Unbound - Rachel's Story
Copyright© 2025 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 22
It almost appeared as though a Monday lunchtime tradition was being established. Sarah romped into the cafeteria like a gust of wind, tray clattering as she slid into her seat opposite Rachel. Her eyes went straight to Rachel’s hand.
“So it’s definitely real,” she gushed, grabbing Rachel’s fingers before the other woman could even set down her fork. The diamond winked in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.
Rachel gave her a mock frown. “Oh, come on, Sarah. It was real the moment Matt asked me. I had no doubts — and if you did, you badly misjudged him.”
“Not really. I’m just excited, that’s all. Now fill me in on the weekend. How did your mother handle Matt?”
Rachel gave a soft laugh. “No-one handles Matt, not even me. I feel at times as if I’m just swept up in a wonderful ride and I’m hanging on for dear life.”
“Maybe, but I have every confidence he feels the same about you. It’s a long time since I’ve seen two people so gone over each other.”
“Gone? I’ve never felt so present.” Rachel’s face lit as she spoke. “Mind you, it did take Mum a while to warm up. But she thawed eventually, and yesterday she was apparently as okay with the situation as she was going to allow herself to be. It helped that Matt presented his country-boy-at-heart side, and in fact he invited Mum to visit with his parents. And she agreed, even if a bit hesitantly. I think the fact that he was grounded in a real family that she could meet finally swung the deal.”
Sarah clasped her hands together theatrically. “When’s that happy event going to be?”
“Not finalised yet, but maybe the weekend after next.”
“I so envy you.”
Rachel tilted her head. “Oh? Why?”
“Your future is looking pretty settled. Wish I could say the same thing.”
“Is Steve dragging the chain?”
“I’m throwing out lots of hints, but he’s not taking the bait.”
Rachel stirred her coffee thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s the trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not exactly subtle. Maybe Steve feels he’s being pressured, and he’s not sure of his feelings. Some guys find commitment a tough call. Or there could be a dozen other reasons why he’s hesitating. Can I suggest that you ease off just a bit and let him make the running? He needs to think it’s his idea.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’re sounding like my mother now.”
“Much as I sometimes find it hard to admit, at least in my case, mums are speaking from experience.”
“Okay. I’ll try.”
“And I’ll ask Matt if he can glean where Steve is at. But guys can be shy of tackling such personal questions, so I don’t promise anything.”
“You would? Thank you. I have to dash now — so many happies.”
“Cheers.”
That afternoon, Rachel found a large envelope in her pigeonhole. Inside were two glossy invitations, printed with swirls of green and gold, passes for the members of her class whose work had been accepted, and a note from the Community Art Exhibition committee: would she please phone the secretary about “an additional matter”?
Intrigued, she rang the number after her last class.
The secretary, a brisk but friendly woman named Jan, explained. “We’re planning a short programme of entertainment at the Friday night opening. A few performers from the community are contributing items. We’d love it if you and your young man might present a para dancing demonstration. It was mentioned that you both danced at the Ara ball?”
Rachel caught her breath. “Well — yes, but I’d need to talk to Matt. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
Later that afternoon, Matt collected her from campus and drove them out to his place for dinner. Over shepherd’s pie and beans, Rachel told him about the request.
Matt grinned. “If you’re up for it, I’d be delighted. Besides, I can’t think of anything better than showing the town how well you dance.”
Rachel hesitated only a moment. “A few weeks ago, I’d have hidden under the bed at the thought of performing in public. But since then ... I’ve grown more confident. Especially in your leading. So yes — let’s do it.”
“That’s my girl.”
Matt later took her to her Monday night group, where she buried herself in logistics. The chosen artists needed frames, mounts, transport arrangements; others required support staff to accompany them. Rachel bustled from one table to another, organising, coaxing, checking lists. For once, Matt was glad to be left mainly in the background. He watched her from across the room, admiring the natural authority she showed when she was in her element.
Driving her home afterwards, Matt glanced across with a twinkle in his eye.
“You know what tomorrow is?”
Rachel frowned playfully. “Tuesday?”
“Not just Tuesday. It’s our anniversary! One week since you said yes.”
Rachel laughed. “Has it really only been a week?”
“One glorious week. And I think it deserves a celebration. How about I take you out to dinner? Somewhere a bit special.”
Her eyes softened. “I’d love that. You choose the place — surprise me.”
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