by Liz D. Marx
“Do you have toilets here?” he asked the cheeky attendant.
“At the back.”
Perfect. Mason strode back inside the shop, passing by the wall of photos. Then, after ensuring he wasn’t in anyone’s line of sight, he retrieved the frame Chloe had pointed at from the wall and took a closer look at it.
Damn, he remembered that day as if it were yesterday. It had taken him a long time to warm up to the Yankees, but Robert and Wilbur McPherson were not your average white men.
The grandsons of Lydia Starr McPherson―the region’s first woman to open her own newspaper―had been brought up to look for opportunities where no one else would. So when they witnessed Mason negotiate his way out of paying the train fare one fine afternoon in 1932, they offered him a place in their newly opened store. It had been a great time in his life, despite the war and the economic depression that washed over the country.
Shoving old memories aside, Mason opened the wooden frame, took the photo out and hid it in his jacket. It would be very hard for anyone to connect the dots, but better safe than sorry.
When he stepped outside, Chloe had stopped circling around like a caged lion and was leaning against the truck, looking grim with her arms crossed over her chest. He stopped a few feet away and waited for her to acknowledge him. He was expecting a punishment by cold silence, but she surprised him once again.
“Why didn’t you call your friend before we left?” she asked, but her eyes weren’t as stern as her words.
“He doesn’t believe in cell phones.”
“What do you mean ‘he doesn’t believe in cell phones’? What is there to not believe?”
“He doesn’t believe new technology adds any value to our lives, so he doesn’t have one.”
She arched her brows and huffed, then went back to pacing around and mumbling. It wasn’t obscenities, Mason was glad to notice. It was something like “what a waste of precious time”. But seeing her deflated like that actually made him feel bad.
“Chloe, listen, I didn’t know my friend wouldn’t be here, otherwise I wouldn’t have driven us all this way.” Well, he would have, but that was not the point.
“Maybe you should have called the museum and checked.”
“Okay, you’re right,” Mason said, his hands rose up in surrender. “I should have called in and checked if he was here or in Norman.”
His mea-culpa strategy worked. Chloe paused and blinked a few times before Mason saw her shoulders sag in resignation.
“I’m sorry,” he said, really meaning it.
“I have a very tight time frame to do this and I hate wasting time,” she said, avoiding his gaze. It was clear she was still angry but it looked like it was impossible for Chloe Doyle to stay angry at anyone for long.
Mason leaned on the side of the truck and put his hands in his front pockets. “At least you saw a part of the country you’d never been to,” he said impishly.
She rolled her eyes but then released a long breath and leaned on the car next to him. “So, did you say your friend is in Norman?”
“Yep, he has a sort of a farm there.”
“So we go to Norman, then,” she announced with a grin.
Oh no, that was the last thing Mason wanted. “But aren’t you tired? Don’t you need a rest from the road?”
“Nope, I’m perfectly fine. Besides, Norman is just a short turn from Hot Springs, so it won’t take us long to get there, right?”
“Right,” Mason replied, but his answer was lost in the wind since Chloe didn’t wait for a response before she pushed off the truck and walked around it to take her place in the passenger seat.
Going to Norman was the last thing he wanted, but if Mason didn’t comply she would definitely get suspicious. Yes, he had wanted their day to be a waste of time, but not as bluntly as this. Now he was between a rock and a hard place. He had to agree to take her to Norman, and so he would. Truth be told, he felt a bit guilty for leading her on.
He got back in the truck with a much more cheerful Chloe and in no time they were back on the highway towards Arkansas.
The late afternoon sun was hanging low on the horizon when Mason took the exit to the Ouachita National Park. It had been a long time since he had noticed Dai-mo, the Sun God. He drew in a deep breath and gazed at his passenger.
Chloe had fallen asleep an hour ago. She had let her hair loose and now the blonde locks framed her delicate heart-shaped face. Her cute small nose contrasted with her wide eyes and long lashes. The chin-length haircut really suited her, but Mason had a suspicion she had chosen that style more out of convenience than fashion.
“Whoa!” his mind screamed inside his head. What do you think you’re doing, buddy, checking her out like that?
Mason shook his head, mentally telling his heart to go back to hibernation. His little arrangement with Miss Petite Tornado was just so that he could find a way of getting his hands on the Tula stone, nothing more. Mason had waited far too long for a way out of his never-ending torture, or so-called life. He wasn’t going to ruin it all by giving in to unwarranted, ill-timed desires.
In the beginning, he had tried to find meaning in everything, anything that crossed his path that could explain his absurd condition. Then, after a century of aimless wondering, he figured it out. The gods were not going to answer his prayers because this was his punishment. This life of nothingness, of meaningless existence, was his sentence for all the pain he had caused.
There had been uplifting times, he would admit, like when he decided to invest in real estate in New York City after the dotcom crash in the late 90s. The market was at its lowest, giving him great investment options. He’d started off by buying old buildings and renovating them with the intention of selling them afterwards, but the charm of New York’s Upper West Side won Mason over, and he saw himself moving in permanently.
It had been interesting in the beginning. The new neighborhood was full of life and many options―there were more than five hundred bars and restaurants just in the fifteen blocks between his office and home. But after a few weeks his life had turned “beige” again―as Foster had once defined it―and Mason resumed his simple and unswerving routine.
He woke up early, worked out at his gym, did some desk work at home followed by a quick lunch. His afternoons were spent mostly at his gallery where he attended to his clients and oversaw the running of his exhibitions. He usually left his gallery after midnight, got take-out on the way home and finished his evening listening to jazz through his surround sound or watching the late night news. And that was it. Seldom did he go out or accept party invitations. Not because he didn’t like nice restaurants or other amusements; he had just seen it all before.
He had tasted every single food combination known to man and had visited every place in the world, from the deepest forests of the Amazon to the coldest islands in the North Pole. He had been a circus acrobat, a punk with a multi-colored mohawk, a yuppie with a spacious office overlooking the Thames River.
Mason had seen, tasted, done and lived everything―enough for several human lifetimes. Nothing was new to him anymore and he was getting tired of it all; tired of a life without meaning, of his loneliness. So when Miss Chloe Doyle entered his life not even twenty-four hours ago, it made him stop and ponder. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she had showed up right at the time when he had given up all hope. If his gut feeling was right, she held the key to his exit door. More specifically, she kept it in her purse.
He had never seen or heard about such a stone, but he had instantly recognized the traces of his people’s magic in it. From what he read of the drawings, the stone was not only a prophecy, it was also a portal to Mantaka’s power.
Chloe’s words invaded his mind. “For thousands of years, Elders of many nations made long pilgrimages to Mantaka to perform ceremonies and receive the gift of the Valley’s healing waters. They received other special gifts like remedial hot stones, clay and herbs to enhance their journey through life.” Ta
lk about teaching the priest how to pray.
Mason shook his head and huffed at his own lack of morals.
Yes, he knew better than anyone in the world how magical Mantaka had been, and yet he let her have her moment in the spotlight. She had been so excited with their cracking-the-puzzle game that Mason didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble. Instead, he’d just sat back and let himself be taken by her enthusiasm.
But that had to stop.
His new mission was to find out if the powers of the falls of Mantaka could heal his condition. That was it—not get entangled in fruitless love affairs. No matter how amusing he found Chloe, and how her cute-geeky way lit up his fire, he would keep away, with his heart locked up.
Mason turned off Highway 270 onto Denby Road. Instead of taking a left as the campground sign indicated, he took a right, in the opposite direction of nosy tourists, even though he knew there wouldn’t be many around. The Thanksgiving long weekend was just around the corner and campers usually stayed put, saving their money to spend on a turkey.
Chloe stirred next to him. Mason saw her sleepy eyes come to and widen in surprise when she realized where they were.
“Are we at Lake Ouachita already?” Chloe asked, straightening herself on the seat.
Mason nodded. “We’re not far from the camping ground.”
“Wow,” Chloe exclaimed as she looked outside her window.
Mason realized she was talking about the view. They were deep in the Ouachita Mountains edging the vast lake. Its pristine blue waters reflected the afternoon sun, like an immense natural mirror. Soaring pine trees surrounded the rustic shoreline as far as the eye could see. The narrow dirt road was already covered in leaves of all shades of brown, yellow and red, the site looked all the more picturesque because of it.
“Look!” Chloe pointed at a red-tailed hawk that crossed the sky above them. Its long wings were perfectly angled for a dive. “Oh,” she gaped at the way the bird shifted its course and disappeared into the trees.
“You don’t do this very often, do you?” Mason asked.
“Do what?”
“This,” he said showing the nature around them. “Go out; be in touch with the wild.”
“I work really long hours,” Chloe replied, shrugging.
Mason parked the truck on a flat area a few yards from a deserted beach. He stepped out and stretched his stiff muscles. The delicious smell of fresh rain on grass permeated the air. The weather was very mild and quite warm for late October. In the corner of his eye, he saw Chloe walk toward the water and followed her.
“I can’t believe we’re only twenty six miles from Hot Springs,” she said, almost as if to herself.
Mason took a few steps closer. “Imagine how amazing it must have been before tourism found this area.”
“Well, it’s not that hard actually, there’s no one around,” she said, a slight frown creased her brow.
Was she worried about being alone with him?
“Look,” Chloe whispered and pointed at a bird perched on a nearby branch. Its singing echoed in the woods. “I love blue jays.”
Mason could understand why. It had a long fan-like tail of striking blue, white and black colors. Its bright blue crest contrasted with the pure white chest and black beak, and matching details around the eyes and wings. It was a truly beautiful animal. Mason closed his eyes and silently let his noo-hi greet the bird.
“Funny, it seems to be watching us,” Chloe whispered.
Suddenly a second pair of wings descended on the same branch followed by a third, then a fourth. In a few moments the whole tree was full of blue jays. The birds had listened to his noo-hi’s call and were coming to greet him.
“Oh, my gosh, this is incredible.” Chloe ran to the car and came back with a large digital camera.
Even though it felt great to connect with other noo-his in a spiritual way, this was too much. Chloe would get suspicious if Mason didn’t do something about the sea of blue feathers that invaded their campsite. So he quickly greeted the birds noo-hi to noo-hi and respectfully asked them to fly away.
“Oh, no,” Chloe exclaimed sadly. “I spooked them with my camera.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“So, where are we staying the night?” she asked, as she aimed her camera lens at a raccoon foraging for food a few feet away.
Mason didn’t answer; instead, he went to the truck and took out the camping gear.
“You can’t be serious,” Chloe said, wide-eyed.
“What’s wrong with camping out here?” he asked, already starting to set up the tent.
“There are no bathrooms for starters, and where am I going to have a shower?”
“You have the whole lake for that,” Mason replied, placing one of the poles safely on the sandy ground.
“But, I...but...” Chloe huffed and puffed a couple of times before exhaling a long sigh and stomping to the truck.
“Yeah, right, how am I supposed to go to the toilet where there’s no toilet?” Mason heard her mumble while she put her camera away.
Something tugged in his chest. For some reason, it hurt to see her upset. So he dropped the camping poles and went to the truck. Leaning over the open window, he asked, “Chloe, you want to know more about Mantaka, don’t you? To experience the Native American magic?”
She paused whatever she was doing and looked up at him.
“Well, this is the way. Our magic is only possible by being one with nature, with the elements.”
She blinked a couple of times then looked outside. A light frown crossed her delicate forehead as she chewed on her lower lip.
He opened the door and stretched his hand out to her. “Come, let me show you something.”
She gazed at him, slight suspicion causing her eyes to narrow, but she took the hand he offered and stepped out of the car.
Mason guided them through the trees toward the lake. “This is probably very foreign, but look around you.” He pointed at the vast landscape before them. The sun was quite low, almost touching the highest hills on the horizon. “Look how everything falls into place without any interference. The trees have been in this same spot for thousands of years. The soil feeds them and in return they feed the soil with their fruits and leaves. The birds feed on the flowers and in return they carry the pollen around, allowing more flowers to grow.”
Mason’s gaze shifted to Chloe’s. “The cycle of giving and taking is the core of our magic, Chloe.”
She stared back at him, a relaxed grin lifted her rosy cheeks. He knew she had understood.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. She complied without hesitation.
He walked around and stopped behind her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “Listen carefully. Open your mind to your surroundings,” he whispered.
She nodded in acknowledgement.
“What do you hear?”
“The wind blowing,” she murmured back. “The birds in the trees.”
“Listen further.” Mason’s lips were just inches from her ear. He was probably too close but she smelled so good. “Relax your mind and take a deep breath.”
She complied and breathed in slowly, but her shoulders were still stiff.
“Listen to the water, the sun, the air. Can you hear what they are saying?”
Mason waited and, after a while, her shoulders relaxed and she melted into his chest. It felt good…too good.
He knew it the moment she grasped what he was trying to show her.
“Yes, I can hear them,” she whispered.
They stood there for a while longer, eyes closed, taking everything in. Mason hadn’t listened to his gods in a very long time. Now, he heard Dai-mo’s greetings, and Kan-sa’s playful jokes inviting his noo-hi to join in on the dance as the wind blew.
He felt Chloe turn around and his hands ached with the sudden chill from the broken contact. He opened his eyes to find her watching him. Her gaze was relaxed yet acute, as if memorizing his features.
> “I think the lake is inviting me in,” she said, and darted to the car.
Mason stood there, wondering why his heart felt so constricted.
After a little while, she came out wrapped on a towel, only the straps of a dark green bathing suit showed.
“Coming?” she asked, then stripped off the towel, gifting Mason with a front-row view of her delicious body.
Just like her other clothes, her bathing suit wasn’t fashionable, just practical, but hugged her curves perfectly. Her body was not that of an athlete, was far from being a model’s, yet she looked absolutely gorgeous. Her breasts were just the right size, her hips were rounded and, combined with her narrow waist, they resulted in a very jaw-dropping package.
Chloe tested the water with her snow-white feet, then dove in and swam away.
Once again, Mason just stood there, gawking at her like a teenage kid. Her golden hair and fair skin sparkled under the late afternoon sun in a divine way. If she had been from his tribe, Mason’s fuzzy mind thought, her noo-hi would have definitely been a fish, or maybe a cute seal. She looked comfortable in the water; she looked delightful.
Forcing his feet to step away, Mason went back to the task of putting the tent up. Maybe some manual work would help him control his increasing desire for her.
Damn, all he could think about was jumping in the water and showing Chloe what the native magic was really about.
His strategy worked, and the challenge of setting up the tent made him forget about Chloe up until the moment she stepped out of the water and walked toward him.
“Where’s mine?” she asked, drying her hair with the towel.
Did she have any idea of how damn sexy she looked?
“I’ve never set up a tent before but I can try,” she declared, looking around for clues.
“This is…” Mason’s voice came out rough. He cleared his throat a couple of times and tried again. “This one is yours. I don’t need a tent.”
“You’re gonna sleep in the car?” She stood just a couple feet away.