9. Chapter Nine
The air in the Lubbock art gallery feels more oppressive than any Texas heat wave I’ve had to endure. Paintings hang on the walls with colors swirling in patterns and strokes that might as well be a foreign language to me.
It worked out perfectly that Rose could find me a date the same day I was in town for the livestock auction, but now that I’m here, I couldn’t feel more out of place.
“Isn’t it just breathtaking?” she says. Lisa, an art dealer from Chicago and one of Rose’s old college friends, stands beside me in the middle of a gallery where everyone is whispering for some unknown reason.
“Sure is,” I say, hoping my enthusiasm sounds convincing to at least one of us.
As we drift from one canvas to the next, Lisa talks about light and shadow, texture and form. Soon, my nods start to feel like a metronome set on the slowest tempo until every word that comes out of her mouth makes me feel even more self-conscious.
“Who’s your favorite artist?” She turns to face me, and her question hangs in the air like a pop quiz I never studied for.
“Uh...” I stall, scanning my brain for any artist who isn’t a country singer or a rodeo clown. Nothing comes to mind.
“Well, Lisa…” I start rubbing the back of my neck, where tension usually settles anytime I step in it. “I gotta come clean with you. I don’t know the first thing about art. I’m about as cultured as a tumbleweed.”
To my surprise, she lets out a laugh that bounces off the gallery walls. “Geez, Henry, why didn’t you say something sooner?”
I shrug. “I thought it’d be fun to try something different?”
“Well, clearly, it’s not your scene. What do you say we get out of here? There’s a beautiful park across the street that shouldn’t be too crowded this time of day.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say, relieved we’re doing something familiar.
We head outside, swapping the gallery’s hushed tones for the bustle of the city park. It’s almost like taking a deep breath after being underwater too long.
“Better?” Lisa smiles, slipping her sunglasses on.
“Definitely,” I chuckle, feeling the familiar warmth of the sun as the stress in my neck melts.
“So, Rose tells me you’re in town for business. What kind of work do you do?”
“I own a ranch,” I admit. “You know, breaking horses, selling cattle—that sort of thing. I travel to Lubbock a few times every month to check out the livestock auctions.”
“Sounds... earthy,” she says thoughtfully.
“Earthy’s one way to put it,” I laugh.
Of all the dates I’ve been on, this one feels the most natural. We walk and talk about our hometowns, the places we’ve been, and dreams we’ve either corralled or let run wild. Lisa tells me about her love for gardening and how she finds peace in the soil while I share stories about Sugar Plum and how the land seems to hold echoes from voices of the past.
It turns out we both appreciate the simple things in life, like a good cup of coffee, the sound of rain on a tin roof, or the quiet company of someone who doesn’t feel the need to chatter mindlessly to fill the space.
“Thanks for suggesting this,” I say, feeling an easy connection.
“Thank you for being honest,“ Lisa says, her smile radiating warmth. “It’s refreshing after trying to date in the city. Most men I’ve dated were too pretentious to enjoy something as simple as a stroll through the park on a weekday.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” I smile and glance down at my watch, wishing I had more time to enjoy our conversation before I have to be at the stockyards. “I had a great time getting to know you today, Lisa. I’m glad Rose set this up.”
“Me too,” she nods. “Rose is a good friend. And you’re a good man, too, Henry. I hope you find what it is you’re looking for.”
I almost blush when she leans in for a hug. “You as well.”
After spending the rest of my day around a bunch of sweaty cowboys, I can better appreciate the idea of having a woman to come home to every night. Speaking of women, the phone rings, and Rose’s name flashes across the screen.
“So… how did it go with Lisa? I already got her side of things, but I’ve been dying to know how you feel about everything.”
“She was great. Probably the first normal date I’ve had since we started,” I admit.
“That’s good to hear. I told you it would get easier with time, didn’t I?”
“That you did. Now, if only we could find me a dancing partner, I’d be all set for the reunion this weekend.” Thinking about showing up to the reunion with a date feels as exciting as it does terrifying, but I guess I’m all in now.
“That’s actually why I called.” There’s a shift in her tone, and I’m not sure if I should be worried or not. “I found another match in my database that might be perfect for you. I was hoping you two could meet for coffee before you drive home in the morning.”
“Oh?” I perk up in my hotel bed.
“Her name is Megan. She’s originally from Kentucky, but she’s a travel nurse, so she’s here all month on assignment. Anyway, she’s a great girl, and I think you two could hit it off.”
“You know me well. I can’t say no to a good cup of coffee before I hit the road,” I say, hoping to make another connection like the one I had this afternoon with Lisa.
“Great. Get some rest, and I’ll text you all the details in the morning after I confirm with her. Goodnight, Henry.”
“Goodnight, Rose.”
***
The next morning, Rose’s text hits like clockwork.
Can you be at Brewed Awakening Coffee Lounge on University by 9:30?
I’ll be there wearing bells
As long as they’re not cowbells wink emoji>
Mooooooo
Rose: eye roll emoji>
Leave it to Rose to find Lubbock’s largest population of college hipsters and drop me right in the center of it with my handlebar mustache and pearl snap shirt. I feel like a dinosaur when I park my truck and start toward the entrance of the coffee shop.
My boots click on the tiled floor inside, anticipation building with every step. I may have been through some oddball encounters lately, but with each one chipping away at old fears, I’m starting to feel more confident than ever.
“Are you Henry?” a voice asks as I approach the counter.
“Guilty as charged,” I reply, realizing it might be in my best interest to find a better line than the one I’ve been using. When I turn on my heel, I’m met with the warmest pair of brown eyes and the friendliest smile I’ve seen in days. “You must be Megan.”
“Rose mentioned you were quite the character,” she says, nudging me playfully. “She wasn’t kidding, huh?”
“Oh, that Rose. Always selling me short,” I quip, and we both share a laugh while the cashier takes our order.
“Let’s grab a table,” she says. I follow her to a nearby booth, and the conversations flow easily until our drinks are delivered.
“Tell me, Henry,” she says, leaning in to add a packet of sugar to her cup. “What have you learned about yourself from all of these dates you’ve been on?”
I swirl the dark liquid around in my mug while considering the question. “Well, I learned that art galleries aren’t my scene, honesty is always the best policy, I still don’t like airplanes, I’m not into romance novels, and sometimes a steak can stir up more debate than politics.”
“Sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure.”
“Every day’s an adventure when you’re looking for love, right?” I say with a cheesy grin.
“Or even just figuring out what you want from it,” she says thoughtfully.
I give a solemn nod, feeling the truth of her words resonate. “I’d just like to find someone who wants to watch John Wayne marathons with me.”
“Gosh, Henry, I’m really sorry. I’ve always been a Clint Eastwood girl.”
“I could work with that. I’ve got a soft spot for ‘The Good, The Bad and The Ugly’”
“Best movie ever,” she declares.
This last one scores a direct hit to my heart, and soon, we’re trading lines from our favorite movies. Megan’s laugh is contagious, and I throw out my cheesiest dad jokes just to hear it again.
“How do you catch a unique rabbit?” I ask.
She grins expectantly.
“Unique up on it. Ba dum tiss.”
She laughs and looks at me with challenging eyes. “Is that the best you got?”
“Wanna know how to catch a tame rabbit?”
“Tell me.”
“Tame way. Unique up on it.” I deliver the punchline with a flourish, and she explodes into laughter. “Okay, okay. Your turn,” I challenge.
“Alright, let me think for a minute,” she says, wiping a tear from her eye. “Okay, what do you call a fake noodle?”
I lean forward, playing along. “I’m stumped.”
“An impasta!”
“That was good,” I say, realizing how at ease we are in each other’s company.
“I never thought I’d meet someone who appreciates Waylon Jennings and Casablanca in the same breath,” I admit.
“Guess today’s your lucky day,” she says with a wink.
Time flies, and before I know it, it’s time for me to get back on the road. We stand reluctantly, and she leans in for a hug.
“Thanks for the laughs, Henry.”
“Thank you, Megan. Safe travels.”
As I hold the door open for her, she waves goodbye and says over her shoulder, “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”
***
Driving back to Sugar Plum, the silence of my truck feels louder than usual as I reach for my phone and dial Rose’s number. “Hey, it’s me,” I say when she picks up.
“Henry, hey. How was it?”
“Rose, she’s something else...” I trail off, still feeling the warmth of Megan’s laughter.
“Sounds promising. You, uh… thinking about asking her to the dance?”
“I’m considering it,” I confess, letting the idea take root.
“You know, if I’ve learned anything about love, it’s that life is too short for what-ifs. You should shoot your shot, Henry. You deserve to be happy.”
Rose’s words sink in in a way I didn’t expect they would, and I’m left thinking back to all the times I let fear hold me back from what was standing right in front of me. If only there were a way I could tell her how much I—
No.
Rose is a married woman. I moved on, and so did she. It’s no use digging up the past now.
“You’re probably right,” I say, letting my thoughts drift back to Megan—sweet, beautiful, and safe—Megan. “I’ll call her tonight.”