Chapter 30

I was up to greet the sun in the morning, having slept better, now that the Everett Miller fiasco was over, Marcus was in good health, and tomorrow should be a normal school day. I was also excited to be going on my first date in longer than I cared to admit, and with a very handsome physician at that. Maybe the edge was taken off just a tad, by the ease with which Roger Ramie’s black hair and piercing blue eyes had supplanted Russ Harley’s gentler face on my dream-world cowboy. But dreams are just dreams, and in the real world, Roger had only monosyllabically agreed to give me riding lessons, while Russ had invited me to spend a day in the mountains. For now, advantage Russ, and I planned to enjoy it. I packed a nice wine and cheese picnic lunch, mostly from items purchased in Denver. Such exotic fare was largely unobtainable in Otis.

With the punctuality you’d expect from a surgeon used to maintaining a frenzied schedule, I heard a car outside, almost to the minute of the appointed time. The exhaust hinted at something more interesting than a family sedan. I went outside and saw Russ climbing out of an immaculate canary yellow Porsche 914.

“My God, it’s beautiful, Russ!” I exclaimed delightedly. “It looks like it rolled off the line this morning, but the 914’s been out of production for what, 10 years?”

He beamed proudly, like any car enthusiast when his baby is appreciated. “Longer than that; this is a ‘76, the last year they were made. For my money, nothing produced since has been as much fun to drive.”

For my money, he was right. The perfect balance of the 2 liter mid-engine made it a delightfully nimble car to drive, especially in the mountains. I know, because Russ let me do the lion’s share of the driving. We spent the day at the Rocky Mountain National Park, about two and a half hours away. I finally understood what John Denver was carrying on about. It was indeed spectacular country, almost an exact opposite of my beloved Low Country. But then, it was pretty near opposite Otis as well.

Russ is athletic and, like me, chomping at the bit to stretch some muscles and work up a good sweat. The park has over 350 miles of hiking trails and some of the best passed beneath our boots. The grades were a good bit more challenging than I was used to, even in the Smokies, but the visual payoff was greater too. We had our picnic in an isolated aspen grove by a crystal clear pool that Russ had found on a previous trip. We were stretched out, sipping a decent Riesling I had chilled in the spring. Even in the mountains, it was a very hot day.

I looked over at the sparkling water. “That water looks so inviting,” I said wistfully, “but I felt it when I put the wine in, and it’s just too cold.”

“The stream is too cold,” he replied. “It’s melted glacier, but the water in the pool is trapped long enough for the sun to warm it up to bearable.”

“Well, what in hell are we sitting here sweating for?”

Russ shrugged haplessly. “Didn’t think to pack bathing suits.”

I looked at him in surprise. “Well aren’t we the shy one? For God’s sake, Russ, you’re a doctor, so I reckon you’ve seen a naked woman before. If not, shut your eyes, because I’m going in.”

I grew up in a family with a casual attitude towards nudity, plus I lived on the beach half-naked most of the time. Taking my clothes off in front of him wasn’t that big a deal for me. In fact, I have just enough of an exhibitionist streak to enjoy it. And a guy’s a guy, MD or not. By the time I finished my little strip-tease, got in the pool and turned around, I caught Russ heading towards the water, and he was packing a decent nascent erection. Shameless hussy that I am, I just sat there and enjoyed the view. Some women don’t care to see male nudes, and some do. I do. When he saw my gaze, he colored slightly but didn’t do any coy covering up and joined me in the pool.

“Well, I guess I just blew my shy and modest maiden image all to hell,” I said laughing.

“Yeah, pretty much, but I never was all that fond of shy and modest maidens anyway.”

Russ was great company, and I thoroughly enjoyed the day. By the time we got home that evening, I was sure I wanted him to be my friend. I was less sure if I wanted him to be more. Right up to the front door, I still hadn’t decided whether to invite him in, something I usually knew before I left the driveway. In the end, I settled for the thoroughly unsatisfying compromise of using the upcoming school day as an excuse to settle for some passionate lip wrestling on the front stoop. It was like high school all over again. Trouble is, unlike most of the guys in high school, Russ Harley, M.D., is a good kisser, a very, very good kisser. So good it left me breathless and frustrated on the front stoop, watching the 914 drive away. Frustrated enough that I had several sleepless hours to ponder why the hell I hadn’t asked him in.

In the morning, I was up early, ready to tackle my first regular day as assistant principal. I’m not typically a big breakfast eater, unless Martha’s cooking, but yesterday’s hike had left me with a hearty appetite, so my first stop was the restaurant. Hazel knew to bring me a cup of hot tea without my even asking.

“Morning, Elizabeth,” she greeted me. “‘Mite early today; anxious to get started without having to run the whole show?”