Touching the Moon Page 9

  “I see.”

  “Long ago, a Lakota shaman hiked up a mountain in search of a vision. He carried a willow’s hoop loaded with offerings. These offerings would be in exchange for the dream message he hoped to receive. Iktomi, the teacher, saw him and assumed his spider form. He spoke to the spiritual leader about life and how the decisions we make become the forces that shape our lives. And while Iktomi spoke, he took the shaman’s willow hoop and began to weave a web within it. Iktomi explained that certain influences are best ignored as we travel on our life’s path, while other influences will do us good if we pay attention to them. The trick is to know which is which. The spider spun his silk in an intricate pattern mirroring the complexity we find in life.”

  Julie nodded in the darkness.

  “As he finished, Iktomi left a small hole in the center of the weave explaining that this hole would allow the negative influences in our life to pass through and to escape our notice. The web, on the other hand, would serve to catch all the good dreams, hopes and inspirations that would help us keep to the correct life journey.”

  He was silent a moment.

  “That is the legend of the first dream catcher,” he finished. “There is one tacked to the wall behind your head.”

  They were both quiet a moment. “Are you on the right path, Gray?”

  “For certain.”

  “I think I might be on the right path too.”

  “I’m sure you are, Julie. You’re here.”

  She smiled at that. “South Dakota has been good for me.”

  It wasn’t exactly what he meant, but he didn’t correct her.

  “Gray?” she called, “Where are you? Give me your hand.”

  He reached out for her in the darkness, and she reached for him, their hands contacting halfway between them. She gave his hand a squeeze then released it. “Thanks for sharing. You share so much.”

  She rolled over to drift off to sleep. Then her eyes flew open. His hand was ice cold. She slid out of the bed and dropped her feet to the floor. With the fire nothing but a mass of gentle coals, the wooden flooring was frigid and drafty and riddled with slippery currents of arctic air.

  She looked at the large dark form nestled within the buffalo robe at her feet and queried softly into the night, “Gray?”

  He turned.

  “It’s too cold for the floor.”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, rotating back onto his side. She reached down and touched him lightly on his arm. His flannel shirt was chill to the touch.

  “I had no idea,” she said, regret coloring her words. “I had no idea that you were sleeping like this! Oh, I feel horrible. Come sleep with me in the bed.”

  He sat up slowly and turned to face her. Her teeth chattered briefly as a chill wracked her. “Can’t we just hold each other and keep each other warm? I don’t bite. And after these past days in your company, I don’t believe you do, either.”

  He rose quietly, his massive torso towering over her slender frame. He grabbed his buffalo robe and covered her thin quilt with it. He looked at her and nodded, his eyes searching, then peeled both coverings back and climbed into the bed. He took up more than half of the mattress.

  She stood there stiffly, suddenly quite aware of just how closely they’d be sandwiched together. He reached for her hand and tugged her toward the bed.

  “Come.”

  “Is there room?” she whispered.

  “There is. We’ll just be close, that’s all.”

  He continued to tug on her gently until she climbed in beside him. She moved into his arms tentatively and laid her head on his shoulder. She didn’t know what to do with the rest of herself.

  Sensing her awkwardness, he reached over and grabbed her left hand and stretched it across his chest. She let it rest where he positioned it. Then, he reached down and grabbed her left leg behind the knee and pulled it up and over his left leg so that their two bodies were tightly intertwined.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  She nodded silently, petrified to move and mortified by his touch.

  “Go to sleep now.”

  She could scarcely draw in a breath. Although he was cool to the touch when he crawled between the blankets, within minutes his body heat toasted up the bedcovers. She relaxed immediately and hummed as she snuggled closer, pulling herself more deeply into the warmth of his embrace.

  She didn’t see his smile even though it dazzled the darkness.

  The next morning, she found herself on her side completely spooned by Gray’s massive arms and legs. He had her pulled tightly into his chest, his face nestled into the nape of her neck. His deep breathing tickled her. She felt like a kitten swamped within the huge frame of a St. Bernard. Slowly she tried to disentangle herself, but her movements woke him and his arms tightened to hold her in place.

  “I like sleeping with you,” he said. “It’s nice.”

  They stared at each other briefly – eye to eye – his twinkling while hers flashed in the first signs of panic. He flipped her onto her back, rubbed his nose to hers then sprang onto the floor in one lithe, graceful leap.

  “Breakfast,” he announced. “I’ll cook. You set the table.”

  It took her a moment to adjust. She went from some fairly uncomfortable personal contact to work detail in three heartbeats. She shook her head in an effort to assess the moment. His no-nonsense, all-business attitude had her nonplussed.

  “Box pancakes is the best I can do, but I have real maple syrup.”

  “Not a bad consolation prize,” she said, recovering.

  He gave her a smug little grin and fired up the grill. He cooked. They ate. They discussed the storm. The endless snowfall had finally abated.

  “When do you think we can make it into town?”

  Gray got up and stared out of the window.

  “There’s four feet of snow out there, Julie.” He turned to her. “I don’t think we’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.”

  He watched the emotion wash over her face and added, “Of course a March snowfall is usually followed by a heavy spring rain. This will cause a quicker melt. I don’t imagine you have winters like these in Virginia?” he said, unrolling his carving tools from their leather wrap.

  “No. For sure not. And I’m not used to the isolation.”

  “You should get out and socialize. I coach a boy’s baseball team each spring. Sioux boys. We call ourselves the ‘Braves’.”

  “Fitting.”

  “We practice on the ball field opposite the veterinary office. You should stop by after work for practice and games. I could use some help.”

  She assessed his words.

  “Seriously. Think about it. You’d have some fun and get out a little more.” Julie turned abruptly to face the window. She was overcome by shame.

  Gray Walker was a good man. A very good man.

  She jumped when he touched her elbow. He handed her a buffing cloth and she dabbed her eyes. He handed her a newly carved bead.

  “It’s to polish, Julie,” he said softly.

  “Oh.”

  She looked at the cloth stupidly.

  “But salt is good for buffing,” he murmured. “It cleanses as it polishes.”

  When night settled, she asked Gray for a t-shirt. “I need something fresh for tonight,” she explained. “I just can’t stand wearing the same clothes for days and nights on end.”

  He handed her an extra-large t-shirt and moved to the sink. “Will you be warm enough?”

  “Warm enough? You’re a blast furnace. No problem there.”

  She gargled with mouthwash. It was the best she could do without a toothbrush, then climbed into bed. He joined her there, pulling her head onto his left shoulder, her arm across his chest and her leg atop his leg. He wriggled contentedly as he settled her into him.

  She glanced up at him. “You are a happy camper, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am. Right now, I consider myself the luckiest man on planet earth.” He looked at her in th
e darkness, his eyes burning brightly. He gave her a squeeze. “Good night, Julie.”

  He held her in his arms and listened to her breathing as it grew deep and slow in slumber. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in the scent of her, and tried to slow his racing heart.

  After a long time, he too relaxed, but he couldn’t fall asleep. He slowly stroked her shoulder and caressed her back, staring at the ceiling, his mind lost in thought and totally focused on the sleeping form within his embrace.

  She awoke the next morning once again wedged against his chest, his arms wrapped around her indiscriminately, his face nuzzling her neck. She tried to slip out of bed, but his arms tightened as soon as he felt her move.

  “Let me up,” she whispered.

  He pulled her close and rubbed noses. “Eskimo kiss.”

  “Nose-rubbing is kissing?”

  “Uh huh.” He smiled. “With respect and tender affection. I like you, Julie Hastings.”

  “I like you too, Gray Walker.”

  “May I see you after the snow storm?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Promise?”

  “I’ll come to your baseball games.”

  He tucked a curl back behind her left ear, his eyes drinking her in.

  “Okay,” he said quietly.

  “You have a wonderful touch.”

  “You’re not afraid?”

  “No. Not anymore.”

  “That’s good to know,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  They ate breakfast, drank coffee, made beads, fixed lunch, drank tea, told jokes, debated world politics, ate dinner and discussed the local gossip. But she felt as if she only had half of his attention.

  “Gray,” she said. “Why do you keep looking out the window? You’ve done it all day long.”

  “I’m tracking the sun.”

  “Why?”

  He pivoted his head slowly in her direction and fixed his liquid eyes upon her. A corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

  “Oh.”

  “I know you’ve been hurt,” he said quietly. “I’m very grateful that you trust me enough to let me hold you.” He rose and handed her a t-shirt. “I won’t betray that trust.”

  It started to rain that night. And it rained hard. The wind whipped and tore around the cabin ferociously. He held her tightly.

  “It’s a brutal storm,” she whispered.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Will it wash away the snow?”

  He stilled. “Probably.”

  “Might we make it into town?”

  He squeezed her tightly. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve been missing for a while now. I’m sure they are wondering why I haven’t posted at work.”

  “Where is your car?”

  “In the parking area of the state park. I drove the day I hiked, just in case I needed to get back to the office.”

  He rolled her onto her back and kissed her neck. She giggled and pushed him away.

  “They will start looking tomorrow,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “For you.”

  He kissed her lips lightly. She didn’t pull back. In fact, she nestled in closer to him.

  “The rain will make a search possible. They’ll run your tags when they realize your car has been there for the duration of the storm. Keating or one of his team does a daily cruise through the state park parking area, weather permitting. Your car would have been on the logbooks the day the storm started. They will be most distressed that it is still there almost a week later. They’ll initiate a search.”

  He found her earlobe and tugged upon it with his teeth. He couldn’t help himself. She was so inviting. She squealed and wriggled free, settling on her side, her head on his shoulder.

  He pulled back and looked at her for a moment deciding. Then he pushed her onto her back and pinned her. He found her lips and gently parted them, kissing her tenderly. He felt her body stiffen then slowly relax as she opened to the experience, and he was careful to do nothing that would cause her alarm. He kissed her slowly, deeply, hypnotically as the moon rose, large and luminous midst the storm clouds. He tasted her lips, caressed her back, ran his fingers lightly along the curves of her body. Her neck was warm, soft, delectable. He breathed deeply, squeezing her tightly, pressing his body against hers.

  “Gray,” she said, suddenly quite focused. He pulled back instantly, her scent warm within him. “I…”

  He put a finger to her lips.

  She listened to his heart hammer in his chest as he rested upon her and wondered if he could feel hers beating in syncopated rhythm. He kissed her once more, soft and chaste, then, he flipped her over like a rag-doll and spooned her, his arm encircling her waist protectively.

  “I know, Julie.”

  The next day was a day of melt. The snow had turned to thick slush and water sluiced away, trickling downhill in little rivulets. They stood out on the front porch of the cabin and surveyed the landscape. Thick chunks of snow were breaking free of Gray’s SUV exposing paint and glass to the sun. The snow, which had reached the car’s door panel, was compacted down around the tires.

  “One more day,” he said, pulling her to him. “If I’m lucky, two.” He crushed her to him in a strong hug and didn’t release her. She was tightly cocooned, his massive arms encircling her completely. Her face and arms lay flat against his chest, and she relaxed within the granite walls of his embrace. She felt like he was made of steel and stone, not flesh and bone. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Come back inside,” he said, tugging her back across the threshold and out of the wet. “I’ve made a potato-beef jerky hash.”

  “You know what?” she said, sitting down and spearing a spud. “I don’t want to eat potatoes ever again. And I don’t want to see a can of soup once more in this lifetime either.”

  He watched her, his dark eyes glinting like diamonds in the failing light. She huffed into his silence and finished her meal.

  “You think I’m spoiled,” she stated quietly.

  “No.” He paused. “Your comments come from a completely different place.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “Your words tell me that you’ve had very little of what you wanted or what you needed growing up. All I hear is your frustration. You work too hard and give too much for anyone to ever think you were spoiled.”

  She felt like he was inside her soul. “Gray,” she hesitated. “I’ve got this friendship with Dan Keating.”

  He nodded. “I know, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be part of a ball team.” She lifted her head to look at him, the corner of her mouth quirking upward. He handed her a t-shirt.

  When he finished the dishes, he slipped into bed beside her. “Having you beside me like this has been wonderful,” he whispered, “I don’t want there to be distance between us when I return you to town.”

  He kissed her softly then kissed her again, his touch exquisite in its tenderness. She thought of Dan and guilt squeezed a hot tear from the corner of her eye. He captured it with his lips.

  “Don’t deny me, Julie,” he said softly. “We’re good together. We’re good for each other.” And he held her into the dawn.

  14

  The rain pounded the snow into wet slush and the landscape was ugly and bleak. As they descended the mountain in Gray’s four-wheel drive, a growing sense of unease washed over them both but for different reasons. Julie fidgeted nervously in her seat and he glanced over at him.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m just a little unsure of things,” she replied, turning her face toward the window.

  “No need for that.” He found her hand and gave it a squeeze, but ended up needing both hands on the wheel. He released her with regret. “What are you thinking?”

  She took a while to answer him. “I’m confused.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, we’ve never even been out socially together and I’ve already slept with you – well, shared a bed.”


  “Ah.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Not in the slightest,” he said and gave her a grin. “I am perfectly content with the way things worked out.”

  “I’m—”

  “Julie,” he interrupted. “Don’t over-think this. We were caught in a blizzard. There was some forced intimacy that turned out to be a wonderful opportunity for us to get to know each other.” He paused. “Through it all, I hope I’ve earned your trust.”

  “You have.”

  “The blizzard was a good thing. I got an assistant baseball coach out of the deal.”

  “Now, wait just a minute, Gray Walker. I never committed to that. That’s a huge responsibility.”

  “Perhaps what you said got lost in translation because what I heard was a firm commitment to socialize, with me primarily and thirteen ancillary chaperones on a very regular basis.”

  “When did you hear this?”

  “Last night, in bed. I whispered the suggestion softly into your ear just as you were dozing off. You nuzzled your ‘yes’ right into the hollow of my neck.”

  “Hey, Gray,” she said softly, and glanced out the window. A very pregnant silence stretched between them as he waited for her words. “I would like to know. How did you find me on the mountain? During the blizzard?”

  She heard him take a deep breath, then exhale.

  “I have an answer,” he said. “But the telling will take some time, and now is not the right time. But, I will answer your question Julie, if you’ll just believe in me a little bit.”

  “Is it something… bad?”

  “No,” he said firmly. “This just needs a lot of explaining. Some things are like that. But, for the record though, I wasn’t stalking you. I know that it must have appeared that way, but it wasn’t the case.”

  There were a lot of official-looking vehicles in the parking lot of the state park, too many squad cars, a search and rescue team, police dogs and an ambulance. She and Gray stood on the fringes of the yellow tape, ankle-deep in wet slush.

  “My car is within the perimeter they’ve established,” she said, pointing to the red Toyota Corolla in the far corner. “And someone has removed the snow. That’s good.”

  Grey watched the activity, a worried frown on his brow while Julie jingled her car keys anxiously, not sure of how to reclaim her property. She saw Dan Keating and waved.