Mayne Attraction: In The Spotlight

by Ann Mauren

  I wanted to see if the truth mixed with a little reverse psychology would get me off the hook, just slightly.

  He glanced over at me and half smiled, with one eyebrow raised. Then he yawned and said, “Thanks for coming, Little Feather. I’ll get back to you on the payment plan.”

  Well, that didn’t go like I’d hoped. Little Feather? What’s that supposed to mean?

  I thought about letting it slide; letting fear of embarrassment beat out curiosity. But Gray was clearly disappointed when I didn’t pursue it, so against my better judgment I asked, “Little Feather? Is that my Indian name?”

  He laughed and replied, “No. That would be ‘Runs From Shadow’, I think,” and he laughed some more at his joke.

  I laughed too. It was true.

  “Little Feather is what I started calling you behind your back after we talked about that Radiohead song you like, where he says “you float like a feather…in a beautiful world,” he replied, singing it in a perfect mimic.

  I just smirked and rolled my eyes, refocusing on the view out my side of the car. We’d had lots of discussions about music, lyrics in particular, during travel or down time in Iceland. Understanding the lyrics to songs I liked, and even those I didn’t, was an obsession for me. He had quizzed me exhaustively about the content and my interpretation of countless tunes. When it came to one of my favorites, he couldn’t understand why I identified with the singer and not the subject in the song ‘Creep’. I couldn’t understand why it mattered so much to him—still mattered, apparently. Now I absolutely let it go. Mercifully, he didn’t pursue it any further, and we finished our drive to Louisville International in companionable silence.

  After dropping off the rental car we made our way through security and then checked in for our flight. Once we had our seat assignments, in first class, of course, Gray accompanied me as I followed the smell of Cinnabon to its source. Having this particular brand of monster size sweet roll swimming in butter and sugar was very nostalgic for me. It reminded me of Grandpa. He had always indulged my sweet tooth the way beloved grandparents often do, and we both especially loved Cinnabon in this regard. If things had been different for him, he’d probably be sitting here now, eating one of his own and then helping me with mine. Then again, probably not. It would have already happened, about a year ago, and none of us would be here today.

  Our first flight carried us to Minneapolis for a brief stopover to refuel and switch out a few passengers. It was only for twenty minutes but I had no desire to leave the plane, so I declined Gray’s offer to join him while he stretched his legs and picked up a USA Today. My desire was to see my very well concealed love interest. He was supposed to be on our flight but I had not yet identified him, even though I had been carefully searching for him. I began to wonder if perhaps he’d reconsidered.

  So it was with a mixture of relief and pleasure that I finally saw his gorgeous face seconds after Gray deplaned. He did not speak to me. He just caught my eye and nodded to the back of the plane as he stopped at my row, as if allowing me to exit. I jumped right up and walked purposefully past the first class lavatories for the more distant facilities in coach, at the very rear of the plane. No one was looking when I stepped inside the unoccupied airplane bathroom, and I thought he’d follow me in, since that obviously seemed to be the plan. But he did not. He turned and stood, as though waiting for me to waste my precious stolen moment with him taking a pee!

  Whatever.

  I grabbed his arm and pulled him inside with me, pushing past him in the cramped space to lock the door.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded in a whispered version of yelling.

  What was his plan supposed to have been? Meeting up in the cockpit?

  I felt embarrassed for a split second, but I was so happy to see he hadn’t abandoned me that I completely forgot the rules and acted on instinct. I stretched onto my tiptoes to kiss him. Since I was still miles wide of the mark, I had to use my hands to tow his glorious, yet hilariously confused face the rest of the way down to my lips. It was brief, but very, very sweet.

  I thought he might ‘yell’ at me some more, but instead he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled up and away to rest his chin safely on top of my head. I hugged him tighter, since that was the only option left at this point. Then, in one of those moments where afterwards I remind myself why it’s a good thing I don’t speak very often, I sighed, taking in the pleasure of the moment, and said, “I think the Mile High Club must be over-rated. Being together like that while camping would still have to be more comfortable, don’t you think?”

  I was alluding to our ‘deal’ when he talked me out of going on his camping trip with Ray.

  Wrong answer.

  He was visibly shaken and pushed back, in the non-existent space available to do that. I was immediately apologetic and repentant.

  “I’m sorry. That was a bad joke.”

  He let me reel him back in to a hug. I tried to make atonement by correcting myself with, “On our wedding night, in some romantic and beautiful setting. That will be the most comfortable…and proper.”

  I moved my chin in an affirmative nod, trying to underscore my absolute conviction in those words, while also trying to catch his eyes to see if he was buying it. He still looked shocked to me, but he nodded back in return. He was truly honorable. I hated myself for teasing him. He deserved better than that.

  “Ash? Promise me that you won’t let me scare you off with one of my bad jokes, okay?”

  If I did, I’d definitely deserve it.

  He nodded speechlessly again.

  I paused to collect my thoughts. Then I said, “I want to tell you something. I didn’t mention this before because I thought you’d probably try to talk me out of it…”

  There was absolutely no doubt he would have done just that.

  “But, I just want you to know that I’m not going on this trip to make you jealous, or to see what life would be like with Gray, or because I couldn’t wait for you to take me yourself…”

  His face was ambivalent.

  “It’s because I think I’ll be able to figure out the reason for the surveillance while I’m with Gray. But don’t worry, I’ll be very careful not to get you fired—” he interrupted me with a real yell, fueled with angry energy.

  “Ellery Mayne! You will do no such thing! You do not have to put yourself though this, not like this—”

  I suppose I should have felt hurt at his tone with me, but instead I was jazzed. I’d never heard him speak my whole name before. It was silly, but it stirred up that happy but sick twist in my stomach that I usually felt just before seeing him.

  Somehow, my mind stayed focused, despite his tone and my abstraction, and I knew exactly what to say to cut the power as I interrupted him right back.

  “Ash! I’m ready to start my life with you. The sooner I figure this out the better…for me.”

  Putting it like that pulled the plug on his argument. His eyes turned from winter to spring in an instant…warming me…again.

  For the millionth time, I tried to reassure him of his hold on me.

  “Now, don’t forget. This isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you. In fact, to help me through it, I’m imagining a time when I’ll be on a trip like this…with my husband.”

  And then I gently patted my most treasured organic possession of all time and for all time: his heart, leaving mine behind in his custody as I slipped out and returned to my seat in first class.

  Chapter 28 – Banff

  The plan was to couch the actual survey work in between fun things. Gray’s father, Dan Gregory, would be joining us in a day or two, so we would be on our own to do some tourism until then.

  It felt so grown up to be travelling internationally without a parental authority fussing over me. Of course I had Gray holding my hand (literally) the entire way and a squad of protectors at my back, so the sense of freedom and maturity was mostly imaginary. I wondered what it would be like for all of us
if I were to disappear.

  We flew into Calgary, collected our rent-a-Jeep, and drove west to Banff, a trip of about two hours, one hundred and ten minutes of which I slept through, because invariably, extended time in the car puts me out like a narcotic.

  Our first destination was The Fairmont Banff Springs, the very finest hotel in the city. It looked like an old world castle nestled at the edge of a stately pine forest with a lofty snow capped mountain as a backdrop. I was intimidated and immediately felt self-conscious about my choice of clothes. I probably wouldn’t have gone quite so casual if I’d known what to expect here. Seeing the people come and go in the lobby was like watching a parade of beautiful and rich tourists, where each one was more lovely and wealthy than the next. Gray melded seamlessly with this scene, of course, but I felt like I stood out in erroneous contrast.

  He must have anticipated something like that from me because after arranging for the Bell service to transport our luggage to our rooms, he guided me back out to the car and down the street to the shopping district and into a specialty clothing store. I recognized the ‘Roots’ logo from the winter Olympics a few years back.

  Oh good. Champion clothes—very appropriate.

  “We have an expense account to use, and part of that is for proper apparel while we conduct the survey. This is something we need to take care of, so let’s get it out of the way now, and then we’ll be able to focus on having fun.”

  He’d caught my mood and was smoothly trying to corral my insecurities, which were always on the verge of a stampede in his presence.

  The store’s manager, Sherri, reacted to him in exactly the manner you would expect any female might to an unbelievably handsome customer with a bottomless wallet, enthusiastically providing her services as my personal shopper. I did not hear what the bottom line was on the apparel allowance. I figured it was probably imaginary anyway.

  There was no telling what he said I needed (maybe one of everything) but she brought out more clothes than I had in my closet at home for me to try on. Because the store’s focus was on the rugged and rustic side of fashion, I felt confident that I’d be the most expensively dressed hiker ever to hit the trail. Now I had a new reason to be embarrassed. I just couldn’t seem to win the battle of the self-abused self-esteem. But the upside was that I would look good trying.

  Though I had been very skeptical when she handed it in to me, one of the outfits I tried on was, I had to admit, adorable, once it was on. I said as much to myself, and to my chagrin, Gray had been standing closer than I thought and must have overheard me. I figured that out when the sales lady very firmly insisted that I come out and let her see how it fit. They were both smiling encouragingly at me as I stepped out to be reviewed. I just couldn’t imagine being less comfortable. Even a chat with a psychologist about my feelings seemed preferable to this.

  “Well, that looks very nice. Why don’t you just wear that out of the store? Can we get some scissors for the tags?” Gray inquired.

  Through foot-dragging and passive aggressive attempts at uncooperativeness, I was able to limit the actual number of runway walks to about four or five outfits, but we came away with six heavy bags full of clothes. He probably told her to just pick out what she thought would look good on me, in fact I was certain that’s what he had done, because the clothes I actually tried on could have fit in one bag.

  What my mom couldn’t get me to do after months of failed attempts, Gray had accomplished in about thirty-five minutes, on his first try. And as embarrassed and self-conscious as I was, at least I felt more like I looked like I fit in at our hotel. And the whole episode seemed to please Gray very much, so I guess it could have been worse.

  More discomfort was on the agenda, it seemed, as we drove right past the hotel. Gray saw my look and quickly explained.

  “There’s a place I want you to see while it’s still sunny. It’s particularly beautiful in the late afternoon. The weather is unpredictable around here, so it might be now or never. We don’t have to stay long…I know you’re tired. Will you humor me, though?”

  How could I say no that that? I just shrugged and smiled, unconvincingly, I was sure.

  We pulled into a mostly deserted, tree-lined parking area that opened to a fairly wide turn in a riverbed. ‘Mostly deserted’ meant only two or three cars in the lot and a handful of people—a couple with two small children, and a lady jogging with her dog. There was a thick layer of medium to large rocks, some ranging up to boulder size, lining the shore. As we made our way across the lot and around the paved path, I could hear the sound of a waterfall, the unmistakable aquatic thundering noise you can hear with your ears and feel with your feet and in your chest. Gray scooped up my hand and I just went with it, too tired to resist or scheme my way out of it, and too interested in discovering the source of the sound to do any mental wrangling.

  “This is Bow Falls. Isn’t it beautiful?” he asked.

  It was exactly that. The water tumbled down and over large boulders in a straight edge across the entire river, bowing slightly as it raced toward lower ground. It reminded me of Niagara Falls, especially the jumbled chaotic look of the big rocks at the bottom, with misting white froth—just not as tall, and no annoying site-seeing boats in the way. I could understand now what he meant about the afternoon sun. As I looked past the falls, upstream through a valley into the heart of the wilderness, the long rays of sun and the deep afternoon shadows added an ethereal quality to the slopes and peaks that stretched out for an eternity beyond. It evoked Fanghorn Forest, from Lord of the Rings, and I began to hear melancholy sounding Middle Earth theme music in my mind.

  We sat on the ledge where the concrete of the path met up with the big rocks of the shoreline. I considered the idea of hiking in the middle of that trackless wilderness, and living for a time inside its borders. It was deeply appealing but at the same time intimidating, frightening even. It was something I could never do alone and it was one of the reasons I was here with Gray now.

  I was lost in my thoughts when he pulled me back to reality while at the same time he pulled me up from the ledge, my hand still captive inside his own. I knew I should resist it, but maybe because I was tired and worn down my mind played tricks on me and I imagined how I would feel about this moment with this man if there were no other. Was there another? If I needed proof from friends or relatives I couldn’t get it. Was he a figment of my imagination, tiding me over until this dream had come true? There was a digital love letter on a jump drive and an amazing locket he’d given me, but I didn’t have them at the moment. Had I dreamed them up as well?

  I looked around for Ash, trying to set myself straight. It was completely empty now—no people and no cars…anywhere.

  “You should take a nap when we get back,” Gray observed, and he laughed softly at me.

  I guessed that I must look as tired as I felt.

  “I can carry you back to the car, if you’d like.”

  He said this so seriously that I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. That might be a good way to smoke Ash out of hiding though. Yes, he was real all right. And he was here now, watching from somewhere close by; my senses were confirming it.

  I made it back to Gray’s car under my own power and we returned to the hotel. He handed me my key card after he opened the door for me, stepping inside to drop off the entire size four short inventory of the Roots apparel store.

  “We’ve got dinner reservations at eight, so that gives you about an hour and a half. Can you be ready by about five till?” he asked.

  I will never be ready for this.

  But I nodded and turned to enter my room.

  Then as if remembering a lost thought he said, “Oh, this is a five star restaurant, so it’s formal. I wasn’t sure if you’d be prepared for that, so I had something appropriate sent up for you to wear…if you want it…just in case.”

  And he smiled that mischievous half smile I loved but feared before disappearing from view.

  Formal? Oh
great! Something ‘appropriate’? Even better.

  There was nothing in the outdoor store that could remotely be mistaken for formal, so now I was really curious where he’d had my mystery formal outfit sent up from. I opened the closet, but it contained only my two bags, neatly stowed by a helpful Bellman. I moved forward into my large and very well appointed room, where the curtains had been opened to reveal a breathtaking sunset colored view of that mountain backdrop dominating the horizon.

  In a nook area to the right of the huge picture window was a small garment stand, like a miniature version of a coat rack. And hanging there all alone was a silky black tea length gown resting on its own matching silky black hanger. It had a cropped three quarter length sleeve jacket made of black but very sheer crimped material that was piped at the hem and sleeves with the same black silk as the gown. The tag on the inside said ‘Gucci’.

  I didn’t know much about designers, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t Canadian. On the floor next to the rack were black high-heeled shoes, in my size, which upon closer inspection I found were covered in black silk that matched the dress, also labeled Gucci.

  On the dresser was a thin, medium sized, rectangular box. I lifted the edge and moved back the cream-colored tissue paper to view the contents. Inside, on one side of the box, folded neatly, was a pair of department store pantyhose—not the kind from an egg—and on the other side, displayed to their best advantage, were a black bra with matching lace panties. I was so embarrassed I turned around, as if I had accidentally flipped to an R-rated movie scene I shouldn’t be watching.

  I’d had enough and didn’t look back as I escaped to take refuge in the bathroom, locking the door behind me for good measure. Then I turned the hot water in the tub on full tilt and let it fill to far beyond the level my mother would ever allow.

  On the spacious marble counter was a huge gift basket full of bath bombs, sugar scrubs and herbal shampoos and treatments from a place called Lush. This gift would have been like a dream come true if I hadn’t felt horribly embarrassed by it, too.