As the Crow Flies, page 22
Gwen had never examined the painting from that perspective. The oneness of woman and crow was astonishing, really, and watching the rich exchange of emotion between a crow and the woman here with her today was astonishingly beautiful.
Chapter Twenty
With half the van full from a successful furniture hunt, Liz and her mother reached the speedway just in time to see a blue-and-white Sprint Cup style car zooming around the track. Craig was sitting in front of the bleachers beside a younger man.
“Hey, guys,” Gina called.
“Oh my God, Dad. Is that Isabel?”
“Yep. She’s riding shotgun with Robert.”
Rob was Craig’s close friend and a professional driver. Liz had known him all her life. “How fast are they going?” she yelled from where she stood.
“Around a hundred and thirty. Maybe more. She’ll drive next, with Rob coaching her through the two-way open-mic radio. You know the drill. You’ve driven with me,” he said as Liz and Gina made their way down to them.
“Hey, gorgeous!” said the guy next to Craig.
Liz smiled, surprised to see him. “Hi, Brian.”
“I was talking to your mother.” He winked at Gina.
“Hey, slow your roll, cowboy,” Craig warned him.
“Oh, so it’s like that, huh?” Liz played along with Brian. He was in his thirties and had worked for Craig since graduating from high school. He’d also spent most of his twenties in love with Liz, until one day she had to set him straight. Unlike other assholes who would have insisted she just needed to be with the right guy, Brian respected that she was attracted only to women and had moved on.
He hugged her. “Eh, I guess you’re sort of gorgeous, too, even if you do look like this one over here,” he said, pointing a thumb at Craig.
“Uh-huh,” said Craig. “And maybe I should tell them that you’ve been hitting on Isabel all morning.” He looked at Gina and Liz. “Rob and I had to threaten to lock him in the trunk of a stock car if he didn’t behave.”
“Oh, really?” Liz still had Brian in an embrace when her father said this, and she slid a hand around to the back of his head, grabbed a handful of his long, blond hair, and pulled back just hard enough to make him squeal. “Keep your paws off my friend and be a gentleman. You hear me?”
“Okay, okay. Ouch!” He laughed, but when she let go, he quickly rubbed his scalp. “I didn’t know she was taken.”
“Well, now you do.” She squeezed his cheeks in one hand. “So go find your own girl to marry before you lose those good looks of yours.”
Liz settled next to her mother and watched as the race car rocketed flag to flag two more times. When it stopped, she ran down onto the track.
Isabel got out wearing a helmet and a zippered jumpsuit, and Liz shrieked with delight. “Oh my God, you are so fucking adorable.”
“Hey, I heard that. Watch that mouth of yours.” Gina scolded her from where she sat.
Liz laughed with delight as Isabel removed her helmet, her straight and shiny dark hair spilling out and falling into perfect place. “You really are fucking adorable,” she repeated in a hushed voice only Isabel could hear.
Isabel grinned. “My jumpsuit’s a little big, though.”
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Brian said, coming up from behind. And when Liz reached for his hair again he ducked out of arm’s reach. “Hey. I’m talking about the car, I swear. We did the detailing.”
Craig walked around the blue-and-white car, stroking it as if he were petting a live animal. “Yep, she’s a beauty, all right. I was explaining to Isabel that this is a spec car,” he said, “not your average stock car. Aside from slight variations in the body shape and engine, it’s built to NASCAR specifications.” He turned to Isabel with a big smile. “How was it?”
“Breathtaking! I mean, literally, we went so fast it almost took my breath away.” She looked at everyone and then at Robert as he got out of the car. “That was so awesome, Rob!”
“Then let’s get you in the driver’s seat and get ready for more awesome,” he said, coming around and taking off his helmet to kiss Liz hello. His short, stylish hair had turned completely white since she’d seen him last, and it made his blue eyes seem even bluer.
Isabel tugged Liz’s arm. “Could you get my cell phone out of my jacket over there and record me?”
“I’m way ahead of you, sweetheart. I have my mom’s video camera ready.”
“I’ll use the camera,” Gina said. “You take Isabel’s phone.”
Rob waited until the filming crew was ready, then buckled Isabel in the driver’s seat and checked her radio. “All right,” he said as he put his own helmet back on and got into the passenger seat. “You ready to unleash six hundred horsepower on the track?”
Obviously overjoyed, Isabel gripped the steering wheel. “Ready!”
“Go get ’em, kiddo,” Liz shouted as they all returned to the bleachers.
The shy, conservative, self-conscious Isabel was gone, and the new and improved Isabel was on fire, her adrenaline-fueled passion for racing stripping her reserve. And somewhere in all of it, Liz was convinced that one day she’d strip Isabel’s latent passion for women as well.
Liz and her mother began filming as one of Rob’s crew members gave the thumbs-up and the green flag flew. Isabel hit the pedal to the metal, and the V8 roared down the track.
Eight laps around the oval Magic Mile, and Isabel topped out at almost 120 mph. And while Isabel unleashed horsepower, Liz learned what it took to unleash Isabel. Most women she’d known needed only a drink to loosen them up; Isabel needed a ride in a race car.
When it was all over, Isabel was presented with a detailed lap-time sheet and printout of her top speed, and Craig thanked his good buddy for giving them this private time on the track.
“Next time,” Rob said, “you’ll share the track with other cars and get to experience some side-by-side racing.”
Yeah, next time, Liz thought. Hopefully there would be many next times.
On the way back to the cabin, Gina rode with Liz so Isabel could ride with Craig in his vintage Dodge Charger. Liz drove behind him, following the car to a popular roadside clambake. Craig fought to pick up the tab, but Isabel absolutely insisted on treating them all to dinner. On a picnic table overlooking a lake, they feasted on clams, chowder, Maine lobster, and corn, and talked about cars, mostly. Liz was amazed at how much Isabel had learned about car mechanics in one afternoon: acceleration and braking, driving lines, track geography. And she asked Craig all about rally racing.
“It’s one thing to be a circuit driver who’s been around the same track a thousand times,” he said, “and quite another to be a rally racer covering five to two hundred miles of unfamiliar terrain—old logging and forest roads, closed public roads, mountain passes—any surface in any kind of weather. And rally cars, mind you, have to be street-legal. Nothing like you drove today. Lots of Fords, Chevys, Mitsubishis, and Subarus, like the WRX I always use. And then there’s your co-driver, who uses a route book and some computerized equipment to guide the driver by describing conditions and obstacles ahead—intersections, trees, cliffs, and so on. Can’t win without a co-driver, and you might likely kill yourself without one. Rally racing is a team effort.”
“I’d love to do that,” Isabel said with conviction.
Liz and her mother looked at each other. They had been starving and were happy to eat while Isabel and Craig talked, but Gina had had enough. “Okay, you two, if I hear the word car one more time today, I’m going to shoot myself.”
Liz laughed. “Isabel has discovered a new passion, so you know I’m going to hear it all night long.”
“Listen, I don’t know what you ladies have planned,” Gina said as they finished eating, “but your father and I are going home to take care of Zoe, and then to watch fireworks at nine o’clock. You want to join us?”
“We have to get back to the dogs, too,” Liz said. “We’ve left them for six hours, so I think we’ll just hang out on the water and let them play.”
Isabel couldn’t thank Craig and Gina enough for her day at the track, and when they parted, Gina hugged and kissed her. “I have a hunch we’ll be seeing more of you.”
“I hope so,” Isabel said.
On the way back to the cabin Liz made a quick stop at the liquor store for tequila and mixer, and another one at the general store for avocados and limes.
After the dogs were fed, Isabel took them out back to play ball and explore the sandy shore while Liz made margaritas and guacamole with chips, and carried everything out to a table between the two lounge chairs on the dock. And at Isabel’s request, Liz went back for the bottle of tequila, shot glasses, a salt shaker, and two wedges of lime.
“Do you want a sweatshirt?” Liz called out to her.
“No, I’m okay,” Isabel called backed back.
They had changed into shorts and T-shirts, but it was getting cool, and Liz threw on a hoodie.
Isabel had spread a beach towel on the dock and given the dogs rawhide bones. She watched Liz fill the shot glasses and get ready to suck a lime wedge. “You’re doing it all wrong,” Isabel said, an amused expression on her face.
“Am I?”
“Lick, slam, suck.”
“Mmm…” Liz waggled her eyebrows. “I like it when you talk dirty.”
“I’m not talking—” Isabel hesitated, seeming to grow self-conscious for the first time all day. “It’s just the proper way to drink tequila, that’s all. Make a fist,” she said, and poured salt in the web of Liz’s thumb. “Lick the salt, slam the shot, suck the lime.”
Liz watched Isabel demonstrate and then copied her. “Mmm…so that’s the order of things, huh? Works well.”
“Most gringos suck the lime first.”
“Ha! Well, this gringo is happy to follow your lead.”
Isabel tasted her drink and looked at her. “You do make a perfect margarita, though. And your guacamole is outstanding.”
“Why, thank you.” Liz relaxed in her lounge chair as Isabel took her glass and walked to the edge of the dock. Across the water, beyond the line of evergreens and between the tall silver trunks of beech trees, the summer sun leaked its fiery palette of pink, rose, and golden yellow into the pre-dusk sky. Liz had witnessed a thousand sunsets from this very spot, but now it was the sight of Isabel against those brilliant streaks of color that captured her attention.
Isabel put her free hand on her hip and stared out at the landscape. Evidently the adrenaline rush from racing had her still too pumped to sit still. “Driving today was so incredible,” she said, her back to Liz.
Isabel’s body was incredible. Liz let her eyes graze over it, taking in the soft outline of muscles in her bare arms, the light golden-brown skin of those lean and shapely legs. As the tequila kicked in, Liz started feeling frisky. She wanted to come up from behind, run her hands over Isabel’s tight little ass, wrap her hands around her waist. Lick, suck…she’d drink Isabel like a shot of tequila. She imagined taking her into the shower…then into the bedroom. Maybe she’d gently tie Isabel’s wrists to the headboard, just tight enough to secure them and make her squirm with anticipation. She pictured herself between Isabel’s legs, pushing them wide apart, and not letting her close them until Isabel came in her—
“I love your parents,” Isabel said.
“Huh?” Liz said, although the word came out sounding more like a moan. Her shorts felt suddenly tight, and she pulled at the crotch, reached for her drink, trying to shake off her arousal.
“Your parents.” Isabel turned around. “They’re so wonderful.” The tequila seemed to be relaxing her, and she stretched out in a lounge chair beside Liz. “Your mom’s beautiful, and your dad’s very handsome. You look just like him.”
“If that’s a third-person compliment, I’ll take it.”
“If you want a direct compliment,” she said shyly, and without looking over at Liz, “you’re as pretty as he is handsome.”
Pretty enough to kiss? Liz wanted to ask. But she didn’t. The last thing she needed was Isabel thinking Liz had brought her here to seduce her. Isabel would feel trapped. She’d probably want to go home, and the rest of the weekend would be uncomfortable for both of them. Liz would behave and do what she’d never done before, which was to get to know a woman before she slept with her. And really, she wanted to know what made Isabel tick, wanted to know all about her—past, present, plans for the future. “What about your parents? I understand you work with your father…and that you lost your mother long ago.”
Isabel poured them another shot of tequila. “I did. I was four when she died in a plane crash.”
“Four is very young. Do you remember her?”
“I’m not sure. I know that sounds terrible, but I really don’t know. I have pictures, scenes in my head…but I don’t know how many are actual memories. My mother was a photographer. She took hundreds of photographs of all of us, herself included. So sometimes I wonder if my mind has created false memories from constantly looking at photo albums throughout my childhood. I do remember her perfume, though.” She looked over at Liz. “Did you know that human infants recognize their mothers by their smell? It’s how most animals forge immediate ties with their mothers…maybe with the exception of birds, who have a pretty poor olfactory sense.”
“That’s so interesting,” Liz said, zippering her hoodie and stuffing her hands into the pockets. “So how would you describe your mother’s scent?”
“Like sunshine and orange blossoms and spice. I’d have to ask my father the name of the fragrance she wore. He kept that last bottle for a long time. Sometimes, when I was little, I’d walk into his room at night and catch him spraying it on his wrist and holding it to his nose. He’d just say he missed her and would let me smell, too. I’m not sure what he did with that bottle, but knowing my father, he still has it.”
“He never remarried?”
“He is married. He didn’t date again until I finished high school, or at least not that I knew of. Years later my aunt told me that he was adamant about not bringing women to the house for fear that I’d think he was betraying my mother or putting another woman before me. So, I had my father and I had Gwen. And Jean, Gwen’s girlfriend, too. Gwen’s really been a mother to me.” Isabel stopped to pour them both another shot and sat back again. “And then when I was first in college he met Shelia, the art director of the advertising agency that handled the Laraway account. They married while I was in the MBA program at NYU, and now they live in the Hudson Valley near our corporate office. Sheila’s a very nice person, very sincere. She makes my father happy, and she’s always treated me well.”
Liz was so glad that Isabel, perhaps under the influence of tequila, was opening up about her personal life. “Well, I’m sure that through it all, your mother has been with you in spirit.”
“I don’t think so,” Isabel said as they watched two black-and-white loons quietly swimming and diving for fish, too far from shore to see their red eyes.
“No?” Liz asked.
“No. I know people like to talk themselves into believing their departed loved ones are with them in spirit, protecting and watching over them like angels. It’s a nice sentiment, I suppose, but I’ve never once felt my mother’s presence. One day she was here with me, the next day she was gone. I’ve never felt anything but her absence.”
Liz’s heart broke for the little girl who had lost her mother, and she wished Isabel would come to her and sit between her legs so she could just wrap her arms around her.
Isabel turned and faced her then, but Liz could hardly see her in the fading light. The dogs had finished their bones and treats, and Loosey was fast asleep on the beach towel, but Blue was still awake, sitting near the edge of the dock, staring at the water and the distant loons.
“What do you imagine Blue thinks about?” Liz asked.
“Hard to say. She stares off into space a lot, sometimes for hours. I’m never sure if she’s caught up in philosophical meditations or meditative stupors.”
Liz laughed and checked her watch. It was nine o’clock, and the temperature was quickly dropping as fast as the light was fading, a thick, swirling fog forming over the water and obliterating their view of the loons.
“Holy smoke!” Isabel said. “When did that fog roll in? It wasn’t there a minute ago.”
“That’s what happens when the temperature drops so fast and the water is warmer than the air. I told you it gets cold up here at night. Believe it or not, campers, hikers, and even elderly people who wander off can suffer from hypothermia in Maine, even in summer.”
“Wow…it’s really spooky. I love the gloaming, here especially.”
“The gloaming?”
Isabel nodded. “Twilight.” And then she sat and pointed at the bats flying low over the water, flitting in and out of the fog, searching for a mosquito dinner.
Some people would have thought the sight before them looked like a scene from a horror movie, and it did, but Isabel was enchanted. And so was Liz. But she was freezing, too. “Time to go inside, Isabel. I’m cold. I don’t know how you can sit out here without a hoodie.”
“I’m starting to feel it now.”
They carried everything back inside, grabbed a flashlight, and took the dogs for a quick walk around the front of the cabin. On the way back in, Liz checked the outdoor thermometer. Fifty-two degrees.
Liz took a shower first, and while Isabel was in there, Liz got out extra blankets and left one on a chair in Isabel’s room. The dogs had already jumped up on the bed, both of them as excited as little kids to be staying in a cabin in the woods. But when Isabel came out of the bathroom in a nightshirt, she quickly apologized and tried to call them off the bed.
Liz stopped her. “Where do they sleep at home?”
“With me,” said Isabel.
“Then leave them be. They’re my guests, and I won’t have them sleeping on the hard floor.” She turned back to the dogs. “Isn’t that right, you sweet little babies?” They looked at each other and then at Liz, their eyes twinkling in wholehearted agreement as they rolled onto their backs for the belly rubs Liz proceeded to give them.
