by Ada Winter
Coming around now. “Well, it does smell good.
“That’s the spirit.”
I open the door wide and reach for the switch that controls the little hanging light over the round table. Clearing some stuff off now, Lane puts the food down and what he does next is sweet. He pulls the chair out and waits for me to sit down.
“Thank you.” What a gentleman.
He lifts out all the contents from the bag and sets it out on the table along with some plastic forks and spoons.
“We’ll have to eat out of the containers. I hope you’re all right sharing.”
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
I pull the hair away from my eyes and tuck it behind my left ear. Force of habit. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I started digging in with both hands.
This is nice. I overcome my initial feelings of being pissed and settle into a nice meal with Lane. His hair is tousled a bit from lying down on the bed earlier. If this is what he looks like in the next morning, then I’m a fan. He smiles at me from time to time and that feels really good, and we make some small talk.
Then Lane tells me a story about one time when he ordered Chinese food, and when he got it, he realized it was the wrong order but the delivery guy had already left. He started eating it anyway. Then five minutes later the delivery guy came back and asked for the food back, and in his hand was Lane’s correct order. Lane told him that he already started eating it and then the guy just went bonkers on him. Yelling at him, he was saying, “Open your eyes. Just open them and then you will know.” Lane had looked at him quizzically and said, “I’ll pay you for that one, too, and eat it for lunch tomorrow.” With that, the guy pocketed the money and walked away whistling.
He does have a way of making me laugh as his stories are all so funny. We finish eating and I am absolutely stuffed. I feel comfortable eating my normal portion sizes in front of Lane. This was well beyond my eating out rules when on a date:
1) No ordering ribs or anything messy.
2) Never eat food that will get stuck in my teeth.
3) No heavy drinks that would get me drunk quick.
4) Leave some food on the plate and never take it home.
5) Let the man pay.
I had broken rules one, two and three but don’t care.
“Well, thank you, Lane.”
“You’re welcome, Celia. It was my pleasure.” He was smiling boldly and I saw his eyes dart down for the briefest of moments. Looking down now, I can barely contain my horror.
Lane speaks next. “It’s pretty chilly in here. You may want to turn down the AC.”
“You…you….” I just laugh, turning a bright shade of red.
It turns out my bra-less nipples are protruding through my nightshirt, standing at attention. I pull my arms across my chest, covering them as best I could.
“You better go. It’s late.”
The truth is, if he stays another second, I think I may jump him. He looks so sexy that it takes all of my willpower to walk him out. By the look on his face as I close the door, he is thinking exactly the same thing.
Chapter 15
LANE
This time around, I knock on Celia’s door at a more reasonable hour. It is 7:00 in the morning and I think we are both still feeling a little groggy. Waking her up at midnight was not ideal, but all I had been able to think about for the full hour leading up until then had been about seeing her.
“Good morning, angel!” I try to sound upbeat despite still being tired.
“Good morning, Lane. I’ll be ready in just a minute.”
She looks beautiful with her red hair now up in a lazy ponytail. A few wisps of hair frame her face and she looks quite angelic. Celia is always beautiful, or at least I had never seen her when she wasn’t. I watch her gather up her stuff and pack it into her overnight bag.
She meets me at the door. “Allow me.” I take her bag from her and we make our way to the elevator.
There is a breakfast buffet included with the price of the rooms and I sure hope it has some real food like eggs and bacon and not just the bagel and muffin crap some of these places put out.
To my relief, the smell of eggs greets us as we exit the elevator. We find a seat near the window with a view of the outdoor pool and the parking lot beyond it. It’s a sunny day with some dense clouds forming off to the west.
Celia makes herself a cup of tea, plates some eggs, and grabs a cup of yogurt that she tops off with granola. I stack my plate with waffles, eggs, bacon, and toast and pour a large black coffee.
“Are you one of those tree huggers?”
“Huh?” The question catches her off guard.
“Have you ever hugged a tree?” I am smiling now so she knows I am kidding.
“Is it the granola?”
“That’s what gave you away. I immediately thought of John Denver and the Grape Nuts commercial. I can see you on a grand porch with the Colorado Rockies in the background pitching your yogurt and granola.”
“You’re nuts.”
“You mean I’m Grape Nuts.” We both laugh.
It’s so easy being with Celia. I can just be myself and not have to put up the front I do with so many other women. Isn’t that what strong relationships are all about? Of course, there was also love, commitment, equality and a bunch of other things. But Celia would make all of those things easy.
Commitment. I had never really thought about it with other women. But now with Celia, I considered it. This was big for me. It could be big for us.
“What are you thinking about, Lane?”
“Ohh…sorry. I was just daydreaming, I guess.” I sip my coffee.
“You looked intent. Focused.”
“I was thinking about you.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“What about me?”
“Oh, you know. The usual stuff.”
Questioning look. “And that is?”
“The usual.” This isn’t going anywhere. Probably because I am chicken-shit. Fuck it.
“I was thinking about how easy it is to be with you.”
“You feel comfortable with me?” A slight hint of flirtation and a touch of skepticism fills her voice.
“Yes, Celia Brennan, I do.”
“Did you feel comfortable when you were staring at my breasts last night?”
Oh shit. Not sure how to answer. Go with your gut. “Yes, very much so. I felt like you were projecting yourself to me.” I make an outward arm motion from my chest to her to illustrate.
“Is that right? Projecting?”
“Yes. In an outward way.” Smiling now and a hint of her smiling, too.
“Do you like it when I project myself?”
“I can’t think of anything I’ve enjoyed more. Please feel free to project at any time.”
“You’re an interesting man, Lane Astor. In a perverted kind of way.”
We stare at each other for a few moments, studying each other.
I break the silence. “I can really use another coffee. Can I get you anything else?”
“No, but thanks.”
That went well. Some innocent flirtation to start the day, along with a strong cup of coffee.
I offer to drive the first leg of the trip as I figure Celia will probably want to drive after we load the horse. Exiting the hotel parking lot now, it feels good to get on the road again.
Considering we are close to it now, Celia told me of a trip to Niagara Falls she took when she was a child. Her parents had honeymooned there and it held a special place in their hearts. On their first visit back, they took Celia and her older brother Sid. Sid had exclaimed that when he was older, he would attempt to go over the falls in a barrel. He meant it. She went on to say that Sid was a bit of a daredevil, and that I reminded her of him.
“Where are your parents now?” As soon as I said it, I could hear her skip a breath and knew som
ething was off.
“My mom is still living in Muncie, Indiana, and my dad died when I was young. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry, Celia.” My voice adjusts to the moment.
“It’s okay, Lane. Don’t feel bad for asking. It happened a long time ago and I barely knew him.”
“What do you remember about him?”
She pauses to think for a few moments, staring off out the window at the passing buildings. Looking at me now. “I remember he used to make me laugh. I felt good when I was around him. I remember he made me feel safe.”
“It’s great you have those memories.”
“He was a good dad. Sid remembered him better than I do. My mom told me all about him, too. He was a good man.”
“It’s funny. Not literally funny, but odd the way things work. My dad is still alive but he’s a real asshole. Always was. And your dad was this great guy and he left this world way too soon. It’s not right. I don’t wish that on my dad, but you know what I mean.”
“Life isn’t fair, Lane. I learned that lesson a long time ago, and it’s helped me cope with things that I never would have been able to handle otherwise. When I gave up on things not being fair, it helped me come to terms with the fact that what happens doesn’t always make sense.”
“I never really looked at it that way.”
She is quiet now and I feel bad for bringing up her family.
“I’m sorry, Celia, if I brought up some bad memories. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”
“You didn’t say anything wrong Lane. It’s just….” She pauses to think. “Some things are best left in the past.”
Nothing more needs to be said. I look at her reassuringly and take her hand with my free hand. I hold it next to me, and we drive for some time without speaking. She knows I am there for her.
Nothing is more important in this moment.
Chapter 16
CELIA
Lane is sweet. He is just trying to learn about me. To connect.
We hold hands now and it’s thoughtful of him to try to comfort me. He has no idea what is going through my head and he doesn’t force me to reveal it. I don’t want to let go, so I hold on. We drive in silence as my thoughts scan my deep-rooted memories. Memories that won’t go away. Memories that will always be there.
Who is this man sitting next to me? Who is he really? I’ve had so much fun with him on this trip. This would be an otherwise brutal and boring trip, and he’s made everything fun and bearable.
I would drive to California and back with him just for the hell of it. It’s the enjoyment of being with someone. Of co-existing in a harmonious way. It’s also about questioning myself. Questioning my past. Questioning my motivations.
I am in a growth spurt with Lane and it’s inevitable that sometimes tough stuff will come up. And then there would be the special moments like him reaching for my hand. A soft and tender gesture that revealed so much to me.
It reminded me of the scene from Bronx Tale. The old gangster gives the boy advice about going on a date. He tells him to go around the car and open the door for the girl, but make sure the driver’s side is locked. Then he instructs him to observe through the back window as he walks around the car. Does she unlock the door? If she does, she is a keeper. If she doesn’t, she is probably not worth pursuing.
Such a simple gesture, yet it provides a glimpse into the man he really is. Had Lane not grabbed my hand or tried to comfort me, would I be judging him in a negative way? No matter, he did. He cared enough to be open to my feelings and that’s not something that every guy can – or will – do.
Perhaps Lane is a keeper after all.
****
I awaken to Lane’s voice. We are coming up to the exit where we need to get off and he wants my input. Our hands are still locked together and this warms my heart. I rub my eyes with my free hand and then reach for the handwritten directions. After scanning them, I get my bearings.
“All right, Lane, let’s get off at exit 42. At the end of the ramp, turn right.”
“Will do.” His voice sounded upbeat.
I guide him the rest of the way, and within ten minutes we are pulling into Applegate Farm. Why a farm is called Applegate when they deal in horses I don’t know. Maybe it was an apple farm at some point and they converted over? I do remember seeing an old apple orchard tucked into a back corner of the farm the last time I was here, so maybe I had my answer.
Lane guides us to a stop in front of a man who now has his hand up in both a waving and ‘stop right here’ gesture.
He rolls down the window.
“You folks here for Lucky?”
I speak across Lane, finally releasing my hand from his as I pull out my paperwork.
“I’m Celia Brennan from Acadia. I have the paperwork for Lucky right here.”
I hand the papers to Lane and he passes them to the man who is deeply tanned and dressed in jeans, a jean jacket, sunglasses and an old red farmers cap faded from years of working outside. He walks off without a word and returns with a woman who must be Pat Kelly. She's the owner.
“Welcome, you two. I’m Pat Kelly.” Her voice is super-friendly and I can tell right away that she’s a genuinely kind woman.
“I’m Celia and this is Lane.”
We get out of the truck now and shake hands with her. She looks Lane over once or twice, and even this older woman likes what she sees. I feel proud in that moment in a ‘this guy is with me’ sort of way.
Lane speaks first. “What a wonderful farm you have here, Ms. Kelly.”
“Please, call me Pat.”
“Okay, Pat. I was here a few years ago and I dealt with Jim, I think.”
“Yes, Jim is my brother and he’s around here somewhere.”
Wanting to get down to business now, I continue. “I’ve heard Lucky is a wonderful horse. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“He sure is. We can see him right now if you follow me.”
She walks in such a graceful and dignified way. Her hair is colored salt and pepper and she’s strong and fit for her age. I hope I age as well as she has. Pat has long hair that she keeps braided into two long strands. Too many woman cut their hair when they reach a certain age. That has always bothered me. We stop at a pasture that must stretch for at least ten acres off to the west. There is a holding pen off to the right and that’s where I get my first look at him. He is an absolutely gorgeous silver color with bits of black, almost like a charcoal artist smudging, along his back just above the tail. A handler is in the pen now and tries to bring him over by the halter. He resists. The handler is using too much force.
“May I?” I ask Pat, gesturing to the pen.
“Sure. But be careful. He has an ornery side and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I step in cautiously, and even though I feel comfortable with most any horse, they can be unpredictable. I wave the handler off and he reluctantly lets go of the halter. Lucky’s front legs come up and kick furiously as if trying to swim in the air.
“Easy boy.” My voice is firm but reassuring.
His ears perk up and I can tell he hears me. I move slowly in his direction with one hand in the air in front of me.
“That’s it Lucky…easy now.” My hand gently finds his face as he lifts his feet off the ground again.
“Shhh…easy…shhh.”
He starts to calm. My voice, my posture, my stance, my words. They are all working in unison in a calming way. Lucky is settling now and I connect my forehead with his just above his nose and between his eyes. I softly brush his face. A tear streams down my face. Not for any other reason than the beautiful connection I have just made with this animal.
There is work to do to fully gain his trust, but the ice has been broken and I know we can work together. When I’m satisfied, I walk him over to the pen opening and the look on everyone’s face spoke to what had just transpired here. Thi
s was special in a way that seemed magical to those observing, but in a way that feels so natural to me.
I hold my hand up to keep the others at a distance and calmly walk Lucky over to the trailer, which one of the farm hands has already opened. I lead Lucky in, secure him, then leave the trailer and latch the door closed behind me.
Lane is standing just a short distance away, and the look on his face says it all. He’s impressed. I can swear I see a tinge of something else.
It’s relief.
Chapter 17
LANE
Celia guides me out by calling out directions and I can barely hear her as my thoughts return to what I had just witnessed. That was freaking amazing.
When we hit the highway, I break the silence.
“That was nothing short of amazing, Celia.” My words are genuine and I know Celia can sense that.
“It was nothing, Lane. It’s my job.” She’s looking down and away now, which tells me she seemingly doesn’t know how to take a compliment.
“Nothing? You have a gift, Celia.”
“I just do what comes naturally. Lucky was reading everything I was doing. I just had to see what he was seeing and adjust myself accordingly.”
“Still Celia, that handler had no clue how to handle Lucky. Surely the guy is experienced. You went in there like…like a ‘horse whisperer’.”
She laughs. “I’m not that Lane. I’ve been around horses for close to fifteen years. I feel comfortable with them and they sense that. I’ve met people much more talented than me.”
“You’re selling yourself short, Celia. Also, you need to learn how to take a compliment. So I’m going to say ‘you’re awesome with horses’ and you’re going to say ‘thank you’.”
Clearing my throat now for drama, and with a serious look on my face, I say, “You’re awesome with horses, Celia.”
She decides to play along. “Thank you.”
“You see, it’s easy. Let’s try another.”
