by DW Davis
Once we had a truck with which to tow, it was time to find a horse trailer to tow. I was thinking we would get a simple, straightforward horse trailer that could carry a couple of horses. Maeve had other ideas.
She'd seen the Gallaghers’ trailer, the one they used for going to rodeos and horse shows. It had room for three horses, a small tack room, and a tiny bunk room. Maeve’s enthusiasm for that large a trailer dimmed somewhat when I reminded her that she’d be the one towing it and backing it.
“How often do you think you'll be going off overnight with Raven?” I asked Maeve as we were sitting in the den at home looking over the brochures we’d picked up.
“I don't know,” she replied absently, comparing the trailers on the covers of two of the brochures. “It could be a lot or a little. Maybe Malori would like to come up and go with me to some things.”
I knew she was probably right about that. Eventually, we decided on a two-horse trailer with a changing room that was just big enough to put down a couple of sleeping bags.
Eight
It seemed like we’d barely gotten the horse situation figured out when it was time to go back to school. Maeve was teaching English Composition One and Two, three classes of freshmen and two of sophomores. I was beginning my sophomore year of college. Maeve's first workday preceded my first day of class by two days.
“What are you going to be doing for two days while I'm hard at work?” Maeve asked me the last night before she started her teaching career. She was looking over all the things she planned to take with her to school the next day.
Watching her pack and re-pack everything in her tote bags and boxes, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe we should’ve brought the horse trailer down for you to pack it all in. It might have been big enough.”
“Very funny,” Maeve retorted. “I want to make sure I'm prepared.”
Smiling at her defensiveness, I said, “You should certainly be prepared for anything.”
Judging from the dark look Maeve gave me, I don't think she was amused. I finally realized she was more nervous than she’d let on.
“Babe, you’re gonna do fine. You'll be a great teacher, and the kids will love you.”
Maeve had shown me the glowing recommendation Miss Preston, her student teaching coach, wrote when Maeve applied for the position at Laney.
“Miss Preston doesn’t hand out praise lightly, and she thinks you’ve got what it takes.” I smiled, remembering my days in Miss Preston’s class. “I can't believe she’s still teaching.”
Maeve looked at me, and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “Do you really think I'll do okay?”
I got up from my desk and pulled her to me. “You will be the best thing that ever happened to those kids,” I promised her as I took her in a bear hug.
She clung to me tightly for a moment, and then relaxed. “Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.”
Her moment of crisis passed, and the confident Maeve returned.
“You still haven't answered my question,” she reminded me.
“What question was that?” I replied innocently, sitting back down at my desk.
Maeve lowered her head and looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, that question,” I snickered. “Tomorrow I'll go by the campus bookstore to get my textbooks and other assorted stuff for classes. The next day I figured I would go fishing.”
Her expression left no doubt she didn't like that idea.
“Or I could come to school with you and help you get your room ready.”
Her smile left no doubt she thought that was the better plan.
Why seeing Derrick in the college book store the next morning surprised me, I don’t know. He’d called a few days before to let me know he was home from Parris Island, having survived Marine Corps basic training. We’d planned on meeting for lunch at the Seahawks’ Nest later that same day.
Maybe it wasn’t seeing him that surprised me. Rather, it was seeing the change in him. Derrick was always fit and trim from his martial arts training, but now his muscles bulged under the red Marine Corps t-shirt he was wearing. And this new Derrick had no hair to speak of. He’d always worn it short. Now there was nothing but stubble.
Derrick noticed me staring at his nearly bald scalp. “It’ll grow back,” he said as he reached up to rub his head. “But not much. Gotta keep it short now.”
“You look good,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Marine training must agree with you.”
“I’m not so sure it agreed with me, but it didn’t kill me,” Derrick said, with a dry chuckle. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but it was no day at the beach.”
We finished up our business at the book store and headed to the Nest where we swapped training stories over an early lunch.
As we finished up our lunch, I invited Derrick to the house for dinner.
“I’m sure Maeve would love to see you,” I said. Actually, inviting Derrick over had been her idea.
“Ah, man,” Derrick said, shaking his head sadly. “That sounds good, but I already have plans. Do you remember Vanessa?”
“Isn’t she the girl whose dad owns Del Mar out in Nags Head?”
“That’s her. She’s in town visiting her cousin from Durham who’s going to school here. Tomorrow she heads back to State for the fall semester. We’re all going out tonight.”
“Sounds cool,” I said. “Another time then.”
“You know it,” Derrick said, clapping me on the back. “I’ll see ya, Mike.”
He jogged off toward his car. I walked back to mine, admiring how nice the GTO still looked for a twenty-year-old car.
I’d been home about an hour, organizing my materials and schedules for the classes that’d be starting in a couple days, when Maeve arrived fresh from her teacher work day. She had her arms full of books and binders.
“How was your first work day?” I asked as I took a stack of books from her.
Her chest heaved with a big sigh, but a smile curled her lips. “It was busy, busy, busy,” she said. “There’s so much that has to be done before Open House. And all us Initially Licensed Teachers have an ILT meeting tomorrow at Central Office all day. I don’t know when I’m going to get all this done.”
I set her books down at her end of the table in our office-slash-study. My stuff was still spread out all over the other end.
Picking up and looking at what must have been a grammar book, I asked, “How soon is Open House?”
She dropped the rest of her burden on the table and pushed back a few locks of strawberry blond hair that had fallen in her eyes. “It’s the day after tomorrow.”
“And you have to spend all day tomorrow in a meeting?” I asked, eyes wide. “That sure doesn’t leave you much time to get ready.”
Maeve shook her head, causing those errant locks of hair to fall into her eyes again.
“No, it doesn’t. That’s why I brought all this home. Looks like I’m in for a late night.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’ve already taken care of supper,” I told her. “So you get organized while I set the table.”
Maeve’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “You cooked?”
A sheepish grin crossed my face. “Uh, to be honest, no, I didn’t. Actually, I ordered calzones from Dupree’s. They should be here any minute.”
“I should have known,” Maeve said, shaking her head, but she was smiling.
Over supper, Maeve looked at me, pointing her knife and fork at the half a calzone left on her plate. “Why did you order two? We never finish them.”
“Leftovers,” I replied. “Now we don’t have to worry about what to have tomorrow night.”
Maeve rolled her eyes and took a final bite. After washing it down with the last of her iced tea, she looked up and said, “Did I tell you the first football game was this Friday?”
“Do you want to go?” I asked. “We can leave for River Dream first thing Saturday morning.”
“Nah, it
’s an away game. The next week is at home; we’ll go to that one.”
“All right,” I said. “We’ll plan on that then.”
I got up and went to the cabinet to find containers for our leftovers.
“Did I mention that I saw Derrick at the book store this morning?”
Maeve took the containers from me. “I knew you were supposed to have lunch with him today. It makes sense that he was at the book store, too. How’s he doing?”
“He looked good. Basic training didn’t hurt him any.”
Maeve laughed. “I didn’t think it would. Did you tell him I’m still mad at him about missing our wedding?”
“I told him that’s why I couldn’t invite him to supper tonight,” I said, trying hard to keep a straight face.
Maeve slammed the refrigerator door and turned to me. “Michael J. Lanier, you did not.”
I turned to the sink so she couldn’t see the grin on my face. “Well, of course I did.”
She moved up behind me and I felt a sudden pain as she pinched my neck. “You better be kidding, mister.”
Spinning around, I grabbed her in a bear hug. “Of course I’m kidding.”
I bent forward and kissed the frown off her lips.
“I asked him to come for dinner, but he had plans. Vanessa’s in town visiting her cousin, and they were going out tonight.”
Maeve pressed her hands against my chest and looked up at me, her heather blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, okay then. I suppose you can have dessert.”
Nine
The rest of the week went by in a blur as Maeve and I got busy with our new academic years. Before we knew it, Friday afternoon arrived.
We’d barely gotten the Cessna tied down before Maeve was ready to head to the stable to see Raven.
“Don't you think we should stop by the house first?” I inquired reasonably.
Maeve gave me a glare. “I'll drop you off if you want; I'm going to see my horse.”
I didn't feel like going to the stable, so I let her drop me off. Thus, a routine was born. Saturdays became Maeve's riding days.
During football season, if Laney had a home game, we would go to the game and wait to fly home Saturday morning. Otherwise, we’d fly up on Friday evening. Early Saturday, Maeve would rise, cook us breakfast, and head to the stables for her lessons. The joy she took in learning to ride and getting to know Raven made me happy for her.
We still sailed. One weekend a month Raven would have to settle for a Friday night visit so that Maeve and I could spend the weekend on the water. If the wind and the weather were right, we would sail to Ocracoke and spend the night. Less favorable conditions might see us sail and motor to Morehead City for dinner at the Sanitary Fish Market. Other times we might sail upriver to New Bern, tie up at Union Point Park and walk to dinner at one of the restaurants downtown. Eventually the shorter days and colder weather limited our sailing to the waters close to home.
The shorter days and longer nights also meant the semester was coming to an end. Maeve had a good first semester and was, for the most part, happy being a teacher. My semester went well, too. Only taking four classes meant less homework and less stress. Maeve was against my doing that at first, until I reminded her I really didn’t need to hurry and finish my degree.
Semester’s end also meant the arrival of the holiday season. With Christmas coming up, Maeve told me Mr. McHale had polled the faculty about where they would like to have the staff luncheon.
“Mr. McHale told us at the staff meeting that some kind soul had offered to pick up the check so we could eat out at a nice place instead of having a pot luck buffet in the cafeteria,” Maeve said. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Michael?”
I gave her my best aw shucks grin. “Well, I might have mentioned something to Mr. McHale about y’all having a nice party off campus. Where’d you decide to go?”
“The overwhelming favorite was Primavera’s, the new Italian restaurant that opened up on Market Street last spring.”
“Primavera’s, huh? I don’t know about an Italian restaurant that doesn’t serve pizza,” I said. “What is it Mr. DeLuca says, ‘Primavera’s serves fine Italian cuisine which, in my opinion, does not include pizza.’ His prices certainly reflect how fine he thinks his Italian cuisine is.”
Maeve wrinkled her brow. “Having second thoughts about your offer?”
I shook my head. “No, a deal’s a deal. And when we ate there, the food was pretty good.”
“Yeah,” Maeve said. “I remember you weren’t very impressed. Didn’t you say you’d rather have a pizza at Dupree’s?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Babe, I’d rather have Dupree’s pizza than just about anything else.”
Her eyes narrowed, and I added, “Except your cooking, of course. Still, the staff voted for Primavera’s, so Primavera’s it’ll be.”
According to the story Maeve related to me later, on the last teacher work day before Christmas, the staff left campus on an activity bus and made their way to Primavera’s. Upon arriving, they were welcomed by the maitre d' who informed Mr. McHale that the bus would have to park behind the building as it was an eyesore. Somewhat taken aback, Mr. McHale had the driver move the bus once all the teachers had gotten off.
That taken care of, they approached the front door only to be told that they would have to wait outside until the room was ready for them. As it was twelve-thirty, the time they were supposed to be there, this did not sit well with Mr. McHale. The maitre d' did not seem too concerned, so Mr. McHale asked to speak to the manager or to Mr. DeLuca. The maitre d' sniffed imperiously and told them that perhaps the room was ready and they should follow him.
Primavera’s had an ample banquet room, but it didn’t appear much effort had gone into setting it up for their luncheon. After moving some of the chairs and tables themselves, the staff sat down and waited for their waiters and waitresses to arrive and begin taking orders. Twenty minutes later, they were still waiting. Mr. McHale went and found the maitre d' and inquired politely if they might expect service soon.
“We will get to you teachers when we get to you,” the maitre d' informed Mr. McHale before sticking his nose in the air and turning his back on the principal.
Mr. McHale again asked to speak to Mr. DeLuca, at which point the maitre d' walked away from him and directed one of the waitresses who had been standing by the wait station to go see what those teachers wanted to drink. Mr. McHale returned to the banquet room.
I later learned from talking to Mr. DeLuca that, unbeknownst to Mr. McHale, the maitre d' went to Mr. DeLuca’s office and told him those teachers were in the banquet room and demanding to be served.
Mr. DeLuca’d made a sour face. “Who do they think they are? How is it teachers are even being paid enough to dine in my restaurant? I will let them know that they should be grateful for the privilege and should mind their manners.”
I pieced together what happened next from several different versions of the story I heard after the fact.
The waitress had just finished taking the drink orders when Mr. DeLuca stormed in.
“I don’t know who you people think you are, but you do not come into my restaurant making demands of my staff. You are only teachers, after all. It is a crime that you are even paid enough to think about being able to dine here at my establishment. Now, you sit there and mind your manners and be glad I have decided to let you stay.”
Maeve and the rest of the staff sat there dumbfounded. Never had they imagined anyone would ever speak to them that way, especially not a business owner who they thought would appreciate their trade. Mr. McHale certainly wasn’t going to sit idly by while his staff was abused so.
“Now see here, DeLuca, we’ll save you the trouble of deciding to let us stay. We’re leaving.”
Mr. DeLuca shook his head slowly, a look of imperious condescension on his face. “Oh, I think not. We have already begun preparing your meals. You will not leave until you have pa
id for each and every one.”
Ten
At that opportune moment, I walked in, in the company of two detectives from the Wilmington Police Department whose wives taught with Maeve at the high school. The senior detective, Jason Lewis, whose brother had played with me on the soccer team, realized there was some kind of situation brewing.
“Is there some kind of a problem here?” Jason asked Mr. DeLuca.
Mr. DeLuca turned his arrogant gaze on Jason. “And just who are you?” he sneered.
“Detective Sergeant Jason Lewis, Wilmington PD,” responded Jason in a courteous and professional way.
“Very well, detective, I want these…teachers…arrested.” Mr. DeLuca said teachers as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Jason kept a straight face only through an enormous effort. He carefully avoided making eye contact with his wife. “Just what have they done, Mr. DeLuca?”
Mr. DeLuca put his hands on his hips and sputtered, “They are trying to leave without paying for their meals.”
“What meals? Have you folks had any meals?” Jason asked the teachers. Looking around the banquet room, he noted, “There are no plates on the tables.”
Mr. DeLuca practically snorted, “Of course there are no plates on the tables. They haven’t been served yet.”
His tone made it plain he thought Jason should have figured this out on his own.
Mr. McHale, knowing exactly who Jason, Paul, and I were, stepped forward. “As a matter of fact, detective, we haven’t even ordered yet.”
Mr. DeLuca's eyes flashed. “You just shut your mouth,” he commanded Mr. McHale.
Mr. DeLuca turned on Jason, “Call in a paddy wagon or whatever you have to do, detective, but I demand you arrest all of them.”
Jason took a deep breath to compose himself before saying, “Mr. DeLuca, you want me to arrest a room full of teachers because they have not paid for food you haven’t even prepared, for meals they haven’t even ordered? Is that correct?”
