A Most Unusual Passage
Copyright© 2026 by J&J
Chapter 38
I walked outside with Martha, wanting desperately to talk to her, but for the life of me, I didn’t know where to begin. She seemed to understand, and just walked alongside, took my hand and waited for me to speak. Together we walked over to what she called “Marcus’ favorite bench” and sat down. The last golden glow of sunset was just lighting the top of the sagebrush, lending that elegant color the high prairie otherwise lacked.
Finally, Martha said in a gentle teasing way, “I believe having a talk actually requires us to talk. And in this case, I think you’re going to have to start, because I don’t know what we’re talking about, do I?”
I turned to her with tears in my eyes. “That’s just it, Martha; I don’t know either. I just know the something’s terribly wrong, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
She put her arm around my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “Let me see if I can help you here. You’re feeling lost, as though you don’t have roots anywhere. It seems like there’s no one in the world to whom you’re really special, or who is really special to you. You don’t know where home is any more. You don’t know who your friends are. And you don’t know what your life is about. So you feel just sort of adrift. Does that more or less sum it up?”
It was like she was living in my brain. Somehow she had put it into words, and I just nodded. That’s exactly how I felt at the moment, adrift, pointless, and with no idea where I was going or why. And a few weeks ago, I thought I had my life in complete control. I looked at this kindly older woman and saw that she seemed to know a lot more about what was going on than I did, so I just turned to her and asked, “What happened?”
She smiled at me gently and reassuringly. “Oh, nothing’s as bad as it feels. You’re going through what I always thought of as an unscheduled station stop. The worst kind, when the conductor taps you on the shoulder in the middle of the night, and suddenly, you’re on the platform in a strange station in the middle of nowhere.”
I stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know,” she said. “Let me explain. People always talk about life as though it were just one continuous event from beginning to end, but it’s not. Life is made up of a series of individual ... well, I like to think of them as journeys. At the end of each, you come to a stop, and it’s a little like changing trains. You go off in a new direction with a different set of companions. Take college, for example. For four years or so, you set off with a certain group of people, all heading in the same direction. You know one day you’ll come to a stop and all go off in different directions with different people. But that’s a planned stop, so it’s usually pretty exciting. The rough ones are unplanned. One minute you’re traveling with people you know, and life’s your oyster. Next thing you know, you’re sitting on your butt with your suitcase on the platform in a town called Otis.”
It was such a perfect metaphor for what had happened; in fact, for how life works. I found myself laughing and feeling better. “All right,” I said, “I’m sitting on my ass on the imaginary platform in Otis, Colorado, with a suitcase in hand. What do I do about it?”
Martha took my hands in hers and said, “Simple, really. Just quit worrying about it. Have faith in yourself, and it will all turn out fine.”
I think my face betrayed my disappointment at this useless platitude. Martha saw it and let loose with a good hearty laugh. “Come on, Elizabeth, you know me better than that. I’m not going to blow you off with tish tosh, and everything is dandy. I mean it quite literally. It’s true at the moment you’re sort of between homes; you’re completely on your own, and I can see it could all feel pretty scary.”
“Martha,” I began. “Somewhere in here you’re going to cheer me up, right?”
“Getting to the cheering up part now. I only said why you might feel bad; it’s just one point of view. Let’s look at it a different way. At this moment in time, you, Elizabeth Manigault, are enjoying freedom you’ve never had before and will probably never have again. At this moment, you can carry everything you own in that cute little SUV. You are young, beautiful, full of energy and very intelligent. You can go anywhere you want to go and do anything you want to do. Right now, you feel an empty spot because there is no one you’re involved with, but that also means there’s no one holding you back. Enjoy that freedom, Elizabeth. It’s a precious thing, and you won’t be able to hang on to it for long.”
“Why not hang on to it, if you say it’s so precious?”
“Because for a woman, perfect freedom usually also means perfect loneliness, and for many of us, it’s too high a price. We feel more complete when we have someone to love and to love us.”
“But where is home for me?”
“Let me share a story I read a while ago. Back in the Civil War, a general wanting to impress Lincoln with his soldierly zeal, sent his dispatches marked “headquarters in the saddle.” Old Abe, not so easily impressed, merely remarked “The good general seems to have his headquarters where his hindquarters ought to be.” The point is, besides the fact I just like the story, you are a beautiful 29-year-old single gal, footloose and fancy free; I think home is wherever your pretty little hindquarters happen to be. And if you find that place boring, then just pack up your hindquarters, and try somewhere else. That’s what freedom is all about.”
“But the job; I’m under contract.”
“Fuck the job, Elizabeth; do you really think they would do anything to you, after the way you were treated? You could leave here tonight, and I promise you nothing would happen to damage your career or reputation. For one thing, Fancy and I would make damn sure of it.”
I looked at her very strangely. “Why are you telling me this? Do you think I should leave? Do you want me to leave?”
“Of course not, Elizabeth, I think you’re a great asset to the school and the community, and I would personally miss you very much. And I honestly believe this is a good job for you, and you will find it rewarding. I just want you to know you’re not trapped. You have a choice, and if you stay, it should be your decision. But remember, the longer you stay, the harder it is to leave. The longer you stay, the more likely you are to get entangled with someone.”
She looked at me rather curiously on this last line. I colored slightly. “Yes, about that...”
She smiled slightly. “I wondered about that. Maybe too late all ready?”
I blushed and looked down at the ground. “I feel so stupid; we haven’t even been on a date yet. And it’s not like I’m some timid virgin with her first big crush. But there is something different when I’m with Roger. It’s kind of nice, but it’s kind of scary, too. It’s not sex, or I should say, it’s not just sex. God knows, he’s hot enough, and I’m horny enough. But that was true with Rusty, too. It’s something more than that. Every time I see him, and I see those blue eyes, it’s suddenly as though there’s no air in the room and I can’t catch my breath. When you rang the dinner bell, I was about one micro milli mini second away from kissing him, and my lips are still tingling. I’m almost afraid to see him again. I might just throw...”
“Whoa there, gal,” she laughed. “Doesn’t the term ‘hard-to-get’ mean anything to you? You know you’ve got to slow down, and let him think he’s caught you. It makes them feel good or something. Like me Tarzan, you Jane!”
We both had a good laugh. I waited a moment; then I asked her very seriously, “I really mean it, Martha; did anyone ever make you feel like that, and what does it mean?”
She looked at me, and she wasn’t laughing anymore either. “Yes, I have felt that before with Marcus, and you know it signaled the beginning of a lifetime of happiness with him.” She sat silently, looking at me for a moment as though making a decision. “I felt it one other time, too, and it was maybe the right person, but the wrong circumstances, the wrong time and the wrong place, and it broke my heart.”
I saw a tear in her eye, and I asked gently, “Do you want to tell me about this?”
“No, dear, I’ve already said more than I’ve ever said to anyone else, and I don’t intend to ever speak of it again. It’s just one of those secrets women tend to tuck away inside their hearts. You’ll have a few there yourself, by the time you’re my age. Secrets we hide away for the sake of those we love.”
“Does Marcus know?”
She shook her head and spoke so quietly I almost didn’t hear her, “No, and he never will. It’s the lesser of the two secrets he must never know.”
It was dark now, and we watched the moon play with the clouds, and the moonbeams play across the prairie. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. I think she was remembering whoever was in her secret. I was contemplating how two people could be so close for so many years and still have such secrets.
Finally she broke the silence with a question. “Elizabeth, you’re 29; is your clock ticking? Is this about having a family?”
“I think it may be, or it’s in there somewhere. I think about it a lot. I used to think my career would be enough, and children would be nice but not essential. Now I’m not sure. You’re a mother. If I miss this experience, have I missed a really big part of life?”
“Let me answer this way. If it’s something you want to do, really want to do, then yes, it’s the greatest experience, the greatest fulfillment of your entire life. If you’re not sure; if you’re doing it for someone else, or because you think it’s something you should do, then it’s just a lot of pain and misery and a big messy inconvenience. I used to walk around and feel our baby kicking inside my belly, and I just wanted to cry for Marcus, because he wanted a child as much as I did, and yet he could never experience the incredible feeling of a human being forming inside your body.”
I sat there, just trying to imagine what it would be like, and realizing that if you hadn’t experienced it, you probably couldn’t. “Did you breastfeed?”
Martha nodded, and I saw her eyes go a little misty. “It wasn’t stylish or popular then, but I knew it had to be better for the baby. I’m glad I did, for my sake as well. Another of life’s great experiences: being able to hold your infant child to your breast and to nurture and sustain life from your own body. I have never before or since felt quite so sure about who I was and what I was doing here, as I did in those moments when I suckled my children.”
I sighed wistfully. “I do dream about it, but I am also young and vain enough to think my biggest fear is stretch marks.”
“If you don’t want stretch marks, you do what the strippers do. If they get stretch marks, their career is finished. The secret is gallons and gallons of cocoa butter. It works; I came through with nary a single stretch mark.”
I laughed, “Then my question is, how do you know any strippers?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised, but I do know one retired exotic dancer; in fact, you know her, too.”
“Oh my God, who?”
“Sorry, that’s her secret. It’s up to her whom she tells. And that’s, of course, if you don’t count a couple of us who tried our hand many years ago at amateur night in San Francisco.”
I stared at her like she had a third head. “You’re kidding ... No, you’re not. I can’t believe this. What was it like?”
“Rather good fun, from what I can remember. There was a lot of alcohol involved. But I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, and to have a bunch of guys going nuts and throwing money at me was kind of ego-gratifying.”
“Is that another little secret from Marcus?”
“Sort of. It’s the kind of thing I couldn’t tell him myself, but I always hoped he would find out, because I think it would make him a little proud.”
“If I could just be sure my life would turn out as happy as yours, I guess I wouldn’t worry. But I don’t know how you get it all together. I mean, how do you get the perfect man, the perfect job and the perfect location?”
Martha laughed, “I doubt that anyone ever did, dear. And I don’t know that it’s really necessary. I guess one advantage of having a career and a family is, as one friend of mine put it, at least if the career sucks but the home life’s pretty good, you feel pretty good. And if the home life sucks, but the career’s doing pretty well; that’s okay, too. I think location is the least important, if you get the rest right.”
“That’s okay for you to say, because you and Marcus both love the high prairie around here. But what if Roger and I do have something special? He will never leave here. I may never be able to stand it here. So if I take a chance and fall in love, it may be just a setup for a broken heart. The smart thing would be to keep our distance, so nobody gets hurt, until I decide if I can learn to love this desert scrubland or whatever it is.”
“I don’t suppose it would do any good to suggest that if Roger is someone very special to you, it really doesn’t matter?”
I looked at her very skeptically. “You mean like love conquers all. I am a big girl now, Martha. I don’t believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny or that all you need is love. I wish life was that simple, but it just isn’t.”
“It’s getting pretty late, and I guess we better go in,” Martha said. “Marcus will be wondering what happened to us.”
I nodded, got up and started walking towards the house. I was almost halfway there, before I realized Martha wasn’t with me. I turned around and saw that she was still sitting in the same place. She looked up and motioned me to come back. Without saying a word, she just patted the seat beside her, and I sat down. I could tell she was wrestling with herself, but finally, she sighed deeply, and without looking at me, she spoke.
“Earlier this evening, I hinted at my second biggest secret. And while I never want to have to explain it to Marcus, I know our relationship would survive. But now, I think I need to tell you; you realize I am trusting you like a sister.”
I nodded. “Are you sure this is something you want to tell me?”
“Yes, because you have missed a major point. You really believe I have been happy here, because I love this place, and I love Marcus.”
“I don’t understand; haven’t you been happy here?”
She smiled. “Yes, I’ve been very happy here. But I love this place because it makes Marcus happy. When I first came here with Marcus, he never knew I hated it. I didn’t like the high prairie. I didn’t like small towns. I didn’t much care for farming, except for riding horses. But I worked hard to make my peace with this place, because I knew this is where Marcus wanted to be, where he belonged.
I tried to see this place through his eyes, his brain and his heart, and I failed. Although I learned to appreciate and value it through his eyes, I have never been able to see the beauty or feel his love for this stark place.
I tried to see it through my eyes and brain and also failed, because this place left my spirit untouched. But I finally saw it with my heart as the place that I shared with Marcus, and then I saw the beauty and knew I would be nowhere else, at least as long as we are here together.
It would kill him to know how I feel, and he never will. He has made arrangements to be sure I would be able to keep the farm, if he passes on before me. The truth is, I would hand the keys to George at the cemetery, and leave here the next day, because without Marcus, there’s nothing for me here.”
“I’m not sure I understand how you can truly love a place because of a person.”
“No? Aren’t you very close to your father?”
“Extremely. I’ve always said we’re as close as a father and daughter can be and not get weird.”
“Is there a room in the house that’s strictly his?”
“Sure, his study. He’s a history professor at the Citadel, so he has this dark wood paneled library with red leather furniture and wonderful paintings of old sailing ships. It smells of leather and pipe smoke and old books.”
“Do you like his study?”
“I always have. I’m the only other member of the family who ever goes in there. Sometimes when he was on a trip and I missed him, I would curl up in his big desk chair, and it was like he was holding me. It’s a place I go to feel safe and loved.”
“Are you going to decorate one of the rooms in your house in that style?”
“Don’t be ridiculous; it’s horrible. It’s dark, pretentious, old- fashioned and totally masculine. I only love it because it’s ... Okay, Professor Martel, I get the point. I love the room because I feel my dad in it, not because of the room itself.”
“It’s on a small scale, but the same idea. Different people can love the same place for different reasons. One reason can be the people there or even a particular person there.”
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