Sanctuary

That stairway doesn’t belong over there, it’s better over here.”
    “I know what you mean.”
    “Well, I could never afford the schooling or the time to go off and study, so I build instead.”
    In anticipation, Nate got out two mugs. “You’re a builder?”
    “Well, now, I don’t know if I’d say that. Nothing that fancy, really. I do add-ons, fix things up.” He patted the tool belt cocked with gunslinger swagger on his hip. “Swing a hammer. Always something needs to be done around here, so I keep busy. Maybe one of these days I’ll take one of the houses in my head and build it from the ground up.”
    Nathan leaned back against the counter and tried not to drool as Giff poured boiling water into the cone. “Have you done any work at Sanctuary?”
    “Sure. This and that. I worked on the crew that remodeled the kitchen for Brian over there. Miz Pendleton’s got in her mind to add on a little bathhouse. A solarium, like. Something where she can put a Jacuzzi tub and maybe an exercise room. People look for that kind of thing now when they’re on vacation. I’m putting together a design for her.”
    “The south side,” Nathan said to himself. “The light would be right, and it could be worked right into the gardens.”
    “Yep, just what I was figuring.” Giff’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 Giff 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 primed for the hike to Sanctuary 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 Line.” 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 leaped 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