Aspen in Moonlight

by Kelly Wacker

  “Is your grandmother still living?” Melissa asked the question gently, noticing that Sula referred to her grandmother in the past tense.

  “No. She passed away about five years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. I bet you miss her.”

  “I do.” Sula paused and took a long drink from her water bottle. “When she was eight years old her mother, Ursula, was killed in a hunting accident.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “Not in detail.” Sula’s expression grew dark. “A hunter mistook her for a bear.”

  “Oh, how terrible! And she was a single mother…your poor grandmother lost her mother at such a young age.”

  Sula nodded. “From what I understand, her grandparents raised her, with help from Betty’s family.”

  “So, your connection to Betty and her family goes way back.” Melissa picked up an apple slice with her free hand and ate it. The sweetness of the honey was the perfect complement to the tartness of the crisp apple.

  “Yes. Like I said, she’s more like family than friend.” Sula removed her hand and brushed something off Melissa’s shoulder. “Ant,” Sula said matter-of-factly and then raised her eyebrows. She raised her index finger to her lips as her gaze focused on something over Melissa’s shoulder. She spoke quietly. “Look behind you…slowly.”

  Melissa twisted around to see three dark-brown and buff-colored adult elk cows moving toward them, walking through the lush meadow they had crossed before lunch. They grazed as they went, their heads dipping to tear off mouthfuls of grass and rising to chew and to keep a wary eye out for predators that might attack them or their calves. The calves stayed close to their mothers, nibbling the grass as they went, mimicking the movements of the much-larger adults.

  They sat still, transfixed, quietly watching the majestic creatures. The meadow grass surrounding the elk shimmered in the breeze, chickadees called from the trees, and the consistent sound of water rushing across the rocks reminded Melissa that time had not stood still, though it felt like it. While watching the animals, Melissa mused on what a luxury it was to be free from the pressure of monitoring time, of having to rush off to classes or to meetings, to all the things that daily life demanded. She savored feeling fully present in the moment.

  The elk approached the creek cautiously. The largest, and perhaps the oldest and wisest cow, took the lead, walking gingerly to the water’s edge, where she took a long drink. One by one the other cows and calves followed the actions of their leader, though the calves seemed to be playing with the water more than drinking it.

  The breeze shifted directions, and the brave leader’s head jerked up. She looked directly at them, flaring her nostrils in an effort to take in their scent.

  Melissa laughed involuntarily. The almost human sense of surprise the elk expressed was comical. When the elk heard her, she snorted and hopped across the creek in three bounding steps, trotting to the protective cover of the trees with the others following her.

  “I’m so sorry. I broke that magical moment.”

  “Don’t apologize. I was surprised at how close they came to us. Most people can’t sit still that long without getting fidgety. I’m impressed.”

  “Well, thank you,” Melissa said. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  A low rumble prompted both of them to turn and stare at the peak in the distance. Although the sky above them was clear blue, a dark cloud was sliding over the mountain.

  “We might want to head back, unless you want to get caught in an afternoon thunderstorm.”

  “As romantic as that sounds, I think I’d rather not.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Melissa wondered how Sula would respond to her use of the word “romantic.” But she didn’t seem fazed as she put away the remains of their lunch and stowed everything back into her pack.

  Melissa shook out the blanket, folding it compactly before handing it to Sula. When Sula reached for it, their fingers touched lightly, and a sharp spark of static electricity popped. Sula flinched and hunched her shoulders as if expecting to be struck by lightning. She grinned with embarrassment as she straightened her posture.

  “So, the rugged mountain woman isn’t so tough after all,” Melissa said in a teasing tone.

  “What makes you think I’m so tough, Goldie?” Sula said as she pulled her pack over her shoulders.

  “Oh. I was hoping you’d forgotten you called me that.”

  “Nope. Sorry, but I’m afraid that name has stuck.”

  Melissa shook her head, resigning herself to the nickname, though in truth, she liked it. It felt like an intimate gesture, like receiving a thoughtful gift. They continued to banter as they walked back to the Bronco, and, like on most journeys, the way back seemed much shorter than the trip out. The sky overhead continued to darken, and the thunder, becoming more frequent and louder, rumbled behind them. By the time they reached the Bronco, the birds were quiet, and a few large raindrops had begun to fall.

  Sula stowed their packs in the back of the vehicle and looked up at the sky, squinting. “I think we’re going to get some rain.”

  As if on cue, the sky flashed, and thunder cracked and boomed. They hopped quickly into the Bronco while the sound echoed down the hillside. Melissa felt the resonant vibration, and after another close strike, the scattered drops of rain coalesced into a downpour.

  “I’m going to let the front of this pass before we head out.” Sula rested her hand on the gear shifter, her voice muffled by the sound of the rain now drumming on the uninsulated steel top.

  The thunderstorm literally blew past, the wind making the big pines sway dramatically back and forth. From their position in the middle of the clearing, it was as if the trees had come alive and were dancing in a circle around them, their branches intertwined like people holding hands.

  Impulsively, Melissa touched the back of Sula’s hand. When she didn’t flinch or pull away, Melissa lifted her hand and rested it on her thigh. She lightly ran her fingertips across the surface of Sula’s hand and wrist, tracing the topography created by veins and tendons before moving upward to the tender skin on the inside of her forearm. Sula closed her eyes and smiled softly, seeming to relax to the pleasure of being touched. Melissa didn’t stop until the rhythm of the rain slowed and Sula opened her eyes.

  “The rain’s let up.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Melissa murmured and released her. Sula glanced at her, the sweet smile on her lips remaining in place.

  They buckled themselves in, and Sula drove back down to the valley. The wind died, but the rain continued, and the road was muddy. The Bronco splashed through the low spots that had filled with rainwater. Inspired with confidence by Sula’s slow, controlled driving, Melissa enjoyed the sense of being on an adventure yet feeling safe.

  By the time they reached Moon Lake the sky was clear. The ground, speckled with little craters where a few heavy raindrops had fallen, was otherwise dry and dusty. The thunderstorm was moving away from them, and Melissa stared out the window at the dark clouds, looking for the occasional streaks of lighting that flashed in the distance and were followed, many seconds later, by the familiar rumble.

  On the valley side of the lake, Sula stopped where she had before and got out to unlock the wheels, taking the Bronco out of four-wheel drive. When she got back in, she regarded Melissa intensely and chewed her lower lip. She appeared to be mulling something over.

  “Would you like to see some more paintings by Ursula?”

  “Are you kidding me? Of course!”

  Sula laughed gently. “I’d be shocked if you’d answered any differently.”

  The road in front of them forked in two directions. Melissa knew that turning left would take them back to the ranch and to her cabin. Sula put the Bronco in gear, drove forward, and turned the wheel to the right. Melissa had no idea where this road would lead.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sula glanced at Melissa, who was staring out the open window of the Bronco, watching the passing landsc
ape. Golden strands of hair had escaped from her ponytail and blew wildly around her head. She’d been visibly excited when Sula invited her to the house to show her more of Ursula’s paintings, but she’d become quiet once they got on to the pavement, the road noise making conversation difficult. Sula slowed the Bronco to make the turn onto the gravel road leading to her house.

  “Oh.” Melissa jerked and looked around. “Are we there already?”

  “Almost,” Sula said, turning the wheel.

  Melissa scanned the area in front of them. “I don’t see a house anywhere.”

  “It’s not visible from the road. You’ll see it in just a minute.”

  Sula chewed on her lower lip expectantly. She knew Melissa would be surprised after they passed the large boulder. From the other side of it, you couldn’t miss seeing the house. It was strikingly positioned on a rise in a meadow with mountain peaks looming in the distance. Without a doubt it was the view depicted in one of the paintings Melissa had shown her. Her great-grandmother must have painted it from where the road curved around the boulder, the spot at which they were just about to arrive. Melissa would most likely be as astounded to see it in person as Sula had been to see it printed on a piece of paper in Melissa’s hand.

  Sula took a deep breath, hoping it would be a good surprise. She felt a little guilty that she hadn’t already confessed to Melissa that she recognized the place depicted in that painting. When Melissa had shown it to her, she was uncertain about the professor’s intentions, and she’d acted on instinct by not acknowledging that she knew the place. But something had shifted inside her today. It wasn’t just because of that kiss, though that was extraordinary, and recalling the feel and taste of Melissa made Sula tingle. She stirred something deep inside her, a feeling powerful enough to cause her to lower her guard.

  “Sula, stop the car!”

  Sula hit the brakes, and Melissa grabbed the handhold on the dash. She stared at the two-story log house with a look of astonishment. Then she turned her head slowly to face Sula, cocked her head, and arched a single eyebrow. “You knew.”

  Sula nodded, trying to gauge the tone of Melissa’s reaction before saying anything in reply.

  “You knew,” Melissa said again, “and you didn’t tell me.”

  Sula met Melissa’s burning gaze. She felt as if she was being examined, considered, appraised.

  “You didn’t trust me, did you?”

  “This is my home…I’m a private person. I—” Sula stammered, stumbling in her attempt to explain herself.

  “Well then, if you brought me here you must trust me,” Melissa said gently, with a soft smile. “At least a little bit.”

  Melissa’s voice, like her touch, was soothing and made her feel unbelievably good. She remembered the rainstorm, Melissa’s fingertips stroking her, touching her, relaxing her, yet setting her nerves on fire…

  As if picking up on her thoughts, Melissa placed a hand on Sula’s arm. “I’m honored that you trust me. I truly am. I understand that you don’t invite people in very often.”

  Sula wasn’t sure if Melissa meant she didn’t invite people to her house or into her life. Whether she knew it or not, she was correct on both accounts.

  Melissa turned and stared at the house, pointing at it while looking at Sula out of the corner of her eye. “So, you’ve got some paintings in there?”

  “I do.”

  “And you’re going to show them to me?”

  “I am.”

  “So why are we sitting here?”

  “Because you told me to stop.” Sula laughed and, relieved, put the Bronco back in gear.

  Melissa walked up the steps slowly, admiring the magnificent two-story log house. The wood was dark with age and capped with a new green, metal roof. The roof of the house in the painting had wood shingles, but with the increasing threat of wildfires these days, a metal one made a lot more sense. To be standing in front of Ursula Bergen’s house was surreal, strangely like walking around inside the painting. It seemed very real, though. The red Lyons sandstone steps under her feet certainly felt solid, and the porch posts made of mortared river rock didn’t seem to be comprised of the flimsy stuff of dreams. Nonetheless, when she stepped onto the porch, she put a hand on one of the rounded rocks, in part to feel its smooth surface, but also to confirm that it was indeed real.

  Sula put her backpack on the seat of a rocking chair and watched Melissa with an amused expression. She pointed behind her. “Best view in the Rockies, I think, but I’m a little biased.”

  Melissa turned and sucked in her breath when saw the magnificent mountain and valley vista—a pond reflecting the cerulean sky, viridian pine-covered hillsides, and craggy gray peaks still covered with snow.

  “Please tell me you never get tired of looking at this.”

  “Never. I’m thankful for it every single day.”

  “Good.” Melissa was about to ask about the house, when it was built, who designed it and so on, but was interrupted by the appearance of two svelte tabby cats—one gray with spots and the other mottled pale-orange and gray. They hopped up on to the porch railing, then immediately trotted over to Sula and rubbed against her legs. The pale one stood in between her feet and looked at Melissa inquisitively.

  “What pretty cats,” Melissa cooed and crouched down with her hand out. The cat walked toward her, tail straight in the air.

  “That one is Tawny,” Sula said and gestured to the one that stayed with her. “This one is Spotty.”

  Melissa petted Tawny, who immediately began purring. “I can see how they got their names.”

  “Not very original, I know. Their mother was one of Betty’s barn cats. She disappeared when they were about a week old.” Sula winced. “Probably a coyote. There were five in the litter, and we referred to them by their colors and patterns for so long, the names stuck.” Sula bent over and scooped up Spotty.

  “What happened to the other three?”

  “Big Spot stayed to become part of Betty’s barn-cat crew. Gray and Torti went to her grandkids and got renamed Ash and Butter.”

  Melissa laughed at the names and watched Sula cradling Spotty, petting her in long, slow strokes from nose to tail. The cat closed her eyes in seeming blissful contentment, and Melissa wondered what it would feel like to have Sula’s hands on her like that, caressing her…

  Sula raised her eyes, meeting Melissa’s gaze. She cocked her head and arched her eyebrows as if wondering what she was thinking.

  “I miss my cat,” Melissa said nonchalantly and stood.

  “I understand. They’re good company.” Sula put Spotty gently on the floor before pulling keys from her pocket. She stepped toward the front door.

  “Sula, wait. Before we go in, I want to tell you something. While you were driving, I was thinking. I know you’re a very private person and your paintings are unknown, and you probably want to keep them that way. But you should know that it’s not unusual to write about and publish images of works of art that are listed as in a private collection, without any indication of where they’re located or even who owns them. It’s an option. But, more importantly, I won’t share anything with anyone without your permission. I promise to respect your privacy.”

  Melissa hoped Sula could sense that she meant it. She was about to get more than she hoped for, and this was no longer an academic project. It had shifted into something more deeply personal. Sula was granting her access to her family’s past, to her heritage, and considering the gravity with which Sula offered it, Melissa understood she shouldn’t accept that privilege lightly. She needed to assure Sula that she would not take what she was seeing and learning and run with it. Plus, there was that little thing of having kissed Sula by the creek. Well, maybe not such a little thing. And Sula had kissed her back. The memory flooded her, quickening her pulse. One thing at a time…

  “I appreciate you telling me that,” Sula said, opening the door.

  While crossing the threshold, Melissa understood Sula’s reluct
ance to invite a stranger in. The interior of the house was spectacularly Rocky Mountain rustic. Log posts and beams supported a cathedral ceiling, and a second-floor landing overlooked the great room. The center of the wide pine plank floor was covered with a worn, but beautiful, old oriental rug, the interior walls were plastered and painted a cheerful shade of yellow, and dark-brown leather chairs and a long sofa faced a fieldstone fireplace. Bookshelves were filled with books and pottery. And there were paintings…

  “Would you like something to drink? Water, iced tea, a cold beer maybe?”

  Melissa barely heard Sula’s question as a painting hanging across the room caught her eye. She managed to utter a polite yes to water—she needed to stay hydrated in this dry climate, and with the altitude, a beer in the afternoon would go right to her head and make her sleepy if she wasn’t careful and drank it too quickly. When Sula left the room, Melissa took a closer look at the painting. It was a snowy winter landscape, the view from the porch, it seemed, and a cold contrast to what she had just experienced in person. She recognized the brushstrokes as belonging to Ursula’s hand. Her ability to paint the snow, with a dozen or more individual hues of white, was impressive. What could have been a flat, dead scene was instead vibrant.

  “Here you go.”

  Sula’s sudden appearance with a tall glass of ice water in her outstretched hand startled her. For a woman with such a commanding presence, she could be uncannily quiet.

  “Thank you.” Melissa took a large swallow and then another, not realizing until now how thirsty she was. The glass was cool in her hand, and she pressed it to her cheek. “Ah, that feels so good.”

  “On hot days this painting almost gives me a chill.”

  “I imagine it would. I could look at this for a long time.”

  “Before you get lost in the snow, would you like the tour first? There’s a painting in every room.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Sula grinned. “Well, almost. There aren’t any in the kitchen and bathrooms.”