The Middle of Somewhere(30)

“Twenty-one.”

“Well, old enough anyway.”

“Claire said she’d take care of your tux.”

“She’s a fine gal, your mother.”

“Yeah, you guys are the best.”

? ? ?

When Russ showed up for the wedding, Liz saw he had gained a few pounds since she and Claire had last seen him and wriggled uncomfortably in his tux. Liz concentrated on Gabriel as they inched down the aisle, ignoring Russ’s stately nods at the guests, all strangers to him. When Russ handed her off to Gabriel, her groom winked at her and the second chapter—the better chapter—of her life began.

After the ceremony, they rode in a limo to the hotel reception, where she weathered the obligatory father-daughter dance. He wasn’t a bad waltzer. As the song wound down, he reached into his pocket and slipped a folded hundred-dollar bill into her hand.

“For you and Gabe. Get yourselves a little something.”

“Um, thanks,” she said. “But I don’t have anywhere to put this.”

“Oh, you’ve got lots of places. Aren’t you wearing a garter? Or just put it . . .” He tucked two fingers down the top of his vest, then pointed at her chest, wrapped in white satin. “You know.”

“Wow, Russ. You must go to some fun weddings.”

“You bet I do. See you later.” He searched out Claire and finagled a dance. The sight of Russ and Claire slow-dancing was surreal, as if the people in the photos that came with a picture frame had shown up in her life.

When all the formalities were over, Gabriel followed Liz up to their suite so she could change out of her gown. He poured her a glass of champagne and undid, one by one, the thirty-two covered buttons on her spine. The bodice of the dress fell forward.

“Thank God,” she said. “Now I can eat.”

He cupped his hands over her breasts and nibbled her neck. “Me, too.”

She leaned against him and moved his hands into an embrace. “Hey, husband.”

“Hey, wife.”

“We should get back into the fray before they start spreading rumors about us.”

“Yeah, and you should get some food.” He released her. She stepped out of the dress and he took her glass while she changed. “I wanted to ask you something. Quinn and Pablo and some of the other guys are playing Ultimate in the morning. They want me to come.”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.”

“As in the morning after our wedding?”

He finished off her drink and shrugged. “I know. But most of them are leaving right after the breakfast.”

“You’ll see them there.” She tucked her blouse into her skirt. “They’re all invited.”

“Yeah, but a little Frisbee with the guys . . .”

Liz slipped her feet into her flats and stood.

“You look nice,” he said. “So, are we cool about tomorrow?”

She wished he hadn’t asked. How could she tell him not to see his friends? But she wasn’t about to start her married life yanking a leash. “Sure. Now lead the way to the buffet.”





CHAPTER TEN





Liz and Dante stopped for a drink at Virginia Lake, a sapphire expanse with a broad, open eastern shore and rimmed on the far end by the Cascade Range. Horsetail clouds filled the sky like waves upon an ocean. The formation usually meant good weather, but Liz kept an eye on the clouds all the same.

They reached Tully Hole, an enormous meadow dotted with chest-high corn lilies. Fish Creek snaked through the amber grasses. The heat rose with them as they climbed steeply out of the valley, the creek babbling alongside. Over their heads, the horsetails fled and flat-bottomed cumulus clouds moved in. They arrived at Squaw Lake in the early afternoon and set down their packs.

A jaylike bird, gray as granite with crisp, black wings, emitted a harsh squawk from atop a stunted pine.

Liz asked Dante, “Who’s the loudmouth?”

“Nucifraga columbiana.”

Her mind searched through the Latin roots. “Nut fragmenter from the land of Columbus?”

“Yes! Clark’s nutcracker. It buries nuts from pinecones in the fall, then digs them up even before the snow melts in the spring.”

“You do know how weird it is that you know everything about birds and yet you yourself are rarely found in nature.”

He shrugged. “Blame my uncle. Every summer I spent a month with him in Monterrey. The coolest room in the house was the library, and the only interesting books—to a kid—were his bird guides. He had dozens.”