Chapter 3
"All right, Meg, come on girl," crooned the dark-haired young woman as she led a tall chestnut mare into a trailer. The mare followed willingly and settled down for the trip.
"Ann, are you sure you want to take Meg to Vermont? We could lease a horse up there for you." Katharine Hight helped load her daughter's tack into the front of the trailer.
"No, Mom." Ann poked her head out of the small window at the front of the trailer. "Thanks, but I'd really rather have Meg with me. I found a place to board her that has an indoor ring, so I can ride all winter. They'll take care of feeding her and turning her out, so if I get busy with classes, it won't matter if I can't get there for a few days." She jumped down from the back of the trailer, stowed the ramp and closed the door. "But I appreciate the offer," she added as she kissed her mother on the cheek and flashed her beautiful smile.
Katharine was always struck by how much Ann resembled her husband, Owen. They had the same thick, black hair and startlingly blue eyes. Ann's features were chiseled though, as if Michelangelo had sculpted her face, with a high forehead, perfect nose, lips neither too thin nor too full, but ready to break into a smile that could always make its recipient feel special. Katharine looked nothing like the rest of the family. Her red hair had turned silver white by the time she was forty, and she had opted to leave it that color.
"All right, then," Katharine said, "If everything else is packed, let's go say goodbye to your father."
Arm in arm, they walked back to the beautiful old farmhouse they all preferred to their apartments in Boston or L.A. Owen needed places close to major coastal airports for business, but he cherished the time he got to spend at home here on the farm an hour and a half outside Boston. They found him in his study.
"You all set, little girl?" He looked up from his desk. "I thought I'd be doing this five or six years ago. I can't believe I'm sending you off again, but at least this time," he said as he stood to hug her, "you're not going to a scary, unsettled part of the world."
"Dad, the Peace Corps was a great experience," she insisted as she hugged him back. "But I'm definitely ready for college now. It would have been a waste of money when I was eighteen."
"I know, I know," he sighed, letting her go reluctantly. "But to tell you the truth, I'm almost as nervous about letting you go to college as I was about sending you off to Africa."
"Dad, please," Ann said, rolling her eyes. "I'm years older than those kids. I'm there to work, not party. I got that out of my system in Europe," she added with a coy look.
"Stop!" Katharine held up her hands. "I don't want to know any more. There are definitely things parents do not need to know." She laughed. "At least that's what I always told my mother."
"I'll remember you said that," Ann grinned.
They all walked out to where the Land Cruiser was waiting with the horse trailer hitched to it. Ann hugged her parents one more time, promising to call when she got to her apartment, and pulled out of the driveway. Looking back in the rearview mirror, Ann saw Owen slip his arm around his wife and pull her close as they walked back inside.
Ann drove carefully to avoid jarring Meg. Her route took her along a series of large interstates and smaller highways, which offered a more intimate view of the small farms with their neatly painted barns, and fields dotted with cattle. As she drove through Vermont, the terrain became more mountainous. When she arrived at the farm where the mare was to be boarded, Ann found Barbara, the owner. They unloaded Meg and placed her in her stall with some grain. Then she unloaded her tack trunk and saddle, putting them in the tack room. She parked the trailer off to one side of the barn with some others and drove on to her apartment.
She had found an enormous old mansion, which had been remodeled into five separate apartments. She wanted to live alone, though it meant not being able to share expenses. She knew she couldn't tolerate being in a dormitory. This apartment suited her needs perfectly. The tall windows brought in plenty of light, with a rosy glow from the oak floors bouncing off the cream-colored walls. There were two bedrooms, but she had only brought one set of sheets, so the other bedroom served as the receptacle for empty boxes and suitcases as she unpacked. After she brought the last box up from the Toyota, she placed a quick call to her parents and then went to the campus bookstore to get her textbooks.
It was Friday and she knew the bookstore would be open tomorrow, but she was eager to look through the first few chapters before classes started. She hadn't expected the books to be as numerous or as heavy as they turned out to be. She left the bookstore with two heavy bags and regretted not having driven to the bookstore. Taking what she hoped was a short cut back to her apartment; she cut through the park with the old church. There were several people in the park, including a group of guys throwing a football. Suddenly, she heard, "Watch out!" But it was too late. A muscular young man trying to catch a high football pass ran right into her, knocking her flat and sending her books flying.
Emily was up in the bell tower and saw everything. She watched the young man's mouth moving rapidly as he helped the dark-haired woman to her feet. Though she couldn't hear from where she was, Emily was sure he was apologizing profusely. He didn't take his eyes off the woman's face, and even from this distance, Emily understood why. She was beautiful. To Emily's amazement, the dark-haired woman was smiling, not angry. In a couple of minutes a whole crowd of guys had gathered round, picking up her books, asking if she was okay. Emily smiled and shook her head as the woman left the park like a Pied Piper with a herd of men following her.
Ann got back to her apartment and thanked the guys who had carried her books for her, as they deposited them on her kitchen table. They all filed out except Peter, the one who had run into her.
"Ann," he said awkwardly, "this is not how I usually go about meeting someone, but," he looked down and cleared his throat, "would you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?"
She quickly considered. Peter seemed like a nice enough guy. She guessed him to be about twenty-one. She hoped he was at least old enough to order wine. "Sure, I'd like that," she smiled. His face took on the trancelike quality she had learned to recognize when she spoke with men. She didn't take her power over them for granted; she just wished she could meet someone who wasn't affected by it. She never felt sure the men she dated wanted to get to know her. They all seemed to get stuck on showing her off like a new car.
"Great! I'll pick you up at seven," Peter said as he stumbled on the threshold of her door. She laughed as she pictured her father's reaction to the fact that within four hours of getting to town she had a date.
Chapter 4
Emily rose early on Saturday and got dressed for a run. The heat had broken, and the temperature outside was a more seasonable fifty-five degrees. She put on an extra long-sleeved t-shirt and pulled the sleeves down over her hands. Instead of going towards town as she had been all week, she decided to follow the road in the opposite direction. It had been a productive week. The other teaching assistants had arrived throughout the week, and she was surprised to find herself the only American among them. She had been able to get nearly her entire semester's lesson plans completed, despite being called upon to help the others with their work.
She had gone a couple of miles and was just feeling warmed up. The sun was shining and the air was crystal clear. As she rounded a bend in the road, she saw a farm with several horses in a field. Just beyond the field, near the road, was a riding ring with jumps of various heights and shapes. In the ring was a tall reddish horse with a rider tugging at a strap on the saddle. The pair set off at a trot, and Emily stopped to watch. They went around the ring a few times, sometimes changing direction. Then they took a couple of low fences. The rider moved very little as the horse's feet tucked neatly then landed lightly on the other side. They did a series of low fences, and then circled around to a series of three higher fences that Emily guessed to be about four feet high. The rider then pulled the horse over to the gate of the ring and e
xited. She slid down off the horse and rubbed the back of her neck. As she took off her helmet and stretched stiffly, Emily recognized the woman from the park.
"Are you sore from riding or from football?"
Ann turned, startled. She hadn't realized anyone was there. "I'm sorry?"
"I saw you get tackled yesterday," Emily explained.
"Oh, that," Ann smiled. Emily blinked and swallowed. She was gorgeous. "I think it's the football, but this isn't helping today."
"I can understand why. You really got hit." Emily carefully avoided saying where she'd been watching from.
"Well, I think we've had enough for today. Ready to go in, Meg?" Ann took the mare's reins. "Have a good run," she said to Emily as she turned towards the barn.
"Thanks." Emily continued down the road, feeling foolish for her reaction to the woman's smile. She was as bad as the guys. Nonetheless, she was sorry she hadn't gotten her name.
When she returned to the house, she jumped in the shower, then dressed in old clothes and went down for breakfast. Mrs. Gundlach had a large bowl of oatmeal on the table for her. Emily helped herself, topping it off with milk and brown sugar. Mrs. Gundlach sat down and joined her, and Mr. Gundlach came in shortly. Emily had talked them into letting her help paint the barn. It was a beautiful old barn with a stone foundation and huge oak beams. The beams still showed the marks of the hand tools used to hew them. The exterior was to receive a new coat of white paint.
After breakfast, they climbed ladders with buckets and brushes and set to work. They painted steadily, with one short break for lunch, and by four o'clock one whole side of the barn was done. Emily hadn't realized it would be such a big job. Her shoulders and neck ached from the constant motion of the brush.
She climbed the stairs and fell asleep for an hour. When she woke, she realized she had been dreaming of watching the dark-haired woman riding her horse. 'You are pathetic,' she told herself. She showered, washed her hair and got dressed in khaki pants and polo shirt for dinner. She and the other foreign language teaching assistants had made plans to get together for dinner and get to know one another. She wasn't very enthusiastic about the evening, but felt she had to go to be polite.
She arrived at the restaurant on time and found three of the others already seated. Luckily, they had picked a restaurant that was fairly quiet. Enrique was from Argentina, Sofia was from the Dominican Republic and Heinrich was from Germany. Soon they were joined by Sato from Japan and Lise, who was from Normandy in France.
The conversation was happily disjointed, as they made attempts to speak in each other's languages. Emily was surprised at the difference in Enrique's and Sofia's accents when they spoke Spanish. When Lise spoke English, it was with a mixed British and French accent. Sato was very shy, and was gently encouraged by the others to join in the conversation. At one point, not understanding a question Heinrich tried to pose in Japanese, Sato put her hands on her cheeks and exclaimed, "I'm so confusing!"
The table got silent for a moment, as no one wanted to hurt Sato's feelings, but Sofia couldn't control her laughter and soon the others were chuckling also. Sato realized what she had said, and joined the laughter good-naturedly. As the conversation continued past dinner into dessert and coffee, Emily discovered that she was enjoying herself. It had been a long time since she had socialized with anyone. She reached her left hand around to massage her right shoulder, feeling knots on top of knots.
"Now, you can't be sore from football," a voice said from behind her. She turned to find herself looking up into the face of the dark-haired woman. In a glance, Emily was aware of the shining black hair down to her shoulders, her electric blue eyes, the small black, sleeveless dress, which hung simply and gracefully on her lean body.
"No," she smiled. "I was painting a barn today." She didn't offer to explain further. She stood and extended her hand. "I'm Emily Warner."
"Hello, Emily. I'm Ann Hight," she responded, taking Emily's hand in a warm, firm grasp. "This is Peter Larson," she said, introducing the young man with her. Emily recognized him as the one who had knocked Ann down in the park. 'Good work,' she thought.
Emily introduced the others at her table. The men were very gracious. Lise and Sofia were rather cool. After Ann and Peter had taken their leave, the conversation gradually resumed, but Emily was only half listening. Ann Hight. The name was as simple and elegant as the black dress she had been wearing. Emily suddenly realized what she was wearing and wished she had dressed up a little more. A voice inside cut through her internal dialogue, 'It doesn't make a damn bit of difference what you're wearing. She doesn't care!' Emily forced herself to focus on the conversation.
Sleep didn't come easily that night, and when it did, the dreams were more disturbing and vivid than usual.
Chapter 5
Monday morning dawned clear and bright. It was going to be a gorgeous day, just warm enough to remind everyone that summer wasn't officially over and would not willingly give way to autumn.
Ann had been up before dawn to get out to Meg for an early morning ride. They had gone cross- country, jumping downed trees and ditches. Ann wasn't too sure of the terrain yet, so she pulled Meg back from the woods. It wouldn't do to get lost today. "Sorry, professor, but my horse and I got lost in the woods," she laughed aloud. Meg's ears swept back at the sound of her voice.
She let her thoughts wander as she rode. She was glad she had tested out of some basic freshman classes. Her schedule would feel a little more challenging with courses she really wanted. The date with Peter had been nice, but he was a frat boy and a jock, so naturally the conversation had turned to his athletic exploits. She had ended the evening with a small kiss, much to his disappointment. She smiled at the coincidence of bumping into Emily again. Soon it was time to head back. By the time she got Meg untacked and groomed, she barely had enough time for her own shower and breakfast before her first class, which was economics. That hour and a quarter dragged on. Her next class was biology, which she found more interesting. After that she had a break before her afternoon classes. She got a sandwich from the student union and sat outside to eat while she read her first assignment.
Emily, meanwhile, walked out of her morning German class in shock. It was a third semester course, so she expected some level of retention from the prior two semesters they all should have had, but only two or three students had acted like they even understood "Wie geht es Ihnen?" How are you? She made a mental note to revise her lesson plans to include more review.
She went upstairs to her office and opened the lunch Mrs. Gundlach had prepared for her. 'Bless her,' she thought with a smile as she pulled out containers of chicken and dumplings, peas and apple crisp. She popped the containers in the microwave, and sat down to look at her class list for French this afternoon. The microwave beeped at her, and she opened her lecture notes to review while she ate. By quarter to one, she was ready to head to her classroom. She loved the tall windows that actually opened to let errant breezes wander through. She began writing the first reading assignments on the board as the students filed in. She kept herself occupied until it seemed everyone was in their seats. Finally she turned to face the class.
"Bon jour, classe. Je m'appelle Emily Warner." Her eyes swept the room as she spoke. She went through the class list, focusing for a moment on each face so she could begin learning their names. This was also a third semester class, and to her immense relief, this class was vocal and eager to participate. By the time class was over, they had done a good review of basic greetings and phrases, and had made a game out of seeing who could conjugate verbs the fastest.
As Emily was gathering her books, Ann peeked in from the doorway. "Hi," she said with a shy smile.
"Hello," Emily answered in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"My French class meets here next." She consulted her class list. "Lise D'Andreau is my instructor."
"Lise?" Emily smiled. "You'd better be on your toes. I have a feeling she will expect a lot from her student
s. Isn't that a fifth semester class? Where did you take your earlier French, here at this university?"
"No, this is my first semester of college," Ann replied. "I studied in high school and then was abroad for awhile."
"Really?" Emily asked, eyebrows raised. "I'd like to hear more about your time in Europe someday."
Ann smiled. "Maybe we could get together for a drink?"
To Emily's chagrin, she felt herself blush. "That would be nice."
"Au revoir," Ann replied as Emily gathered her books and turned toward the door.
Emily nodded and walked out. "You are such an idiot!" she muttered to herself as she started up the stairs to her office.
Chapter 6
The rest of the week flew by. Emily's German class was doing better as she adjusted her expectations for their first few days. The French class continued to delight her with their willingness to participate, even though mistakes were inevitable. Her own class work promised to be a challenge. By the end of the first week, she was the only non-Spanish speaking native remaining in her Spanish novel class, and her French and German literature classes were going to involve a lot of research. Finally, the weekend arrived. It was Labor Day weekend with no classes on Monday, and it seemed about half the student body had made plans to go away.
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