Camino del Monte Sol Ch. 16 Conclusion (with OBTS) -- PG-13

[librarian_7]

Author’s Note: This story is a collaboration between OnceBitTwiceShy and myself for Champagne Challenge #128: Reader/Writer II. OBTS provided the idea of Josef visiting Santa Fe in the 1920’s, and running into…well, you’ll have to read the story. As you can tell from the chapter heading, yes, this is the end of our story…so far. My thanks to OBTS not only for the idea, but for her encouragement and input as the story progressed. This has been a delightful story to write, and I’m so pleased to have had the opportunity. And yes, my mind is already churning over details for a sequel.

There will be more information in the notes thread about the final paintings, and the custom of Zozobra in Santa Fe.

I don’t own Josef, or any of the historical locations and personages mentioned in the story. Any errors or misrepresentations of fact are mine.


Camino del Monte Sol


XV. Epilogue

I. Three Graces

Dear Stephen,

I won’t ask if this finds you well—I know you are always at the top of your form.

Please give my greetings and best wishes to Reza. I’m trusting her turn was without incident. You know, she and I spent a lot of time talking, before she went out to California. I won’t say we developed a friendship, but I think we came to understand one another better. I will say she gave the matter more thought and consideration than I would have expected, from our first meetings.

I fear Nash is taking it hard, and although Los Cinco Pintores continue, somehow the bonds between them are not as strong as they once were. Bakos says he thinks the group may not hold together too much longer, although I’m not sure any of them intend leaving Santa Fe any time soon.

Business at the gallery continues good. We’re getting a lot of local support, and the tourists seem to get more numerous every week. I’m thinking in a year or so, if all goes well, we might want to relocate to a larger building, perhaps on Canyon Road. The artists’ colony seems to be gravitating that way, and I wouldn’t mind being around the corner from Camino del Monte Sol.

Oh—I know you’re not much interested in local gossip, but I have an anecdote you might find amusing. You remember Witt Bynner? That poet from New York who throws the delightful parties? I’m pretty sure you met him when you were here. Anyway, his lover has recently moved to Santa Fe to be with him, and it’s the talk of the town. Arthur seems like a rather sweet man, and it’s touching to see them walking in the Plaza holding hands. Of course, it’s the scandal of the season, although since everyone here prides themselves on being so tolerant, they always preface remarks about the two of them with comments like, “Of course it doesn’t bother me, but…” or, “I’ve always loved Witt…” I shudder to think what they were saying about the four of us, when we first came to town. (And they didn’t know the half of it, did they?) But something so mundane as an unmarried couple cohabiting, doesn’t even raise an eyebrow, among the people who really matter.

And this brings me, in a roundabout way, to my big news. I suppose it may not mean much to you, but I’ve developed a close bond with your friend Bakos. In fact, Jozef and I are expecting a child in the spring. With your permission, we’d like to name the child Stephen, if it’s a son. (We’re still wrangling over Stephanie or Stefanya for a girl, but I expect I’ll bring him around to the reasonable choice in good time. We have months to go yet.)

I do look forward to your next visit, and wanted to assure you that I will always be your Thea, even though Jozef has decided he prefers my middle name, and I am rapidly becoming known by it in Santa Fe. That exotic—for here, anyway—creature Dorothea Jones is vanishing, replaced by a Santa Fean with a quite different name. So I will sign this, with every affection,

Teresa Bakos


II. Zozobra

Nash heard the door of his studio open, without the courtesy of a knock. He didn’t bother to turn on the cot where he’d flung himself down to stare at the pattern of the heavy round roof beams, the vigas, overhead.

Mruk and Ellis paused to look at the work on the easel. It was a charcoal of a nude woman, leaning back to brace her hands on a bench or shelf behind her, her body open to the artist’s gaze, the darkly shadowed cleft between her legs in sight. Only her face was turned away, screened by a fall of dark hair that parted to leave her throat visible in a pale, inverted delta. The strong lines that outlined her hips and breasts somehow managed to leave an impression of rich, creamy skin and flesh. And behind her, barely a suggestion in the shadows, another figure lurked, a sleek man in a dark suit, his head inclining toward the woman’s neck.

Ellis spoke first, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “This is the new work, then?”

Nash didn’t bother to answer, his chest still tight with loss. “Ah, Reza, Therésa,” he thought. He’d thought..Kostan had been gone. For months. He’d thought Reza was safe, that the interloper’s influence had vanished. She’d alternated between being quieter than before, and more hectic. He’d realized too late, she was gradually saying farewell.

Mruk was judging more critically. “The woman,” he said, “the woman is good. But that other figure—you need to erase him out of the scene. He’s not needed.”

“I paint what I see.”

Mruk stroked his chin, the teacher in him coming out. “Yes, yes,” he said, “but you must consider your audience. The nude woman alone is almost abstract, a study in light and shadow. When you add the man, it becomes reality, not art. He has no business there. You understand?”

“I suppose,” Nash said, still not looking at his visitors. “Did you come in here for any reason besides to critique my work?”

“As a matter of fact, old boy, we did,” Ellis remarked. “Fiesta is starting this evening, and Shuster has something special concocted for you.”

Mruk nodded. “Not to mention, the women have been cooking all day. It’s a feast.”

Nash laid a forearm across his eyes. “I’m not interested.”

“And we have wine. Bakos brought it in from somewhere out near Tesuque,” Ellis added. “Come out, dance, eat, drink. You’ll feel better.”

“Oh, all right.” Nash swung his feet off the cot, searching fro the leather sandals he’d kicked off when he laid down. The September evening was coming on, the shadows growing longer and cooler. “What is this surprise Shuster’s made?”

“You’ll see.”

In the courtyard of the compound, a large effigy stood amid a welter of firewood. At least ten feet tall, it was a grotesque puppet, surmounted by a plaster head with white skin and a gaping, distorted, scarlet mouth. Long arms, supported by slender pinon poles reached out menacingly in the gloom.

“What in the world!” Nash exclaimed.

Shuster, already half in the bag, beamed at him. “I call him Zozobra,” he said. “It’s fiesta, and we’re going to banish Old Man Gloom by burning him.”

“He looks—he looks a good bit like our friend Kostan,” Nash mused.

“Well, I wouldn’t stand too close when he’s lighted,” Bakos said. “Shuster’s filled him with firecrackers and other assorted nonsense. He’s likely to go up like a roman candle.” He helped himself to a large glass of wine from one of the many bottles standing on a nearby table.

Nash laughed. “Old Man Gloom, eh? He wouldn’t like that at all, would he?”

Shuster grinned at him. “Amd that would be the point. You want to do the honors, Willard?”

Nash nodded, his smile sardonic in the gathering dark. In the distance, he could hear music and laughter from the Plaza, as fiesta began in earnest. Winter might be coming on, but the five of them had their art to sustain them, and tonight there would be feasting and drinking. And the beginnings of forgetfulness.

He took a taper from a candelabra on the table, careful not to drip the wax into a nearby bowl of red chile posole, and approached the effigy.

As he studied where best to light the fire, he had a sudden picture in his mind’s eye, of Kostan and Therésa, and found, to his surprise, that it brought him no pain. He plunged the taper into the heart of the mounded kindling, and retreated to stand with his friends.

While the fire caught, someone handed him a full glass of wine and he held it up, laughing, as Zozobra exploded, throwing fantastic flames into the sky, lighting up the tops of the cottonwoods.

“Goodbye, Old Man Gloom,” he said, and the rest repeated the toast, watching the ashes twirl up into the night.



AN: There does exist a painting by Willard Nash of Three Figures, and at one time, it hung in the Los Angeles County Art Museum, which is (coincidentally?) housed in a building directly next to the La Brea Tar Pits…

[eris]

I will not say J went out with a bang.

I will not say J went out with a bang.

I will not say J went out with a bang.

I will not say J went out with a bang.

I will not say J went out with a bang.

I will not say....

[librarian_7]

Well, it certainly wasn't a whimper!

Lucky

[allegrita]

Wow--what a boffo finish! Lucky and OBTS, I have enjoyed this story so much, and this final chapter has done a remarkable job of wrapping up the story while opening up a world of new opportunities. Thank you for introducing me to the world of Los Cinco Pintores. I've enjoyed it more than I can say. I've loved the Santa Fe area for many years, and this story has incorporated many favorite locations. Next time I go, I will look at that beautiful town with new eyes, imagining Josef, Reza, Nash, Bakos, Thea, and all the rest walking the streets. They fit so well there.

[librarian_7]

I may have to see if I can summon up the photoshop skills to mark a map with all the locations...it would be fun to do!

And many thanks for following along with the saga. I've been to Santa Fe many times, driven and walked the streets around the Plaza more times than I can remember...and I learned some new things about the city doing research for this story! I'm going to miss Stephen and Reza and Thea and the rest. They were great fun to write.

Lucky

[jen]

Lucky and OBTS

Brava

This was wonderful!

I expecially loved how much of the local flavor you incorporated into this wonderful, and very character driven story. The writer experiences the surroundings.

Fabulous job!

Thank you!

[francis]

This was a great ending. I love that Thea/Teresa wrote a letter to Stephan and gave an account of the new happenings. Bakos sure got the best deal out of this.
Nash has good friends who brought him out of his gloom and heartache in a rather creative way, as artists are. Old Man Gloom would certainly not be a name Josef would approve of. And he surely wouldn't approve of a voodoo puppet with his likenessbeing burned on a stake. But the ends justify the means, and Nash feels better.
The whole story was so layered, with so much history and atmosphere. I never really cared much for this part of the US being quite uneducated about its history and geography, but you made me curious about it.
Thank you!

[darkstarrising]

Lucky and OBTS,

Stephen got Reza, Theo got Bakos and in the final chapter, Nash was able to let go of Reza and his pain. How appropriate that Old Man Gloom turns into nothing more than a pile of ash.....the irony wouldn't have been lost on Stephen.

Wonderful, wonderful story full of imagery not only of the Southwest, but of the souls who brought it to life.

[NightAir]

Nash was never going to be able to hold onto Reza. Perhaps on some level he knew that. And he had friends to help get him out of his funk. I would have loved to see Stephen's expression over their method, though.

Lucky, your description of Santa Fe brought it to life. If I ever get a chance to travel to the Southwest, I'll have to make a point of seeing it.

[librarian_7]

I've loved Santa Fe since my first visit there, back in the 1960s. So I'm very glad if our story has painted an interesting picture of it. And yes, the geography and buildings I've put in, do exist. You can use Google Earth to make the walk from the Plaza to Camino del Monte Sol.

Thanks so much for reading...this is a special one for me, because of the setting.

Lucky

[RangerCM]

very nice . Artists have such a creative way of dealing with pain .

[jen]

Lucky

This is absolutely delicious!

You have captured the sleepy feel of the place and the people, and splashed with warm colors and a good bit of heat, too. This was a perfect conclusion to what came before.

Love that hint about a sequel. I will be lurking.

Thank you!

Jenna