There was a sorrow in her voice that touched him. “Well, I don’t have that problem, and I don’t get many invitations. I’ve always been busy, and away a lot. It’s hard to make friends that way, or—or to keep a family.” Eric looked down at his hands.
There was a pause, then, “I’ve never been married, or had any family other than my father,” said Nataly. “My mother died when I was very small; I don’t remember her, but I look like her. Father used to say that. He missed her terribly.”
“And you miss him?”
“Yes, I never felt alone when he was here.”
“Some people like to be alone. I thought I was one of them until my wife left me. I miss my daughter, too. I wasn’t there while she grew up, and so she didn’t want me at her wedding. I wouldn’t want me there, either. I know I can’t do anything about it, now, but I wish things had been different. And it’s my fault, all of it.”
Eric jumped when Nataly leaned over and put a hand on his. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He didn’t move his hand, felt her warmth flowing into it. He smiled, and said, “This is no time to hear my sad story.”
“I disagree. Anytime is good. Stories get less sad with the telling, and we all have them. Do you believe in auras, Eric?”
“No. It’s another new age thing.”
“Well, I can see yours. It’s quite clear against the dark background out here, a touch of red, but mostly blue. I saw it the first time I met you, and it hasn’t changed.”
Eric bit his tongue, avoiding an answer that might offend her. Nataly leaned closer, her hand still on his. “I want you to do something for me tonight.”
“What is it?” he asked, and looked into the dark depths of her eyes.
“Tonight I want you to put aside what has happened in the past. Tonight there are only the two of us, good food and drink and pleasant conversation. I want to know the real you, Eric, without the sadness, without the dangers you see in life.”
“Dangers?”
“It’s in the aura, all of it, the fear, the vigilance. I want you to let go of it, just for a while. I know you don’t believe this, but humor me.” She lowered her chin, and smiled a smile that made his heartbeat quicken. He felt a warmth creep up his arm to his shoulder, and over to his chest.
“Okay,” he said, “but only to humor you.”
She patted his hand, and withdrew her own. “Good,” she said. “Now, tell me how you became involved in the art world. Are you an artist yourself?”
“Hardly. I’m too left-brained for that. I’m better with numbers, statistics, that sort of thing. I have an M.B.A. I’ve done some actuary work. After the divorce I wanted something new that would keep me in one place. I met Leon through a friend, and he got me into sales. I’ve had to learn a lot about art in a hurry.”
“And here you are,” said Nataly. Her eyes seemed to change shape when she smiled.
“This town—this place, it still seems unreal to me.” Eric gestured at the dark spires of Cathedral Rock as he said it.
“There are many mysteries here,” said Nataly.
“Oh, I’ve been reading about those. I’ve even thought about looking up Bob Terrell, the guy who wrote some of the books. I hear he lives uptown.”
“I know Bob well,” said Nataly. “He often signs books in my shop. I can introduce you to him.”
“As long as he understands I’m not a believer.”
“What, in UFOs?”
“In all of it: UFOs, hidden portals to other dimensions, angels, the whole bit. People see something strange, and then their imaginations run away with them.”
“If you’ve read the books, you’ve seen the photographs.”
“Could be fakes, or real phenomena, I don’t know, but it’s all become mixed up with new-age commercialism.”
“Including auras, and crystal resonances?” Nataly said softly.
Eric suddenly realized he was treading on dangerous ground. “More phenomena that could be real or faked. I’ve heard of respectable scientists who claim to have seen auras, but I’ve never held a crystal in my hand and felt anything other than rock. I know crystals can have vibrational resonances; we used to use them in radios. It’s the idea of resonances tuned to a person that I find hard to believe. I’d have to have physical proof to be convinced.”
“I’ll take that as a challenge,” said Nataly, and her eyes sparkled with delight. “You’ve just told me some things I can use to entertain you after dinner. Would you like another beer?”
“I’m fine,” he said, then, “I’m curious about your house. It must be custom built.”
That was good for ten minutes of conversation without Eric having to think of anything clever to say. It was also informative. Nataly’s father had not been some rich industrialist. He’d arrived in Sedona in the forties, a kid with a few dollars in his pocket. He’d worked for a grower for several years, living a Spartan existence, bought land and become a grower himself. By the time he met Nataly’s mother Maria he had a hundred acres of fruit trees and grapes, and had purchased the property overlooking Cathedral Rocks. Maria was part German, part Havasupai. She was barely out of high school and working in a grocery store when her itinerant family moved on without her. For Nataly’s father Donald it had been love at first sight. For Maria it had been survival first, then love. They were married after a courtship of three months, but Nataly had come along much later. She grew up in a doublewide mobile home where her mansion now stood, went to school in Sedona, some college in Prescott, then home again to start her business.
“You’ve lived your entire life in Sedona?”
“Yes,” she said, and then, as if reading his mind, “All that I know about the world has come from schooling and reading. I’ve felt no need to travel, but it might be interesting someday.”
“I’ve traveled in business, spent most of my time in meetings and hotel rooms, alone, and little time for sight seeing. Traveling on vacation, without appointments or even a cell phone is the way to go.”
The servant arrived to announce dinner. Eric moved quickly to slide her chair back as she stood. Again, she hooked her arm in his and walked him to the dining room. Two places facing each other had been set at the end of the massive oaken table that seated fourteen. Small salads awaited them. They sat. In candlelight, Nataly’s eyes seemed amber, her arms copper and glowing.
“I wish you could have met my father,” she said suddenly.
The tone of her voice when she said it made Eric’s face flush, and he hoped she didn’t see it in the dim light.
“Being missed so much is a tribute to the person. I’ve never experienced that.”
“He’s only been gone four years. To this day we don’t know the cause. Some kind of rapidly developing pneumonia that killed him overnight. He was a healthy man.”
“Did you have an autopsy done?” Eric felt a crawling in his stomach, but took a bite of salad and chewed thoughtfully.
“Yes. There was no sign of viral or bacterial infection. The doctors were mystified. They say he died of natural causes, but can’t tell me what they were.”
Her eyes hadn’t left his since they’d been seated, and she hadn’t taken a bite of food or even lifted a fork. “What else could it be?” he asked.
Nataly smiled meekly. “Delusions of a daughter who can’t accept the death of a father she thought would live forever. I even thought of murder, but who would want to kill a retired man who spent a lifetime growing fruit? I was silly with grief at the time.”
Now Nataly began eating, and didn’t look at him. She took two bites, then said softly, “It was only weeks later when we began hearing reports of strange sounds and lights in the canyons. People were reminded of the military base rumors from twenty-five years before, and I found myself trying to connect it somehow with my father’s death. I’d driven myself to the edge of something very dark, and dangerous. I sought help with several spiritual practitioners in town, and began meditations. It brought me back from a bad place, and I’m grateful for it. Do you practice any kind of meditation, Eric?”