Sedona Conspiracy. James C. Glass
“Eric,” he said, and made eye contact.
“Eric. You have such interesting eyes. I’d like to read them sometime.”
“Read them?”
“Iridology. Several of us are practitioners here.”
Her gaze was direct and intense; she was studying him.
“You’re a forceful person. I see a suggestion of danger, and there’s a sense of sadness. I see so much of that, the things people do to hurt each other.”
“That’s life,” he said, and heard the bitterness in his own voice.
“You’re alone, or at least you think you are.” Her voice was a near whisper.
Eric bit down hard on his sandwich. “I was married, but it ended in divorce. My only daughter will be married soon, and I’m not invited to the ceremony. I probably deserve it. Hurt goes both ways.”
“I’m sorry,” said Nataly. “But there’s goodness in everyone.”
“How about you? Anything personal isn’t any of my business, of course, but you must have an active social life with your position in the community.”
Nataly rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, lots of parties, and flirting, and offers to satisfy my wildest desires. I’ve been tempted more than once. People like to say I’m too particular, that I’m going to grow old alone, but they’re wrong. I’m just patient about finding the right man.”
“Good advice for anyone. Divorce is nasty,” he said.
“I can see that.” She reached over and touched his arm. For a moment, her hand lingered there. “If you open your mind to them, many healing arts are available to you here. I can show you some of them, if you like.”
Again, a slight smile came to his face without thought. He felt suddenly relaxed in the presence of this woman, without the sense of being judged or threatened. God, she is lovely. “If you want to take a chance with a pragmatist, sure. I’m told I’m a professional skeptic.”
Nataly smiled then, and brushed back errant strands of black hair from the side of her face. “Any good student asks questions on the road to truth.”
Eric shook his head slightly in wonderment.
“What?” she asked, and now she really smiled, and he felt a shortness of breath.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he managed.
“Ah, then I’m an adventure. Tea?” She held up the ceramic pot where tea had been brewing, and arched an eyebrow at him.
“Sure, why not. I’ve become addicted to coffee.”
Nataly poured. “Nice aroma, but too acidic. I love both the tastes and scents of tea. I think it’s important to stimulate all the senses.” As she said it she handed a cup of tea to him, one finger absently touching the back of his hand. “I believe in balance in everything. That’s not easy for me to do in my position. People see me as a wealthy party giver and patron of the arts, and I’m more than that.”
“Yes, you are.” My God, did I just say that? The uncontrolled blush that came to his face instantly dismayed Eric.
Nataly’s smile softened then. Her eyes widened, and fixed on his. “I like you, Eric. I don’t really know why yet, but I’d like the opportunity to find out. I know you’ve been hurt in the past, and the hurt is still there, but you seem willing to take a risk in coming here. You’ve seen me in my castle, and now in my little shop. What do you think?”
“I think you’re fascinating,” he said, and felt good about saying it.
“And you intrigue me. We should meet again. Do you like exotic foods, or are you a meat ’n’ potatoes man?”
“My tastes vary. I’ve been around the world some.”
“I’ll want to hear all about that. My chef is German, but he can do anything European. My house, say seven a week from this Friday? Casual dress, and just the two of us.”
“Sounds nice. I’ll call you here if some business thing comes up.” Eric had no idea what hours he’d be spending at the base. Friday at seven he could be a hundred feet underground.
Nataly thrust out her lower lip in a pout. “Oh, that would be a shame if money matters interfered with our dinner. I’ll leave that decision to you. For now, Marie must be getting hungry, and I have to take my turn at the counter, and you have to go.” She pointed at her watch.
He’d been in her shop over an hour, yet it seemed they’d only talked for minutes. “You’re right. I’m late.”
“If Leon scolds you, tell him it was my fault. He plays the bon vivant, but I’m sure he can be very hard when he wants to be. Don’t forget your books.”
He’d nearly walked away from the books she’d loaned him. He retrieved them, said, “Thanks again.” His mind went blank, his feet refusing to move until Nataly took his arm and escorted him to the door. She waved goodbye, and disappeared from view.
Eric drove back to his office, feeling the giddiness of a juvenile anticipating his first date, and seeing nothing strange about it at all. The euphoria lasted all day and through the evening. By bedtime he was feeling a bit silly about it, and managed to go over his report one final time.
It was likely a mistake to do that, because his sleep was restless all night. He had dreams of Leon shouting at him, and Davis pointing a pistol at him and accusing him of being a spy. Towards morning, Nataly appeared in a vivid dream that woke him up. He remembered sitting up in bed. The lights were low, and dark shadows were moving around the room, circling him, and then the door burst open and Nataly was standing there like an angry angel, shouting, “Get out! All of you get out of this room right now!” And the shadows fled.
When he was awake, sweating, he was certain he could smell her musky scent in the room.
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