Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) (27 page)

“OK, I sure will. Say hi to Rex.”

“Yes, hon, I will. Bye now.”

She hung up, barely giving me a chance to say good-bye back. I hung up the phone and checked the rest of the messages.

Grape Expectations
had called as well to follow up with their instructions for the Oregon assignment. I felt a bit apprehensive. I didn’t know this magazine well; however, I knew their reputation for being one of the toughest wine reviewers in the nation, employing master winemakers and international sommeliers ruthless in making or breaking a name. Fancy how they’d ask a novice like me to contribute an article.

And that is exactly what they told me over the phone when I returned the call. In a scholarly British accent, the
voice
said that, despite my inexperience, they would like me to submit a piece. The editor in chief, tired of reserve and vintage opinions, had expressed the wish for a
vino novello
, as we say back home—a young wine. Would it be possible for me to be ready in two to three weeks? Of course, I answered as my brain translated the conversation to: None of those
vintages
could bother traveling to the Northwest to discover grape pioneers making great wines in a region that has all the qualities, if not more, of some of the best wine producers of the world.
Just give them time.

I told the posh voice on the phone I would do it.

“Excellent,” he replied. “We’ll be in touch.”

I hung up with a lingering feeling that the voice sounded somewhat familiar, but I shook it off.

Gabe walked into the living room and we decided to go enjoy the sunset at the beach. We drove fast across bridges, against evening traffic, and made it to Perdido Key Beach with a few minutes to spare. We parked in the main parking lot and found a secluded spot on the beach among virgin dunes and salty mist. The sand, warm with the day’s heat, massaged the bottoms of my bare feet.

Gabe laid out a blanket. In silence we held each other and watched the sun go down, stroking the sky with confident swirls of purples and blazing oranges. Everything around us held its breath.

“It must feel incredible to be the horizon,” I whispered.

“You mean to receive the sun at the end of every day?”

“I mean to be worthy of such an honor.” I turned to face him. I raised my right hand to caress his jawline.

“That’s how I feel when we make love, Gabe,” I told him. “I feel like the horizon welcoming the sun.”

“I can’t bloody believe you just said that,” he whispered.

I looked straight into his candid eyes and showed him my soul.

This love was to know no boundaries, no limits. I shed my veils of defense and allowed Gabe to reach me completely. I unburdened my soul and, with my eyes, I offered it to him with my hopes for our future surging like a high tide.

The sun faded away. A cool breeze stirred, creeping up from the eastern sky, already dark and fast spreading to herald the arrival of evening.

O
ur last day together.

We had fallen asleep on the sofa where, alone with miserable thoughts as my only companions, I wondered what had awakened me. It must have been the sound of water running in the bathroom. My brain didn’t want to think. It was like trying to hold back an avalanche. The past week had been heavenly; I didn’t want it to come to an end. Not quite yet. Hell, not ever. But Gabe’s bag, packed and stowed by the door, heralded a different end to this chapter.

Why in the world was I even considering dipping the quill of my thoughts into the vivid ink to write of what my life might be like if distance weren’t an issue? I mean, what if Gabe lived
here
? Not even with me, necessarily, but close enough so we could do this anytime.

I wondered if I could live in Australia. Then I realized we hadn’t even talked about it. So why even consider it?
Because I was in love.

How could a flower not bloom? Imagine this seed of love tucked in warm soil, feeding slowly on water and energy. In the darkness, life stirs; from the downward-curled fetal position, the tender head of unborn foliage straightens itself on a fragile stem and breaks through compact dirt. It’s impossible to defy nature. To not go ahead and live? Absolutely impossible!

My own Dreamtime had begun.

The shower was silent. Gabe walked out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a white towel wrapped around his hips. With another towel he was drying his hair and almost walked into me as I reached the door.

“G’day, luv,” he said, bending to kiss my forehead. Drops of water still clung to his chest. I wondered if he’d mind if I licked every one of them off.

“I’m going to jump in the shower myself.” I looked over my shoulder to smile at him as I closed the bathroom door behind me with every intention of taking a long shower and shedding all my tears, but decided I wasn’t going to waste precious time like that. If I needed to cry, I would do it later, after he had left that evening.

I stepped out of the bathroom with my robe on and my hair in a towel. The delicious aroma of eggs and something else sizzling tickled my nostrils. Freshly brewed coffee was in the mix too. I walked into the kitchen.

Gabe handed me a small espresso cup. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve made us breakfast.”

“Mind?” I laughed, taking a sip of the hot coffee.

“I’ve used up the rest of your prosciutto with the eggs.” He handed me a plate with toast and sunny-side-up eggs on a bed of pan-fried prosciutto.

I sat down at the well-laid table, a carafe of orange juice in front of me, and waited for him to join me with his plate.

“Thanks,” I said, pouring us juice.

“No worries.” He took the glass I handed him.

We ate, talking and making plans for the day. I wanted to take it easy and not do too much. He wanted to pack a picnic, go to the beach, and spend the day in the sun. He reminded me that back home it was still winter, and I gave in. He told me he could rest on the plane, making a point to comment that he wouldn’t be able to sleep without me.

We cleaned up the kitchen, packed a light lunch, and headed downstairs to the car. The morning was refreshingly crisp. After the rain of the day before, the humidity hadn’t had a chance to thicken yet. We admired the oleander for a few moments on our way out to make sure it was OK. It seemed to be doing fine. The few blooms it had possessed we had sprinkled along the highway, but I had no doubt it would bloom stronger and fuller than ever once it settled in.

We had a blast of a day. Besides a pair of cut-off denim shorts, I wore only my yellow bikini and almost lost my top a few times as I pretended to be a mermaid and frolicked in strong, agitated waves. Gabe couldn’t believe how warm and clear the water was, even when the tide rolled in, threatening our sprawled junk: towels, suntan lotion, bottles of water, a Frisbee, and a picnic basket. He finally dragged me out of the ocean, literally pulling me away from the waves by my braided hair. What can I say? I just love to swim and play in the sea.

I joined him by the towels, grinning and dripping wet. I felt deliciously fresh against the blazing midday sun. “I want to be a mermaid in my next life.” I laid on my towel inches away from his face and noticed his nose was beginning to burn. I reached for the sun lotion, squirted some on my fingertips, and massaged his face gently.

“Mermaid.” He closed his eyes as I spread the leftover lotion onto his forehead and then down his neck. “Is that your favorite fairy tale?”

My eyes pierced him. “You don’t forget a thing.”

“You’d give up those gorgeous toes?”

“Maybe,” I told him. I shifted on my back to lie down on my towel. The sun felt great against my cool, wet skin. “But that’s not my favorite tale.”

“Your bathing suit’s sheer, luv,” Gabe said in a breath. Against the blazing sun I slit my eyes open and stared down my chin to my chest. My breasts were up at full attention against the thin yellow material of my bikini top. The outline of my nipples was totally visible. I looked around us; we were alone for miles. I rested my head back on the towel.

“If I were home, I wouldn’t even bother with it.”

Gabe gave no answer.

I relaxed. With my eyes closed, I tilted my nose up in the air. My lips tingled with salt drying on my sensitive skin. I was too lazy and comfortable to reach for lip balm in the beach tote. I thought of asking Gabe but . . .

No movement. No stirring. No breathing. No sign of . . . anything.
Perhaps he’s asleep,
I thought, opening my eyes and turning my head to look at him. Suddenly a cold chill ran the length of my spine. A shadow shielded the sun from my still-wet body; I needed the sun back to warm me up. Gabe was no longer lying on his towel. He had quickly and silently shifted on top of me, bracing himself on his hands and knees with the sun a glowing aura behind his solid frame.

It took my breath away.

I swallowed hard. “You scared me,” I told him once I was able to talk again.
How in the world did he do it? What kind of life teaches you to move at the speed of light?

“Didn’t mean to.” He lowered his sun-warmed body against mine. And the dripping meltness of a burning candle hit the coldness of a marble slab. Only this marble slab molded itself to welcome the heat radiating from Gabe’s body.

We lay there for the longest time. The sunrays hit Gabe’s back and through him they reached me slowly, not as intense, but still hot and soothing, tinged with my lover’s energy. It warmed me up, not only with heat but with passion as well. My emotional batteries slowly charged up with his love, to keep me from cold and solitude in the days to come. It was an incredible feeling I had never experienced before.

Not in this lifetime, for sure.

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“So fast and silently and yet your movements are of such a frugal nature.”

“You should have felt it. I blocked your sun.”

“Actually, that’s
all
I felt, just a drop in the temperature.”

“Cooler, roight?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I asked.” I looked straight into his eyes. “That’s not the first time you’ve done it.”

He was so close I noticed his eyelashes fading from dark brown into blonder tips. His crystal blue eyes stared right back at me for what seemed like an eternity. “It won’t be the last either.” He lowered his head to brush my lips.

“So how do you do it?” I whispered against the softness of his mouth. My eyes never left his.

“Salty.”

“Pardon?”

“Your mouth is salty.”

“I bet I’m salty everywhere,” I teased.

“Close your eyes.”

“What for?”

“It won’t feel the same if you keep them open.”

The mere brush of a feather was all I felt at first. I struggled to keep my eyes closed and concentrate on the lightest shift of heat to follow his movements. On my neck at first, he barely caressed the moist skin with the tip of his tongue. My skin rose to respond, my breath quickened in anticipation, and red swirls spiraled behind my shut eyelids. A trail of warm sand tickled the inside of my right wrist and softly rained all the way up to the tender spot where the elbow bent. It felt warm and grainy and left me totally unprepared for what followed next. His lips closed in on the tip of my left breast, sucking slowly through thin, wet cloth, the warmth of his lips a definite contrast against the coldness of the fabric covering my nipple. Soon it all melted into a heated throb of pleasure as my breast responded to the teasing and blood rushed to answer. Involuntarily, I parted my mouth and moaned, only to be silenced by his firm finger on my parted lips.

I licked his fingertip lightly, tasting salt. I closed my lips around it, sucking deeper. As if on cue he bit the swollen tip of my breast and dipped a finger under my bikini bottom, stroking through my wetness ever so slowly. So entwined in the heated pleasure building up I barely heard him whisper, “Look at you.”

My eyes slit open, and I was suddenly blinded by the intense sunlight. Tears streamed down as I made an effort to adjust my eyes to the brightness. Gabe stretched next to me, supporting my head in the bend of his elbow while his other hand disappeared under the triangle of my bikini bottom. The veins streaking his wrist moved with the rhythm of his fingers stroking me until, almost hypnotized, I arched my hips to meet his touch. Quickening the pace, I rubbed myself against his finger, climbing, building up. I held my breath and covered his hand with mine, pushing his fingers to thicken the intensity of my rising climax. When light burst all around me, I threw my head backwards and called his name, breathless.

His mouth plunged into mine, feeding off the ecstasy I was exhaling.

I held on to him as my breath calmed.

*

Much later a shift in the breeze and lengthening shadows told us it was time to head back.

We packed our stuff and drove back home. Gabe fell into a silent mood, not much different than mine. We gnawed at the same thought: his plane left in less than four hours.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, sounding like my mother.
Food: her universal answer to every ailment.

“No, luv. Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll want anything before I go.”

His preoccupied look told me he was already distancing himself. I recognized that look. It appears on my own features on the threshold of every imminent departure. Half the mind is already there at the destination.

I left him to finish with his luggage and jumped in the shower to wash away the salty patina the ocean foam had left on me. My skin came alive under the invigorating shower jet. A slight sunburn blushed between my breasts, and I took care not to scrub myself too harshly. I was about to suds up my hair when the bathroom door opened, and Gabe asked if I would mind if he joined me. I slid my hand past the shower door and beckoned him with a crooked finger. Without words I handed him the shampoo and turned so he could wash my hair. I closed my eyes and relaxed. His hands worked the scented shampoo into lather; his strong fingers massaged my scalp soothingly, relaxing me. He turned me to face him. My body pressed against his while both his hands worked slowly through my hair. He cupped my face and bent to kiss me, getting his own hair all wet. I took the bottle of shampoo and, just as silently, washed his hair, combing my fingers through its smooth silkiness, wiping his eyebrow of lather. I caught his eyes watching me. I returned his stare until he closed his eyes. He threw his head back under the shower jet, rinsing off the shampoo. I watched, mesmerized; the streaks of foam ran along his wet body, tracing every muscle, defining his shape only to disappear finally down the drain. I pressed myself against him and felt his hands wrap around me, holding me tight. Water drenched us. It cleansed us, drowning the world outside.

We took turns drying each other. Our mood shifted; this was our last chance to imprint our memories, like reading a classical poem for the very first time, absorbing every profound line.

Wrapped in towels, we walked back into the bedroom hand in hand. There we sat on the bed with his bag nearby, a symbol, an arrow aloft, a separation foretold. I closed my eyes, rested my head against his chest, and tried to forget about time.

“Luv, we need to get going.”

“OK.” Mechanically, I walked to the closet and found a dress to wear. As if on autopilot, I grabbed panties, a bra, and sandals and got dressed.

He wore a black T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. He’d gotten so tanned in such a few days it was amazing. Then I caught my own reflection in the mirror and noticed I was just as dark. I managed to manifest a smile, a rainbow during a downpour. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll get the keys.” I reached for my bag, turned, and realized I was alone. “Gabe?” I called.

No answer.

My heart stopped, and for an instant I wondered if I might have dreamt the whole week with him.

I blinked. And stood there, incapable. I found myself devoid of will, vaguely aware of missing something but for the love of God couldn’t recall what.

As if awaking from a coma, with inadequate control of my limbs, hoping my brain functions would eventually kick into gear and follow, I walked into the living room where silence met me.

Then the sliding door’s drapes swelled in the light breeze, and I saw him out on the deck. His bag lay abandoned on the sofa.

I walked to the door and saw that he had Peridot in his arms. He was quietly whispering something that my cat must have found seriously interesting. Peridot was all ears.

“. . . Roight, mate?”

Peridot nodded, blinked agreement, and then turned, giving me away. His pupils shifted from perfect rounds to pinhead-size.

“What’s going on?” I asked. They both looked like I had interrupted some sort of male-bonding moment.

“Just telling him to take care of you while I’m gone,” Gabe said, handing me my cat. Peridot looked at me with new interest, as if suddenly I had turned into a precious commodity he’d never considered of value before.

“Thanks.”