A/N: One more chapter to finish this short story--leave us a comment or review! We have 2 or 3 more in our outline, but we may combine 2 of the stories. Thanks for reading!
A Few Days in a Canyon Chapter 9
She pulled it off. She dressed in the cleanest pair of jeans she had, wore the same shirt she had taken off that morning, with another shirt underneath, brushed her hair back, and smiled.
"You look beautiful." She smelled of fresh air and water. Her cheeks and nose were blushed from the sun.
The group from the village was just as impressed with Sara Sidle as he had been for months. She was confident, poised, gracious, hiding that broad smile with a professional demeanor that surprised him. One of the women gave Sara a small box containing a flat turquoise stone.
"To remember our tribe and our waters." The woman said.
By the time lunch was eaten, everyone talked to everyone else, saying little about the child and the events of the day before, Sara and Grissom had just enough time to stuff backpacks and crawl into the last helicopter with other tourists. The ride was minutes instead of several hours it would take to walk out of the canyon. Both remembered the easy downhill track; climbing out would mean an extreme upward trek.
They found the rental car exactly as they had left it, covered with more dust, but otherwise untouched. Grissom talked to two law officers before getting into the car.
"There are two motels ahead. Do you want to spend the night or drive into Las Vegas?" He asked taking her hand and pulling it to his chest. "Four or five hours into Vegas at this time of day."
"Drive. I'll talk."
If he had turned on a radio, he would not have heard more words. Sara talked about American Indians, surprised at how much he knew about the southwest tribes; she talked about the environment, about the oceans and forests and politics. He laughed and listened. Once she said she often "over talked", a new term to him until she explained it.
"We need a code word. One to let me know when I'm talking too much."
"We'll come up with one. Right now, keep talking."
Traffic slowed to a crawl at Hoover Dam. In the late twilight, she gawked as a tourist but did not want to stop. "I'll come back."
By the time Las Vegas came into view, it spread out before them with twinkling lights from horizon to horizon. The Strip was obvious as the brightest, highest lights of the city. Grissom avoided that area, stopping once for food, before turning into his driveway.
"We can return the car tomorrow." Grissom said. "For now, let's eat."
He wanted her to talk. Not about the dozens of topics she had covered in the drive from the parking lot. He needed to ask her, get her to talk.
She showered; he said he would fix their dinner. But when she stepped out of his shower, he was there, holding a pink shopping bag in one hand, a snow white towel in the other. "I got this weeks ago."
She took the offered towel and wrapped it around her body. "What's in it?" Her hand went into the bag and felt something soft and silky. A bathrobe, no, she thought, more expensive, more dressing gown than bathrobe. She owned nothing like this one.
"Keep looking."
At the bottom of the bag, were several other small items. She knew she blushed. "Did you buy these?" Lacy, silk, barely there panties in black and pink and red from one of those expensive designer named stores where she would never shop. She stepped into the black ones. "Turn your back." He turned around. She slipped into the robe and tied the sash. "Turn around."
He turned and a smile appeared on his face. "Better than I imagined," he said as he kissed her. He was always puzzled that she could step out of a shower smelling the way she did, her damp hair curling around her face as she bent to put lotion on her legs in one continuous motion. She fascinated him, simply, completely. He could watch her all day.
"Dinner," he motioned toward the kitchen.