Work of Art ~ the Collection (52 page)

I become aware of a soft scratching sound and the crackle of the fire. I slowly open my eyes.

Max is sitting across from me with his sketchpad in his lap. He’s drawing, but with an intensity I don’t recognize. He studies my hands gently folded in my lap before focusing on his work again.

The next time he looks over, he meets my gaze.

Busted.

Embarrassed, he quietly closes his book and smiles. “Did you have a nice nap?”

I stretch my arms up as I yawn. “Mmm, yes. Did it go okay at the gallery? You weren’t gone that long.”

He shrugs, looking pleased. “Long enough, and yeah, the meeting was good.” He stands, moves out to the balcony, and looks at the view.

I like watching him move. There’s sureness in his step and the way he stands—his broad shoulders the perfect apostrophe to my question mark.

Can he imagine what I’m thinking as I watch him? I know it’s not right to sit here curled up in
his
hotel room and ogle my good friend in a salacious way. But
damn him
for the way he fills up his jeans. And
damn him
for the way his profile catches the sun and makes my heart hurt for the sheer beauty of it all.

I rise from the chair and join him on the balcony. The fresh air is startling. My Los Angeles lungs hardly know how to respond, so I take a deep breath to remind them.

“It’s so beautiful here. I want to take a long walk tomorrow.”

“Why don’t you come to Bandelier?”

“Aren’t you doing a major hike or something? I don’t think I’d be up for that. Besides, I should help Brian set up at some point.”

“Well, don’t decide now—see how you feel in the morning. How about we go into town and walk around the plaza until dinner?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

We grab our jackets and head out the door.

Once in the plaza, we slip into a little family-owned pastry shop to get a coffee. Afterward, we wander around all the galleries, charming shops, and cafés. There’s an artistic aesthetic everywhere you turn. I’m already infatuated with Santa Fe, and I suspect that the feeling could blossom into love before my trip is over.

As six-thirty rolls around, we meet the group at the restaurant. Dylan’s reserved a large table inside and he, Joe, Xio, and Mia all join us. We’ve grown to a large, lively group. In the shuffle of sitting down, I end up across the table from Max and next to Dylan and Jess.

The conversation opens with a lot of speculation about business, but eventually shifts to travel disaster stories prompted by Joe and Xio’s almost missing their flight today. As we laugh and talk over each other, I notice Max watching me. He smiles warmly every time I look his way.

Before we part for the night, Max makes one last play for Bandelier, and Brian overhears.

“You should go, Ava. I’ve been there and I love the whole feeling. Have you heard of the cliff dwellings? You’ve gotta climb up into one of those.”

Max grins. “See, you really should come.”

“But what about the booth? Don’t you need my help?” I ask Brian.

“No, the freight company is uncrating and unwrapping the art. So I’ll only have to hang the work, and we only brought fifteen paintings.”

Dylan jumps in. “I can help him, Ava. Go to Bandelier.”

I smile at Max. “It looks like I’m going with you.”

He looks pleased, and I can almost see the wheels spinning in his head. “All right! Make sure you eat a good breakfast, and meet me in the lobby at nine sharp. Oh, and bring something to write with. I’m bringing my sketch pad.”

“Yes sir!” I laugh.

After we get back to the Lodge, I retrieve my bags and head over to Michelle’s room. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’d rather stay with Max. But I’ll see him again in just over ten hours, and I feel a surge of excitement as I wonder what the day will hold.

When I arrive in the lobby at nine the next morning, Max is waiting. He’s wearing cargo shorts, hiking shoes, and a jacket over his T-shirt. He also has a backpack and wet hair from his shower.

“You know, I hadn’t planned on hiking, so this was the best I could do,” I comment, as I wave over my outfit of jeans, sneakers, tank top and hoodie.

“That’s fine. I’ve downgraded the hike, since I don’t want to wear you out on your first full day here.” He winks.

“Oh, so now you’re downgrading,” I tease, as I push him gently away.

“Yes, downgrading
the hike
. . . but your coming is an upgrade. Let’s hit the road.” His enthusiasm’s contagious as we go outside to his car.

It takes about an hour to get there, park, and go through the visitor center to get our maps. When we find the trailhead, I’m happy that so few people are around. Wandering through nature is the antithesis of the L.A. experience, and it’s a treat not having the distraction a lot of other tourists.

Other than the occasional whisper of wind through the towering pine trees, the silence is deafening. We walk quietly, taking it all in. There are unusual rock formations, due to prehistoric volcanic activity, rustic vegetation, and signs of wildlife.

We start the main trek and turn onto the Ceremonial Cave Trail, which takes us to the remains of an ancient pueblo, before circling back toward the cliff dwellings for which the park is famous. From a distance, they look like holes blown out of the rock walls about twenty feet off the ground. But, as you get closer, you realize that the holes are entrances or windows to rooms that have been literally been formed by volcanic pockets in the mountains. Hand-hewed ladders lead up into the primitive homes.

When we get to the first cliff dwelling, Max pushes me toward the ladder. “Up you go, girlie.”

“Yeah, yeah . . . you want me to go first so you can look at my ass.”

“And you have a problem with that?” he teases.

“I guess not, since I have such a great ass.”

“You won’t get any complaints from me. Your ass is a thing of beauty.”

I wiggle my rear on the way up for his benefit.

“Get it, girl!” he calls, laughing.

At the top of the ladder, I crawl into the room that was formed out of the mountain. Max follows.

“People really lived in here?” I ask, marveling at it. It feels like someone took a sharp spoon and carved out the center of a stone. You’re completely surrounded by nothing but shale rock and the air and light that passes through the ragged openings. It’s so organic I feel like I’m part of the earth as I sit on the cold stone floor.

“Yeah, they were safe from predators up here.” He rubs his hands over places people have carved their names and declarations of love on the walls.

I skim my fingers across the stone floor and pick up a loose piece of shale. I hold it up to examine it. “My mom would’ve loved this place. We used to collect rocks together when I was little.”

Max looks over, his eyes wide with surprise. “You never mention your mom . . . well, except the times I’ve run my fingers through your hair.”

“I try not to think of her.”

“Can I ask you about her?”

It’s probably time to share this piece of my life with Max. “Yeah.”

“So you really don’t know if she’s alive or not? What happened?”

I let out a long sigh. “It all started after my dad died; my mom fell apart. They adored each other and relied on each other for everything, and she just didn’t know how to go on without him. For months, I had to do all the cleaning, cooking, and shopping just to keep our house and our lives together. Luckily, he had life insurance, so there was money to pay the bills, but she wouldn’t get out of bed. After about six months, a friend of hers insisted Mom get out of the house. They would hang at this country-western club. That’s where she met Russ.

“Russ was as different from my dad as he could be. He was very charming and outgoing, but also wild and irresponsible. In a matter of months, my mom was involved with him. At first she was really happy, but then things started to change. It wasn’t until later that I realized that he got her into drugs, and soon they were partying all the time and burning through the insurance money. By then, I was in my senior year of high school, taking three AP classes and working a part-time job.

“I was so busy that I didn’t realize how bad things were getting. I guess when the money was gone, they got into some major trouble, and then her car was set on fire in the middle of the night. After that, we started getting weird phone calls. One day, I came home from school and she was gone.”

Max pulls back and frowns. “Gone?”

“Yes, she had taken some clothes, but that was about it. She just vanished. About three weeks later, I got a letter that had been mailed from Mexico. In the letter she said she was sorry and that she loved me with all her heart, but right now it was too dangerous for me to be around her. If something happened to me, she wouldn’t be able to go on. And that was it. She didn’t explain how I was supposed to go on, how I was going to keep living in the house or anything. I mean hell, I was almost eighteen, but I didn’t have a clue how to survive on my own.

“I was a basket case and too afraid to tell anyone, so I pretended that nothing had changed until the bank finally put a notice of eviction on the front door.

“One of Mom’s girlfriends told me she’d heard Mom was in L.A. So, I packed up the car with what I could fit and left some other things with a friend. The day I got in my car and drove away from my house, the only home I’d ever known, and knowing what I’d lost was well . . . you can imagine . . .”

Max’s jaw twitches as his fingers curl into tight fists, and I take some silent satisfaction in his anger, because what she did was unforgivable.

“Showing up in L.A. with no money and not knowing anyone was the most terrifying thing I’d ever done. I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to find her here. The few leads I had amounted to nothing, and as each day passed, I lost hope that I would see her again. During all of this, I got a job at a coffeehouse, but it was so expensive here that I had to live out of my car for a while. It was so humiliating. But it was at that job that I met Brian. He was a regular customer and so sweet. About that time, they needed extra help around the gallery, and he convinced Adam to hire me. If it hadn’t been for that family, I don’t know where I’d be now.”

Max’s mouth hangs open. There’s a profound look of sadness in his dark eyes. “So, that’s why they’re so protective of you.”

“Yes. They all met me at my lowest point, and sometimes I think they don’t fully realize how strong I am now and how much their help strengthened me.”

Max rubs his hands roughly over his face. “Damn, Ava. I had no idea. I can’t believe what you’ve gone through.”

I let the shale fall from my grasp, and I brush my hand over my jeans. “I wish like hell I hadn’t gone through it, and I fear I’ll never know what happened to her.”

“Maybe not. But look at what you’ve overcome and accomplished: college, a career . . . you’ve made a good life for yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’ve made some bad choices,” I say, as Jonathan intrudes into my thoughts.

Max gives me a stern look. “Stop that. I think you’re amazing and I’m proud of you.”

I give him a small smile as we spend a moment taking in the view from the elevated point before heading back down the ladder.

After hiking a while more, Max asks if I’m hungry. When I nod, he pulls out an insulated bag with a lunch that he had the hotel pack. We find a picnic area nearby, and I lay out the cloth napkins before we spread our feast on the worn table. I wonder what his day would’ve been like if he had come alone as originally planned. Of course, he would’ve taken a much longer hike, but I flatter myself by imagining he’s having a much better time with me here.

I glance at him. “Are you glad I came? I mean, you don’t regret me slowing you down?”

He flashes his gorgeous smile. “Are you kidding? I’m so glad you’re here.”

We slowly eat, savoring the quiet easiness of the afternoon. After we’ve cleaned up, he takes out his sketchbook and my journal from his backpack, and we wander further down the trail until we find a spot that’s inspiring. There’s a patch of wild grass, and I sink down into the cool softness before I open my journal and let my thoughts tumble onto the blank pages. I write without rereading or editing, just allowing my emotions to take me wherever my muse wants to go.

Max looks equally inspired as he studies a small grove of trees lit dramatically by a shaft of light cutting through the nearby chasm in the rocks. He works with a loose quick hand and doesn’t speak while he draws. The quiet tenor between us could be awkward, but it’s strangely comforting instead. We’ve passed the litmus test of true friendship, and I smile about how far we’ve come.

When it’s finally time to move on, Max wants to see one more cliff dwelling before we leave. We continue down the path until we find the last one on the map. This ancient home is higher up the cliff, so we brave the tall ladder and are rewarded with a spectacular view of the entire valley.

We scoot on our butts to the rear wall, lean back with our feet stretched in front of us and we take it all in.

“Ahh,” I sigh before taking a deep breath. “This is just what I needed today.” I stretch my arms out. “Even though I haven’t been able to get my mind off the mess with Jonathan . . . something about this place gives me hope that things can be better.”