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“Uh…I…uh…no, thanks. My husband is waiting for me,” she said pleasantly, trying to sound calm, and hoping she didn't blush. It was startling to realize that he was hitting on her.

“Lucky guy,” the man quipped back with a smile. “Why not let him wait? Just one drink. You can tell him you were playing the slot machines. If he's dumb enough to let you walk around alone, that's what he gets.” He looked as though he meant it, and for an instant Stephanie felt a ripple of fear run down her spine. She suddenly felt unprotected. This was what Bill had left her to when he died, strange men in elevators who were accosting her, and wanted to see how far they'd get in exchange for a drink. It brought the message home to her loud and clear that she was on her own and had no one to protect her now. No one cared whether she was a married woman, or had a husband in her room. She was fair game.

“I don't think he'd like that,” she said with a polite smile, and headed toward her room with a quick step. The man didn't follow her, but he called down the hall.

“Come on, beautiful…just one drink…there's no harm in that.” She glanced over her shoulder again with a smile and shook her head, opened the door to her suite, and disappeared inside, as her heart pounded in her chest. She had done it. She had done something brave and unusual for her, but she didn't belong here, and it was time to go home. She was relieved to be in her room alone. She sat down on the couch and looked at the view of Las Vegas, with its flashing neon signs and garish lights far below. It looked as lively and busy at one in the morning as it had at six o'clock. And she thought of the man who had just offered her a drink. There was a world of men like that out there, that she had no interest in and nothing in common with, even if they were nice guys. She didn't want a nice guy, she wanted Bill, even if their marriage hadn't been perfect. He was familiar, and she always felt safe with him at her side. Now she felt vulnerable and scared. For the first time since he died, she wasn't angry at him, just sad.

She sat there for a long time, and then undressed to go to bed. She noticed on her cell phone that Louise had called. She hadn't heard the phone ring while she was in the casino, and it was too late to call her now. It was four in the morning in New York. Jean had called too, probably to make sure she had gotten home okay. She would call her back in the morning, and wondered what to say to her, that she had spent the night in Las Vegas? Jean would think she had lost her mind, and maybe she had, but in a good way. And even the final incident of the offered drink was harmless enough. Stephanie had proven she could take care of herself, even in an unfamiliar place. She was tired as she got into bed, but it had been a good day, and had been an adventure she hadn't expected. She tried not to think of Bill as she turned off the lights after she brushed her teeth and washed her face. And that night she dreamed of the man in the elevator who had offered her the drink, and wondered what would have happened if she had said yes.

The sun was streaming into the suite when she woke up at nine o'clock, looked around the unfamiliar bedroom, and remembered where she was. She smiled to herself as she thought about what she'd done. Coming to Las Vegas had been a crazy thing to do, but she was glad she had. She hopped out of bed and looked at the incredible view again. Beyond the strip and the bright lights that were lit and flashing even in the daytime, she could see the desert. Las Vegas looked like a mirage, which made her think of something she had wanted to do for years, and never had. She and Bill had always talked about going to the Grand Canyon one day, with the kids, but never got around to it, and she knew it wasn't far away. She wondered if that was part of the odyssey for her now, doing all the things they had promised they would do and never had.

She showered and dressed, and went downstairs to have breakfast at Tableau, the private breakfast restaurant in the tower. She was still thinking about going to the Grand Canyon, which she thought was a few hours away. She was packed and ready to leave at ten, and checked out of the hotel. The desk clerk asked her if she'd been satisfied with her stay, and the suite, and she said she'd been thrilled, which was true. She put her bag in the car, and drove to one of the shopping malls, and by eleven she had done everything she wanted to do. She had bought a pair of shoes at Gucci, sexy black sandals with stiletto heels, a sweater, and a pair of ridiculously expensive but great-looking jeans. She put her trophies of her freedom trip in the car, and thought about heading home. She had no reason to stay, and nothing to do here, but she didn't want to go back to San Francisco either. She had even less to do there, except her volunteer work at the facility for homeless kids, but they didn't need her that week, so she was in no rush to leave. Her life was a long empty road stretching ahead of her, and aside from occasional phone calls with her kids, no one needed or wanted her. She couldn't bear the thought of going home to the empty house, and thought about the Grand Canyon again.

She stopped at a gas station on the way out of town and inquired how far it was, and the woman at the cashier desk told her it was about four hours away and added that it was worth the trip.

“My husband and I go every year,” she volunteered. “It's the most beautiful place on earth. One of God's wonders.” She pointed to a map on the counter as Stephanie looked at it wistfully, sad again suddenly at what the woman had said.

“My husband and I always wanted to go too.” And then she added, “He's not here.”

“Go anyway,” the woman said. “You can always come back again with him,” she added cheerfully as Stephanie shook her head.

“No, I can't. He died in February.” She hated herself for saying it, but she always seemed to need to tell people now, as though they should know she was a widow, and feel sorry for her. The woman looked at her pointedly then and handed her the map.

“Then you need to go. It's a magical place, and it will be good for your soul. It's on me,” she said, indicating the map. “You'll be glad you did. I'm sure he'd want you to go.” Stephanie nodded with a lump in her throat the size of a fist, embarrassed by what she'd said. She was tired of telling strangers her story. Too much information, but she was still so raw, even after a night like the one in Vegas. In the clear light of day, Bill was still dead, and she would be a widow forever. She wasn't used to it yet and didn't want to be. She looked at the woman for a long moment, holding the map in her hand.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and walked into the sunlight, and back to her car. She opened the map on the front seat, wondering if she should go. Maybe the woman was right and Bill would want her to. If he had, they would have gone together. But he wasn't here anymore. Her life was her own. And she had come as far as Las Vegas, on a whim, so why not go to the Grand Canyon too? She didn't know why, but she knew she had to go. She followed the first sign to the turnoff that would lead her there. She had no idea what she was doing or why, but just as she had gone to Vegas after taking the wrong turn, now she was heading to Arizona to see one of the wonders of the world. It was another adventure, another day, and she felt like a different person suddenly. She had no idea who she was, but this new person she was becoming surprised her every day.

“Okay,” she said to herself out loud, feeling as though she were being led by forces she had no control over, but was willing to give in to, to see where they led her. She turned on the radio in her car, and started singing, wondering if she was going a little nuts, or if she was sane. But what was sane anymore? It made no sense that Bill had died, especially at his age. And it made no sense that she was suddenly alone and that no one knew or cared where she was, and that she had spent a night in Vegas and was heading to the Grand Canyon now. She could only assume that she was a little off-kilter at the moment, but maybe it wasn't so bad. And by the next day she'd be home, and no one would ever know what she had done, or why. She didn't know herself why she was going there, as she drove through the desert singing out loud to a Norah Jones song. And as she thought about the past two days, all she could do was laugh. “Stephanie Adams, you are certifiably insane,” she said to herself in a clear strong voice. But the funny thing was she didn't feel insane at all. It was the most normal and rational she had ever felt. And it didn't matter what Bill thought of it, or if he liked it or not. He was gone. And she was here. She felt excited by what she was doing, and alive!

Stephanie left Las Vegas on Highway 93 and drove south to Interstate 40, and finally she took the last turn just before three o'clock, after crossing the state line into Arizona. She pulled up in front of the visitors' center at the south rim, where throngs of people were coming and going in hiking boots, with backpacks on, laughing and talking and excited to be there. It was one of the most important natural wonder destinations in the country and the world, and Stephanie felt exhilarated as she arrived. She parked her car in the lot and walked back to the center, to inquire about hikes she could take that late in the day. She wasn't up to an all-day hike in the hot sun, down to the canyon floor and back up again anyway. She just wanted to be there and soak up the magical atmosphere of a place she had wanted to see for most of her life. She had an innate sense that something she was about to see and feel there would make an important difference to her, and help her find peace, which she had needed desperately, and she was ready for it now. She changed into a pair of running shoes she had brought with her, and she was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, which she had changed into before she left Las Vegas, figuring she'd be too hot in jeans. And she took a water bottle with her, feeling as though she were on an important mission of some kind. She knew to the very depths of her soul that she was meant to be there. And she lined up at an information desk to ask about the shorter hikes. She could come back the next day for an all-day hike, but she wasn't sure she wanted to do that, and she was thinking about driving back to San Francisco that night. She liked driving at night. She could stop at a motel on the way if she got too tired.

The ranger at the information desk handed her some pamphlets in answer to her question, and her inquiry didn't seem unusual to him. Many people with younger children, or older members of the group weren't up to the rigorous hikes to the canyon floor, and only wanted to walk for a few hours. He suggested Bright Angel Trail to her, which he said would work, allow her to appreciate the canyon's beauty from several stopping points, and have her back up at the top in slightly less than three hours, which sounded perfect to her. He said the paths were clearly marked, and reminded her to take several bottles of water, and to wear sunscreen and a hat. He said it was a walk for which you didn't need a guide, and he told her that while it was a healthy hike, it wasn't overly arduous, and looking at her, he could tell that it would be easy for her. She thanked him, and taking the pamphlets with her, with more general information about the canyon, she walked back outside, and got in her car to drive three miles to the head of the trail, and parked. When she got to it, the trail was narrow, and wider in spots, with benches to rest. At one of the railings, she stood gazing at the breathtaking beauty of the canyon she had wanted to see all her life. She was in no hurry and began at a leisurely pace, and as he had said she would, she found it an easy hike.

She passed several small groups of people along the way, one of older people, another with children who were about ten or twelve years old. There was a group of young women who were talking and laughing and smiled at her as she went by, but for long stretches, she found herself alone on the path, enjoying the silence and the sounds of birds and insects, and the peace of nature all around her, always with the majesty of the Grand Canyon just within sight. It was the most beautiful spectacle she had ever seen. She stopped to sit on a bench once, to drink some water, and just enjoy the view. Then she continued walking, and the path got steeper as she went farther down. The ranger had told her at what point to turn back if she wanted to keep the hike to three hours. And when she reached the farthest point of the hike she was on, she wasn't winded and sat down on another bench to just revel in the view.

She was tempted to keep going, but she knew it would get even steeper after that, and would get her back to the top too late. Hikers who were returning to the top, and not booked for campsites at the bottom, were encouraged to be back before dark. If not, they were likely to run into problems and encounter risks that the rangers strongly urged them to avoid. And Stephanie planned to follow his advice. She was just sitting there, enjoying the view, with tears in her eyes, wishing she would never have to leave, and so grateful she had come. She was thinking about Bill, and wishing they had come here together, knowing he would have loved it too, although he was never as moved by nature as she was, but this was impossible to resist. The beauty of the Grand Canyon had touched her deeply. She was mesmerized by it, as she sensed some movement near her, and turned to see a man walking toward the bench, on his way up from the trail below. He was wearing jeans and a tank top, had long hair to his shoulders, and tattoos on both arms and his chest. There was nothing menacing about him, and he looked about her age, despite the long hair and tattoos. He smiled when he saw her, and she nodded, a little disappointed that another hiker had turned up to distract her and interrupt her reverie and silent communion with Bill. She felt so close to him here, as though he too were now free, and somewhere nearby in the beauty of nature and this amazing place. She was planning to leave in a few minutes, but wasn't ready to do so yet.

The hiker sat down on a rock near the bench she was sitting on, and turned to her.

“Gorgeous place, isn't it?” he said in a heavy southern drawl, trying to be pleasant. She didn't really want to talk, but she didn't want to be rude. There was something about nature that made one feel obliged to be congenial to everyone, but this time she wanted to be alone. She saw that he had powerful shoulders and looked athletic, and he was wearing hiking boots. She wondered if he had been hiking all day, although he was carrying no backpack with supplies. All he had was an old military surplus canteen slung over one tattooed arm. She noticed that he had an old pinup-style girl tattooed on one shoulder, with a name under it, and an eagle on the other side. “I come here every year, to get my head back on straight,” he told her, and she smiled. It was why she was there too. She wondered if most people did, or just as tourists to see one of the wonders of the world. In fact, she had come for both. “There's nothing like this place to feed the soul.”

“I know,” she finally answered him, her hair pulled back in a haphazard ponytail with an elastic she had found in her pocket when she started to get too warm. She looked very young with her blond hair and blue eyes. “I've always wanted to see it. It's even more beautiful than I thought it would be. It takes your breath away,” she said in an awed voice. He hadn't moved any closer, and was sitting on a rock nearby, sipping from his canteen. His face was flushed. He had walked at a good pace.

“It still does that to me, after all these years. I came here for the first time when I was a kid, and it just gets to me more every year.” She nodded, easily able to imagine that could be true. One would never tire of this, no matter how many times you saw it. And even seeing it for the first time, she knew she wanted to return. “Did you travel from far away?” he inquired casually, just being friendly to another hiker, not with any special interest in her. She felt nothing frightening or overly personal from him, he just seemed like a nice person.

“San Francisco. I was in Las Vegas last night, so I thought I'd stop here today on the way back.” As she said it, for a flash of an instant she remembered the stories one heard of female hikers being molested and murdered in other places, but he seemed so gentle that she felt guilty for her thoughts.

“That's when I get here too. I work in Vegas a couple of times a year.” He looked like he might be a transient worker of some kind. He wore no jewelry or watch, and the torn jeans and shirt he was wearing he could have gotten from Goodwill. And his hiking boots were ancient and battered and might have been secondhand too. She didn't ask him what kind of work he did in Vegas, just as he didn't ask her why she'd been there. The rules of the road on nature trails were to be friendly but not intrusive, and he respected the same boundaries she did. They were just fellow travelers on a common path. And she could easily imagine that the hiking trails here were well patrolled. This was not a wilderness trail, but a national monument and park.

They sat quietly for a few more minutes then, and she looked at her watch. It was the one Bill had given her on her last birthday, a small gold watch from Cartier that she loved and never took off. And it told her now that if she wanted to be at the top around six, it was time to leave and head back. She stood up, took another drink of water, nodded at the man sitting on the rock, and started up the path. As the ranger had predicted, she found it a little more challenging than she had on the way down, and five minutes later, the man who had been talking to her was on the path just behind her, moving at a faster pace than hers, with longer legs. He slowed as he came up next to her at a wider part of the trail.

“It's a little tougher on the way up. I've hiked to the bottom several times,” he informed her. “It's like climbing Everest coming back up.” She laughed at what he said, and was feeling the steepness of the path now. He showed no signs of going past her, and walked alongside her at what was a leisurely pace for him. But in some ways it was nice to have company, even from a stranger on the path. He pointed out several things to her that she wouldn't have noticed otherwise, and they watched a condor soar overhead. And they saw no other hikers for a while. They walked side by side silently most of the time, and she felt strangely as though he were walking beside her to protect her, or to help her if she needed a hand, which she didn't. He was a comforting presence, and not an intrusive one. There was something very peaceful about him. And after a while of mutual silence, he asked her a question. “What made you want to see the canyon now?” She could have answered anything, and she didn't want to seem pathetic as she had felt with the woman at the gas station in Las Vegas, but she decided to be honest, in the way one can be sometimes with strangers you know you'll never see again.

“My husband died four months ago. I just felt like I had to be here…to find peace.” She hadn't even realized that was why she had done it, but she knew it was true when she said it. He nodded as he listened.

“That's a good reason. I'm sorry about your husband.” And unlike most people, he sounded as though he meant it. “Was he sick for a long time?”

She shook her head as the path got steeper. “No. He had a heart attack on the ski slopes. It was very sudden. I'm still trying to deal with it and decide what to do next.” She felt strangely honest with him, like confession.

“This is a good place to think about things. I always do that here too. I work in a crazy business, and sometimes I feel like there's noise in my head all the time. I come here to get quiet.” And after he said it, they both noticed the silence around them, and the sounds of nature that they both loved.

“Where are you from?” she asked, finally curious about him too, although she didn't ask about the business. It could have been anything. She wondered what he did but didn't want to pry.

He laughed at her question. “Originally Arkansas, from a town of about seventy-five people. I live in Tennessee now. Nashville. It's a great place, but gets pretty nuts at times. I left Arkansas at fourteen and never looked back. Nashville is home now. I've lived there most of my life.” She listened to his drawl and smiled. He sounded like the country boy he was. It was a far cry from her mundane, dull life in San Francisco. “What did you do in Vegas last night?” he asked with interest, curious about her. He didn't meet women like Stephanie very often, and had noticed the expensive watch, although everything else she had on was very plain. She looked wholesome and serious, and he guessed that she had probably been married for a long time. She was still wearing her simple gold wedding band, although he knew now that she was a widow. And he assumed she had kids but didn't ask.

“I walked around,” Stephanie said with a smile. “I went to the casino and won four hundred dollars on the slot machines. I played a couple of hands of blackjack, but I'm not a gambler. I really enjoyed being there, and I went shopping today.” And then she decided to tell him the rest. “I actually took the wrong turn on the freeway, and headed toward Vegas by mistake. I'm glad I did.” She said it with eyes full of mischief, and he laughed.

“That's a hell of a wrong turn to take. Where did you start out?”

“Santa Barbara for the weekend with friends.” He laughed again. She was far off her normal path. She didn't tell him that no one knew she was there, which would have made her feel too unprotected, but to a limited degree, as best one could with a stranger, she felt safe walking next to him, and telling him the truth. “I'm going back to San Francisco tonight.”

“Did you go to any of the shows last night? Some of them are pretty good. I love the magic acts myself. I can never figure out how they do it. David Copperfield is the best. The guy is a genius. He lifts people right off the stage, and damn if I can ever guess how he does it.”

“I saw him once in L.A. He was amazing,” she agreed. “My son kept trying to lift his sister up for about six months afterward. He never did it.” She grinned as she said it, and so did he.

“What kind of music do you like?” he asked
conversationally.
They were almost back at the top by then.

“A little of everything. Ballads. Norah Jones. Alicia Keys, stuff I can sing along to.” She smiled.

“Country?”

“Sometimes. Rap when I have to, but my kids have grown past that.”

“You like to sing?” He had picked up on what she said, and she smiled and looked embarrassed.

“I used to sing with a choir, but I got too busy and gave it up. I guess I could go back to it now, but it's been a long time.”