by Kelly Wacker
Melissa laughed, following Sula through the house and discovering that she wasn’t kidding. A winter landscape hung in the living room, a view looking down a rocky canyon in the dining room, landscapes with creeks and rivers in the guest rooms, and an autumn scene with golden aspen in the billiard room, the last stop on the tour. Melissa felt overstimulated by taking in all the paintings in addition to the house. Every room was neat and thoughtfully decorated with interesting objects, like the elk-antler chandelier in the dining room and a shiny black stone sculpture of a dancing bear on the table underneath a painting.
“Is this an Inuit sculpture?” Melissa asked, admiring the standing bear balanced on one foot with the other outstretched. Its body was twisted, one paw forward and the other tucked behind its back. With eyes made from a white inlay, it stared intensely upward. The skillfully counterbalanced pose evoked a sense of energy, grace, and strength. She had seen sculptures of this quality only in museums.
“Yes, it’s a spirit bear, by Noona Parr. He lives in Canada.”
“There’s something about this—the tension in it. The bear seems so grounded but also intensely connected to what’s above.”
“In many old cultures, the bear crosses boundaries between the spirit world and our world.”
“You mean the spirit bear is a shaman?” Melissa asked.
“Yeah.”
“And vice versa, right?” Melissa tried to remember what she knew about indigenous cultures. “Shamans are shape-changers. They fly with the eagles and swim with the salmon.”
“And dance with the bears,” Sula said with a wry grin.
“And play pool with the bears, too.” Melissa noticed that the billiard table behind Sula had bear heads carved into the legs.
“What?” Sula raised her eyebrows with a look of surprise and then followed Melissa’s line of sight to the table legs. “Oh, the pool table. It was my grandfather’s. He loved billiards.”
“Do you play?”
“Yes, of course. My grandfather taught me how to shoot pool and drink whiskey when I was old enough. He never showed me any mercy. I mean billiards, not drinking.”
Melissa laughed.
“Do you play?”
Melissa considered the question for a moment before answering. “I can’t recall when I last shot a game of pool.”
“Body memory.”
“Hm?”
“You know the expression, ‘it’s like riding a bike’? You think you’ve forgotten, but your body remembers the moves. Maybe we can play sometime.”
Melissa couldn’t think of anything else she’d like better than to play with Sula in whatever form she wanted, but before she could respond, the trilling ring of Sula’s cell phone interrupted them. She pulled the phone out of her back pocket, swiped the screen, and frowned. “I’m sorry. I need to take this. Feel free to look around.”
Sula said hello to someone named Lee. Melissa wondered if a woman or a man was on the other end. She laughed at herself, recognizing a little pang of jealousy. Not wanting to eavesdrop, she walked back to the living room and perused the bookshelves. Movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see Tawny and Spotty watching her from the ledge of the second-floor landing. Having recently seen a mountain lion in person, she realized now how much they looked like their bigger feline cousin. She smiled at them and continued reading the book titles. It was always interesting to see what kind of books people read. Not surprisingly, there were many books about bears and North American ecology and conservation. A whole shelf had old books written in what she assumed was Norwegian, given Sula’s heritage. One bookcase held only novels, some with well-worn and creased spines, and Melissa recognized quite a few titles as lesbian romances.
“Find anything interesting?” Sula asked as she walked into the room, tucking her phone into her back pocket.
“Yes, quite a bit.”
“Sorry about taking that call. It was one of the local police officers.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, sort of.” A dark look crossed Sula’s face. “He’s been getting reports about illegal animal traps and wanted to know if I knew anything about it. Apparently, someone found their dog in one yesterday. He’s alive, but he’s going to lose his leg.”
“That’s terrible! Why would he call you? You seem like the last person to be involved in trapping.”
“No, not like that. He wanted to know if I’d found any on my land. I haven’t.”
“That’s good.”
“Maybe not. I need to go take a look. I really don’t like knowing that someone around here is trapping.” The fierce look on Sula’s face lifted. “Hey, are you hungry? I wasn’t planning to have company for dinner, but I could grill some burgers, and you could tell me what you think of all these paintings.”
In the kitchen, Melissa offered to help Sula prepare the meal, but Sula simply handed her a cold beer and told her to have a seat on the stool on the other side of the tall counter. The cats had followed them in and sat together on the stool next to Melissa, observing the activity. Melissa eagerly talked about how fine the paintings were while Sula pulled hamburger patties out of the refrigerator and prepared the toppings, nodding thoughtfully and occasionally asking questions.
“So, what you’ve seen here is more than what you expected to find?” Sula asked while slicing an onion, placing the rings on a plate with lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, and buns.
“Yes, so much more.” Melissa took the last swig of beer from the bottle. It was a pleasant amber ale that she had failed to drink slowly. “I thought I’d be lucky to find two or three paintings and maybe an obituary or a couple of mentions in the local paper. I didn’t expect to find Ursula’s great-granddaughter with a house full of her paintings, let alone have her make me dinner and ply me with alcohol.” Melissa waved the empty bottle.
Sula laughed while stacking the food, plates, and condiments on a tray. She pulled two more beers from the fridge and handed one to Melissa. “Let’s go out to the patio.”
The cats hopped down, following them to the back door. Melissa was impressed by their restraint. They hadn’t even put a paw on the counter. The first time she turned her back, her cat, Alex, would have been on the counter and trying to steal a hamburger.
The sun had dropped to the front of the house, casting shade on the back patio. Covered with the same red flagstone as the porch, it was edged with stone planters and filled with many of the same sun-loving plants in Melissa’s garden at home—yellow black-eyed Susan, purple coneflower, and red salvia. Hummingbirds chattered and darted, pausing to feed on the nectar of the blooms. Sula put the tray down on the stone table attached to the brick barbecue in the far corner and pulled out tools and briquettes from a compartment underneath. Melissa sipped her beer and walked around the patio, admiring the flowers while Sula got the coals started. The cats stalked a grasshopper, following it around the corner of the house.
“Your grandmother owned this house before you, right?” Melissa asked.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Sula nodded and dusted charcoal off her hands. She grabbed her beer and took a swig.
“So where did you grow up?”
“I’ll show you.” Sula disappeared into the house and came back with a pair of binoculars. “Come stand over here.”
Melissa walked over to where Sula stood at the edge of the patio. She handed her the binoculars and then pointed across the valley. “Look along the edge of the trees over there. Find the big boulder with a vertical crack and then look up, just a little.”
Melissa raised the binoculars to her eyes and adjusted the eyepiece. The trees came into sharp focus. “Damn, these are amazing.” She scanned along the edge of the meadow and found the boulder Sula had described. A house tucked into the trees came into view. A modern design, it was boxy, with large windows and walls painted the color of the natural rock. She lowered the binoculars, realizing she could still see it without them, but only because she knew where to look.
; “So you grew up near here. That’s what you’re telling me?”
“Yeah.” Sula laughed. “A stone’s throw away.”
“With a slingshot…or maybe a catapult.” Melissa lifted the binoculars again and scanned the hillside, delighted by all the detail she could see with the binoculars’ high-quality optics. She continued their conversation without putting them down.
“You said your parents started the conservancy.”
“Yes, that’s right. After they graduated. They met in grad school when they were both students at Berkeley. My father says he struck up a conversation with my mother after she gave a passionate presentation about better, non-lethal management practices for predator species.”
“You mean learning to live with them rather than shooting them.”
“That’s simplifying it, but yes.”
“And the conservancy was a chance to show the world how it could be done. Oh! I see some deer.” Melissa counted off the number of does and bucks with delight.
“My mother said it had become a time for action.”
“That makes sense to me. That was in the seventies, right? So when people finally began to care about the environment, your parents were there to show them how to do things better. You know, the ‘save the bears, save the planet’ approach is really smart.”
“How so?” Sula asked.
“People love bears. They’re ferocious and cuddly all at the same time. They’re archetypal, kind of like Beauty and the Beast.”
“Beauty and the Beast?”
“Think about it. The beast is animal and human, scary and tender, powerful yet pitiful. He evokes a full range of emotions and is irresistible. Bears are a lot like that.”
“That’s very insightful, Professor.”
“Uh-oh. Did I just go into professor mode?” Feeling self-conscious, she lowered the binoculars. Sula was looking out across the valley with a smile on her lips.
“A little.” Sula glanced at her and took another sip from her bottle. “But I like it. Go on.”
“Okay.” Melissa raised the binoculars, refocusing them on the trees midway up the mountainside. “So, your parents took advantage of people’s fascination with bears, and they put it into action. They’re attracted to the conservancy because of the focus on bears, and then, hopefully, they’ll take home some of the ideas you teach. It’s like you’re seeding hope for the future. Ooh, there’s a hawk…no, maybe an owl. It’s perched on a branch.”
Melissa put the binoculars down when she realized Sula was watching her, staring really, with those beautiful amber eyes.
“Seeing you take delight in nature, in all the living things around us, is very enchanting.” Sula said and then walked over to the barbecue and put the hamburgers on the grill.
“Really?” Melissa said, following her. “You’re going to tell me I’m enchanting and then walk away?”
Sula put the spatula down and turned around, wearing an anxious expression. “I…”
“You what?”
“I think you’re enchanting.”
Sula stepped toward her and placed her fingers against Melissa’s cheek, lightly running her thumb across her lips. Melissa’s heart leapt. When Sula leaned forward and kissed her, she nearly melted. The kiss, which began tenderly, deepened into a slow, sensual exploration. Their bodies pressed together, Melissa felt enveloped by Sula’s embrace, and she breathed in her alluring scent of amber and cinnamon. Being held and kissed by Sula was as comforting as it was arousing, like being drawn into a warm, gentle current. And she wanted nothing more than to take off her clothes and go all the way in. When Sula broke the kiss, she shuddered.
“You don’t have to stop,” Melissa said breathlessly.
“I’m afraid I do.”
“Why?” Melissa was incredulous.
“Because the burgers are burning.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Sula!”
When Betty raised her voice, Sula snapped to attention.
“Will you help me clear the table?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Sula glanced around, realizing she was the only one still at the table. Sunday dinner was over. Sula had been staring at the birds on the feeder outside the dining-room window when her mind wandered. Again. She stood, grabbed as many plates and bowls as she could carry, and followed Betty into the kitchen.
Yesterday Sula had spent most of the day and a good part of the evening with Melissa. After their meal of slightly overdone burgers they had talked…and kissed. Sula had lost track of time and didn’t look at a clock until Melissa, yawning repeatedly, nearly fell asleep. Melissa apologized vigorously, but Sula took no offense, knowing that it was the consequence of the mountain air, their hike earlier in the day, and the beer. Sula drove her back to her cabin, kissed her good night tenderly, and watched with longing when she stepped through the door. She had considered asking Melissa to stay but offered to give her a ride back to her cabin instead. It seemed the proper thing to do.
Sula replayed their conversations in her head. She had learned quite a bit about art yesterday. And with her mind’s eye she continued to gaze into those green eyes and delight in Melissa’s easy laughter. She found it difficult to follow conversations with Betty and her family. Fortunately, she didn’t need to say much when around Betty’s family during Sunday dinner. Betty’s husband, Lars, and her nephew, Little Lars, bantered and entertained the kids with stories. Jaymie, Little Lars’s wife, was preoccupied with their new baby. John, Betty’s youngest son, typically didn’t contribute much to conversations, but he laughed frequently with his funny horsey snort.
It was a regular family meal. Well, everything was regular about it except Sula. She was feeling highly irregular, her mind preoccupied with all things Melissa. She didn’t think anyone had noticed that she wasn’t fully present, but the look on Betty’s face as she scraped the leftover pot roast into a glass bowl told her otherwise.
“Sula, what is up with you? Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” Sula put the plates in the sink and began rinsing them.
“You don’t look fine. And you’re not acting fine.” Putting a lid on the bowl, Betty slid it onto a shelf in the refrigerator. She narrowed her eyes at Sula and put the palm of her hand on her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I’m not sick.”
“Okay. So what’s on your mind? Leave the plates in the sink. I’ll take care of them later.”
“Why do you think something’s on my mind?” Sula grabbed a kitchen towel and dried her hands.
“Because I know you.” Betty refilled her coffee cup and took a sip. “You want another slice of honey cake?”
“Sure.” Sula always wanted another slice of the Norwegian dessert, a dense, dark cake sweetened with honey and flavored with cinnamon and clove.
“Coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
Betty sliced a piece and carried it over to the breakfast nook and sat down, pushing the plate across the table.
“Sit.”
Sula sat and ate the cake while Betty drank coffee, stared at her, and tapped her nails lightly against the side of the cup.
“You might as well tell me now. You know you will eventually,” Betty said matter-of-factly.
Sula took the last bite of cake and put the fork down with a sigh. Betty always could see through her. When Sula had figured out she liked girls instead of boys, Betty was the first person she talked to about it. They’d had the conversation at this very table tucked into the corner of the kitchen, in fact. Sula remembered that it was in the fall because Betty had handed her a slice of apple pie and commanded her to sit down and talk. Some things never changed.
“I like Melissa Warren.”
“I like her, too. What’s she got to do with—” Betty stopped herself and laughed. “Oh, you mean you like her.”
“Don’t laugh. It’s not funny.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny. But you’re funny, Sula. Melissa’
s a very nice person, very smart. Attractive, too.” Betty paused and took a sip of coffee. “Is she not gay? Is that what’s got you all out of sorts?”
“Oh, she’s very much a lesbian.”
Betty wagged her eyebrows. “Did she kiss you?”
“Betty!”
“Did you kiss her?”
Exasperated, Sula just grunted.
“So, did you?” Betty watched her reaction and then waved a hand at her dismissively. “You don’t need to answer. I can tell by the look on your face that you did. You’re blushing, too. That’s a good thing, right? What’s the problem? I’m really happy to see you connect with someone.”
“You are?”
“Of course I am. Look, Sula. I worry about you being alone all the time. I know you value your privacy and all that, but it doesn’t mean you have to be a nun, you know?”
“I know, but my life is a little complicated.”
“Sure, your complications are different from most people’s. But life is complicated, so you make it work. Your parents made it work.” Betty lowered her voice. “So, what’s really eating at you?”
“I asked her to go to Denver with me.”
“Why Denver?”
“I’m giving a presentation on Tuesday at a symposium at the refuge, and I invited her.”
“So? That sounds like a nice day trip. Visit the Mile High City and all that. You’ll have a good time.”
“I’m spending the night. I give the presentation on Tuesday, and then I have a meeting with someone at Fish and Wildlife on Wednesday.”
Betty reached across the table and put her hand on Sula’s. “If Melissa didn’t feel comfortable with your invitation, she’d have declined. You have a good head on your shoulders, and you make good decisions. Do what feels right. Listen to your gut and it’ll be okay. And stop worrying, Sula. You know I’m always right.” Betty stood and carried her cup to the sink. “Or maybe that’s what you’re afraid of.”
Sula fidgeted in her seat. Betty was right, though Sula was hesitant to admit it. Her attraction to Melissa felt so natural, she suspected that she had only begun to sense its depths. It felt like wading into the river to swim and putting your foot down, expecting to feel rocks against the bottom of your feet, only to feel cold water rush by as you dropped into a deep pool with the water over your head. Exciting but scary, yet her instinct wasn’t telling her to run. Quite the opposite, it was goading her to get closer. Damn, she felt so conflicted.