A Most Unusual Passage
Copyright© 2026 by J&J
Chapter 32
I was in a foul mood as I topped the hill overlooking the farm; bad enough to keep me from stopping to admire the scene, very unusual for me. I almost always took pleasure in looking out over the countryside below.
When I entered the house, Martha was on the phone. She must have been able to tell I had my dander up; she didn’t so much as nod, as I silently walked over to my chair and sat down. Even the tomcat must have sensed my irritation; he was nowhere to be found.
Martha left me to mull over the events of the day, and I spent the next half hour going over the discussion I’d had with Elizabeth. I also had to stop and think about how Fancy had reacted. I’d known her a long time, and she’d never acted as she did during our brief discussion.
Finally, I simmered down enough to start thinking rationally. I was questioning myself about how I’d acted, when Martha finally broke through my thoughts.
She sat down in the chair across from me and asked, “OK, you going to tell me about what has you so all-fired up you can’t even say hello when you walked in?”
I took a deep breath and then related my discussions with Elizabeth and Fancy. I started at the beginning, and she didn’t interrupt me until I was through.
She shook her head, stood up, and then said, “Well, looks to me like you made a complete ass of yourself.”
“What do you mean? You know I can’t get caught up in how families raise their kids.”
“Marcus,” she answered. “Maybe, you just ought to think how you’d feel if that poor girl did something or ended up killing herself. It might give you a better perspective. Also, you can be the most caring person I’ve ever known, but damn it, you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose sometimes.”
“I don’t know exactly what you mean. Maybe I don’t understand what’s going on with the girl. But I’m also not so sure it’s my responsibility, as a teacher and administrator, to get involved in what is clearly a family matter.”
I chuckled; then continued, “Martha, maybe I’m just getting too damn old, and times are changing, and I’m not a part of the change. I’ll make sure I get back with Elizabeth and go over her concerns with an open mind.”
“That’s more like it.” Martha said. “Her training and energy, coupled with your knowledge and experience, make too good a team to waste on arguing with each other. Now I’m going to fix dinner, and by the way, Roger is coming over to take care of his horses this evening. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Elizabeth shows up as well.”
She then paused and gave me a big grin, “I doubt we’ll even see her with Roger around.”
I just shook my head as she walked out of the room. Thinking all the while, “Just how did I get myself in such a mess?”
I had been home long enough to change out of my school clothes, fix a cup of tea and sit down to read some more of Sylvia’s remarkable poetry when the phone rang.
“Hello, Manigault residence; may I help you?”
“Elizabeth, it’s Martha; how are you?”
“I’m well, thanks; glad to hear from you. How’ve you been?” I asked.
“Me, I’m fine; not ‘zipping around the state in a little yellow sports car’ fine, but...” She ignored my protests and continued, “Isn’t this the evening you were going to do some cleaning in the new stables?”
“No, I don’t remember saying I was going to do anything like that,” I said puzzled.
“Oh my,” Martha sighed. “It must be my old memory playing tricks on me. Maybe it’s because Roger is coming over, and I was just thinking it would be nice if he had some help. Well, never mind, dear; sorry to bother you. At my age, memory can play tricks on you.”
“No, no, wait a minute,” I interjected. “I believe you may be right. Must have slipped my mind. Ah ... what time did I say I was coming?”
“Oh sometime in the next 30 minutes should be good ... Oh, oh...”
In the background, I heard a door slam. Then Martha sotto voce, “And a very good evening to you, sir.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“THAT was Marcus, and he’s hotter than a July car seat. Not sure what’s going on, but someone, and I’m betting on you, must have licked the red off of his candy. He’s sourer than a homemade vinegar pickle.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that would be me. We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye on one student,” I admitted. “But it makes me feel awful to upset him so.”
“Elizabeth, ask yourself one question. Do you honestly believe you’re acting in the best interest of the student?”
“Yes, I honestly do.”
“Then you do whatever you have to do. Marcus is a tough old bird, and he can take it. He’ll never hold it against you personally, if you are acting out of conscience. God knows he has often enough.”
“Thanks, Martha; that makes me feel better.”
“And Elizabeth...”
“Yes, Martha?”
“You might want to wear some of those new riding duds. You never know.”
I changed quickly and raided the cleaning supplies, before driving out to the Martel farm. I parked at the stables, not wanting to make a social call on Marcus in his present mood.
By the time Roger’s jeep pulled up, I was the very picture of the industrious stable hand, right down to some artfully-placed smudges of dirt. He came through the door, wearing Levi’s and a flannel shirt and carrying a saddle. Oh. my God, it was my dreamland cowboy come to life. Oh, unfair advantage! How could I play it cool and aloof, when I was all too aware that having the living embodiment of fifteen years of bedtime fantasy walk through the door had made two new buttons pop up on my blouse?
“Good evening, Elizabeth,” he grunted. “Excuse me while I set this down.”
My dignity was saved, because saddles are such heavy and awkward things to hold that getting rid of one kept him occupied long enough for me to recover my composure.
“Good evening, Roger; you’re a pleasant surprise. Nice-looking saddle.”
“Thank you; it’s nothing fancy, but it’s been in the family a long time. Belongs to my mother, who got it when she was about your age. She always took good care of it.”
“Is your mother still alive?”
“Mom? Oh my God; yes, she’s alive all right, and more lively than a bag of snakes. You’ll have to meet her. She lives with me.”
“I’m sure that’s very nice for both of you,” I said with a carefully neutral voice. However, I had a small sinking feeling in my gut.
Roger looked at me very oddly for a minute; then suddenly he burst out laughing. He had a very nice hearty laugh. “Forgive me, Elizabeth; I forgot you’re not from around here. I suspect that back in Charleston, ‘lives with his mother’ is not a compliment when applied to a man my age. Am I correct?”
“No offense, Roger, but yes, it’s equivalent to saying a girl makes her own clothes.”
“Around here, farms are just so big; it’s often the only sensible way to keep the property in the family. Don’t worry; I’m damn sure not what you’d call a momma’s boy, and if I was, my mom would be the first one to throw me out on my butt, cause she wouldn’t tolerate it.”
“You don’t owe an explanation. Your personal life is really none of my business, Roger.”
He walked over to where I was standing, until he was only a few feet away, and he gazed into my eyes with his sapphire blue ones. “What would happen if I decided I wanted to make it your business?”
I found I couldn’t get my eyes unlocked from his, and my breath caught in my throat. “Ah ... I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Roger.”
“It’s pretty simple. You are an unusually attractive, intelligent, and independent woman; a rare combination I happen to be particularly fond of. If you’re not already involved with someone and would be interested, I’d like to see you socially.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. “Wow ... ah, you just believe in coming right out with it, huh?”
Roger smiled, “Yeah, don’t much care for games. I’d like to go out with you, Elizabeth. It’s up to you to say yes or no. I’ll give you riding lessons either way.”
The answer was obvious, but I made him wait a bit, as if I were considering it.
“I am seeing someone,’ I said. I paused just long enough to see his face fall in disappointment.
“But it’s not anything serious or exclusive,” I continued. He cautiously brightened. “So, yes, I’d be happy to go out with you.”
“Good, how about we go riding Saturday?”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said,” but under two conditions.”
He cocked a skeptical eyebrow at the word “conditions.”
“I get to cook dinner after the ride, and second, I know how to ride by then.”
Roger agreed happily to my terms and started my first lesson immediately. Azalea, the mare, turned out to be a gentle ride, and I remembered a lot more from my Girl Scout lessons than I thought I would. I also rediscovered my love of the sport. The pure physicality of interacting with the huge muscular beast helped release some of the stress. All too soon, the lesson was over, and Roger was showing me how to take care of my mount.
“You ride well enough, Elizabeth,” he said. “You could ride on your own when I’m not around.”
“I don’t feel quite ready to solo yet, and besides, I like having some company.” At that moment Azalea gave an angry-sounding snort.
I nuzzled her and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, Azalea; you’re great company, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to as well.”
Roger laughed. “I’m not especially known as a great talker, you might be better off with the horse.”
I put my hand on his arm and looked earnestly into his eyes. “I hope you are wrong, because I need someone to talk to, and I don’t believe the horse can help.”
Roger realized immediately I was serious. “Of course, you can talk to me about anything you want, and I’ll do my best to help.”
“You are a teacher, plus you know the people around here. I’m told the parents don’t welcome suggestions or criticisms about any decisions concerning their children.”
“That’s an understatement,” he said. “They are fiercely independent and are very suspicious of any interference.”
“So as a teacher, you never go up against the parents?”
Roger shook his head. “Didn’t say I never did it. I just said that parents don’t like it.”
“Do you ever win?”
“Not often. But sometimes, it’s enough for your student to know you cared enough to try.”
I thought for a second Then I asked my final question. “How do you know when it’s time to fight, or just to let it go?”
“You can learn a lot from following Marcus’ lead. He’s been fighting for kids longer than anyone.”
Then Roger looked at me with those piercing blue eyes. “As far as I know, Elizabeth, in the end, your conscience is the only reliable guide you ever have in life.”
I said, “Roger, you’re very much mistaken. You’re very good at talking.” Then I leaned up, gave him a kiss on the cheek and hurried back to my car. I had plans to make, because tomorrow, I planned to take on Mr. Chambers.
I got home at 9:00, which meant if was already 11:00 back home, but Daddy was as big a night owl as I am, so I didn’t hesitate to call. I brought him up to speed on Sylvia and read a couple of her poems.
“Kitten, I’m going to have to vote with your cowboy friend on this one,” he said. “This girl deserves your help, and she needs a friend. Win, lose or draw, you gotta take on this one.”
“You have any advice for me?”
“Just this, Kitten. I know you feel like the knight in shining armor and think that Marcus is never going to fight. But remember this: the man was fighting for these kids long before you were born. If he’s more cautious, it’s probably because he knows he needs to be. Give him a chance to think it through and come around on his own. These are his kids, too, and he won’t let one come to harm in the end.”
“I wish that were true, Daddy, but I think his fight is all used up.”
“Give him time, Kitten; old warriors pick their fights with care.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy; this particular old warrior had his chance.”
I slept that night in a strangely disjointed mix of concern for the feud with Marcus, excitement and nervousness about the coming confrontation with Sylvia’s dad, and tantalizing moments with my dreamland cowboy. My first impression, that life in tiny little Otis would be intolerably dull, was proving wide of the mark. My love life had gone from zero to one too many mighty quickly, and my list of active fights seemed about to follow.
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