I love Bobby, but the overbearing uncle attitude needs to go. She’s almost an adult and can make her own decisions. If I get there and she’s happy, fine. I’ll leave, but not after I’ve had my say.
“Thanks, Aunt Sue.” I get up and give her a kiss on the cheek. I feel her smile and hope that if Savannah and I are lucky enough to be together in the future, she’s soft and gentle like her aunt... although her aunt is really one in a million.
Savannah
Zach and I walk back to his hostel together under a cloud of darkness. We’re side by side but there is enough distance between us that everything is casual. He offered to walk me home, but I’m still a city girl through and through and know that it’s dangerous to let a stranger know where you live. Besides, if he’s in the right place at the right time, he’ll see me coming out the door. Definite drawback to living on the Champs de Elysees: You can’t hide from the tourists and according to Zach’s schedule he’ll be on my street in three days.
He complained, but I wouldn’t budge. I’m not the kind of girl who tells a guy she just met at the Eiffel Tower where she lives. In my romance novel, it sounds great. In the crime report, it’s an act of stupidity.
We stayed on the second floor of the tower, exploring each side of Paris together. It’s nice that he lives by the same map I do, although I wish it were a year from now and I were meeting him, or someone similar, so I could be a proper host. It makes me wonder if Tyler will visit, or if the only time I’ll see him again is if I go back to Texas. I’m not sure I can. I’ve wanted Paris for so long I feel as if I have to make it work.
I haven’t really enjoyed being here before as I much as I have today. It was good to laugh and even cry a little at some of the jokes Zach was telling. But each emotion brought back a memory of Tyler and I often found myself comparing him to Zach. Would Tyler let me drag him around from museum to museum? Would he want to walk along the Seine and over the aptly named Love Locks Bridge and see the few padlocks that remain? Or would he only want to spend his time here out in the country, looking at the vast green pastures and learning how people farm here?
Tyler is a wild horse in my life or maybe I’m the free spirit that can’t be tamed in his. I know he’d be there for me, but I’m not sure our lifestyles can blend. After seeing the lights of Paris for this past month, watching the people as they rush from place to place, and listening to the cars at night – the city is what I love. It tells a story, the people are its chapters. The country is nice for a break, but I’m not sure it’ll ever measure up to what I’m seeing now.
By the time we reach the third floor the sun has set and just like every other night in Paris, wedding proposals are being made. People clap, cheer and offer well wishes to the soon-to-be betrothed. Zach and I make it a game. Walking around pointing at which couple we think will be next. It’s very hit or miss, but an overall enjoyment for our evening. Of course we get more wrong than right, but we aren’t really counting.
Zach thanks me when we stop at the hostel. It’s that awkward we-just-met-should-I-give-you-a-hug-or-give-you-my-number moment. He opts for the hug, pulling me into his muscular arms, which only serve to remind me of Tyler. I should call him when I get home, but that means stopping at the corner store and buying a phone card. And the fact that I’m making up excuses or reasons why we shouldn’t talk is stupid and a complete eye opener. If he wanted to be with me, he would’ve asked me to stay, right? I pat Zach on the back and he lets go. “Are you sure you’re okay to walk home? I’m having a hard time letting you go on your own. It’s dangerous out there.”
I look up and down the street and shrug. “I’ll be fine.”
He nods, but the frown he has doesn’t dissipate. “Here’s my number,” he says as he pulls my hand out and writes it on my forearm. Smart, this way the sweat on my palms won’t make the ink wash off.
I agree and tell him that I’ll see him bright and early for our countryside train ride. The novel that I was planning on reading tomorrow will just have to wait.
“It was very nice meeting you Zach.” I walk away before he can say anything and I definitely don’t turn around to see if he’s watching me. It’s killing me not to, but it’s far too soon for anything like that, plus my head is in a fog. If anything, Zach will be a fun companion until his journey is over and he’s back doing whatever it is that he does.
As soon as I’m home with the doors locked, I pull out my phone and text him. The conversation bubble pops up immediately. I can’t help but smile at the thought that he was waiting for me. Either that or he was texting his friends back home and I just interrupted. Regardless, he tells me good night and that he’s excited for tomorrow.
That makes two of us.
I stop at the café on the corner and order the same thing I do every day, black coffee with milk and sugar... a lot of sugar. Each time I order it, the barista gives me a strange look. It’s almost as if they’re confused on how to just pour a cup of coffee and simply add milk and sugar instead of adding nine other things to it. As soon as the hot paper cup is in my hand, I’m out the door and heading toward Zach’s hostel. I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but everyone in Paris is and I don’t want to stand out. I even sit and drink it out of tiny cups with my pinky in the air. It’s something everyone should do when they’re in Paris.
It doesn’t take me long to reach the hostel and when I get there, Zach is standing outside with his foot resting against the wall. Tyler sometimes stands like that. Thoughts of Tyler cause me to stop short and focus on a leaf that is mindlessly swirling on the ground. Everything reminds me of Tyler and I know that’s the way it should be, but each moment is painful. I don’t want to live like that.
“Good morning,” Zach says, breaking my reverie. “Did you bring me one?”
“What?” I look at him, confused, and see that he’s pointing to my cup of coffee. It dawns on me that I should’ve grabbed him one or at least texted and ask if he’d like something to drink. “Oh, um… I thought with you being in the service you didn’t drink coffee.” I’m not exactly quick on my feet, but at least it’s something.
Zach laughs and takes the cup from my hand, taking sip. His face scrunches and pushes the cup back into my hands. “I think I’m thankful you didn’t bring me a cup. What is that shit?”
“It’s my coffee.” I laugh and take a sip, not minding the sugar loaded warm breakfast.
“No,” he says shaking his head. “That’s warm Red Bull on crack. You’re in Paris. You’re supposed to drink espresso and Frappuccino’s.”
“Zach, I think you mean I’m supposed to drink the coffee black because in Paris, coffee is like a fine art. Come on, we have a train to catch.” I bump his shoulder as I pass by him, heading toward the station.
The train station is busy, but not overly crowded. Zach beats me to the counter and buys our tickets. I try to give him the money, but he’s ignoring me, pretending like he can’t hear me even though he’s smiling. I give up and decide to show him on the large map where we’re going today. I point to Vouzeron and drag my finger back to Paris. I don’t know what’s there, but I’ve put it on my list of towns to check out.
The public address system announces the train for Chantilly and people rush to the platform.
“Is that our train?” he asks.
“No, it’s going in the wrong direction.” I show Zach on the map. As soon as my finger points to Chantilly, he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the platform. Before I can ask what’s going on, we’re on the train, sitting side by side and laughing.
“What’s going on?”
He looks around the train with a smile spread across his face. Today his hat is on backwards, but his overall appearance is still the same as yesterday.
“One of the guys at the hostel told me about Chantilly and said that girls really dig it. He said that there’s mansions, flowers and some other girly shit so I thought we’d check it out.”
“We’re in France,” I remind him. “There are
mansions everywhere. I believe each town has at least one.”
“There’s also the song. My mom loved that song.”
“Loved?” I question.
“She died about ten years ago, cancer. Chantilly is on my list and I’d like to see it with you.”
How can I say no? I can’t, which is why I sit back in my seat and squeeze his hand. I should let go, but it feels good to hold his hand.
Tyler
Taking Jeremiah with me to Austin was a mistake. He’s like a kid in a candy store, except the adult version. Rivers Crossing is small and definitely behind the times. You won’t find a shopping mall, strip mall, chain restaurants or nudie bars. What you do find is good, wholesome cooking, friendly people and land so vast that you can see for miles. In Rivers Crossing, the people are gracious, humble and your best friends within five minutes, unlike the bigger cities. I’m biased, I know.
As I drive around, going from block to block looking for an address that doesn’t seem to exist, all I see are food carts and lines of people. Even with my stomach growling it’s not enough for me to stop, although I’m half-tempted to because the smells of what’s sure to be delicious foods are killing me.
As luck would have it, I’m lost. Aunt Sue worked the phones and the general store like a pro on how to get a passport. When she told me that it’d take six weeks I wanted to kick my ass for waiting so long. It’d be well into two months that Savannah has been gone by the time I could get a little book that allows me to fly over the ocean. But Della told me that you could pay a little extra and get one quicker so that’s why I’m in Austin.
What Della didn’t tell me was I needed a picture and the lady at the courthouse wasn’t too forthcoming with how to find someone who took instant pictures for my application. Hence me being lost in what I’m gathering ain’t a great part of town. Jeremiah thinks it’s great, though, as he hangs his head out the window yelling yee-haw at people on the street. Right now he’s waggling his tongue at the aforementioned nudie bar, which is apparently where he wants to have lunch. I don’t know if I should go to the bar or leave Jeremiah there. One decision is surely going to get me in hot water while the other gives me the time I need to get my stuff done. This could be a moment that we look back on in ten years or so and laugh. Depends on if I get the girl or not.
With my pictures, birth certificate, application and checks in hand I stand in line and wait. Who knew getting an emergency passport would be so popular? I didn’t, but I also never planned on leaving the country. Savannah’s worth it though. I know she’s too young to make a commitment like getting married, but just having her here is worth the trip to France. I can’t see my life without her in it, even if she’s just a neighbor. Thing is, I’m not sure Rivers Crossing is for her and I don’t know if the city is for me. My momma said part of being in love is compromise, finding a happy medium for the both of us. I don’t know what that would be considering our worlds are vastly different.
Maybe I shouldn’t be going after her. I’ve just about cleaned out my savings to buy a ticket. What if she rejects me? Or has already moved on with some beret wearing French dude? I look down at the paperwork in my hand and sigh. Am I wasting my time?
“You tell her you’re coming yet?”
“No,” I say with a frown. “Aunt Sue has her address, and she thought it would be ‘knight in shining armor’ of me to just show up with roses in my hand.”
“What if she doesn’t need to be saved?”
I glance at Jeremiah and wonder when he became the voice of reason. I’m next in line and starting to sweat, second-guessing what it is that I’m doing. My trip could be futile, or she could come back with me. That’s what I want: Savannah back in Texas and living at the ranch. I know that makes me selfish, but she was taken from me once before and I don’t want to lose her again.
The lady in front of me is done and now it’s my turn. Jeremiah is rocking on the heels of his cowboy boots wondering what I’m going to do. The clerk looks at me, her eyebrows raised and her back hunched. She’s already tired from her job of processing applications and I’m holding her up. Stepping forward, it’s do or die for me. Jeremiah pats me on the back. I’m not sure if that’s encouragement or his way of telling me to get the hell out of here. It’s a crap shoot. I know this. She either comes home, or she doesn’t. And there’s only one way to find out.
My application is stamped, and re-stamped. I’m sure the clerk has worked here long enough that she doesn’t have to read or check them. Or maybe she just takes them and some other, higher paid person processes them.
“Seven days,” she says without making eye contact and bellowing out, “next.” That’s it. I know nothing more or nothing less.
The walk back to the truck is met with Jeremiah going on about something irrelevant to my plight. He means well, but he doesn’t get it. He’s the guy that refuses to date a girl more than once, even though he’s met plenty of upstanding women in his day. Hell, a few of them I’d date if I weren’t hung up on a striking blonde who took my heart to Paris with her a month ago.
Getting involved was a mistake. I know this. But it happened and now I’m dealing with the consequences. If her mother hadn’t sent her away early, she’d just be getting ready to leave now. I would’ve used the time given to us wisely and showed her how much Texas means to her. Show her she belongs here and not in some ritzy country where she doesn’t speak the language. Make her see I can offer her everything, even when I know in order to do that I have to make a change. Living in a small house on borrowed land isn’t what Savannah wants for a future.
I need to be enough for her to want to come home. I’m all I have to offer and even I know it won’t be enough.
I’m not happy. Bobby isn’t happy. Neither is Jeremiah, but he’ll get over it. Bobby on the other hand is ignoring me and barking out orders. I know he’s pissed I took the day off to go to Austin. I work six days a week. I’ve only been sick once and am about to take a vacation. Most employers offer time off in addition to sick time. This is something we were taught in my business class. Bobby is all about business and making sure the ranch is running. I get that. I also get that I shouldn’t have taken Jeremiah with me.
We have other employees, but Bobby forgets that. The ranch is being taken care of, but I’m not here to solve all the problems so he can just work. Jeremiah is going to have to step up his game when I’m gone, otherwise I may not have a job to come back to.
Bobby is gruff. He’s a hard worker, but needs to slow down. It’s why I went to school, so I can take over the ranch. He just hasn’t been willing to let go yet. Maybe that’s a good thing considering I’m flying across the world to chase a girl who may not want to be chased.
Orders are barked as soon as Jeremiah and I enter the barn. Tools are being slammed around and curse words muttered. Aunt Sue doesn’t like it when we swear, so we try not to, but Bobby doesn’t care about that right now. He tells me that the crew on the back forty are hours behind and I need to head out there to find out what’s going on. So I do. I have no desire to sit around and be on the receiving end of his death glare.
Being alone in my head is the last thing I need right now, though. All I seem to be able to do is run through all possible scenarios of what could happen when I get to Paris, driving myself crazy. Will she jump in my arms when she sees me? Ask me what I’m doing there? Tell me to go home? It’s shitty that out of everything I can think of, I only have one positive thought. I wasn’t like this with Annamae and she and I were together a hell of a lot longer than I was with Savannah. Hell, Savvy and I aren’t even together. We spent a month making out and a moment having sex by the pond.
The girl is wicked. It’s the only way to sum up what I’m feeling. She has a hold on me and I can’t seem to break it. I don’t remember feeling like this when she left the first time. I know I moped around the house a bit, but I never asked to go to New York and get her. Probably because I knew she was coming back, or she was supposed to. Each
summer Savannah was supposed to come home, but never did. Her mother just left us all behind for her fancy job in the big city and forgot about us.
When I reach the land the other crew is working I can see what Bobby is talking about. The field was mowed days ago and ready for haying this morning, but only one-third of it is done. The guys stop working when they see me pull up in my truck. It’s not break time, but they seem to think it is.
I’m angry and frustrated as I slam the door and stalk over to where they’re now sitting in the shade.
“Y’all have two hours to finish this field. The bales need to be back to the barn before quitting time.”
“It’s too hot,” one of them says. There are only a few full-time employees; the others come in daily looking for work. Unfortunately, none of my full-timers are in this crew of five. Bad planning on my part and I’ll be here all night making sure the job is done because of it.
“Move to Alaska,” I say to the group, not caring who is belly aching as I turn away from them. When you live in Texas, it’s warm, hot or too hot. You get used to it.
One of them says something about quitting and that’s enough for me to lose my cool. I turn back around and look each of them in the eye. Not a single one of them pipes up now and not a single one of them cares.
“You’re done for the day. Pay will be ready at five. If you want to get paid, be at the gate.”
There’s moaning and groaning, inappropriate language being spread around, but I don’t care. I hop in the tractor and start getting the job done.
My ticket for France is non-refundable. If I don’t go, I lose the money. If I go, I could lose the girl. It’s a no win situation and a classic example of thinking with my heart and not my head. Someday, logic will win out, but not today.
Savannah
Last night I dreamt of Tyler. We were sitting in the back of his truck watching the sunset at the beach. His friends were there too, but he and I were lost in our own world. As night fell, he held me under the stars, keeping me warm even though it was still blazing hot outside.
The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire Page 11
