Tommie was a very interesting person. While Adam was supposed to interview her, Rosa asked more questions than either Vida or Adam. She was the only one who didn’t know Tommie as well as the others. She discovered Tommie had appeared in several local productions. She would be comfortable with being onstage so to speak. Cameras, lights, and people barking instructions could be nerve-racking. Rosa felt she was going to be fine when she had to sit for the photos.
Of course, she still had to tell Crawford there was a new development to his plan. He was going to just love that. Rosa smiled at the explosion she knew was imminent. But eventually he’d see the merit in it. If Rosa was right, Tommie was going to be good. And Crawford would have the first crack at a new client.
Adam walked her to her car after they all left the restaurant. Tommie was practically floating. She couldn’t wait to run and tell her friend. Rosa remembered that enthusiasm. It was good to see it hadn’t been lost.
Adam took her hand and then put his arm around her waist. At the car, he turned her toward him and kissed her lightly on the mouth.
“You know this is a small town,” Rosa said. “Not only does everyone know your name, they know what you eat.”
From the look on his face and the way he stared down at her, she realized the double meaning of her words. “If you keep holding me like this, we’re going to be the talk of the town.”
“Don’t tell me you think we’re not already?”
Surprised, Rosa stepped back but came up against the car. The heat of the metal against her back was a weak rival to the internal furnace generating inside her. Adam’s gaze was like fire. Rosa felt herself burning in it. After a moment, he released her from his stare, somehow knowing the two of them were in a public place and what was on their minds required the privacy of a closed bedroom door.
“That was a wonderful thing you did in there.” Adam gestured toward the restaurant. Rosa heard the tremor in his voice. “If the shoot doesn’t go well, she’ll know she had a chance.”
“Don’t worry about the shoot. She’s going to be fine.”
“You’re that confident?”
Rosa looked beyond his shoulder, at the place where Tommie had left them. “I’m that confident.”
Chapter 8
Rosa hadn’t been this happy in years. And she felt as free as the clouds high in the Montana sky. She’d always had a schedule to maintain, places to be at specific times of the day or night, dresses to wear, makeup to be done, fittings to be had. It was unnerving to have none of that to do, even though Crawford and a crew would be coming in a week. Rosa knew their presence would be temporary.
She drove without a destination. The land was simply too beautiful to ignore. She could understand why Robert Redford loved Montana so much, why he put it in his films and showed it to the world. She could see the huge expanse of emerald green carpeting flowing for miles and miles before it reached a tree line or butted up against an outcropping of hills. Hills that became mountains. Mountains that became sky and sky that added an enormous roof to the landscape.
As she passed a road she hadn’t gone down before, a bridge caught her attention in the distance. It was beautiful. Slowing the car, she turned and stopped as she approached it. Taking her camera, she pushed herself up over the windshield and took a few shots. Only when she got out of the car did she see the truck parked under some trees a few yards away. Looking around, she saw no one.
Going toward it, she peered inside to see if anyone was there. It was empty. After her encounter with the teenagers in town, she wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances. Adam had told her it was relatively safe in Waymon Valley. The crime rate was low and mainly limited to teenage pranks. The truck reminded her of the day she had found Bailey along the road. She couldn’t drive away without checking to see if someone needed help.
She wondered where the owner of the truck was. She should just get back in the car and leave. Seeing no one, she headed back for her car. Just as she reached it, she heard a voice.
“I knew I didn’t leave a red car up here. Especially not a Corvette.” Then a man looked at her. “Rosa, what are you doing here?” he asked.
She opened her eyes wider. “Mike,” she said. “It’s your truck. Her voice held relief in it. She hoped he didn’t hear it.
He offered a hand and Rosa shook it. “I didn’t expect to find you coming from under the bridge,” she said.
“I’m the local engineer, remember?” he asked. “Once a year we come out and inspect all the bridges in Waymon Valley.”
“When I was in school I studied engineering.”
“Vida told me. Did you ever work in the field?” he asked.
“Unfortunately no. Right after school I began modeling. I suppose I have a little bit of regret about that.”
“Regret? Why?”
“I won’t be a model forever. Unfortunately looks fade. Younger models come along. It’s a very fickle business.”
He laughed. “From where I’m sitting you have years to go. And then some.”
“What were you doing down there?” she asked.
“Inspecting the bridge, looking at the struts, making sure nothing’s corroded, rotting away, making sure the bridge is safe.”
“How long has it been here? When was it built?”
“Sometime in the 1930s,” he guessed. “It was built pretty solidly back then. Even though engineering has changed, materials have changed, we know a lot more about stress, wind, and water, pressure, and movement of the earth than then, we can’t keep things from deteriorating. So those built prior to our modern times need as much attention to make sure they are as structurally sound as those built today. Not only do cars go across this bridge, but at least one truck for every man, woman, and child in the county crosses it, too. And then we have some heavy-duty equipment that needs to come out here and reach some of the outlying communities. Not to mention the occasional Corvette.” He gave her a friendly wink.
“Are there many ranches around here? I’ve actually only seen parts of the Osborne place.”
“Most of them are gone. A lot of land was sold off to corporations. Nobody wants to run a ranch these days. They’re more interested in running computers.”
“I run a computer myself,” Rosa said. “But mainly to reach my family, get on the Internet, do e-mail, read the news. That kind of thing. Nothing heavy-duty. I’m not a novice at it, but I’m certainly not an expert.”
Rosa lifted the camera and took a photo of the bridge.
“I heard you were working with Bailey Osborne on his memoirs.”
She nodded.
“You could probably enhance them with some good pictures.”
Rosa lowered the camera and looked at him.
“It’s pretty country. And there are plenty of buildings in town that his ancestors built or restored.”
Rosa thought about it. “I’m not writing a book. Bailey is doing all the talking. I’m just writing down what he says.”
“How’s the car driving?” Mike asked, changing the subject. His attention was totally absorbed by the car. It seemed no one was able to resist the beauty of the machine, including her.
“It drives like a dream.”
“Most people out here drive trucks or SUVs. This car is pretty low to the ground. It could get torn up along some of the roads.”
“I’m trying to stay off those,” she said. “Mainly my travel routes will be in and out of the Valley. Maybe I’ll go to Butte once in a while. I’m sure a Corvette won’t be a problem.”
“When you have a car like this,” Mike said, “you don’t want that kind of driving. You want open roads.”
She smiled. He’d gotten her number right away.
“It’s a luxury. I don’t often get to drive, because I’m always working. When I’m home in New York, public transportation is the fastest route to anywhere. But now that I need to drive to get anywhere, I figured it’s worth doing it.”
Mike smiled. “It certainly is,” h
e said.
“It does command a certain amount of attention,” Rosa said. “People know me everywhere I go.”
“That has nothing to do with the car.”
Whoever said once newsprint is in your blood, it’s there for life, was a liar. Adam stared at the Delete key on his computer keyboard. The print on the screen was junk. Worthless drivel. He understood the love of people who grew up using typewriters. They could rip the paper from the roll, crumple it into a ball, and pitch it toward a wastebasket strategically set across the room. That’s what he wanted to do, but the physical satisfaction of expressing his frustration was denied to him with a little key.
He’d been working on the story about Rosa’s interview with Tommie for nearly an hour. And he had nothing. He punched the key and a message appeared seeking his confirmation. This time he tried to murder the ENTER key. The screen went blank. He’d written news, hard news. For years he’d covered presidents, dictators, rock stars, disasters, and coronations. So why was this simple human-interest piece eluding him?
Adam began typing again. The letters slid across the screen, forming words, then sentences. But when he looked at the paragraph he’d written, it was all about Rosa, not Tommie. Highlighting the screen, he deleted the text again. The cursor blinked at him. He remembered his first official job as a reporter. When he went to write the story, his hands were clammy and he continued deleting it and starting over. Maybe he’d been out of the business too long. Maybe he didn’t have it anymore.
“What’s going on?”
Adam swung around in the office chair and looked at his father. Bailey held a book and walked into the room. He dropped down in a chair opposite Adam. “What are you writing?”
“Nothing, I’m watching a blinking cursor. I think I’ve been away from it too long. Nothing is coming.”
“What’s it about?”
“Something for the cable news. I interviewed Tommie, Rosa, and Vida. They’re helping Tommie with her dream of becoming a model.”
“I heard. Rosa’s including her in a photo shoot she’s doing here.”
“I guess I don’t have to write the story if everyone already knows the details.”
“No, it’ll do you good to keep your skills honed.”
“What are you doing?” Adam asked his father.
“I’m expecting Rosa. We’re going to go over some notes I made.”
At the sound of her name, Adam couldn’t help remembering their last time together. He forced himself to remain relaxed.
“I see you two have gotten past your differences.”
“What does that mean?”
“You were seen kissing her on Main Street. You know nothing is ever a secret in the Valley. Like your truck being parked outside her house overnight.”
“Technically, that’s my house.”
Bailey raised his eyebrows. “You think anyone’s going to make that distinction?”
“I don’t really care.”
He didn’t know what to expect from his father, but he didn’t expect what happened.
Bailey smiled. And then he laughed, a deep belly laugh, like Adam hadn’t heard in years.
After a moment, he smiled, finding it contagious.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. Her. You’re right for each other.” Bailey stood up. “She’s bringing you back to life.”
“Back to life?”
“Yeah, and don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
The doorbell rang at that moment. Something inside Adam jerked. He heard Medea’s footsteps as she headed for the door.
His father referred to Maureen Carter, her death, her son, and Adam’s subsequent return to the Valley. Adam had been thinking about going back to some form of the news. It’s why he went to the cable station that morning and why he jumped at the chance to write a story. He knew it would give him more time with Rosa and he was fresh for a new experience with a woman who completely captivated him.
“Don’t blow it,” Bailey said. He gave Adam a piercing look and pointed his index finger at him before leaving to go and meet Rosa.
Adam heard her voice in the hall. He was unable to move. Although he wanted to rush to her side, he was too afraid of what he might do. He’d kissed her on Main Street, an action that hadn’t gone unnoticed. He’d known at the time that the street was full of people he knew. Stares had followed them out of the restaurant and undoubtedly people sitting near windows looked out to see them in the parking lot.
Relaxing his shoulders, Adam knew he really didn’t care. He wanted Rosa to know how he felt, even though he knew she was only here for the summer and the days were running fast toward fall. She wouldn’t be here the rest of her life. She had commitments waiting for her return. And once the photo shoot was done, she might be ready to leave. She was a complication in his life. One he’d tried to avoid and couldn’t. His dad was right about one thing. She had made him live again.
He heard footsteps again. She was following his father. As she passed the door to the office, she stopped. Leaning into the door, he watched her hair swing past her shoulder. He remembered running his hands through that hair. In an instant, he relived them coming together. If she felt even a tenth of what he had, she couldn’t leave.
He didn’t think he could live without her.
“Go on in,” Bailey prompted Rosa. “I have some papers to get together. Talk to Adam while I find them.”
Bailey gave her back a little push and Rosa stepped across the threshold. She saw the understanding gleam in the old man’s eyes. He was playing Cupid. Rosa didn’t mind it. She looked forward to a moment alone with Adam.
“Hi,” she said, standing in front of him.
Adam didn’t answer unless she could read it in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, in the way she saw his demeanor change. He started for her, his stride removing the distance between them. His arms went around her waist and his mouth sought hers. Rosa went up on her toes to meet his kiss. The camera around her neck pressed into her belly. Adam deftly pushed it aside and their bodies joined.
Hunger climbed through Rosa’s system like she’d never known. Pressing herself closer to Adam, she accepted the invasion of his tongue. Together their heads danced and bobbed until they were forced to breathe. She lay in his arms for a moment after he broke contact, trying to get her temperature down and her heart back to a normal beat.
Bailey was due back at any moment and while he condoned the feelings she had for his son, Rosa didn’t want him to find them embracing each other.
“I’ve thought about you all day,” Adam said. Rosa noticed his voice was deeper than usual.
“My thoughts have been on you, too.”
He stepped back, his hands running down her arms to her fingers. Then he pulled her across the room and they sat down.
“You’ve been out taking photos again. I’d think you had the entire valley photographed by now.”
Rosa looked down at the camera and back at him. “I was following one of Mike Holmes’s suggestions.”
“Mike Holmes?”
Rosa nodded. “I met him under a bridge.”
“You meet a lot of people under bridges.” Adam smiled. He relaxed in the chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“He was coming out from inspecting the bridge. I was taking pictures.”
Adam looked interested.
“He suggested something for you, too.”
“What?”
“That I add photos to your father’s stories. Only I’m not writing a story. I’m just writing down what your father says. You could include them in the book.”
Adam walked to a credenza and put his hand on top of a large worn wooden box. “That’s not a bad idea.”
Rosa went to him and ran her hands up his back. She looked down at the box.
“What’s this?”
“A present. For you.”
“Me!” She smiled, struggling to look over his shoulder. “I like presents.
What is it?”
He pushed it toward her. Releasing her hold on him, she moved around and opened the box. Inside were cameras. They weren’t new, but they had been lovingly maintained. There were three of them, a collection of lenses, filters, a light meter, flashes, and rolls of film.
“I don’t know if the film’s any good,” Adam said. “I’ve had them for two years.”
Rosa stared at the contents. She rubbed her hands on the cameras, lightly touched the filters standing up in a tray.
“Adam, I can’t take Maureen’s cameras.” She spoke softly as if she had entered a graveyard.
“She would want them used.”
He hadn’t denied who had owned the cameras.
“I’m sure she would have liked you,” Adam said.
Rosa looked up. “Are you sure?” She wasn’t sure which question she was asking. Would Maureen really have liked her or would she really want her cameras used? “I’m not a professional. Photography was her life.”
Rosa looked through the viewfinder of one of the cameras. She lifted a lens out and snapped it in place. She liked the feel of the instrument. There was no film loaded in it, but Rosa snapped a few shots anyway. Lowering the camera, she looked from it to Adam.
“She couldn’t have used these on assignment,” she said.
Adam shook his head. “They were what she used when she wanted to do things for herself. She had a huge collection of photographs that she said she was going to turn into books.”
Rosa knew she never got the chance. “What happened to them?”
“They belong to her son. When we packed up her apartment, I had them put in storage. When he’s old enough I’ll make sure he understands what they are.”
Rosa turned and faced him. “Are you sure you want me to have these?” she asked. “I mean, I can’t take them, but I wouldn’t mind borrowing them.”
“Use them as long as you like.”
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