The Time of Aspen Falls

by Marcia Lynn McClure

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  “It’s kind of muddy right up here,” Rake mumbled. His brow puckered into a frown as he studied the ground near the little bridge. “The rain last night must’ve been heavier down here.”

  Aspen didn’t care about mud. She’d just spent ten minutes in a pickup with Rake Locker driving down to Corrales, still astonished at the perfection of his costume—rather the perfection of him in the costume.

  She looked up into the evening sky—into the lattice of green and yellow cottonwood leaves overhead. The sun was making its lingering descent, casting warmth and shadow over the valley.

  “I keep forgetting to bring some boards down here to put over this mud,” Rake added. “Remind me when we leave to bring a couple with us. Nobody else will probably be coming this way…but you never know.”

  Aspen looked at the mud then. It was fairly sloppy. Still, even the mud did nothing to dampen Aspen’s opinion of the beauty of the area. She could hear the river from where they were—the one mighty Rio Grande as it wound its way through the valley. The irrigation ditch in front of them was lined with green grass, and she smiled as a toad hopped from the bank and into the water.

  “It’s okay,” she said, starting toward the bridge. “I can just—”

  She gasped, however, when she found herself unexpectedly swooped up into powerful arms. Instinctively, Aspen placed one arm around Rake’s broad shoulders, entirely captivated by being held by him—pleased by the sudden yet faint scent of his inviting cologne.

  “Nope,” Rake said. “You’ll get your little fairy shoes all muddy if you try it.” Cradling her in his strong arms, he stepped into the mud. “These boots will wipe off fine in the straw once we get to the barn.”

  He carried her through the mud and over the bridge. Letting her feet fall to the ground on the other side, he said, “The barn isn’t far.”

  “Have your grandparents lived here long?” Aspen asked as she fell into step beside him.

  “Fifty years,” he said. “They moved here just a few years after they were married. They still own about fifty acres along the river here.”

  “Wow! That’s probably a gold mine. Riverfront property in Corrales?” Aspen asked.

  “Oh, yeah…but I hope they never sell it. I love it out here,” he said. “I hope you have fun tonight,” he added. “I’m kind of worried that you’ll be bored and then never go out with me again.”

  Aspen smiled. “I’m more worried about being boring,” she admitted.

  “Impossible,” he said. “Though…I kind of wish you would’ve worn that pink dog outfit…instead of being all soft and glittery.”

  “Really?” Aspen asked. He didn’t like her costume? She’d thought he had! Back at the apartment, he’d said…

  “Of course not!” he chuckled.

  Aspen smiled and tried to ignore the heat rising to her cheeks.

  As they stepped out of a grove of cottonwoods, she saw the barn. It was charming! It was an old barn—rustic-looking—nostalgic. The main doors were open, and warm light glowed invitingly within. Straw bales were stacked outside the barn on either side of the open doors, covered with lounging scarecrows and flickering jack-o’-lanterns. It was wonderful! Strings of tiny white lights lined the barn roof, windows, doors, and along the path leading from the grove of trees to the doors. Aspen could smell cider, pumpkin pie, and fresh-baked bread. Low laughter and voices danced on the air—the sounds of inviting merriment.

  “Looks like the family is already there,” Rake said.

  “The family?” Aspen gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.

  Rake looked at her and chuckled. “Sure! My mom and dad…my grampa and gramma…sister, brother-in-law, brother…a few cousins and aunts and uncles.”

  Aspen held her breath. His family? She hadn’t even thought about meeting his family!

  Rake smiled, revealing his dazzling white teeth and fangs. He reached out and took hold of her hand. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You already know my gramma.”

  Aspen nodded and forced a grin.

  “But I probably should warn you,” he began, appraising her from head to toe, “my grampa will love you in this!” He tugged on her hand. “Come on.”

  Aspen felt her feet move—followed him even though every instinct told her to turn and run.

  Moments later she stepped into the warm-lighted barn. Instantly, every head in the building turned and looked at them—turned and looked at her. Aspen couldn’t keep herself from moving closer to Rake.

  “Mi hijito! You look so handsome!”

  Aspen watched as the most beautiful Hispanic woman she had ever seen hurried toward them, arms outstretched and welcoming. She was dressed in a red-and-black flamenco dress, a high-standing black comb embellishing her piled ebony hair.

  “Marissa said this would be perfect on you…and it is!” the woman said. Her thick local accent was comforting somehow. She threw her arms around Rake and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Hi, Mom,” Rake said, returning his mother’s kiss.

  Rake’s beautiful mother then turned her attention to Aspen. She smiled—the same smile as Rake, only void of fangs. Placing her hands on Aspen’s shoulders, she said, “And you must be Aspen. You’re beautiful, mi hija!” She studied Aspen’s costume for a moment and added, “A fairy tonight, huh?”

  “Y-yes, ma’am,” Aspen managed.

  “Aspen, this is my mom…if you haven’t already guessed,” Rake said.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Locker,” Aspen said. She reluctantly released Rake’s hand to offer hers to his mom, but the woman either didn’t see her hand or chose not to. Instead, she hugged Aspen tightly.

  “You call me Valentina, mi hija,” she said. She smiled and sighed—an obviously pleased smile and sigh. “You’re lovely. She’s just lovely, Rake!”

  “I know, Mom,” Rake chuckled. “But quit gushing. You’ll freak her out.”

  Valentina Locker made a long s sound with her tongue. “I’m not freaking her out, am I, mi hija?”

  Aspen smiled and shook her head.

  “Come on,” Valentina said, placing an arm around Aspen’s shoulders. “Come and meet everyone. You’ll get bored if you have to spend the whole night talking to only Rake.”

  Aspen glanced at Rake anxiously. He winked at her, nodding his assurance she would be all right.

  “Joe!” Valentina called toward a group of people standing near a long table laden with food. “Look what your son has managed to drag over here!”

  A tall, handsome man, dressed in a pirate costume, turned and smiled as his eyes fell to Aspen. She could see it then, Rake’s resemblance to both his parents—the beauty of his mother and the physique of his father.

  “Hello!” the man greeted as he strode toward her. It was Rake’s stride. Rake’s father offered his hand, and Aspen placed hers in it. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “All good, I hope,” Aspen said, forcing a smile.

  “Oh, there she is! She’s here, Joseph! Guy Falls’s niece!”

  Aspen glanced over to see Mrs. Claus—rather, Charlotte Locker—dressed as Mrs. Claus, complete with a red dress trimmed in white fur and a sprig of holly tucked in her coifed hair. She rather quickly waddled toward Aspen, pausing for a moment. “Joseph!” she called over her shoulder. “You remember me, don’t you, honey?” Charlotte asked, throwing her arms around Aspen in a warm embrace.

  “Of course, Mrs. Locker,” Aspen said.

  “Charlotte…remember?” The older woman winked at Aspen.

  “Yes,” Aspen answered.

  She gasped then. It was him—the very same elderly man she and Gina had often seen riding near the river or at Wagner’s produce! He wore worn-out Levi’s, a nicely pressed, long-sleeved white shirt, and pristine straw Stetson. A large scar traveled down one side of his face, and his hands were leathery and gnarled. He was perfect—the perfect elderly man—the kind everyone wanted to have for a grandpa.

  Aspen smiled and felt warm
and giggly as the older man reached up and removed his hat. He nodded and said, “So you’re Guy Falls’s granddaughter?”

  “His niece, dad,” Rake’s father said.

  “Oh, yes! His niece,” old Joseph Locker said. “I hear you’ve taken real good care of that old French Westminster of Guy’s.”

  “I-I’ve tried to, sir,” Aspen stammered. He was wonderful! They all were, of course, but the elder Mr. Locker was such a throwback to a different time. He was mesmerizing!

  “And I’ll say this for Rake,” Joseph began, studying Aspen from head to toe. “If he’s smart…he’ll haul you on outta here and straight to the pickup for a little necking!”

  Aspen felt a heated blush rise to her cheeks as Charlotte and Valentina simultaneously scolded, “Grampa!”

  Rake’s grandpa smiled and winked at her. “Well, if he’s got any of his grandpa in him…he’ll get around to it sometime tonight.”

  Relief washed over Aspen the moment she felt Rake’s hands on her shoulders. He stood behind her, chuckling. “You guys will scare her off before I get the chance, Grampa.”

  “But everyone will want to meet her, hijito,” Valentina began. “You must share when—”

  “I’ll share later, Mom,” Rake said, taking Aspen’s hand. “I’ve got to feed her…build up her strength before everyone else gets here to mob her.”

  “You’ll be fine, sugar,” Rake’s father said. “We’re not nearly as bad as all that.”

  “It-it’s nice to meet you all,” Aspen managed.

  “It’s nice to meet you, mi hijita,” Valentina said. She glanced up to her son and frowned. “What’s this?” she asked, reaching up and pushing Rake’s upper lip back as if she were inspecting a horse. “Fangs? Why you got fangs on? I thought you were a gentleman tonight.”

  “I am,” Rake said. “A vampire gentleman.”

  “Yep! He’s planning on doing a little necking tonight,” Joseph laughed. “That’s my boy!”

  Rake chuckled as he hugged his grandpa and then his father. He kissed his grandma on the cheek before taking Aspen by the shoulders and turning her toward the food table.

  “I want Aspen to try Mom’s tamales before they’re all gone,” he said.

  “Try the green chili stew, Aspen,” Valentina said. “I changed my recipe a little this time.”

  “Okay,” Aspen said, smiling as Rake directed her closer to the table.

  “They can be a little overwhelming when they’re all together,” he said as he picked up a plate and a napkin.

  “All families are…aren’t they?” Aspen said. Her knees were fairly knocking together with nerves.

  Aspen watched as Rake used a pair of tongs to lift two delicious-looking tamales out of a warming tray. He put them on the plate in his hand, turned to her, and asked, “Two or three?”

  “Only one!” Aspen exclaimed.

  She watched as he removed the corn husks from each tamale, tossing them in the small plastic-bag-lined barrel at the side of the table. “Red or green chili on that?” he asked.

  “Red,” Aspen answered. “But I can do it.”

  “Naw,” Rake said, smothering the tamales with a ladleful of red chili sauce from a nearby bowl. “I want to make sure you get enough to eat. Quieres frijoles?”

  Aspen nodded and watched as Rake plopped an enormous spoonful of refried beans on the plate next to the tamale.

  “How much do you think I can eat?” she giggled.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll eat what you don’t.”

  Aspen felt her eyebrows arch in astonishment. Surely he didn’t mean to eat off her plate—food she didn’t finish? They hardly knew each other!

  “Here,” he said, handing her the plate and picking up a bowl. “You will love my mom’s green chili stew.” Aspen smiled as she watched him ladle far too much green chili stew into the bowl. He picked up two napkins, two forks, and two spoons. “Let’s go. We can come back for seconds.”

  “Rake!” Aspen’s mother exclaimed as Aspen followed Rake to a little table sitting off to one side of the barn. “Algunos tienen modales, hijo! Ve por tu propia placa!”

  Aspen giggled, understanding enough Spanish to know Rake’s mother had just scolded him for having such bad manners—for not giving Aspen her own plate.

  “This is her plate, Mom,” Rake said, setting the bowl of green chili stew down on the little table. “We’re sharing.”

  Aspen was delighted when Rake’s mother rolled her eyes and exclaimed, “Híjole! You think you raise a boy right.”

  “You sit down, and I’ll get some drinks,” Rake said. Aspen smiled at the way he held her chair for her and pushed it in as she sat down. “Milk, cider, water, or pop?”

  “I think milk,” she answered.

  “You’re not a weenie, are you?” Rake chuckled.

  “Not usually,” Aspen said. “But I can smell your mom’s chili and…well, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Okay. But I’m sure you can handle it.”

  Aspen watched Rake walk to the food table—watched him talk to an older man who had just entered the barn. She glanced over to his grandfather, the weathered, old, bowlegged New Mexican cowboy. He was leaning up against one wall, his attention fixed on Aspen. He winked at her, and she smiled. His mother and grandmother were busily greeting more guests at the entrance to the barn, and his father was pouring fresh cider from a press barrel and into pitchers. It was too wonderful, all of it! Pumpkins were piled in every corner, and jack-o’-lanterns dotted the food table as centerpieces. Red chili ristras hung from strong beams overhead, some strung with white lights. Straw bales lined the room, obviously intended as places to sit, and the scent of green and red chili spiced the air. It was heavenly! Yet the most heavenly thing about it all was Rake.

  Aspen smiled as he returned to their table, stepped over the back of his chair, and sat down.

  “There you go, weenie girl,” he teased, handing her a glass of milk. “Eat up!”

  He handed her a spoon and pushed the bowl of green chili stew toward her.

  Aspen dipped her spoon into the bowl. She held the spoonful of stew under her nose for a moment, inhaling the delicious, familiar scent of green chili. She blew on it a little. Her taste buds exploded with pure pleasure! The flavor of the chili was superb—the best she’d ever had.

  “Oh my heck!” Aspen exclaimed.

  “It’s good, huh?” Rake chuckled.

  “Yes!” Aspen said. As the familiar, magnificent burn of good green chili began in her mouth, Aspen took another bite. “Honestly…it’s the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I know,” Rake agreed. A strange thrill ran through Aspen as she watched Rake dunk his spoon into the bowl of stew. There was something a little too intimate about sharing a meal—on only the second date. Yet Aspen was pleased to know he liked her enough to do so—surprised that she liked him enough to do so.

  “Try the tamales,” he said. “They’ll ruin you for life.”

  Aspen giggled and cut into red chili-drenched tamale. Again, her taste buds were under the illusion their owner had died and gone to heaven.

  “Oh my heck, Rake!” Aspen couldn’t help but exclaim.

  “I know,” he chuckled. “I love fall…and the holidays. My mom cooks a lot this time of year.”

  Aspen paused in taking another bite, momentarily distracted by the magnificent perfection of his costume. How did she get there, sitting with a vampire gentleman from another century—the most intriguing, gorgeous man she’d ever met?

  As they ate they talked. Aspen was overwhelmed with delight at being in Rake’s company. He was so very interesting, and again she was struck by how easily they conversed.

  His mother had inquired as to how Aspen liked the green chili stew and was delighted by Aspen’s sincere, gushing compliments. More and more people arrived, and Rake introduced her to his sister, Marissa—who was at least as beautiful as his mother—his brother, Mark—who looked the most like Rake’s father
of any of the siblings—and many other family and friends.

  Everyone she met was friendly and welcoming and dressed in some of the most wonderful costumes she had ever seen. Aspen’s nerves had quickly subsided, and now she sat on a straw bale next to Rake, watching the people at the barn party mingle, laugh, and eat.

  “Your grandparents sure know how to throw a party,” Aspen giggled as she watched Rake’s grandpa dancing with a little girl of four or five.

  “That’s because they’re real,” he said. “They don’t know how to entertain. They just know how to have fun.”

  Aspen nodded. He was exactly right. She’d been to the parties given by the partners at her father’s firm. They were nothing like this! Stiff, serious, formal, and impersonal—that’s what “entertaining” meant to Aspen too.

  Abruptly, Aspen was distracted by applause, increased laughter, and a sudden mass exodus of the barn. Everyone was rushing out of the barn for some reason. She thought she heard music too.

  “Come on!” Rake said, his face lighting up with excitement. He stood, took Aspen’s hand, and fairly yanked her off the straw bale.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “They’re here!” he answered, smiling at her. His smile dazzled her as usual, and as he led her outside, she wondered if she were really walking—or walking on air!