At seeing his opportunity, he took her in her arms. First, she tensed but then rested her head against his shoulder. “Funny what comes back to bite us.” In a way, his situation was no different. Both he and his father hid the truth from his mother, and except for a select few no one knew he had to get married or lose everything.
She nodded. “Sort of like not having a more refined back-up for your wife?”
“Actually, that worked out in my favor.” No, maybe she wasn’t his typical choice, but he couldn’t picture anyone else in her role. Was that the answer to Jade’s question?
She looked up at him.
“What’s your favorite food?” He studied her. Though gorgeous all dolled up by the makeup artists, he thought he preferred her as her natural self.
“I can’t tell you, it would be bad for my reputation.” She gave him a slight smile.
“Come on. Lay it on me.”
“Rib eye steak, rare.”
“Sounds good.” He laughed. A juicy piece of meat. Intriguing. “What were you like as a child?”
The scant bit of humor lighting up her eyes dimmed and she shrugged.
“Where did you live? Where did you grow up? How did you end up with Nan?” He finally dared ask only a few of the questions piling up in his mind.
She turned away.
The more she didn’t answer, the more he wanted to know. “Willow.”
“Why is it so important?” She refused to look his way.
“I want to understand you.” He took her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him.
“Why?” Her eyes searched his.
“Because I want to.” He lowered his face to hers. “Because right now I don’t care that there are people asking where we are, because I don’t care that you’re standing barefoot outside at night, because you are here with me and I want to know.”
“Do you think we could go to Sedona before we go to Vermont?” She reached up and moved his hair off his forehead. “I think it will put us back on balance.”
His only image of Sedona was hippies and red rocks, though her talk of balance sounded promising. “If I say yes, will you let me in?”
“I need you to open your mind and celebrate the return of the light with me.”
His wife spoke her own language. “I will head toward the light.” The light better be where he found some answers.
Jeb trotted over.
“We should get back to the house.” She bent down and picked him up.
“You are right, Mrs. Van Ayers.” He picked up her shoes, took her hand and headed toward the house when he heard the sound of a woman’s laughter.
They both stopped.
“Cuidado con las manos, Vincent.”
Willow squeezed his arm. “Randolph, that’s Nan.”
“What did she say?” He loosened Willow’s grip.
“What did you say, Nanette?” The definite sound of kissing made its way to their ears. “My gorgeous, voluptuous Nanette.”
“I said watch your hands, Mr. Hartford.” Nan giggled some more. “And your tongue.”
He and Willow looked at each other.
With wide eyes and a grimace, Willow put her hand to her chest. “Are they having sex?”
Oh Lord he prayed not. “He’s using his tongue somewhere.”
“I knocked a glass out of Ms. Hartford’s hand earlier.” Willow handed him Jeb and hid her face in his shoulder.
“Well, it doesn’t sound as if her brother is holding it against you.” Unwilling to witness his client and his sort of mother-in-law using their tongues or anything else, he guided her the long way back to the house.
“Will you come with me to go freshen up?”
“Yes, I will.” He kept his dog and his wife close, snuck into the kitchen and headed right for the laundry room.
“Thank you for taking Jeb out for some air.” Still, she didn’t move.
“I suppose we all need air, and I suppose they have a lot of it in Sedona.” He put Jeb down and gave her a hug, liking a bit too much how she stayed close by his side. Once more, Jade’s question echoed in his mind. “Yes, we need air and balance.”
He supposed he would get the answers in Sedona.
Chapter Eleven
The pounding of the drum matched the pounding in Randolph’s head, while some squealing flute reverberated through his skull causing him to wince. After a forty-five minute walk through the Arizona wilderness, carrying a backpack of his and Willow’s clothing and supplies, he saw nothing but red, literally. Everything around him was red, the rocks, the ground, and the sky. Unless someone produced some nice red lips in a convenient spot, he was completely done with the color.
When he agreed to go to Sedona, he pictured a spa. The type his mother frequented on vacation. She would leave in the morning to be massaged, exfoliated and polished, while his father played golf, went to a casino or did whatever his father did when the man wasn’t handing out orders. Several hours later his mother would return rejuvenated and primped so they could go to dinner. Yes, he expected a spa maybe mixed with some incense and granola. He never thought he would be hiking to a clearing in the woods preparing to spend the night in a tent.
Actually, he would have gladly spent the night in a tent, on a dirt floor, or on another planet if he could get his wife to speak to him about anything other than the weather. The Willow who watched him, blushed and blundered, but then made love to him disappeared completely after the party and left in her wake a quiet, distant woman who seemed to avoid him at every turn. After the business dinner gone bad they traveled over rocky terrain, but the night of the party he thought they moved beyond. Apparently, he was mistaken because in the three weeks since the party the woman seemed intent on ignoring him.
Rather than a celebration of the winter solstice, he should have gone on a vision quest. His vision – Willow, his quest – figure out his wife.
“Welcome Willow, Nanette.” A woman in an embroidered orange robe took their hands in hers. “I am so blessed to see you again.”
“Suzanne.” Willow motioned toward him. “May I present Randolph Van Ayers?”
Along with losing the flushing cheeks and the sex, he lost his title along the way. He flashed the woman a smile and held out his hand. “The husband.”
“Oh, I expected big changes for Willow this year.” She gave him her hand. “Is this your first experience with welcoming the light?”
“Yes.” With night upon them, he flipped up his sunglasses and looked the woman right in the eye.
She smiled. “I will be your Shaman guiding you through this journey.”
“Then may I ask you a question?”
“Of course, ask anything.” She gave his hand a squeeze.
“Will the light also lead the way to truth? A time for full disclosure to welcome in the New Year?” He needed to plant the seeds.
Willow turned to him. “Randolph.”
“Randolph is right. Use this time for reflection of yourself and of your relationship.” Shaman Suzanne reclaimed Willow’s hand. “Oh, I feel it.”
“What?” Willow’s voice took on a dreamy tone.
“The energy between you two.” The woman closed her eyes. “It’s a thunderstorm and when it hits the ground it creates fire. Harness that power and together the two of you will do great things.”
Well, they may not create actual fire, but Willow’s cheeks went up in flames turning positively red, the color of the hour. Maybe there was one shade he could still tolerate.
“What about Nan? What do you feel with her?” Willow deftly deflected the attention away from her.
The Shaman opened her eyes, put Willow’s hand in his and turned to Nan.
Along with him, Nan was also in Willow’s doghouse. At least he wasn’t alone. Since Mr. Hartford put his hands and his tongue to use, Willow widened her distance. The few conversations he caught between the two only dealt with topics regarding the store or Jeb.
“Nanette.” The woman nodded. “A bit of excitem
ent you haven’t had in a long time is sizzling through you. Make sure you take advantage and take care of yourself.”
Nan simply laughed.
Willow dug her nails into his hand.
He winced, but since she didn’t pull away, he didn’t move.
“Why don’t you join the drum and flute performance and spirit dance? We will then be retiring to our tents to reflect on the solstice and awake for a sunrise stretch. We will take your bags so you can enjoy.” Suzanne gave them a smile and two men came over and held their hands out.
Nan surrendered her satchel. Only because he was out of his element did he surrender his backpack. Also, because he hated backpacks.
“Go enjoy the earth and each other.” Like a theatrical performer, Shaman Suzanne motioned behind her as if welcoming them on stage.
He let Willow lead the way to a circle marked off by stones. In the center some musicians played and other attendees of the event gathered around.
Willow chose her spot and sat right in the dirt. He took a breath, glanced down at his jeans to bid them adieu and sat next to her. Gravel seemed to cut through the denim, but he swallowed back his complaint, instead remembering that Willow owed him a talk and he wanted her to be comfortable.
He scanned the area. Willow fit right in here with her billowing clothes and hair, her lack of obsession with material goods and the need to connect with her surroundings. Why couldn’t he get her to connect with him?
For a moment he simply watched her, took in her profile, with her perfect upturned nose and her pouty lips. Even without makeup her lashes extended long, creating the ideal frame to her eyes. Maybe rather than her connecting with him, he needed to connect with her.
He moved her hair off her shoulder. “Tell me about the music.”
“It just speaks about the sacredness of life. It celebrates the return of the light, the New Year.” She leaned into him. “Close your eyes and try to feel the music rather than just listen.”
Fine, he would try it her way, but before shutting his eyes he took her hand.
The music continued and he tried to experience it in a new way. He concentrated on the throb of the drum, the lightness of the flute and how Willow’s hand finally relaxed in his. Her hand fit within his, soft, smooth, small. He brushed his fingers against her wrist and smiled after he found her pulse.
“What is it?”
“Your heartbeat matches the beat of the music.” He opened his eyes.
Once more, her cheeks reddened. “Randolph.”
“What made you interested in all this?” He pulled her closer and brought her hand to his heart. “Tell me something, anything.”
She stared into his face.
“Was it Nan? Did you grow up with her?” He needed some clue as to what made his wife his wife.
She licked her lips. “Nan told me to choose what I believe in.”
He waited.
“I believe in a higher power, I just never knew what.” She looked beyond him. “I didn’t want to exclude any belief, so I tried to be open to all of them. I’m really looking forward to Christmas.”
Her words replayed in his mind. At last she gave him something. “You never celebrated Christmas before?”
“You never celebrated a solstice before.”
“You never celebrated the more traditional holidays then.” He moved over into her line of vision.
As he learned, she answered how she answered any question she wanted to avoid, with silence, or sometimes an added attraction of a shrug. With his question he got the shrug as well.
A weight settled right in the center of his chest. No Christmas? No holiday? Even in his insane asylum of a home, they had all the trappings of the holidays, simple things that served to ground them as a family. He could count on his mother being more excited over the gifts than anyone and his father buying his way out. As a child his grandfather always purchased the gift he wasn’t supposed to have and his grandmother allowed the junk food. “Willow.”
The music ended.
“We need to go get settled in the tent.” She used him for leverage and stood.
Once more she put him off, but they made headway and rather than forcing the situation, he got up and together they found their tent.
Tent.
“This is a tent.” Though he spied the little triangles set up around the campsite, he didn’t really expect to be staying in a tent. Honestly, he assumed they were only for show and somewhere off in the distance there would be some sort of building or a bus to take them to a proper hotel.
“Right, I told you we would be staying in a tent.” She pulled back the flap. “You never went to summer camp or anything?”
“I went to summer camp.” He bent down and peered inside neglecting to tell her they stayed in cabins and had a staff that waited on them. In truth, the cabins were more like five-star hotels. Well, four-star, they were roughing it. At least their backpack found its way back to them, and took up a good portion of the space. “Ladies first.”
Willow took off her shoes and crawled in.
He followed suit, slipping and landing on an air mattress. “That was unexpected.” As unexpected as the skylight in the roof he spotted when he rolled over. At least the place wouldn’t be claustrophobic.
“You’ll be okay.” Willow grabbed their backpack.
“I’m not so sure about that.” He watched her dig through their bag.
“I made us some food, are you hungry?”
Not quite sure if there was any such thing as a solstice feast, he nodded. “I don’t think you have made me anything to eat yet.” Curious, he wanted to discover what she would produce.
“Nan may be allowed in the kitchen, but I think Clara and Chef would rather me stay far away.” She giggled and proceeded to take out some containers with fruit, cheese and crackers and some cookies.
“I have no doubt you are welcome to cook or do whatever you please anywhere in the house.” He sat up. “They probably just want to serve you.”
“I always feel bad having them do things for me, especially when I can do for myself.” She arranged her treats on a plate and put it between them.
“You’ll get used to it.” He sampled one of the cheese and crackers.
“Is everything tasting good?” She handed him a bottle of water.
She didn’t respond to his comment, but he let it slide. Instead, he opened the bottle and tilted it in her direction. “Best I ever had.”
She smiled.
They sat in silence and finished their makeshift meal. He reclined on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. The top of the tent consisted of some plastic and mesh giving him a window to the sky. “I have a confession to make.”
“Oh really?” She took a sip of water and adjusted her pillow.
“I’ve never spent the night in a tent before. I also never spent a day in tent before.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
She gasped, let out a noise and coughs wracked her body.
“Willow?” He shot up and grabbed her, patting her back. “Are you all right?”
She caught her breath and went into a round of laughter.
He put his arms around her and joined her.
With laughter still claiming her, she collapsed against him.
He lay back, taking her with him and for the first time ever, they simply laughed together.
At last the giggles died down. “I never pictured you the type to go camping.”
“I never pictured you the type to either, but in a different way.”
“I’ve spent many nights in a tent.” She started to push away from him.
Again, she let something out and he held her in place. “Stay here.”
“We are supposed to use this time for reflection.” She moved until she lay by his side.
“I’m trying to use it for enlightenment.” He turned to her. “About you.”
“I don’t know what you want.” Her breath brushed against his lips. “There’s
nothing to tell.”
“I disagree.” He reached down and took her hand. “I want to learn about you, why won’t you tell me?”
She flipped over to her back. “The stars are amazing.”
He ground his teeth together. If they were celebrating the light, her New Year, he needed some answers. “Willow.”
“Are you going to be able to sleep here?”
“Why would you ask?” He balled his hand in a fist.
“Last year I spent my time staring at the stars. This year the first thing I noticed was the air mattress.”
He willed himself to remain quiet.
“The mattress back in your room is incredible. It’s just perfect. I never understood why you have a problem sleeping there. The other day I looked under the sheets and found the label with the manufacturer. I think if I buy nothing else next year, I’m going to buy that brand of mattress.”
“What are you talking about?” He pushed himself up and stared down at her. “I ask to know something about my wife and all you talk about is a mattress? What are you hiding?”
Her focus remained on the sky. “You hide every day. You stifle your creativity and deny what you want to do.”
“I have too many responsibilities to do what I want to do.” Unlike her, he would give his spouse a straight answer.
“No. I think you’re ashamed of what you want to be. Maybe ashamed because you don’t have the guts to go after it.”
Rather than spew the first words to come to his mouth, which most likely involved a profanity, he took a breath. “What are you ashamed of Willow?”
She didn’t move.
“What are you so ashamed of that you can’t tell me? What have you hidden away so deeply that I can’t find any trace of you anywhere except for a birth certificate with only your mother’s name?” He kept his tone even, calm.
She continued to gaze into the sky.
“What makes you not spend one penny of the money you get from me except for the bare necessities, but you will spend thousands on a mattress?”
“You might understand if you ever didn’t have a mattress to sleep on.” She sat up.
“What are you saying?” Again the weight pressed down on his chest, especially as all the clues filled in the picture.
On The Dotted Line Page 17