RETURN TO ASH FORK cont.- page 18

G.B. turned off Route 66, drove onto the open ranch land and searched to the horizon line.

"I want y'all to watch fer antelope." he said with charming enthusiasm.

I gratefully took the opportunity to turn away from his face and stare through the passenger side window, while I listened to the dear familiar voice. Skin stretched over bones isn't important, I thought to myself. What matters is all the beauty inside.

I turned back from the window and again I looked at G.B.'s face. This time I saw brilliant turquoise eyes, a colour I had never seen. I saw his proud Teutonic neck, and felt compassion sweep over me as I inspected the narrative scars by his mouth and on his chin. Such a nice chin, he may have been quite handsome as a young man.

This is a fine strong man, I thought, a protector to stand between me and the world. Then I looked at his hands. Such beautiful hands. I wondered what makes a hand beautiful? Maybe it is loving the person whose hand it is. I looked back to G.B.'s dear face and he turned to look at me. He smiled, tears spilled down his cheeks as he said, "I've got so much to show y'all Charle."

We watched for the antelope, and I thrilled to the dusty ride across the Arizona high desert ranch land.

G.B. stopped the pick-up at a whole lot of black and stated, "Charle, this is a black cinder pit, I'm fixin' to show y'all somethin'."

I stepped down from the old pick-up and gazed at the vast expanse of land which encircled the volcanic cinder pit. Despite my fascination, a strange thought . . . . What if this rather odd man is crazed - kills me, then buries me under the cinders? I felt an adrenalin rush, then I heard again the beautiful music of his voice.

"Look Charle, 'cross yonder - at that white scar n the mountain. That's my quarry, the White Elephant.

"Where?" I asked, as I scanned the long line of mountains.

G.B. moved behind me to the right. He reached across my back with his left arm and gripped my left arm with his powerful hand. H closed tight around me and pointed to the scar on the mountain. Either this man is going to kiss me - or kill me!

We stood alone in the world under a clear blue sky and G.B. kissed me with all the strength, confidence and emotion of his nature.



"G.B. and the Strange Canadian Painter Lady" by Charlotte Madison and Nana Cook copyright 1994