Free A Perfect Life nd Other Stories by Elaine Burnes Page B

the road and toward the driveway to the lodge.
    “Hey, little lady,” Denny called. “You lost?” Her smile faded when
she saw Alice’s expression. A mix of emotions flashed—confused, frightened,
maybe angry. Denny stopped a few feet from her. “You okay?”
    Alice looked at her seriously. “I’m fine.”
    It was as though earlier hadn’t happened.
“Alice—”
    Alice met Denny’s gaze and smiled suddenly. “I was watching a
bird.”
    “Oh.” Denny realized how little she knew her. Nervous, she checked
her watch. “I need to get going if I want dinner.”
    Alice walked with her toward the lodge. “Are you working
tomorrow?”
    Denny nodded. What now? She needed to be careful. Helen pretended
to ignore the employees who hooked up with each other, but frowned on
staff/guest relations.
    “When do you leave?” Denny asked.
    “The day after.”
    People bustled about. Their day together was the most privacy
they’d get. “Well . . .”
    “Thank you again for today,” Alice said, a little too formally for
Denny’s comfort. She half expected Alice to shake her hand.
    “You’re welcome.” They stood at a crossroads. Alice started to
turn toward her cabin, Denny needed to get inside. “Alice . . .”
    Alice stopped.
    “Have a nice evening.”
    Alice smiled and Denny watched her walk away.
     
    THE NEXT DAY was clear and the winds calm, so
Denny had a long day of flying. She got back late in the afternoon. Tomorrow
Alice would leave. Early—the bus left at six. She stood on the porch, debating
what, if anything, she could do. Erin had invited her to play volleyball with
the crew, but she wanted to stay where she might run into Alice. She settled
into a rocking chair to think. Was it stupid to hold out hope of seeing her
again?
    The van from the afternoon hike at Wonder Lake pulled in and Denny
smiled reflexively on seeing Alice get out. She looked happy and relaxed,
laughing with an older couple. As she turned toward the cabins, she caught
Denny’s gaze. She stopped and Denny’s heart raced. Alice waved the others on
and stepped onto the porch.
    “Hi.”
    “Hi,” Denny said, feeling immediately feeble.
    “I was afraid I might not see you again.”
    Denny’s heart soared and she stood. “I was wondering if you’d like
to—”
    “I’d love to.”
    Denny paused, startled. “I haven’t finished
asking.”
    “I don’t care. I’ll do it. But you can finish asking, if you
like.” Alice smiled.
    “Okay. Would you like to go wing walking?”
    Alice laughed and her eyes widened with mischief. “Yes.”
    The way Alice was looking at her made a tingle shoot down Denny’s
legs. She cleared her throat. “Well, I was actually wondering if you’d like to
go for a walk with me. There’s a nature trail and, well, there aren’t usually
many—” She glanced around the porch as people streamed in and out of the lodge
on their way to and from their cabins. Why was this so difficult? She had
regressed into adolescence. “It’s quiet.”
    Alice didn’t take her eyes off of her. “That
would be nice. I’m starving, though. After dinner?”
    “Of course. Meet here?”
    Alice nodded.
     
    DENNY ATE DINNER in the kitchen with the crew, washed up, then
waited in the lobby. When Alice strolled by, she followed her outside then led
her to the path that ran through trees behind the volleyball net. Once they
were out of view of the lodge, and without saying anything, Alice took Denny’s
hand.
    Hands are at once utilitarian and sensual, familiar and exotic.
Hands grip airplane yokes, fingers grasp blackboard chalk. The eyes may be
windows to the soul, but hands are doors to the heart. Denny could barely see
the path before her. It was as though all her psychic energy had drained down
to those entwined digits.
    They stopped and Alice might have said something. Denny looked
down to see a trail marker. Her other hand held a guidebook she’d borrowed from
the lobby. She tried to open the book without letting