by Vella Munn
“Maybe you’re right.” Michon felt defeated. “That’s a decision only you can make.”
Chas touched her cheek lightly. “You’re right. Only I can do that. I’m sorry. I have to leave now.”
As Michon stumbled back toward the bus she glanced down at her nails. Why did they have to be short? Burying them in April’s flesh would—what was she thinking about? How could she blame April for the cloud that existed between herself and Chas?
The trip back to civilization reminded Michon all too much of a birthday party that had had to be canceled because her parents had to work overtime. The only difference was that when she was thirteen there’d been the promise of the party being held a few weeks later. Now there was no straw to cling to, no pretending that Chas would be waiting to talk to her when they reached the city.
For once the sound level from the teenagers wasn’t at a headache-producing level. Michon rather suspected it was a combination of tiredness and a letdown, now that the expedition was over. She appreciated the dull murmur of voices around her. It was proof that she was still alive.
Michon stared out the window without really seeing the change from desert land to increasing signs of civilization. Coming back to what was familiar didn’t dull the memory of days and nights on the John Day in the company of a man who’d touched her in ways she’d never been touched before. She wanted to cry, but was afraid that once she started there would be no stopping. Tonight, when she was back at her apartment, was soon enough to give in to the dead feeling that surrounded her memories.
She roused herself enough to say good-bye to the others when they reached the high school and loaded her belongings into the car she’d left in the teachers’ parking lot. She thought about calling Harry’s house to see if he was home, but wanting to pick up Worthless and the need for a shower and shampoo won. Besides, Harry would ask questions she might not be able to fend off.
An hour later Michon was standing under a warm spray of water in her bathroom. A pile of sleeping bags and dirty clothing was just inside the front door, but she wasn’t going to worry about them until tomorrow. Worthless was running around, yapping excitedly. Although her main thought when she stepped into the shower was to rid her hair of sand and dirt, she hadn’t been in there long before she felt some of the dull exhaustion leaving her body. At least she had her dog to welcome her home. She still felt tired, muscles aching from having to sit in the hard bus seat, but her mind was starting to come back to life. And with that came the pain.
There was no longer any need to hide her tears, her heartache, from prying eyes. Michon lowered her head and let the water beat on her sodden hair. Under the shelter of hair and dissolving shampoo she gave in to the tears that threatened to split her head apart. She was aware of nothing except her private agony until the water turned cold.
She was shivering slightly as she wrapped a towel around her body and stared at her image in the mirror. The eyes that looked back at her were ghostlike.
“He really did it to me,” Michon told Worthless. “When I finally fall in love I go all the way. I don’t hold anything back.”
It would have been safer if she had. That way there would be something of her left.
Michon slipped into a robe and wandered around her apartment, running her fingers over the dust on the coffee table, shrugging because a spider had left his handiwork on the ceiling light. What had she ever seen in the place? White walls, brown carpeting, drapes the color of every other drape in the apartment complex. The pictures she’d put on the wall, the few plants that managed to survive the poor light, they hadn’t been enough to turn the place into a real home. Only an ugly, loving mutt gave it life.
Chas’s log home was real. It had enough character, enough personality. Michon picked up a china cat figurine and held it tightly. It was only through great effort that she held back from dashing it against the far wall. She hated the place! She was more determined than ever to pursue her newfound interest in history, but that wasn’t the only change she would make in her life.
“This place is going to drive us both crazy if we don’t get out of here,” she told Worthless. “I’ve got to find a place that’s real.”
Chas’s home. The only place she wanted to be.
She picked up Worthless and went into her bedroom. Michon again stared at her reflection. It was the face of a woman who was waving the white flag of surrender. But Michon wasn’t ready to surrender—not yet. Too much—everything was at stake.
I can’t forget you, Chas. I’m not made that way. What went wrong? I have to know.
She wasn’t able to set about looking for the answer in the morning. First she called Harry’s house. His wife informed her that Harry was already back at school. After some frustration Michon was able to reach him and made an appointment to see him during his lunch hour. She called the admissions office at the college and learned that her high school and college transcripts would have to be forwarded to the college before a counseling session could be set up. Michon felt slightly shaky as she hung up. Was she really this serious about starting over with a new career?
But the thought of going back to Chantilla was a lot more frightening than becoming a student.
Harry moved stiffly as he pulled out a chair for Michon in the teacher’s lounge, but other than that he looked pretty good. “I’ve had the life teased out of me,” he laughed. “My fellow teachers are determined not to let me forget that I just about drowned. They keep saying something about my not being a spring chicken.”
“Are you sure you’re up to being here so soon?” Michon asked as she sat down. She was no longer dressed in a sweat shirt and old jeans, but her casual blouse and slacks were as dressed up as she could handle.
Harry patted his side gingerly. “They’ve got me so taped up I couldn’t reinjure my ribs if I fell off a cliff. Besides, I wanted to be here when the pioneers returned. I haven’t heard everything yet, but from what I have, it was a success. I’m sorry you had so much responsibility dumped on you.”
“It was good for me.” Michon smiled. “I don’t particularly like the idea of being considered the older generation, but at least they didn’t rise up in rebellion.”
“That’s because you roll up your sleeves and get into the middle of things with the kids. They respect that.”
Michon took a deep breath. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she started. Before she was fully aware of it, she had launched herself. She wanted Harry to be honest, to tell her the negative as well as positive aspects of teaching. “I’m not starry-eyed,” she said. “I know it calls for commitment to become a teacher, especially on the high-school level. But the John Day has tuned me in to history. I never felt this way about the job I have now. In fact I get a little nauseated thinking about having to go on working there to finance my education.”
Harry was watching her intently. ‘I’m impressed by your ambition. How are you going to finance this education of yours?”
“I’m not sure,” Michon admitted. “I could probably do some kind of sales work, but it’s going to be hard working around classes.”
“Hm. There’s something you might want to think about. Both this school and the college have positions for aides. They don’t pay that well, but the hours are flexible. You might look into that. But, Michon, I don’t understand. You haven’t said anything about Chas. I thought you two—”
Michon shook her head. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t get trapped in that kind of thinking, but that was before she’d heard Chas’s name. “No,” she whispered. “Chas and I—it didn’t work out.”
“He doesn’t blame you for the accident, does he?” Harry pressed. “I made sure he understood about my shoulder.”
“Chas told me you’d assumed responsibility. I still don’t feel right about not telling him before, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Michon groaned. “I don’t know. He keeps talking about
adults and growing up as if—I don’t know what he’s thinking. He won’t explain.”
Harry leaned forward. “He’ll have to if you insist.”
“I tried,” she explained. “How I tried. But, Harry, there’s so much pain and anger in his eyes when he talks about that. I don’t know what to say.”
“And you just let him go? That doesn’t sound very mature.”
Despite herself Michon had to laugh. “It works both ways, doesn’t it? Harry, I’m not giving up. Whatever Chas feels has something to do with a woman he loved once. I have to find out what that is.” She didn’t add she was afraid that finding out what had Chas twisted in knots wouldn’t change things between them. Instead Michon turned the conversation back around to teaching until she was satisfied that she had a clear idea of what would be expected of someone who spent her days in a room with teenagers, with parents, principals, and taxpayers looking over her shoulder. When the bell announcing the end of the lunch period rang she got to her feet, gave Harry an affectionate hug and left.
For several minutes she sat in her car, gripping the steering wheel. If April was in real-estate appraisal work she should be easy to locate. Michon squared her shoulders and drove to the nearest pay telephone. She expected to have to call several firms until she found where April was working, but she soon learned that April had her own business. So April wasn’t some sweet young thing content to work under the sheltering blanket of a long-established firm. Even as Michon jotted down the address she was getting a mental picture of a competent businesswoman who did nothing on impulse. What had Chas seen in her? What could they have had in common—beyond the obvious, that is?
Michon had driven past the expensive east-side business complex before, but since she had little need for a business consultant or financial advisor, she hadn’t been inside the open-air courtyard or walked up the wrought-iron spiral staircase. Everything from the massive hanging plants to the tile floors gave out the message that businesses in the complex were in solid financial positions.
Michon wrinkled up her nose as she thought about her casual blouse and ran a nervous finger through her hair, but she’d come too far, had too much at stake to back down now.
A receptionist in the outer office looked up with an artificial smile as Michon closed the door behind her. “Is April in?” Michon asked, quickly taking in the expensive oak desk the slim receptionist was sitting behind.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” Michon admitted and then took a breath to calm herself. “I’d like to talk to her about a mutual acquaintance, Chas Carson.”
The receptionist gave Michon a dubious look, but got up and walked toward the closed door Michon had already guessed belonged to the firm’s senior partner. It bothered Michon that the woman didn’t use an intercom. She could imagine the cool woman informing her boss that some little creature was asking to take up her precious time. Michon could only hope that Chas’s name would open the door.
A minute later the receptionist reappeared and held the door for Michon. “She can see you now. She has an appointment soon, so I hope your business can be conducted in a few minutes.”
Of course, you icy robot, Michon thought and marched past the woman.
As soon as Michon saw April she realized she should have prepared herself better for the meeting. Because April was sitting she couldn’t decide how tall she was, but the long arms resting comfortably on the expensive desk belonged to a woman at least five inches taller than Michon. The face was flawlessly made up, but the eyes were without animation. April wore a gray suit with a black-and-white striped blouse underneath that ended in a trim collar around her long neck. Michon admitted that she never had had the knack to lift her hair away from her face like that, with curls that had to be held in place with a liberal application of hair spray.
April didn’t stand as Michon entered the room. Instead she inclined her head in the direction of a chair. “You know Chas?” she asked in husky tones, lips barely moving.
“I’m not sure that’s the right word,” Michon supplied. She supposed she should start off cautiously, but there was so much to learn and so little time. “I want to be honest with you. I don’t know what happened between you and Chas. I’m not sure I want to know. But it made a deep impression on him. I tried to get past that point, but it hasn’t worked.”
“Are you lovers?”
Michon shied, shocked by the bold question. “Why do you ask?” she countered.
For the first time April smiled slightly. As she did, her eyes showed life. “Good for you. I had no right asking.” She laced her long fingers together on the immaculate desk. “After everything that’s happened, I have no right feeling possessive about Chas. That ended a long time ago. What did you want to talk about?”
Michon took a deep breath. Quickly she told April how she’d met Chas and ended up on the John Day with him. “No matter what we were doing, or talking about, your name kept coming up. I’ll be honest with you. I felt as if I was battling a ghost. I lost. I have to know why.”
“He still cares?” Something, sadness maybe, flickered briefly in April’s eyes. “There aren’t many men like Chas in this world. He didn’t come out of a mold.” She smiled again. “That’s what attracted me to him. Actually Chas came to me because he wanted an appraisal of some land he was interested in. The deal fell through, but he came back to see me. We started dating. We were in love before I started facing the differences between us.”
“You mean in your life-styles?” Michon asked, her eyes flickering around the room.
“That’s part of it. Chas isn’t made for the city. If you know him as well as I think you do, you know what I mean. But the differences go deeper than that.” April leaned back in her chair and wrapped her arms behind her neck. “I hope I don’t sound as if I’m blowing my horn, but I’ve accomplished a great deal with my life. I wanted to prove that a woman could do everything a man could. I command some respect in this town.”
“Chas didn’t like that?” Michon couldn’t believe that Chas would feel threatened by any woman’s success.
“Not the way you’re thinking,” April explained. “Chas is too much of a gentleman to say it, but I know he never understood my drive. Money doesn’t mean much to him, although he does well for himself. For Chas, money is what you need when your pickup has a flat. The money I have in my checking and savings accounts is my security. It tells me that I’ve arrived.”
“I still don’t understand,” Michon pressed. “Having a different attitude toward money and success can destroy a romance. But with Chas it goes deeper than that. I can feel it, but I don’t know what it is.”
“You aren’t going to give up, are you?” There was nothing accusing in April’s voice. Rather Michon had the feeling that the conversation was having a cleansing effect on April. “I told you that we’d fallen in love. Michon, there were times when I looked at Chas and honestly believed I could give up everything for him. I had myself half-convinced that all I had to do was make more of an effort to know everything there was to know about his way of life. That’s why I asked him to take me on the John Day with some of his friends.” Something dark settled in April’s eyes. “I’d been to his home, seen him at work. I thought I knew what I was getting into.”
“I probably have no business telling you this, but Chas said some things about the trip. It wasn’t your cup of tea, was it?” Michon asked as tactfully as she could.
April laughed. “That’s putting it mildly. I can’t tell you how much I missed my bed, a hot bath, clean clothes! I suppose I could have put up with it if I thought I’d never be asked to trek the wilderness again. But I knew that if Chas and I got married I’d be expected to be part of his world.” April shuddered. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go on pretending I was cut out for the rugged life. This is where I belong. I’m city born and raised. I don’t want to change.”
“Chas can’t change either,” Michon whispered. Her thoughts had gone
back to a night in an aging cabin. “You can’t bring him into this kind of life.”
“I know.” April’s voice was as quiet as Michon’s. “I wouldn’t try. You can’t put a wild animal in a cage and expect it to thrive. I’d never do that to Chas.”
Suddenly April’s shoulders squared. “I think I saw the end coming before he did. If there’s one thing I am it’s practical. I loved Chas. I just couldn’t live with him. There was no reason to prolong the pain. There was just one little thing that made the breaking up harder than it should have been.”
Michon shook her head as if trying to free it of lingering cobwebs. “He’s so bitter. That isn’t like Chas.”
“He has reason.” April got to her feet and paced to the window overlooking the parking lot. “We—I said things I shouldn’t have when we broke up. I didn’t handle it well at all.”
Michon wondered if she should tell April that those details were none of her business, but she didn’t. Her future hinged on a full understanding.
“I can’t believe how cruel I was,” April said, her back still to Michon. “But you have to understand that I was hurting too. I pointed out the difference in our life-styles. I told Chas that I was a levelheaded businesswoman, while he was acting like a little boy. I told him it was time he grew up.”
A searing bolt of electricity surged through Michon. Grow Up. Those were the words she’d spoken during both their arguments. “Is that what you thought?” she managed. “Did you think he was a little boy?”
“No. Oh, what does it matter? It killed his feelings for me. That’s the only thing that matters now.” April turned around. Her face had come alive, revealing a lingering pain Michon was sure April hid from the world.
Slowly Michon got to her feet. “I understand,” she whispered. “April, thank you for your time.”
She’d almost reached the door when April spoke. “No. You don’t understand everything. I called him immature another time. The last time. I thought I’d put all that behind me!”
