Sedona Sunset

by Tanya Stowe

  Lara tapped her toes and swayed against her will. Closing her eyes, she leaned back, certain she’d never heard anything quite so compelling. Vibrant, but airy, pure joy…like golden sun spilling into a darkening valley. Like the sunset she’d just watched...shared with Alex.

  Could it be? Her eyelids flew open. Was it her imagination? Alex was still watching her, waiting. He smiled, and she knew he’d seen recognition in her features. He let his fingers run down the strings in one triumphant chord. Then he slapped his hand against them to hold them perfectly still.

  Silence filled the room once again.

  After a moment, startled applause pierced the quiet. The people on the couch rose to their feet, clapping.

  Alex nodded, but never spoke. He was intent, already focused on the next piece. He and Bertoleo worked without words, Bertoleo anticipating Alex’s next song. They performed as if no one else was in the room…until Alex looked at Lara and a sense enveloped her as if she were a part of something rare, something imbued with antiquity and the passion of the ages.

  With each new song, Alex was speaking to her, sharing an image or an emotion through his music. She envisioned running streams, horses galloping through fields and couples swaying together in soft embraces. No music had ever touched her the way his did. For forty-five minutes, she stood still, enthralled as she shared his visions. And when it was over, she couldn’t clap or cheer. She was too full of wonderment.

  He carefully placed La Guitarra in Bertoleo’s hands.

  People rose to their feet. Others followed, giving him a standing ovation.

  Alex stepped forward, headed straight for Lara.

  Her heart jumped into her throat.

  The crowd surged toward him, blocking his way, but not before some realized his intentions. Heads turned in her direction.

  Milly Johansson whispered something to her husband, and he smiled.

  Lara imagined the questions forming in their minds, intrusive questions.

  No matter who or what Alex’s reputation was, his music was the most honest thing she’d ever shared with anyone. It was real. The thought terrified Lara. She pushed away from the wall and fled far from Alex and the gaze that singled her out. In moments, she slipped into the night.

  The moon had risen, dazzling and full, casting a silvery glow on the walkway as she came to the large, three-bedroom guesthouse she shared with Brett. By the time she closed the door, she was shivering from the cold and her wayward thoughts.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Lara leaned against the bedroom door and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, she heard his music. Haunting refrains. Mournful cries. Rhythmic beats. Clear and vivid, as if Alex and La Guitarra were in the room with her.

  Furious, Lara stalked across the room. She punched the on button of an alarm clock/radio atop a bedside table, and the pulsating beat of rap music filled the air. Moonlight spilled into the room through her open shutters. The canyon spread out before her, easing into the valley below. Across from her window, the canyon wall climbed a short way before abruptly ending. Above it was the brilliant moon and the star-studded sky. She raised the blinds so there was nothing between her and the endless night.

  It made her think of a gypsy fire. She needed to forget.

  Spinning, she turned up the volume of the radio. She moved to the rap song, swung her hips and spun, letting the abrasive beat pound the sounds in her head into silence. Finally, she was tired and breathing hard. Slipping out of the blue dress, she fell into bed. Just as her eyes drifted shut, she remembered she’d left the party without a word to anyone.

  3

  Lara jerked upwards in bed.

  Like something she’d absorbed into her skin, Alex’s music had oozed into her dreams, bringing visions of campfires and him…watching her. His gaze caressed, like the touch of his long fingers. The sensations lingered even as she tried to slow her breathing and adjust to the bright daylight coming through her open blinds.

  Sunlight poured into the room. Bright and full of reality, it should have dispelled the images. But it didn’t. Leaning back on her elbows, she studied the canyon in front of her. Bristly pine trees were thick with sticky sap and pokey pinecones. Massive rocks, gritty with dirt and sharp angles. Bushes with shiny leaves. The stuff of reality. The real world.

  The Alex in her dreams was a specter of the night, made of moonbeams and wishful thinking. The real Alex was very different. Too cultured. Too sure of himself with a string of lovers he knew how to please. He had probably used the guitar story on all of them…and she’d fallen for it.

  No. She’d fallen for his music. It had captured her heart and made her want to dance. For her, dance was medicine.

  When the doctors told her she might never walk again, she turned to dancing. Growing up, she’d taken a few classes and ballet had always been a part of her life.

  In her mother’s opinion, however, Lara’s position as an heiress and a patroness excluded participation. She had a role to fill, a responsibility to foster all of the arts, not just one. And so, Lara had never been allowed to take more than a few basic ballet classes.

  She didn’t realize how much she wanted to dance until the ability to walk was taken from her. Then the desire grew until it became an obsession. After countless operations, pins and plates, her legs began to heal. Lara used her obsession to drive the healing process. Someday, she vowed she would dance.

  Her father hired a tutor and day after day, she pushed herself, stretching unused muscles, demanding they conform to the rigorous ballet dictums. After a while, she’d been able to hobble about in a parody of dance, but recently she’d begun to move with grace.

  She’d become very good at ballet, something she’d accomplished in hours of practice after Brett, Troy, and Eliza had moved away. Her accomplishment was one of the first things she’d wanted to share with them when they came together again, but it hadn’t happened.

  Lara hadn’t heard Brett come in last night and now she wondered how she would explain her abrupt departure. Rising to her elbows, she saw a note under her door.

  Lara,

  I knew you were tired so I let you sleep in. I will send a car to bring you to the school at nine thirty.

  Brett

  She’d overslept. The school’s dedication ceremony was scheduled for ten a.m., and it was nine now. She barely had enough time to hop in the shower. Angry about Alex and his distracting music, she hurried to the bathroom.

  Twenty minutes later, she slid into black knit pants, chose a silky turquoise top and zipped a short, black jacket over it. She waited by the front door for the car to arrive.

  Attired in his usual black suit and sunglasses, the security man nodded and held the door for her. Lara stepped in and settled back.

  They traveled down the two-lane road to the canyon floor. The pine trees disappeared, giving way to desert brush and finally, the small resort community of Sedona.

  The town’s architecture was a curious mixture of leftover fifties and modern buildings. Like a town that had grown too fast, truck stop cafes were interspersed with strip malls. Boutiques stood next to insurance offices and everywhere, the incredible rocks dominated everything. The only skyscrapers were the massive red bluffs of the canyon walls. Even the fast food chains paid homage to them with their rusty colors and Southwest décors.

  The car passed through town. Nestled far off the main road, Lara saw the Fallon School of Art. The huge three-story edifice had the sharp angles and corners of modernistic design. A black cloth covered something on the large flat face of the gray-colored building.

  The school’s parking lot was full of cars, so the driver took a small delivery road around the scrub pinions to a side lot. He parked, and then led Lara through a maze of walkways to a raised dais in the front. Seeing Brett, Lara hurried forward.

  She and Brett had discussed the agenda many times. She played an important role in the opening ceremonies, but thanks to Alex, she’d managed to forget about it. Now she hurried up
the steps, regretting her hurried arrival. She should have been here, should have prepared.

  Brett took her hand and gave her a smile that never quite reached his eyes. Turning, he gestured to Troy. “Any time you’re ready, I think we can begin,” he said.

  Troy rose from his seat beside Eliza and walked to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.”

  The crowd in front of the dais shifted and focused.

  “As many of you know, this has been a long time coming,” Troy continued. “Sara Fallon and I talked about a school like this when we were struggling students. Over the years, our paths took different courses, but we never forgot the dream of creating a school for children with special talents. It’s taken two years of hard labor for Brett and I to bring the school to this point. We are very conscious that it would never have come this far if not for the generous support of Daniel Fallon and Sara’s many, many friends. Because so many of you have been a part of this process, we’ve asked you to join us here in Sedona for a week of celebrations…and we’d like to start it off with a tour of the facility of which we’re all so proud.”

  The crowd clapped. Troy raised his hands to quiet them. “But first, I’d like to spend a little time talking about the lady who was determined to see this school come to life. Brett….”

  Releasing her hand, Brett stepped up to the microphone. He took a moment to adjust it to his height and all the while, Lara remembered what Rupert Townsend had said about her father.

  Why wasn’t he here? He should have been the one to recite her mother’s humanitarian awards, the benefits she’d supported and the years she’d devoted to the arts before the car crash that killed her and almost paralyzed Lara.

  As Brett spoke of the crash, the crowd turned to her, the daughter who looked so much like Sara Fallon, but was really just a pale imitation.

  Lara hated this kind of attention, hated being compared to her brilliant, shining mother. No matter how hard she tried, she knew any comparison would find her lacking. She could almost hear the whispers.

  How could Sara and Daniel Fallon be the parents of such a lackluster child? Surely, some of their glow had to wear off on her!

  But no, there was no glow. Not even a shine…except maybe from her sweaty palms. She wanted to wipe them on her pants, but automatically heard her mother’s voice reminding her she was a Fallon. Her father’s representative. An example for everyone. Sweating somehow didn’t seem appropriate.

  She glanced at Brett again, hoping he would finish his speech, that the sight of him would instill her with confidence. But all she could see was his dark clothing. Black knit shirt with a high collar, jacket and pants.

  Except for a small triangle of turquoise at her neck, she wore black, too. New York attire. Appropriate for any occasion. But here, against the colorful red rocks and deep blue skies of Sedona, Arizona, they seemed oddly out of place…like two big, black vultures poised on a perch.

  Her gaze swept over the crowd and, suddenly, there was Alex. He stood a few rows back. His loose, flowing shirt and dark pants had disappeared, giving way to a pair of blue jeans and a crisp, green and blue plaid shirt. He looked comfortable and far too casually dressed for such an affair. But somehow, with the red bluffs behind and the miles of desert surrounding them, his manner of dress seemed more appropriate then hers and Brett’s. She glanced back at Brett.

  He’d stopped talking and was staring at her expectantly.

  Oh, no! She’d missed her cue. Or had she? She paused a moment more, hoping he would give her some sign.

  He just stared, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

  It was time.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned and pulled the black cloth covering off the school logo on the wall. The silky cloth slithered in the silence and the large art splatter design appeared. The multiple colors glistened in the morning sun. The words Fallon School of Art flashed with gold, and everything shimmered with brightness and hope.

  People clapped again.

  Brett raised his hand and gestured to the building. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join us.” Brett took Lara’s arm, leading her down the platform steps.

  The crowed surged forward. Her father’s money had built the school but it took the influence of her mother’s friends and associates in the art world to create the “buzz” necessary for its success. The school had been the talk of the art world for two years. Everyone—including Lara—was anxious to see what Sara’s dream and Daniel’s money had wrought. Lara’s anticipation built.

  Inside, the building was cool and well lit. One entire wall of glass looked out upon the open desert. Bookshelves covered the other side of the room and the smell of new bindings filled the air. A massive gray and brown flagstone fireplace straddled a corner, dominating the room. Arranged beneath it in a semi-circle, brown leather couches and cushions invited long reading sessions or periods of relaxation and visitation.

  Heading for the fireplace, Brett stepped onto the stone hearth.

  “This is the grand meeting room,” he said, addressing the crowd. “We’ll welcome newcomers here, hold lectures and special meetings. We see this as the heart of the school, a place for inspiration and companionship. We’d like to share the other two important sections with you, the classrooms and workrooms. I’ll lead the first group and Troy will follow with another.”

  Stepping down, he took Lara’s arm.

  A small group formed around him, Milly and her husband among them. She nodded to Lara and ducked her head.

  When about half the crowd had formed, Brett headed down the hall. He led them through the bright classrooms designed for maximum light and beauty. Most had large windows that looked across the desert. One spacious art room faced the back of the school and a majestic red bluff approximately one hundred yards away. The rock’s ragged, sharp face seemed to have been sheered off, a direct contrast to most of the gentle bluffs surrounding Sedona. This arresting rocky crag was different.

  Lara stepped closer to study it. Striations created different shades of red and gave the rock texture. Stunted pine trees poked out from nooks and crannies. Beautiful. It pleased her to think of the school’s students surrounded by such wonders. She turned to say as much to Brett, but he was gone. The tour had moved on.

  Startled, she was alone in the room…with Alex. She hadn’t even seen him in the group! How could he make himself appear and disappear as if by magic?

  He crossed his arms against his chest and studied the crag with rapt attention, as if looking for something. Without turning toward her he said, “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  She’d had dreams about this man and fallen in love with the music that flowed from his fingertips. That alone was enough to fluster her, but now, facing him, she was struck again by his vital presence. He dominated everything around him.

  Lara was disjointed, unattached…as if she were still dreaming. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

  “What were you thinking when you looked at it?”

  She couldn’t remember. All she could think about were the long, lean fingers gripping the sleeves of his shirt. “I—I was thinking how wonderful this will be for the students.”

  “I thought so.” His knowing tone jolted her.

  “How could you know that? You don’t know me and what you’ve heard is probably wrong.”

  He smiled. “I know you’re a dancer.”

  Startled, Lara paused. “Who told you? Who have you been talking to?”

  “No one. Everyone. You’re often a topic of conversation here at your mother’s dedication ceremonies.”

  Irritated, Lara turned toward the crag. “This was my mother’s project. Why can’t they talk about her?”

  “Because you are a beautiful, silent enigma. You don’t fit in. You choose sunsets over scintillating gossip, and spectacular mountains over tours where people are vying to be the first in line. They don’t understand you.”

  Something in his tone made Lara turn. “And you do?”


  That frustratingly knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again. “I’ve already told you what I know about you.”

  She looked away. “If you’ve been listening to the talk, then you’ll know you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not. They are,” he said with confidence. “If any of them took the time to really look at you, they’d see what I see, a woman compelled to touch an object of passion and love. Someone who can’t stop herself from dancing when she hears Flamenco. You’re a woman on the verge of discovering yourself, Lara.”

  His perceptive words unsettled her. “If you know so much about me, you also know I’m…promised,” she said abruptly.

  Instead of being put off, he smiled. “Ah, but Lara, there are…attachments…and then there are love affairs.”

  Lara bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged. “You’re here and Fraser’s there. You don’t strike me as a couple in love. If he’s even looked at you, he has to see what’s happening. He’s a fool to leave you alone. I would never allow someone else to share this awakening.”

  Awakening. The word vibrated through Lara’s body. It’s what she’d experienced when she’d looked at the sunset. As if she’d been in a long, long sleep and just opened her eyes. He had chosen the exact word to describe her feelings. Suddenly, she wanted to ask him more, to see herself through his eyes and maybe to understand. But a noise down the hall reminded her the tour had continued. Others would surely have noted her absence—hers and Alex’s. Startled and flustered, she hurried out of the room.

  Alex followed her, and they rejoined the tour.

  Brett appeared to be the only one to have noticed them missing. As they eased into the crowd, he stumbled over his words and stopped mid-sentence. It was a moment before he started again. “We’ve provided as many comforts as possible,” he said. “Many of our students will be far from home. We want their atmosphere to be as welcoming and conducive to creativity as possible. You’ve seen the classrooms and the gathering area, now I’d like to show you the workrooms.”