Beauty of the Wood

"Dara, it's storming in case you haven't noticed," her father said from behind her.

"Chase is out there," she shouted back over the wind as she wiped rivulets of water out of her eyes.

"Where?"

Dara pointed and her father followed the gesture. He cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a booming whoop to provide some additional guidance in the limited visibility.

About twenty feet away, Chase paddled hard to reach the landing.

"Throw me the rope and hang on," Paul yelled to the younger man.

Chase slid his paddle into the bottom of the canoe and tossed the rope. Between the wind and the craft trying to drift back out into the lake, he missed his mark. The wet rope smacked painfully against Dara's arm, but she closed her hands around it, nearly getting pulled into the lake in the process.

Her father's powerful hands grabbed the rope from her and steadied her at the same time. Muscles bunching, he pulled the canoe up and onto the shore a remarkable distance. When Chase scrambled to climb out, Dara held out her hand to help him. As soon as he was out, her father dragged the canoe the rest of the way up onto the bank.

"I'll tie this off. Get up to camp," Paul instructed.

The two hurried up the already slippery trail that was developing into a stream, somewhat protected from the elements by the foliage. Within the camp, the storm was still very much evident, but nowhere near as severe as what they'd experienced.

Dara ran to the shelter of a dining fly her father had erected upon smelling the weather coming and confirming his own well-tuned senses with his mate, who knew anything happening in the natural world with absolute accuracy. Hot on her heels, Chase slipped a little as he stopped next to her.

"Are you okay?" she asked while pulling soaked strands of hair out of her face and wiping droplets off her nose.

"A little winded, but yeah."

"Trying to drown or electrocute yourself?" Paul scolded as he joined them to shake water out of his hair and beard.

Chase winced. "I wasn't paying enough attention. Thought I had enough time when I finally noticed and hit the water."

"You should know better than that. A storm out here is nothing to take lightly. But, at least you had the sense to head for cover."

The fly was imperfect shelter at best. The ground was sodden except in the dead center, and rain still pattered against Dara's legs. It did keep the rain off her upper body and blocked some of the wind, though.

Dara sat down on one of the logs under the fly and turned to look out into the driving rain when she took notice of the way Chase's shirt was clinging to his muscular chest. She felt silly for sitting down where more rain could get to her, but stubbornly refused to stand back up, thus acknowledging the mistake. A moment later, she glanced down at her own clothing. Soaked through, her shorts and top were all but transparent, clearly showing the blue bikini she had on beneath.

Though relieved — and rationalizing that as a nudist, this was the least of what he regularly saw — she still felt a little twinge of irritation that he didn't seem to have noticed.

Chase let out a little hiss, and when she glanced his way, she saw him favoring his injured ankle. "Did you stress it again?"

"Nothing bad. Just pulled a little when I slipped."

She stood up and told him, "Sit down and let me look at it."

Ignoring that she was squatting with one knee in the mud, she pulled off his shoe and sock. Manipulating his foot caused him to wince, but not cry out. There was no swelling or redness, and the range of motion was reasonable.

"You don't seem that much worse for wear," she declared as she looked up, and her gaze entwined with his.

There was a wistful look in his eyes, and a smile on his face. Even though her sodden top had drooped to reveal cleavage and her bikini top, his eyes were locked with hers, and not on that obvious distraction.

"Thanks for taking a look," he said. "Just something I'll have to watch until it completely heals."

"Think this is going to blow by pretty quickly," Paul said, breaking the tension that his daughter felt as she stood up.

"Hope it hasn't blown my camp away with it when it does," Chase commented as he pulled his sock back on.

Dara lifted her bent knee and held it under a stream of water running down from the corner of the rain fly, washing away the mud there. It was as much to face away from Chase as anything else, though. This was yet another moment, and each one was making it more difficult to ignore.

Her emotions had obviously made a decision without any input from her. The initial attraction was there, just waiting for her to look deeper, to see if there was more.

Even though she knew better, she wasn't so sure that her heart was going to listen.

The rain picked up as the center of the storm rolled over them, steadily forcing all three toward the center of the fly. Even then, they were all getting soaked. Dry shelter was only a few feet away in the form of the two tents, but that would have meant having to dry out bedding and the tents later before bed.

Dara shivered as her soaked clothing and the wind chilled her. In unspoken coordination, her father and Chase both moved on either side of her, doing what little they could to block the wind and provide a little warmth.

Thunder boomed, and the wind whirled through the trees, making canvas thrum. Huddled together, Dara was very much conscious of Chase standing next to her. The limited conversation was almost entirely based upon the storm, as it was hard to think about anything else as the worst of it pounded the region.

"Think I see some light," Paul remarked as the rain slacked off. "Sun comes back out like it was, and the air will be so thick you can cut it with a knife."

Her father's prediction proved all too true. As the rain fizzled, the wind died down, and the sun reappeared from behind the clouds, the temperature rapidly spiked. Dara went from shivering to sweating in a matter of minutes.

Chase fanned his face and said, "I'd better go check my stuff. It's in a water-proof bag, but that's not going to help if it blew out of the canoe and is floating across the lake."

"Even less if both canoes are floating with it. Better head on down there," Paul agreed.

Negotiating the slippery path strewn with freshly fallen leaves and branches, Dara followed her father down to the shore. Fortunately, both canoes and their contents had ridden out the storm.

"Holy moley," Chase remarked as he stood up from checking the contents of his pack. He was in the full light of the sun, and absolutely dripping with sweat that had nowhere to go but down in the saturated air. He grinned and said, "Not like I can get any wetter."

With that, he spread his arms wide, gave a little hop, and splashed down hard into the water.

Dara cried out and jumped back, barely avoiding the splash. "Watch it," she mock-scolded him when he bobbed back to the surface.

"Oh, okay. I'll watch," he said as he cupped both hands in front of him and targeted her.

Dripping from his splash, Dara exclaimed, "Ooo! You..." Then she lashed out with a kick at the water, though he easily dodged the splash.

"Going to have to try harder than that," Chase taunted and then laughed.

Try again she did — and a little too hard. Though her kick-splash connected this time, she lost her balance. A quick grab caught the end of a limb hanging down over the water. It supported her for a few tantalizing moments, then with a tiny crack, deposited her — screaming — into the water.

Caught up in the feeling, all too similar to the play around her mother's pool, Dara lashed out with a double-handed splash of her own as soon as she surfaced. After so long pent up, displaying a professional front and studying, the release felt wonderful. The war went on for several seconds while her father chuckled, rolled his eyes, and escaped up to the safety of the camp.

Finally, they both connected with splashes that hit each other full in the face, and peace reigned while they sputtered amidst infectious laughter. As Dara cleared her eyes, she saw a canoe moving toward the camp.

Chase turned around, following her line of sight just as she realized who it was. Chase's father narrowed his eyes, then turned his head to look away while slamming his paddle into a j-stroke that turned the canoe back the way it came.

"Dad," Chase called out. When his father ignored him and dipped his paddle to continue the retreat, the younger man's shoulders slumped.

"Chase... I..." Not knowing what to say, she laid a hand on his arm.

He flinched away.

"Chase?"

"I... I need to go," he said without turning around to face her.

Dara swam up to the bank behind him, but he still avoided eye contact as he climbed out and straight into his canoe.

"We're here if you need us," Dara tried one last time as he untied the rope and pushed the craft out into the water.

"Thanks," he answered, barely audible.

Tears welling up in her eyes, she watched him paddle slowly toward the far shore.

****

The mood in camp for the rest of the day was subdued. It was one thing to know of the difficulties between Chase and his father, but actually seeing the disdain on Ronald's face drove the point home with painful strength. Even the usually carefree La'isa was quiet.

When she told her father that she was going to see Chase, he convinced her that he needed some time and space. She heeded the advice, though she found herself standing on the edge of the lake staring toward the island in the distance several times — including just before she turned in for a night of fitful sleep.

The next morning, before her father awakened, she pulled out the radio and stepped away from camp a short distance. "Chase, are you there?"

When she didn't get an answer the first time, she tried again. This time, he answered, his voice monotone. "Yeah, I'm here."

"I... I just wanted to see how you're doing. Are you okay?"

"Ankle's fine," he answered, avoiding what he surely knew was the real question. "Have to go meet my friends and lead them out here, so I've got to go."

"Okay. Be safe."

It hurt more than she wanted it to for him to dismiss her, and she knew that didn't bode well for her. It could serve as a perfect excuse to close her heart off and overwhelm the attraction she felt. She'd done it before. This time was different, though. Her natural inclination to help and heal wouldn't let her avoid him, knowing the pain Chase was going through.

There was one place she knew for sure that she could cast her cares aside — at least for a little while.

Oddly enough, when she stepped up to the edge of the pool, her mother was nowhere to be found. Pursing her lips and letting out a sigh, she slipped into the water. She was hurting, and she knew deep down that her mother wouldn't let her endure that alone for long.

****

La'isa felt the tug of her daughter's heart, and quite nearly abandoned her quest to return to the pool. Aching even as her daughter did, she remained deep beneath the water, waiting for the right moment — the right person.

At last, toes dipped into the water, and she felt it. Smiling, she let her magic flow through the water, then up through those slender digits.

Feeling what she hoped, she twisted in the water and called upon her magic once more. Darting forward, she vanished, leaving behind only a cloud of bubbles as her magic carried her to the mouth of her pool, where her daughter awaited.

****

Dara sat near the edge of the lake, looking out between two white birch trees at the flotilla of canoes moving away from the island. The visit with her mother had helped, numbing the pain with touches of anger that had gripped her the day before, but certainly not erasing it.

Watching Chase lead his friends across the lake brought some of the sting right back.

Thirty years old and I'm acting like a schoolgirl being ignored by her crush.

"You okay?"

Without turning around, she said, "I'm fine, Dad."

"He's dealing with a lot right now."

"And that excuses..? Never mind."

"No, it doesn't excuse it. He knows that."

A leaf fluttered down from above, drifting in a quick see-saw pattern in front of her before catching a breeze and blowing out over the water.

"He'll come to his senses," her father finished.

Dara sighed and thought, Maybe it would be better if he didn't.

"Best head up and get some chow before it goes cold. I'm going to go check on Ronald and see if being mad about Chase being here and me not telling him might be enough to get him to tell me what really started it all in the first place."

She turned around. "You said it was because he dropped out of college."

"That's as far as he got before he clammed up on me. There's more to it than that. Even Ron isn't that pigheaded."

"Okay. Sorry I'm moping around."

"Everyone's allowed. You spend so much time taking care of everyone else that you forget about yourself." He patted her on the shoulder and walked over to the canoe.

Dara headed into camp to eat, and shortly thereafter heard the sound of a canoe nearby. The sound of wood bumping aluminum let her know it wasn't her father returning. Thinking it could be Chase, she struggled with whether to go look down the trail, or sneak off to her mother's pool to pretend she wasn't there.

"Hello?"

The voice was female, and instantly relieved the turmoil in Dara's head. She walked down the trail, pleasantly answering, "Hello," along the way.

The woman looked to be in her late forties, wearing a wide brimmed straw hat and a loose, flowing blouse. A bright smile spread across her face as she tried to steady her drifting canoe and she said, "You must be Dara."

"Uhm... Yes. Are you a friend of my father's?" she asked, not recognizing the woman.

"Oh, no. I'm here with Chase, darling. Miranda Weston."

"Pleased to meet you. I thought you'd all gone over to Blueberry Hill."

The woman laid a hand on her chest. "I'm still jet-lagged, and climbing just didn't appeal to me. Besides, if a gaggle of artists and writers can't capture it for me, they aren't doing a very good job, are they?"

Dara chuckled, taking an instant liking to the woman. "Guess not."

"Do you mind if I come over?"

"No. Please."

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at this," Miranda said as she tried to maneuver the canoe up to shore.

"Throw me the rope. I'll steady you, and give you a hand."

The canoe bumped against the rocky shore, and once Miranda was safely on dry land, she said, "Thank you, darling." She reached back into the canoe for a satchel near the seat.

"So, it's your first time here?"

"Yes, and it's just as beautiful as Chase's stories. I'm so glad I came, even though I'm absolutely exhausted."

"Well, come up and sit down."

"You are a dear," Miranda said as she accepted Dara's helping hand in the climb up the trail.

Miranda sighed in relief as she sat down on a camp chair, while Dara used one of the many log seats her father had crafted over the years. The older woman plucked at her pale yellow top, shaking her shoulders. "I knew I should have washed this more than once. It's new, and it's driving me batty."

"Chase let me know that you're nudists. If you want to..." she made a little lifting gesture with her hand.

"Oh, no. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable, dear."

"No, really. It's okay. I'm tempted to join you. I'd forgotten how hot and humid it is up here. I'm not used to it any more."

"If you insist," Miranda said, her voice betraying relief. She stood, unbuttoning her top along the way.

Having told the truth about the stifling humidity, and already taking a liking to the charming woman, Dara decided that they'd probably both be more comfortable on an equal footing, so she stripped off her clothing as well.

"No tan lines," Miranda remarked as she sat back down. "I take it you're not exactly a stranger to this."

Putting her shirt and shorts on top of the log as cushioning, Dara chuckled before she sat back down. "I wouldn't say I'm a nudist, but I can empathize."

"And you're simply stunning. You don't look a day over twenty. I'm terribly jealous."

Truth to tell, the years had been kind to Miranda. She was trim and attractive. "Don't sell yourself short."

"Oh, I don't." She let out a sultry laugh. "But, I won't beat about the bush, darling. The real reason I stayed behind and came to see you is I wanted to talk to you about Chase."

"Hmm?"

"I knew something was wrong and I managed to pluck it out of him. He's quite good at putting up a front. If it weren't for what happened with his father before we arrived, he might have fooled even me. He's beside himself, darling. He has no idea how to apologize to you."

Dara shrugged. "I understand... Well, I guess I don't, but..."

"You know what happened between him and his father, then?"

"Well, partially. Dad said that it was when he quit college."

"That's the when but not the why. I doubt anyone else knows. I was one of the first people he met when he moved, and I rented him a room. It took a little work, but I convinced him to confide in me."

"So, what happened?"

"It was a promise he'd made to his mother before she died. He'd always had notions of traveling the world to find himself, and she asked him to promise that he would at least go to college so she wouldn't worry about him supporting himself."

Dara gasped, "And so when he quit..."

"His father considered it a betrayal, and hasn't spoken a single word to him since. He won't answer the phone, or email, and even returns letters and cards unopened."

"That's terrible."

"And it's pain that he carries with him through every waking moment. That's also why he's afraid to apologize to you."

Dara's eyebrows lifted. "I don't understand."

"He's afraid you won't accept. He's afraid that he couldn't handle another burden."

"But, it isn't that big of a thing. It hurt me that he wouldn't let me help him, but..."

"For him — with you — it is. Darling, he's been in love with you since he was seven years old. He's been pushing away women ever since I've known him. They all have one fatal flaw. They're not you."

Dara blushed, even as chills shot through her. "But, we were just kids."

"He told me about the flowers he left you the last time you were here together. And he told me that the only reason he could summon up the courage is that he knew he wasn't likely to see you for a long time. He's afraid of having his dream shattered — and you're that dream."

"But after all these years?" she said in disbelief, thinking Miranda had to be making more of it than there was. "We haven't seen each other or even talked in all that time."

Miranda held up a finger, and then bent down to retrieve something from her bag. She pulled out a tablet and tapped a couple of icons. "This is his work. I'm almost always the first to see the new pieces, and I always take a picture. Just look."

Melinda looked at the first image, a painting of the redwoods. It was beautifully done, and she could certainly see why he was able to make a living as an artist. The next was a remarkably detailed picture of an eagle. The third was of a nude dryad, artfully concealed by leaves, but the woodland spirit's face was fully visible.

And it was hers.

Again and again, she saw her face in his paintings and sketches, done with such love and care. Nearly half of the images included her. Finally, she reached one that was just of her face, so perfect that she felt as if she were looking at a photo of her at her absolute best. She could see every ounce of his heart and soul poured into the work, and could almost feel his love reaching through the screen to envelop her heart.