The Farmer and the Actress

"Hello Chet; may I have your permission to ask Miss Arrington to dance a polka with me?"

"John, you have my permission to ask but the decision about the dance is hers to make."

So eleven year old John Applewhite stepped two feet to his left and addressed Rachel, "Um Miss Arrington, I am John Applewhite and may I dance this polka with you?"

Rachel looked at Chet with a big grin and then back at John. "Well Mister John Applewhite, thank you for asking. I have watched you dance several times and you are very good. It has been a long time since I danced a polka and I might be rusty but I would be pleased to dance a polka with you." She stood up and although she was a four inches taller than he was he took her elbow and led her to the dance floor. It took a few minutes for Rachel to adjust her step to fit his but then they were boot scooting around the floor matching any of the other dancers both young and old.

When the song ended, John escorted Rachel back to her seat and bowed at the waist. "Thank you Miss Arrington, I enjoyed the dance very much."

"Thank you John, I enjoyed it too." He turned and went back to a table near theirs and sat down next to his mother before he let the excitement inside him break loose. She seemed to share the excitement with him. All of the ladies at our table congratulated Rachel on how well she danced but no one teased her about dancing with young John.

Later, Rachel went to the ladies room and came back with huge smile on her face. "You have some competition buddy."

"Oh yeah, who?"

"I met John's mother in the ladies room and she told me that he wanted to dance with me because I was the most beautiful girl here tonight. She had to encourage him for twenty minutes before he would come over and ask me. So there."

"An old man can never compete with the young turks, I guess."

"Oh yeah; well old man take me to the dance floor; this slow song is one of my favorites."

He did as asked and she melted into his arms like they had been doing this for a long time. As they moved, she whispered in his ear, "Are we going to the barbeque tomorrow? I was told to tell you to bring me or you wouldn't be welcome."

"That means I have to get up at dawn to marinate the ribs and then cook them almost done. Then we have to take them over there and finish them on their grill. It is so much work for an old man. It would be easier if a young and beautiful woman would help me."

"Asshole. The next time you call yourself an old man, I am going to pop you on the ass; maybe more than once. I told her we would be there when you had the ribs ready."

"Things are going to start breaking up soon. Most of the families will be leaving so they can get the kids to bed. They will have to get up for church in the morning. Do you want to stay longer or are you danced out?"

"Chet, I am getting a little tired but I don't think I would get tired of dancing with you at all."

"Then let's call it an evening. I'll put the ribs in the marinade tonight and we won't have to worry about them until late morning."

"I like that idea." She kissed his cheek and laid her head back on his shoulder until the end of the song. Then they held hands and went to say their good nights to the neighbors.

As they drove home, she laid her head back in the seat and closed her eyes. Chet reached over and pulled her down so that she could lie down and put her head on his lap. She offered no resistance. When he pulled into the driveway, she was sound asleep. He carefully lifted her out of the truck and carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He bent and took her new boots off but was afraid to try to remove any more. Then he took Goldie out but she ran in and joined Rachel on the bed.

Chet went into the kitchen put the ribs in a big pan and poured his homemade marinade over them before putting the pan in the refrigerator. He felt tired but also a little restless and wasn't ready to go to sleep, so he opened his computer and worked on his project. Somewhere along the line, he laid back and fell asleep. Fortunately, the screen saver kicked in because that was how Rachel found him in the morning with the screen blank and showing nothing that she could see.

Waking up was kind of like a dream. Chet felt that he was dancing on air with Rachel when she kissed him. But the kiss was real. He opened his eyes and she was gently kissing his lips with a hand on his shoulder.

"Good morning sleepy head. Why didn't you go to bed?"

"I decided to sit for awhile and I guess I fell asleep."

"I take it that you carried me to bed and took off my boots. You could have undressed me further if you wanted to."

"I thought that it would be inappropriate. I hope you weren't too uncomfortable."

"I woke up sometime and undressed. I slept fine. Do we need to marinate the ribs?"

"No, I put them in last night. I'll get moving and start breakfast for us."

"No. You relax or take a shower. I'll do breakfast. So far, you have done all the work and I feel kind of useless."

"You are many things but useless isn't one of them. I'll go take a shower and clean up." An hour later he emerged shaven and clean. Rachel was putting their breakfasts on the plates and it smelled wonderful.

"Do you hire out? I could use a good cook. This smells wonderful."

"Don't hold your breath about hiring me. This is the only thing I cook that I will eat. You would get bored fast."

"Either you are too hard on yourself or you have no faith in me." He replied

"Ha! Wait until you have had omelets for five meals in a row. You will kill for a plate of pancakes."

"No I wouldn't, I'd make them for you or we would go eat out. Faith, dear, faith."

"I have faith that you would get tired of cooking for me. Now, sit, eat, and don't offer any comments."

Chet did as he was told and discovered that she made a great omelet. The truth was that if this was the only thing she cooked, he would be happy because that was not what he was most intrigued about.

They took a cup of coffee to the living room when they finished eating. As they sat down, Rachel's cell phone rang.

"Hello." She listened. "Yes? Hold on, let me check." She turned to Chet and said, "It is the car rental company and they have a replacement for me but they can't deliver it until tomorrow unless I can come get it today. What do you think?"

"Unless you are desperate to get away from here, I'll take you up tomorrow morning since I have to go anyway. I need to be at my thing by nine."

"I'll pick it up tomorrow morning. What location?" "He says Love Field."

"Tell him that you will be there at eight thirty."

"I'll be there at eight thirty. Thanks." She hung up. "Now you, does it look like I want to run away and leave today?"

"I don't know; you have that shifty look about you like you are ready to spring."

"Shifty Look? Since when have I ever looked shifty to you?"

"Last night when we were dancing, I looked down and thought you were looking for an escape route."

"Put your damn coffee cup down, Mister. I'll show you about escape routes." She stood and walked over and sat in his lap. "Now, see if you can escape?"

"I don't want to escape but in about two minutes you are probably going to want to."

"Why is that?" She settled down. "Put your arm around me." He did.

"Wait two minutes and you will see or rather feel."

"Mr. McAdams, are you suggesting something irregular?"

"I don't know what you call it in California but here we call it a normal reaction to a beautiful woman."

"But I am here in a robe, my hair is a mess, my makeup is non-existent, and I spilled some of my omelet on my front and you want to call that beautiful?"

"You must be hanging around some weird people; a woman is beautiful because of what is on the inside not the outside. The outside is just bait."

"Bait?"

'Yes, throw a fish hook in the water and nothing happens; put a worm or some peanut butter on it and you too can have fried catfish for dinner. Bait."

"So a woman who wears makeup and nice clothes and has her hair done is just trolling for catfish?"

"No silly, she is just hiding behind a mask so that the man can't see her inner beauty."

Rachel just sat there stunned for a moment. "Do you really believe what you just said?"

"No, but I got your juices flowing didn't I. You damn sure got mine going."

She turned towards him with her nostrils flaring and fire in her eyes. "You are either the biggest bullshit artist I have ever met or the best man on the planet. Which one are you?"

He leaned forward and kissed her lips and replied, "That is for me to know and you to find out." That was the first time she tried to strangle him but not the last. Of course her idea of strangling lasted less than a minute and that was followed by laughter and a big hug. At least she didn't try to escape because she now had every reason to.

"What time do we need to go over there?"

"Well the hosts are Methodists, I think."

"What does that mean?"

"Oh, around here you can assume that if they are Catholic, they go to early Mass; the Methodists go later, but are out by noon. The Baptists however, have a preacher who can't seem to give a sermon that lasts less than two hours; God bless his soul. So if you are going to a Baptist family, you better wait until two or three. So today, we can go anytime after noon and the Catholics and Methodists will be there, but the Baptists will straggle in sometime later."

"Are you pulling my leg?"

"No.....but I will if you want me to."

"And I thought people in California were weird. Here the most normal person I have met grows tomatoes and gives them away, plans his day based on which church service people go to, and tries to intimidate poor innocent girls with his good old boy nature."

"Ok and the problem is?"

"You are a goofball." She leaned forward and gave him a kiss that was more than a friendly kiss and less than a passionate one. At that moment, it was good that she couldn't read his mind. "And, if these people are Methodists, I better go clean up and dress so we can go put your ribs on the grill."

"See; I knew that you were going to try to escape."

"See; that was my plan the whole time." She stuck her tongue out at him and he swatted her butt as she stood up so he felt like he gave as good as he got.

An hour and a half later, Chet was putting the ribs on one of the three grills at his neighbor's house. A beer magically appeared at his side and Rachel was invited to sit with a group of the women who began the subtle grilling that is usual when a new woman dares to enter into the other women's home turf. For a moment, Chet was worried for Rachel's sake but after her first comment, the other women broke out in gales of laughter. He suspected that he was the subject of the comment and that he probably didn't want to know what it was. He also decided that Rachel could take care of herself and turned his attention to the guys who also began their not so subtle grilling about this new woman in his life. His truthful answers were met with audible acknowledgement and visual disbelief. "So much for telling the truth," he said to himself. He also knew that by the time they went home, at least three of the guys would be wishing that they could be sleeping in his bed that night and at least three of the women would be planning their wedding.

As he had told Rachel, the Baptists began arriving around 2:00 bemoaning the fact that the sermon went overtime. Thankfully, the hot dogs and burgers were ready so that the kids would stop whining about being hungry and could then play and leave the adults in peace.

Jeff, the young waiter from the restaurant, arrived with his girl friend who immediately attached herself to Rachel as her new best friend and began pumping her for information on how to make a name for herself in Hollywood. Chet could see the look of distress on Rachel's face and was about to try to throw her a lifeline when he saw that something that she said registered with the young woman and the level of the discussion softened to a level where Rachel relaxed more and more. He was also needed to administer the final look at the ribs and declare them either done, about done, or inedible. He finally suggested about fifteen more minutes with a little more smoke. More damp chips were added to the fire and various people began salivating at the prospect of the ribs being done.

At four, the women paid Rachel the ultimate sign of acceptance by inviting her to help them bring out the rest of the food and set the table. With a smile on her face, Rachel gladly joined in the sacred rite of community togetherness, the filling of every square inch of the table with green salads, various forms of potatoes, vegetables, drinks, bread and rolls along with condiments. The meat, of course, needed no space at the table as it was only available directly from the grills to keep it somewhere between warm and hot. This day, they had the ribs, chicken, burgers and hot dogs, several varieties of kebobs, sausages, and a large skillet of fajita meat. Even if a homeless family had wandered in, they would not leave hungry and would leave with a bag of leftovers for the next day. The meal officially ended around six thirty when the cobbler was served with coffee.

The evening ended as it should everywhere; if you came as a stranger or someone with a problem with a neighbor, you left as a friend with no problems with anyone. Rachel left after endless hugs and a dozen suggestions on how to keep Chet in line. He left with a dozen reminders about getting older and needing to watch his blood pressure plus three offers of little blue pills if he needed some help. Rachel thanked all her new found friends and he told all of his old friends to go take a cold shower. They loaded their fair share of the left over spoils of the day which included no ribs or fajita meat and only one chicken breast and a small container of sausage into the truck. If nothing else, country folk do know how to eat. They raise or grow it; they learn how to prepare it; and consuming it comes as no problem at all.

Rachel had a smile on her face the entire way home. As he parked in front of the house, she finally said something. "You know, Chet, you now have exactly no secrets from me and I know a dozen ways to keep you under control."

"If you believe that, I have a bridge in Brooklyn that I would like to sell. I was also told of no less than five ways to keep you from straying and hanging out in the local bars."

"Ha! Name one."

"It involved impregnating you soon and them keeping you pregnant for about five consecutive years."

"That figures. So is that what you want to do?"

"No; that isn't my style."

"Just what is your style, Chet McAdams?"

He knew that this was coming and he felt a rock developing in my stomach. Rachel could see his discomfort and softly added, "Forget I asked that; it wasn't fair. Let's go inside." She got out of the truck and carried the leftovers. He got out but the rock in his gut didn't go away because he really didn't have an answer to her question. The underlying feeling had been growing inside of him for two days and he still had no clear answer.

Goldie eagerly took off to find one or more of her secret places and Rachel put the bag on the table and began putting things in the refrigerator. Suddenly she turned around and looked at him and said, "Chet, please forgive me. I had no right to ask you that. We met two days ago and I owe you a lot for everything. You have shared your life and home with me. You owe me nothing. I was selfish for prying into your privacy."

"Rachel, you have done much more than you know or expect. For ten years, what you have seen has been my life. I haven't dated anyone; I keep to myself; I reach out to the community just so that I don't go crazy. In two days you have brought brightness into this dull life. I have joked and teased more in two days than I have done in ten years. I feel relaxed with you here. Tomorrow you are leaving and I assume going back to your life in California and I will come back here to an empty house and a loyal dog. I would be lying to you if I said I won't miss you. But your life is there and my life is here. Next week at market, twenty people are going to ask me when you are coming back. I will make up some answer but probably won't have the guts to tell them the truth that I doubt seriously if you will ever come back. You have no reason to come back. In a month or so, they will stop asking but not stop wondering and I will still not have an answer to your question. I will just plant some more onions and tomatoes and watch them grow. Then I will come in and feed Goldie and sit down and do what I do to hide the fact from myself that I am a lonely man; a very lonely man. Excuse me for a minute; I need to go for a walk. Make yourself at home."

Chet turned and walked out the front door and headed for his refuge, the garden. Goldie found him with her always ready smile, wagging tail, and an eagerness to go exploring. By the time he returned to the house, he had no more answers than he left with but was calmer and had once again accepted his status in life; she was leaving and he was staying and that was that. He didn't know what Rachel was thinking or doing while he was gone but then he had learned that she was every bit as capable as he had hoped that she would be. That thought gave him enough confidence that he knew that his previous decision was the right one. He sighed and went back inside.

Rachel was sitting on the sofa writing on her computer. She had a cup of coffee on the end table and there was one sitting next to the recliner. She looked up and pointed at the recliner and said "Sit." Then she went back to whatever she was writing. He sat in the chair while Goldie lay down in the space between the recliner and the sofa.

When she finished her writing, she either hit "send" or "save," he wasn't sure which. Then she closed her computer and set it aside. "Chet, thank you for opening up to me; I wasn't expecting that and I still don't know how to respond to what you said but rest assured, I remember every single word and I will respond to you soon. I have a meeting to go to tomorrow which may last all day. Tomorrow night, I have a reception to go to that may be good or intolerable depending on how the meetings go tomorrow. A friend of mine is coming in tomorrow afternoon for the reception and she and I are leaving on Tuesday on a two o'clock flight. If you are still in Dallas, Tuesday morning, I would like for you to meet her and spend the morning with us."

He sighed and then lied through his teeth, "I would love to but I need to be back here tomorrow night and I have something to do here Tuesday morning." He didn't tell her that he needed to start getting over her.

"Fine. I can't tell you when but I will be back here soon and we will talk more then. Is that all right with you?"

He caved in a little and replied, "Rachel, you are always welcome here. I don't lock the door so come on in even if I am not here. Goldie will be glad to see you again."

"Chet, will you be glad to see me again?"

He paused and then barely whispered, "Yes."

"That is all I need to know. Now I think we need to get some sleep if we need to leave by six."

"That is a good idea." Actually, he thought it was a terrible idea but it was the safest one he could think of. He doubted that he would sleep but he would take the computer with him and write to escape from his fears and dreams.

She stood up as he did and then walked to him and put her arms around his neck. "Chet McAdams, the demons that are following you do not exist. Let them go. I heard nothing but wonderful things about you today and they do not conflict with anything I have experienced. You are wonderful; start thinking about that side of you." Then she kissed him on his lips and went into the bedroom with Goldie at her heels. He stood still for several minutes before picking up the computer and going into the other bedroom.