'Okay, I'll think about it,' I concede.
‘That's my group.' Elliot nervously points out a small gathering of hikers.
'Go David Attenborough!' I cheer as Elliot takes his position.
'From the chaparral-covered foothills to the high Sierra crest there are 4-600 black bears roaming Yosemite,' Elliot gets off to a poetic start. 'We often get asked whether you can outrun a bear. Well, the fastest human can run 23 m.p.h. A bear can run between 25 and 30 m.p.h. You might think you're in with a chance but let me tell you this – a bear can keep up that pace for ten hours!'
We all 'oooo', impressed.
'Now, you'll hear me talking about black bears but did you know that only five per cent of them are actually black? The majority are in fact brown or even cinnamon and vanilla.'
He's doing great! I give him a discreet thumbs-up.
He responds by offering another fact, seemingly for my benefit. 'You've probably all been warned about bear break-ins. This is a serious problem – the bears are smart. These days if they see a bear trap they've learned they don't slam hard so they leave a foot outside and back out once they've nabbed the food. And when it comes to sniffing round cars, they do it at night while we're asleep.'
A six-year-old in a pink anorak sticks up her hand. 'If they're so clever why don't they break into the grocery store at night?'
His first heckler. Elliot opens his mouth then closes it, saved from having to come up with a response as all eyes are drawn to a frazzle-haired woman strolling by with a cat on a leash.
'So!' he says, regaining our attention. 'Now we're going to play a little game and see if we can learn a bit about the noises a bear makes.'
He hands out a series of cards each with a different instruction on it. 'Clicking teeth' goes first.
'Very good,' he praises the little boy giving his milk teeth a hearty gnashing. ‘That's a signal a mother gives her cub to climb a tree.' He points to the next child, who obviously got 'Grunt.' That means 'Come here now!'
An elderly gentleman hums.
‘This is what bears do when they are content!' he tells us.
'We need a couple for this final one …' Elliot looks around. No volunteers. 'Lara – may I?'
Whatever it is, he may. I step forward and allow him to nuzzle at my face.
'Any idea?'
'Kissing!' squeals the pink anorak in delight.
'Correct!' Elliot cheers.
I remain in a state of bliss until, for his grand finale, Elliot pulls what used to be a black bear out of his rucksack. It's skinned. Dead. Rolled-to-fit. Horrible. As he unravels it and passes it around the group one man shoves his hand up its head like a puppet.
'Where are its eyes?' pink anorak asks, on the verge of tears.
The bear is passed from one reluctant pair of hands to the next. When my turn comes I shrink back from its bristly touch.
‘Whose idea was this?' I hiss at Elliot.
'Apparently it's standard – I think it's supposed to be educational,' he shrugs.
That's as may be, but it's not an image you want lingering. As Elliot concludes his talk I notice his group has gone from twenty fascinated faces to forty revulsed palms desperate for a bit of soap and water.
Not the greatest note to end on.
'If you drop the bearskin bit I reckon your show could run and run!' I offer my critique as we head back to base to hitch a ride on the Valley Floor trolley.
As we step on board Elliot sneaks a packet of huckleberry jellybeans into my hand. 'I know how you hate cheesecake.'
My eyes well up and I clutch the jellybeans to my heart as if he'd kissed each one and then resealed the packet. Could it be that the old Elliot, the authentic Elliot, is making a comeback?
'All aboard!'
Our driver is Sam, a man of Big Foot-like height with a Bill Murray drollness of delivery. Gawping up at El Capitan we ask if he's a climber.
He shakes his head, 'I don't like heights. I don't even like being this tall.’
Apparently the average scaling of El Cap takes three to four days. Those who attempt it kip in sleeping bags pinned to the rockface and poop in containers they then have to carry with them to the top.
'Why would you?' Elliot shakes his head. 'Why, why, why?'
On to stunning Bridal Veil waterfall. That's the most common name for a waterfall, don't you know? Sam tells us how pure the tap water is in Yosemite and ridicules the fools (that'll be us) who pay for imported mineral water while in the park.
'Do you know Evian is naive spelt backwards?' he notes before dazzling us with infinite geological facts.
'He's nearly as good as you,' I nudge Elliot.
I love this. I feel like we're on a date. Not one either of us would have chosen in our wildest dreams but a date nevertheless.
'Ew! Squished rabbit!' I point to a splattered furball on the road.
'Roadkill café, open 24 hours …' Sam deadpans.
Which reminds us – lunch!
After a platter of nachos with melted cheese and salsa we mooch around the Ansel Adams art gallery and then watch the 23-minute documentary on Yosemite – the closest we could get to going to the movies.
'I miss civilization,' Elliot sighs.
Funny, he hasn't said he misses Elise.
We conclude our out-of-character behavior with a two-hour horse ride. It seemed a 'silly' thing to do as Elliot has always actively avoided horses and has never even sat astride a seaside donkey but amazingly he relishes every clod-hopping, nostril-flaring second. Me, I like horses and I like the idea of cowgirling it through the countryside but in reality I find it staggeringly uncomfortable and always end up feeling bad for the blatantly bored horse. However, the sight of Elliot in his crash helmet makes the whole trip worthwhile.
'You look like you're about to be shot out of a cannon,' I tell him, then collapse with giggles yet again, inadvertently letting the reins go all slack.
'At least I can control my steed!' Elliot taunts as my Amber chomps down a tree.
I wrestle her head back to an upright position then throw Elliot a curve ball.
‘You know last night you said meeting Joel might be what The California Club had in mind for me?'
'Well, I don't know, I was just saying …' he panics, seemingly regretting his prediction.
'I was just going to ask what you think it had in mind for you?'
Elliot expels the longest sigh. His horse – Auburn – does the same.
'I've asked myself the same question. Over and over since I've been here. From what you've told me, I can see Sasha ending up with a new self-image, Zoë seeing the dark side of movie star glamour and Elise – well, as much as she's freaking I think it could be doing her some good. Maybe I was supposed to find inner peace.’ He pauses. ‘But with all this space and time to think, I'm just questioning everything…'
It occurs to me that that's exactly what he needs to be doing but I decide I should let that thought pop into his head of its own accord.
'When you say everything …?' I prompt.
'My job, the house we're about to buy, Elise's plans for the wedding, my future.'
Elise's plans for the wedding, not our plans for the wedding. Interesting.
'Have you come up with any answers?' I enquire, trying to maintain a neutral tone.
'Nothing conclusive,' he admits.
'Well, it's early days,' I shrug.
'Don't remind me!' Elliot groans, then snaps out of his fug. 'So. This Joel. Are you two …?'
'What?' I give Elliot my blankest look.
'Oh come on, you shared a room last night, you'd both had a fair bit to drink…'
'I don't know to what you are alluding!' I tease. I could never lie to Elliot so the next best thing is to leave the matter open to interpretation.
'You used to tell me everything,' Elliot complains.
'Is he the kind of man you'd see me with?' I turn the tables, wanting to move on yet keep Joel in the conversation.
El
liot pulls a face. ‘That's a tricky one.'
'Just out of curiosity, who would you see me with?' It's been ages since our last heart-to-heart.
Auburn clops on several paces before Elliot replies. 'I really don't know. Someone charming to wine and dine you and be all masterful and knowledgeable about life?’
‘That's not at all what I want,' I counter, ducking under a low branch.
'What then?'
'Someone sweet and funny who really gets me,' I blurt. 'Someone who doesn't show off or lie or get competitive or put me down,' I flash through my previous relationships. 'A best friend,' I gulp. 'Anyway, lists don't mean anything. I've met people who seemed perfect on paper and they didn't do anything for me, or I didn't do anything for them.'
'You've got to have that desire, haven't you?' Elliot acknowledges.
'But it's so much more than lust, isn't it? I think there are people your heart just feels drawn to. People who get to you in a way unlike anyone else.'
'It wasn't really like that with Elise,' Elliot reveals. 'There was something there, other than her being such a rock when my parents died, and so we decided to make a go of it. It felt really grown-up.' Elliot frowns. 'Grown-up love? Doesn't sound much fun, does it?'
No, but I know where he got the term from.
'How does it feel?' I ask.
'Safe. Different. More structured. Not really how I thought it would feel with the woman I was going to marry but there are always doubts, aren't there?'
'I suppose.'
'Don't you think?'
'Maybe it's healthier that way. When there are no doubts there's no reason to hold back and then your heart just bungees and goes spinning out of control.'
'Sounds fantastic. Am I missing something?'
I smile, enigmatically I hope.
'So what are your reservations with Joel?'
'I don't know. Maybe I should go for it.' I dare myself to go one step further. 'I mean, do you know anyone who can make me a better offer?'
Elliot looks as if he's wrestling with an alligator internally.
Keen to leave that thought marinating a little longer I nudge Amber into a trot and call, 'Race you to Camp Liberace!’
Chapter 25
Outside the snow is falling like never-ending confetti. Inside Elliot and I lie by the fire, barely distinguishable from the cushions that have molded to our bodies. His leg is slung over mine and occasionally his hand drops down from the back of the sofa to let his fingers absently entwine with my hair. Over and over I hear myself say, 'I'm so happy, I'm so happy!' and my heart shrugs off its pashmina to bask in the flame-danced light.
Knowing this is our last night together I go to speak but contentment gets the better of me. I don't want to hear my voice pretending to be carefree or seductive, I just want to revel in this perfect combination of physical comfort and emotional levitation.
Though it is now past midnight, the wedding party is still flurrying around us. Joel's dance card continues to be dominated by the over-seventies, who seem to see him as their last chance to grapple with some firm flesh. Elliot, on the other hand, attracted the under-sevens (now mercifully relegated to bed) on account of his 'funny accent' and funnier haircut. In order to satisfy the kiddies' need for constant conversation he toured them round the Ahwahneechee artifacts displayed on the walls – the bows and arrows and gold-panning pans and baby papooses, scrambling any historical knowledge they may have once had.
My big kick came when a little girl called Maddie told me I was like the 'pretty dark-haired lady' from The Mummy, so I plummed-up my accent and told her I'd just got back from the Pyramids that very day and the reason I was drinking so much wine was because it was actually a secret elixir keeping me alive.
'Are you married to Elliot?' she asked me as we queued up for the buffet.
In my tipsy state I replied that I wished I was but that Elliot was about to marry another lady.
'Why would he do that?' she wanted to know.
I said it was a very good question, especially since I suspected that Elise may have been a scarab beetle in a previous life. Then I remembered that children have a habit of repeating everything you say so I turned to take it all back. But Maddie was already at Elliot's side. I hurried over just in time to hear her ask, 'Why are you marrying another woman?'
Oh gawd.
Elliot looked as stunned as if the shrimp on his plate had asked the question. 'Pardon?' he asked.
'Do you love her?' Maddie demanded, ever more indignant.
'Of course!'
'River deep, mountain high?' Maddie's eyes narrowed as she referenced the Tina Turner song the bride and groom had chosen for their first dance.
'I guess.'
'I guess isn't good enough! I guess is only as deep as a puddle or as high as an anthill!' she trounced him.
I had the feeling she was going to grow up to be a lawyer.
'What was that all about?' Elliot asked, visibly shaken, as Maddie was removed to sit with her family.
'Oh you know, kids of that age get crushes so easily,' I covered. 'I'm sure she'll get over it in a year or two,'
We then meandered over to the edge of the dancefloor where the bride and groom were still smooching,
'Look how close they are …' Elliot noted.
'Dancing cheek to cheek all the way down,' I sighed.
Elliot gave me a quizzical look.
'It's something June Whitfield said in an old comedy sketch.'
‘There's no one quite like you, Lara.' Elliot shook his head.
Back at our hearthside haven Elliot stretches, arching his back and then slumps into a new position. I dare myself to relocate a little closer to him and lay a casual hand on his forearm. His incredibly toned, muscular forearm. Since when was the bit between the elbow and the wrist so erotic? Maybe it's all his precision drumstick control. All I know is that from my toes to my fingertips I'm screaming: This one! This is a match! Let's do it!
'Lara, listen!' Elliot grabs me. 'They're playing our song!'
When he says 'our song' it was never remotely lyric-specific to our situation, it was just one of those tunes that got under our skin – Would I Lie To You by Charles & Eddie.
At the time I had black hair down to my waist, which meant I was Eddie, leaving Charles for Elliot. We always argued over who got the 'Woo!' bits and 'Would I lie to you?' became our most overused phrase of that year.
Elliot laughs, seemingly untroubled for the first time today. As for me, I'm suspended in joy and yet fully aware of how far I have to fall. As much as I wish this was my life, it's not. This is a sidestep into a parallel universe showing me how things might have been if Elliot had loved me.
Suddenly the pang of longing that lives inside me swells and overwhelms me. This is all I want – this feeling with Elliot – and I want it to last and I want it to be mine, not a mirage. I can't bear how precarious this transcendental state is. I'm even dreading one of the charcoaled logs shifting for fear that the crumbling ash will prompt a shift in mood.
'Five minutes, Elliot?' Mr Gediman leans over the back of the sofa and gives Elliot a shake.
That'll do it.
I quickly blink back the tears that have lined up and sniff briskly as he tells us, 'All good things must come to an end.’
Elliot shifts forward and rubs his face. 'I'll be with you in a second!'
It's too soon. I don't want him to go. If you ask me, I'll come with you, I speak to him in my head. But you have to ask me …
He doesn't.
'Maybe I could come back with you,' I suggest.
'Are you insane? And leave all this?' He shakes his head.
'But I haven't had the full park experience!' reason.
Elliot pulls me into a hug and I feel my heart collapse.
'Come here!'
Normally I can hold it together because I'm prepared, but an hour of lying together 'as if’ has played tricks on me. I can't distance myself enough. Fortunately he continues to hold me,
talking into my hair: 'You know that you are more than welcome in my musty sleeping bag but I'd rather think of you here in a warm bed.' He pulls back to look at me and the usual fondness in his eyes takes on a new poignancy. I feel his hands leave my arms and move up to my face, tucking my hair behind my ears and then tracing the line of my cheekbone with the deftest touch. Then he looks at my mouth as if he's seeing it for the first time.
'You're so lovely,' he breathes.
One part of me swoons as the other screams: Don't! Don't take another step closer unless you mean it! I feel completely at his mercy. Can he tell?
'Lara,' he says simply as he leans forward and lays the sweetest kiss on my lips. I can feel it everywhere. It's more than I even hoped to feel.
'Elliot?' Mr Gediman interrupts. 'Oh sorry!'
'Okay! Let's go!' Elliot jumps to his feet, tousling my hair and pushing me back to friend status. 'I'll swing by tomorrow for breakfast.'
How can he leave? How can he do that and then leave? I can't speak. I feel stunned. Every part of me is crying out for him. And he's gone.
Calling upon one of the larger tapestry cushions to fill the gap that he's left I relive the kiss. I've fantasized about a sequel to the house-party kiss for so many years and now that it has happened I'm feeling something I wasn't expecting to feel. I can't quite define it. I set aside the lust and desire and dreaminess and realize that there are traces of anger. Indignation. Some part of me is actually annoyed – as far as he's concerned I'm getting it on with Joel so why now should he make a move? Is he simply trying to regain supremacy in my heart? Can his ego not take a rival – even though he's not offering me anything he still wants 100 per cent of my devotion. But of course he's not like that.
I try and squish my heart back into its feeling-proof container but it keeps pinging out again like a jack-in-the-box.
'I'm not done! You just got me all stirred up and now you want me to lie down and play sleeping lions? I can't do it!'
'You have to!' I tell it. There's nowhere for the love to go. He's walked away. ‘You have to get a grip. You have to hold it back. You have to pretend it didn't happen, just to stop yourself going insane.'
The California Club: LoveTravel Series - USA Page 22