by Flora Lanoux
“I would like to take you on an outing tomorrow,” he says.
“I’d love to go, but I’ve made plans to visit with a friend for the morning.”
“We could leave in the afternoon. Would two o’clock suit you?”
“Sure.”
Brushing his lips against my cheek, he says, “Until tomorrow.”
As I walk into my room, one cliché after another passes through my mind: love at first sight, one-night stands, fate, make sure you get to know a man -- the latter from my unmarried aunt, Ann, her life hanging on clichés like clothes on a line. Then I hear my mother’s voice. Sitting by my bedside on a warm summer night when I was ten, not a whiff of alcohol on her breath, she said, “You’ll know for sure when you find the right man, Rachel. If you have to ask yourself if he’s the right one, he’s not.”
Chapter 20
When I wake up Saturday morning, I phone Michelle to tell her that I’m staying in Texas a little longer. She offers to call Verna, Myra, and Mike.
As I’m waiting outside the hotel, Lou Ann shows up at the hotel in a beat-up Ford pickup. When she steps out of the truck, I notice that she’s forgotten to tell me that she’s very pregnant; a totally normal Lou Ann oversight. She sees every event in life as incidental, nothing to make a fuss over. Once, when she was asked to do a routine physical on a cow in front of our classmates, the cow kicked her hard and knocked her flat on her back. Looking up at the ceiling, all she said was, “Did you ever have the feeling that it was just going to be one of those days?”
During our first year in vet school, Michelle set Lou Ann up on a blind date and described her to the guy as “robustly kind and a hell of a lot of fun.” The blind date was Joe, Lou Ann’s husband.
“Howdy, Rachel,” she says, squeezing me. “You look great.”
I laugh. “You look big.”
“This old thing?” she says, patting her belly. “Joe and I had a bit too much time on our hands about six months ago. Come on, sweetheart, let’s take off.” When we’re on the road, she says, “Joe sends his apologies, honey. He had to take a whack of farm calls this morning. I thought we’d hang out at the clinic so he can catch a glimpse of you when he flies through the office. He knows you’re leaving early tomorrow.”
“Actually, I’ve decided to stay longer.”
“Oh,” she says, glancing at me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I left my job back home and I like Texas.”
“Good grief, Rachel, are you looking for a job?”
I laugh. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe it. Joe and I have been looking for someone for a few weeks now, but haven’t found anyone. We do about fifty percent farm work, which I know you’re not used to, but do you think you’d be interested?”
I’m surprised to hear myself say, “Yeah, I would.”
She lets out a loud whoop. “Oh my goodness, Rachel! There’s no reason it couldn’t be arranged. Joe will go nuts.”
In seconds, she comes up with some tentative plans: I could stay with them since their house has a separate apartment attached, I could start work whenever I wanted, and we could give it a trial run of a month to see how it goes.
As we both mull things over, everything takes on a new significance. Driving along, Lou Ann points out some of the farms they do work for and gives me the low-down on some of the owners.
It takes forty minutes to reach Joe and Lou Ann’s clinic. As we pull into the driveway, I see Joe stocking up a truck for his visits. He’s a lanky six foot-four inches tall and still has a mess of hair that partly hides his eyes.
“Rachel!” he calls out, walking over to give me a hug. “City mouse visits country mouse, huh?”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call Haslett a city.”
“It’s all relative, honey.”
“Hey Joe,” Lou Ann says, “what would you think if Rachel came to work for us?”
He studies his wife’s face to see if she is joking; then he turns to me. “Really, Rachel?”
“It’d be a lot of fun,” I tell him.
He gives a lazy smile. “Could we ever use someone like you around here.”
Lou Ann suggests that I accompany Joe on the morning’s farm visits, and I readily agree. Knowing that Joe’s in a hurry, she quickly fetches a pair of coveralls and work boots from the clinic.
When we’re on the road, Joe says, “So, how’s that sidekick of yours?” He’s referring to Michelle. “Still breaking hearts?”
“I think she’s working on fixing her own.” I fill him in on some of the details.
“I really like that girl. I hope she finds what she’s looking for.” After a few quiet moments, he says, “So Rach, do you want to get your hands dirty today, or do you just want to observe?”
“I think I can handle some action.”
Our first three visits involve horses. We tend to swollen lower leg joints, lung problems, and some vaccinations. The next stop involves a pregnancy check on a cow and a calf dehorning. When we reach the cow, Joe hands me a shoulder-length glove and a tube of lubricant. “Go ahead, Dr Wiley.”
I get on with the messy job. “It’s a bit hard to tell for sure,” I tell him. “I’m pretty sure she’s pregnant, but she wouldn’t be that far along.” He accepts my verdict, and we get on with the dehorning.
When we get back to the clinic, Lou Ann is waiting for us.
“So, what do you think, Rachel?” she asks.
“Well, it’s a lot more strenuous than I’m used to, but I think I’d really like it.”
She nods. “I thought you would. Come on, I’ll take you to the shower.”
After lunch, which consists of Lou Ann’s special cheese and date sandwiches, she drives me back to my hotel. It’s a few minutes past two when we get there, and Jean Paul is outside in the gardens.
“Lou Ann, there’s a friend of mine I’d like you to meet. He’s just up ahead.”
“Sure. Who is it?”
“Jean Paul Gaston. He works at the vet school doing research.”
She parks about fifty feet from Jean Paul. Seeing us, he waves.
“Hmmm, I think I’m beginning to understand your sudden change in plans,” Lou Ann says.
We make our way towards Jean Paul. Without hesitation, he kisses my cheek.
“Jean Paul, I’d like you to meet Lou Ann, a really good friend of mine.”
“Howdy, Jean Paul,” Lou Ann says, shaking his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says. “How was your morning?”
“A-1,” Lou Ann says. “As a matter of fact, my husband and I have all but convinced Rachel to come and work at our clinic. Maybe you can work on her for us.”
Jean Paul turns to me.
“Well, I’d better be off,” Lou Ann says. “Nice seeing you, Jean Paul. Hope we get to see lots more of each other.”
She’s killing me.
I smile at Jean Paul. “I’ll just see Lou Ann to her truck.”
When we’re out of ear shot, I take Lou Ann by the arm. “You are so incredibly bad,” I tell her.
She chuckles. “I haven’t had that much fun in ages.” At her truck, she hugs me. “Joe and I will wait to hear from you, Rachel. We’re over the moon that you’ve come for a visit, and you know we’d do just about anything to have you work with us.”
“Thanks, Lou Ann. It’s great seeing you both again.”
When I walk back to Jean Paul, he says, “Is it true, Rachel? Are you thinking of moving to Texas?”
Lou Ann is one of those people who no one knows whether to take seriously.
“I’m thinking about it,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “Sometimes the world seems very incredible.” Smiling, he says, “I would like to take you to a place about an hour away for a short hike. Would that be okay with you?”
“Sure. Just give me a minute to get my hiking boots from my room.”
When I return, Jean Pau
l takes my hand and leads me to his car in the parking lot. With the sudden intimacy of the car, we both fall silent. Jean Paul doesn’t tell me where we’re going, and I don’t ask. A few minutes into the drive, he tells me stories about his childhood in France.
“What was your childhood like?” he asks.
“Would you mind terribly if I didn’t have a past?”
“Just a present and a future then.”
“Yeah.”
“No, it would not bother me at all.”
For the rest of the trip, we talk about trivial things that only seem interesting on long car drives. Shortly after three thirty, we reach Lake Somerville State Park, and I’m amazed by the beauty of the area.
“Lake Somerville is a birdwatcher’s dream,” Jean Paul says.
And he’s not kidding. As we walk up to the lake, we see pelicans and vast numbers of ducks.
“Let’s go for a hike,” Jean Paul says.
Walking past some flats, we see a pair of red-shouldered hawks. As they take off, they drive the ducks crazy. Walking ahead of me, Jean Paul leads me to some high ground. Soon, we’re standing on the north side of a rock ridge.
Turning to me, Jean Paul says, “We must leave the trail now, so that I can show you a place I like very much.”
With so many large rocks to climb over, it’s a bit tough going, but I love the rough terrain. After a few minutes, we come across an amazing outgrowth of Spanish moss hanging from trees. The whole area looks like a scene from a fairy tale.
“This whole ridge faces north,” Jean Paul says. “Since it doesn’t get a lot of sunlight, the moss grows freely.”
After a few quiet moments, he leads me to the west-facing slope of the ridge until we’re surrounded by nothing but big loose rocks. Smiling, he says, “These rocks are one of most unique features of this park.”
About fifty feet away from us, we see a group of six men. Waving, they make their way towards us. In heavily accented English, they tell us that they are German naturalists on vacation. Eager to spend time with Americans, they invite us to dine with them at a nearby Mexican restaurant, which they swear makes the best margaritas and fried avocados. We gladly accept. Their good-natured banter puts me in mind of Bryan and his workmates. As we drive out of the park, Jean Paul points to an eagle flying overhead. “Nature in all her potency,” he says.
Over dinner, our German friends regale us with tales of foreign escapades: “Remember the fried termites we ate in Nigeria?” “The only thing I remember is that madman who jumped on the hood of the car. I tell you, I damned near shit myself.” After a two hour meal, amid protests, we leave for home. Walking out of the restaurant, we hear their carefree voices and unrestrained laughter.
On the drive back to College Station along the flat straight highway, the setting sun falls below the horizon, causing flames and swirls of vivid orange to light up the sky.
“You are very quiet, Rachel,” Jean Paul says. “Are you okay?”
“Just a little tired.”
“Too many changes too quickly.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s it.”
At the hotel, Jean Paul walks me to my room. Hugging me, he says, “I’m afraid to hold you too tightly, Rachel, for fear of crushing your wings.”
He asks me to phone him in the morning when I wake up.
Chapter 21
Waking up the following morning, I feel anxious and phone Lou Ann to see if she wants to do something. She’s ecstatic to have me come over and spend the day with her, and offers to pick me up at ten. A few minutes before ten, I call Jean Paul.
“Hello, Rachel,” Jean Paul says. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a log.”
“Is that good?”
“Very good.”
“Then I’m glad.”
“Lou Ann should be here any minute to pick me up. We’re going to spend the day together.”
“Oh. Will you be gone all day?”
“I’m not sure.”
Silence.
“I can call you when I get back,” I tell him.
“I would like that.”
Putting down the receiver, I’m overcome by a familiar feeling: that of being free and happy, but also strangely let down.
Lou Ann and I spend the day visiting her relatives, who are as crazy as she is. In the early afternoon, as we’re standing in a room full of people at her aunt’s house, Chase, her eighteen-year-old nephew, offers to marry me so that I can become part of his large extended family.
“Don’t listen to him, Rachel,” Lou Ann says, “it’s the hormones talking,” and everyone laughs.
After dinner at Lou Ann’s place, she takes me on a tour of the attached apartment. When we’re done, she says, “Rachel, why don’t you sit down with me on the sofa. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”
Relaxing into the sofa, she says, “It’s pretty obvious something’s got you down. Are you still doing that crazy dance you do when a nice guy starts to show you affection? You want to be with him one minute; then you want to run away the next.”
I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Lou Ann has known me for ten years, but I hadn’t known she was paying such close attention.
“You don’t have to be an Einstein to see what’s going on, Rach. Your father beat you, your mother, and your sisters, and you’re afraid to let any man close in case he does the same thing. Don’t you think it’s time you broke that pattern of behavior?” She gives me a direct look. “Why don’t you talk to Jean Paul about your past and your fears? Give him a chance to help you through it.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to Lou Ann. I don’t ever want to think or talk about it.”
“Then don’t talk directly about it. Just allude to it.”
And just like that, I feel like laughing.
“Lou-Ann, how do you allude to being beaten?”
She shrugs. “You could say, ‘Jean Paul, I’ve had a hard life, and I’m afraid to get close to someone too quickly.’ Then let him take it from there.”
“I think I’d rather run away.”
She reaches for my hand. “Rach, you deserve better. And if I remember correctly, the more you like a guy, the more you want to run away. How badly do you want to run this time?”
“I’d be willing to take a shuttle to Mars right about now.”
“Wow, you must really like this guy. Come on, Rachel. Talk to him. You can do it.”
Lou Ann has always been a go-getter.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I tell her. “I might just give it a try.”
“Good. Just remember, I’ll be here cheering you on.”
On the way back to the hotel, I tell Lou Ann about the decision I’ve made. “I’ve thought about your offer, Lou. How about I volunteer with you guys for a month, and then we’ll see how it goes from there?”
“Jeepers, Rach, that doesn’t seem very fair.”
“Believe me, it feels more than fair to me.”
“Alright. If that’s the way you’d like to play it. When would you like to start?”
“How about moving in tomorrow and starting work on Tuesday?”
“Wow, Rach, that would be great. I could pick you up at your hotel tomorrow around one thirty. Then we’ll get you all moved in.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Outside the hotel, as I’m getting out of the truck, Lou Ann reaches for my arm.
“Do you trust him, Rachel?”
“Pardon?”
“Have you looked into Jean Paul’s eyes? Do you trust him?”
There aren’t any thoughts running through my head, only the awareness of impulses clicking away in my brain, like the noises you hear from those giant horoscope machines after you’ve deposited your coins. Suddenly, out of some secret place, a slip of paper emerges. “Yeah, I trust him.”
“Me too.”
Back in my room, I look at the clock. It’s only seven thirty. I phone Jean Paul. He picks up on the second
ring.
“I was hoping you would call,” he says.
“Can I see you tonight?” I ask.
“Of course. I can be there in ten minutes.”
Waiting outside the hotel, sitting on a large rock, I find myself thinking about an English professor who taught me Greek mythology. He believed that all of life’s dramas were caused by gods, goddesses, muses, and the like, as they hovered above us in the ether. Having shot their arrows, I wonder what plans they have for Jean Paul and me.
“Hello, Rachel,” Jean Paul says, startling me.
Looking up, I say, “Jean Paul, can we go to your place? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
In his usual gentle manner, he drives us to a very tall building. After parking the car, he opens my door, takes my hand, and leads me to an elevator. I don’t pay attention to which button is pressed, but it’s a long ride upward. Walking into his apartment, I walk into a Renaissance painting: there are Botticelli-like murals painted on the walls. Taking my hand, Jean Paul leads me to one of the sofas.
Stalling, I tell him about my plans to move into Lou Ann and Joe’s apartment. He makes the appropriate responses but waits for me to tell him what’s really on my mind. During the silence that follows, I have to fight the rising urge to run away. Then I think of Verna’s words: “Sometimes in life, you have to walk to the precipice, feel the fear, and then jump over. With wild abandon, jump over.”
Looking at Jean Paul, I say, “My father beat me up badly when I was growing up, and it’s made me afraid to get close to anybody. That’s why I was afraid to see you today. That’s why I feel like running away, even now.”
Giving me a tender look, he says, “I will never hit you, Rachel. I will not touch you if you do not want me to. Will you tell me about your past?”
I shake my head. “It’s too awful. I don’t want to feel pathetic, and I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I just want to be normal and pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Rachel, you run away from those things that remind you of the pain, but you cannot outrun the pain you feel inside. It would be better to work through it and put it behind you.” He briefly touches my arm. “Let me share your burden, and together we will find a way to get through it.”