“Hi, Jenny, it's Jason. Am I calling at a bad time?”
Her heart leaped. “No, no, Jason. It's a good time. I mean, no, it's fine. How are you?”
“I'm okay, but you sound out of breath. Are you okay?”
“Oh, I'm good. Just soaking in the tub and rushed to get the phone. Did you call earlier? A few minutes ago?” She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her robe more snugly to her.
“No, it wasn't I. Another admirer, my guess.”
“You would guess wrong, sir. I'm just fresh out of admirers. I was hoping you would call.”
“I meant to call sooner. A few things came up which needed to be worked out. I'm glad you were hoping for my call.”
“I'm glad that you're glad. Don't know if I should even tell you this, but when the phone rang earlier, while I was in my bath, and I didn't get to it in time, I was going to call you. But I had no number to call, and you are unlisted.”
“Well, we can surely rectify that immediately. Would you like my unlisted number?” He asked in a toying manner.
“Only if you want me to have it. It strikes me all of a sudden that I can be rather presumptuous.”
“Jenny, get a pen and paper.”
Jason gave Jenny his unlisted home number, his address, and his office number, then added for fun: “You may not be impressed but very few people have my home phone number. Grandma Myrena has it. Carlton has it, and there are times when I wish he didn't have it. My secretary has the number. Very few people have it.”
“Then I'm truly honored.”
“I'm honored that you're honored.”
They both laughed.
Jason continued, “I'm calling to see if you could possibly get the afternoon off tomorrow. I'd like to take you along to see 'Apple Brown Betty.' What do you think? Too short a notice?”
“No, it's not too short. My two meetings are in the morning so it should be okay. No, I know it's okay. It's very seldom I take an afternoon off and I never take sick days. I'm too good to the Stratford Agency. It's time for me to play hooky. What time are you thinking?”
“I can pick you up in front of your office building around noon. We can have lunch on the way out to Casa Grande. I know a great Chinese food place. You like Chinese fare?”
“Love it.”
“Then we're on for tomorrow. We'll have fun.”
“I know we will. That's because I find your company so enjoyable, Mr. Prince.” She veritably cooed into the phone.
“You're much too flattering and kind, Ms. Mason. But, listen, I do apologize for not calling you sooner. It was just that some things were … well, I'll tell you about it someday. You off to early bedtime?”
“Yes, but I doubt that I'll sleep very much.”
“And why is that?”
“Too excited about tomorrow, the afternoon part of tomorrow.”
“I'm excited about it, too, but you sleep. I don't want you sleepwalking as I'm showing you “Apple Brown Betty.'”
“I will sleep. Promise. See you tomorrow at noon in front of my building. I'll be waiting. And, thank you, Jason.”
“No, I thank you, pretty lady.”
Jenny sat for a long time after the call from Jason, looking out her bedroom window into the night sky. The moon had made its way around and its bottom arc was visible now just below the upper edge of the window pane. It was no longer 'lonely as Sunday.'
It was something else. She scanned her brain for an apt phrase that might sum up the warmth and wonder of her joy. Immediately, as though sped on the silent wind through the starry night to her waiting lips, it came. The phrase came. It was a phrase uttered by an obscure little silk-winding girl named Pippa in Robert Browning's poem called Pippa Passes: “God's in his heaven. All's right with the world.” Why that particular poem had come to Jenny, she could not say. She had studied England's most noteworthy Victorian poet in a favored college course and remembered the oft quoted line.
Yes, that seemed to say it very well.
As sleep began to come in heavier folds upon her warm thoughts of Jason, Jenny pulled a pillow next to her body and embraced it with a long sigh.
Chapter Nine
A haze lay upon the distant mountaintops like a surreal shroud. The light and shadows dipped and caressed the boulders and wide canyons.
There was something majestic and primordial in the view. It occurred to Jenny Mason that it was insufficient to classify such an awesome vista as simply, 'pretty.' It was more poetically deserving than her mundane words. Such beauty surely deserved more than just mere ephemeral acknowledgment. It deserved a giant hug, a kiss, something given back to it for its being there in its exquisite and strangely haunting beauty. Jenny loved these pristine desert mountains and their ageless wonders tugged at her in wistful ways.
Jason inserted a CD and the music seemed to mix with the beauty of the landscape outside the car to produce a biding state of euphoria.
Jenny sighed, rolled her head away from the seat's backrest to look at Jason. “What is that lovely music? I've never heard it before.”
“It's called, Dusk. It's my number two favorite riding companion,” Jason said with a smile.
“It is beautifully haunting. Oh, and what occupies number one your favorite riding companion list?”
“Not, 'what.' It's 'who' and the 'who' is you.”
“Really!” She lightly touched his shoulder, returned his smile. “To think! I beat out 'Dusk.' That's very nice.”
“Well, don't get too carried away,” he teased, “the voting was very close. Besides, the Chinese food has sated you and made you easily pliable.”
“Uh-huh. I suppose that has something to do with it.”
They sat in easy silence for a moment as the music played. Jason kept his speed just below sixty miles per hour. They were in no hurry. There was comfort and warmth in their shared space.
Then, Jenny spoke again, to finish a thought that was left in abeyance. “The great food, the ride, the marvelous views, 'Dusk,' and, to large measure, you, sir, all have me spellbound.” She gave Jason a cute school girl eye flutter.
“Seriously, though,” she continued her monologue, “a moment ago, looking at those mountains, I had an odd and wonderful feeling. It's kind of hard to explain, really, but it was a sense that something from a long ago time was trying to get through to me, like, some ancient wanderlust. The mountaintops out there in their shimmering haze brought some sort of, umm, a sort of ancestral impulse, like, the scene was speaking to me from the past, trying to give up some of its secrets. Pretty dumb, huh?”
“No more Chinese food, lady.”
They laughed.
Jenny went on, “Oh, I know it must sound loony and weird. It was just a good feeling that swept over me and, darn it, I wish I could describe it better. Listen, do you have any idea what I'm trying to say here? If you do, for goodness sake, help me out. Help me stop fumbling about.”
“You know I believe that I do.” Jason said. “It's maybe a soulful response, a sort of déjᾀ vu, a subtle linking with the eons. Beauty can at times, I believe, make such a flash upon the soul to almost render the mind numb to explain it. But, then, of course, you're a very open and caring person. You're more vulnerable, more susceptible, than most.”
Jenny's face showed a dubious and playful frown. “How do you know that I'm more vulnerable and more susceptible than most? Are you a part time psychiatrist?”
Jason chuckled. “Jenny, you must remember, I went through a lightning strike with you – I was so close, some of it might have passed through me, giving me these amazing powers of observation. But, really, you had an 'out of body' experience that was very real for you. You are not wary about showing your emotions. You are a person who has a higher degree of susceptibility than most, and that's good, not bad. That's just my perception of you. Seriously, does it bother you that I'm sharing these observations?”
“No, it doesn't bother me at all. I'm in no way offended.” She snickered. “Guess it makes me
feel a tad silly, though.”
“You're not silly at all. You're honest and true to your feelings, and you don't mind sharing them. You're strong and confident in your words and actions. That's enviable. You have a soul, Jenny Anne. Some people don't know how to find their souls, too busy seeing life in black and white terms, too incapable of coming to terms with thoughts that seem alien to them. Some people are too busy acting out their little deceptions, too busy contriving instead of striving. You are, in short, a remarkable woman. There, I've had my say. Hope it didn't sound too arrogant, didactic, and/or pedantic.”
Jenny looked at the strong, pleasantly assured profile of the man with whom she was falling in love. With little effort she could cry tears of joy, but she would not. So many emotions stirred within her. Finally, she could only mutter a weak retort: “Takes one to know one.”
They looked at each other for some seconds. Jason put his right hand over her left upturned palm, squeezed gently, and smiled a warm and silent response. He then returned to the business of driving.
They were quiet for a protracted period of time, each lost in the motor hum, the tires whine, and the vast desert all around them. Their silence was not an uncomfortable thing.
Jenny spoke first. “Have we been doing some metaphysical, philosophical meandering here? It seems to me we got pretty deep.” She snickered.
“Suppose we did, in some very general way. Why do you ask?”
“Hmm, I don't know. Guess I just have a lot of questions crowding my mind.”
“Questions? Like, what?”
“Well, like, what gives you pleasure in life, Jason? What is it you want from life?”
“Oh, I suppose the first question is the easiest to answer, sort of. What gives me pleasure in life? Well, I'm a lucky guy because my work gives me a lot of pleasure. Maybe you'll get a hint of that today. Many people can't say they get pleasure from their work. Lots of studies show that there are people stuck in jobs they hate, just marking time day in, day out. Had a man tell me once that he worked in a sub-assembly division of a major aircraft plant, stamping numbers on wires, clustering those wires, small and large, and soldering them into receptacles of one size or another. The whole process was so boring he lived for the fifteen-minute coffee breaks and the thirty-minute lunch breaks, dying little by little in between. The stamping process and the soldering joints needed to conform ever so precisely to specifications, and many times they did not conform. The man said the quality control people often times approved the receptacles without carefully, thoroughly checking the soldering joints.
“Now, that scared me when he told me about the shoddy inspections. Those receptacles go into passenger jets that people use for cross-country travel. If we have people working on critical parts of an airplane with such boredom and nonchalance, you have to wonder if that behavior ultimately results in major crashes.
“But just imagine the thousands, tens of thousands, of people who have jobs they hate, bored out of their minds. For one reason or another, they are stuck in those jobs. The pay is good. It's the only job they know. They have no ambition or aptitude for anything else. So many people never find out in life what it is they really want to do. Imagine, mired for years, a lifetime, in an endless string of hours hating what you're doing.
“Me? I'm a lucky man, a fortunate man. Sure, I was born into privilege, never really wanted for much. When my parents were killed by a truck driver asleep at the wheel, I felt lost for a while, cheated, depressed, lots of anxiety, whatever. But Grandma Myrena and Grandpa John took up the slack and were always there for me. They pointed me toward my work of choice with careful guidance and positive stroking.”
Jason became conscious that he was really talking too long and he glanced over at Jenny. She seemed rapt by his words, so he continued.
“So I'm doing what I love to do, creating, developing, something that will live beyond my lifetime. We're driving to the most important work project with which I'll ever be involved. 'Apple Brown Betty.' Crazy name, huh? 'Apple Brown Betty' was a dream that began when I was a kid, really, sitting in that wonderful old parlor with Grandma Myrena and Grandpa John. They began talking about 'Apple Brown Betty' all those years ago. Of course, they didn't call it 'Apple Brown Betty' then, but that's when the idea was born, sitting there in front of that beautiful stone fireplace.
“They had spent some time in Mexico. They loved the small villages there, the lazy, peaceful, way of life. They loved the smell of refried beans, the music of the Mariachis, the people with deep furrowed faces and forgotten dreams. The world of Mexico fascinated my grandparents and I suspect they felt some sort of national guilt for having taken some of their land --- and maybe those 'forgotten dreams.' Anyway, that's where the idea was born and incubated.
“Grandma and Grandpa experienced some of what you experienced, looking out toward those mountains. Something stirred within them, maybe that ancestral thing you mentioned, and they wanted to recreate a village reminiscent of their composite Mexican town right here in Arizona. There were, and are, lots of Mexican-Americans here in Arizona, living in some semblance of a Mexican community, but it wasn't the same thing for my grandparents. They wanted to build the Mexican village that was in their minds and in their hearts.
“The problem, the dream came too late for Grandpa John.” Jason paused, lost for some seconds in thought. Then, he glanced at Jenny. “You want more?”
“Oh, yes, please,” she quickly answered.
“Well, Grandma Myrena built that dream in me. She tried to include Carlton in the dream, but he was too busy being a brat. Anyway, Carlton and I were taken on some of those trips to Mexico. After Grandpa John died, Grandma Myrena took us on those Mexican holidays. I fell in love with the dusty roads, the smells, the mariachis, the hard brown faces of the people, the aura of the small Mexican village, just like my grandparents fell in love with the country.
“All through college and all through my early development projects, that dream stayed with me and it stayed with Grandma Myrena. Finally, I decided it was time to create the reality from the dream.
“Originally, I wanted to acquire some land around Bartlett Dam, government owned land. It was an area where we had camped a lot as kids, and Carlton and I romped, played, and were closer than we had ever been as brothers, likely closer than we will ever be again.”
Jason hesitated, and Jenny could see a wistful sadness settle on his face. He took a deep breath and continued.
“Anyway, that was the place, in that general area, where I wanted to ultimately build 'Apple Brown Betty.' Unfortunately, we could never get the government to do some land swapping.
“So, we had a considerable land holding down here in the Casa Grande area. It was in the family for many years. I decided, with Grandma Myrena's blessing, that 'Apple Brown Betty' would come to life on this land. It just needed some imagination and some resources turned its way.
“Today, you see firsthand what gives me pleasure. At least, you will see the beginning, meager efforts expended thus far. You will have to wait about five to ten years to see the entire dream come into full focus. But you have the imagination and vision to see it today, just about as it will be ten years from now.
“That is what gives me pleasure, Jenny. What I want from life naturally follows. I want to see the dream of 'Apple Brown Betty' become reality. I want to know that I did it. It is, no doubt, an ego thing, but I'd like to think that it's a lot more than that, like maybe a monument to Grandma Myrena and Grandpa John, something with my signature on it, something that I can leave for posterity. It better be a lot of things! It's going to take just about all that I own before it's finished.”
Jason was coming to his exit off Interstate 10 as he turned on his directional light and glanced again at Jenny. “You will see soon, Jenny Anne.”
She giggled, like a schoolgirl. “I really never liked anyone calling me Jenny Anne – sounded so 'hill-billyish.' But I like you saying it. Oh, I'm so excited, Jason. Thank you for sh
aring your beautiful dream with me, for all the beautiful words you've spoken.” She gently touched his shoulder and allowed her hand to linger there.
“You're welcome. It has not been shared with many people.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, touched it with a feathery kiss.
“Oh, by the way,” he added, with a schoolboy grin, “you give me a great deal of pleasure as well, Jenny Anne. After we see 'Apple Brown Betty' maybe you can do some talking, like, what gives you pleasure and what you want out of life. Seems only fair.”
Jason exited the freeway, made a few turns, and headed toward a distant mountain. A huge dust devil seemed to be leading their way a hundred yards ahead and to their right.
Chapter Ten
Danzetti smiled a crooked smile as he accepted the cash from Carlton Prince. Meticulously and slowly he counted the bills and checked the denominations.
“It's all there, Danzetti, dammit! Please take it and go. It is not comfortable meeting you here.”
Danzetti paused briefly to cock his eyebrow toward Carlton and smile a menacing smile. Finally, he completed his counting.
They stood in the carpeted area just outside the men's room of the Beefeater's Restaurant. They were much too exposed for Carlton Prince. He wanted the short, squat, darkly sinister man to be out of his sight. Danzetti looked for all the world like the stereotypical thug Carlton remembered from movies and books. Carlton could not leave because Danzetti was blocking his way. Carlton was cornered between the cigarette machine and the joining juncture of walls.
Enjoying the drama, the slow and methodical motion of his action, Danzetti pocketed the money. Someone was just emerging from the men's room. Without any words and with crab-like movement, Danzetti turned to his left and allowed Carlton his access for exiting. A sneer was pasted on his ugly acne scarred face.
Carlton went straight to the bar and ordered a Manhattan on the rocks. He would not leave the restaurant until he was sure that Danzetti had gone. He sighed into his highball glass. Finally, it was over. He would not get himself into this mess again. There would be no more dealings with Lupo and the likes of Danzetti. He saw from the large back bar mirror the image of Danzetti moving toward the front door of the restaurant.
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