Spark

by J. P. Scott

  I filled the water bowl and Beau began lapping up his morning drink while I filled his food bowl. I set the coffee pot and started to pull out items for breakfast and set them on the counter. Beau finished his food and grabbed his ball and stood at the door to the porch. With a hot cup of coffee, I took him outside to begin throwing the ball. The day itself was beautiful, but seemed more peaceful knowing that Cody was inside sleeping. I was content with my single life and enjoyed my space most of the time. Sharing a place with someone did not always work out well; other personalities could sometimes fill the room. Cody and I seemed to have a balance.

  After a couple throws, Beau tired and laid down next to me. I listened as the cabins came alive. Somewhere someone fired up some off-road vehicles and headed towards a trail on the west side of the complex. Soon each cabin would be occupied and the quiet moments would be harder to find. I was glad for this moment.

  I heard the sound of Josh running and tried not to look his way, but I could not help myself. He was shirtless, sweaty, and focused on the road ahead of him. I could see the cords coming down from his earbuds and wondered what he listened to while he ran.

  I had to admire his body. I did not know I had a type, but clearly up in the mountains all the men I liked were muscled and fit. Josh’s ass bounced with the rhythm of his run and tempted me.

  “He’s hot.” I jumped at the sound of Cody’s voice. He stood at the screen door and opened it as I turned, “Who is that?”

  “That’s Josh. His uncle owns the cabins. He came to help out now that George is sick.”

  Cody sat down in the other rocker. I looked at his outfit—boxers and a t-shirt. In fact, they were my clothes.

  He read my mind, “I hope it’s okay that I raided your clothes. I promise I’ll take good care of them.”

  “You look cute…and better than I ever could in them. I might rip them off of you later though.”

  “I look forward to it,” he smiled before lifting his coffee mug up to his lips. “So how well do you know Josh?”

  I averted looking directly at Cody. How much should I tell him? And how much would I give away without really meaning to? “I’ve been helping out in the office. I know a lot about how George runs things from my years of visiting.”

  “I hope you get to see him naked while you work.”

  “Well…maybe.”

  Cody smiled, “Remind me to come visit you when you’re working.”

  I let the comment go without any other remark. Thinking and talking about Josh right now was not what I really wanted. I wanted this time to be about us. This could be the memory we looked back on and told friends about when we first started dating. Was this really our first date? Drinks, sex, and a lazy morning? Finding the right guy should feel easy, right? If so, this was easy, and Josh was a complication.

  “Tell me more about you, Cody. I know you’re a fantastic top and Molly and Jim think you’re a great help at the restaurant. What else should I know?”

  “I’m happy to help out at the restaurant. Jim and Molly are great. I think I’ll learn a lot about the business that I would never learn in a hospitality class. As a mentioned last night, I would like to move down to the Valley. I keep reading about so many great restaurants and chefs doing some amazing things.”

  “Are you interested in running your own place? Getting into the kitchen?”

  “I don’t think I’m much of a chef. When I saw the food that you laid out on the counter, I got a little nervous. I can prepare a few things, but I’m not sure I could wow you. I usually just pour myself a bowl of cereal to start my day.”

  I laughed and remembered when I was first on my own. I often did not know where to start when it came to preparing meals. It took time to feel comfortable win the kitchen and to explore with food. In bed, Cody felt experienced and mature, but that did not mean he was the same in all areas. We all have different journeys.

  “I would like to run my own place someday. Maybe I’ll find a chef that I can partner with and figure out a concept that we both like. Each of us can run our own parts of the house.” He drank more coffee and looked out at the trees around us. “I wish there was more of a chance to do that here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I grew up around here. I love the rural life. I love that we are sitting here and no one’s around. I don’t look forward to noise and the crowd of the city.”

  “The city has its own charm, I guess.” I also loved the quiet up here at the cabins. I was always more productive with my writing since distractions were hard to come by—at least before this summer with the unexpected encounters with first Josh and now Cody.

  “Do you ever think about living up here when it’s not summer?” Cody’s pointed question caught me off guard. I honestly had not ever thought about it. Winter temperatures dropped down to highs in the 50’s with a few inches of snow from time to time. I had lived in worse. Still, the weather in the Valley was close to perfect in the late Fall to early spring. It had everything I wanted—but did it? Was there more beyond the weather that I should be considering? If things progressed with Cody and he found opportunities to pursue his dreams here, would I be willing to change my life for him?

  “I guess I would worry that I would get bored. I imagine it gets pretty isolated after the summer tourists hit the road. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I like you. And I know it’s a long way off, but I’d like to think there might be a chance for something real and lasting.” He took another drink of coffee and looked me in the eyes with a confidence and wisdom I would expect from someone George’s age rather than Cody’s. “I don’t know what the future holds, but it’s nice to know I could be facing it with someone rather than alone.”

  I reached over and grabbed his hand. I had forgotten how daunting the future looked through young eyes. When I was Cody’s age, I was unpublished and unsure whether I ever would be. I had struggled with the option to go all in or find other work that provided stability. I had faced that alone and it had not been fun. The thought of a partner at my side did sound like it would have made things easier.

  It was true that it was too early to know just what this was. I believed it was more than a night of passion or a minor infatuation. Most likely it would be a summer together, but then what? If I went home and he stayed here would the distance begin to erode what we had? Or would we be able to carve out enough time together to keep the relationship growing?

  “We will figure things out when its time,” I finally said—more to myself than to Cody, trying to turn off the worried thoughts that were sprouting. We had the same concerns. Was this real? Would it last? For me, these fears stemmed from a life of having loved when maybe I should not have loved. What about Cody? Had he been in love before and hurt?

  Cody squeezed my hand in response, “Should we go get breakfast started?”

  “Sounds great. Do you have to get to work at a certain time?”

  “Not until this afternoon—so no rush. We can get to know each other a bit.”

  We stood up to go inside and rejoined our hands, playfully rubbing the other’s hands with our fingers. If every day could be like this, I would have no reason to leave.

  Chapter Eleven

  The day disappeared faster than we wanted it to. Breakfast and chit-chat were followed by kisses and cuddling in bed. We held each other and felt the heat in our skin. Finally, Cody pulled himself up and got dressed.

  “When do I see you again?”

  “Come hang out at the restaurant tonight.”

  “I can probably do that.”

  I stood and grabbed him close and kissed him again, trying to give him the deepest part of me so he knew that I had feelings for him. Maybe that would quell his fears about what might happen to us at the end of the summer.

  We parted and sighed, wishing the demands of the world did not have to come between us that day. Cody left to walk home to finish getting ready for work and I busied myself with cleaning up the place.


  I caught sight of the box of papers that I brought home as homework and decided I should tackle that before it became a perpetual procrastination. I opened the lid and started to lift out folder and papers. The musty smell of the forgotten documents tickled my nose.

  Most of the records seemed to be George’s ledgers of who checked in, the date, amount owed and paid, followed by the cabin number. I scanned names out of curiosity, hoping an important figure from Arizona history might show up. It never hurt to be able to claim that a former Governor, Senator, or other public figure stayed there. People pulled to the side of the road to read plaques all the time. A point of interest could lead to further exposure to the cabins and possibly an expanded tourist season. George might even be able to charge more for a particular cabin if it could be linked to a celebrity of some sort. Nothing jumped out at me, but I made a mental note to ask George if he remembered anyone who might be some sort of celebrity who had stayed here—even if it was for a night.

  Even though I did not read each page, I made sure to flip through everything. People loved to tuck scraps of paper into books thinking they will remember and retrieve it later when needed but then forgot about it. There could be photos, letters, or other keepsakes that might be important to George. It would be nice to surprise him and make him smile with a happy memory.

  I soon had a stack of scraps that were garbage: receipts, a coupon for soup that expired twenty-five years ago, and various blank strips of paper that served no other purpose than a bookmark. I studied those pages where I found something with extra care. It paid to thorough, in case they had something special on them. However, I found nothing of note. There were no balances due, no hint that a guest had been fined for damage after some incident, and no sightings of a celebrity.

  I also had a small stack of newspaper clippings. Some from Payson. Others were from Phoenix. I soon saw these were related even though the dates of their printings were sometimes years apart. Grayson Whitlock—often referred to as Gray—was featured in the articles. His small graduating class was listed in the Payson paper in 1986 and his name was underlined. There were a couple clippings from the sports pages; he had made some key plays for ASU and called out by the writer. A photographer captured him on the sidelines, his football helmet off, hair soaked and unkempt from an active game, and a look of concentration towards the field. The caption identified him as a team captain and that the Sun Devils had kept their opponents from scoring, thanks in large party to Gray. Other articles that not focused directly on Gray but only mentioned him; they still bore the underline beneath his first and last names to ensure anyone reading it would spot him. There was an announcement that Gray was returning home to open a dentistry practice in the mid-90’s. The most recent clipping was a wedding announcement to a local young woman named Valerie; the two smiled in a posed picture.

  The articles were faded from age but also seemed to have been handled from time to time, wrinkled from the grip of the reader. There were also spots where the ink was smeared because the page had gotten wet—a spill from a beverage? Rain? Or tears?

  I put the clippings in their own folder and decided I should make plans with George for lunch or dinner. Maybe he would open up about his younger days and the history of the place. Was Gray a relative? Friend of the family?

  The largest piles were the ledgers themselves. George would know if they needed a thorough review but they showed nothing in my mind. I did find the Van Waartens mentioned a few times in the late 90’s. The rest of the ledgers for the following years were waiting for me in the boxes down in the office. I secretly wanted to see the ledgers showing my own stays—those I might try to keep. Semi-famous author pens mediocre novels in cabin five. That might be the only candidate for a plaque to lure tourists. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

  Satisfied with the work, I put the ledger back in the box and secured the lid. The folder of clippings I wanted to keep out and add to when I went through the remaining boxes. There might be more articles about Gray that I would want to present to George all together if I could. The pile of scraps that I had identified as trash I tossed in the fireplace. One cool night I might light a fire and the paper would help serve as kindling—some of my writing had ended up in the fire when I determined it should not ever be read by anyone other than me.

  Beau appeared at my side and I realized the afternoon was over and evening was upon us. It was time for a walk to clear the brain. I remembered Cody’s invite and smiled that I would soon see him.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You devil.” Molly pinched my arm.

  “What is that for?”

  “You’re hooking up with Cody, I hear.”

  “How did you--?” How would anyone know Cody was over that night? I doubted any other guests paid any attention to what was happening at my place.

  “He said you would be stopping in tonight and then turned scarlet and set about trying to be too busy for any of my questions.” Molly’s smile was broad with excitement. “I can put two and two together on my own. All I had to do was ask and you confirmed it anyway. Sit down and talk to me.”

  I took the second seat down the bar and Molly pulled herself up into the first bar stool. “I barely fit between these arm rests.”

  I thought about taking that cue and leading her into a discussion about the babies to distract her from asking about Cody and me. I knew that would be futile to attempt. When she was focused on something—particularly gossip—she would not let anything distract her for long. I might as well just let her know what she wanted to know and move on.

  “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” she giggled. I was sure she wanted every last detail. I looked around and the other patrons in the bar and restaurant. It was noisy but our conversation could easily be overheard by those closest and by anyone who chose to tune into us. They might not be too comfortable with all of the details of my night with Cody.

  “He came over last night after work with the bottle of wine that you suggested. We talked…it got late…” Molly’s eyes grew wider, “…he stayed over… then coffee and breakfast this morning.”

  “For a novelist you’re an awful story teller. That’s an outline! Not the actual story that matters!”

  I rolled my eyes. I had to give her something or she would never relent. I also anticipated that Cody would come out from the back at any moment. I did not want to cause him any embarrassment knowing his boss was sitting here learning about his personal life. “All I’ll say is that for a young guy, he sure knows what he’s doing.”

  “We’re fancy. We do get porn up here, you know. It’s easy to pick up a few tricks.”

  I blushed. Molly and I had discussed racy topics before, but it surprised me sometimes how open she was to say certain things. It was not inconceivable to believe that she had watched porn at some point in her life—I just did not want to think about it or what role that might have played in getting her to her current pregnant state. “It’s more than the mechanics. He’s confident and sweet.”

  “You like him?”

  “I do. Very much.”

  Molly giggled and tried to do a little dance in her seat. She winced and rubbed her belly. “They’ve been kicking up a storm all day. Wanna feel?”

  I shook my head. “I’m good. You can also take me off the babysitter list.”

  “Whatever. You’d be good with kids.” I was not so sure. One kid would be a handful—how would I manage with twins?

  Cody appeared from the back, saw me and stopped, then smiled. “Glass of wine?”

  “Gladly. Red, please.”

  Cody grabbed a bottle of the house red and poured me a glass. He glanced at Molly who nodded. He poured it fuller.

  “On the house, too,” Molly said. “But just the first glass.”

  Cody popped open a new beer for the guy two seats down and then circled around to check on a table in the dining area. I watched him move through the room and studied him when he did no
t know I was looking. Was it just me that he was nice to? It was not. He listened as each customer spoke and smiled with the same smile—even to the Farnhams who were in the corner booth. Leah did all the talking while David looked out the window not even acknowledging Cody’s existence.

  Jim appeared and called my name. I rose to be taken up in his embrace. Jim was a giant of a man with broad shoulders and strong arms. He intimidated with his appearance but anyone who knew him could hardly imagine him starting any trouble. There was no malice in him, only an eagerness to be your friend and to make you feel special and important. No one could get away from Jim’s hugs.

  “Sorry I’ve been so busy and haven’t made it out to see you.”

  “You have a lot going on. But it’s good to see you.”

  Jim elbowed me, “I know there’s someone else you’d rather see.”

  I suddenly felt like I was in junior high when “dating” started on a broad scale but it was still so new to most of the kids in school that we also teased each other mercilessly about it as if there was something scandalous about it unless I told someone.

  “I’m happy for you, buddy.” Jim slapped me on the back and I thought he might go for another hug. Instead, he shifted his weight from foot to foot unable to contain his excitement.

  “I appreciate it—but let’s put a hold on wedding plans just yet. Things are very new and who knows where it will go.”

  “I know—Molly and I think the world of the two of you, and I hope this sticks.”

  It had been awhile since I had been in a deep and meaningful relationship. Never had it been in a fish bowl environment like I felt this was now. Molly and now Jim seemed to know everything that had been going on with Cody and me. Who else was watching and aware of what was going on? Life in a small town was definitely bigger than a city. When I was in Phoenix a relationship could start and end and no one else in the world would know anything about it.

  Molly must have picked up on the cues that the situation was making me uncomfortable. “We should be getting home. I need to put my feet up.”