CHAPTER NINE
HE SHOULD HAVE brought his headphones.
The land set aside for the butterfly sanctuary was surprisingly impressive. A blank slate, for the most part. He’d heard about the dispute over where to settle the education center the town hoped would attract visitors fascinated with the migratory habits and preservation plans for the monarchs and other butterflies. The vista of trees that stretched before him and up the main road was thick and enticing, giving the observer the feeling of being swallowed by a force of nature.
He wasn’t the greatest identifier of flora and fauna, but he could smell the eucalyptus in the air, and as he looked up, the lush leaves and enticing branches seemed to flicker in the sunlight. Not that any of this was spurring his imagination.
He tried to follow Calliope’s advice, but “listening” in a silence he wasn’t used to left him feeling antsy. His ability to focus was shot. All he saw was dirt, trees and the faint hint of light filtering through the branches and treetops.
He’d been staring at the same blank page for more than twenty minutes. Wasn’t being here supposed to boost his creativity?
“You being here must mean you’re now open to all possibilities.”
He should have been startled to hear her voice, but somehow it made sense. The anxiety clawing inside him eased. Every time he saw her, he was struck by her beauty—a beauty that radiated from the inside out. “Good morning.”
“You look as if you could use a refill.” Calliope lowered herself to the ground beside him, one of her handwoven baskets in her arms. She pulled out a large metal thermos and refilled his coffee. How a woman could move so smoothly, so fluidly, like a mermaid in the water, was beyond him. She wore a dress of fire colors today—orange, yellow and red. The combination put the sun to shame as it warmed him and made him shiver at the same time.
“Now that’s service.” He sipped gratefully and appreciated the faint taste of chicory. “Let me guess. Jason told you where I was.”
“I probably would have guessed eventually.” She pulled back the napkin in the basket to reveal thick slices of homemade bread. “In case you get hungry.”
“Thank you.” The worry on her face had faded, but her melancholy made his stomach clench. He lifted a hand, brushed his finger over her cheek. “You okay?”
“Mostly.” Her sad smile broke his heart. “You, on the other hand...”
“Me, what?” Because it was the perfect distraction, he drank more coffee. “Those plans I drew up will work perfectly here, you know. All it’ll mean is moving forward with the excavation of the trees—”
Her sharp intake of breath cut him off. He glanced over at her. Given the way the muscle in her jaw pulsed, he figured he’d said the wrong thing. Again.
“It’s impossible to build what you need without clearing the way. And this isn’t just about the structure itself, Calliope. There will be outer buildings as well, and a parking lot. And there will need to be a clear path to that view—”
“Have you seen the view yet?”
“Well, yeah.” He leaned over and pointed dead ahead. “It’s right there through those trees.”
He swore he heard her tsk at him.
“No wonder you’re clinging to your original plans. You haven’t seen this place yet. Not for what it really is.” She set aside the basket and stood up, reaching for his hand. “You need a different viewpoint.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll agree with you.” He grabbed hold before she changed her mind. The second his hand clasped hers, he had the odd inclination to never let go.
“If we are going to work together, we need to try to see things from the other person’s point of view.”
Had she tried to see his? “Yeah, I was just looking at your point of—”
“No.” Calliope shook her head, sending the long curls lying against her back to swaying. “You weren’t. Come. Leave those. And that.” She tossed his cell phone onto the top of his bag. “I want you to see with your eyes. Your soul. Not through a lens.”
“You really should give nature tours, you know that?”