Thunder In Her Body (2 page)

After a quick lunch, her realtor took her to a complex near the edge of the village where a relatively new unit had come on the market.  This place, though it didn’t have the curb appeal of some of the other condo complexes, featured units with large square footage.  She’d stipulated that she didn’t want a lot of stairs, because of her recent knee surgery, but the unit was a real find!  It was over 1400 square feet, big and roomy with two large bedrooms, two full baths, one with a jetted tub – living room, dining area, sun room, kitchen, fireplace, laundry area, plenty of closet space and a deck facing one of the mountains.  Best of all, it was
fully furnished
in really upscale southwestern décor.  The only draw backs were the stairs up from the garage, and the steps from the first floor, main living level, up to the upper second story.  After some thought, she decided that this condo, stairs and all, was the best bargain and a sensible investment.  The previous owners had obviously taken excellent care of it.  It had fresh paint, was well-maintained, everything worked, and it would make good rental property when she was not there.    From all sides there were mountain views and it was within ten minutes walk to all the quaint downtown shops and cafes.  This was it.  Her mountain hideaway.

At age 45 – and about to turn 46 in June, she was fortunate to have been able to retire from state service in Texas so young.  Twenty-five years “in cubicle hell” as she liked to call it, which included her federal service.  Now, she’d embarked on a second career building on all those years of government service.  Her new training and consulting company kept her road-weary-busy at times but she was happier than she’d been in a long time.

More names were called and with the removal of a particularly animated group there was, for the first time, room on the soft, dark leather banquette for others to sit.  Clare and Lynette stood awkwardly waiting to see who would fill the vacant places.  There was room for two or three next to where the good looking male pair still stood, but the men did not take the places.  Instead, the Native male beckoned to Lynette and Clare to come and sit as though they were a part of a group who’d been saving space for them.  With a shy shrug, Lynette urged Clare forward toward the couch.

“You gentlemen have been waiting longer than we have,” Lynette said apologetically.

“We don’t really mind standing awhile longer,” the Native male offered.

The tall Anglo guy spoke up in a very friendly voice.

“Ma’m ladies first.”

“Thank you,” Clare replied, as she lowered herself onto the soft, well-worn leather.

Lynette was blushingly aware of how sensitive her nether regions were to the feel of the already warmed leather.  And positioned now closest to the Native, she could smell the freshness of his starched jeans but she dared not look sideways or up.  If she did, the bulge would be only inches from her face.

After another five minutes or so, the raven-haired hostess with the distinctive Spanish accent approached the two gentlemen and said, “Sirs, we’re not going to have a table for two for quite awhile, as you can see we’re just running over tonight.  But we have a booth for four, if some others could join you.  It would get you seated quicker and help us move our seating right along,” she said with something of a plea in her voice.

The tanned one turned slightly and looked down at Clare and Lynette.

“Would it be too forward if we asked you ladies to join us for dinner?” he inquired in a beautiful soft tone.

“It’d be nice if you could,” the taller of the two chimed in.  “Lot better lookin’ company than just this ol’ boy,” he joked, with something of a
Dallas drawl.  “Besides, I’m hungry enough to wet this here hat and start chewing on it,” he laughed.

The ladies looked quickly at each other for shared approval.  After an awkward second, Clare replied, “That’s very kind of you.  We’d love to.”

The front of the Cattle Baron faced the parking lot and
Main Road, the central shopping drag in Crystal Bend, and though it was getting on toward dusk, there was a nice light still peaking over the pines and spraying through the windows.  The eating area itself was lit with that same dim, yellowish glow as the vestibule.  As Lynette followed Clare into their side of the booth, she noticed how much more golden the Native looked in this evening sprinkled light.  She glanced at him every chance she got.  There was something so appealing about him.  The way he walked, the smoothness of his voice, his polished manner, and because Lynette believed in
auras
, his aura felt healthy and good.  She liked him already and she didn’t even know his name.

Sitting directly across from Clare, both of them closest to the huge plate glass window, the tall, Anglo spoke up immediately.

“My name is Aaron Whitehall,” he said reaching across the table to shake both women’s hands.

“I’m Blaze Snowdown,” the Native-American said, also reaching to shake hands.  As a business woman, Lynette was accustomed to giving and receiving a firm hand shake.  When her hand slipped into his for that brief shake, he looked right into her eyes and slowly squeezed her hand the way a mother squeezes the tiny toes of her infant. His hand was strong, with long beautifully shaped fingers but his grasp was tender.  Releasing his grip, as if reluctant, his fingers coursed smoothly down the back of her hand.  He continued to look at her face, sketching her eye brows, examining the pupils of her deep brown orbs, tracing down her balanced nose to the center of her berry-stained, full lips, then her chin.  Neither Clare nor Aaron noticed the intimacy of that touch, but she did.

“I’m Clare Sommerville, and this is my best friend, Lynette Trudeaux,” she said.

“It’s my pleasure, gentlemen,” Lynette spoke, smiling brightly, trying to keep her voice even.

“Snowdown?” Lynette observed, tipping her head a bit sideways.

She thought before she spoke, completing the question in her mind.

“Snowdown.  Sounds like English aristocrary?”

“Hardly,” Blaze replied with a half throaty cough.

“Is it anglicized for a reason?” she asked kindly, looking at Blaze.  Most people tiptoed around the cultural element of Indian naming despite their innate curiosity.  Something about the name told her that there was another name behind it.  She meant no harm.  She just wanted to know.

“Culturally literate are we?,”  he asked with a pleasant smile.  “My given name is Snow Comes Down, but the Navy shortened it, so I have two birth certificates, one with each name,” he responded with no evidence of embarrassment or insult.  Lynette smiled appreciatively, giving a long, slow blink.

“You live up here?” Aaron asked politely.

“No, not really,” Clare answered.  “We come up here from time to time and stay at Lynette’s place.  She loves it up here, and is thinking of maybe retiring on this mountain someday,” Clare replied.

“Why here?” Blaze inquired.

“I started coming up here about nine or ten years ago, or something like that, and I fell in love with Sierra Asombroso.  I fell in love with the tall pines, the clean fresh air, the way the sun dances on her peaks as it changes its mood.  I like being able to come up from the high desert floor to a mountain environment in less than an hour.  I love the fact that rush hour traffic, on a normal day, consists of about 10 pick up trucks, not thousands of cars creeping along on that three-lane parking lot that masquerades as the interstate in Austin.  I love the openness, the freedom, the spaciousness of the surrounding area.  I really enjoy the slow pace and the laid back attitude of the village life, and I never tire of the colors on that mountain, or the gurgling of the Rio Crystal as it runs through town,” Lynette finished with an infectious exuberance.

“Wow,” Aaron replied, “you’re really hooked aren’t you?”

“You bet,” she replied with a contented smile. “I don’t know if I can articulate it, but do you know when you’re somewhere and it just feels right – like you’re supposed to be there?  Like you should have been there a long time ago.  Or, maybe you’d been there before but you hadn’t,” she finished, showing the confusion of her statement on her face.

Blaze’s eyes narrowed.  A frown wrinkled his otherwise smooth forehead.  If the others didn’t, he understood what she was saying.

“Until she brought me up here the first time, I couldn’t imagine what she was raving about,” Clare confessed.

“You’ve heard of tree-huggers.  Well, I’ve got a picture of Clare hugging a hundred foot tall, Ponderosa Pine tree,” Lynette snickered.  “She was just so happy to be up here on that October day.”

“What brought you here in the first place?,” Aaron queried looking over at Lynette.

The waitress appeared and handed each of them a menu.

“And what would y’all like to drink?” she asked, “a cocktail or the like maybe?” in a syrupy sweet, deep Georgia drawl.

“Ladies, what would you like?” Aaron asked politely.

“I’ll just have ice tea,” Lynette replied.

              “And I’ll have water with lemon, please,” Clare added.

“Now y’all just order anything you want.  This dinner is on us.  It’s a pleasure to have such lovely ladies as company for dinner,” Aaron said, and there was earnestness in his voice.

“I’ll take a Coors Light,” Aaron informed the waitress.

              “I’ll have the same,” Blaze added.

“Of all the places in
New Mexico, how’d you find Crystal Bend?” Blaze asked, reviving Aaron’s question.

“I was dating a guy who lived in
Odessa at the time.  We were looking for something different to do one spring weekend,” Lynette began to explain.  “I dug out my trusty atlas and noticed the mountains in the area.  A woman I used to work with and her family had a vacation cabin somewhere up here and they came up during the racing season.  She used to say how nice it was to get away from the Texas heat and into the tall pines.  So, we made a reservation over at Chandler’s Canyon and drove up.  It’s only about a four hour drive from Odessa.  We drove all around the area. Besides, when we drove over here to the village, I knew that I liked it better than the Canyon.  There’s more to see and do in Crystal Bend.  The 7000 feet or so village elevation doesn’t bother me in the least, and, I can see mountains in every direction from right here, especially
my mountain,
” she finished.

“I’m curious,” Aaron spoke up.  “What is it about this mountain?”

Lynette took a long, slow breath as though she were about to disclose a secret before she began to described Sierra Asombroso and its beauty from her perspective.

“I’m sure you all already know that she’s 38 million years old,” she said in an effort not to sound like a school teacher.  She shook her head in amazement.

“You know there’re lots of people who believe that the world has only been here for about five-thousand years.  But here is proof, scientifically documented, that this mountain has been here for over 38 million years!”

“Oh, oh. Here we go,” Clare chided.

“No, go on,” Blaze insisted, clearly wanting to hear what she had to say.

“Well, she’s ancient, venerable, almost like the beginning of the earth.  She’s stood against everything Mother Nature has thrown at her, and she stands proudly, dominating the landscape, drawing us to her. 
New Mexico has almost every form of volcanism known to scientists and she comprises most types.  38 million years ago she was born from fissures and vents, viscous lava, pyroclastic flows and God only knows how long it took her to rise to about 3000 feet above the ground.  Can you imagine the sound?  The growling, the rumbling, the roaring as she gave birth to herself?  The earth shaking and convulsing?  Then about 26 million – 26 million years ago! – it’s mind-boggling - huge blocks of earth pushed and squeezed up from beneath the earth raising her to above or near her present height of over 12,000 feet.  She’s not a cinder cone like many of the volcanoes.  She’s a stratovolcano.  Some people call her a composite-type because she and the surrounding mountains are made up of a variety of volcanic actions – flows, upthrusts, fissures, vents,” Lynette finished enthusiastically and a bit breathlessly.  She hesitated for a second, looking a little embarrassed.

“Forgive me, I’m sure you already know this,” she said, looking from one man to the other.  “You live in her shadow.  I didn’t mean to sound like a PBS narrative,” she said apologetically, visibly chagrined.

Blaze looked at her again with an intense frown on his brow.  He was studying her.  Taking her words, her expressions, her sound, and even the slightest scent of her perfume into his consciousness, into himself.  He was both moved and aroused by her intellect and intensity.

“Damn, Lynette, you didn’t look like a scientist standing out there in the lobby,” Aaron laughed.  “No horned rim glasses, pith helmet or chunky brown shoes,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I’m not,” she replied.  “I just love mountains and I love
this
mountain,” she said with emphasis.  “The most beautiful ones I’ve ever seen were the Tetons in Wyoming, and I did get to climb a volcano when I lived in Japan.  In fact, the Air Force base at which we were stationed sat near a range with eight dormant volcanoes – the Hakkoda Range.  I could sit on our outside steps and see the perfect cone rims of each of those craters.  They were mesmerizing,” she opined, with a far-away look in her eyes.