The landscape north of Monument Valley is both dramatic and unforgiving. This is an area prized by survivalists. Nevertheless, a few communities developed along the San Juan River as it meandered through the southern Utah border with Arizona. One of the most remarkable of these settlements was established as Mexican Hat, although the unusual rock formation it was named for was located some miles down the highway. The small town boasts a hotel and a few other stores, and serves as a starting point location for those who wish to go rafting on the river. Most tourists, however, are impressed by the steep hill that climbs down to the bridge over the river, and the special effect of towering mesas that overlook and atmospherically “weigh down” the scattered habitations of Mexican Hat.
One inhabitant felt rather weighed down this morning, as long shadows still enveloped the small building where she worked. Lily Ramirez swept the floor of Sam’s Café as she’d done all other mornings for months and wondered when, if ever, her brother would return. She hadn’t slept well the previous night but that fact was nothing new. Her caseworker in Cortez had told her this was an expected part of her condition. Time would ease this symptom, so she’d been assured.
She’d had a curing ceremony when she’d returned from Iraq. Her mother’s people lived on the reservation that stretched the land between Bluff and Blanding. Her mother had died when she was a young teenager. Her Hispanic father had taken off on a wild tangent several months ago. Lily’s brother Sam had gone after him and left her to mind the store. She’d heard from him two weeks ago, and nothing since.
It was impossible not to worry. Radames Ramirez had gone to Mexico, and the news was full of bad reports of things gone wrong for those who traveled to the wrong places. Lily wished they hadn’t dumped the burden of the business on her. A neighbor kept offering to take over the small café and had been in almost successful negotiations with her father and brother until their impulsive and abrupt departure. Lily wished she knew if she should wait for news of them or press on with Mrs. Blanchard. She was tempted to do so, for acquiring the café would give the middle aged woman something she wanted, and relieve Lily of an obligation she’d never looked for.
The sun was attempting its rise to a point above the overhanging cliffs. Almost time to open for the first wave of local commuters and eager tourists. As she emptied the last sweepings into a wastebasket, Lily wondered if she’d see the beautiful stranger again. She’d glimpsed him for the first time two weeks ago standing across the street. He’d stood there for some minutes before ambling off toward the hotel. Such a gorgeous man—maybe he was an employee of the river rafting expeditions that took off from the hotel’s grounds.
If he was a new, albeit temporary local, she also wondered why he hadn’t made his way into the café. Everyone else in town did. That brought another deep sigh. Sam was the extrovert of the family; he could talk to anybody at any time. He’d make fans of them, too.
When she checked the coffee urn to see it was fully loaded and on the boil, the bells to the front door jingled. The first customer of the day was the beautiful stranger. Seen up close he was even more dazzling than she’d imagined. Lily was reminded of the Regency romances she’d read avidly as a teenager. This man was tall, slender and muscular at the same time, with a chiseled face that wouldn’t have gone amiss on a statue of the Greek god Apollo. He was sun bronzed, with lines that ran across his forehead and descended down magnificent cheekbones. In fact, he was too good-looking, she decided.
Continued next week
