by Thomas, Thea
Sage and Millie giggled.
"I think we could all use some tea," Millie said.
"Oh, yes, please," Sage agreed. Sorry about all the paperwork on the counters in the kitchen."
"No problem. Anthony mentioned on the way over that that's why we were coming in the first place. I'll work around it."
The front door chimes rang through the house. "And I'll get that on my way."
The three of them listened as Millie opened the door. she called up the stairs, "Anthony, it's a detective. he wants to ask some more questions."
Anthony patted Sage's hand. 'I'll be right back."
There was a moment of awkward silence between Sage and Michael.
"How have you been?" Sage finally asked.
"Fine. Keeping busy." Michael's tone was cool.
"Are you... angry with me?" Sage asked, puzzled.
"No. No, I'm not angry with you. I'm just, I guess I'm confused."
"Confused by what?" Sage breathed deeply, willing the pain and fog in her head to stop so she could clearly understand Michael.
"I don't understand how you could have this Bill Rattnor anywhere around you in your life...."
"Oh. Well. You're right. Absolutely right. It's fallout from my being too nice. Why didn't I fire him before? I almost did, yesterday. And why didn't Aunt Vicky fire him? I don't know the answer to that question. Why I didn't fire him – I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't like him. I didn't trust him. But... I was, simply, too nice."
Michael nodded, still unconvinced. "He's a bad person."
"I know," Sage agreed. "I have the bruises to testify."
"Yes. you do. You're going to have that shiner for awhile."
"Shiner?"
"Black eye. Bruised face."
Sage brought her hand to her face, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. "Oh!" She exclaimed, touching her cheek. "Now, that's sore. I must be quite a sight." She waved at the little mirror on her dresser. "Can you hand me that?"
Michael hesitated. "No. I don't think I should."
"That bad?" She started to stand, cried out in pain and slumped back on the bed.
"Okay, all right. Ill hand you the mirror." He came over to the bedside with the mirror.
"Sit," Sage ordered, making him take the chair Millie vacated. She held the mirror up to her face and gasped. "Oh! Who is that? Wow. Swollen, black and blue." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
"Are you okay?" Michael's voiced was edged with worry.
"I'm okay. I'll be okay. Ya shoulda seen the other guy! Ha!" Sage leaned back into the pillows. "Yeah, I'm pretty sore."
"The doctor gave you some sort of injection and left pain meds."
"Good to know. By the way, thanks for carrying me up here. Sorry for the almost dead weight."
"You have a dark side, don't you?"
"I suspect it's temporary. A coping mechanism. But let's get back to why you seem to be angry with me?"
"Not angry. Just... mystified. Women can be very mystifying."
"True. Where are you headed with this?"
"Apparently Bill Rattnor acted as though he was interested in Millie, and it seems Millie fell for him – and his line. But he was only trying to get close to her because he thought she was a personal friend of yours. I don't know why he couldn't go to you directly, but...."
"Excuse me Michael, for a moment. I'm a little confused... aren't you and Millie, ah, a couple?"
"Millie and me? In a relationship? No. We're good friends, but, no. Why would you think....?"
"At Anthony's party you'd said something about seeing each other every day. That seemed, you know...."
"We work together. She delivers the mail at Micro Silicon. I see her every day. Sometimes twice a day. And we often play racquetball on the week-end."
"Oh. I see. That clarifies my confusion. Now back to your confusion... you think that I'm somehow responsible for Bill and Millie?"
"No. Of course not. She's an adult. She learned... whatever she learned. I 'm just frustrated that neither of you seemed to see what was patently obvious in the first fifteen seconds after I met him. I just don't understand how you could be associated with someone who is so... unethical."
"Well, I already said. Anyway, I agree with you completely."
Right then, Millie came back into the room, carrying a heavily laden tea tray. Michael leaped up and helped her situate it on the bedside table.
"Millie, Michael has just been telling me about how awful Bill was to you, too. I am so very sorry to hear it."
Millie poured tea, but shot Michael a glance. "Oh, well, my problems are nothing compared to what you've gone through. I count my blessings that he dropped me like he did."
"Yes. We all do," Sage agreed, sipping at her tea. "Oh, this is wonderful! What did you do?"
"Boiled water, poured it over tea leaves." Millie handed a tea cup to Michael, who stood awkwardly, holding the cup.
"Well, you did a superlative job of it. I don't think I've ever had tea this delicious."
"I warmed some half and half and pour that in it too. Makes it rich, and will help you relax."
"Lovely. Thank you. Right now it looks like Michael is the one who needs to relax."
"Sit down, Michael," Millie directed.
"Okay." He returned to his love seat.
"What's the matter with you?" she asked.
"Lots of things, probably. Mostly right now, though, I think I did wrong to talk with Sage about you and that nut case."
"No. You did right. Now everything is out in the open. I can't deny that I was taken by him. I really did love to listen to him talk about his work."
"His work as an attorney?" Sage asked, surprised.
"Yes. It was fascinating. I let him talk for hours."
"I can't imagine it! That kind of talk just makes my eyes cross."
"Well," Millie sat on the little bedside chair, blew on her tea, a reflective mood settling on her features, "I was going to be an attorney. I went to law school for two-and-a-half years."
"What?!" Sage and Michael exclaimed together.
"Yes. But it was not to be."
"I've never heard a word of this," Michael said, clearly amazed.
"What happened?" Sage asked.
"My mother got sick. My three brothers and sisters were little kids at the time and my dad had checked out long before. I had to come home to take care of the kids. Then... my mother passed. And, so, that was that. The kids are in college now. Two are in law school. Pretty cool, yes?"
"And you did that?" Sage said in a whisper. "Put them in law school."
"No. I made them work so hard in high school that they got scholarships. I'm no dummy."
"No. Clearly not." Sage looked at Michael, who was looking at Millie like she'd just grown up from out of the floor.
"You never told me any of this. You've talked about your siblings. But you never told me any of this. Why didn't you?"
Millie smiled endearingly at Michael. "You've not had this kind of loss. You wouldn't know what it's like. But Sage has had terrible losses. She's knows what it's like. Anyway, it's just time to let it out."
Sage took hold of Millie's hand. "I'm sorry, Millie. Truly saddened to hear your story. But perhaps there's a silver lining. I know you have a full time job. But would you like a part time job? You just might be the blessing in this whole fiasco. I urgently need someone to make sense of whatever it is that Bill Rattnor has done with Aunt Vicky's estate. Is it of any interest to you to try and sort it out? It's a lot, and maybe it's more than you'd care to take on. But I know Anthony will help you, and I'll do whatever I can, which, frankly, is little more than just – give you a paycheck."
The glow in Millie's eyes let Sage know she was onto something.
"I'd love it! Purely, love it."
"We'll have to see about getting you back on track with law school, too."
"Thank you, Sage. Thank you! I'd give you a hug, but you're too wounded. Virtual hug." Millie hugged her
self.
"Virtual hug returned." Sage grinned, even though it hurt.
"Awful warm and fuzzy in here," Anthony said, coming through the door.
"Virtual hugs all around," Sage said, quietly offering up gratitude for her amazing friends.
Chapter 10
They'd all stayed overnight at Sage's in various guest rooms, retiring after a feast of delivered pizza. Millie and Michael agreed that it was a good thing the next day was Sunday and they didn't have to go to work, plus they could keep an eye on Sage and make sure she was all right. By Sunday evening, Sage was up and moving about. Stiffly, but clearly on the mend.
After hunkering down over the Petrol-Fill files for a couple of hours with Anthony and Millie, making considerable headway in sorting out the illegal activities of Bill Rattnor, Sage insisted that they get back to their lives, just as she had to get on with hers.
Michael felt increasingly uncomfortable around his uncle's doting on Sage, and was profoundly relieved when they gathered themselves and left, with gentle hugs all around and Sage promising Anthony she'd call him later that evening.
After dropping Millie off at her home, Michael had never been so relieved to drive into the garage of his little condo. The range of emotions he'd experienced over the previous twenty-four hours wiped him out.
He'd thought that he would go to work and put in a few hours, but as he kicked off his shoes by the back door, he realized he only wanted to be alone. In fact, he wished he were somewhere else altogether. He wanted to get away from everyone. He flung himself onto the sofa, pulled off his horn-rimmed glasses as if they were a weapon and rubbed his eyes.
He even wanted a break from Millie, as much as he liked her. He wanted time to think about the different person she'd become, now that he knew all these things about her she'd kept from him.
He wanted to have time to consider himself. Who was he? he wondered. Someone that his best friend – or so he thought – would not tell him her most important dreams and life goals? Yes, he heard what she'd said, but it didn't wash. Millie had known him for ages and had only recently met Sage.
He drug himself off the sofa, took a long, hot, shower hoping to fall deep asleep. He hadn't slept even two hours last night between worrying about Sage and trying to get her out of his mind.
And that was the real problem, the core problem, the irritating problem.
He had to get away from Sage. Completely away from her. Just how deeply he'd fallen in love with her in the previous two days he hadn't realized until now, relaxed, showered, in bed. Lonely beyond belief. Lonely.
From the moment he looked into those amazing eyes when she rolled down the limo window a crack, until just a couple of hours ago as she waved good-by to them at her front door in an over-sized bathrobe, hair tousled, black eye, face swollen, bruised and bare-footed, she had crawled deeper and deeper into his heart, until there was no deeper place to burrow. The way his feelings for her expanded his heart, he knew it was about to break.
He could quit his job, move back east, return to the life he previously lived. Or he could move to Scotland. He could be contented, ignorant of love.
But it would not be possible. As the proverb said, "A bell once rung cannot be un-rung." The bell of his heart had been rung. Or wrung.
If Uncle Anthony and Sage got married... no, he amended, when they got married, Sage would be his aunt and he, Michael, would simply have to learn to get over these feelings for her.
It was plain to see she was calm and happy around Anthony. Uncle Anthony deserved the best. Sage.
After his hot shower and a restless couple of hours sleep, Michael decided to go to work after all. He would work all night and all day tomorrow, bury himself in computer chip anomalies until he dropped. He' tell his boss tomorrow morning that he needed some time off, then he'd leave for he rest of the week.
He needed to be alone and he needed to be in nature.
....................................................................* *
After working eighteen hours straight, Michael took off at noon on Tuesday, went home and crashed, with the intention of leaving early the next morning. But he woke up after a few hours feeling an urgency to get on the road. He packed the Audi with tent, sleeping bag, books, gold panning equipment and a map of the southwest, with a highlighted "X" on Gila National Forest.
He drove through the night stopping only for gas. Pre-dawn teased the eastern sky as he headed into the forest. Rolling down the windows the chilly early morning air bathed him like a tingling shower, and as he stopped at his stream-side destination, stunning shades of orange and pink shot through the sunrise clouds. He stretched his long but cramped and tired legs out of the car, extended his arms toward the horizons, filled with gratitude for all the beauty around him. Then he heaved a deep, blood and pore cleansing sigh.
The line, "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with," crossed his mind. He followed the thought with a wry grin. Nature was the one he was with, and he did love her.
If fact, it felt so good to be here in the peace and solitude, delighted birds singing the sun up, the sun warming his sad heart, that he continued to breathe deeply until he became dizzy. He sat, crossed-legged on a large, perfectly flat rock at the edge of the little rushing brook and watched the water, pure and sure of its course, dancing over the rocks.
Why, he wondered, would I ever be in any place other than one like this? The strain of work, of the drive, even of his pre-occupation with Sage, abated and flowed down stream with the baptizing water.
Eventually he came out of his meditation, but remaining in a reflective state of bliss he pitched his tent, then arranged rocks into a fire pit. That's when his raging hunger came on in force. Somewhat surprised, he realized he'd not thought of food since he left his condo. Now, with the brisk fresh air, his appetite clamped on him with a vengeance. He jumped back into the car, and returned to the truck stop he'd passed. He quickly bought emergency rations; coffee, milk, a few canned goods, a can opener, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and grabbed up a novel at the checkout counter, determined to spend as little time around other humans as possible.
Back at his campsite, he wolfed down a couple of peanut butter sandwiches and a can of fruit cocktail. Then he unrolled his sleeping bag under the shade of a leafy tree and slept the sleep of the pardoned.
When he woke, the sun was falling into the western horizon. "Now I'm backwards," he scolded himself. But he didn't care. He got out his lantern and the novel he'd picked up at the truck stop read himself back to sleep.
For three days he did nothing but bend over his little stream, panning for gold. He even came up with a few sparkly little bits, although he wouldn't have cared much if he hadn't, he so loved simply hearing the brook and the birds sing, and feeling the warmth of the sun on his back. For three nights he quickly feel asleep over his book before hardly reading a page. He had yet to even crawl into the tent since he'd befriended the tree by the stream.
The fourth night the near-full moon hovered overhead making sleep impossible. Michael reveled in the stealthy wonderland of the deep shadowed beauty. He panned for gold in the silver moonlight. Hunkering over his pan, little flecks of gold actually sparkled and reflected in the chilled light.
This was living, he thought. Sleeping and waking according to my own, internal clock, responding to the environment. Loving... no, more than love, being the planet. He tried to remember the last time he felt this happy, relaxed and at peace. Not surprisingly, he recalled it was the last time he went gold panning.
When Michael awoke late the next morning, responsibility tugged at him. He'd soon have to return to civilization. But he felt ready for it. He realized his work was not so much different, really, from gold panning – bending over very small things looking for what was precious.
He soon broke camp and headed back through Flagstaff. He wanted to take a few hours going through the Museum of Northern Arizona, rich with information of the beautiful
southwest and its people.
As he walked into the museum, he was thrilled to see the commitment to Native Americans, hall after hall stretched before him with the promise of untold artifacts.
A little old man at the doorway dressed in a Navajo patterned shirt, and bedecked in turquoise jewelry, looking as though he'd stepped out of one of the exhibits, asked Michael to sign the guest book. Michael signed, glanced over the many books for sale in the gift shop, promising himself that he'd give the books more attention after going through the museum.
He walked down the hall and turned to the first showcase. His heart seemed to stop in his chest, and then banged around so that he had to reach out to hold onto the railing. There before him was an 11 by 14 inch portrait of Sage, only with brown skin, intense brown eyes and long black hair, holding a beautifully woven basket.
The caption read: "The Elgin's did important work in preserving the traditional arts of the Zuni people. It was a great loss to Southwest ethnography when they perished in a small plane crash in the Gila National Forest...." and text went on.
Michael, glued to the spot, studied the beauty, joy and calmness in the face of Sage's mother. To think he would never meet her, to think that this is what Sage lost, to think that he camped somewhere near where she and her husband, Sage's father, left this world... he became very nearly overwhelmed.
All the balance he'd regained in the last few days fled, leaving him hollow and sad. In the showcase, along with the actual basket that Sage's mother held in the picture, was a display of bright, high quality turquoise, the color of Sage's incredible eyes. He continued to stare at Sage's mother as if he'd put down roots, oblivious to the people passing him, peeking around him at the display. Finally he heard a small boy ask his parents, "What's that man looking at?"
"Shhh...the jewelry," his mother answered, dragging the boy by the hand to the next display.
Michael smiled. Something in him shifted, and he knew he could be friends with Sage, and put the other feelings to rest. She had no family. She needed a brother, not some dopey guy pining for her. She came from a tribal background, where family comes first.