and sunset over Copano Bay.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Not enough that I’d want to go back. Not anymore. I guess maybe I miss the vibe down there. Port Aransas is the only town on Mustang Island and it’s, you know, a beach town. Just a laid-back, slow-moving beach town. Rockport was the same. I loved it there. I did. But up here, what I hated at first, I now love.”
“What’s that?”
“The remoteness. The quiet. No people.” She laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate people. Working at a campground down there—it’s noisy and boisterous. Spring Break will test your patience. Up here, it’s quiet. People are respectful of nature. You don’t have loud music blasting from campsites. People go to the beach to let loose, have fun. People come up here for different reasons. Not to say they don’t have fun, just different. More hiking, more solitude. Quiet. Reflective. Peaceful.”
“Judging from my mother’s comments the other night, you haven’t been back.”
“No. And I should, I know. I’m not real close with my family.” She shrugged. “We’ve kinda drifted apart. And my old friends? I keep in touch. Sort of. But it’s not the same. I’m into year five now up here.” The sky was brightening, the deep red was turning to orange. “Besides, I couldn’t go back to Mustang Island, even for a quick visit. He’d probably shoot me on sight.”
Lexie laughed quietly beside her. “I don’t know you from Adam, of course, but I don’t picture you the type to have an affair with a straight married woman.” She paused. “I’m assuming she was straight.”
She sighed. “Oh, Tina didn’t really know what she was. Her husband was eighteen years older than her, and let’s just say, I wasn’t her first. Considering what his reaction was, I’m probably the first one who got caught though.” She pointed out ahead of them. “See the glow? It’s about to pop up.”
Lexie looked above them. “The stars have mostly disappeared.”
“It happens quick.”
“The times seem different here. I mean, sunrise…sunset.”
“It’s because we’re so far west and we’re at the edge of the time zone. I think in the summer, the sun sets about Thirty-five or forty minutes later than it did at the coast.” She felt anticipation as the very tip of the sun—a deep red—showed itself. “There.”
It only took a matter of seconds before the red and orange spread out before them, like slender fingers painting the sky one line at a time. Then the colors seemed to explode in all directions as the red orb crept above the h
orizon. She always felt like time stood still. There was no sound. No wind to rustle the trees. No birds. No people. Just her own heartbeat, her own breath as she was swallowed by colors shooting across the sky.
“Wow. It’s gorgeous.”
The softly whispered words reminded her that she wasn’t alone. Whispered, because even though Lexie didn’t make a habit of this, it seemed she knew—intuitively, perhaps—not to disturb the beautiful silence with words.
She didn’t reply. She sat still, her shoulder inches away from Lexie’s. She’d shared this rock with a few others. Mark, a couple of times. Susan had come up with her a few times too. It felt different this time.
It didn’t last. It never did. A slight breeze kissed her face. A white-winged dove, one the earliest of risers, cooed from down below them. A raven soared past, into the canyon, heading toward the campgrounds. The red and orange faded into a shimmering yellow and the sun lost its gentle shine. A new day was upon them.
“As much as I was dreading this—my alarm went off at five thirty—I’m very glad I came.”
She turned, smiling. “Five thirty?”
“Shower. Two cups of coffee. Internet surfing.”
“Ah.”
“You?”
“Oh, I usually get up at five every morning.”
“Good lord, why?”
She stood, taking one last glance at the rising sun. “I work the morning shift. Seven to three. I—”
What? How did she explain? She did a quick workout of bodyweight exercises and kettle balls. She took a shower. She drank coffee. She made breakfast. She went out with a flashlight and filled the bird feeders. She flipped through the pages of her latest astronomy book—most of the information over her head. She read the online birding page where people logged their finds. She got out an old-fashioned paper map and planned quick daytrips for her days off. She sat on her deck until sunrise, waiting for the first birds to arrive.
“I sit around and drink coffee.”
Lexie eyed her, her head tilted. Kyler wanted to turn away in case Lexie suspected the truth. Because how pathetic and nerdy did her morning routine sound?