A Breath Until Forever (10 page)

Joshua cloaked any kind of feelings he had with Meredith with going back to chores, a cattle got away and he raced after it, chasing the cattle very much like Meredith had gone on chasing the light.

Meredith headed for the small railroad bridge that connected two different lands. She raced after a rainbow, that heeded bright full of arched form and color as it began to chase away the last of the raindrop dew from the sky. The bridge was now anchored in a valley full of mist now, and Meredith couldn't help but feel how mysterious and breathtaking such a place could be. But the mist soon evaporated and disappeared as mysteriously as it had appeared.  The sun was big now, and wide, planting itself in the upper left hand position of the violet filled field, placing a huge light to strongly bathe the bridge with brilliance. This was the vertical shot of glamor that she had been looking for. Meredith watched casually as a family of Amish pulled their buggy along the road. She grinned. She had always taken a strong liking to the Amish, and sometimes had been jealous of them. To go off the grid, to escape from electricity and the conditioning of the world was something that appealed to her greatly.

She folded up her easel at 6:30 pm and she felt good about her . This morning she had painted the never ending streams of Thunder Valley, and this evening she had the chance to paint the sun at its most heightened. It was something she was proud of capturing. She would finish the painting back at the motel, and burn the midnight oil so that she may get them done. The Amish might even be one subject matter that Mr. Cambria may have been looking for, however, Meredith thought against it as it probably would be too country for such a regal luxury fleet of hotels, and thought that the assignment of bringing back the homogenous society may wreak havoc on both her reputation and her bank book. She wouldn't make the same mistake twice, like she had done in South America. Painting the simplistic of society. The Amish weren't clearly as mishandled, however they still didn't have the luxuries that the American dream lavished and so equally could be compared upon the brush stroke where the interpretation of the viewer proclaimed in strength.

She emptied all the tubes of her paint and now needed more. She wondered where the closest art supply store was, and hoped it wasn't very far away.

She sat and muddy boots went barefoot – step on something sharp. “Damn it!” blood trickled knew she had a few band aids in her backpack went to go get it to her surprise she found a note. She caste it out,  and it read. “I would like to have dinner with you and Shakespeare, please come. Please do not allow me to dine alone and repeat Shakespeare as he so eloquently wrote, “The Lady Doth Protest Too much, me thinks.” 

Meredith couldn't help but smile. She was elated with the effort that Joshua made. In a few minutes he was back in town.

She pulled into the Esso Gas Station. She filled her tank. She bought herself another pack of cigarettes and a strong flavored beef jerky. She used a pay telephone at the station. The phone book was slender and lacked the multiplications of numbers that Seattle had, and it was grimy from the many exchanges of the many local farm hands and mechanics.  There was a listing J. and A. Aspen. That must have been it.

Meredith dialed the phone. A loud
brrrrrring
rang in the living room. Joshua was splitting wood when he heard it. He caught it at the ending 8
th
ring when Meredith was just getting ready to hang it up.

“Yeah?” He gruffly answered with the most masculine tone that could ever resonate from his throat. He didn't like callers. Lately bill collectors had been calling him relentlessly, and so he automatically thought it was another phone call from them, and they were never welcome into his home, even if it was over telephone wires.

“Hi...hi..Joshua.” Meredith was a little nervous, startled that he had so abrasively answered the phone with such an unpleasant voice.

Meredith's insides twisted. A small invisible knife speared through her stomach.

“Your such a sneaky devil, aren’t you?” Meredith giggled a little. “I accept, but it's going to have to be letter. The weather is really good, cooperative and the sun is shooting the sky with its glow, a painter's dream.”

“That's fine.”

“Don't you have to work or anything? I mean I understand if you have to.”

“No, took the day off, two days off actually.”

“Anything wrong?”

“The ranch, I need to catch up on it.” He absolutely lied, but the truth was in there somewhere.

“Where you heading now?”

“Up Cary Parkway and back to the motel.  It might not be like 9 before I’m finished or at least have a good start on it. Is that okay?”
 

No, it wasn't okay, absolutely not, as he didn't want to wait that long but he only said something to appease her as to not scare her away. “Yeah, that's fine. Get your work done, that's what is foremost for you. I'll fix something right before you come so that its warm and good.”

Joshua had no idea what he was going to fix for dinner. It had been quite some time since he had the company of a beautiful woman over for dinner. He had invited her without thinking what on earth he would make. He wasn't hungry for food, he was hungry for her.

Meredith feeling rather warmed up to start adding company to her road trip, added “If you want to stop by while I'm painting, you know have a look at what I do, that's okay if you want. You could stop by like 3:30 or so.”

Joshua wanted to go with her, but what if someone saw him with her? Everyone around here knew that he had been with Adrienne but even though she was dead and gone, buried at the cemetery up in there was still an attachment that made him not quite a bachelor yet. If everyone found out they may no longer buy his cattle and he would be ostracized especially carrying on with a an older married woman. Local folk weren't too overly keen about stuff like that.

A debilitated bridge sat 20 yards away upstream from her as she spoke to Joshua, and parallel to the new Highway and it's paved asphalt hell. Meredith kept looking at it inquisitively, knowing for a fact that wasn't a good view that Mr. Cambria had wanted. He didn't want the new Thunder Valley, which was becoming more industrialized and busy, he wanted the old Thunder Valley, which was full of beautiful oak trees and the sifting jungles of wildflowers and the happiness of a very friendly sun.

Joshua decided that he rather be with a beautiful woman than stay back and dirty his hands with poo and mud. “Ok, I’ll come up, but ill drive separate in case that meet you there, what time would you like me

“
About 3ish? I'll see you then Joshua, and thanks for inviting me for dinner, I can't wait.”

Meredith spent the rest of her day at a small art gallery looking at local artists and their eclectic country style.  It was called the Winwest Gallery.  These artists weren't half way as good as her, quite the amateurs, but she was impressed with some that seemed to acquire good context on the canvas and wondered if there were art classes taught here. She thought mildly how nice it would be to escape from the city for awhile, and live in a small town such as this and teach art classes to those who aren't looking to get paid for their work, but feel that sense of pride that overwhelms you after the picture is complete. She remembered those days in High School where she could paint when she wanted, whatever she wanted, and thought those were the best days ever as there was no pressure to paint, rather there was a freedom with her paintbrush that gave her a sense of value.

Thunder Valley was a pretty town, with a nice circle in the middle of the main square with a pretty ceramic fountain. Flocking’s of oak trees symmetrically marched up 1
st
street giving its main course linear attention.  Looking down this beautiful path of hearty foliage, she noticed a small cafe at the corner of the square. It was called “Laura's” And it looked very similar to the quaint cafes that she used to drink fancy coffees at. It had been such a long time since she had a fancy coffee, and so she decided to take a chance and see if Laura's could equal that of Seattle's best cafes. Laura's did impress Meredith, as it had her most favorite cup of fancy coffee which was the Italian macchiato. She complimented the machiatto with a ham and Swiss panini sandwich and a side order of kettle cooked potato chips. Who would have thought that a small little town 60 miles from the biggest city of Raleigh would have such a gourmet selection, but then she found out, through a pamphlet that was sitting on the counter top, leafing through it as she waited for her order, that Laura Piccleby was indeed from Raleigh, originally, and had moved to this small town in the year 1965 where she had resided ever since. Meredith quickly grew jealous that Laura Piccleby had such a luxury to leave the big city life behind her and start a fresh new life. But Laura probably didn't have a husband, nor a son, who would keep her behind like anchors. Meredith loved Seattle, but she had grown tired of it, and sometimes wished that she could trade it in for a smaller town with bigger heart. Seattle, as much as she loved it, had grown into an anarchist beast, with all of its new radical changes in identity, governing a municipality of slighted civility that spawned anti-war protests to range strong and forever.

When she had walked in the cafe and asked for her order it was a little after one o'clock in the afternoon. The animated conversation had stopped for a moment while they all looked Meredith over. Especially the woman, who mostly wore hate in their hearts, frowns on their leathery tan faces, and western cowgirl kind of wear that had a touch of urban flair with their satin handkerchiefs tied tightly around their crooning necks. She hated that eyes had gunned her down, and instantly felt self conscious and wondered why she had been a walking target. Was it because she was someone new? It had been rumored that Joshua had taken a liking to a pretty new stranger with long brown hair and a voluptuous frame. Who was she? What was she doing there? And what did she want with Joshua? They were all questions that swirled around the town like the cream in her machiatto. These people of all different ages, shapes, sizes, and colors, were all protective of Joshua as he grew up in that town. The older folk had known Joshua since he was a little baby, running around naked through the meadows of violets, up to where he grew through the school system, being a little hellion, riding calves, then grew into riding bulls at the local rodeo. They also knew that their past nemesis of Thunder Valley had hired a pretty, but older painter to paint their town to recollect memories, good memories of when he was here, even if he ran off on his wife and two kids in order to chase that greedy dream of America's fortune. They despised him for it, for sending in this painting minion to do his dirty work, while he couldn’t show his face here himself. They wondered why Mr. Cambria was so sentimental about Thunder Valley. Especially with the past history of abandonment. But after being here for a little while, Meredith could understand herself why he had, as even if it had its own imperfections, it was a beautiful country with bright colors, and had an easement about it that made you feel at home.

“They say she's married.”  Were some of the rumors that sped faster than lightening.

“Somebody said she's a painter for Mr. Cambria.” Were some of the other rumors that spread fast and rapid. 

“License plate on the jeep is out of state.” A pudgy woman with short poof balled hair snicked to an elderly woman who didn't have any teeth. She had noticed the 1959 Jeep parked outside the cafe, and along with it, a license plate that was out of place for this part of the world.

“From where?” A man who had been reading a newspaper from the breakfast bar where he had been casually drinking a cup of black coffee. He laid his paper down temporarily so that he may engage in this conversation.

“Washington.” The pudgy woman commented. “That's where it's from.”

“Out west?” The man with the newspaper commented. 

A waitress wearing a pink dress with a frilly apron, mid 50's, had her say too. “Far away from here.” 

“She been to the gallery over next door, she was looking at all our local paintings, criticizing them, I could see it in her eyes, that our locals were worse than her.” A very old woman who had stopped at the cafe for a bagel with cream cheese said. She was sitting at a corner table, near a window. She was wearing a floral housecoat, and had her hair wrapped up in a pink scarf, curlers in her hair hiding underneath. It hadn't been true, however, that Meredith had been criticizing the paintings, but being that nobody liked Meredith from the get to, even this woman, who took another bagel with spite as if she were a wild dog, view was distorted, and against Meredith.