Chapter Ten
Should I go to a different mass? Skip it and confess next week? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d skipped mass and confessed. I lay in bed and debated.
Sunday mornings were usually done by rote. I’d been doing the same thing every Sunday for the last sixty-some-odd years. Get up, shower, dress, and grab some coffee and enough sustenance to last me through the mass without my stomach grumbling.
Follow the mass, sometimes with more attention than others. The beauty of rituals done all one’s life is the ability to do them without thinking. That leaves the brain free for other important things, like how to fix the tractor without money for new parts.
But the last thing I wanted this morning was time to think. It was all I had been doing since I left Rodrigo’s yesterday. We’d spent the time during lunch getting to know each other better. It had been easy. He’d even laughed at my attempted jokes.
He’d talked easily about his late wife, leaving me with the sense that they’d had a good marriage. I was amazed to find a twinge of jealousy for their happiness.
Several times during the lunch, I’d wondered what I was doing. Getting to know and enjoy spending time with a man I was never going to see again made no sense. Especially since I wasn’t interested in a man—any man—at all.
I pushed the covers away and got up. May as well face the music. If I didn’t go, I was sure Trixie Lynn would have something to say. I was quite sure she was the guest Antonia had referenced. The woman made delivering barbs with a smile into an art form.
All my dawdling made me late for church. The parking lot was fairly full since this was the most popular service. I walked as quickly as possible, took the program the usher passed me, and found a seat toward the back.
The first thing I did was scan the congregation for Rodrigo. I tried to do it as subtly as possible, but needed to crank my head about to see every corner.
What was it with Texas women and big hair? I’d thought we were all done with that after the ’80s .
I’d just spotted him when the woman seated next to me gave me the stink eye.
It took all the restraint I had not to stick my tongue out at her.
Content to know he was there, I was a dignified old lady throughout the rest of the service, concentrating on the rituals and trying not to think about why I was content.
After the service, the church emptied in its usual process. Ready for more coffee and torn between wanting to see Rodrigo and hoping to avoid him, I hustled over to the meeting room where the socializing occurred.
As soon as I entered, I spotted him. He smiled and walked toward me, two steaming cups of coffee in his hands.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it this morning,” he said and held out one of the cups to me. “It’s the way you like it. Milk only.”
“Thank you,” I said.
We stood next to each other in silence for a few moments, drinking our coffee and scanning the crowd. He smiled at people he knew, while I nodded at acquaintances.
It was like being in my own church at home, a familiarity and comfort of community.
Trixie Lynn spotted us and started making her way over.
I stifled my sigh.
“Would Tuesday be a good day for golf?” Rodrigo asked.
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Deadly. But I’m going to start you with miniature golf.”
I had a vague idea of windmills and small children running amok with metal sticks.
“I have to check the car schedule, but I think I could do that.”
“I can pick you up,” he said. “That way you won’t get lost.”
“I’ve been driving all over this country,” I said. “I haven’t gotten lost yet.” Maybe misplaced a few times, but I wasn’t going to let him know that.”
“I’m sure you are capable,” he said. “I’d like to pick you up, though.”
I hesitated. Picking me up sounded too much like a date. And we were not dating.
“I’ll get back to you on that.”
“Hello, Rodrigo,” Trixie Lynn said with a gush of over-friendliness. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week. I’ve missed you.” She gave me a dismissive glance. “I see you’re still here, um …”
I stayed silent, daring her to refuse to remember my name .
“Ah, yes. Kathleen. You and your sisters look so much alike, it’s hard to keep you straight.”
We looked nothing alike, but I wasn’t going to bite. We’d be gone in a little over a month, and she could have the rancher all to herself. “How was your week?” Rodrigo asked. His smile was gentle.
He suffered fools and angry women far better than I did.
Then I remembered him telling me he had three sisters.
Good training.
“My week has been so busy,” Trixie Lynn said. “I’m in charge of the white elephant sale. It’s coming up in a few weeks. There have been so many donations this year. It’s almost as bad as the pandemic years when people had nothing to do at home but clean out their stuff.”
“I remember that time,” I said, trying to emulate Rodrigo’s kindness. “It was difficult to get anywhere near Goodwill to drop off things.”
“I’m desperate for help,” Trixie Lynn said, ignoring me as she put her hand on Rodrigo’s arm. “Do you think you could spare some time … or perhaps Antonia could help?”
His face got as pale as naturally dark skin could get.
I couldn’t help my smile.
“Uh …” he stammered. “Not really … I’m busy, and I’m sure Antonia is too. She’s got some big cleaning project … spring you know.”
“It’s only January,” Trixie Lynn pointed out.
“She’s getting started early,” he said.
“I could help,” I said, then smacked my lips together.
They turned to me, astonished looks on their faces.
“I mean … well … if it’s in a few weeks. I’ll be here for a while yet.”
“I need people to clean things and get them ready for sale,” Trixie Lynn said. “It’s dirty work.”
“I’m a rancher,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “It’s all dirty work.”
She looked torn between wanting to tell me to get lost and hug me for solving her problem.
“Thank you,” she said, opting for politeness. “Let me have your phone number, and I’ll text you the details.”
“Don’t forget to write it on the schedule,” Rodrigo reminded me.
“What?” Trixie Lynn asked.
“They share a car and keep a calendar to show who needs it when. Clever, isn’t it? ”
“I suppose. Be easier if everyone had a car.”
“Difficult enough to tow one car behind a forty-three foot rig. Three would be impossible.”
“Do you have a driver? That must be like steering a semi.”
“You’re looking at her,” I told Trixie Lynn.
“You drive it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh.” Trixie smoothed her blond hair, then did the same to her skirt before looking at Rodrigo. “I can’t even imagine steering such a big vehicle,” she said. “I’ve always thought that would be a man’s job.”
Oh, puh-leeze.
“Kathleen is a very capable woman,” he said. “I admire her for that.” He smiled at me, igniting Trixie Lynn’s ire.
“She needs to be, I suppose,” she said. “I’m glad I’ve had a man around most of my life to handle the heavy lifting. That’s why it’s so hard now, since my husband died.” She actually batted her eyelashes at him.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Rodrigo said.
“There aren’t many eligible men my age.” She stepped a few inches closer.
“You could always learn to do things yourself,” I said. “Most of it’s not hard.”
“Well …” She turned her hard eyes and fake smile my way. “Some of us don’t have the upper body strength that others do. We use our body for other, more feminine, things.” She arranged herself in a way that was clearly suggestive of what her own body was capable of doing.
Good thing my father finally convinced me that physical fighting wasn’t the way to solve problems.
“They’re not mutually exclusive,” I said. I didn’t try to move. If I had tried to put my legs in those positions, I’m sure I would have broken something.
Rodrigo cleared his throat and ran his finger under his collar.
I pulled out my phone. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you to find out when you need my help,” I said. “I’m sure I could help out with the heavy and dirty things you’ve got.” I smirked at her.
She gave me her phone number anyway.
Someone came over and told Trixie Lynn the Father wanted to speak to her about something.
“It was nice talking to you. And, Rodrigo, we must catch up again soon. I have to go to find out what the father needs.” Her voice brimmed with self-importance, and her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she left us.
“Whew,” Rodrigo said.
I laughed. “Not used to cat fights in church?”
His eyes widened as he looked at me, then he laughed as well.
“Nope,” he said. “Nor am I used to someone being so honest about it. My sisters used to get into it. Sometimes it descended into hair-pulling. Now that was vicious.”
“I was a bit of a hell-raiser in grade school,” I admitted. “Dad told me he was tired of coming to get me at school, and I needed to stop or he’d have to take a belt to me.”
“Solving violence with violence,” Rodrigo noted.
“Yeah. It was a different time.”
“I get it. In fact, my rear got a smack more than once. So what did you do instead when someone did something you didn’t like?”
“When the mean girls came calling?” I asked. “Because they aren’t a myth. They are everywhere.” I shrugged. “My dad told me to use my words. I got really, really good at that.”
“So I see.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. She was baiting you. I think you handled it just fine.” He reached his hand toward me, but didn’t make contact.
Something fluttered around my insides.
“Thanks,” I managed to get out.
Our moment didn’t last very long.
“Welcome to the congregation,” a slim woman with a short haircut, who had ‘former nun’ written all over her, said as she reached us.
“Thank you,” I said and then explained that I was only here for a short time.
She told me if I needed anything at all to feel free to contact her and gave me her number.
A number of other women followed her to introduce themselves or greet me. Some were friendlier than others. They were a mix of Latina and white, widows and divorcées, older and younger.
Trixie Lynn had a lot of competition for Rodrigo’s attention.
Through it all, he remained an absolute gentleman, pleasant and courteous.
I was glad to be by his side, but couldn’t wait to get out of there.
As soon as I could, I made my escape.