Feeling half numb, she went to lean against the balustrade. For long moments, she didn’t dare drag her eyes away from the sinking sun as it hauled a frayed mantle of shadows over the canyon’s tortuous and deeply gouged ravines. For a brief instant, her fear that he would find his way over to her was matched only by her fear that he wouldn’t.
Description:
June 1969 - Meg Lowry, with a cadre of her friends from UC Berkley, is speeding toward Grand Canyon National Park and their very last summer break. At least she THINKS they're friends - in the first days of their final farewell to the innocence of young adulthood, she wonders whether she has ever felt more alone. Little does she know how close she stands to the brink of an all-new chapter of her life that will prominently feature one all-new character.
John Stovall is an artist of minor note and modest aspiration. His presence at the Canyon is for an entirely different reason and under drastically different circumstances. He doesn't have much interest in either establishing new or retaining old characters in his story - yet he is about to discover that, at times, one has little to say about such things.
Can two people on such dramatically different paths find their way to each other? Even when a frightening new event threatens to tear the delicate fabric of their relationship, will they accept that love - true love - can sometimes conquer all?
EXCERPT
In the instant the sun slipped below the horizon, he turned his face to look at her. Meg closed her eyes, taking a brief moment to compose herself before returning his gaze. When I look at him, she thought, everything will change. She wasn’t sure yet precisely how – only that a part of her felt pressed to hurry, while the other part deigned to prolong this liminal moment for as long as possible.
Now. Now she turned.
Plates shifted. Rivers flowed. Winds blew.
John bent toward her, and she met him in the middle of the space that had previously existed between them. His hand came up to cradle the side of her face. “Meg,” he whispered.
Then he kissed her.
His lips were yielding but firm as they pressed into hers. This kiss: every cleft and crater, every vacant space inside of her felt full of it. Behind all conscious thought, Meg pictured remaining this way for hours, even days. She was loath to break contact, because doing so might feel like a part of her was emptying. So she clung to him. She rested her hand against the side of his neck, where the muscles responsible for the movements of his head flowed into the ones accountable for the set of his shoulders. With her thumb she felt the strength of his jaw, while her fingers sifted through the hair at the nape of his neck.
John made an involuntary noise deep in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a growl. He pulled back from her for only a percentage of a second so he could angle his body toward her. As he kissed her again, he held her head firmly between both of his hands.
****
Then he was there, beside her. She closed her eyes and simply breathed, her shoulders pushed back, small hands gripping the rail.
“How are you this evening, Miss Lowry?”
She turned her face to have a better look at him. “It’s Meg.”
That smile. “Meg.” He gave an approving nod. “Am I standing too close?”
“No?” She frowned in confusion, and he softly chuckled.
“I only meant that I hope your boyfriend won’t worry about your talking to a strange man.”
“Oh. No.” She ironed the wrinkle from her forehead. “We broke up.” Without conscious forethought, she claimed joint ownership of the decision to split. She couldn’t pretend to be the spurned lover while she felt equally as freed as Rick must.
A beat of silence passed before he responded. “I’m sorry.”
She expelled a breath and squared her shoulders, affecting an air of quiet dignity. “Don’t be. I’m not.”
“You’re not sorry?”
“No. It was right that it happened. He’s just…braver than I am.”
Together they gazed silently outward. John placed his hand on the railing beside hers, and Meg felt herself pass through that interim phase between diffidence and self-assurance. Her insecurities melted away, and for reasons unclear, she was able to stand up straighter.
Her newfound confidence seemed to have captured John’s attention. After a moment, she sensed his eyes on her again. “You look at me a lot,” she said carefully, watching intently as a golden eagle tipped its wings, gliding on an eddying draught of air.
“You’re very pretty,” he replied.
She envied his ability to express such an opinion without embarrassment or regret. Her mouth quivered as she suppressed a smile.
Renae Kelleigh is originally from the Midwest but now lives in the mountains of North Carolina with her husband, dog and rabbit. Besides reading and writing, she also enjoys hiking and photography.
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