Page 4 of The River in Spring
“How old are you? I’d like to know if the reason you have to climb a tree to look at a woman is because you’re going through a mid-life crisis.”
I could start laughing right here, if it wasn’t for the stinging insult just lobbed over the net. Maybe it’s the grey temples. She thinks I’m old. Way to wound a man. I touch my heart and fake a fatal stab.
She giggles. That doesn’t suck at all. It almost makes up for what was said.
“I’m forty-three. Now if you think that’s old, it’s your lack of experience with men. You’re young, so that could be the case.”
“Touché. But I never said anything about you being old. I don’t think any woman would look at you and say that.”
“Okay. You redeemed yourself. Now answer my question.”
I make it upright and try not to reveal just how messed up my ankle feels. This excruciating pain doesn’t affect me. Macho posing bullshit.
“I’m twenty-nine. Not so young or lacking in experience as to make me a freak.”
Maudie’s weak bark sounds from the top of the incline. When we look, she is scoping the way to make it downhill to be certain I’m okay.
“No, girl! Stay there! Shit! She followed me!”
I try to take a step, but it’s impossible without help. The dog places a paw on the incline and tests the first step down. Dove reads my expression of concern. I’m going to need help.
“She’s ill. I don’t want her to try to come down.”
“Stay here. I’ll get her. And do what? Is your place close?”
“Thank you. Yes, through the thicket of trees and across the field. You can see it clearly. You’d be willing to do that? After I did, well, you know.”
Her stunning smile answers. The brown eyes do too, like sunlight through a bottle of whiskey. Despite my recent collision with earth, I feel gravity losing its hold.
2
Dove
It’s not just the old hound who watches. The younger one does too. Climbing the incline, I feel his stare landing on my ass like a laser beam.Zap.Don’t mind it. Not a bit. As he found out, I’m a free spirit. A woman who swims naked for her own pleasure. In fact, here’s a little wiggle. Right now he’s wondering if I did that on purpose.
Watch all you want, Nobel Lyon. I’ve already decided to trust you.
It isn’t because I checked you out online before planning the trip. Or because you are my version of physical perfection. Tall, dark, sexy, and a little shy. Well, maybe that’s ten percent of the reason. But ninety percent is how you love your dog. Grandpa would say you could tell everything you need to know about a person by how they treat their animals. And when Nobel told a little of Maudie’s story, it touched my heart. There was love between the words.
Reaching the top of the hill, I lift myself upright. Maudie slowly pads her way over. The cold nose against my bare leg sniffs a hesitant question.Can you be trusted?Her tired head angles to get a look at the stranger, and cloudy eyes scan my face for signs of goodness.
“Hello, Maudie. I’m Dove. You’re a pretty girl. Yes, you are.”
My outstretched palm gets a sniff and a lick, sealing a hesitant approval. As we turn to walk off, she stops and gives one final look at her human.
“I’ll meet you there! Just go home, girl,” he calls from the river.
He’s talking to the dog. Oh, my heart just melted a little. With a wave, he starts for the hidden pathway known only to him. Looks like the walking stick is working fine. That was one of my better ideas. We unloaded the ammunition and wrapped the rifle in the blanket. Luckily, Duct tape is always included in my gear. I easily find the sweater left behind, then head through the trees. In a few minutes a sliver of an open field comes into view, and then the whole picture.
“Look at all the beautiful flowers! Do you like smelling them?”
Maudie is used to human to dog conversation, because she does the same thing Poko did whenever Grandma asked him a question. He’d stop and make eye contact. Just in case the words walk or treat were about to be part of the conversation. He wanted to be ready. The spaniel’s big brown eyes would plead the case. Grandma could be played like a violin by her furry friends.
“You’re going to get something special when we get to the house. Promise, girl.”
The violin plays for me too.
As we come out onto the field of wildflowers, I’m taken by the riot of color. Each blossom known to me and appreciated. I could give a course in the botany of Montana. Or at least write an article on the flora of the state. Every day, in prayer, I thank my favorite people in the world for teaching me to see and appreciate the beauty we live among. It is everywhere you look. Flowers, trees, herbs. Having the knowledge has been a wonderful addition to my life. Even if all I do is bask in their glory.
