Authors: Pamela Browning
He saw her as a woman.
She divined his appreciation in the light warming his eyes as he smiled at her when he was sitting at the breakfast table in the early morning, his fingers curved around a coffee mug. His admiration was subtly expressed by the intimate angle of his body whenever he leaned toward her to talk. She sensed it in the sensual droop of his eyelids, the firm set of his chin, the full curve of his lips. She knew as a woman knows when a man is undeniably attracted to her.
She responded to his charm with an answering charm of her own. She couldn't help it. It just happened.
The electricity flowed freely between them, an unseen bond that the others didn't detect. It carried thoughts, ideas, emotions—all unspoken, but no less real. The result was that Julie felt incredibly energized, refreshed and renewed. After a few hours in Stephen's presence she found herself imbued with his special force and vigor. It was sexual and yet not sexual, and Julie was at a loss to define it.
Stephen and the others customarily worked on the wire every day but Sunday. When their first Sunday at the farm rolled around, Gabrielle declared her intention to take a long nap after their noonday meal.
Paul, Claire, and Sam were scheduled to go to a promotional barbecue at Andrassy Acres. Nonna and Albert became involved in an old Errol Flynn movie on television, and Michael's family went on an outing to Lake Lanier. Always a reader, Eva settled down with a book, and Julie decided that she would give herself a manicure and try to repair her torn fingernail.
Julie had just sat down in the swing under the grape arbor when Stephen approached. He was wearing a navy-blue polo shirt and khaki slacks; his hair rippled in the slight breeze as he strode toward her.
"I would like to go for a ride," he said, smiling down at her. His smile tugged at her heart, and for a moment she felt giddy.
"And since you have a car," he continued, "I thought maybe you would let me borrow it."
"Of course, Stephen," she said, her cool answer belying her tripping pulse. "The car keys are in my handbag on the coffee table in the living room."
"I don't want to go alone. Go with me?"
"You're perfectly welcome to use my car," Julie said. "I don't mind."
He knelt beside her, toying whimsically with the rainbow-striped sash of her yellow sundress. "You miss the point, Juliana. I want your company as much as I want the car."
"We should invite Nonna and Sam."
"Don't be silly. They are swashbuckling." He was entirely serious.
Julie couldn't help the corners of her mouth turning upward at his misuse of language. "They're watching a swashbuckler, that's the kind of movie it is. It's not called swashbuckling, or would you rather not know that?"
Stephen laughed out loud. "I make funny mistakes with the language sometimes. Now, will you please come with me? Everyone else is busy with his or her own pursuits. No one will miss us for a few hours. And you will be free to correct my language silliness all afternoon."
Julie gave up. He was so appealing that there was no saying no. "You win. Where are we going?"
"I thought we'd drive about an hour to the north to a very scenic place." He grinned at Julie in happy anticipation.
Before she knew it, Stephen's hand was at the middle of her back, propelling her gently toward the car.
"We're going to Tallulah Gorge," he told her once they were headed down the driveway.
"What is it?"
"You don't know what is Tallulah Gorge?" he teased.
"No, I don't."
"Then I will tell you," he said, looking pleased that he knew something she didn't. "Tallulah Gorge is the oldest natural chasm in the eastern part of North America."
"Here in Georgia?"
"In Georgia."
"Why do you want to go there?"
"Various reasons, not the least of which is the fact that as a future citizen of this country, I owe it to myself to see the sights. Not to mention that I did not want to sit around on a lovely Sunday afternoon watching Errol Flynn saving well-endowed ladies from pirates."
Julie smiled and turned her eyes away to watch the scenery skimming past. The highway was a ribbon festooning a countryside quilted with shades of green. Trees in a peach orchard drooped laden boughs toward the ground, and two black-and-white ponies grazed in the shade of a hickory tree. Occasionally, leaves flickered green overhead, providing welcome relief from the hot sun.
"Look, I see mountains!" Julie said as hazy lavender peaks appeared in the distance.
"Take a look at the guidebook and tell me what it says about them," Stephen suggested. He handed her a small book and she opened it to the place he had marked.
"'The Blue Ridge Mountains rise in the northeastern part of the state of Georgia,'" read Julie. "'The height of the mountains varies from two thousand to five thousand feet above sea level.'"
"And the Tallulah Gorge is a thousand feet deep," Stephen said. He gripped the steering wheel as the car climbed a grade.
He was intent on his driving, but Julie slanted a look at him through her lashes, noticing the tangle of sun-bleached hair on the backs of his hands. She turned her head away and made herself gaze out the window, although she didn't really see the scenery. She remained aware of the man beside her, of the taut fabric stretched across his muscular thighs, of the light blue tracing of veins on the inner part of his left forearm.
Uncomfortably she shifted in her seat; the blast of air from the air-conditioning vent caught the edge of her skirt and billowed it upward, exposing her leg to mid-thigh. Julie tugged a handful of capricious voile over her knees.
"A shame," Stephen said in a teasing tone.
She flushed. "Stephen, I—"
"You have very pretty legs, Juliana," he told her with a jaunty tilt to his head. He was flirting with her.
She bit her lip, suddenly shy with him. He sensed her shyness, as he so often sensed things about her.
"If I have been too forward, you must tell me. But I never have understood why, if I have seen your legs when you wear shorts as you do every day, you must pull your skirt down when it blows up."
Julie shrugged. "A quaint American custom," she said, struggling to inject a shred of humor into the situation.
"I like it when you make jokes," he said. "As long as I understand them, that is."
As they climbed the foothills, a sign pointed toward the Tallulah Point Overlook, a country store located at the side of the curvy two-lane road.
"Is this it?" Julie asked as they pulled into the parking area in front of the low building. So far it didn't look like much.
"Someday I would like to visit the Tallulah Gorge State Park and hike the trails, but today is just a quick trip to the most convenient view."
They made their way through the store and past shelves of kitschy items such as honey pots shaped like black bears and fake Indian moccasins from Taiwan. Strung along the back of the building was a long porch with telescopes mounted on stands, but Julie didn't need one to appreciate the scenery.
"It's glorious!" she exclaimed, rushing to the railing overlooking the chasm. "It's magnificent!"
The Gorge stretched out before them in all its grandeur. Cut through the rock by the mighty Tallulah River long ago, its craggy sandstone walls were plumed with the green of hardy shrubs and trees. At the bottom Julie saw the river, mighty no more. According to a plaque on the wall, the Tallulah River with its six majestic waterfalls had been dammed and diverted through an underground tunnel by the Georgia Power Company in 1913.
With the river raging in its depths, the Gorge must have been magnificent. And with the river a mere trickle below, Tallulah Gorge was still a stupefying sight, staggering in its dimensions.
"I had no idea," Stephen breathed in wonder. "I didn't think it would be like this."
The wall on the far side of the Gorge seemed to bend toward them in an optical illusion. Julie blinked, trying to focus her eyes. But it was impossible.
Stephen dropped coins into one of the telescopes. "You look first," he said.
"Magnificent," was all she could say. "I must bring Nonna here."
Stephen took his turn at the telescope while Julie inspected the plaques on the wall. "Why, Stephen," she said in surprise. "Two wire walkers have crossed the Gorge on cable. A Professor Leon walked across in 1886, and Karl Wallenda in 1970. Did you know that?"
"I remember hearing something about it," Stephen said vaguely. She shot him a sharp look. He was training the telescope on a faraway mountain peak, so she returned her attention to the written information. It surprised her that he wasn't more interested in Professor Leon and Karl Wallenda, but perhaps even Stephen welcomed a break from talk about walking the wire.
Stephen straightened when the telescope clicked off. "Well, Juliana, now you have seen Tallulah Gorge. Sam told me of a good restaurant about twenty miles north of here. I'm hungry, how about you?"
"I will be by the time we get there," she said, flashing a smile up at him. They were having a good time, at ease with each other as they had never been around the others. Or with each other, for that matter.
Julie found it easy to talk to Stephen when he wasn't pressing her to return to the wire. It made her sad that they couldn't have normal conversations more often. She'd have liked to know more about his boyhood and what he considered the major influences on his life other than the Andrassys. Maybe today she'd have a chance to find out some of the more intriguing things about him.
The restaurant that Stephen had chosen was a family-style inn in Dillard. The hostess told them that it had existed since before the Civil War, when its proprietors had provided food and lodging for travelers crossing the Blue Ridge.
"Thank goodness for Sam," Julie said when they were seated and their table was cluttered with piled-high plates of hearty country food. "He really knows what he's talking about in the food department."
"Sam doesn't have a food department," Stephen said, wrinkling his brow. "He's a high school student."
Julie smiled. "That's just a saying. An idiom. I meant that Sam is well-informed.
"Oh. Juliana, you must be impatient with having to explain these things."
"I enjoy it." When he appeared doubtful, she reached across the table and impulsively touched his hand. "Really," she said, and when she realized that her touch had provided a level of intimacy that hadn't previously been part of the afternoon, she let her hand fall away.
Stephen was surprised at the warmth of her gesture. In light of it, he was at a loss to understand why Julie grew increasingly distracted during the meal. She seemed preoccupied, gazing out the window at the brick buildings of a school that adorned the hills on the other side of the road. The rapidly encroaching twilight dimmed the shapes of the mountain peaks in the distance; soon it would be dark.
"What's on your mind, Juliana?" Stephen asked. She was looking much too pensive in the atmosphere of food and conviviality that surrounded them.
"Just thinking," she answered.
"Now, Juliana," Stephen said reproachfully. "You must stop that. This is supposed to be a break from routine for us. And what would you be thinking about when we are eating this delicious meal and having a pleasant time?"
Her gaze met his. It wasn't the whole truth, but she said, "I keep thinking about those wire walkers crossing Tallulah Gorge. How difficult it must have been with the added problem of the optical illusion. And how lucky they were to have crossed it successfully."
A guardedness flashed into Stephen's eyes; then, just as quickly, it was gone. He took a second helping of mashed potatoes.
"Oh?" he said, communicating only mild interest.
"I wonder how they could have attempted it." \
"It was their choice," Stephen said philosophically. "Would you like more corn? It is very good."
Julie waved the bowl of creamed corn away. "I respect their choice, their desire to practice their art. I just don't understand it."
"Well," Stephen said, momentarily at a loss for words. "Choices are good, aren't they?"
"Not always."
"Does this have something to do with the family profession?" He had an idea that with Julie, most things did.
She nodded unhappily. "You're born an Andrassy. So you're trained to go on the high wire. Period."
"I was not born an Andrassy, and I had a choice. My choice was to walk the wire. To defy nature, to entertain an audience with my daring—this seemed important and right."
"Oh, Stephen, it was different for you."
"I suppose so," he said carefully.
"I've thought about it a lot," Julie went on in a low tone. "About being born an Andrassy and having so much expected of me. Maybe I would have made a good nurse. Taking care of Nonna makes me think I might have been. Or a lab scientist. Do you know that I was very good at chemistry in high school? I had the top marks in my class. Or—well, there are any number of things I might have done with my life." She spoke earnestly, her ebony eyes flashing.
Stephen's eyes registered understanding. "You do resent it, don't you?"