Last Night's Kiss

by Shirley Hailstock

  “Reading.”

  “Reading what?” He was surprised. He knew she was in Montana to rest and relax.

  “I’m researching some…information.”

  Adam noticed she was choosing her words carefully. “On what?” he asked.

  “On the Valley,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Interest. Joy told me some interesting facts at lunch. I wanted to read up on some of them. Besides, I’m here for a while. I can’t sit around doing nothing.”

  “I see,” he said. “Joy has enlisted you to get my father to write his memoirs.”

  He knew right away what was going on.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  Her chin didn’t jut out, nor did she raise it, but there was still the air of challenge that was part of her.

  “I think it’s a good idea. He knows so much about the area. Don’t you think future generations will want to know how Waymon Valley came to be settled? How it’s grown into a typical American town?”

  He gestured but didn’t commit himself.

  “Look how much of black history has been lost. We lose more and more every day if people like your father won’t pass along what they’ve lived through.”

  “My father isn’t famous. Who would care what he had to say?”

  “History isn’t only written by the famous. And often the history that is written by them isn’t completely true. It’s public relations.”

  “Isn’t this a reporter’s job? Digging for the truth and sharing it with the public at large?”

  “I suppose that’s one definition, but it doesn’t mean a layman like me can’t get involved,” Rosa defended. “Ordinary people experience things, too. Their perspective shouldn’t be discounted. There are many oral histories left from the Depression Era and the Black Renaissance. They are invaluable in learning about that time period and what it meant to people. Waymon Valley, from what your father tells me, was a huge black community back in the 1800s. I didn’t know that. I would never have thought it. Most of the history we learned concerns the South. There was a migration North, but very few times do we ever hear anything about people going West.”

  “Are you planning to write a book?” he asked.

  Rosa shook her head. “Writing is a specialized field. I’m sure you know that. But I can at least record what he says. Maybe he’ll write a book. You could edit it. You have the expertise. And it would give him something to do that’s quiet and keeps him home, off that horse you don’t want him riding. And give him something to occupy his time.”

  Adam thought about that. It was a good idea. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Often he was the one sitting at the computer producing stories for newspapers. He’d thought of writing a book himself. Editing one might be a way of getting his feet wet. Yes, it was a good idea. And having his father writing and him editing would give them a common goal.

  “What are you thinking?” Rosa asked.

  “I think it’s a good idea.”

  She smiled. “So you’ll help Joy and me get him to do it?”

  “I’m not joining a conspiracy.”

  “It’s a good one.”

  He changed the subject. “What are you reading?”

  “A diary.”

  “Whose diary?”

  “I think it’s your great-grandmother’s, Clara Winslow Evans. She came out from Virginia at the end of the 1800s.”

  He nodded. She was his father’s grandmother. “I’ve read the diary,” Adam said. “My father donated it to the library when they moved into this building. This was their house.”

  “Whose house?” Rosa asked.

  “Clara and Luke Evans, my great-grandparents. When I was a boy I used to run through these rooms. I don’t remember much of it, just that it was big and I used to slide down the banister.”

  Adam glanced over his shoulder. The staircase was still there. “And I always got a hug from my great-aunts.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Ten years.”

  “I see you know a fair amount of the history of the Valley, too.”

  She was calling it the Valley now. Waymon Valley had been shortened to the Valley almost immediately after it was settled and after Waymon Evans died. Rosa must be feeling as if she belonged here.

  “Where are you in the diary?”

  “She’s talking about her first winter. The snow. The people, miners, the Indians, her aunt Emily. How she met Luke. They have quite a love story.”

  “Risqué for their day.”

  “You should be very proud of your heritage.”

  “I am,” Adam said. Then he remembered she was adopted. She didn’t have this in her past. He could trace his family back to Clara coming to Montana. He could go back to her life in Virginia, her family living in Washington, D.C., and beyond that. Rosa knew nothing of herself. Adopted as a baby, she could remember nothing of her past. Adam wondered if this was why she was interested in the history of the Valley.

  Adam had taken his heritage for granted until this moment. He had a wealth of knowledge to call on. He had his father, his aunts in Butte, and other relatives who had spread out across the West.

  “I wish I had known my grandparents. I wish I knew anything about my past, but I don’t,” she said.

  Now he understood more about why she’d agreed to this scheme. “Didn’t the parents who adopted you get a history from the adoption agency?”

  She shook her head. “I told you I was abandoned. They found my mother, but she died without a word, and no one knew her. Not even DNA testing came up with a match for my father. The only conclusion we made is that I was probably not born in a hospital in Texas. I could have been brought there and then left.”

  Adam would guess there was some Hispanic blood in her ancestry. Her hair was jet-black and curly, although that could be done with a good curling iron. Her skin tone had an exotic look in the combination of yellow and brown. He could easily see why photographers loved to photograph her. She was made for the cameras, and the subdued lighting of the library was perfect to showcase her features. She was sexy even when she wasn’t trying to be. All she needed to do was wet her lips and Adam was sure his body would stand at full arousal.

  “I guess I should be getting home. I can finish this another day.” She closed the books that were open in front of her and placed them on the side cart. Then, shutting down the library computer, she stood up to leave.

  “Was there something else?”

  “I thought I’d do the gentlemanly thing and see you to your car. I realize you can take care of yourself but I’m feeling chivalrous.” He added the last to let her know he wasn’t trying to patronize her. The truth was he was fascinated by her and wanted to spend a little more time with her. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he’d indulge himself this once.

  “Did you lock the door you came through?” she asked as they reached the front entrance.

  He nodded. “As tight as possible.”

  Rosa pulled the front door closed all the way and tried it several times to make sure it was locked. She preceded him to her car. Adam opened the door and she slipped inside.

  “Should I see you home?” he asked.

  “That won’t be necessary. I can find my way.”

  “You won’t go walking again? If something happens, keep your phone with you.”

  “I could tell you the same thing. It appears that night we both had a lapse of protocol.”

  “I’m serious,” he said. “We’ve told you it could be dangerous around here. It doesn’t seem to have sunk in.”

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t go out without an escort, someone who knows the dangers and how to handle them?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, since my usual escort is laid up, are you volunteering for the job?”

  He hadn’t been, but he was backed into a corner now. “I can fill in for my dad for a couple of days.”

  “Good, meet me tomorrow morning at six o’clock.
I want to get to the hills before the mist burns off.”

  The following morning Rosa pressed the symbol on her key fob as she got out of the car, not waiting for Adam to come around and help her. The trunk popped open. Pulling it fully up, she lifted out a rifle and leaned it against the bumper.

  “This is my rifle,” Adam said. He lifted it, scanning it from handle to barrel. He held it as if he hadn’t seen it in a while and needed to remember the feel of it in his hands.

  “It was at the house,” Rosa said.

  “You just took this out of the trunk?”

  She withstood his steady gaze. “Yes,” she said. He’d seen her move it.

  “You know carrying a concealed weapon in this state is against the law?” He replaced it against the bumper and folded his arms over the rifle he’d brought with him, carrying it in plain view as Rosa had driven into the naked hills.

  “I believe it’s against the law in every state.” She reached for her camera case and at the same time pulled a piece of paper from the fanny pack on her hip and handed it to him.

  “This is a permit issued by the state of Texas. It means nothing here.” He handed it back.

  Rosa said nothing. She pulled a second form out and without looking at it exchanged it for the one he held.

  Adam was quiet as he read it. “I see you’ve thought of everything.”

  “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she quoted.

  The paper was a reciprocal and temporary permit allowing her to carry a weapon in the state of Montana.

  “When did you get this?”

  “A few days ago.”

  “Before or after the night you walked in the dark?”

  She knew he already knew the answer. “After,” she said. She caught the slight smile on his face. “You were so good to inform me of the dangers of living here. I thought I’d better be prepared to protect myself.”

  “Do you know how to use a gun?”

  Rosa turned to him then. “I’m from Texas, Adam. We all know how to use guns.”

  “Dallas isn’t the Old West. It’s metropolitan. Much like New York. So, do you know how to use this rifle?”

  “Would you like a demonstration?”

  “A simple yes will do.”

  “Yes, I know how to use it.”

  Reaching beyond her, he lifted the tripod from the trunk while she shifted the camera bag to her shoulder.

  “Where do you want this?”

  “The best place is a little ways into the trees over there.” She pointed toward the mountains.

  They walked in silence to the place she indicated. Rosa was conflicted over spending time with Adam. When they were together she felt a connection to him. But at times she also wished she was alone. His mood said one thing, but his actions another. Since he’d kissed her that day in her living room, he’d mainly kept his distance.

  Until last night.

  She had the feeling that if they got too close, like magnets they’d be drawn to each other and unable to stop themselves. Yet while he kept his distance, he was always there when she needed him.

  He set the tripod up and stepped away from it. Rosa fitted the camera into the screw mechanism. Adam walked several yards away. He had his back to her. He looked like a hunter reading the horizon, alert for any predator. Rosa looked through the viewfinder and snapped a photo of him.

  Propping her rifle against the tripod, she took a deep breath, remembering her last trip to the mountains. The air was still thin, but she was getting used to it. She still felt a little weakness and knew it had more to do with the company than the air around her.

  Framing the space in front of her, she got to work and took several photos. Turning, she saw Adam and quickly snapped another one of him. As much as he’d been in front of a camera while working as a reporter, she felt he shied away from her taking his picture. As she moved around to get better views, Adam moved, too, as if they were involved in a silent dance, one that kept him just out of sight. Still, she got him in several pictures.

  The last one she took had him in profile, standing next to a natural rock wall and contemplating the distant mountain. Rosa envisioned it fully developed. An idea came to her then. She’d been thinking about Bailey’s party. Watching Adam through the camera lens, she thought she’d put some photos together in a collection and give them to Bailey. His party was coming up and she hadn’t bought him a gift yet.

  “You can stop taking pictures of me now,” Adam said without looking at her.

  “So you knew I was photographing you.” He didn’t reply. “After being in front of the camera all those years, don’t tell me you’re camera shy.”

  “Not exactly. I was delivering a story, not posing for pictures.”

  “You’re good looking enough to be a model.” Rosa took a moment to appraise his many attributes. He still had a fine butt. And from what she could see, and the muscles she’d felt when he had her in his arms, she knew his image could sell clothes. “Want me to introduce you to someone? I have a wonderful agent,” she teased.

  “I’m a rancher, not a model,” he said.

  “It’s not a working ranch,” Rosa replied. “And you’re not cut out to be the country gentleman. You can’t tell me you’re going to spend your life watching grass grow.”

  “When I do make a decision, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “You don’t have to get testy. I thought we were becoming friends…or at least being civil to each other.”

  Adam looked away from her. He stopped and listened in a posture that was much like a dog on point. Rosa followed Adam’s gaze. She saw nothing.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Shhh,” he said. He stayed in the same position for a long moment. Then he relaxed. “Nothing,” he said. “I thought I heard something.”

  “A bear, maybe?” Rosa said it under her breath, but apparently Adam’s ability to hear was keen.

  “Yes, a bear.”

  She went back to her photos. Scanning the distance, she stopped several times to look from the camera lens to the mountains. The view was spectacular. Rosa took a deep breath and snapped. She thought about the diary she’d read. Montana was only a territory when Clara Winslow settled here. What must she have thought seeing this country in its virgin state, before there was a road and guardrails, before picnic tables and a visitor’s bureau? Rosa took another picture.

  “Thought any more about that book?” Rosa asked Adam.

  “Yeah, I started making some notes.”

  Rosa swung the camera around to look at Adam. She opened her mouth to speak and froze. She went cold. Her arms and legs were numb and her voice closed off. In an instant, sweat poured over her and heat pumped through her system like an overloaded furnace. Her heart forgot to beat. Her body forgot to breathe.

  Behind Adam was a bear.

  She moved her head to the side. The image grew from an inch to life-size. It must have weighed a ton, she thought. She stared directly at it. She didn’t want to call out to Adam. He might jerk and cause the animal to charge.

  The bear was looking at Adam. Rosa moved quietly, stealthily, her heart resuming a thunderous beat. It was jumping in her chest like a drum, swollen large enough to lodge in her throat and cut her breaths to a mere fraction of normal, but her actions were slow and methodical.

  She lifted her rifle and pointed it. The top had a viewfinder. She was grateful for it, even though she was a good shot. Adam was close in this one. This wasn’t like target practice with Owen and Dean at the shooting range. This was the real thing. And Rosa could use the gun. She’d passed the Army Artillery test that one of Owen’s friends had given her. But that was practice. Since then she’d never used a gun for anything but target shooting. And she’d never shot anything real, anything living.

  Pointing it, she waited. If the bear turned and went away, she wouldn’t fire. But if it took a step toward Adam, it was history. Time didn’t move. It didn’t bend or warp; it seemed to cease. Rosa
didn’t know how long she remained in position, waiting and watching. She only knew that Adam stood to be killed and that she would not hesitate to choose which of them would have a bad day.

  While she waited, Adam seemed lost in his own thoughts. He never moved. She didn’t think he knew the animal was behind him. The wind blew away from them. He couldn’t smell the bear, but the animal had found Adam’s scent and come to investigate.

  Suddenly it raised its head. It started running forward. Adam sensed something and turned. His rifle was lifting, but there wasn’t enough time for him to get a shot before the bear reached him.

  Rosa fired.

  The bear went down, pounding the ground and writhing before going still.

  Adam swung his gaze back and forth between her and bear.

  “Are you all right?” she asked. The words came out, but they were too quiet for him to hear. Her arms dropped to her sides. The rifle’s weight seemed to double after the discharge. Rosa held on to it, ready in an instant, to raise it and shoot again. She couldn’t move. Her legs felt too weak to support her. Tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  Adam came to her. “Rosa?”

  She lifted her head and stared at him, but she didn’t see him.

  “You killed a bear.”

  “No,” she said, finding strength in her knees to stand up straight.

  Adam looked back. The bear lay where it had fallen.

  “Tranquilizer,” she whispered. “We should go.”

  He understood immediately. There weren’t bullets in her gun, but tranquilizer darts. The bear would be out for an hour or so, but after that it would be alive and angry.

  Regaining some of her energy, Rosa lifted the tripod, not bothering to remove the camera from it, and started for the car. Adam followed with her bag and the two guns.

  “I’ll drive,” he said.

  She handed him the keys without question. She was shaking. She knew she was in shock and driving wouldn’t just be a bad idea; it would be dangerous. Storing the equipment in the trunk, Adam opened her door and helped her inside. He pushed her head back against the upholstery and closed the passenger-side door.

  “I’m all right,” she said as he took his seat and started the engine. She looked back as they drove away. She couldn’t see the bear. It lay around a bend. She knew the tranquilizer would keep it down for a while, but it was first time she’d ever shot anything alive. It was an animal. And it was attacking, but she felt queasy even though she hadn’t killed it.