Love Among the Elk

"You get what you needed?"

"A lot of it, yeah. I should have this assignment done right on schedule."

"Not sure if I should be happy about that or not."

She gave me a speculative look but didn't answer. Back at the parking lot, I helped her toss her Redwing back in the rental without being asked.

"So where you staying?"

"The closest motel I could find was the Shady Dell, so I got reservations there."

"Christ, that's forty miles down the state highway and it's a dump."

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I have a spare bedroom at my place. It's not much but it's clean and it will save you a lot of driving."

"Said the spider to the fly?"

Her smile took the sting out of it.

"Hospitality is sacred out here. I swear nothing's going to happen that you don't want."

"I believe you. Will you help me get the rest of my stuff in your truck?"

My house isn't much more than an old fire lookout tower, originally built by the CCC in about 1932. The work I had put into it went more into modern plumbing and electricity than décor. She carried her backpack into the one main room and looked around.

"This is cozy."

"I live in a very small house, but my windows look out on a very large world."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"A cowboy who quotes Thoreau? That's new."

"A reporter who recognizes Thoreau? I'm impressed."

She grinned.

"You win. Do you have a shower around here?"

"Right this way. Here's your room, and there's clean towels in that cupboard. The washer and drier are in that closet if you want. Help yourself."

I left her to it and went to fix dinner, trying not to imagine hot sudsy water sluicing all over her bare curves. She eventually reappeared in an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts, rubbing a towel through her hair. It fell precisely into place even wet- clearly it had been cut by a genius.

"Smells great!"

"I don't often have an excuse to cook, living alone. Hope you like Pasta Carbonara. Grab a glass of wine."

She picked up the bottle and saw the note.

"Good luck, Sharon? Who's Sharon?"

"My bosses' wife. She left that here this afternoon."

"How did she..."

"Cell phones don't work out here, but the bush telegraph sure does."

"She has a key to the place?"

"A key? Oh! No one locks their doors when they're only gone for the day."

"That sounds really nice."

"Can you watch this stove while I take a quick shower?"

"Sure, no problem."

I showered in record time, ran back, handed her a plate of food, and we chowed down. When we were done I stood up.

"Come out on the deck and catch the last of the sunset."

The deck is why I live there; you can see three major volcanoes from there, and their glaciers were turning all the colors of sunset. The smells of sage and pine perfumed the air, and the crickets were chirping. I pointed out a golden eagle circling over a meadow down below us.

"This is amazing!"

"Yeah, I love it out here."

She flopped into the hammock I keep out there.

"I could get used to this, too. Look, there's the first star! You making a wish?"

I looked at her.

"Yep, I sure am."

Maybe she blushed, maybe it was just the sunset...

"We don't see stars like this in New York. Do you recognize the constellations?"

"Sure. There's the Big Dipper, and if you follow the line of the last two stars out you get to Polaris, the North Star. Useful for not getting lost."

"I'm not seeing it."

I knelt beside her and pointed, grunting slightly.

"See the Dipper? Look for the bright star out there..."

"You OK? You look uncomfortable on that deck."

"No problem. Just some sore muscles from a long day."

"Will this thing hold two?"

I grabbed the old quilt out of the tote box under the hammock and joined her without hesitation. Put two people in a hammock and they inevitably end up lying against each other. I got us both wrapped in the quilt, and we found that it was easiest to point out constellations if she put her head on my shoulder and I pointed with the arm I had around her. She did feel delightful, all the more so because she apparently hadn't bothered to put on a bra after her shower. We did that for a while, swinging gently in the hammock.

"You learn a lot today?"

"You wouldn't believe how many women made a point of telling me that you're single and a really great guy."

"Those women don't have enough drama in their lives."

"Why is it such a big deal to them?"

"Perspective. They look at me and see one of the few men around here with an education and a steady job, and wonder why I'm single. Most single women, on the other hand, see a scientist who lives in the middle of nowhere on a government salary and spends his time studying wildlife. They don't exactly knock down my doors."

"Not many single women around here?"

"Not unless I want to compete with a dozen other men for the cocktail waitress down at the Dew Drop Inn, which I don't."

"New York City isn't that much better, in my experience."

"Really? A beautiful woman like you?"

"Now you comment?"

"I'm off duty now, so I'm allowed to notice the obvious."

"Well, it's nice of you to say that."

She thought for a second.

"The men I meet in New York are obsessed with either getting or spending money. I finally decided that I'd rather stay home than spend another first date listening to some blowhard talk about how much money he made last week day trading or his house in the Hamptons. I notice that you'd rather talk about elk and your friends."

"Hell, I'm a government scientist. A smart reporter like you can find out what I make in about thirty seconds. What more is there to say about it? I do all right, but if you're looking for a man who's hell bent on getting rich you're in the wrong hammock."

She leaned over and looked me in the eyes.

"That's why I think I'm in exactly the right place."

The kiss was long and slow and sweet, an acknowledgement of our intense mutual attraction and our desire to see where it might lead us. When I tried to deepen it and started sliding a hand under her shirt, though, she put a hand on my chest and pulled back.

""Jim, I'm obviously incredibly attracted to you, but I have a couple rules I never break."

"Uh oh."

"I don't do one night stands, and I don't sleep with the subjects of my stories."

"Could you stay an extra day or two?"

"I'm not into two night stands either! And what about being the subject of my story, wise guy?"

She was smiling, so I wasn't worried.

"How fast can you finish your story?"

"Probably a week or two after I get back to New York."

"That doesn't really help, does it? Look, all I can say is that I don't want this to end when you leave here."

"Neither do I. For tonight, though, I think it's time we head to our own beds."

At the door of her room she paused, turned slowly, and slid her arms around my neck.

"From the neck down there's nothing I'd like more than to spend the night in your bed. That's why we have rules, though, isn't it? For times when we're really tempted?"

"And I would love to toss you on my bed and spend the night ruining you for any other man, but I have to respect your principles even though it's frustrating. You're still my guest."

One long last kiss, and she pushed me back.

"I have to stop this before I do something I might regret. Good night."

"I promise you wouldn't regret it, but OK. Good night."

The next morning she wandered into the main room looking tousled, sleepy eyed, and totally adorable.

"Morning. Sleep well?"

"Yeah, that was a long day yesterday."

She stretched her arms wide and yawned. Apparently she had lost the shorts sometime during the night. She really did have great taste in lingerie. She caught my look and rapidly pulled down the hem of her sweatshirt.

"Oops, sorry!"

"For what? You just made my morning!"

She blushed.

"Well, might as well do it right, then."

She came over and kissed me before scooting off to get dressed. That really was a terrific way to start the day. Then I noticed that the little minx had swiped my cup of coffee. I grinned to myself. Cheap at the price. I went and poured another.

She came back in jeans and hiking boots, ready to go.

"So how did a city girl get so comfortable in the woods?"

"I wasn't born a city girl. I grew up in Vermont and moved to the city to go to J-school at Columbia. I had a job waiting when I graduated and stayed there. So what's the plan for today?"

"We have about half a day's work left to do on the roundup. Once we're done, we usually have a potluck supper over at the grange hall. These folks live so far apart, they grab any excuse to socialize. I'll take you with us for the rest of the roundup to finish any pictures you still need. If you still want to interview people, they'll all be at the potluck."

"Makes sense. Lead on, MacNeil!"

"I thought that was 'lead on, MacDuff?'"

"Close enough for Government work."

"Hey, cheap shot!"

She laughingly dodged my swats at her rear end all the way to the Suburban and didn't fight when I caught her at the door and kissed her before getting in. She did warn me to cool it before we picked up the rest of the crew.

"I know. Lay a hand on you in front of anyone else, and they'll be talking about it until Christmas."

"That, and those ladies won't be half as friendly if they think I'm some sort of hussy."

"Honey, you've got elegance out the wazoo. But you're right, let's cool it."

"Nut!"

The morning chores went quickly enough, and we headed over to the grange hall. Wendy was going from table to table, listening to the chatter, asking questions, and taking the occasional picture. The men posed cheerfully, the women were reluctant until they saw that she had a real eye for the inner beauty under their hardworking faces. I hung out with my crew, chatting and joking.

"Ya know, Jim, that Ms. Erskine is one heck of a nice gal."

"I notice you bums didn't try to make her cross the creek on a wet log."

"Hell, we didn't tell the last one to do that either."

"You sure didn't tell her about that new footbridge just around the bend, did you?"

"Well, after what she called Ben when he told her that the restroom was behind the third bush on the left, we didn't think she wanted any more advice."

"Yeah, and you didn't hear from DC when she squawked about getting soaking wet!"

"That's why they pay you the big bucks, Jim."

There was a sudden stir as the guys got to their feet and took off their hats. Cowboys still show respect the old fashioned way. Wendy gave them all a bright smile.

"You guys have been great, and I hope my story helps what you're doing here. I'll send you all copies when it gets published. Jim, could you give me a ride to my car?"

Neither of us knew what to say when we got there, so I tried.

"Wendy, I meant what I said last night. I don't know what we're starting here, but I don't want this to be the end of it."

"I meant it when I said I didn't want this to be the end of it either."

She unsnapped my shirt pocket, pushed a folded piece of paper into it, and snapped it again.

"Now you have all my phone numbers and e-mail addresses. If you don't call me I'm going to have Ben after you with his lariat!"

"It won't take that, believe me."

She kissed me, we hugged for a long time, and with one final kiss she got in her rental and drove off. I felt lower than an August snowpack.

I got about half a mile back down the road when a blond head popped up in the mirror. I jumped about a foot.

"Uncle Jim! I saw you kissing Ms. Erskine!"

This was all I needed. First things first.

"Lindsay, get your little butt up here and put a seatbelt on."

I had a little time to think while she did so.

"Lindsay, if I tell your momma you were sneaking around spying on me she's gonna ground you until you're in high school, right?"

The excitement left her eyes quickly.

"Yeah, she would. You gonna tell?"

"Tell you what. You keep your mouth shut and I will too. It's not about your safety- it's not about you at all- so it's an OK secret. All right?"

"All right."

We shook on it. Now for the hard part.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with grownups who really like each other kissing. It might even be all right for you once you turn, say, twenty-five."

"Gross! I'm not going to kiss any boys."

"Good plan, kiddo."

She thought a little.

"Ms. Erskine says she's twenty-six."

Two years younger than me. Perfect age.

"Then there's nothing wrong with her kissing me, is there? Those dumb cowboys I work with might tease her about it, though, and no girl likes to be teased, right?"

"I hate it."

"So don't put your friend in that position, OK?"

"Is she my friend?"

"She already told me she really likes you."

Lindsay beamed.

"I really like her too! She's so smart, and pretty, and she lets me help with important stuff and talks to me like I'm not just a kid who doesn't know anything..."

She thought for a couple minutes.

"Uncle Jim?"

My mind was a long way away with a certain long-legged redhead.

"Hmm?"

"I think you should marry Ms. Erskine."

"You know, Linds, that's an interesting idea. Grownups don't get married after they've only known each other for a couple days, though. Besides, she lives three thousand miles from here. We have a lot to work out before we start thinking about anything like that."

"Well, you like her, don't you?"

"I sure do. I wish that was all there was to it."

Of course I called Wendy as soon as she was due back in New York. We got in the habit of talking every other day or so. It stayed light, sharing our day and what was going on with our work while avoiding the issue of what we were going to do next. She had a bunch of follow up questions as she finalized her big article on the roundup, and I did my best to help.

She sounded more excited than usual when I talked to her a week or so after the article was due.

"Guess what, Jim? My editor likes the article but she says it needs follow up. She wants me to come out there again and do a report on how the transplanted elk are doing."

"Hey, that's great! When will you be here?"

"Well, I'm going to Alaska on another assignment in about six weeks. How will the elk be looking then?"

"Should be the ideal time. Listen, how about you take a few days off while you're here and you and I go play tourist? There's some incredible parts of this state you've never seen."

"That sounds great, but my schedule's too tight for that. I have to get the Alaska thing done."

Maybe I was sounding desperate, but I had to try.

"What if I took a few days off and came to Alaska with you?"

"I can't bring a date on an assignment, Jim, it's unprofessional. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to have some serious time alone with you, but let's make the best of what my calendar allows for now."

"How about I meet you at the airport? That gives us at least a little time to ourselves. "

"Sounds good to me."

I'm sure I was grinning like a damn fool while I waited for her flight, but I was too excited to care. When she appeared at the gate she looked even better than I remembered, and her grin made the whole drive worthwhile. The hug made my year. As I waited for her to get her carryon stuff organized, I heard a mutter from the gate agent:

"I see now why you were so excited, son. Good luck!"

I got her single piece of luggage collected and into my truck in record time, and we started the long drive back to my place. Wendy napped in the passenger seat for the first hour or so and then yawned and looked around.

"You clean this truck just for me?"

"Well, I had to search it for hyperactive twelve year olds anyhow."

I started to tell her about Lindsay, but she stopped me.

"Lindsay already fessed up. Don't bother. Sounds like you handled it pretty well."

"You talk to her?"

"She e-mails me whenever she gets close enough to civilization, and I write back."

"What about?"

"Girl talk. Mind your own business."

"If you're hiding anything serious from me, you and I have a real problem!"

"Don't be stupid, Jim. Don't you think I'd be on the phone to you in about two seconds if I thought that little girl was in danger? What do you think I am?"

I took a deep breath. She was absolutely right.

"You're right, and I'm sorry. I don't always stop to think when it comes to that kid."

She smiled at me.

"I like your instincts if not your judgment. I pity the first boy who tries to take her on a date!"

"I just hope she keeps thinking boys are icky for a while longer. How old were you when you stopped?"

"Stopped? I still think boys are icky. Present company excepted of course, most of the time."

"I said I'm sorry! They all ARE icky except for me. Keep that in mind the next time some slick New York City stockbroker hits on you."

"Believe me, I've seen all of those I want to."

We smiled at each other, the small tiff forgotten, and she held my hand most of the rest of the way.

At Fish & Game headquarters, we were greeted by a small blond blur that flung itself at Wendy. She hugged it and then held it at arms length.

"Hmm, who's this?"

"You remember me! Stop being silly!"

"Lindsay? You look so much older than the last time I saw you! Hmm, I think I saw that name on something..."

She pulled a package out of her backpack and handed it to Lindsay.

"Better open it, kiddo."

Lindsay tore it open and pulled out a T-shirt with a picture of some skinny dork I vaguely recognized as the lead singer of a popular boy band. Then she held it up and noticed the Sharpie writing on the back.

"To Lindsay, with love, keep up the good work? Oh my GOD, he signed it? You KNOW him? Oh my GOD!"

Wendy was chuckling.

"I know people who know him, anyway, and when you said you liked the band I thought you'd like the shirt."

"This is just the coolest thing EVER! Thanks, Ms. Erskine! Wait, there's something else in here?"

She pulled out another shirt. This was a polo with the logo of Wendy's magazine on one side of the chest and "Lindsay Collins, Staff Reporter" embroidered on the other. She was so overwhelmed she started crying, and Wendy knelt and hugged her.

"What's wrong, sweetie? You helped me so much with my story I thought you'd like it."

"I LOVE it! You're the best friend ever!"

Wendy rubbed her back until she caught her breath and then stood up.

"Jim, I know you need to check in at your office. I'm going to take my girlfriend here for a cup of tea and meet you back here in, say, half an hour?"

I shook my head as they walked off hand in hand with Lindsay chattering a mile a minute. When they reappeared, Lindsay was proudly wearing the "Staff Reporter" shirt and the boy band was nowhere to be seen.

That evening was a lot like the first one once we got to my house. Without the initial awkwardness, it was even less time before we were wrapped in a quilt in the hammock on my deck.

"Hey, look, there's a shooting star!"

"It's the right time of year for them. Keep watching. You know, I think you've convinced Lindsay that she's adopted the world's coolest big sister. How did you get that shirt?"

"Our music critics get sent more of that type of stuff than they know what to do with. One of them owed me a small favor so he got the autograph. It's no trouble for them. Personally I think the band sounds awful, but I hated grownups saying that about bands I liked when I was her age. I had the other one made up in the building gift shop."

"Well, that's about the most thoughtful thing I've ever seen. I think she's going to get Membership #2 in your fan club."

"If she's #2, who's #1?"

"I am, of course."

This kiss was a lot more passionate than the first time, and we got wrapped around each other in a lot of interesting, complicated ways. She was wiggling against me when she suddenly gasped and her head rolled back.