by Dana Taylor
My white-knuckle grip on the seat relaxed as we ascended above the treetops.
"How are you doing?” came through my earphones.
"Couldn't be better,” I yelled back.
His arm pointed at something to my right. I looked over to catch the view. The wind immediately slapped my face as I leaned beyond the protection of the glass shield. I could see downtown Peeler-the tops of brick buildings, the ballpark and public pool. Then came the highway and the big new Wal-Mart with its packed parking lot. Quickly, civilization was behind us and we sailed over green pastures dotted with red pools of water and lazy cattle. Lines of trees followed creek paths. A long railroad track cut across the landscape and disappeared on the horizon.
Rushing wind, clouds above, earth below. Blood rushed to my head. No wonder he was hooked on this exhilarating hobby.
"Ready for a little more action?” His voice came through mechanically in the earphones.
"Sure, I'm game!"
It was airplane roller coaster time. Straight up, nose dive down, roll for a turn. The engine would go amazingly quiet and then screech in irritation. Pretty soon I was screeching myself. Laughing and screaming as the world was no longer below, but seemed above. All sense of direction got lost in the swirls of twists and turns, a wild carnival ride without the safety of terra firma below.
Stomach twirling, head spinning, sky below, earth above, all senses jumbled and confused. It seemed to go on and on until I feared the plane would just disintegrate into floating bits of debris and the coroner would identify me by dental records.
Then we turned right side up again easing out of the sky. He banked to the left and I realized we were making an orderly descent. While I had been lost in the clouds, he'd known where we were every minute. The plane made contact with mother earth.
I would live to see another day.
My head spun as I commanded my arms and legs to get their act together and take me out of the plane. Jason helped me down to the ground. Laughing and barely able to stand, my body had degenerated into the proverbial wet noodle. Jason held me loosely as I hooked my hands over his shoulders and bent my head to his chest in a continued fit of semi-hysterical laughter. He removed my goggles and headgear and threw them into the plane.
He chuckled, caught up in my contagious laughter. “Are you all right?"
Shaking my head and still laughing, I said, “No.” Suddenly, I didn't feel like laughing at all. My stomach lurched and I pushed away from him. Oh, yuk, my potluck church lunch threatened to rise up my throat. Running as fast as I could toward the creek, I sought a little privacy and found a large red rock to sit on. I gulped in huge whiffs of air fighting off the nausea. His feet trotted up behind me and then slowed as he found me perched on the rock. He sat down behind me, back to back.
In a commanding and calm voice he said, “Sit up and lean against me. Slow down your breathing or you'll hyperventilate and I don't have a paper bag on me."
"How,” gasp, “inconsiderate."
The solid wall of his spine supported mine. His strength radiated through my shoulder blades as the world righted itself again. We didn't talk while I fought for stability.
Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings. The creek trickled a few yards away, shaded by a canopy of cottonwood trees that formed a trail along the water. Warm sunlight dappled through the leaves of protective overgrown limbs sheltering us from the chilly wind.
I swung my legs around, so I was seated next to him. He had one ankle hooked over his knee. He watched me with concern. “Better?"
"Better."
He smiled and winked. “Like I've said before, you're a good sport."
"Or, like P.T. Barnum said, ‘There's a sucker born every minute.'” I reached down and pulled some wild mint from the ground, dusted off the leaves with my fingers and nibbled on it.
I offered him a sprig. “Want some?"
He knit his eyebrows. “Maybe later."
I crushed a leaf under his nose. “It's mint. God knew I was going to need something to settle my stomach someday, so he planted it right here for me."
He picked a small rose rock off the ground and started tossing and catching it with one hand. “Or maybe the wind blew the seeds, they hit this rock, it rained and they sprouted."
"I like my version better.” I sat back on the rock and crossed my legs, Indian style. “Don't you believe in God?"
He frowned in thought. “I don't think about God. I guess I hope He's out there somewhere, but I don't see Him in every tree. I think God set things in motion and then stepped back."
I hugged myself at that cold thought, another reminder of our differences. “How sad. If I didn't have faith to get me through life, I don't know what I'd do. I can understand how people turn to drugs and alcohol if they have no spiritual connection."
He looked straight ahead as I studied his strong profile. “My father taught me to be self-sufficient. I don't have a need to go sit in a church or worship the trees.” He jiggled his foot on his knee.
"You're a liar."
He looked at me sharply.
"You just take your church ten thousand feet in the sky. Don't tell me you don't ever have private talks with God when you're up in the wild blue yonder."
He explored the idea and then spoke with a trace of wonder. “Maybe you're right. I do look for answers when I'm up there. Maybe I am talking to God.” He pitched the rock into the creek. It made a lively splash.
I tossed aside the mint stem. “Maybe there's hope for you yet."
He stood, looked around, and then offered me his hand. “It's nice out here.” He pulled me up and didn't let go of my hand as we started to follow a path along the creek. His long legs outdistanced mine. I struggled to keep up. We hurried at an increasing pace for no good reason, merely because that was his habit. My breathing was getting labored. We crunched through dead leaves; dangling branches slapped our faces.
Was this his idea of a stroll?
"Wait!” I yanked on his hand as I abruptly stopped and held my ground.
He looked down at me. “What's the matter?"
I let go of his hand. “Close your eyes."
"What for?"
"Humor me."
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, sighed, and closed his eyes.
"Mr. Brooks, you need to get in touch with mother earth."
He made a little snorty sound, but kept his eyes closed.
I used my best relaxation therapy voice as my eyes drifted shut. “Now I want you to take a deep breath ... now take another ... another. Become aware of your surroundings through your senses. What do you smell? What are your senses telling you about this very moment?"
As I took him through the meditation, I fell into it myself. Deep earthy aromas filled the air, decaying leaves and wet rocks. A light breeze ruffled my hair. “Now what do you feel? Can you feel the breeze on your skin and sense the wavering sunlight through your closed eyelids? Listen to the surrounding sounds ... hear the breeze tossing the tree tops ... there's a cardinal calling to his mate..."
We stood silently. I'd really gotten into my own instructions. My body seemed weightless as I absorbed the atmosphere through all my senses. My being pulsed with the beat of the land. A kaleidoscope of colors traveled across my mind's eye. Singing birds, blowing wind, trickling water created a natural symphony. Peace permeated the moment. I slowly opened my eyes, hoping Brooks had achieved a moment of nature nirvana, too.
He stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed watching me with an amused gaze, shaking his head. “Are you sure you're not a witch?"
Mr. Lawyer ruined the moment.
"Just because I'm trying to help you get in touch with nature, does not make me a witch."
He pushed away from the tree and sauntered my direction. “Watching you there perform your little meditation started making me feel very natural, but maybe not exactly the way you intended."
He stopped a foot in front of me and took both my hands in his. “I sa
w the sun shining on your hair ... I heard your voice coming through the air ... and now that I'm standing this close to you I can smell those oils you use and...” He pulled me closer, leaned into my hair and placed his arms around my back. “You use some kind of flowery herbal shampoo. Yes, Miss Jones, you make me feel very close to nature."
I tilted my head back and stared into his face. His intense blue gray eyes bored into mine. The rhythm of our breathing began the sway of a slow dance. We rocked a little to the waves of the breeze. If you don't kiss me, Mr. Brooks, I'm probably going to die.
I didn't say it out loud, but he must have read it in my eyes because his lips turned up in a slow, small smile. I closed my eyes and gave into the moment.
His warm lips claimed mine; I leaned into his long frame. It was a sensual, luxurious encounter, unhurried and delicious. A different kind of communing with nature than I had intended, but nice, very nice, indeed.
Our lips parted but we enjoyed continuing the close encounter. He lightly touched his forehead to mine as his arms remained around me. The rumble of his voice vibrated through my body as he spoke. “I want to see you again. I've got to be out of town all week, but tell me you'll see me next weekend. I think you're good for me."
His overwhelming presence made me want to crawl into his pocket and stow away for the week. I stepped back to regain some common sense. “I'll check my social calendar and see my availability next week.” I pulled open an imaginary calendar and scanned it carefully. “Mmm, I think I can fit you in."
He grabbed my hand and guided me back in the direction of my house. “Good. Now I want to sample those cookies."
Chapter Five
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By Tuesday evening Mavis and I had worked up a plan of attack for the council meeting. The meetings took place in the fellowship hall at our church. Tables were pushed together at the front of the room for the council members, a state and US flag set the backdrop behind the table and a dozen chairs faced the dais for spectators.
Most meetings rarely had any outside attendance beyond Curt, the reporter for the Peeler Proclamation. Tonight, however, extra chairs were being set up as the audience swelled in numbers. Mavis had been busy on the telephone whipping up interest in the proposed hog farm.
The council members consisted of seven community members, four men and three women. Willie Stevenson and Hodge Rankin, a couple of old geezers, had been on the council since the beginning of time. Willie served the current mayor. He sported a large belly and always needed a haircut, while Hodge was tall and razor thin with practically no hair at all.
Brent Furneau, local realtor and glad-hander, was a few years older than me. He was also Charlene's brother and old Doc Furneau's son. A newcomer to the council was Ryan Allbright, considered an outsider because he'd only lived in Peeler for fifteen years. Ryan, a balding CPA, was a permanent member of the singles group at church. I'd dated him a couple of times, but his snorty laugh really turned me off.
Twin sister Agatha Raleigh added old-world charm to the council. She did a lot to champion town beautification. Retired teacher Betty Lawson with her short, gray hair and deep gravely voice had the best interests of the children of Peeler at heart. She had been my math teacher in high school. I'm sure she still considered me a numbskull, math not being my strong suit. Finally, rounding off the council was Cherry Greene, former homecoming queen and still hot-looking babe. I think she needed to stay in the limelight and being a mom with three kids just wasn't very glamorous. So, she turned to politics.
There was a lot of commotion before the meeting began. Mavis directed people to seats she had saved. She ordered Charles to set up more chairs. Willie, Hodge, and Brent stood by the American flag having a little pre-meeting pow-wow. Ryan and Betty were seated talking over a notebook one of them had brought. Agatha arranged a vase of flowers that decorated the table while Cherry adjusted her lipstick and hair.
Willie, Hodge, and Brent took their seats and Willie rapped a gavel.
"I officially call this meeting of the Peeler city council to order. Please stand for the pledge of allegiance..."
Willie seemed to enjoy dragging out the council business before taking up the issue of the hog farm. They discussed a new traffic light, flower boxes in the park, establishing a leash law. That caught a lot of flak. People who came to talk about hogs, didn't want any council members dictating how to take care of their dogs. Dogs were family members around these parts, most of them being smarter than people. If an occasional renegade mongrel caused trouble, he was conveniently shot. The town didn't need no stinkin’ leash law.
Finally, Mavis could stand it no more. “When are we going to talk about the hog farm? I've got children that need to go home and get to bed."
The crowd rumbled with agreement.
Willie's gaze roved the council members. He paused at Brent for a moment, then turned and put his most ingratiating down-home smile on for the town folk. “Well, fine, if it's hogs you want to discuss, let's do it."
Mavis jumped up. “We don't want any hog farm next door to us! They stink and ruin the ground water and we don't need it."
Willie put his hands up in supplication. “Now just hold on there, Mavis, we need to look at the facts and the proposal before the council. No need to get all het up. Betty, read the application before the council."
Betty's raspy voice ground out the fine print. “The Peeler Investment Group makes application to zone forty-four acres at,” she read the legal description, “for commercial development with the intent to build a hog farm. Said farm is projected to produce one hundred twenty thousand hogs per year, employ two-hundred fifty construction workers, forty permanent employees, and generate two hundred thousand dollars a year in tax revenue to the City of Peeler."
"Any discussion by council members before bringing up the matter for a vote?” Willie asked.
Realtor Brent took the floor, adjusting his pricey silk tie. “Any project that will bring that much tax revenue to town should be given favorable consideration."
Hodge, a modern day Echibod Crane, spoke up. “We could update the gymnasium and public pool with that kind of money."
Brent and Hodge took up a volley of positive comments about the economic impact of a hog farm. “It will be a major employer for the area ... it will encourage new housing ... it will mean more customers to all the local businesses."
By the time they were done, they'd made the hog farm sound like the community's economic salvation. We would be fools to turn it down.
Mavis looked at me worriedly. I stood up. “May I address the council?"
Willie's smile took on a sinister glint. “The chair recognizes Perse Jones. Make it quick, Perse, these folks want to get on home."
"I'd like to ask a couple of questions. First, who are the major stockholders of the ‘Peeler Investment Group?’ What kind of expertise do they have in hog farming? Are you aware that one state has hogs producing fifty thousand tons of hog waste a day? How is the waste going to be disposed of? Betty, you are always talking about the welfare of children. Did you know that other communities with large hog farms suffer from abnormally high rates of respiratory diseases? Can we trust these people to look at all the safety issues involved? Who are they? Who is the President of the Peeler Investment Group?"
"I am.” All eyes turned to the back of the room. Charlene Foster stood up and walked toward the front. “May I speak, Mr. Mayor?” she said with her piercing nasality.
Charlene was decked out in a black power suit. It would have been just the right conservative look except for the fake fur collar and cuffs. Her hair was coifed like a helmet. She leered at me with a Nazi stare.
"I am the President of the Peeler Investment Group and everyone knows I would only have the best interests of this town at heart. I've contracted with the top people in the industry to bring a quality operation to Peeler and you should all be thanking me for the economic boon it will bring to the community."
I was still standing. I'm s
ure we made quite a contrast. Charlene in her size twenty black Blues Brothers suit and me in my size nine flowery gauze gown. Charlene had every hair plastered in place, while my auburn tresses fought the confines of a silver clippy, the curls frizzing out as they pleased.
Something puzzled me. “Why has your association with this proposition been kept a secret? Have you got something to hide?"
Charlene sucked air. “Of course not. And it's not been a secret. Brent and Willie have been well aware of my involvement. I'm bringing new business to Peeler. Council approval should just be a formality. We don't need any voodoo medicine woman sticking her nose in something she knows nothing about."
It was the eighth grade all over again; Charlene and I going head-to-head. Why hadn't Charlene's name been prominently mentioned before now? I smelled a rat-or was it a hog?
I faced her. “We all know you are a pillar of Peeler society, but excuse me if I'm skeptical of your qualifications for running a huge pig farm. Before the council makes any definitive decision on allowing such a thing into our community, I think a lot more study needs to be done by unbiased people. And I don't think your brother on the city council qualifies."
Charlene's face flamed red as she took me on. “I earned a master's degree in business. My family has an impeccable history in this town. I'm investing in this city's future. What do you know about it, anyway? An illegitimate charlatan who foists phony health cures on the public doesn't qualify as an expert on economic development in my book."
That did it. The gloves came off.
"How much profit do you intend to make on this city while polluting its water and air?” I turned back to the council. “Say, Brent, what's your interest in the farm? Did little sister cut you in on the proceeds?"