February 1977 – Fort Stockton, TX

"Angela!" Michael yelled, waving his arms. Blowing a few strands of hair out of her face, Angela looked up in the direction of Michael's voice. Finding him, she smiled wide, and held her carry-on close as she started to jostle over to him as fast as she could. But Michael closed the distance faster, and picked her up, laughing. Holding her tight up against him off the ground, he kissed her feverishly. He put her down several seconds later, and circled both hands at her waist. She dropped her carry-on and whisked her hands up behind his neck.

"Wow, have I missed you," Angela said looking up at him, purely delighted to have his hands on her again.

He laughed in relief, "It's been a long week!" Suddenly, he looked sad, and his hands slid down her arms to hold her hands. "I don't know how I'm going to survive so long without you." She gave him a resigned smile. Sighing, he picked up her bag. "Come on. Let's get the rest of your luggage."

Michael yanked her Louis Vuitton suitcase off the baggage claim. "This feels kind of nice for the desert," he said tilting his head at it. She looked at him blankly. He shrugged, "Eh, it's brown. It'll be fine."

She followed after him, trying to match his pace. "Please tell me you were kidding about the sleeping bag."

He looked back at her and laughed, "Like I said, MBA: You are a trip."

Angela tried to take comfort in his carefree attitude. Maybe this won't be so bad. They walked to where he'd parked a large, dinged-up, pickup truck, and he slung her luggage in the back. "Um-" she started with her pointer finger in the air, but her concern was obsolete before it escaped her mouth. Michael opened the passenger door for her. She sighed, and then climbed up.

"Our camp is less than an hour northwest of here," Michael said as he slipped on his sunglasses. When they started their drive up Route 285, she unbuckled, scooted to the middle seat, and clicked on the lap belt. He grinned at her, and put his right arm around her shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here!"

She smiled up at him, letting her left forearm rest on his leg. "So am I. I'm glad I caught the first flight this morning. And what a relief to jump 30 degrees in a few hours." He nodded, and squeezed her shoulder.

They spent several quiet minutes, with her head on his shoulder and his hand tracing her arm. "So, what's the plan? Are we getting "settled" first?" She said, squeezing his leg.

"Later," he grinned. "First, you've gotta see this place."

Angela looked up at him driving, and nodded slowly. That's…surprising. "So, what exactly are you doing?"

Even with him wearing sunglasses, Angela could see Michael's whole face become extremely animated explaining their agenda. She smiled watching him. She was so taken with his passion that she constantly needed to remind herself to listen to what he was saying. Snakes didn't interest her in the least. But Michael did.

In one of his brief glances down at her, he caught her look of wonderment. "What is it?"

"You," she laughed. "It's just really nice to see you so happy. What an amazing thing to be able to do something that clearly lights you up."

Michael looked at her a little bemused. "Really?"

"Of course."

He looked straight down the road for at least a minute.

"You think I wouldn't want you to be happy?" Angela said, confused.

"What? No. It's not that. I was just- you don't think it's selfish?"

"Selfish? Why would you say that?"

Michael paused, then shook head, and shrugged a little under her head. He squeezed her arm lightly again, and said, "It's just up ahead." He motioned with his head for her to look in front of them.

Angela frowned. What was that? But she followed his lead, and looked to their camp. It looked like a mini tent city in the open desert. Shrubs scattered the rocky ground. Michael pulled up, and Angela slipped on her large, pink gradient lens sunglasses. He got out of the truck first, and she hopped out after him on his side.

Michael introduced Angela to the guys, and had her put on sneakers and jeans. He clipped on a web belt loaded with two canteens and a knife, and took her hand. "What's that for?" Angela said pointing to the supplies, clearly distressed.

He just chuckled, and shook his head. "Come on. You've gotta see this."

They walked for a surprisingly long time. Angela focused mostly on the ground so she wouldn't misstep. Her feet were sweaty, and little bits of rocks had gotten in her shoe. But as often as she could, she stole delighted glances at Michael as he pulled her ahead. He was so excited. Finally, he slowed as they neared what appeared to be the edge of a gray, rocky cliff. Taking off her glasses, Angela looked out in amazement.

"That's the Pecos River."

She whispered a, "Wow," as she stepped closer to the edge, slowly taking in the whole panorama.

"These cliffs are over a thousand feet high," Michael said softly, looking out at the expanse with his hands on his hips.

Angela looked at his face. "No wonder you're so antsy at home." She looked back out at the canyon. "You're itching for this."

Michael let out a soft laugh, and turned to cup her face. He kissed her softly, sacredly. After a minute, he let go and sat down in the dirt, holding his hand up to her. She hesitated a second, but then smiled and took his hand. She sat in front of him, and he pulled his knees up on either side of her.

Angela leaned back gently against Michael, who was propping up their weight on his arms behind him. He leaned the side of his face up against her head, and they sat there in an awed silence, not even thinking about the time.

Eventually, Michael brought up one hand to her head, and kissed the other side. "We've gotta head back. Don't wanna get stuck out here in the dark."

Angela turned her head to him sharply, "Is that possible?"

He laughed as he scooted back and pushed himself up to standing. Grunting, he pulled her up, too. "Come on."

As they made their way across the desert, Angela could see the sun was preparing to fall. Even though there was still plenty of light, she took the opportunity to hug Michael's right arm as they walked. He seemed amused, and even to be enjoying her mild panic. She, admittedly, found it kind of fun to play the skittish, city girl, with her strong, mountain man there to protect her. By the time they walked up to the tents, the sky was a fierce grade of pink and orange.

"There's a port-a-potty on the other side of the mess tent," Michael said pointing to the left of them. He laughed at Angela's horrified look. "I'll be just a sec," he said as he ducked into one of the tents. She stood there with her hands on her hips. Better in the daylight, I'd imagine. Steeling herself, Angela used the bathroom, and spent an extraordinarily long time washing her hands. He was laughing at her again, as he walked up to where she was drying her hands on a towel. He was carrying a long, skinny box in one hand, a canvas tote bag in the other, and a pack was slung over his back. She looked up at him, worried.

"Are you going somewhere?"

He laughed. "We are. Come on."

Angela whimpered inwardly, but shyly took his hand. She looked back at the tents with longing as he pulled her into the desert again, deciding to hold onto his whole arm again.

"Just look at those colors," he said after they had walked a little while.

She had gone from feigning frailty to feeling seriously outnumbered. "Uh-huh," she said looking around nervously as they walked. She still maintained her death grip on his arm.

After a few more minutes, she asked him with a wave to her voice, "Is it much farther?"

He smiled down at her. "We're almost there."

Michael stepped out past the thicker shrubs and high rocks, into a patchy clearing which was the base of a far-off mesa. The shadows pulled at the cracks in the rock, accentuating the vibrancy of color against the face. Angela stood looking mystified at it, as Michael dropped his pack. He pulled out two of his sweaters, and the quickly dropping temps had her accepting one gratefully.

He rolled out a double sleeping bag, and Angela pried her eyes from the view as he set out their picnic dinner. He pulled two wrapped sandwiches out of the canvas bag, and sat down. He helped her down onto the sleeping bag, and opened the skinny box. "Don Julio 1942," Michael said wiggling his brows. She had no idea of its apparent significance, but smiled gratefully.

"Michael, this is incredible," Angela said as he uncorked the tequila.

He grinned. "I'm glad you like it. Really. I've missed you."

She smiled warmly back, as he handed her a sandwich. "Me, too." They both ate and passed the bottle of tequila back and forth, watching the sunset blaze off the rocks.

After a swig, Angela wiped her mouth and blinked forcefully, trying to focus. "Michael, what did you mean in the truck?" She rubbed her forehead. "-When you asked if I thought doing something that makes you happy is selfish?" She handed him the bottle.

His smile left him, and he turned to look up at the mesa. "My parents think that. Boarding school wasn't cheap. They stopped paying for my college as soon as I switched my major. They think it's a waste to spend my time 'playing in the woods'," he said blankly, using finger quotes for emphasis.

She looked over at his face sadly. "What do you think?"

"I don't really care," Michael said decisively. "I do it because I love it. I've never been cut out for the indoors. I'll leave that to my peer-reviewed, anesthesiologist brother," he said with a sneer. "If that means I'm selfish, fine."

Angela hurt for him. She knew what it felt like to work so hard and be good at something, and have it all written off without merit. Putting her hand on his, she spoke soft, but direct. "I think it's selfish to deny the world your gifts, what you're creating out here."

Michael looked over at her. He put down the empty bottle, and scooted closer to her. The last of the reddish light lit the highlights of her face, and he brought one hand up to her neck. He leaned in to kiss her, and she didn't make him come the whole way.

Angela brought one arm up to rub his shoulder, and pull him closer. Their kisses quickly intensified, and she slid down on her back, while still holding onto him. He climbed on top of her, and she groaned. "Oh, I've missed you," Angela mumbled with her head back. He scootched his bulky fisherman sweater up over her head. Then came her t-shirt. While he was getting hers, he was close enough for her to pull off his.

He went back to kissing her mouth again, but didn't stay there long. He slowly worked his way, feathering kisses down her neck and chest. He kissed her through her lacey bra, as he fiddled with her jeans. She helped him scoot them off. Trailing his nose between her breasts, he lightly kissed a swirling trail down to her belly button. She saw him look up at her while kissing her stomach, and she couldn't stay still. The compulsion to throw back her head, and arch her back was too great to resist. She stretched her long torso taut, and he smiled ruefully as he mouthed at her panty line. In a quick sit-up, she said throatily, "Not yet," and put her hands under his arms, pulling him back on top of her.