We were engaged in his mind for sure. I had to stop and remind myself. I needed to be clinical and not gloss it over. "Depending on what your Bishop says, we might have to wait a year."

            "Because I am not a member in good standing?"

            "You've said so yourself."

            "I paid my tithing."

            "And they let you?"

            "Yeah. I did it online. I just did it, I called and got my membership number...."

            "How did you know to do that?"

            "I was messing around on the church website. I saw this whole MY ACCOUNT thing and wanted to know what it was. So I called my dad and he put me in touch with the ward clerk."

            "Nice."

            "Nobody said anything."

            "Hm.... Then I don't know. Have you talked to your Bishop?"

            "Hm."

            "You should talk to him. The sooner the better."

            He was quiet for a few minutes, thinking that through and finally came to the conclusion I had been waiting for. "Why don't we just do like Kell and Maille? We could get married at a Justice of the Peace, and then—."

            I shook my head. "I'm not Maille."

            "But---."

            "I'm not getting married at a justice of the peace."

            "But it would be legal and we could be together."

            I just stared at him, and finally away. He knew I meant it. It was hard, I'd already caved in on other things. It was hard for both of us. But I was firm about it. I wasn't getting married at a Justice of the Peace. I just wasn't.

            We arrived. It had been an hour. The resort parking lot was just this little thing nestled inside a red rock canyon on a dirt road, with blowing grasses all around. The sky was faintly blue, mostly white. The sun was already blazing hot. The guys got out, Jeremy turned and waited for me to hold my hand and help me out. I thought Rafe might have a heart attack. But he'd chosen to sit as far away from the door as possible. I figured he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

            Ben had researched the place. He knew where he wanted to go and what he wanted to do. He said I had given him the idea yesterday, but I wasn't sure when I'd talked about mountain biking, hiking or looking at archeological digs.

            We rented mountain bikes, and helmets. I started taking pictures. I felt giddy and crazy and happy, very free right now. Very enthusiastic. This kind of set the tone then for the rest of them.

            The trails were just about five minutes from the parking lot, and the first of seven waterfall pools was about fifteen minutes away. We went single file, and there was quite a bit of laughing, good-natured ribbing, and jokes about no cussing. Jeremy and Levi had to join the no cussing club, or owe me money. They made a few slip ups and we all cut them a little slack, since it was sprung on them as we were riding. But then eventually Jeff caught Jeremy in a cuss word and he collected for me. That was a triumph for me.

            The first pool literally took my breath away.

            "I've never seen anything like it!" I breathed as we crested the top and then urged ourselves down to the soft spots above the water's edge. The waterfall here was just a trickle, and it was early yet, so there weren't any other people, but I stripped off the backpack and shoes and waded in. Rafe caught me around the waist from behind and twisted till we both fell in. It wasn't deep enough to dive in, but the splash was monstrous. It felt incredible. Not cold at all.

            Pretty soon there seven of us in the water, splashing, wrestling, dunking and just sitting, soaking it all up. They were just big kids when it came to horsing around.

I can't even describe the kind of laughter and release of tension this kind of play engenders. There was plenty of insulting playful remarks,  and most of them originated with Rafe, as the natural leader, but many of them centered on him as well, and he took it in stride. He was always positive, directing jokes to a less negative genre.

Soon we were cooled off and wanted to ride to the next pool which was just another ten minutes up the trail.

The trails were well marked with names and distances. Rafe read Spanish as well as he spoke it, so he could tell us every time we came to a fork. I felt the admiration these guys all had for him, with their own mix of confidence and pleasure drifting in and out of the conversation as well.

The second pool was deep enough to dive. There was another couple there, sunbathing, so we took some pictures and went on. It wasn't far to the pictographs, and took a little climbing too. That was exhilarating, and the view from the cliff sides was spectacular.

"So, according to your Book of Mormon..." Jeff said to me when we were plastering our hands to the pictographs we could reach, feeling the texture of the old rocks, and the unguarded ambivalence of it. "Who made these pictographs?"

"My Book of Mormon?" I glanced at him, seeing just about everybody else shut up and start listening as I said it. They didn't want to ask, but they did want to hear. Rafe was boosting Ben up so he could take a picture inside a cave opening.

"You're the only one here who knows anything about it, except, I know that the ancient inhabitants of this area were ----well, I don't know for sure who they were, but I think somebody once said they were the Lamanites and the Nephites."

I leaned against the rock and took a swig of water, staring unseeing out over the stark and rugged landscape of desert rocks and cactus. A fly buzzed close and I swatted at it. Sweat trickled down my back. This was it---- the can of worms. He seemed interested--- but I didn't want to be accused of pushing religion on them. I decided to take the plunge---- in as clinical of a way as possible.

"Well, the Lamanites and Nephites came here in 600 B.C. The oldest ruins we are aware of here in Mexico, are dated just prior to B.C. They say they are Mayan, but they were Toltec first. There are possibly older ruins, but they aren't completely able to date them. There was a lot of destruction of the older cities and the people just built on top."

"Who are the Lamanites and Nephites?" Levi came up, so I told him, and basically the rest of them about Lehi's family leaving Jerusalem and coming to this place, and splitting up and forming the two nations. I told them about the Jaredites, and the Mulekites. I put it all in context in as historical of a fashion as I could, eyeing them for boredom. They all seemed really eager to hear.

Jeff was the only one who gave me a funny look. His eyebrows drew together harshly in the center of his forehead like he was deeply contemplating. He might have been. I didn't know his expressions well.

"Let's ride." Rafe kicked off much to my relief. His encouraging smile gave me peace.

At the next pool, we kicked off our shoes and socks again, and the rocks were such that we could dangle our feet in the water. The guys wanted to continue this conversation, starting with Jeff himself: "So you're saying that the Nephites came in 600 BC and the Mayans were like what?"

I felt a strange clenching of my heart, not liking to be the one on display, the center of all of their attention, not knowing if they were asking out of true curiosity or because I was the new person and they were being polite. Rafe sat beside me, his arms back, his t-shirt wrapped around his neck, as he soaked up some sun. He seemed casually unconcerned.

"The Mayans were maybe 2 to 300 BC, to about 1150 AD, but that encompasses a lot of time, and maybe they weren't as numerous, or in that form. We know the Aztecs who ruled at the time of Cortez were overlapping the Mayans too, but they might have been like 900 to 1375. They built their city mostly in the area of Mexico City."

Rafe's fingers tickled against my butt where it squished against the rock. Did he want me to stop? I slid my gaze to his and gave him the opportunity to stop me. But he winked. "You know too much." He whispered so just I could hear.

"Do you think the Mayans were the Nephites?" Jeff went on.

I shrugged and blew out my breath. It wasn't in me to ignore a sincere query if asked. My doctor's training included answering all genuine searches for knowledge. If I had the knowledge, I felt obligated to share it. "Like the Bible, the narrative only follows those who were believers. Lots of people are offshoots. I think there are plenty of splinter tribes. But yeah, personally—and I don't know if there is any real evidence of this--- but my reading has led me to believe the Toltec's and Mayans sprang from the Lamanites and Nephites. To me, I see the way they worshipped as described in the Book of Mormon, I see a lot of compatibility. Especially later, at around the time of Cortez--- the white feathered God that came to save them--- they were waiting for a white God, a feathered serpent--- Jesus Christ came to these people in AD 34. They were told to wait for him to return. They were still waiting, when Montezuma the First welcomed the Spaniards to their shores and got massacred. They knelt to worship Cortes, because they thought he was a God."

Rafe was no longer tickling me, he was silent, thinking. All of them were to some degree interested. Some had more background knowledge than others. Nobody wanted to argue.

"The Aztecs and Mayans worshiped the sun." Mutt said. They all looked up at him. I noticed he was kind of revered when he spoke since he did so randomly and infrequently.

I shrugged again. "The sun? Or the SON? As is referenced many times in Native American lore. The terms are synonymous.  Symbolism is common, as you see here in the pictographs." I indicated the beautiful depictions of the sun and the feathered Gods. It sort of made sense just right here, looking at it.

We trooped back the way we'd come to our bikes and went on to the next pool and waterfall, to resume the crazy diving and jumping and wrestling, until I discovered the mud pools above the waterfalls. It took a little bit of a climb, but I was enthralled instantly and sat in the warm mud before anyone else arrived.

As Rafe hauled himself over the boulders that lined the entrance to the mud pool, I heard his low whistle and watched as his eyes lit on me, sitting squarely in the shallow, soft, brown and gray clayish mud. There were yucky, oozing mud pools and buzzing swampy mud pools---- I'd been to a few. But this was neither. It was too high and too well fed from the pond above. There was no buzzing, and no smell.

"Now this is a new one." He'd replaced his shirt, now he took it off again and tossed it next to mine on a rock.

"Have you never been to a mud pool?"

"First time." His eyes were very light as he eased his feet in at the edge. The slime and squish pooled up and around him instantly. It was warm, but not hot, and there were no plants or pebbles. It wasn't silty, or briny. It was the kind of mud you might have played with making mud pies as a kid.

He eased himself to a seated position, his face squeezed into an expression of disgust and intrigue. He let the mud slide through his knobby fingers, staring at it, washing it off in the top layer of water in some of the puddles.

"This is fantastic." He murmured and then looked up, catching my eyes.

"Oh ho!" I rolled away, deeper. "I'm just basking."

"Bask with me then." He rolled my way, completely covering himself in gray-brown slime.

It felt gross at first, sticky---- rich and mucky. We both smeared it on each others backs and stomachs and arms.

"It's probably good for you, right?" Rafe crawled up between my bent knees, his hands smearing guck on my stomach.

I swallowed, hoping none of the other guys were on their way up. "Probably. Mud baths ought to be good for something."

"In your professional medical experience? Surely you'd have heard?" His eyes were intent, as I plastered his neck with mud.

I smeared it on his chest, all over his back and then he laid on me and rubbed himself all over me, sliding in sensual imagination all over as he instigated very muddy kisses. It did feel erotic.

"Rafe..." It was too erotic, especially after we'd just talked about marriage and weddings and all that. His ardor was apparent, and extremely alluring.

"Aubrey---."  The unspoken words were still there between us, and all else was forgotten. He lay beside me as I lay on my back, his hands running mud up and down my sides, slipping now and then into forbidden territory, as my fingers found sensitive spots on him also.

My hands were free to roam, but his were under my t-shirt, plastering my skin with goo. His kisses stayed on my lips now, they had to, as the only non-smeared places. Until he simply pulled the  t-shirt off me, and lowered his lips to my breasts. I pushed against his face. "Rafe... no."

He held me there while the mud slid in around us, his leg rode up mine and his hands pulled at the shorts as well. Those same silly noises he made as if I were delicious. I barely heard the footsteps and catcalls coming up the path. My breath came out hard, too late.

******