The man, who looks to be sitting in the water, waves us over.
"We either say hi, or make a run for it," Cecily says. "Although, it's never a good idea to run in the desert. Too many loose rocks, uneven ground. At best, you roll an ankle. At worst, you fall into a cactus."
I'm not sure which of those misfortunes I would rather experience, but for now it appears we're going to make a new friend. The guy is still waving, but his hand has changed from a motion ofhelloto one of beckoning.
"Unbelievable," Cecily mutters, as I make my way down to where the trees provide shade. "Here I was thinking deserts were deserted."
We make it fifteen more feet before we see everything the trees hid. And when I say everything, I mean it.
Several more people sit in the water, men and women, and from what I can tell, their upper halves are not clothed, leading me to believe their lower halves aren't either. Cecily gasps. "Are theynude?" she whispers.
"I think they might be," I say under my breath.
"Nude desert dwellers," Cecily says against the fabric of my shirt. My abs contract with the effort it takes to hold in my laughter. Cecily grins up at me, holding fast to my bicep.
Yeah, I love it. The way she clings to me.
Closer now, I see the man who called out to us is at least sixty. He is mostly bald, with just a handful of hair neatly combed over the top of his head. His generous belly rises out of the surface of the water like a landmass in the ocean. His thick chest hair swirls this way and that.
"You and the missus look shy. Don't be," he says jovially. In an odd way, he reminds me of my dad.
Shy isn't the word I would use to describe us, clinging to the safety of land ten feet away from the bank. More likepetrified.
"Remember, all comfort levels are welcome at Buena Mesa," he says, with an air of friendly leadership. "Clothing is optional, so you can wear your swimsuit. Though I will say, the hot spring is better when you're in a state of nature." A murmur of agreement winds through the group.
I'm going to make the leap thatstate of natureequates tonaked."We're ok, thank you for offering." Not only am I uninterested in sitting in nature's bathwater with a bunch of naked strangers, I don't want to invite conversation. It's obvious this man thinks we are guests of whatever Buena Mesa is, and who knows what will happen if he finds out we stumbled upon them. The last thing I need is to be chased through the desert by a sixty-year-old man and his flaccid penis.
Cecily draws in a shocked breath. Her gaze is locked on somebody in the water. "Mrs. Abbot?"
A woman turns. She is older too, her hair a blondish-gray, and clipped on top of her head. "Hello, dear," she says, voice warm with recognition. "You're not the first former student I've run into at Buena Mesa." She smiles serenely and adds, "Don't even think of asking me who, because we believe in everybody's right to privacy. Just like I won't be repeating that I saw you."
"Thanks?" Cecily's voice shakes. She pinches my arm, and I take it as a distress signal.
"We're going to continue our nature walk," I tell the group.
This is when the friendly leader takes it upon himself to be unnecessarily friendly. He lumbers up out of the water, marching toward us. Cecily squeaks and ducks behind me. The friendly leader is undeterred.
"Johann Bradford," he declares, extending his hand. Water drips from his fingers, from his entire body. He's close enough now that I can only really look into his eyes, and thank goodness for that. His trek over to us will be burned into my memory for the rest of time.
Swallowing my horror, I place my hand in his. How long will it be before I can douse it in soap and place it under scalding water? Longer than I'd like.
"Klein Madigan," I lie. I hope they mean what they say about privacy, because if Klein's career skyrockets the way I hope it will following his book release, we're going to need that discretion.
"Nice to meet you, Klein," Johann says enthusiastically. He leans left, to look at Cecily. "And you are?"
She leans over also, sending him a small wave. "Mrs. Madigan."
He nods. "You're new here, aren't ya?"
"What gave it away?" Cecily asks.
"I can always spot the first-timers. One of my jobs is to serve as an example of how to live nude without embarrassment." He takes a step back. Opens his arms wide. "It's ok to be shy, but you don't have to be. We're a wholesome place."
I will never hear the wordwholesomethe same way again.
"Don't miss the pickleball tournament this evening," he adds. "It's always a good time."
"Ok, well, thank you for the warm welcome," Cecily says, wrapping her hands around my arm and tugging. I offer a wave, and Mrs. Abbot merrily obliges.
