The Frenchman's Slow Seduction (11 page)

Chapter 14

When six thirty rolls
around, I wake Michelle up. Since it’s my morning off, I go home to
work on conference notes instead of going to the clinic. It’s part
of my plan to avoid life as much as possible for the week.

At nine thirty, I leave
for Northcliff. When I walk into Verna’s room, a man quickly gets
up from his chair.

“Hello, dear,” Verna
says, standing up. “I’d like you to meet Syd. Syd, this is Rachel,
a friend who gives me advice on love.”

Syd is Verna’s age and
has a special look about him: the look of someone who’s happy in
life. Smiling, he shakes my hand. “Lovely to meet you, Rachel.” His
accent is pure New England. Dressed in a smart light-gray suit with
a white shirt and yellow tie, he looks divinely meant to be with
Verna. When I see that he’s wearing comfortable walking shoes, I
feel glad. An aesthete with a firm footing in reality, he will walk
amiably through life with Verna. “Do you advise men as well?” he
asks.

I laugh. “There’d be no
sense.”

“Why not?”

“The good ones don’t
need any help, and the bad ones would just use the information for
their own gain.”

Syd and Cathy look at
each other and then at me.

“You’ve obviously given
a lot of thought to matters of the heart,” Syd says.

“Verna makes a great
teacher.”

His gaze falls on
Verna. “I should have known. One of the master’s pupils. My
strategy is to wear Verna out with my persistence. No matter how
long it takes.”

Verna shakes her head.
“Let’s go for a walk.”

At the park, Syd and
Verna feed the pigeons while I walk among the trees. I can’t hear
what Syd is saying to Verna, but Verna spends a lot of time either
smiling or laughing. At one point, Syd faces her, takes her hand,
and kisses it.

On our way back to the
manor, Syd stops at the parking lot. “This is where I take my
leave,” he says, shaking my hand. “The next time I see you, young
lady, I’m going to work on making you smile.”

I laugh. “I think I’ll
have to work on that myself.”

“Well stated. I’ve
enjoyed our meeting.”

As he drives away in
his light blue Impala, I turn to Verna and say, “If you don’t marry
him, I will.”

She gives a soft laugh.
“I’m seriously considering it,” she says. “I guess you’ll be off
now, too.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She frowns. “One should
never be afraid, Rachel.”

Driving away from the
manor, I’m overcome by a sudden, frightening emptiness.
“It’s
okay,”
I tell myself.
“Everything is perfectly okay.”
My
life seems to hang on those words. Deciding that what I need is a
quiet place to sit where no one will bother me, I drive to a nearby
woodlot.

Going down one narrow
dirt road after another, I admire the birds, the greenery -- the
primitiveness. Next to a boggy area with a beaver dam, I park the
car. Leaning back in my seat, I let out a slow breath and lift my
face to the sun. What’s wrong with me? Why did I drive here? Just
as I’m thinking about how desperate I’ve become, the feeling of
warmth on my face intensifies, and fleetingly I feel a connection
to some greater force. The experience puts me in mind of a book I
read years ago. During my first year at university, I sought the
meaning of life between the covers of a five dollar paperback
called
Reclaim your Soul, Reclaim your Body.

“All that is required
to make contact with your spirit guide is a receptive mind,” it
read. “Find a quiet place to meditate, state your desire, open your
brain to the possibility, and await your communication.

“Your spirit guide --
guardian angel, positive energy source, soul teacher -- has many
physical shapes or energy forms to choose from to communicate with
you, and all are equally wonderful. Some choose light, while others
choose shadows or a human form.
Just relax and dream.
Listen
to the messages transmitted through your soul. The experience has
to do with the listener, the envisioner, not what is being
envisioned or heard. You are, after all, listening to your own
soul.”

Closing my eyes, I try
to relax. Suddenly, the wind picks up, gently buffeting the car.
Breathing deeply, I inhale warm, earthy smells, and begin to feel
groggy, muzzy-headed,
lighter.
A vision floats through my
mind. I’m in a forest, sometime in the past. I’m a small Native
American girl of about six. My name is Sarah. When I look up, my
true father, my guardian angel, extends his hand. I take it and
smile. His name is Nathaniel. We walk through the woods and down to
a river where we sit on a rock and put our feet in the water. “The
water is part of you,” he says. “When it washes over you, it will
cleanse your soul. Whenever you feel you are lost in spirit, go to
the water and you will find me there.” I look up at him. “You’re
not going to leave me, are you, Father?” He smiles. “One day, my
physical body will leave this life, but my spirit will still
wander. If you need me, you have simply to call my name. I will
always be here for you. We are bonded.” Looking at him, I say, “But
I don’t want you to go.” He nods. “I know, but we cannot change the
laws of the universe; they are there for a reason.” I hold on
tightly to his hand as we look out at the river, and a wave of
relaxation washes over me.

Opening my eyes, I’m
startled to see a doe run in front of my car. Stopping in front of
the hood, she faces me, and for moments we look at one another.
Then she bounds away. After she’s gone, I find myself wondering if
what I saw and felt was real -- but then decide that it doesn’t
really matter. I’m thankful for whatever happened.

On my way to the
clinic, I stop off at a bakery for a kaiser roll and a bottle of
spring water. I don’t remember the last time food tasted so
good.

Anxious to avoid as
much human interaction as possible, I time my arrival at the clinic
for exactly one o’clock and walk in through the back door. Tim is
in the kennel room rehydrating a sick cat. Moments later, Mike
appears at the doorway.

“Hi, Rachel. Do you
want to come to the front office to go over this afternoon’s
schedule?”

When I join him, he
briefs me on the morning’s activities, and we divide the afternoon
jobs. As I’m leaving, he says, “Are we still on for the dinner at
my place on Friday?”

“Of course,” I tell
him.

“How’s it going,
Rachel?”

I shrug. “It’s going to
be a rough week.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m taking the week to
analyse my life and to make choices about where I’m headed.”

“Just a week?” he says.
He has such a nice smile.

“It’s a start.”

“I miss being with you,
Rachel.”

“I know.”

The day is busy and
five o’clock comes mercifully quickly. Not wanting to go home, I go
out to dinner and then to the library. When I finally get back to
my apartment, there are three messages on the answering machine. I
waver between erasing or listening to them.

The first one is from
Reynaldo. “Hi, Rachel. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Talk
to you soon.” Not if I can help it.

The next one is from
Mike. “Hi, Rachel. Just wondering how you’re doing. Call me if
you’re up to it.” I’m not.

My heart reacts when I
listen to the last message. “Hi, Rach. It’s Bryan. Give me a call
when you get the chance. I was just thinking about you and wanted
to talk.” I don’t call him.

Erasing the messages, I
remember something my mother said: “There’s a period of time we all
go through as women when we’re at the height of everything: our
beauty, our intelligence, our wit, and our energy. It’s a very
nubile phase, and men will come in droves when they see you in this
phase. Don’t be overwhelmed, Rachel, and don’t make the mistake of
being flattered and settling for the first one. And there’s another
thing. Don’t stay with a man because he’s nice and because he wants
you. Make sure you want him. Make sure you desire him.”

Up until the age of
twenty-eight, I had done without the world of men altogether; now
it seems to be closing in on me.

After a long shower, I
collapse into bed. Nathaniel appears in my dreams. He’s dead and
his spirit is wandering in the woods. I’m still Sarah, but I’m in
my twenties. Walking in the woods, I catch a glimpse of him now and
again, and there is some comfort there.

Chapter 15

When I wake up, I have
trouble remembering what day it is. It takes me a couple of minutes
to realize that it’s Tuesday and that my alarm didn’t go off.

Getting to work fifteen
minutes late, I’m the last to arrive. Even Shane has beaten me.

“Hi, Rachel,” Lucy
says. “Mike’s out back talking with Shane. Shane’s upset about the
police asking him questions about the break-ins.”

In the treatment room,
Albert fixes his gaze on me. Seeing an empty syringe on the
counter, I find the urge overwhelming. Shane walks in as I’m
squirting water into Albert’s cage.

“Got you too, did
he?”

“Yup, and he’s a
she.”

“What?”

“She laid an egg the
day after she took a piece out of me.”

“No shit.”

“No shit,” I tell him.
“Sorry to hear the police are giving you a hard time.”

“I couldn’t remember
where I was on the nights of the break-ins. Plus there’s my police
record. No big deal. I’m used to them bugging me.”

“I don’t think anyone
could get used to that.”

He frowns. “You don’t
think I’m stealing from the clinic, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

The day passes problem
free. When I get to the car, I realize that I didn’t tell anyone I
was leaving, and drive off.

After a lazy dinner at
home, I head off to my self-defence course. In the changing room,
Sondra approaches me.

“
So?”
she
says.

“So what?”

“Fess up, Rach.”

“Sorry, Sondra. The
only sex Bryan and I are having is in your imagination.”

“Hmmm,” she says, and
walks off.

In the gym, Sergeant
McMahon blows his whistle, and we take our places. “Before we
start,” he says, “I have some business I’d like to attend to.” He
marks a line on the floor and puts on a vest. “Cadet Wiley, advance
to the line.”

Surprised, I do as I’m
told.

He gives me a direct
look. “On my cue, advance and hit me in the abdomen.
Go.”

I advance to hit him,
but stop short. I can’t believe it.

“Cadet Wiley, return to
the line. On my cue.
Go.”

I hit him hard.

Sheena gets it on the
first try.

Sergeant McMahon takes
off his vest and gets down to business. “Tonight, cadets, you will
review falling, destabilizing your opponent, kicking and punching.
Then you will learn how to use large parts of your body against
smaller parts of your opponent’s body to cause surprise and injury.
This will give you the chance to escape a violent confrontation.
You will be broken up into groups to practice these moves.”

As the evening
progresses, we learn how to thrust a palm into an aggressor’s nose,
how to ram an elbow into an aggressor’s stomach, and how to
properly kick and knee someone in the genitals. We’re also shown
how to break various holds an attacker may use by using momentum
and a large part of our body, such as our arm, against a smaller
part of an aggressor’s body, such as his hand. The effectiveness of
the techniques surprises me.

After class, we go to
The Lookout. Having decided to go easy on the drinking, I’m on my
third ginger ale when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Craig
Finemore, a guy from my vet class. He’s absolutely gorgeous, but
without the morals to match.

“I wasn’t sure it was
you, Rach. You look different.”

All the women are quiet
as I introduce the Adonis.

“Do you want to join
us?” I ask Craig.

“I was hoping you’d
join me at my table.”

“Sure,” I tell him.

As we catch up on news,
he keeps telling me how great I look and orders me a glass of wine.
Just as I’m thinking what an unctuous ass he is, Bryan and Dave
walk in and stop by our table.

“Hi, Rach. I wondered
whether you’d be here,” Bryan says.

I smile. “Hi, Bryan.
This is Craig from my vet class. Craig, this is Michelle Lin’s
brother.”

“What’s your last name,
Craig?” Bryan asks.

“Finemore.”

“Right. Rachel, could I
talk to you for a minute?”

We go to the bar, where
Bryan orders a drink. Looking at me, he says, “Craig’s bad news,
Rach. He came on really strong with Michelle once and scared
her.”

“Really?” I say. “Gosh,
I always knew he was slimy, but I didn’t know he was
that
slimy.”

Bryan frowns. “If you
knew Craig was slimy, why are you off by yourself with him?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.
I guess because he came over to my table and asked me to.”

Looking tense, he says,
“Rach, you have to be careful with guys like him. You’ve got to cut
them off at the start, before they get revved up.”

Feeling like an idiot,
I promise Bryan that I’ll take care of it. Walking by Craig’s
table, I tell him that I’m going to sit with my friends. He asks me
for my phone number, but I don’t give it to him.

“Tell us more about
that fresh piece of meat,” Sondra says as I sit down.

“He’s bad news and big
trouble.”

“What a shame,” Rhoda
says. “Such a cute package.”

The rest of my night is
carefree and a lot of fun.

At the end of the
evening when Bryan walks me to my car, a cool breeze kicks up and
swirls around us, and I feel like everything will be okay -- like
life will be okay.

“I’m on the night shift
for the next two nights,” Bryan says, “Why don’t you drop by my
place after work tomorrow for a few minutes?”