Breaking the Rules

by Liz Durano

  “What’s the stuff on the walls that makes it glitter?”

  “It’s called mica, a type of mineral that we use as a finishing ingredient in the adobe,” Sawyer replies. “When the conquistadores first came here, they thought they’d discovered one of the fabled Seven Cities of Gold because the walls were glistening with mica.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll enjoy it here at the Willow,” Sawyer says as he guides me through the house, telling me about the features common in earthships but not in traditional homes on the grid.

  In the bedroom, I love the king-sized bed with its luxurious throw and plump pillows, as well as the spaciousness of the main bedroom. There’s a washer and dryer that runs completely from converted solar power, as well as a full kitchen setup with a stove and oven, refrigerator and microwave, and a big-screen TV. Basically, it has everything I would need, even Wi-Fi, and other than being located in the middle of nowhere, it looks just like a regular house. A tad quirky but beautiful.

  By the time Sawyer hands me the lease to review and sign, I’m fighting back tears. Maybe it’s all the pent-up emotions I’ve kept inside since Drew died. Or maybe it’s from the time before that, when I had to pretend that he was the same man I married—the fun-loving man everyone knew before he came back from that last deployment a changed man and not for the better, something he didn’t want his family to know. Or maybe it’s because I’m just so happy there are no more words.

  I don’t realize I’m crying until Sawyer pulls me to him and I feel the broadness of his chest against my face. I inhale the heady scent of the forest and morning dew on his skin. Sandwiched between us, Tyler kisses my forehead, probably thinking it’s a game.

  “It’s okay,” Sawyer murmurs as the tears come like a dam finally breaking.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be so emotional like this,” I mutter as I pull away. Can I be any more emotional? It’s just a house even though it’s not just a house. It’s my new home. “Maybe it’s all the sagebrush everywhere,” I say, sniffling though I’m also giggling. “It’s cleansing the hell out of me, that’s for sure.”

  A gray Jeep Wrangler pulls up next to my SUV and a lean man with wavy dirty blond hair steps out. “That should be Todd. He’s going to help me unload the trailer.”

  “Oh, he didn’t have to,” I protest. “I can do that.”

  “We both wanted to,” he says. “Seriously, Alma, we’re here to help you. Just tell us where you want the stuff and we’ll put it there. No questions asked, not even interior decorating advice. The Villier brothers are here to help with anything you need.”

  “Sawyer, with words like that, you’ll have women lined up all the way to the highway.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Nah, no women. Just one.”

  9

  Sawyer

  It’s been three days since I handed Alma the keys to the Willow and she seems to have settled in quite nicely. That’s what I tell myself since she hasn’t called me to ask for any help. But then, what did I expect? I gave her a full tour of her new home after she signed the lease and then showed her how to maintain the damn thing on her own—everything from the solar panels to the water recirculation unit, even the monthly maintenance tasks. She’s also a Marine wife who’s managed quite well on her own when Drew was deployed. It means she knows how to take care of herself and doesn’t need me to be showing up everyday.

  So after getting tired of playing video games with Todd, I head to the Pearl. Dax had called me in the morning asking for help with the gray-water botanical cells. Some of his plants weren’t doing too well and he figured the filter system might need some cleaning. Oh, and he has beer ready.

  Dax meets me outside the Pearl when I arrive. With his blue eyes, thick dark hair and trimmed beard, he’s the leaner, younger-looking version of me at twenty-eight. But then, he didn’t deploy three times to Iraq and Afghanistan. Instead, Dax apprenticed under a Japanese master woodworker straight out of high school, setting up Takeshi and Drexel Woodworking & Design after his mentor’s death. These days, he’s an award-winning woodworker with a showroom on Seventh Avenue, his creations gracing homes in the Hampton’s to ski lodges in Gstaad. But even with all the awards he’s won and the celebrities he’s rubbed elbows with, he’s humble and that’s one of the things I like about him. He’s a Taoseño through and through. He also doesn’t mind getting dirty when it comes to fixing things around the Pearl.

  As I follow him inside, I’m struck by how quiet the Pearl is. The twins would have been running up to greet me by now and begging me to play with them. I was never into kids but that changed with DJ and Ani-Pea. And now, Tyler. “Where’s everyone?”

  “Harlow and the kids are at your girlfriend’s place,” Dax replies. “They’re having a play date.”

  “A play date?” I suddenly realize I never got around to introduce Alma to Harlow. I’d been too busy trying to appear cool and pretending she needed her space. “When did they meet?”

  “The other day.” Dax walks to the kitchen and takes two beers from the refrigerator. He tosses one toward me. “Harlow and the kids dropped by to welcome her to the neighborhood and they hit it off right away. You never told me she was a kindergarten teacher, Sawyer. Now, she and Harlow are talking lesson plans for the twins.”

  “Wow,” is the only thing I can say. No wonder Alma never called me. She’s been busy.

  “The kids get along, too, so that’s a huge bonus,” Dax adds.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, by the way,” I mutter.

  “She isn’t?” Dax looks at me quizzically and then shrugs. “Oh, okay. I figured she was since you guys drove from LA together.”

  “She isn’t,” I say again. “She’s my best friend’s wife. The one who died last year.”

  “So she’s a widow.”

  I pretend not to notice my mistake. “Yeah.”

  “Oh, okay.” Dax pops open his beer and takes a sip. It’s probably killing him that I’m being tight-lipped about Alma. But why shouldn’t I be? She’s my best friend’s widow, and that’s a line I’m not going to cross—or at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself since this all began.

  “So what’s up?” I ask, following him toward a row of planters on the east side of the Pearl.

  “My plants aren’t doing too great on this side and I’m thinking maybe we need to check out the botanical filter, replace it or something.”

  “Sure. When was the last time you cleaned it?”

  “A few months ago, maybe. But you know how it is in the Drexel household. It’s crazy.”

  “I’m not arguing about that,” I say, grinning. “This is Grand Central Station compared to the other places in the neighborhood.”

  Although the Pearl was built to handle heavy use and for the first year, it hosted meditation and yoga workshops, between Dax’s extended family which includes his grandmother, Nana, his sister, Sarah and her boyfriend Benny, and their son Dyami who all come during the week to help Harlow out, sustainability concepts can only go so far. That’s why Todd and I help out with the maintenance tasks whenever we can.

  Soon, Dax and I set out to work, and for the next two hours, we swap stories between what we both did the last three weeks although I hold off telling him anything about Alma. Instead, we talk about his latest project, a custom stairway that’s going to be installed in some Hollywood director’s home in Sun Valley, Idaho, and I tell him about my last assignment, guarding my client on a trip to Saudi Arabia.

  We’re at the other side of the Pearl checking the adobe walls when we hear Harlow and the kids come in. Dax’s face brightens and he grins from ear to ear.

  “There they are,” he says as DJ and Ani-Pea burst into the hallway, their little feet bare against the tile floor. DJ looks just like a mini version of his dad with his thick dark hair and blue eyes (minus the beard) while Ani-Pea, short for Anita Pearl, is her mother’s doppelgänger with her brown hair and hazel eyes
. Harlow follows behind them and next to her, Alma with Tyler in her arms.

  My breath hitches at the sight of her, beautiful in a peach sleeveless top and white crop pants, her hair loose over her shoulders. She looks like she’s gotten some sun and from the way she’s glowing, Taos seems to agree with her.

  “Sawyer. So nice to see you!” Harlow gives me a hug before running after Ani-Pea who bolts toward one of the planters. “Oh no, you don’t,” she says, laughing as she scoops Ani-Pea in her arms. “She loves playing with the soil and if you’re not looking, she dumps it everywhere.”

  “I’m probably going to build them a sandbox tomorrow, mi amor,” Dax says, pulling Harlow toward him and kissing her on the lips. “I’ll put it next to the trampoline.”

  “That’ll be good,” Harlow says as Dax turns to face Alma.

  “Did you guys have a great time?”

  “Yes, we did. Harlow took me around town and to the library. They have really good activities for toddlers like story time and crafts. It will keep Tyler busy,” she says before turning to look at me. “Hi Sawyer. Nice to see you again.”

  My heart races as our eyes meet, but I force a smile and act casual. “Hey,” is the only thing that manages to come out of my mouth before Tyler holds out his arms toward me, babbling excitedly. “Ba-ba!”

  “Why don’t I hold him awhile?”

  Alma doesn’t need any more prompting. She deposits Tyler into my arms and stands in front of me. I smell the scent of roses on her skin, see the blush creeping on her chest.

  I clear my throat, turning my attention to Tyler. “Hey, little dude, you ready for some fun?” As if in response, Tyler yawns a big one and we all laugh. “Oh really? I’m that exciting, aren’t I?”

  “Don’t take it personally, Sawyer.” Alma takes Tyler from my arms. “The kids had a busy day. I should head home.”

  “But you just got here,” Dax says. “I was going to warm up Nana’s stuffed sopapillas.”

  “What’s that?” Alma asks as Dax turns to look at me in horror.

  “You mean, you haven’t introduced her to New Mexican cuisine yet?”

  “Was I supposed to?” I ask innocently. I’ve been spoiled by Nana’s cooking since she found me going through her trash for glass bottles to use for the walls of my first earthship four years earlier. I must have looked homeless for she took pity on me and invited me to dinner. That’s how I’d met Dax. Back then, he was this arrogant punk who blew up at everyone and everything as he grieved for the loss of his mother. He even ended up spending a night in jail after beating up some guy who boasted about sleeping with his then-girlfriend. When he saw the earthship I was building, he declared he wanted one, too, one that he’d build in his mother’s memory. He’s cleaned up since then; more so after he met Harlow.

  “Damn right, dude,” Dax exclaims before turning toward Alma, a determined look on his face. “Then you can’t leave. Not yet. Not until I warm up some of Nana’s stuffed sopapillas.”

  Alma looks at me and then at Harlow. “Do I have a choice in this?”

  “No!” Harlow and I say in unison, laughing.

  “I promise, once you try Nana’s stuffed sopapillas, you won’t ever go back to store-bought ones,” I say, laughing. “It’s not bad, Al. really.”

  “I believe you but I hate to say this.”

  “Say what?”

  “I don’t even know what sopapillas are,” Alma says sheepishly.

  “Now that’s what I call Fate,” Dax says. “Happens a lot around here.”

  While Dax warms the stuffed sopapillas, a staple New Mexican specialty that reminds me of a flour tortilla, only they’re fluffy and fried, the women head to the nursery with the kids while I carry in Tyler’s portable play pen from Alma’s SUV. It didn’t even require any discussion that with all three little humans tired from their morning adventure, it was time for a nap. Twenty minutes later, the children are fast asleep and we find ourselves sitting around the Drexel dining table eating carne adovada-stuffed sopapillas smothered in cheese and green chile. We finish the meal with more sopapillas, for dessert this time, plain and drizzled with honey.

  As Dax and Harlow entertain her with stories about how they first met—a confrontation right in front of the Pearl that had Dax tripping over himself after Harlow almost poked a hole in his chest with her finger—I’ve never seen Alma smile and laugh so much, not since Drew’s death. Her face lights up and her eyes sparkle. When she catches me watching her, she blushes and looks away.

  “So you think you’re going to settle down here after your three month trial period?” Harlow asks.

  “I don’t know yet although I have to admit that I’m enjoying myself so far,” Alma replies. “I was scared at first, especially the first night.”

  Her question surprises me but before I can ask her, Dax beats me to it. “Why? Did anything happen?”

  “It was so quiet. Like, so deathly quiet that I swear I could hear myself think,” Alma says and a heave a sigh of relief.

  “That’s true,” Harlow says, nodding. “It was a shock for me when I first came here. I grew up in the city and so I’m used to… just noise without realizing what it is.”

  Alma laughs. “Exactly. I’ve gotten so used to living next to a car repair shop that I’ve forgotten what quiet really sounds like.”

  “And what does it sound like, especially from inside the Willow?” This time, it’s my turn to ask the question and everyone turns to look at me, surprised. I’d been quiet for most of the meal, enjoying all the stories that there’d been no need to say anything.

  Alma thinks for a moment. “I know it sounds corny but the silence—and all that sagebrush, by the way—reminds me of that feeling when you arrive at a place that feels like home, one you never knew you needed to go to until that moment when you’re actually there.”

  “That’s deep,” Dax says.

  “That’s because this is your home, love.”

  “I don’t know anything else,” he says, winking at Harlow playfully.

  “I hope you like it here,” Harlow says, reaching across the table to hold Dax’s hand. “I’ve lived in New York for so long that until I came here, it was the only thing I knew. Noise everywhere, people talking, moving around next door, the hum of gadgets and appliances... I mean, we’re assaulted by noise of some sort but never realize it until they’re gone.”

  “Would you ever leave here?” Alma asks.

  Harlow shrugs as she glances at Dax. “I don’t know, but we travel enough that I don’t think we have time to miss anything.”

  “I don’t think I’d be traveling a lot, not while Tyler is still young,” Alma says. “I also need to figure out what to do work-wise first.”

  “Will you be teaching here?” Harlow asks.

  “I don’t know,” Alma replies. “It will depend on the school district, but the last three days, I’ve been considering setting up a blog on home schooling off the grid. I know enough about homeschooling and had been planning on setting up a preschool when my husband was alive. God knows there were enough kids around Camp Pendleton.” She chuckles wistfully as I catch Dax watching me. “But now that I’m here, I could channel the research into setting up as a blog and make some money from ads or selling lesson plans. That way, I’ll get to spend time with Tyler.”

  “That’s a good plan,” Dax says. “Mama stayed home and that kinda kept me in line. She also helped me when I was diagnosed with dyslexia.” He pauses, smiling wistfully. “I was one of the lucky ones.”

  “What about you, Sawyer?” Harlow asks, her hand still linked with Dax’s as she turns to look at me.“Did your mom stay at home?”

  I clear my throat. I hardly ever talk about my life growing up and no one’s ever bothered to ask me, at least, not the details. “Yeah, she did.”

  And that’s as far as I go. I don’t want to go into the part where she stayed home because she couldn’t stop drinking. She couldn’t hold a job long enough before she’d make a mistake o
r be caught drunk while on the clock. By the time I was ten, it was Todd who basically raised me, making sure I had something to eat every day, did my homework after school, and that I had decent clothes to wear. Going into the Marines the day I turned eighteen was my way of letting Todd live his life for a change instead of having to worry about his baby brother. By the time I left the Marines, Mom was dying from liver cancer which left Todd taking care of both of us—Mom with her cancer treatments and me with my leg and PTSD—again.

  As the conversation continues about life in Taos, raising kids, and who else in the community have kids Tyler’s age, I can feel Alma watching me from time to time. I know I’m being distant but I can’t help it. My heart is pounding like crazy and there’s a weird feeling at the pit of my belly every time our eyes meet. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way and the last time it happened, it hadn’t ended well.

  As Dax starts to collect the dishes, I join him in the kitchen while Harlow gives Alma a tour of the garden area that’s twice as big as the one in the Willow. It’s one of the best things about the Pearl—the size of the garden that makes the inside look like a tropical forest with its flowering plants and vegetables, and fruit trees. They even tried growing bananas once.

  “So you seeing someone?” Dax is rinsing the dishes while I pull open the dishwasher. All the appliances run on power converted from the solar panels and a wind turbine. If there isn’t enough sun (which is rare in Taos) or wind, then the appliances run on propane generators.

  I take each dish from him and arrange it on the racks. “Why? You want to go out on a date?”

  “With you?” He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m taken.”

  “So why you asking?”

  Dax cocks his head toward Harlow and Alma who are harvesting kumquats straight from the tree. “Because I think she’s awesome. Alma, I mean,” he adds. “I’m currently claimed by the other one. Long term arrangement.” He lifts his hand, showing off his ring.

  “I know she’s awesome or I wouldn’t have let her rent one of my properties.” I pause. That sounds like such a dick move. But offering the place for free would have been worse, and Alma’s always been independent. “She’s my best friend’s wife, Dax, and I’ve known her for a long time. I just want her and Tyler to be happy.”