by Clay, Verna
"What do you think?" she asked, holding her hands behind her back like a child hoping for acceptance.
He moved his gaze around the room again and then said, "It's fabulous! Maybe you should add interior design to your list of accomplishments." He was surprised and delighted to see her blush and the smile she gave him held its own sunshine.
"Thank you, Jason. I was afraid I went a little overboard with yellow, but–"
He interrupted. "Yellow is your color, Sunny." Her blush deepened when he emphasized her name.
"I'll just grab my sweater and be right back." She rushed down the hallway. A minute later she returned and said, "Where are we going? Back to the cabin?"
He heard the wistfulness in her voice. "No. But it's almost as good as the cabin."
She made an "O" with her mouth and then asked, "Can I offer you a cup of coffee before we go?" She hesitated and added, "I could even cook breakfast. I love to cook."
Although Jason kept his face neutral, he was absolutely dumbfounded by Sunny. She was nothing like the unyielding woman he had first met. Against his better judgment, he said, "How about you make breakfast when we get back?"
"I'd love to," she said breathlessly.
She started toward his car after they left the house, but he said, "No, this way. We'll walk."
Unquestioningly, she followed as he led her toward a trail that traversed both their properties. For awhile they headed in the direction of the cabin, but then he veered onto another path that took them away from the cabin. When the trail started up a slope, he said, "The climb is a little steep, but it's worth it."
She didn't complain. Almost an hour later they reached the summit of a bluff and Jason walked to the edge. He turned to Sunny standing beside him and asked, "Do you recognize this place?"
For a second her expression was blank and then she turned incredulous eyes on his. "It's from the picture you sent."
Quietly, he said. "I remembered the scenery on the tintype and wondered if I could locate the place of the photo. It took a couple of days."
Sunny waved a hand toward the expanse in front of her that included a summit drop of hundreds of feet into a valley of ponderosa pines, firs, alligator junipers, and high desert shrub, until it met another outcropping of cliffs probably less than a mile away.
Jason pointed. "I think the picture would have been taken over there."
Sunny walked the few paces to where he indicated and turned in a slow circle. "Yes! This is the spot! And behind those boulders is where they had their picnic before the bear almost attacked them."
Jason was confused. "Is the incident in a journal?"
"Yes. In the first one you sent me."
"A bear almost attacked them?" he said with surprise.
Sunny skipped toward the boulders and called over her shoulder. "It did! But Tana knew the bear and reasoned with him. She told him that the old ways were changing and although it made her sad, too, there was nothing they could do to stop progress."
Jason followed Sunny behind the boulders to a flat, open space. "You're kidding? Right?"
She turned and said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Nope. Not kidding. After reading those journals, I believe in magic. Tana Raven Sees, who later married Dr. Thomas Matthews, could communicate with animals and heal impossible diseases. She was known as the Healing Woman of the Red Rocks and countless people endured an arduous journey to find her. That's how Dr. Matthews ended up here. His daughter was dying of an unknown disease and the Healing Woman saved her life."
Jason was having a difficult time believing her. He suggested, "Maybe those journal entries were real events embellished on."
"No. The accounts happened as described," she responded with conviction.
Over the next hour as they enjoyed the view, Jason's skepticism increased as she related incidents. She was so sure of the truth of the stories that he wished he could lay aside his disbelief.
Finally, she said, "You must be starving. Let's go back." On the return trip she continued relating unbelievable tales from the journals.
When they eventually sat down to breakfast Jason decided the best way to describe her cooking was "down home southern style." Her country girl persona was not an act. Rather than use a microwave, she fried their bacon and used real eggs to prepare omelettes stuffed with cheese, mushrooms, olives, bell peppers, crumbled bacon, and topped with cilantro. She sliced potatoes and made home fries. And, as if that wasn't enough, she toasted bread she said she'd baked the previous day. Jason laughed, "Do you always cook like this?"
"Gracious no. If I did I'd weigh three hundred pounds. But when I have someone to cook for, I go all out."
Jason chewed a bite of omelette and closed his eyes, savoring the mixture of flavors and textures. When he swallowed, he smiled. The sudden realization that this was his first genuine smile in months, gave him pause. When he opened his eyes he saw Sunny studying him. He said, "What? Do I have egg on my chin?"
"No. But you actually smiled a real smile, and then it disappeared. Am I on your blacklist again?"
Her remark brought his smile back. Leaning forward he placed his elbows on either side of his plate, perched his chin in his palms, and ignored her blacklist question. Instead, he asked something that had been on his mind. "Sunny, why didn't you purchase my property when it was on the market? You could have easily outbid me."
She chewed her bite of toast and swallowed. "I never knew about the property until recently. My mother always told me stories about the Healing Woman, but after she died, I blocked out thoughts of family and concentrated on one thing—getting out of the situation I was in. I hated being a foster kid. Some of my caretakers were nice enough, but none of them were like family to me. My one goal after I was released from state care was to find a career that allowed me to support myself so I'd never have to rely on charity again."
Jason interjected, "And singing was the answer?"
"Yes. At first I didn't even consider it. I knew I could sing, but making a career of it seemed like a fairytale. But I guess you could say that fate intervened. In high school I became friends with this geeky guy named Ted Stewart. We were both outcasts, so to speak. He was nerdy; I was nerdy, so we immediately hit it off. There was never anything boyfriend/girlfriend about our relationship. We just liked each other as friends. The first time I visited his house I saw a guitar leaning against the couch. I asked who played it and he said he did. I had to cajole and whine to get him to play something, but when he did, it was astounding. There was also a piano in the room and I asked if he played it, too. He said yes and I begged until he played for me. And again I was astounded. This guy was a genius. After several weeks he didn't feel so embarrassed and played often for me. I remembered the melodies and secretly wrote lyrics. One day I got the courage to sing the lyrics to his music and he was blown away. After that we collaborated and wrote several songs. On a whim, just after graduating from high school, we recorded one of our songs on a cheap recorder and sent it to a recording company in Nashville. After six months and no word, we figured the cassette had hit the trash pile. But a month later this talent scout, who was also a producer, called and said he wanted to meet with us. He came all the way to Tucson and listened to us play live. The bigwig said he wanted to produce our song as a single and we signed over our rights, thinking we would be the ones doing the performing. We were very naive. The song did hit the top 100, but not by us. The producer gave it to one of his up-and-coming stars, who later fell into drug addiction and overdosed. Ted and I received very little money, even though the song sold well, and when we told people we were the songwriters, no one believed us because, hey, we were just teenagers. The jerk who stole our music gave the credit to his golden boy because he rearranged and added a few words."
Jason could see that Sunny was struggling to tell her story and he placed his palm over her clenched fist. "You don't have to talk about this."
She smiled wryly, "Actually, it feels good to vent. And I promise the story ge
ts better. Ted and I both got jobs at a diner and shared a cheap flat where we could practice our music. We also reinvented ourselves. We studied country artists in popular magazines and tried to recreate 'the look'." She made quote marks with her fingers to emphasize her words. "We even decided I needed a stage name. We liked my given name, Sunny, but chose Sundance for my last name because we both loved the movie, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and the soundtrack written by Burt Bacharach. We also advertised for a drummer and bass player and auditioned a couple of kids about our age who were really talented. For a couple of years our band worked hard to perfect our music and stage presence. And…" she grinned, "we ate lots of pizza." She paused and lifted her coffee cup to sip before continuing. "Because we were under the drinking age, our first gigs were mostly weddings and birthday parties, which were good because it helped us overcome stage fright and hone our craft. But as soon as we turned twenty-one–" she grinned slyly, "well, everyone but Sam the drummer was twenty-one, so he got a fake I.D.—we started auditioning for bars and nightclubs. We played a lot of dives before we hit the club circuit and got noticed by a talent scout in Vegas who wanted to become our manager. Of course, we were skeptical and had all our contracts checked and double-checked by attorneys, but Billy Bartlett was the real deal." She sighed and smiled. "And he's still our manager."
Jason said softly, "That's a wonderful story. What happened to the guy who stole your song?"
"He got sued for pulling the same stunt on another artist, but that artist had parents with money and they took him to the cleaners. No one would work with him after that. Years later I heard someone say he was slinging hash at some honky-tonk."
Jason asked another question. "And what happened to your band members? Are you all still together?"
She smiled sadly. "Ted died in a car accident five years after we signed with Billy and losing him just about killed me. But Sam and Charlie got me through. After that…" her voice trailed.
Jason prompted, "After that…"
"We continued to have huge successes recording songs that Ted and I had been working on before he died. After that, I wrote alone." She blinked and reached for the coffee carafe, refilling Jason's mug and hers too. With her eyes downcast she said, "Life went on and I got married." She lifted her gaze to his. "But to answer your question, yes, Sam, Charlie, and I are still together, as well as later members of the band." She hesitated and finished with, "Then a year ago my world turned upside down when my husband cheated on me and asked for a divorce."
Releasing a breath, Jason wished he hadn't pushed her to continue. She stared at him before smiling and saying, "Enough of this maudlin conversation. Come with me. It's my turn to show you something."
11: Journal Entry
Sunny couldn't believe she'd just blurted a condensed version of her life to a man she barely knew, and who probably disliked her immensely. Or did he? Why had he taken her to the overlook where the tintype had been photographed? Why had he searched for additional journals and personally brought them to her? Because as much as he wants to come off as a hard ass, he's really a nice guy.
She led Jason to the combined office and library and pulled out a drawer in the ultra modern desk. She hated the shiny gray lacquered finish, much preferring the warmth and coziness of wood, but the desk had been part of the furnishings negotiated in the purchase of the home. It was serviceable until she decided what to do about her current situation. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves she gently lifted the precious journals onto the desktop.
Jason stood on the opposite side of the desk. After she removed the final journal, he asked, "Have you read all of them?"
"No, only parts of some. They didn't weather as well as the first one so I've decided to wait until they're preserved. In fact, a curator from one of Sedona's museums is dropping by today to give me an estimate of the cost."
She moved her hand over the top of the journals until she spotted the one she wanted. Very gently, she opened the leather cover to reveal a date and signature.
1883
JOURNAL OF DR. THOMAS MATTHEWS
She turned the page and glanced up at Jason. "This entry is dated May 11th and it's the essence of true family." She glanced back at the page and read aloud.
Today my life forever changed. My former existence has become but a memory with some remembrances cherished, while others disintegrate like the leaves of yesteryear.
Today I became one with the red rocks, one with Tana's ancestors, one with the animals that depend on us, but most of all, one with my beautiful wife.
Early this morning she gave me another daughter. The birthing was difficult but my brave wife never complained or railed against God. When her heart stopped beating, I feared she was lost to me forever. Then something miraculous happened—I heard a voice in the room say, "Thomas, she will return to you." When I lurched around to see who had spoken, no one was there, and I whispered, "Frannie? Is that you?"
After a moment the same voice said, "Trust me," but I saw no one. The words had barely been spoken before Tana gasped and started breathing again. I had already reached for a scalpel to make an incision to save our child and I went weak with relief. But then I had to decide whether to continue with the surgery. Both my unborn child's life and Tana's depended on my decision. I was reaching for the laudanum to sedate Tana when she suddenly screamed and pushed.
Our child entered the world bellowing.
Much later, as I lay beside my beloved wife and our daughter, I remembered Frannie's words, and that is the moment my life changed forever. I now believe the unbelievable and I know beyond a doubt that Tana communicates with her ancestors. They are with us. They will always be with us.
Sunny stopped reading and gently closed the journal. Brushing a tear from her eye, she whispered, "I wonder if they're with me?"
Jason stood riveted beside the desk glancing from the closed journal to Sunny and back several times. The writing was hauntingly beautiful and filled with so much love he wanted to cry himself. Did love like that actually exist? Not in my world.
Sunny puffed a breath. "I see the words affected you, too."
He blinked and studied her face. "Is that as far as you've read?" he asked.
"Yes. When I started to turn the page it tore a little. That's when I decided to call the curator." She lovingly waved her hand over the journals. "I'll pay whatever the cost to restore them."
Jason almost reached to touch Sunny's cheek, but the doorbell rang and saved him that embarrassment in the nick of time. The sentimental moment was lost and he literally shook his head to clear his thoughts. If there was one thing he wanted to avoid, it was getting involved with Sunny Sundance.
12: Search and Rescue Party
For the next three weeks Jason avoided Sunny. He didn't like the fact that being around her made his heart race. He didn't like that he wanted to hold her and cover her mouth with hot kisses. He didn't like the dreams he was having about her.
A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. The knock came again, insistent. Sunny, he thought. Groaning, he set his mug on the countertop and turned away from staring out the kitchen window, mentally bracing himself for the affect she would have on him. The knock sounded again as he headed for the front door. He said dryly after he opened it, "Somehow I knew that pounding was coming from you." She merely grinned and his heart tripped. Damn!
"Long time no see, Jason."
"Yeah, well I was hoping you'd returned to Nashville."
She squinted up at him. "No you weren't."
Hiding his surprise at her perception, he asked, "And why not?"
"Because you're as curious about my distant relatives as I am."
He laughed. "Sunny, no wonder you're such a good song writer, you have an overactive imagination."
"Are you going to invite me in?"
He stepped aside and motioned her inside. Glancing at the briefcase she was carrying, he quipped, "Don't tell me, you're here to offer me cash for my property."
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br /> "Would you sell if I did?"
"No."
She smiled, crossed his tiled entry that was barely big enough to be called an entry, and continued into the living room. Setting her briefcase on his coffee table she immediately unlatched it. When she opened it he said, "Are those the originals?"
"Of course not, silly. I paid an ungodly amount of money to have them reproduced, but it was well worth the price. The originals are safely preserved and stored with my attorney." She sat on the couch and patted the spot beside her. "Have a seat, neighbor."
Jason ground his jaw and joined her because refusing would make him look like a petulant schoolboy. He waited while she shuffled through the journals until she found the one she wanted. Lifting it, she turned and grinned and he almost covered her mouth with one of those kisses he'd been dreaming about.
She was silent while she flipped through the pages until she found what she wanted. For a moment she just stared at it. Then she inhaled and said, "I've read every page of these journals more than once, and they are," she exhaled, "a recounting so fantastic it borders on fantasy." She hesitated before saying in a rush, "But I believe every amazing word."
Jason didn't know how to respond, so he waited. She turned her unusual eyes on his—today they were more lavender than blue—and he felt the air rush from his chest.
She gnawed her bottom lip and then whispered in a rush, "You've got to take me back to the cabin."
He waited for her to explain, but when she didn't, he prompted, "Because?"