Page 35 of Grown-Up Second Chance

A hand touched my thigh briefly.

“Art can be deeply personal,” Joe said. “Sometimes it’s easier to share it with strangers than your family.”

“Thank you for understanding,” Liz said.

“Well, I don’t,” I said. “And I don’t think Kathleen does either.”

“Why don’t we let it be for now,” Joe said. “And enjoy this wonderful meal.” He glanced out the window and grinned. “Even Old Faithful says we have better things to do.” Outside our window, the geyser shot into the skies.

“It must be awesome at night with the lights shining on it,” Liz said.

“It’s still pretty spectacular now,” I said. It didn’t matter that we’d just seen it a few hours before. I’d never get past seeing what nature had to offer, from the thundering falls in Yosemite, to the first shooting stars blooming in a Rocky Mountain spring.

Once the show was over, I steered our conversation to other topics. Joe was right. It was up to Liz to decide what she wanted to reveal and what she didn’t.

But I was damn curious as to what she was hiding.

~ ~ ~

Once we finished our dinner, we wandered over to the gift store. Without a lot of room, our window shopping was more practical than it would have been. I picked up a T-shirt with an image of Old Faithful. We stopped at the Monopoly game and debated about buying it.

“It brings back a lot of memories,” Kathleen said. “You were always the banker,” she said to me.

“And Liz always won.”

“That’s because she cheated.”

“Did not,” Liz said. “I just, um, improvised.”

“Rules were a suggestion for her,” I told Joe.

“But it’s not going to be the same without Park Place and Boardwalk,” Kathleen said.

“Or without the boot,” I said.

“Or the iron,” Liz agreed.

We moved on to the posters and artwork they had for sale, including some small woven baskets and prints by Native Americans. A simple, but striking piece caught my eye. It depicted a winter scene on a blank background, the images almost skeletal in their rendering. The colors were striking, especially the blues against all that white.

“It’s quite amazing, isn’t it?” Joe said. “I’ve seen his work before.”

I nodded. Something about it drew me in. I could feel the wind dancing along the Rocky Mountain Front, sense myself connecting to the earth and nature all around the figures in the print. It took speech from me and replaced it with the spirit of something greater than myself.

Joe let me be, but stood beside me, protecting me from those who would penetrate the space I occupied.

Awareness returned, and I reluctantly left the painting. Kathleen was over by the bookshelf, and I walked toward her, ready to break the spell of whatever I’d been under.

She’d already picked up three books: one by C.J. Box, another by Craig Johnson, and a third by James Lee Burke.

“God, you’re bloodthirsty,” I said.

“What? You expect me to read trashy romance novels?”

“I suppose not. You never were one for the tales of princes and rich businessmen.”

“It’s not real. Marriage is a life-long endeavor, not some silly chase and catch game. Besides, they promise things that never happen.”

There was a bitterness in her tone that surprised me. I’d always thought she and Michael had been happy right up to the end, but my faith in that certainty was dimming. I left her to her tales of mayhem and drifted to the cozy mysteries. Joe was studying the non-fiction section.

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