Summer Days

“You cold?” Annabelle asked.

“No. I’ve never been this far back in the caves. It’s a little      creepy.” It was also giving her a bit of a headache.

“Don’t worry,” Annabelle told her. “I have maps and a compass.      We won’t get lost.” She pulled two large plastic bags out of her backpack and      opened them. “The paint is a special blend. I found the recipe online. I took      what you bought and mixed it with a few ground-up, dried leaves and herbs.      Amazingly, my college studies didn’t cover how to fake cave paintings. When this      dries, it will look old. The trick is to paint in the style of the Máa-zib      women.”

She pointed to the books she’d brought. “These pictures are      samples to give you an idea. We don’t want to duplicate them exactly. That’s a      huge red flag.”

“Do you think we’re going to fool anyone?” Heidi asked, taking      the brush Annabelle offered.

“Not for long, but this is all about buying time. Unless you’ve      changed your mind?”

Heidi shook her head. “I appreciate you helping me with this.      If it all goes badly, I’ll swear it was my idea alone.”

“So only you go to prison?” Annabelle asked. “That’s so nice.      Thank you. I’m thinking the library board wouldn’t approve of my actions right      now.”

“You don’t think they’d be impressed with your skill and      ingenuity?” Heidi asked.

“I doubt they’d see it that way.”

Annabelle studied the photograph of the drawing. Heidi moved      next to her.

“The paintings tell a story,” she said. “We don’t want to get      that elaborate. See this one. It’s about surviving a difficult winter, and      here’s a series about a gathering. Probably to celebrate the harvest.”

She flipped the page, and they stared at a stick figure with an      obvious erection. “I’m not sure what this one is about, but we’ll skip over      it.”

Heidi grinned. “You have to admire their attitude.”

“Use men for sex, then send them on their way? It’s a sensible      plan. Men are nothing but trouble.”

She turned a few more pages. “We’ll do best with recreating a      nature scene, I think. Less challenging for us, and more confusing for anyone      who sees them.”

“So, trees on the mountain and maybe a basket?”

“Perfect,” Annabelle said, handing her a stick with a fuzzy      willow bud at the end.

“This is…”

“Your paintbrush.” Annabelle smiled. “The women of the Máa-zib      tribe couldn’t trot off to a craft store when they felt the need to be      creative.”

“Good point.”

Heidi dipped her stick in the paint. The liquid was thicker      than she’d expected and didn’t go on evenly, but she supposed that was the      point.

“Well, crap.” Annabelle tilted her head. “I thought I would do      some kind of marriage scene, but these women didn’t marry men.”

Heidi studied the sticklike figure of a woman. “Could you show      the guy leaving? Or being sent away.”

“That could work. As long as I don’t have to draw the      erection.” She started on a tree for background. “Men are such a pain in the      butt. Why do we want to be with them so much?”

“Biology,” Heidi said with a sigh. “We can’t escape our DNA      destiny. Women are hardwired to bond. Especially after sex.”

“That sounds interesting.”

Heidi realized she’d said a little too much. “Um, I meant in      general. I’m not talking specifically.”

“Uh-huh. I’m not sure I believe that.” She dabbed more paint on      the wall. “Loving people can be the best thing ever, and it can really suck.      Where are you on that scale with Rafe?”

Heidi felt her mouth drop open. She carefully closed it, then      studied the wall in front of her.

“I don’t love Rafe.”

“That could be a matter of timing. You’re falling for him.”

“Maybe a little. But I’m being careful.” At least, she hoped      she was. Some days it was difficult to tell. “How did you know?”

“You were angry when you found out about the houses, but you      were also hurt. It was personal, which means you had a connection.”

“You’re good,” Heidi told her.

Annabelle shrugged. “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, talk      about it.”

Heidi sighed. “I’m confused by him and what’s happening between      us.” She decided not to mention they’d slept together. “I hate having to do      this.” She pointed to the cave walls.

“Have you talked about compromise? Is that possible?”

“Rafe likes to win. That’s going to matter more than anything      else.”

“He’s also a guy who cares about the people in his life. Look      how he is with his mother. He still has a heart. Maybe you should appeal to      that.”

“I could try,” she said slowly.

“Tell you what. We’ll do the painting, but I won’t phone in the      tip until you tell me to. How’s that?”

“Perfect.”

Perhaps when you are next planning to be in the office, you can      warn me, so I can go online and view your picture. I want to be sure I remember      what you look like.

RAFE STARED AT THE SARCASTIC email from his normally      professional assistant, then logged off the internet and closed his laptop.

He was willing to admit that he’d been gone from the office      awhile. More than a while. Dante was on his back, too, trying to get him to      return to San Francisco and handle the various business deals they had in the      works. Rafe was doing what he could from Fool’s Gold, but a few things required      his presence. Or if he wasn’t willing to go in, he had to hand more      responsibility over to his partner.

Dante would be more than happy to take over the deals. There      was nothing Rafe’s lawyer friend liked more than a messy contract or difficult      negotiations. But Rafe didn’t want to step back from his business. He’d grown it      from nothing and usually enjoyed the process as much as his friend. Just not      right now.

He couldn’t explain what was different. With the barn remodel      finished, his mother had him planning a major addition to the house. He enjoyed      the manual labor more than he’d thought possible. He’d come to appreciate what      it meant to ride the land, losing himself in the quiet broken only by birds and      the thundering of his horse’s hooves. Hell, he even liked Heidi’s goats.

He crossed to the living room window and stared out at the      ranch. He had hated the idea of living in Fool’s Gold, of being surrounded by      the ghosts of his past. Now he knew there weren’t any ghosts, and the town      wasn’t responsible for what he and his family had gone through. If anything, the      people around him had done their best to make things better.

He looked past the barn, to where the development would begin,      and imagined rows of houses, tree-lined streets and cars parked at the curbs.      But it was impossible. All he could see was an old sheep and some llamas,      Heidi’s goats and a couple of Shane’s horses.

Progress demanded change, he reminded himself. With the casino      coming in, he could make a killing on those houses. The sheep would have to find      somewhere else to live.

He heard a crash from the back of the house and hurried in that      direction. He found Heidi leaning against the large table in the mudroom, her      face pale and her eyes unfocused. Several stainless-steel bowls had fallen to      the floor.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, even as he put his hand on her      forehead. She was clammy and hot at the same time.

“I feel awful,” she admitted. “The room started swimming for a      second.” She looked at the bowls. “Did I drop those?”

“You’re sick,” he told her.

She stared at him. “No, I’m fine.” She pressed a hand to her      stomach. “Okay, maybe I need to throw up.”

“Come on, goat girl. We’re going to get you into bed.”

“But I have to move the goats to another field this afternoon      and get the rest of the cheese to the cave.”

“I’ll take care of the goats and the cheese.” He put his arm      around her, helping her to the door.

She stumbled along beside him, but when they reached the      stairs, she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Lightweight,” he murmured, as he picked her up in his arms and      started up the stairs.

She shrieked and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What are      you doing?” Then she moaned. “I really feel sick, Rafe.”

“Hang on. We’re nearly there.”

He got her to the bathroom just in time. She rushed to the      toilet and dropped to her knees.

“Get out,” she yelled, waving frantically at the door, then      turned back to the toilet.

He backed out just in time.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged, looking pale and shaky. He      guided her to her bedroom, quickly stripped off her clothes and pulled her      nightgown over her head. He was aware of her soft skin, the shape of her      breasts, and his expected reaction to the sight, but ignored it all. He might      have flaws, but slobbering over a woman with the flu wasn’t one of them.

He helped her into bed.

He’d already pulled the shades and collected extra pillows. Now      he sat next to her and stroked a damp washcloth across her face.

“You’re going to have a rough couple of days,” he told her. “I      talked to my mom. She’s going into town for supplies. Ginger ale and whatever      she needs to make her famous chicken soup.” He smiled at her. “She uses rice      instead of noodles, so it’s easier to keep down.”

“I’ll be fine,” Heidi insisted, her eyes drifting closed. “Once      I don’t feel like I’m dying.”

“You’re not going to die. Try to sleep.”

“I might need to throw up again.”

“I promise not to tie up the bathroom.”

Her lips curved into a slight smile. “Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss on her cheek. “That’s what friends do for      each other.”

“Are we friends?” Her voice was low, a little sleepy and barely      audible.

“I hope so, goat girl.”

* * *

HEIDI WAS VAGUELY AWARE of the passage      of time, mostly because sometimes it was dark outside her window and sometimes      it was light. She spent the first twenty-four hours puking her guts out and      wishing she were dead, and the next twenty-four fighting a fever and wishing she      were dead. Sometime after that, she slept for what felt like three weeks.

She knew people were coming and going, that a person she didn’t      know examined her and proclaimed that, yes, she had the flu and to keep her      hydrated. Then she slept some more.

Through it all, she was aware of Rafe. May and Glen took turns      at her bedside, but mostly there was Rafe’s strong presence. She felt him wiping      her down with a cool cloth and sometimes holding her hand. He’d brought in a TV      and tuned it to the Home and Garden channel. One night she woke up to find him      next to her in her bed. He was fully dressed, on top of the covers, his arm      around her. She’d been surprised but comforted, and had snuggled close before      going back to sleep.