Mary Colter was undaunted by the prospects of taking a piece of land where a roundhouse had once existed and turning it into a lush and exotic playground for the wealthy. Considering Mary’s vision for landscaping and construction, E. J. had to admit the woman was positively inspired. Her plan was to raise up a resort hotel to look as if it had been there for hundreds of years. She even created her own myths and legends to surround it—giving history to what had just months ago been nothing.
The task wouldn’t be easy. It would take more than average attention to detail to build this hacienda-style hotel. It would demand a tremendous amount of work and the highest quality of craftsmanship. It was easy to slap together a square of bricks and windows but something entirely different to fashion a dream.
And it was harder still when your ability to dream had been destroyed in the wake of man’s fury.
E. J. pulled his wire-rimmed glasses off and rubbed his closed eyes momentarily. The haunting images of his past were never further away than a thought. The nightmarish vision of men dying was always with him. Blood and decay filled his thoughts as permanent reminders of all that he’d lost. For most Americans, the Great War was over and done with. They seldom gave it consideration. But for E. J., he truly wondered if the war would ever end. Would the ghostly faces of his dying friends ever fade?
He opened his eyes and replaced the glasses once again. How can I see the vision of a beautiful creation when all of my thoughts are consumed with the ugliness of such an evil?
For a time after the war he’d immersed himself in studying Spanish architecture and furnishings. He found the dark woods and extensive carving to be a fascination all its own. The buildings, however, were what had truly captured his imagination. Tiled roofs and stucco walls, stone floors and brightly painted tiles—all of it was different and exciting. There was a taste of the exotic in such masterpieces, and it was this interest that eventually brought him to work with Mary Colter.
“Hello.”
E. J. looked up to find a sweet-faced little pixie watching as he pored over his drawings. E. J. hadn’t expected to find a child on the construction site.
“Hello,” he said, trying hard to sound stern. “This isn’t really a safe place to play.”
“I didn’t come to play. I want to build places like this someday. I came to see how it’s done.”
E. J. smiled. “Oh, you did, now.” Her innocent comment pushed away his previous darkness.
The little girl nodded, her two long braids bobbing as she did. “I like to draw. My daddy was an architect. He was going to build all sorts of buildings and now I want to. Do you like to build things too?”
“I do indeed.” He rolled up his blueprints and glanced around at the busy construction crew. “Would you like a look around?”
“Oh, very much,” the girl answered. She came closer and extended her hand in greeting. “I’m Natalie.”
“And I’m E. J. I work with Miss Colter. She’s the one who planned all of this.” He waved at the framework that would one day become a grand resort. “I would think Miss Colter would very much like to meet you. See, she has been working in this business for many years and can tell you all about how it is for a woman to work in a job that’s usually performed by men.”
Natalie smiled, but her gaze was fixed on the construction crew. She watched without concern to her own safety as the men moved through the open room carrying impressive loads of mortar, lumber, and tools. As they marched dirty boots across lovely carpets of intricately woven patterns, Natalie looked to E. J. in question.
“Won’t they ruin those pretty rugs?”
E. J. laughed. “That’s the idea,” he said rather conspiratorially. “Miss Colter thought they looked too nice—too new. She’s done this before. She likes to have the workers walk on them and make them look old and used.”
“But why?” Natalie questioned, scrunching up her face and cocking her head to one side.
The puzzled look on the child’s face gave E. J. a feeling of delight he’d not known in years. “It’s her way,” he answered. “She likes things to look like they’ve been in a place forever. She says it’s a way of making the new look comfortably old and welcoming.”
Natalie seemed to consider this for a moment, then took her attention elsewhere. “What are they building back there?” She pointed past E. J.
“That’s to be the dining room. Come on, I’ll show you around.” E. J. picked up his drawings and tucked them under his arm. Natalie quickly followed as he led the way. “See, overhead we have log-beamed ceilings to make it look very Spanish.”
“Why?”
“Miss Colter wants the entire place to look like one of the old Spanish haciendas. She wants it to look like it belongs here instead of something that was just picked up elsewhere and plopped down here. Do you understand?”
Natalie nodded. “She doesn’t want it to be out of place.”
“Right,” E. J. replied. “She has a dream to make this a lovely resort where people will come and feel as though they’re visiting one of the ancient Spanish ranchos from the early eighteen hundreds.”
“Will people like that?” Natalie asked, looking toward the arched windows.
“People are always looking for something different from what they are used to. So I think they’ll like it very much. Besides, they already love Fred Harvey’s hotels and restaurants.”
Natalie smiled. “I know. My mama works at the Harvey House. At least, she did. She’s quit for now to take care of my grandpa. He’s dying.”
E. J. frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I was too,” Natalie said, digging the toe of her leather shoe against the stone floor. “Grandpa’s been like my best friend. He’s always telling me stories and helping me learn about things.”
E. J. had no idea what to say, his own losses fresh in his memory. So many people he’d cared about had died tragically. Friends in the Great War. His parents and wife to influenza. How he missed them all.
“So will they have a lunch counter too?” Natalie suddenly asked, taking E. J. out of his sorrowful memories.
“Yes,” he nodded. “It will be over this way.” As they walked, E. J. explained, “They plan to use the most beautiful Spanish tile on the counters. It’s really going to look impressive.”
“My mama doesn’t like to work the lunch counter. She says it’s a more frantic pace of life than working in the dining room.”
E. J. couldn’t help smiling at this bit of insight. “I can well imagine that’s right. I’m staying over at the present Harvey hotel, and I eat in the restaurant every day. The lunch counter is more frantic,” he said with a wink.
Natalie grinned. “My mama says people come storming in there shouting their orders, calling out for more attention than the next person. She said it’s like they think being louder will make things go faster.”
E. J. nodded. “The world is full of those kinds of folks.”
They walked around the building site, E. J. pointing out the workers and what they were doing. Finally, they ended up outside.
“What are those people doing?” Natalie questioned.
E. J. looked to where she was focused. “There’s going to be a sunken garden over there with all sorts of hidden shrines and fountains. Miss Colter has this wonderful plan, and I know it will be spectacular. Everything she creates is wonderful.”
“But why does she worry about the garden part? I thought architects only worried about building things.”
E. J. motioned with his arm. “But all of this is just an extension of the building. Don’t you see? It’s like a giant canvas, and we’re the artists who are painting upon it. You wouldn’t just paint the building and leave the rest of the canvas blank—now, would you?”
Natalie’s face lit up and E. J. was certain she understood. “No,” she replied. “You have to make it all work together. Just like Miss Colter wants it to look like it belongs.”
“Exactly. We don’t want the
guests to show up when the building’s all done to find that the grounds are still cluttered with building materials and tools. We want to extend the beauty beyond the walls of the hotel. We want it to be a lovely place to come share a quiet moment—a peaceful rest.”
“I want to do things like this when I grow up,” Natalie announced confidently. “I want to build pretty places where people will be happy. That way my daddy’s dreams can come true.”
“Your daddy’s dreams? What about yours?” E. J. questioned. He found it odd that the little girl should want to fulfill someone else’s plan. “Can’t your daddy make his own dreams come true?”
“My daddy died in the war. He was an architect like you. He wanted to build wonderful things, and my mama says he was very good.” She smiled at E. J., melting his heart. “My daddy was a hero in the war.”
“Was he, now?” E. J. found Natalie’s adoration of her father quite charming, but talk of the war made him uncomfortable. This little girl had a way about her that took him back to 1918. And it wasn’t only the talk of the war. It was also rather disconcerting that the little girl, with her huge brown eyes and dark lashes, made E. J. think of his own beloved wife, now dead and gone. He sighed but tried to maintain his composure. One could never tell when the past would catch up with the present.
Natalie seemed oblivious to his momentary sorrow. “I never got to know my daddy, but everyone has told me what a hero he was. He saved a whole bunch of men in the war. Whenever we have a parade, I get to ride with the veterans in honor of my daddy. I get to help decorate the graves too, and last year a man came from the newspaper in Phoenix and talked to me about my daddy and took my picture with the veterans.”
Her expression completely told the story. She practically worshiped the memory of a man she couldn’t possibly have known. After all, she was such a little thing, E. J. would never even have imagined she was old enough to have been conceived prior to the Great War.
“How old are you, Natalie?”
She twirled in her yellow cotton sundress and laughed. “I’m ten and I’m going to be eleven next January. How old are you?”
Her question caught him off guard but made him chuckle nevertheless. He stroked his bearded chin as if he had to remember all the years and tally them up. “I’m thirty-two. Kind of old, huh?”
“No,” Natalie replied, shaking her head. “That’s not old at all. My mama is thirty-two and she’s very young, but she works too hard. At least that’s what Grandpa says. He says she’s trying to keep busy so that she doesn’t get too sad.”
E. J. had no idea how to respond. The warmth of the afternoon gave him an idea. “Would you like a cold drink? I think we have some lemonade and tea.”
“Sure. I like lemonade.”
E. J. smiled. “I do too.” He was surprised when Natalie danced off ahead of him. He ambled after her, realizing suddenly that she was like a balm to his chafed and wounded spirit. In spite of her comments of the war, her sweetness and girlish delight in everything she saw made E. J. most aware of one thing. Life. She was a tribute to the living—joyous, blooming, shining with an inner light that somehow permeated the darkness of his soul.
Once inside, E. J. arranged two glasses of lemonade, then directed Natalie to a reasonably quiet corner of the area where they’d first met. He offered her a glass, then sat down opposite her. He’d hoped that Mary would return before long, which was the real reason, he told himself, that he delayed Natalie’s departure.
“Have you been working here for a long time?” Natalie asked.
“No, I’ve only been here this last week,” E. J. admitted. “I finished up some final details on a hotel over in Santa Fe, New Mexico. It’s called La Fonda. It’s a very beautiful hotel, but I think this one will be even nicer.”
Natalie took a sip of the lemonade and asked, “Did you build that hotel too?”
“No. The hotel was already there. The railroad bought it and asked Miss Colter to come in and make some changes and improvements.” Natalie nodded as if she were a company employee well versed in the routine. E. J. smiled. “You should have seen some of the things she did.”
“Like what?” Natalie appeared to be his captive audience.
“Well, she designed furniture and special light fixtures. She had murals painted in some of the rooms and redecorated the walls in other parts of the hotel.”
“But that’s not architect work,” Natalie argued.
“She’s an interior architect as well as exterior,” E. J. explained. “Miss Colter is equally talented in interior decorating as well as creating the actual building and landscape. Remember what I told you about painting the whole canvas? Miss Colter believes that canvas is inside the building as well. Like I said, I think you’d like her a lot.”
“So will she make furniture here too?”
“She’s hiring it done. She’s designed some very nice pieces. There will also be some that are simpler. Miss Colter likes the contrast. She’s bringing in beautiful china and copper pots from Europe and Asia. This hotel will even have a patron saint—San Ysidro.”
“We don’t have any saints at my house. We aren’t Catholic,” Natalie said, putting her lemonade aside. “We don’t pray to saints; we just pray to God directly.”
E. J. found himself amazed at her bold yet easy manner in speaking of her faith. “So where do you go to church, Miss Natalie?”
“We go to Faith Mission Church. Would you like to come with us? My mama plans to come to church tomorrow and you could come and meet her. She’s real pretty.”
E. J. grinned. “If she looks anything like you, I’m sure she’s beautiful.”
Natalie’s brown eyes seemed to flash with an inner light of joy at this comment. “So will you come?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I’m taking the train to Santa Fe tonight. I won’t be back here until next Wednesday. Maybe another time.”
Natalie fairly bounced in her seat. “Good. I’ll come see you again when you get back. You can tell me about your drawings.” She pointed to the papers he’d been carrying around since she’d first shown up.
“I’d be happy to do that, but right now,” he said, glancing at his watch, “I have to go. I have a meeting. When you come back, I’ll see if I can introduce you to Miss Colter. You’d like her a lot. She sometimes seems mean and gruff, but she’s really a very nice lady.”
“I’ll come after school on Thursday if it’s okay with Mama,” Natalie promised. “Will you be here?”
E. J. thought about his workweek and nodded. “I should be. Sometimes we have to go scout up workers or supplies, but otherwise, I should be around.”
“Then I’ll come back. Thanks for the lemonade.”
She got up and skipped off, weaving in and out of the construction workers until she’d disappeared. E. J. thought it rather strange and delightful at the same time that a young girl should be so captivated by the architecture and building of this marvelous resort. Some of the local boys stopped by from time to time, but Natalie was the first girl to show interest. He sighed and gathered up his things. The afternoon promised to be long, and then there would be the ride back to Santa Fe. He smiled to himself as he made his way across the lobby floor. Silly as it sounded, he would have much rather spent time talking with the girl than dealing with meetings and contract issues.
****
That night after Natalie and Grandpa had gone to bed, Ashley finished ironing her good dress in preparation for the next morning. She’d promised Natalie she’d go to church, and she intended to see it through. Grandpa had been surprised at the news, and when Ashley had taken some lunch to him he’d told her how much it pleased him.
Ashley remembered the look of delight on his face and knew he really meant it. Grandpa was never a man of false words. At least not since finding Jesus. She thought back to the things he’d told her about his past. Things he was deeply ashamed of. It was the reason he’d left Los Angeles and a lucrative partnership in the land business. Her grandfat
her had been a great salesman—and con man. He had a knack for convincing people of what they needed and then producing that exact thing. Even in getting Ashley to church, he’d been very persuasive. Had she not been so angry for the past, she might well have gone before now.
A sound from upstairs caught her attention. She strained to hear.
Nothing.
Maybe it was just my imagination. She finished the dress and put the iron aside to cool. Checking to make sure that Grandpa was asleep and didn’t need anything, Ashley picked up the dress and made her way upstairs.
Natalie’s room was closest to the stairs, and then next there was a small room that doubled as a sewing and guest room. At the end of the hall on the opposite side was Ashley’s room and next to it was their bathroom. It was all very compact and neatly ordered. Exactly as Ashley liked it.
Reaching her door, Ashley heard the noise again. She quickly hung her dress in the wardrobe, then made her way back to Natalie’s room. Through the closed door, she could hear her child sobbing softly.
Ashley entered the room quietly and went to Natalie’s bed. Sinking onto the mattress, she lifted Natalie into her arms and rocked her back and forth. “Did you have a bad dream?” Ashley asked.
“No. I just got sad,” Natalie admitted. She pulled away and pushed back her hair.
“Is this about Grandpa?”
Natalie nodded. “I tried to stay quiet.”
Ashley shook her head and smoothed back the errant strands of hair that Natalie had missed. The light from the hallway spilled into the room, casting a soft glow across them. “Darling girl, you never have to hide your tears from me. I love you, and what’s more, I understand the hurt you’re feeling.”
“But you grew up with your daddy. My daddy is gone and Grandpa is the only daddy I’ve ever had. Now he’s going away too.” Natalie’s lower lip quivered as her emotions overtook her once again.
[Desert Roses 02] - Across the Years Page 4