Long Way Home(99)

I glanced at the clock, willing it to slow down. I was running out of time. I waited until four thirty, then called the farm again. “He still isn’t back,” the manager said. “You want to leave a message?” It didn’t seem right to cancel our date by leaving a message, so I decided to drive out to Blue Fence Farms and wait to tell him in person. Or if he still wasn’t back, I would slide a note under the door of his cottage.

I hurried across the street and checked to make sure that Joe was still there, working with Pop. “I’ll be back for you in an hour or so, okay, Joe? You won’t forget, will you?”

Buster and I jumped into my car and I drove out to the farm, imagining Barbara enduring the long, tiring bus ride from Ohio. She must be going through a mixture of emotions, feeling anxious and hopeful and fearful and excited and very eager to hold the man she loved in her arms again. But thinking about her and Joe and my part in this plan gave me a sick, queasy feeling in my stomach. What if calling Barbara had been a terrible mistake? Added to that, my anxiety about facing Paul made me sick with nerves.

Paul still wasn’t back. “You’re the veterinarian’s assistant, right?” the manager asked.

“Um . . . yes. Peggy Serrano. Could you please tell Mr. Dixon I was here looking for him? I-I’ll have to leave a note for him under his door.” It seemed like a cowardly way out. And he wouldn’t learn about the cancellation until the last minute. What if he’d already purchased the food for the picnic? I took my notebook out of my bag and scribbled a note.

Dear Paul,

I’m so sorry, but I have to reschedule our picnic for another time. Someone needs my help, and she’s coming all the way from Ohio by bus, and I need to pick her up at the station tonight. I’m so disappointed, Paul. I hope you will forgive me.

Peggy

Joe and Pop were drinking beer when I returned. Joe had cleaned himself up and seemed in good spirits. He drained the bottle and asked, “How long are you going to keep me in suspense before you tell me what we’re doing?”

“It only takes twenty minutes to drive to New Paltz. I think you can wait that long.”

“Are we taking my motorcycle?”

“No, we’ll need to go in my car.” Buster leaped inside when Joe opened the door. “Um . . . it may not be a good idea to bring Buster,” I said. I had no idea how Barbara felt about dogs.

“Aw, he can come along, can’t he?” It wasn’t really a question. Buster and Joe had already settled into their seats. I got in and started toward New Paltz.

Of course, the bus was late. Joe kept checking his watch as if eager for a night out on the town, and I paced back and forth in front of the shiny, bullet-shaped diner that doubled as a bus station. I thought I might have to tell him my secret before he throttled me, but the bus arrived in the nick of time. Only one person stepped off.

“Barbie?” Joe breathed when he saw her. “Barbie! Hey! It’s really you!” She dropped her bag and ran into his arms, just like people did in the movies.

“Hey, did you arrange all this?” Joe asked me with a grin.

“She did!” Barbara said. “Thank you, Peggy. You’re wonderful! It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

I had no idea what to do next. I figured they must want to be alone. Barbara solved my dilemma by gesturing to the diner. “Could we get a bite to eat? I ate the ham sandwich I packed hours ago. I’m starving!”

“Sure,” Joe said but he looked like he was eating a banquet just by gazing at her.

“I’ll wait out here,” I said, but Barbara wouldn’t hear of it. I tied Buster up near the car, then went in and sat in the booth across from Barbara and Joe and ordered a cola, wondering if Paul had gotten my note and if he was angry with me for standing him up. Meanwhile, Barbara did most of the talking, telling Joe about her bus ride and filling him in on the news from back home. I didn’t know how she would manage to eat with only one hand, but Joe finally let go of hers long enough for them to eat their hamburgers.

“I’ve arranged for you to stay here tonight,” I told her when we passed the guesthouse on the way into town. “I’ll take your bag there for you.” I dropped the two lovebirds off at Pop’s garage and heard them making plans to leave again on Joe’s motorcycle. I didn’t blame them. It was only eight thirty on a balmy Saturday evening. I put Buster in his kennel and returned to the guesthouse, contented yet feeling strangely empty inside as I wondered what my picnic with Paul would have been like.

I tossed in bed all night, looking at the glowing hands of my alarm clock and listening for Barbara to come home. The sun was just appearing when I finally heard Joe’s motorcycle outside. I hurried down to the back door to let her in, hoping we wouldn’t awaken Mrs. Jenkins or the couple from New Jersey who were renting one of her other rooms.

“Sorry,” Barb whispered as we hurried upstairs to my room. “Oh, I have so much to tell you, Peggy!” We sat on our twin beds, talking like two old friends as she told me about her night. Joe had taken her up to the lookout to see the stars, and they had stayed up there all night, talking and planning their future. Joe hadn’t even needed a drink.

“He has changed so much in these past few months, thanks to you,” Barbara said.

“To me? I haven’t done anything.”