Shenar and Frank had not owned this house long enough to furnish it. Their bed was Shenar’s king size futon mattress spread on the floor close to the fireplace in the great room. They snuggled in the middle of the pad underneath a down comforter beside a circular hearth. Dawn was breaking, but flickers from the embers defied the faint light. Frank was draped over Shenar.

Tomás sank into a rattan sofa frame covered with plump cotton cushions. One of the two stirred. Tomás put his hand over his mouth and held his breath. Although he wasn’t early, and the door had been unlocked, he didn’t want to disturb them.

He watched Frank’s body tighten around Shenar’s sleeping figure. Beneath the comforter he could detect Frank separating Shenar’s thighs. Tomás tensed. He would scrape a message of his presence momentarily if things developed.

Shenar, her eyes closed, turned toward Frank, eased herself up and settled over his shoulders, molding her torso to his. She nested her neck in his, sighed and opened her eyes. Tomás watched as she focused, as her eyes widened.

She grinned before Tomás did. “Frank,” he heard her ask, a chuckle in her soft delivery, “when did you tell Tomás to come back?”

“Oh, Jesus!” Frank scurried to slip on slacks beneath the comforter and exit without revealing too much of Shenar.

Shenar remained behind for a few moments, wrapped in the comforter, lolling behind the brothers, following their progress into the kitchen by their voices. She knew Frank had informally scheduled the three of them to work together in the morning and meet with Bob in the afternoon. What she really wanted to do was get to know Tomás a little better. Frank could work if he wanted. She’d like to wander around the property with Tomás, get a feel for him in the wild, so to speak. Where Frank related to his environment like a giraffe, looking everything over, Tomás slunk through the details like a cat, sleek, quiet, absorbent. She wanted to see him in action. She was also intrigued by the strobe their meeting had created. She had no intentions of cheating on Frank. But Tomás perplexed her. She wondered if he’d felt anything last night. Too.

Shenar walked into the kitchen. Tomás was turned away from her, hunched over the counter, breaking eggs into a glazed ceramic bowl. His hair swept below his shoulders, insolently neat.

“Frank wants us to start work, you know. I don’t feel like it, but I can’t think of a good excuse.”

Tomás turned toward her, dangling a wire whisk over the bowl. He was grinning. He must have had a good night, Shenar thought. She noticed her interest was not altogether dispassionate. She looked away from him.

“Ever been horseback riding?”

Shenar laughed. “Oh, once. I got dumped on my first ride. I never got over my pre-teen fascination with horses, but I was scared of them. So, I used to pretend I was the horse, not the rider.”

Shenar watched him for signs, of what she was unsure.

Tomás returned his attention to the bowl. “You and I have a right to get to know each other informally, since we’re related now. And, you certainly have a right to learn about horses from the outside in. I think those are good excuses.”

They had less trouble convincing Frank to allow their outing than they’d imagined. Tomás was uncomfortable with the Freudian aspect of horseback riding, but he had a gut understanding that if he and Shenar were going to spend time getting to know one another, they would need something to do with their bodies. He didn’t question this, he simply made allowances for it and grabbed at the first thing he could think of. Something between their legs. He wondered if Shenar was thinking the same thing. Probably not.

Shenar sat her stud quarter horse with considerably more finesse than Tomás expected. She had been uneasy about mounting. She’d even joked that she’d mount from the porch. He guessed, with surprise, that she was unaware of the strength of her legs. “It’ll be like mounting a bicycle, for you,” he encouraged, “or were you thrown by one of those, too?”

Shenar glanced at him with an intimate merriment that caught him off guard. She laughed. He looked away, hoping his eyes hadn’t stabbed at her.

Her seat read the horse through the saddle, as though she had a sense of what was needed to enjoy the ride. As he watched her thighs pump, he doubted that she’d be sore, despite her inexperience.

Suddenly Shenar reined her mount across Tomás’ path. “I wanted the property just east of Pinetop.”

Tomás noticed that she didn’t sound wistful, but deliberate. He looked at her. She was craning her neck above the tree tops, scanning the valley below as though she’d seen it before and was placing landmarks.

“It’s a different forest,” Tomás responded, noncommittally.

“I know,” Shenar agreed. “I love this forest. And I love that forest, too. That farmhouse on the clearing. I’ll bet it’s still available. Nobody would want to buy it.”

“Why didn’t you get that place, instead of this one?”

Shenar glanced at him and shrugged. “It wasn’t my money, it was Frank’s.”

Tomás nodded and scanned the trail ahead. “Was it much of a sacrifice?”

Shenar smiled at him. “No. I like this place. Frank likes it. No sacrifice at all.” She held his gaze a moment. There was an undercurrent of wisdom, there, that he wanted to get at, wanted her to express. He knew what it was like to put off desire in order to enjoy the realities of life.

As Tomás returned her stare, indicating by his intensity that he wanted her to continue, he realized that Frank had been inside Shenar when she had opened her eyes earlier this morning, seen him and smiled mischievously. He gazed at her fixedly. She didn’t flinch. While he still held Shenar’s attention, he blushed. He looked away, then looked back. She was flushed, too. He wondered if she had flushed from their ride, before their thoughtful interlude, and he just hadn’t noticed.

Tomás geed west, back into the wetlands. They knew something between them, the two of them. He wished he could get Shenar to acknowledge it, to help him figure out what it was. As a diversionary tactic he called behind him, “So, what do you think about Bob?”

She laughed. She was facing west, and her laughter bounced off the slope back at him. It was joyous, untainted. He joined in, until he looked back at her and noticed she was focused on him with concern. “Do you know why I’m laughing?” She asked.

Tomás made an unsuccessful attempt to contain his merriment. “Well, Bob is a funny guy...” He shrugged and reined back toward Shenar.

“Has anyone come up to you, lately, at work and asked you what you thought of me?” Shenar swished her head smartly from side to side then zeroed in on him.

“That’s not fair, I’ve just met you, but, yes, actually, Frank and I have had long discussions about you,” Tomás faced her triumphantly. “Connie asked about you the other day, too. He thought we’d met, already. And, of course, Bob...so, what’s your point?”

Shenar was blushing furiously. “All right. Bad example.” She walked her horse up the incline and reined herself in level with Tomás. “I mean, does it really matter, in the scheme of things, what I think about Bob? I’ve got the impression that it is more important to everyone what Bob thinks of me. I even suspect Frank of soliciting Bob’s approval for our marriage!”

Tomás dropped his head. “Frank didn’t even solicit mine.” Tomás’ voice was low, unaccusing. He looked away from Shenar. He felt as though she had tread on holy ground. This was his brother’s wife. If Frank was happy, Tomás’ approval was implicit. Frank didn’t have to ask. With Shenar, he knew Frank was happy.

Shenar started over the last rise. “Frank didn’t solicit my approval about the house, here, either.”

“I thought you liked these miserable winters.”

“This place has the smell of death,” she said over her back.

Tomás shuddered. He knew what she meant. Tomás was startled that Shenar referred to death so freely, but at least Frank had told her. And Shenar had married him, anyway. That’s what Tomás loved about her, most.

Shenar did not mention the property in Arizona again.

They led their mounts into the barn. When Frank dies, and if I’m unencumbered, he vowed to himself, and if, and if, I’ll come and see my sister-in-law. I’ll take care of her. I’ll love her the way Frank loves her. And the way I love her. And I won’t die on her. If I’m free.

Text & Graphics © 1999 by Gail Rae Hudson

Background by