[10] Early Artifacts

“So how’s this work?” Jim stowed their headsets carefully, then led Teri to the hangar’s secured door, his warm hand dizzingly distracting in the small of her back. “What do you need from me to help with dinner?”

“I’ll need to drop by the grocer.”

“Okay. I usually shop at the co-op near my house. Will that work?”

“That should do just fine.”

With twilight’s shadows lengthening fast through the winding red canyons, the warmth of the day was evaporating quickly and in Jim’s Jeep, Teri felt the cool air creeping in much faster than she might have in the Meep. It sensitized her skin, left it prickling faintly, and entirely too aware of Jim’s presence through the warmth of his hand on her thigh. Once returned to the city proper, the paved streets and clustered buildings retained the day’s heat longer, but her keen awareness of Jim didn’t fade.

At the local co-op, Jim pushed the small basket around behind her as Teri walked the narrow aisles, scanned the crowded shelves and open refrigerators, selecting what items she required for dinner, anxious that he’d enjoy the meal with her as another part of her consciousness wondered why she cared.

This isn’t your life. Your quietly anonymous life is hundreds of miles north of here with Zoe. And no one else. What could possibly come of this? That Jim would miraculously forgive you? Accept and love your daughter? Drop his whole life here to follow you? No. So do what you do best, Teri. Stick with your reptile brain and the four Fs and make the most of it.  

Behind her, Jim couldn’t take his eyes off her. It wasn’t merely that Teri was achingly lovely, and he loved looking at her—the fair skin an enchanting contrast to her dark brows and lashes, the dusty rose tone of her cheeks and seductive lips. He found himself obsessed with the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, the fuller curves of her figure, the thin tendons along the back of her hands. Each physical attribute so much like the woman he’d lost and at the same time made new by the passage of time.

He didn’t know how he was going to keep her from disappearing again, only that he was desperate to do so. The memory was all too vivid of the day he’d come home to their apartment to find her gone, with no word to anyone about where or how to find her. He paused as beside him, Teri stood tiptoe, stretching above her head for a small vial just out of her reach on the shelf.

Jim stepped close, fitting his body to hers and reaching over her. Bending his head, his mouth to her ear, he whispered. “This one?” the small vial in his hand kept out of reach. He felt the impact ripple over her, felt her melt against him. Felt her vulnerability. That he needed. If he had any chance of keeping her this time, he needed that more than anything.

It took only minutes to pay, and though she intended to get the groceries herself, Jim was insistent he’d pay for their dinner. In no time at all, the Jeep was snaking it’s way through town to her spot at the RV resort.

Pulling behind her car, Jim killed the engine. “I’ll grab the groceries. What else can I help you do?”

“It’s usually Zoe’s job, but Evie will need fed and to go out afterwards.” Teri glanced over her shoulder at Jim as she unlocked the RV door, surprised to see him shrug and nod.

“Seems like a job I can handle.”

While Teri unloaded their purchases and began to prepare their meal, Jim fed the dog, then harnessed and leashed her to wander the RV resort. It's a nice place, he thought, even though he'd never camped here. The kind of cushy place with all the cushy amenities both the retirees and the younger families wanted. He could see why Teri would select it.

The Sheltie walked obediently beside him, but each time Jim stopped, she would look up then back toward Teri’s RV.

“Do your business, sister, and we can go back,” he urged. “Believe me, nobody wants to keep an eye on her more than me.”

As if understanding, Evie sniffed about in a small circle, then squatted. When she was done, she looked up at Jim expectantly.

Jim peered at the dog, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Smart dog. All right.” He started towards Teri’s RV at a jog, and, as he’d seen her doing when he’d spied Teri running along the highway, Evie surged out in front of him at the length of the leash.

Savory aromas wafted out the RV door as he opened it, Evie springing inside without any command. He relaxed seeing Teri stacking dishes beside the sink, running water into the shallow foaming basin to wash. As if she might have abandoned her child and her home? Jim chastised himself for his paranoia.

“It’s warm in here now.” He knelt beside the dog to remove her lead and harness, then stood. Tucking himself close beside her, Jim nuzzled Teri’s neck, slipped his fingers under her t-shirt to caress a lazy tingling figure eight over her sensitive sacral nerves. “And smells really good.” His touch elicited a soft arousing sigh from her, and she melted against him, much to his satisfaction. Jim’s eager body reminded him in no uncertain terms that it still had unfinished business with this beautiful woman.

“I’m using the oven,” Teri managed in a distracted drawl, gesturing towards the windows. “I think if you open them on both sides, the cross draft should cool things off. If you’d rather, I can run the air, but it’s noisy.”

“I’ll get the windows.”

Jim worked his way from Teri’s bedroom to the cab, opening windows opposite each other before stopping at the over-cab bunk that was Zoe’s room. The anthropologist in him studied Zoe's private space as if it were an excavation site. He looked over her personal things, scattered about the sleeping area and on the unmade bed in disarray. “Wow. She’s got her own TV up here.”

Shuffling a handful of stacked books so he could read the titles, he paused, recognizing one by the worn and fraying cover, the yellowing pages. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d seen Teri reading it the last time they’d been together—this very copy, if his memory served. It had been among the possessions she had taken when she left him years ago. He held it up and looked toward her. “I remember this one.”

Teri paused washing the dishes, glancing up and reading the title. Her full lips parted in surprise, astounded he’d recognize and remember it. “It was a childhood favorite of mine. She loves it too.”

“Of course she does.”

Jim carefully tucked the books back where he’d found them. He scanned the few movie titles Zoe had, a bit surprised by her eclectic  taste before moving on to the wall-mounted organizer. Flipping through her sketchbook of drawings, he brushed his fingers over the pencils, markers and colored pencils that were clearly among her most prized possessions before landing on a small, tattered stuffed animal. Lifting it from the tangled covers, Jim ran his hand over its fluffy faux fur, straightened a floppy ear. He smiled. “This thing is cute as hell.” He held it out so Teri could see. “Who’s this?”

“Evie.”

On the sofa, the Sheltie’s head popped up expectantly.

Rinsing her last dish, Teri set it in the opposite sink to air dry with the others she’d washed. Reaching for a towel, she dried her hands, watching him study the stuffed animal.

“I thought the dog’s name was Evie.”

Teri chuckled. “It is. She’s named after the stuffed animal. And the stuffed animal is named after Zoe’s favorite anime pet.”

Jim looked at the stuffed animal then looked at the dog. Cream-colored ruff. Tan coat. Large brown eyes. Pointy ears. White tip on her tail. More variation in the actual Evie’s coat and her white ruff extended down her front legs, but, all in all, the stuffie was a fair approximation of the real thing. “Eh,” he nodded. “Not a bad call.”

He tucked the stuffed animal carefully in Zoe’s bed, then opened the windows at both ends of the bunk. “What other stuff does she like? What’re her favorite foods and colors? What’s she good at in school? She play a musical instrument or sports? Tell me about Zoe.”

He eased around Teri in the kitchen. Opening the few drawers of utensils one at a time, he scanned the contents until he located a corkscrew. Setting it on the counter, he worked his way through the cabinets. “Ah! I knew you’d have some. Is everything in here made of plastic?” he wondered aloud, setting two wine glass shaped cups made of sturdy plastic on the counter, then uncorked the white wine.

Rooted to her spot, Teri stared at him, stunned and a little panicky. He wants to know about Zoe! Why does he want to know about Zoe? She forced her answering words from her lips, hoping to deflect his interest in her daughter. “Except what I cook with, yes. Everything’s plastic. It’s lighter.”

Jim couldn’t imagine the small number of dishes the tiny kitchen could store possibly weighing more than a few pounds, but he had to admit, RVing wasn’t his wheelhouse. Selecting the white wine he’d brought the evening before, he pulled the cork. “You know I don’t care, right?” He poured the wine and handed Teri a glass, gesturing towards the sofa. “I wash in the river and eat with a pocketknife when I camp.” Flopping on the sofa, he patted the space beside him and laughed at Teri’s disgust.

Taking a seat, Teri immediately found herself dragged over to Jim by a strong arm about her waist and tucked against his wide chest, his arm settling about her shoulders. She bumped the lip of her cup against his, giggling at the look on his face at the dull pop it gave rather than a ring.

“You were telling me about Zoe.”

“What is it you want to know? She’s a little girl,” Teri took a sip from her cup, then continued evasively, “just like any other.”

“No child of yours is ‘like any other’,” Jim assured her. “Stop being so obscure. I know you’re a proud mommy. Tell me about your daughter.”

Letting her eyes wander the ceiling, Teri thought about Zoe and what she wanted to share. “She’s the light of my life. Her favorite color is blue. She loves boneless chicken wings and cake without frosting. Loves animals—even bugs.” Her lip curled in disgust. “She’s good at math and science. And art, which is her favorite. She likes soccer and baseball. Doesn’t play an instrument,” Teri shook her head, “but whistles like a bird. She’s an adventurer. A little adrenaline junkie. And no matter where she goes, she always makes a friend.” Returned from her reverie, Teri looked at Jim.

“Lot of that sounds like you.”

“I’m nowhere near as brave as her.” Teri laughed and shook her head. “I wouldn’t go on a three-day camping trip with a bunch of people I don’t know as an adult, let alone like she is now. For that matter, I might not go with a bunch of people I do know.”

Perhaps not, Jim thought. But Teri had packed her things and abandoned everything she knew for a life that was vastly different than anything she had known, anything Jim would ever have expected of her. That was astoundingly brave. “What camp is she attending? Did she pick it?”

“This one’s a canyoneering camp. Next week, it’s a rafting one. She wanted to do ziplining. Fortunately, she’s too young.” Teri took another sip from her cup, shifting to get more comfortable against Jim. “And yes, with guidance, she picked her camps.”

“I wouldn’t let her do the ziplining one even if she was old enough.” Jim shifted to accommodate her, snuggling Teri in closer so that everything from her shoulder to her knee was touching him. “I don’t like the way the guy runs his camp. She can’t do any of the UTV ones either. The rest of them are run by great people. Lot of them do search and rescue with me.”

“You know about the kids’ camps?” Stunned, Teri leaned forward to look him in the face

Jim shrugged, unfazed by her amazement. “Sure. Kids are great fun. I love chaperoning those camps. I used to take a lot of them out. Only do it occasionally now, usually when they need guides. What?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head in bewilderment. “It’s— helpful. I worry about her safety.” Among others, mine most notably right now, she thought.

She had no idea if it was the wine, or how naturally Jim seemed to fit himself to their life without knowing anything about it. Or at least anything she was aware of—he had used a tracking app to find her after all. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he'd been doing other reconnaissance she wasn't aware of. Still, even the skeptical part of her was questioning some long-held beliefs she’d taken as gospel before.

And that part was insistent she owed him answers. Not only to any question he would ask, but the truth about everything that had happened between them.

It’s not Jim’s job to absolve me. Not his responsibility to ease my conscience. The consequences of my choices are mine to suffer, Teri countered. Not Jim’s. Definitely not Zoe’s. Everyone is where they’re meant to be, even if she was starting to doubt they were happy there.

The stove timer sounded and Teri startled violently, her wine sloshing in her glass. Mercifully, Teri thought. Before I say something I’ll regret. She rose, crossing the small space to the oven. Silencing the timer, she turned the heat off and removed the baking pan of root vegetables and chicken.

“That. Smells. Fantastic.” Jim hovered behind her, inhaling deeply. “What can I do to help? You know, now that you’ve done everything.”

Teri chuckled. “Grab a couple plates, please?”

Retrieving two plates from the cabinet Teri indicated, Jim handed them to her, shaking his head with a smile. “More plastic.” He shuffled through the drawers, locating flatware. “I half expected it to be plastic too.” He set a fork on the plate she’d dished and handed to him. “This is great. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Teri scooped some vegetables onto her own plate. “It’ll sustain you, but I make no promises my cooking is good, let alone great.”

Setting a fork on her plate as she turned, Jim gestured towards the table, an impish smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Then I have to thank you now. Just in case.”

Teri’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, one brow arched at the ribbing. “Serve you right after that.” But the words were spoken with a smile. She took a seat at the table, sliding over when he gestured so he could take the seat beside her, instead of across.

Jim stared at the plate before him, the dinner Teri had planned and prepared.

“It’s not poisoned. I promise. Look.” She put a piece of chicken in her mouth, chewed and swallowed quickly.

He smiled, shaking his head and kissed her cheek. “It’s not that.” He put a bite in his mouth, chewing slowly and enjoying it. Teri’s self-deprecating comments were a lie—she was a fantastic cook and always had been. Jim kissed her cheek again. “You’re the last person who cooked for me.”

Shocked, Teri dropped her fork and it clattered to the plate. She fumbled trying to catch and silence it. How could that even be possible? Jim was young. Fit. Handsome. Smart. Funny. A veritable eligible bachelor. There had to have been other women. She couldn’t believe that after she’d left, he wouldn’t have returned to his girl-crazy ways. “Wh—why?”

Turning towards her, Jim studied Teri’s lovely face. Each curve, each line he’d etched in his memory. “Haven’t met anyone else I thought I wanted to.”

There was something entirely earnest in the bright ice blue depths of his eyes. Something powerful and sure and Teri caved under it. “Best eat before it gets cold.”

They tucked into their meal and for a few moments, the silence stretched taut and awkward between them.

What if you were wrong? What if all those years ago after—after—what if you misread him? But how else could she have interpreted his behavior besides that he didn’t want her anymore? He’d stopped having sex with her, even after the bruises had healed—stopped sleeping in the same bed. He wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t touch her. Yet here he was—from the instant he’d walked into the restaurant—wanting to know everything about her, wanting to be part of her day, no matter how minute and insignificant most parts of it were. And contradicting—not just in words, but actions—all the things she’d assumed were why back then, after—after—.

Beside her, Jim wondered if he’d gone too far. He had no idea why he’d said that to her—frankly, the realization was novel to him. He’d had plenty of opportunities with other women, but just like with Carla, each attempted relationship, if you could call them that at all, had felt pale, thin. Ill-fitted and unfulfilling. Which only made sense considering he’d been part of perfection, but why did that seem so strange to Teri? He still didn’t know why she’d left—not really. Could he have mistaken her feelings all those years ago? Keep digging and be patient, the antropologist in him reminded. There’s more to know, and the only place you’ll get it is her.

“Tell me about RVing.” Jim’s voice sounded too loud and too sudden in the gulf of silence still close around them. “You have to have some stories. Mishaps and adventures. Come on, tell me.”

A small smile tugged the corners of Teri’s full lips and she pushed her plate away, then took a sip from her wine.

As she tipped her head back, mentally searching for the stories she’d share, Jim slid out from beside her, and grabbing his glass, offered her a hand. When she followed him out of the kitchen booth, he plopped down on the sofa, dragging her too and snuggling her against him.

“Carry on,” he urged, thunking the ridiculous plastic wine glass against hers and laughing.

“We’ve had a few adventures,” she admitted, biting her bottom lip before continuing. “One long weekend we were at a busy camp in North Carolina. I’m sure you know most campgrounds have quiet hours,” Teri paused, waiting for his acknowledgement, “but for the holiday weekend, they were extended an hour each night. Since it was kind of noisy anyway, and there was still a lot of activity, I let Zoe stay up late to make smores. We built a fire in the firepit in our spot and were roasting marshmallows and talking. Out of the dark at the end of the RV, this guy appeared and stopped. At first, I thought he was one of the drunken partiers we could hear around us, that he was lost. But the longer he stared at us, the more I started to worry about his intentions. Then he walked up to the RV door and opened it like he owned it. Evie was inside and he stared at her and she stared at him, then trotted out and came to sit by me as he climbed in the RV and shut the door.”

“Your RV?” Jim laughed.

“Yes. We watched the windows light, then go off and a few minutes later he emerged and closed the door sheepishly. He looked over at us and said, ‘This isn’t my RV.’  When we shook our heads, he blushed so furiously we could see it in the dark. But the only other thing he said before he staggered away into the darkness was, ‘I put the toilet seat back down.’”

They chuckled together before Jim said bemusedly, “I wonder what made him realize it wasn’t his RV. Did you see him again?”

“No. The rest of the weekend was like any other.”

“That one’s awesome. What other camping stories do you have?” Jim watched as she smiled, considering. He tipped a sip of wine into his mouth, shocked and pleased to see hers lift, mirroring him. As body language went, it was a good sign. “Don’t hold out on me.”

“Ungh,” Teri groaned. “I want you to know, I’m telling you this against my better judgement.”

“Oooh.” Jim nuzzled her neck until she giggled, then took a sip of his wine, smiling when she did the same again. “Now I absolutely have to know.”

“Okay, okay.” Teri patted his knee placatingly. “The most humiliating one for me wasn’t when we were camping, but when we were driving. I had this awful contract in Texas—the client had system-wide camera security in every public room of the hospital, but the ops job that downloaded and moved the recorded images to the network storage location wasn’t working right. They hired me to fix the problem and retrieve the video and image files if I could.”

“Did you?”

With a deep sigh, Teri nodded, remembering all too clearly. “I did. HR wanted the video as evidence for terminating one of the lab pathologists—he’d been harassing women in his department and tried it with a vendor who turned him in.”

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t look at most of it—I just heard the whispered gossip around the hospital before the job was done.” Teri smiled at him reassuringly. “In any case, the contract fell over Zoe’s spring break, so it was a hard drive there and a hard drive back. At one point we were on this remote two-lane winding backroad through a bunch of vineyards. We hadn’t seen another vehicle for miles, but when we finally did come across a car, it was parked at a stop sign. So we waited behind it for a few minutes, but I didn’t want to honk, because I had no idea why they were stopped—maybe they were broken down or something, right?—so finally, I pulled the RV into the oncoming lane to go around. I stopped at the stop sign on the wrong side of the road. Which is when Zoe said, ‘Mommy, what are they doing?’ And when I looked over, the woman in the passenger seat of the car was leaned over the driver’s lap,” she nodded, smiling with him as Jim started to chuckle knowingly. “You got it—she was going to town. You couldn’t see anything except her head in his lap and his face, but still I was mortified.”

“Sweet Moses. How old was she?”

“Seven or eight.” Teri put one hand over her mouth, shaking her head.

“Did you answer?” Jim’s glacial blue eyes went wide. “What did you say?”

“I told her he must’ve dropped the keys and she was trying to reach them. It was the only thing I could think of in the moment.”

Jim exhaled through pursed lips. “You recovered faster than I would have. I’d probably have blurted out, ‘she’s blowing him in the car’, and had to explain that.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Teri grimaced and laughed. “You’re not allowed to talk to my daughter. My answer seemed to do, because Zoe went back to her book, muttering, ‘Well, that’s dumb. Why didn’t he just get out and find them?’ Mercifully, that’s the last I’ve heard of it.”

“I’ve been on search and rescue calls like that.”

“To find people hiding out on some backroad doing naughty things in their car?”

“No. Calls where some distraught parent reports their teenaged daughter missing. They call out a huge hunt and we get out in the field a couple hours before it’s called off because someone finds her in a tent in the campground getting her brains screwed out of her ears by some hormonal teenaged boy. Makes me glad I don’t have a daughter.”

Jim laughed when Teri stared at him with a strange expression, then he kissed her lightly on the lips. “I know, I know. I’m a hypocrite—when I think of all the sneaking around I did with you—.” He shook his head with a fond smile. “But if I had a daughter, I’d kill to protect her. Mark my words, someday you’ll see.”