Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery

Chapter 12

I took a sip of my raspberry tea, staring at the glowing monitor on my inlaid-wood desk. It had been a long day, but I had begun to catch up on the work that had stacked up these past two weeks. A comforting sense of accomplishment blossomed within me.

I glanced up at the pair of windows which lay before me and my brow creased in curiosity. I'd lived in Sutton for sixteen years and had seen about every face it could show. The coy, gentle mists of spring, the sultry, humid evenings in the summer, the nose-searing, frigid tundras of deep winter. But this was something new.

The sky was glowing salmon.

I stared at it for a long moment, then picked my camera up off the desk and headed to the front door. As I came down the front steps, I looked up – and stopped.

There before me was a fully formed rainbow. I could see every detail of it, the shimmering colors from ruby red through tangerine orange to the duskiest violet. The trees in my front yard played peek-a-boo with its shape, but it was clearly there.

I smiled with delight as I walked across the lawn to my driveway, then out to the street, strolling a few houses down to the left to get a better view over my neighbor's house. Most homes in my neighborhood had left their trees intact around them – Sutton was a "Tree City" after all – but this particular neighbor had cleared out slightly more than the rest and this afforded me a better view of the full rainbow. The traffic on our street, always light to begin with, was non-existent at the moment. It was only 4:30 p.m. and the commuters had not begun their homeward trek. The street and the rainbow were mine alone.

I wondered how many people were slogging away indoors on tasks for a demanding boss. How many were glued to their computer screens, as I had been, missing out on nature's beauty? Was a large portion of the population playing Farmville or watching reruns of Survivor and missing out on this glowing kaleidoscope of beauty?

Suddenly there was an odd ache in my heart; I wished Jason was there by my side. For so long I had been self-reliant, had forced myself to appreciate the glory of nature on my own. I would sit by the waterfall at the Blackstone River, thrilling at the rush of power and strength of the spring's deluge, and thinking that perhaps it was meant for me alone. I had strived to take pleasure in the solitude, for lingering in sadness over it seemed to do no good. And yet ...

I breathed in deeply, the colors before me seeming to flutter and pulse. It was spectacular. Perhaps my photos would hold some small measure of the beauty, and I could share them.

A thought came to me, warming me to my core. Maybe Jason was watching this very rainbow. He spent a lot of time outdoors; from our walks I knew he was just as much in tune with the world around him as I was. Surely he would have noticed the rich pink tinge of the sky, the beautiful half-circle of reflected light high above.

We were sharing it together.

At last a faint chill seeped through me. I had run out of the house without putting on a jacket and we were half-way into November, after all. Giving one last thought to those who had missed this stunning display of light and refraction, I turned.

And stopped.

I was now facing west. Before me was one of the most stunning sunsets I had ever witnessed. The entire sky was ablaze in golden color. There was brilliant yellow, soft tangerine, rich orange, softer amber, and a plethora of colors I could not even find names for. It was richer than any painting I had seen. The clouds streaked and stretched through the colors, adding a flame-like texture to the display.

I smiled, and then began laughing as the beauty of it thrilled through me. Here I had been staring at the rainbow, feeling sorry for those who were missing the kaleidoscope that was right outside their window. And I, myself, had been holding my back to one of the most stunning displays of nature in my life. It had been right there. It had literally required only the slight turn of my head to see. And I had almost missed it. I had been completely unaware of its presence.