Chapter 11
11
F or days, Flora left her house in the morning as though she still had a job at Rainshadow, walking into the morning mists with purpose and nowhere to go. She couldn’t explain to her mother what happened, couldn’t tolerate being blamed. She didn’t know what she would do at the week’s end when she had no money to show for her efforts.
She walked, instead, to the little library in the tiny downtown area on Anderson Island. She sat, flipping through local newspapers, looking for job postings. There were none on the island, and no matter how she tried, she could not imagine how she could move to a new place without any money saved. Even a cheap apartment in Seattle required a security deposit of hundreds of dollars, and she was terrified at the prospect of sharing a house with someone she’d never met, so she read the classifieds looking for roommates, but never replied to any of them.
Then she saw the ad for the mounted police unit.
Seattle was looking for equestrian police, and the more she read the requirements, the more she began to believe that she might actually, really have what it took to get hired. She could run a mile and do fifteen push-ups, she didn’t do drugs, and she knew her way around a barn. Last and most importantly, the Seattle PD would pay a moving stipend to new hires, one thousand dollars, enough to secure a decent one-bedroom apartment in Seattle.
Horses, money, security, wasn’t that everything she wanted?
No.
She wanted Rainshadow, wanted to be there, wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to see Ethan again, thought of him every day. Part of her fantasized that he would come, beg to have her back. None of that mattered, she reminded herself again and again. The universe, cruel and unfair, had seen fit to give Sylvia a beautiful house, beautiful horses, a beautiful life, and a beautiful man. Her bitterness, so palpable, was the real evil at Rainshadow, a pulsing, oozing evil that soiled everything, making a beautiful, perfect place into something ugly. Bane, Flora thought, couldn’t stand it anymore, and had chosen death.
Flora asked a librarian for help getting on the computer. She sat, hen-pecking the keyboard until she had written a cover letter and resume. Then she walked to the post office, folded her papers into an envelope, bought a stamp, and dropped a whole new possible future into a clanging blue mailbox.
That night, curled in her bed, listening to a book on tape she’d picked up at the library, Flora’s mom rapped on her door.
“You have a visitor.”
The news was so surprising that her mother might have said that a parade was going by the house.
“A visitor?” Flora said, stepping out of her room.
Her mother looked at her with narrow, questioning eyes. “A man.”
“A man?”
Flora’s heart leaped. She stopped herself from rushing to the door.
In her fantasies, Ethan came to her and stood waiting on her doorstep. Now, he was there, and she felt as though she were in some book, some dream, the hero of her story come to tell her that he chose her, that it was really she that he desired.
“Ethan,” she said.
“Your mother didn’t invite me in,” he said, and his voice was as cool as the night.
“Come in, please, come in,” Flora said. She was breathless. She felt like she could faint into his arms as they stood in the cramped little living room of the bus.
“Where have you been, Flora?” he asked. “Sylvia said you quit? That didn’t sound right to me.”
Flora looked up at him. His eyes, questioning and kind, made her heart thump. “Did she tell you what happened? To her horse Bane?”
“Yes,” he said, “a terrible accident, but not your fault. She doesn’t blame you.”
“It seemed like she did. I can’t… I can’t work for someone who thinks I killed one of her horses, Ethan. She’s so…”
“I know. I know she’s difficult,” he said, closing his eyes. Then, he took her hand. His own hand was soft and cool, and calmed her. “She’s difficult because…” He took a ragged breath. “She’s sick, Flora. She’s very sick. She was never an easy woman to get along with, but she was, at least, vibrant. Now…” He looked up at the painted ceiling of the bus, closed his eyes again. “Now she’s so angry. Angry at the world, angry at me, angry at everything. It’s not you, Flora, that she’s angry about. You have to understand.”
Flora nodded.
“She can’t run the farm without you. I can’t help her. I’m allergic to horses. Did you know that?”
They both laughed, a quiet, sad laughter.
“She is so determined, so independent, but she just can’t do it. She’s weak, and she’s getting weaker every day. One day—” He seemed unable to continue.
One day, Flora thought, Sylvia would die.
“What do you want from me?” Flora asked, looking up at him, and she tried to tell him with her eyes how much she cared for him. “I can’t… if Sylvia hates me, doesn’t want me there, I can’t work at Rainshadow.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Ethan insisted. “I’ve made her promise that if you come back, she must be kind to you.”
“I don’t know,” Flora said. “I’ve applied for another job.”
“Where?”
“As a policeman,” Flora said, laughing in a sort of self-deprecating way. “Mounted police.”
“Oh,” said Ethan, his elegant eyebrows peaking in surprise. “That might be a wonderful job for you. But they wouldn’t need you like Sylvia needs you. Like I need you.”
Flora looked up at him. What was he really asking her?
“Ok,” she said. “Until I hear back from this other job, at least.”
“That sounds fair to me,” Ethan said, and gave her hand a squeeze. “And… I’ll drive you home from now on, ok? Until you can get a car? You just have to wait for sunset when I’m off of work.”
“I don’t mind walking.”
“We’ll see.”
As soon as Ethan left, her mother was on her.
“That’s your employer?” Her mother scoffed. “I imagined some older couple. You said?—”
“I didn’t say anything,” Flora snapped. “You assumed.”
“He looks rich!” Maureen said, a greedy glint in her eye.
“Yes, he is, and he pays me well.” Flora knew she shouldn’t have said it, that it would only make her mother’s wheels spin, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to brag. She wanted to make her mother jealous.
“Could be better, maybe,” Maureen said. “Do they need any more help? Maybe to clean?—”
“No!” Flora snapped, putting her hands to her ears. “Leave me alone, Mom!”
Maureen didn’t leave her alone. She followed her. “A man like that knows people, has connections.”
“Connections to what? What are you talking about?”
“Other work, other people, opportunities…” Her mother was spinning with ideas about how she could get money, more and more money, without having to work. She was always like this when she saw an opportunity.
Her mother, Flora realized, lived in a fantasy world where someone else would always come along and save her. She rolled her eyes and pushed past her into the back of the bus.