Work of Art ~ the Collection

by Ruth Clampett

  “And you have a problem with that?” he teases.

  “I guess not, since I have such a great ass.”

  “You won’t get any complaints from me. Your ass is a thing of beauty.”

  I wiggle my rear on the way up for his benefit.

  “Get it, girl!” he calls, laughing.

  At the top of the ladder, I crawl into the room that was formed out of the mountain. Max follows.

  “People really lived in here?” I ask, marveling at it. It feels like someone took a sharp spoon and carved out the center of a stone. You’re completely surrounded by nothing but shale rock and the air and light that passes through the ragged openings. It’s so organic I feel like I’m part of the earth as I sit on the cold stone floor.

  “Yeah, they were safe from predators up here.” He rubs his hands over places people have carved their names and declarations of love on the walls.

  I skim my fingers across the stone floor and pick up a loose piece of shale. I hold it up to examine it. “My mom would’ve loved this place. We used to collect rocks together when I was little.”

  Max looks over, his eyes wide with surprise. “You never mention your mom . . . well, except the times I’ve run my fingers through your hair.”

  “I try not to think of her.”

  “Can I ask you about her?”

  It’s probably time to share this piece of my life with Max. “Yeah.”

  “So you really don’t know if she’s alive or not? What happened?”

  I let out a long sigh. “It all started after my dad died; my mom fell apart. They adored each other and relied on each other for everything, and she just didn’t know how to go on without him. For months, I had to do all the cleaning, cooking, and shopping just to keep our house and our lives together. Luckily, he had life insurance, so there was money to pay the bills, but she wouldn’t get out of bed. After about six months, a friend of hers insisted Mom get out of the house. They would hang at this country-western club. That’s where she met Russ.

  “Russ was as different from my dad as he could be. He was very charming and outgoing, but also wild and irresponsible. In a matter of months, my mom was involved with him. At first she was really happy, but then things started to change. It wasn’t until later that I realized that he got her into drugs, and soon they were partying all the time and burning through the insurance money. By then, I was in my senior year of high school, taking three AP classes and working a part-time job.

  “I was so busy that I didn’t realize how bad things were getting. I guess when the money was gone, they got into some major trouble, and then her car was set on fire in the middle of the night. After that, we started getting weird phone calls. One day, I came home from school and she was gone.”

  Max pulls back and frowns. “Gone?”

  “Yes, she had taken some clothes, but that was about it. She just vanished. About three weeks later, I got a letter that had been mailed from Mexico. In the letter she said she was sorry and that she loved me with all her heart, but right now it was too dangerous for me to be around her. If something happened to me, she wouldn’t be able to go on. And that was it. She didn’t explain how I was supposed to go on, how I was going to keep living in the house or anything. I mean hell, I was almost eighteen, but I didn’t have a clue how to survive on my own.

  “I was a basket case and too afraid to tell anyone, so I pretended that nothing had changed until the bank finally put a notice of eviction on the front door.

  “One of Mom’s girlfriends told me she’d heard Mom was in L.A. So, I packed up the car with what I could fit and left some other things with a friend. The day I got in my car and drove away from my house, the only home I’d ever known, and knowing what I’d lost was well . . . you can imagine . . .”

  Max’s jaw twitches as his fingers curl into tight fists, and I take some silent satisfaction in his anger, because what she did was unforgivable.

  “Showing up in L.A. with no money and not knowing anyone was the most terrifying thing I’d ever done. I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to find her here. The few leads I had amounted to nothing, and as each day passed, I lost hope that I would see her again. During all of this, I got a job at a coffeehouse, but it was so expensive here that I had to live out of my car for a while. It was so humiliating. But it was at that job that I met Brian. He was a regular customer and so sweet. About that time, they needed extra help around the gallery, and he convinced Adam to hire me. If it hadn’t been for that family, I don’t know where I’d be now.”

  Max’s mouth hangs open. There’s a profound look of sadness in his dark eyes. “So, that’s why they’re so protective of you.”

  “Yes. They all met me at my lowest point, and sometimes I think they don’t fully realize how strong I am now and how much their help strengthened me.”

  Max rubs his hands roughly over his face. “Damn, Ava. I had no idea. I can’t believe what you’ve gone through.”

  I let the shale fall from my grasp, and I brush my hand over my jeans. “I wish like hell I hadn’t gone through it, and I fear I’ll never know what happened to her.”

  “Maybe not. But look at what you’ve overcome and accomplished: college, a career . . . you’ve made a good life for yourself.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve made some bad choices,” I say, as Jonathan intrudes into my thoughts.

  Max gives me a stern look. “Stop that. I think you’re amazing and I’m proud of you.”

  I give him a small smile as we spend a moment taking in the view from the elevated point before heading back down the ladder.

  After hiking a while more, Max asks if I’m hungry. When I nod, he pulls out an insulated bag with a lunch that he had the hotel pack. We find a picnic area nearby, and I lay out the cloth napkins before we spread our feast on the worn table. I wonder what his day would’ve been like if he had come alone as originally planned. Of course, he would’ve taken a much longer hike, but I flatter myself by imagining he’s having a much better time with me here.

  I glance at him. “Are you glad I came? I mean, you don’t regret me slowing you down?”

  He flashes his gorgeous smile. “Are you kidding? I’m so glad you’re here.”

  We slowly eat, savoring the quiet easiness of the afternoon. After we’ve cleaned up, he takes out his sketchbook and my journal from his backpack, and we wander further down the trail until we find a spot that’s inspiring. There’s a patch of wild grass, and I sink down into the cool softness before I open my journal and let my thoughts tumble onto the blank pages. I write without rereading or editing, just allowing my emotions to take me wherever my muse wants to go.

  Max looks equally inspired as he studies a small grove of trees lit dramatically by a shaft of light cutting through the nearby chasm in the rocks. He works with a loose quick hand and doesn’t speak while he draws. The quiet tenor between us could be awkward, but it’s strangely comforting instead. We’ve passed the litmus test of true friendship, and I smile about how far we’ve come.

  When it’s finally time to move on, Max wants to see one more cliff dwelling before we leave. We continue down the path until we find the last one on the map. This ancient home is higher up the cliff, so we brave the tall ladder and are rewarded with a spectacular view of the entire valley.

  We scoot on our butts to the rear wall, lean back with our feet stretched in front of us and we take it all in.

  “Ahh,” I sigh before taking a deep breath. “This is just what I needed today.” I stretch my arms out. “Even though I haven’t been able to get my mind off the mess with Jonathan . . . something about this place gives me hope that things can be better.”

  Max watches me run my fingers through my hair and says, “I hope so. Because if you let what happened with Jonathan keep you from being happy, from being able to trust yourself and others, then he’s damaged you twice, and you can’t give him that, Ava. You just can’t.”

  “You’re right.” I drop my head and dig my fingers into
my thighs. “And what about you? Do you feel like therapy is helping? That maybe one day you’ll be able to enjoy what you’ve achieved and be content?”

  “I’m working on it. It’s taken me a long time to deal with my crap.” He pauses, and as he looks out over the vista, he shakes his head and lets out a long sigh.

  “So much goes back to a messed up relationship in my past. It put me on a path of self-destruction, but I refuse to let it define me anymore.”

  “Are you talking about Chloe?”

  His head snaps back as he glances at me with wide eyes. “Yes, how’d you know about her?”

  “Jess told me about your relationship with her during college and how she suddenly left.” I expect to see certain amount of pain from my comment, but he handles it without even flinching.

  “Yeah, I don’t know if I can fully explain what I was like when I was with her . . . who I became. I was so obsessed, I lost all sense of myself, and it was like part of me died when she left.”

  “Oh, Max,” I say softly.

  He shakes his head. “When I finally picked myself up, I was determined to prove to her and the world that she walked away from someone so cool, so successful, that she would eventually come to her senses and come back to me. And once I’d achieved all the success and notoriety, not only did she not come back, but none of it meant anything.”

  “And so all the women, the art groupies, were part of that?”

  “Yeah, I had no interest in getting close to anyone again. I was so freaked out, knowing that if I found someone I actually cared for, I’d become crazy obsessed again. I doubted I could survive round two in that dark place. And so, I surrounded myself with the kind of women I couldn’t get close to.”

  “And then . . . ?”

  “And then I met you,” he states simply.

  I look at him. He’s gazing at the vista with his strong arms folded across his chest. He sighs and leans forward, stretching his arms before resting his hands on his thighs.

  “You know, the worst part is that you met me at my lowest point. You’ve seen me in ugly circumstances doing incredibly stupid things. So, now I know you may never trust me around other women . . . or trust that I mean what I say.” He looks down and takes a deep breath before looking back up at me.

  I don’t speak for a long moment. “I want to trust you, Max, but I don’t even trust myself. I’m scared.” Overwhelmed, I take a deep breath and watch a bird that’s landed at the top of the ladder before returning his gaze.

  “Hell, I’m scared too. For the longest time, I tried to stay away from you. I was so unglued because the feeling of being drawn to you was so intense, and I knew I could ruin both of us. I couldn’t do that. I care too much about you, Ava.”

  I take a sharp breath. I wasn’t prepared for our day hiking to lead to such serious conversations. “I don’t want to cause you any pain, Max.”

  “I know you don’t. And with everything we’ve gone through, and now that I’m back in therapy, I realize that it can be different with you . . . that I don’t have to repeat those old patterns. But just when I find my strength and confidence in us, you go through this thing with Jonathan, and now you’re down on yourself. I know it feels like things are messed up, Ava, but that doesn’t mean happiness isn’t still worth fighting for . . . because it is.”

  He takes my hand, and my heart skips from the sudden connection, the warmth that envelopes me in his tender grasp.

  “I’m going to wait for you, Ava, as long as it takes. I don’t want anyone else. I want you, and I’m going to prove it every day until you finally believe me and you want me too.”

  I search his eyes, which are blazing with every ounce of life and want that a man can contain. I’m scared . . . not just scared, terrified. Max means everything to me. I’m way past the initial infatuation. This is the tower of a hard-won friendship built one layer at a time that holds me up and gives me hope. I can’t lose him. I can’t destroy what we’ve already fought for.

  I search for the right words that will brace us until my wobbly legs find their strength to stand on their own and face him. But the sound of other hikers climbing the ladder to our little oasis bursts our bubble. When our hands pull apart, I feel as if I’ve lost a prize I’d only just won. We stand and prepare to descend the ladder as soon as it’s clear.

  On the drive back to Santa Fe, we’re both quiet, and he turns on the radio to fill the emptiness. I relive our times together in my mind: every moment from meeting at the art show in New York to him opening his heart in Bandelier. And when I look back on it all, I note how much we’ve both changed, both together and individually. When we pull into the parking lot and he shuts off the engine, I take his hand and face him.

  “Max, I really want to get over everything that’s happened, and I want to be good . . . and I’m going to get there. But until I do, I don’t want to lose you.”

  He looks sad, yet hopeful. “You aren’t going to lose me, angel. Like I told you, I’m going to wait for you, okay?”

  “Okay.” I smile and we step outside.

  “Why don’t you rest for a bit? Dylan wants to meet for dinner here at seven, and I think Jess and Brian are joining us too.”

  I give him a hug before I go inside.

  I’m distracted at dinner, fidgeting and staring out the big picture window. Everyone else is animated and chatty about the day, but all I want to do is hide in my room. I need to snap out of it, but I’m overwhelmed with emotions teetering between heartfelt desire ignited from Max’s confession and paralyzing fear that I’m going to ruin everything.

  After the bill’s paid, we amble to the lobby, and I use the restroom before trekking over to my bungalow. I say goodnight to everyone and promise to meet up for breakfast in the morning.

  My reflection in the bathroom mirror startles me. The battle wounds over the last few weeks seem to have etched themselves across my features. I splash cold water repeatedly across my face, hoping to wash it all away.

  When I’m done patting my skin dry, I come out and smile to find that Max has waited. As I walk to him, I hear my name called from the opposite direction.

  “Ava!”

  Hell no. I don’t even turn around, but I can hear him move quickly toward me.

  “Ava, please wait.” There’s an unsettling nervous edge to his tone.

  Shock turns to fury on Max’s face.

  No, fuck no. I’m instantly angry. The flames turn my eyes hot red. I came to Santa Fe to get away from even the thought of Jonathan, and he stands before me, acting as if he owns a piece of me. My rage is so big I want to emotionally set him on fire and watch him burn. My voice is dangerously dark and heavy.

  “Jonathan . . . what the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter Twelve / The Masterpiece

  I am seeking. I am striving. I am in it with all my heart.

  ~ Vincent van Gogh

  “Ava!” he calls out. His expression looks frantic.

  I’m startled at the sight of him. He looks like hell, as if he hasn’t slept for days.

  “I want to know what you’re doing here, Jonathan? How’d you find me?”

  “I need to talk to you, but you won’t take my calls. I had to find you. I’m not leaving until you give me a chance to make you understand.”

  Hell, why is he doing this? “I don’t have anything to say to you. You need to leave me alone.”

  Max marches toward us. This won’t be good.

  “Ava, please, give me ten minutes to explain everything, and if you still don’t want to talk after that, I promise I won’t contact you anymore.”

  Max steps right in front of me, as if Jonathan’s presence is a flimsy stand-in for someone significant. His testosterone-edged gesture draws a line in the sand. Only inches away, he faces me and says, “Come on, Ava. Let’s go.” With his clenched fists and steely expression, he looks so tightly wound I’m amazed he hasn’t taken Jonathan down already.

  “Ten minutes, Ava, just ten minutes,
” Jonathan chants from behind Max. I’m impressed with his bravery in the face of a dangerously angry Max. Desperate want can cause the most sighted man to be blind.

  Max glares over his shoulder and, in a venom-tinged voice, growls, “Since we’re in a nice hotel, I’d prefer not to beat the crap out of you, old man, but I will if I have to.”

  “Ava, please.” He leans sideways to look at me. His begging weakens my resolve. Maybe one last conversation with Jonathan is the only way to finally put this all behind me. I rein in my fury.

  Surely there can be no winners here. But I’ve had a part in creating this problem. Now I need to step up and take care of it.

  I raise my chin, rest my hands on Max’s forearms and say, “I need to do this, Max. It’s the only way to move forward. Please understand, okay?”

  His mouth drops open and his eyes narrow. He looks devastated, and I almost lose my resolve. “I don’t want you to be alone with him, Ava.” Fear flashes in his eyes.

  “I’ll talk to him right here in the lodge. It’ll be okay.”

  His stare is long and hard. He fishes in his pocket, pulls out one of the keycards to his room and hands it to me before stepping aside.

  “If you need me, you know where I’ll be.” His eyes have a haunted look.

  I hate myself for what this is doing to him.

  He turns to Jonathan. “If you cross the line, I swear I’ll come for you, Alistair.” He gives me one last look before he walks away, and I feel as if my heart’s leaving with him.

  Jonathan firmly takes my elbow and leads me to a table in the corner of the bar. I sink into the chair, fold my arms over my chest, and wait.

  “So are you with Max now? Ava, surely you know better, considering his reputation.” He licks his dry lips nervously, and his eyes dart sideways.

  My stare becomes steely. “That’s rich. You, of all people, warning me about Max. If that’s how you want to spend your ten minutes . . . be my guest.”

  His eyes widen, and he takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. “Ava, I’m sorry I deceived you. I’d give anything to go back and redo what’s happened, but I can’t. All I can ask is that you to try to understand the hell I’ve been living . . . and how it led to so many bad decisions . . . so many things I regret.” He hangs his head and clenches and unclenches his hands.