"Yep, just what I was figuring." Gaff's smile widened. "I guess I'm on the right track there if you thought the same."
"I'd like to see your drawings for it."
"Yeah?" Surprise and pleasure zipped through him. "Great. I'll bring them by sometime when I got them a little more complete. Better payment than a hundred bucks for the coffee. Drip takes time," he added, noting the way Nathan was eyeing the slowly filling pot. "The best things do."
When Nathan was in the shower, sipping his second cup while hot water pounded the back of his neck, he had to agree that Gaff was right. Some things were worth the wait. His mind was clear again, his system all but singing with caffeine. By the time he was dressed and had downed cup number three, he was rimed for the hike to Sanctuary p and set for an enormous breakfast.
Both the pickup and Giff were gone when Nathan walked down the steps again. Off to fix up something else, Nathan decided. He knew Giff had been amused when he'd asked him to write down the instructions for brewing drip coffee, step by step. But Nathan dealt better with a clear outline.
He caught himself whistling "I Walk the Ling." back to Johnny Cash, he thought, with a shake of his head. And he didn't even like country music.
When he stepped into the forest, dim and green, he deliberately slowed his steps and followed the gentle bend of the river under the arching sway of limbs and moss. Because it always struck him as entering a church, he stopped whistling, A flutter of color caught his eye, and he stopped to watch a sunny yellow butterfly flit along the path. To the left, the lances of palmettos, tangled vines, and twisted trunks formed a wall that reached up and up, giving him glimpses of scarlet from the flowering vine, snatches of vivid blue sky through the forks of branches.
Though it was a detour, he kept to the river path a bit longer, knowing that the water would widen and lead him deeper into the cool stillness.
Then he saw her, crouched beside a fallen log. Her baggy jacket was pushed up past her elbows, her hair was pulled back into a stubby tail. she had one knee on the damp ground, the other foot planted for balance.
He couldn't have said why he found that so attractive. Why he found her so ... interesting.
But he stayed where he was, and remained silent, watching Jo set up her shot.
He thought he knew what she was after. The play of light on the water, the shadows of trees on the dark surface, the faint breath of mist just fading. A small, intimate miracle. And the way the river curved, just beyond, Nathan thought. The way it disappeared around that bend where the grass was high and wet and the trees thick made one wonder what could be seen, if you only walked on.
When he saw the doe step out to the left, he stepped forward quietly and crouched behind her. she jolted when he laid a hand on her shoulder, so he squeezed.
"Ssh. To the left," he murmured near her ear. "Ten o'clock."
Though her heart had Icaped and pounded, Jo shifted the camera. When she focused on the doe, she took a steadying breath and waited.
she caught the doe, head lifted, scenting the air. Then again her shutter clicked as the deer scanned the river and looked across directly at the two humans, crouched and still. Her artns began to ache as seconds passed into minutes. But she didn't move, unwilling to risk losing a shot. The reward came when the doe picked her way gracefullly through the grass and the yearling slipped out of the trees and joined her at the verge to drink.
Light slanted down in dreamy white shafts that slid like liquid through the faint, swimming mist, and the deers' tongues sent ripples spreading soft and slow over the dark water.
she would underexpose, just a bit, she thought, to accent that otherworldly aura rather than go for the crisp clarity of reality. The prints should look enchanted, with the faintest of fairy-tale blurs.
she didn't lower her camera until she'd run out of film, and even then she remained silent, watching while the deer meandered downriver and around the bend.
"Thanks. I might have missed them."
"No, I don't think so."
she turned her head, had to will herself not to jerk back. she hadn't realized he was quite that close, or that his hand still made warm connection with her shoulder. "You move quietly, Nathan. I never heard you."
"You were pretty absorbed. Did you get the shot you were working on before the deer?"
(&we'll see."
"I've been taking some shots myself Old hobby."
"Natural that it would be. It'd be in your blood."
He didn't care for the sound of that and shook his head. "No, I don't have a passion for it. just an amateur's interest. And a lot of equipment."
she never knew whether it was easier to speak of such losses, or say nothing. So she said nothing.