Lucy's Letters

"I appreciate that," she said, taking the packet and staring at it. There followed an awkward silence.

"It shouldn't take you long to read them," I added, giving her just a little guidance. "There are only eight letters, and they don't run more than a page each." I could see her nodding, while flipping them over and back. "I've put them in chronological order for you, starting with her college days and then, jumping forward to her time in San Francisco. Those are the larger, white envelopes."

She nodded again. "Thanks for doing this, Adina. Definitely above and beyond. Okay!" she exhaled. "I'm going to tackle these letters! I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to read them in the bedroom."

"No, go ahead, you'll want the privacy. I'll make myself some tea."

"Here," she said, fetching out a large bound book. "This is one of my favorite sketchbooks. Lots of nudes in them. You'll find some packets of tea in that tin. I prefer the black teas, but there is a box of herbal stuff in the cabinet above. And the bathroom's through there. Make yourself at home."

Before disappearing into her bedroom, she flashed me a broad, toothy smile that made her eyes squint. She left the door open, so I could actually see her sitting on her bed. Not wishing to hover, I put on the kettle, and sat down at the kitchen table with her sketchbook.

I was impressed with the quality of her work. The drawings were mostly charcoal, though there were a few pen and ink studies. She clearly loved to work with bold strokes, especially when wielding a charcoal stick, and yet her ability to capture subtle detail was also evident. There were still life drawings and a few city sketches. And as she had forewarned, plenty of female nudes. Reclining nudes, standing nudes, seated nudes with their leg propped up on the strut of a chair. Some seemed only partially formed ideas, while others were quite polished. Her treatment of hair was often finely rendered, and musculature was accurately drawn, though, they weren't at all clinical or overly technical. I thought they were sensuous, with some erotic poses.

I had to laugh to see the variety of pubic mounds, some cleanly shaven, with the lips finely sketched and others with a roughly hewn dark splotch denoting lots of pubic hair. A couple of those dark thatches reminded me of my own wild tangle.

I loved the drawings showing women's backsides, their buttocks sometimes muscled, other times, soft and full of cellulose. But after all those sinuous shapes, your eye would be drawn to the face. Expressive faces with sultry, lidded eyes, long lashes, shapely eyebrows and slightly parted lips, conveying a woman deep in thought or recalling some past event.

Every so often, I would cast my eyes toward the bedroom, wondering where she was in her reading, and what effect the letters were having on her. It made me recall my feelings as I read them for the first time.

"Oh my god..." I heard Stephanie's voice from within the bedroom. What had she just read? It had to be one of the earlier ones. The tension was starting to get to me.

A few snippets from those first letters appeared to my mind's eye. "But everything looks good on you..." "I'm 'that way'..." "It's difficult to deny what's in my heart...

It was quiet for a bit. Then I heard her laugh. Then suddenly, there arose another dramatic exclamation, much louder. "I don't believe this..."

Eventually, she appeared at the door to her bedroom. On her face was what could only be described as shock. Her arms hung limply at her side. In one of them, she clutched the eight letters.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, not wishing to jar her from whatever state or place she was in.

She shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts. "These are not what I was expecting. I had no idea of any of this. Not a clue! Here I am, coming to terms with my gayness, and my grandparents were in a fucking threesome. I see now why you asked me about Gabrielle. I thought she was her caretaker, not her lover!"

The ensuing silence was awkward, so I attempted to fill it. "You can see why I was hesitant to tell you much about the content of the letters. I wasn't sure what you knew or how you'd react. So, no one ever told you the truth about their relationship?"

"Nope." Stephanie set the letters off to the side and sat on the sofa, looking off into space. After a bit, she provided further context.

"When I was about twelve, my family moved to Sacramento, so I didn't see my grandparents that much after that. And when I left to attend college in Tucson, I hardly saw them at all. I would sometimes fly out to see my parents, and I did make it down to San Francisco a couple of times to see them. I remember Grandpa Robert being there, but I don't remember seeing Gabrielle. Or anyone by the name of Allen. Mostly, Grandma and I would talk over the phone, and I would send her letters and photos of my shows and hikes. But I was pretty much into my own life. I didn't do a very good job of keeping in touch after leaving California."

She looked over at me, her face contorted. "But that's not what really gets me!"

I went and sat next to her. I could see her trying to keep her emotions under control. "Tell me, Steph..."

"Remember I said I thought Gabrielle was my grandmother's caretaker? Well, that's because after my grandfather died, I was told that Grandma had this friend, Gabrielle, who would be taking care of her. I never questioned it. Why would I?"

"Is your grandmother alive?"

"Sure. She's in her seventies now, but she still lives in the same house."

"Maybe it's time you called her? Ask her about Gabrielle. I'm sure she'd tell you."

"I don't know...I don't want to accuse her, or make her feel guilty. I mean, they must have felt they needed to keep it a secret from me. Though I don't know why."

"It is puzzling," I said as delicately as I could.

"My mother definitely knew! I mean, Grandpa Robert was her father. And Gabrielle was my grandmother's life partner. And all this time, I'm out here struggling with my sexuality. Kind of ironic."

With Stephanie coming to accept her love of women, it had to sting a bit. "Do your parents know you're out of the closet?"

"Yeah, sure, my parents know. Mom was a bit weird about it, which makes sense after reading these letters."

I placed my hand on her back and gently rubbed. "May I offer a suggestion? Give yourself some time before you make any rash decisions. Instead of obsessing over why this was kept from you, just take some time to appreciate these letters. I mean, it's pretty amazing what your grandmother and Gabrielle did. College sweethearts. They went to tremendous lengths to be together, and it wasn't easy for them back then. I think that's beautiful. I'd like to write about it someday."

Stephanie nodded, and smiled. "I think you should. But you're right, it is insane to think that she and my grandfather kept up this facade so they could live life on their terms. But finding out that both my grandparents were gay! I mean, damn! Still, I would have liked to have met Gabrielle. She obviously was important to my grandmother. I wish I'd been allowed into that part of their lives."

"Hey Steph, Lucy mentions in one of her letters that my grandmother paid a visit to San Francisco to see her. In it, she mentions that you were around ten at the time. Do you remember meeting my Grandma?"

Steph cocked her head. "Yeah, I do," she nodded, her eyes focused on a distant memory. "We were still living in San Francisco at the time. As a matter of fact, ..." She got up and dashed into her bedroom. When she returned, she held out her hand. "Your grandmother gave me this locket for my tenth birthday."

In her hand was an oval gold locket attached to a delicate gold chain. A strange feeling came over me as I instantly recognized it. "This is way too weird," I mumbled. "I have one exactly like this. Got it for my tenth birthday." We looked at each other, our eyes wide in amazement.

"Have you ever worn yours?" Stephanie asked me.

"No. I suppose when I was married, I could have put a picture of my husband and me in there. Or if I had children, I could see putting their faces in it. But I never did. What about you?"

"Never worn mine either. It seemed silly to put a picture of me in there. I suppose if I happen to meet that special someone, we could put a photo of us in here. Then I'd have a reason to wear it."

My body experienced a slight chill.

"You, okay?" Steph asked with concern. "You look cold. Want a jacket?"

"No, thank you. I just can't shake the feeling that there's a reason I'm here, and it has nothing to do with your grandmother's letters. I mean, look at us. We were born the same year, our grandmothers knew each other, we both were given lockets...Interesting, isn't it?"

"Well, maybe you and I were supposed to meet. This is a special place down her, and there's lots I can teach you." She then playfully tussled my hair.

I gave her a quizzical look. She continued. "Have you ever spent time in the desert?"

"No, not really."

"Well, there you are. You've come to the right place. Prepare to lose your mind and come to your senses! Oh, Adina, if you lived here, the places I could take you...the canyons, the San Pedro river, the Chiricahua mountains, the Santa Ritas...But tomorrow, I'm taking you to Catalina State Park for a hike through the Sonoran desert. And I'll introduce you to all my friends."

"Your friends?" I queried, assuming she knew staffers that worked the park.

"Yeah. The birds, the butterflies, the insects, the flowers and plants...But we do need to make an early start. By midday it starts to heat up. Might want to take it easy, you not being used to the heat and all, living up there in the wimpy Northwest." She was clearly jibing me.

"Watch out, Steph. I may surprise you on those trails!"

"You're on! Help me make some dinner, and we'll call it an early night."

And so, working together, we diced some veggies, shredded some cheese, whipped up some eggs and Stephanie cooked us up two tasty omelets. I took care of the hash browns and toast, and we had an evening breakfast. During dinner, I told her a bit about my freelance work, and she talked about her current show at the gallery.

"Uh, is it alright if I take a shower?" I asked, as we cleaned up.

"Sure, right through there. I'll get your bed ready."

Her bathroom was very clean, and I liked that. I had the feeling she'd cleaned it in anticipation of my arrival. I grabbed my toiletries kit and took a hot shower. When I came out of the bathroom, I noticed she had pulled out the sofa into a bed. I could already feel my lower back aching. I knew from experience that sofa beds are rarely comfortable.

"Don't like it?" she asked, accurately gauging my look of skepticism.

"Well, as one who travels for a living, I usually find them to be uncomfortable."

She nodded slowly. "Sorry. If you'd rather, I can drive you to a hotel. There's several quite close by." I could see that she felt badly, but there was no need for me to leave that evening.

"Absolutely not," I countered, with a wave of my hand. She'd plainly gone to some trouble to make her home comfortable for me, and I didn't want to disrespect that. Besides, I would much rather be with her than on my own in a hotel. "I'll give it a try for one night, and if it doesn't work out, we'll come up with another plan."

"Okay, you sleep on it." she joked. "But I do have a good-sized bed, and you're welcome to share it. Though I should warn you, I like to sleep in the nude," she teased me.

I gave her a cheeky smile. "Well, I like to sleep in the nude, too. So there! I'm not a prude, Steph. I just think you shouldn't have to give up your bed."

A corner of her mouth raised. "We'll continue this discussion tomorrow. Sleep tight."

While I stripped down to my panties and put on my nightshirt, Stephanie took her turn in the shower. I got under the covers and watched as she exited the bathroom bare assed and made her way to the bedroom.

"Well, she wasn't kidding about sleeping in the nude," I thought as I began to settle into sleep.

The sofa mattress wasn't too bad. Though when I thought of Stephanie sleeping in that large, comfy bed all by herself, I actually considered accepting her offer to join her. But there was an important dynamic at play, I could feel it, and it was telling me to stay put. And so, I toughed it out on the sofa.

Catalina State Park

"Rise and shine, campers!"

"Unnnnn..." I groaned, as Stephanie shook me awake.

"Breakfast is on the table. Did you survive the night?"

"We'll discuss that later," I groused.

Once I shook the sleep from my eyes, I swung into action. "Coffee!" I shouted, getting up and staggering to the pot.

As I slowly woke up, I saw that Stephanie had our stuff ready to go. We dressed, had some cereal, packed our sandwiches, water bottles and power bars and hit the road. This time, the jeep's top was down and the wind whipped past our faces as we headed north.

Of course, Stephanie had her long, brown hair threaded through her cap, blue this time, and she also had on some hi-tech sunglasses, secured with Croakies. I had on my sunglasses, as well, with my dark hair loose and flowing free.

Stephanie had outfitted me with a pair of binoculars, which included her tutorial on how to use them. "When you're trying to track a flitting bird or a fast-moving animal, try to locate it first with your eyes. Then, lift the binoculars to your eyes. Let your eyes be the guide."

After entering the park, we drove for a bit, looking for a particular trail she had in mind when suddenly, she swerved over to the side and put the vehicle in park. "Out of the car!"

We jumped out of the car and she pointed up to a soaring hawk. "That's a Prairie Falcon," she said, proud of her find. "See those dark underwing bars. That's how you tell it apart from a Peregrine."

I actually managed to focus my bins on it, and was thrilled. The falcon was indeed majestic as it rode the currents.

"That's a beautiful bird," I exclaimed, truly impressed by her ability to pick it out of the sky.

We got back in the jeep and drove on to the trailhead. Part of me wanted to take in the surroundings, but another part of me kept wanting to watch Stephanie. I loved the way she was all concentration, and yet clearly happy to be outdoors.

It was smart to get out there early. I could tell it was going to be a hot one. Already, the air was alive with the thrum of insects.

Once on the trail, I let Stephanie take the lead. I was happy to follow and watch her. I began to notice her agility and her well-muscled legs and ass. She was in very good shape. I thought of that flower tattooed on her arm, and wondered if she had any others. I couldn't lie to myself. Stephanie was beginning to have an effect on me, and it wasn't a feeling I was used to.

Suddenly, my eyes were drawn to a bird flying to a tall cactus. I recognized it. "Hey, I know that bird. That's a flicker. We have that bird up where I live."

She gave me a pleasant smile. "Not bad, rookie. Can you see that its wings and tail are yellow, and not orange?"

"Yeah..." I said, studying the bird as it pecked at a hole in a large cactus.

"That's because it is a Gilded Flicker, a completely different species from your Northern Flickers. This is a bird of the Sonoran Desert. It loves to nest in these old Saguaros.

I shook my head. "Wow, you really know your stuff."

She eyed me intently. "Welcome to my world, Adina. I've spent years in this country, and never grow tired of it. I'm glad that I can share it with you."

"I'm glad too. And unlike that ex of yours, I love being out here, and am open to learning everything I can from you." I don't know why I brought up her ex, but it seemed important to me.

"I'll gladly teach you all I know. How many years you plan on staying?" she joked. Then after a moment, "I hope to grow old here and paint in the desert just like Georgia O'Keefe. " Her wistful expression made it clear to me that this was a legitimate fantasy of hers.

"That flower on your arm could be a Georgia O'Keefe," I suggested, proud to have made the association.

"Could be," she answered, smiling enigmatically.

Our playful exchanges brought home for me her interest in women, and that it was possible that she could be interested in me. The real question for me was, how long DID I want to stay? Something about her made me not want to cut this visit too short. I wasn't on a deadline, though at some point, I'd need to put in for an assignment. But my schedule was pretty open for the coming week.

Stephanie told me about the monsoon season and how it brought life to this part of Arizona. "Most people think of Arizona in summer as an uninhabitable place. But what people don't get is that while parts of our state are quite parched, we often get rain here in the southeast. Tropical storms bring all this water here. The storms can be real powerhouses, crackling with thunder and lightning, and dropping tons of rain. The dry arroyos become rushing rivers, and everything turns green and wet...It's magical..."

On and on she went, rhapsodizing on the beauties around us, and I was mesmerized. I learned about the weather systems, and the birds and butterflies, and lizards and snakes...and whether she intended it or not, I was enchanted.

We sat down by a trickling stream. Off to our right a bird was chattering incessantly. "That's a Bewick's Wren. It's letting us know that we're in its territory."

"Sounds upset with us." I observed, genuinely concerned. "Should we move?"

"No, it's just warning us. Eventually, it will see we're not a threat and accept us."

"My word, Steph, these ARE your friends. You're an artist, you're attractive, creative, you love nature, you're in great shape...How could anyone not want to be with you?" I gushed. I could see her blushing and realized that I was embarrassing her. Myself as well, I supposed. But I couldn't help it. She was a rare find, a jewel in the desert.

"Maybe you should make a play for me," she challenged.

I stopped, momentarily caught off guard. But I wasn't put off. "Maybe I should," I retorted. She snorted with amusement, clearly writing off our whole exchange as nothing more than meaningless flirting.

We found an outcrop by a stream, and ate our lunch. She talked some more about the wildlife and about this instructor that turned her onto the natural world. And then I listened to her talk about her recent show, and how important it was to get picked up by this particular gallery.

"I'm a fairly respected writer in the Seattle area. I could maybe write something about your show, or talk to some of the northern galleries when I get back home."

"Sure, that would be great," she replied, though her enthusiasm was dampened.

"Is anything wrong? You seem down," I asked, sensing a subtle shift in her mood.

"I don't like the idea of you heading back." she admitted. "I enjoy your company."

A silence fell over us, as I thought about what she'd just admitted to. As I mulled over a response, I became aware of the buzzing of insects, and the occasional bird song. I was becoming more attuned to my surroundings. "I enjoy yours, too, Steph. Look, let's not talk about that now. I haven't even booked a flight back yet, and the last thing I want to do is put a damper on this beautiful day we're having."

She nodded and smiled at me. I leaned over and rubbed her shoulder. "I'm just a little curious," I began, changing the subject. "Why have you never ended up with someone? You've been single all this time?"

"I am totally into being an artist and into hiking, and if someone wants to be part of that world, then I'm open to a relationship. Maybe it could develop into something meaningful, though it never has. And I'm okay with that."