by Diana Stone
“What do you plan on doing with your life, long-term?” he casually asks.
I need to answer carefully as I tread through this minefield. “I’m mending from my divorce and don’t want to make any quick decisions. Right now, I’m just enjoying riding my horses and living without too many responsibilities,” I take a sip of beer. “If we have a wet winter, it’ll hurt the trail rides. I still have my insurance business, so if I need to I can go back to that.”
“You have your own business? I wondered what you were doing between the time of your divorce and the trail ride job.”
“Oh yes, I’m a regular person with a regular job.”
We chat a while about the health insurance business. He knows about insurance which surprises me. Being a businessman, he has his fingers in a lot of enterprises. That’s appealing, he’s a man of many talents.
“Do you handle liability insurance?” he asks.
“No, I specialize in health and long-term care insurance. Do you have a problem or just a general question?”
“Remember I told you I’m looking at expanding my winery? I need to decide whether it’s worth it, or if I should keep doing the same old thing. I’ve met my goals for the winery, so I’m asking myself if I want to go out on a limb and expand. It’s a tough question,” he runs his hand through his hair. “I’m getting quotes on everything I’ll need.”
“Right, I think I understand. It’s the same with my life, I’m happy enough at the moment. I don’t want to work long hard hours to buy things I don’t need. Money is great, but earning it takes so much time. It’s like a hamster on a wheel, you’re always running, just to keep up.”
“You aren’t interested in money?” he queries.
“I am, but I have what I want. My horses are important to me. My life is easy since I’m living in my horse trailer. It’s temporary, so this works for now. I own a house in Ventura that I’m renting out. This way I have my freedom and time to figure out what I want to do with my future.”
I’m living in my horse trailer sounds pitiful, I shouldn’t have said that!
“I understand. You’re an independent woman and you want to do it right, but don’t you want to get married again? Wouldn’t you prefer to worry less about your financial security, and have a partner to share life with?”
“Yes, in theory, I’d like to get remarried, but only if he’s a lot better than my ex. You’re married, but not happily married. Though as a man, you’re free to build your business. You’re the one with the power, and ability to grow and develop it as you want. My marriage stifled me. He refused to take my advice on the business, so we grew apart… and he found someone else. I want to be recognized for who I am and how I contribute,” I pause, “I guess I’m not as over it as I’d hoped, and I don’t really believe I’ll find someone.” I’m getting worked up.
“You need a husband who acknowledges your contribution. Now you’re starting over and questioning your life and relationships with men. Not all men are jerks.”
“I guess I’m lugging around a lot of baggage.”
“Baggage… I think we all have some,” he admits.
“So what’s yours?” Come on, tell me.
“Like everyone else, I hoped to find a good partner, but it turned out otherwise.”
“But you’re still married,” I point out.
“Yes, but most of the time she’s down in L.A. There isn’t much left of my marriage.”
We covered this when he came to the barn with his picnic, so I won’t keep digging if he is only willing to give me general information. I could keep asking, but he wouldn’t like it.
“What do you want from your future?” he casually asks, once again.
It’s like he’s feeling me out, testing the waters. I’ve often had these questions from first dates.
“I need to figure out where I want to live and what I want to do with my life that has passion in it,” I pause, looking for a better answer. “For so many years I felt stuck. It’s hard to combine two very different personalities into a marriage. I’m enjoying my freedom from being controlled, pushed and guided.” I hope this doesn’t scare him off.
“You’ve spoken about freedom several times. I see it’s important to you.”
“Yeah, it is. I’m not in a hurry to get married, or even into a relationship. I’m so sick of the whole thing,” I tap my finger on my chin, thinking. “On the other hand, there are a few good men out there, and I’d like one—though I’m wary about the whole dating process.”
“Right, like with my wife. Some people pretend to be one thing, then later you find out they aren’t like that at all,” he reveals.
That’s pretty much all he says about his relationship. I’ll have to give this some thought, later. For a while the conversation swings back to beer and pizza.
“I had Dr. Simon out the other night for a colic. He told me about your vortex and that it saved your old horse.”
“Yes, it did. I had nothing to lose with Old Glory, he was having problems,” he nods his head. “I can tell you, the poor thing hobbled up the canyon. Then he jumped around like a colt after being in the vortex for a while. I also wrapped his legs in native plant poultices. He’s still looking good and it’s been a few months.”
I look down and take a sip of beer, “It sounds long-lasting.”
He explains, “I use sage as a pain reliever. I make it into a lotion and it seems to work. When I use it on Glory he moves better.”
“Can I have the recipe, or is it an ancient secret?”
Wow, he’s into natural healing.
“Sure, it’s on a .PDF, I’ll send it to you.”
“You’re lucky to have a vortex in your backyard. Did you feel anything?”
“What happened is weird. It felt like I was spinning and off balance. I got goosebumps, and it felt something like little rivers flowing through me. My thoughts were floaty and vague,” he recalls. “A healer told me to think good thoughts, so I was trying to do that,” he twists the paper napkin on the table. “Glory pulled me around, and he reared and kicked a few times. I lost hold of his rope. He stayed in there but was still acting up. I stumbled around, then rolled out of the entrance and got back to normal,” he takes a deep breath. “I watched him stand still for quite a while… maybe 15 minutes. Then he shook like a wet dog and galloped in a circle. I grabbed the lead rope as he ran past me and I pulled him out. Leading him back to the barn, he was jumping around like he was going to a race. I didn’t like the feeling, but if my other race horses have trouble I’ll do it again.”
“I think Monica said she tried it with Alex, but it didn’t work.”
“I was out of town. It might have been too late for him, even if it had worked. I don’t know. When you get down to the last resort it’s often too late. Poor Alex, he was a great guy. The good ones go too soon,” he gives a soft smile, remembering.
I wait a few moments, “Would it be okay if I went there to see what it feels like?”
He slowly answers, “Well, I’d rather you not. We don’t understand what it does, it may do bad things to healthy people. I’d hate for you to get hurt, I don’t want you to be a guinea pig. The wild animals stay away from it.”
“Okay, but I’ll keep it in mind if I need substantial help.” I won’t mess with something that’s out of this world and unknown, without having a good reason.
We keep talking for a while, and I see he’s a down-to-earth guy. He doesn’t seem to have any issues… he isn’t too macho and I don’t think he’s a snob. From what I can tell he has good business sense. He’ll be doing more to bring community events to his winery. That sounds fun. I’d like to see him again, that’s for sure.
“Well Jess, I’ve had a nice evening with you, but I have to get back to work. I’m going over building plans with the grader. The less dirt you move, the less expensive it is. Plus, I hate to mess with this land. It’s so beautiful, I’m trying to keep it as undisturbed as possible.”
“I had
a great time, thank you. And I’m glad to hear you care about your land.”
“I try.”
He signals to the gal we’re ready to leave. He settles our tab and walks me to the truck.
I unlock and open it, and wait in the doorway for a second. He leans his right arm against the back door, sort of barricading me in, and then looks deeply into my eyes. He smiles, takes a deep breath, but then hesitates and steps back. He again thanks me for the lovely evening. I thank him, get in, and drive out of the parking lot toward home.
17
Ssssss!
I know he was going to kiss me. He was setting it up, leaning toward me… but he changed his mind. At least he finds me attractive, that’s the first step. But I have to face reality, he may not want a relationship with me. He might just want to sleep with me, but maybe he didn’t want to broach that subject right now.
He seems stuck in his bad marriage. Hey guy, if it’s that bad, then stop complaining and get out. I don’t feel that I’m stepping in and ruining it. He told me he’s getting a divorce and his wife lives in L.A. Things take time, and hopefully I’ll be available when the right time comes. I also think I should keep doing my own thing. I won’t bet it all on Jack Courtland.
It was a good evening. I got to know him a little better and I didn’t throw myself at him. No stress, no pressure. I enjoyed myself, so even if nothing happens I had a nice evening. I went beer tasting for the first time and it got me out of the barn.
My drive home is through the quiet roads east of Solvang. There are few street lights and the road is empty. I’m humming along with a Billy Joel song playing on the radio. My right is hand making musical circles in the air while my head and shoulders are moving to the rhythm.
There’s a rustling noise in the back of the cab. It sounds as though something slipped off the seat. The truck is a diesel and makes quite a racket, so I can’t be sure. I flick a glance over my shoulder… I don’t see anything.
Wait… there’s something on my right leg… it’s cold and moving against my thigh! I look down and see…
A snake!
I take my foot off the gas and take a quick look down. My eyes bulge and I suck in a gulp of air, then stop breathing for a moment or more—many more.
It has brown splotchy diamonds on its back. Gopher snakes have brown diamonds too… Please be a gopher snake.
My mind keeps repeating, “A Snake. A Snake.”
I’m not afraid of gopher snakes, but this one is pretty big. This one is now sliding onto my lap.
“Get off me!” I whisper in panic.
I don’t see the low center island in the middle of the road as I drive bumping and jarring across it. The truck shakes and makes a metal scraping noise. My body is yelling for me to do something, but my head doesn’t know what. Jamming my foot on the brake, the truck skids to a stop, spewing the smell of brakes and rubber into the air.
Looking down again, I see it isn’t a gopher snake… no, not at all. It has a large white rattle at the end of its tail!
It’s a rattlesnake curled up in my lap, soaking up the warmth of the heater blowing on it… just like a cat.
We’re both sitting quietly, neither of us moving… except for his tongue, flicking in and out of his mouth. Testing the air for prey.
I’m keeping absolutely still. I’m not blinking, I’m barely breathing. My heart is pounding.
This is like creepy artwork, ‘Rattlesnake on a Summer Dress.’
My hands are still on the wheel in the 10 and 2 position. That has nothing to do with anything, but my mind has gone blank. I’m trying to stop tunnel-vision panic from setting in.
I wonder if I can I open the door and try to slide outside – without angering the serpent. I’ll make a plan to open the door, then I’ll somehow swivel my butt out. As I keep looking at the thing in my lap, I realize I’m completely glued to the seat. I don’t have any leverage to move. When I even think of moving a muscle, my body refuses.
Minutes pass. I have to do something. I’ll practice moving one muscle.
When I slightly move my right thigh, just a tiny muscle contraction… its tail makes a little rattle noise. Is that a warning? I immediately stop trying to move, it would be too dangerous. My muscles are tight with adrenaline and are beginning to shake on their own.
Okay, I’ll move my left hand from the wheel and reach down to open the door. All I have to do is let my arm move down to the armrest, then I’ll touch the handle. I’m telling myself to do it. Commanding myself. Go slowly, don’t stress the snake. I get my hand wrapped around the handle, then I pop open the door a crack. I slowly push it most of the way open so he can see his big escape route. Cold air pours into the cab for a few minutes. He starts moving. Good, he’s getting off me!
But no. The snake hates the cold, he’s looking for warmth.
He’s readjusting by going underneath my dress. His heavy slithery body is partially on my lap, and partially against the side of my right thigh, under my dress. I’m squeezing my legs shut.
Shit, shit, shit! My mind is empty of thought, I’ve run out of ideas. I’m getting cold and my teeth are beginning to chatter. The snake is also cold and refusing to leave… so much for that terrible idea.
Little by little I’m trying to calm down. It hasn’t bitten me yet. It must be about 5 minutes since I opened the door. I’m shivering with cold and adrenaline, and I’m sweating too.
I know I have to close the door. I shouldn’t have opened it.
I’ve seen nature shows where a rattlesnake bites a mouse. The poor little mouse dies, and the venom starts digesting him. I don’t want my cells to break down, my skin to die, and my heart to stop. I’m seeing visions of people with a snake-bitten arm; the cells have died and the skin turns black, swollen, and peels off. I can’t let that happen to me, my life is good right now!
Headlights in the distance!
They’re coming closer. Keep coming, keep coming! And they do, driven by an old man in a dusty pickup truck.
“Are you okay dear?” he pulls up to the driver’s side and peers through his window at my open door.
“No, there’s a rattlesnake in my lap. Will you call the fire department, call everyone,” I accidentally move my arm. I’ve just made the snake unhappy. He’s moving, his tail swings free and gives a little shake. I can feel my body cringe, expecting fangs to sink into my skin at any second.
“A snake…? I don’t see a snake,” he speaks in a befuddled way. He gets out of his truck looking at my face, knowing something is wrong. I’m a female in a dress, sweat running down her face on a cold night, stopped sideways over the center meridian. Yeah, something is very wrong.
“Just call the fire department, please!” When he doesn’t immediately respond, I get more commanding, “Jeez, call the fire department… and will you carefully close my door…,” then I soften it. “Please.”
Finally, he figures out he needs to make the call. He goes to sit in his truck looking up the road and then back at me. I suppose he’s ready to flee if this is a set-up.
It takes a while for everyone to arrive, and more keep coming. Every available firefighter, police officer and highway patrol car is speeding up to help, to gawk, or to direct nonexistent traffic. Now I have the truck door closed, the window down, and the heat venting hot air on my legs. I’m still cold, but least I’m no longer alone.
A big fireman, dressed to fight a fire in his helmet and heavy yellow coat, approaches my window. He has a quizzical look. “Are you okay? Where is the snake?”
By using only my left finger to point, I direct his attention to my lap and right side of my thigh. “Under my dress… see the lump?” I whisper
He looks for a few moments, scowls in thought and says, “I see the lump, are you sure it’s a rattlesnake?”
“Positive.”
He runs his hand across his mouth and ponders the situation. “Well… we need to get you out of the truck,” he takes a deep breath. “I’ll request a snake expert,
be right back,” he slowly backs up, then turns toward the others walking with purpose toward us. He holds up his hands to stop them. Everyone looks at me while they speak among themselves. My eyes glaze over as they discuss, and look, and speak on their radios, and do who knows what else.
“Jess, are you all right?” Jack’s voice cuts through my haze.
“Jack!”
He looks in the window, “There’s a snake in your truck?”
“Yeah, it’s under my dress,” I point to my lap and cringe. “Look, it’s moving!”
The others have quietly crowded around the truck and are looking in. At least they see the movement, so they don’t think I’m making it up.
Jack reaches out and touches my arm. Realizing it is cold, he wraps his warm hands around it, “You’re freezing.”
“I was sitting with the door open. I thought the snake would leave, but it got cold and went under my dress.”
“You’re sure it’s a rattler?” he looks down at my lap again, but the snake is still under cover.
“Beyond a doubt.”
“I wonder if we can add more heat, you know, to make it so cozy he leaves. Has anyone suggested that?” he asks.
“That’s a good idea. I tried making it cold, but that was a terrible idea. I’d like a good idea for once.”
Gazing at the floor while his mind is thinking, a look of shock comes over his face. “Don’t move!” he commands.
“I’m not, I haven’t moved since I opened the door,” I carefully reply.
“Don’t move, there’s one under the other seat,” he whispers in horror.
I’m in a den of rattlesnakes!
He reaches down to the armrest to click the passenger door unlocked, then runs around to the passenger side and slowly cracks open the door. This generates activity from the crowd of uniforms.
“What’s going on?” one of them strides over.
“There’s another under the seat!” he barks, as he ever so slowly inches the door open.