Ashleigh's Dilemma (2 page)

The second time Ashleigh beheld Patrick she found him standing on her front porch. She had answered the door to his insistent pressing of the bell.

“Oh, it's you...”

She stepped out on the porch so he would not enter the house. The screen door clicked shut behind her making her jump and inwardly cringe. She crossed her arms over her chest. She held herself tightly as if she might be cold.

“
You asked me to bring the bill when I’m done, Mrs. McCrae...”

“It's Miss... I'm not married.”

“Oh, okay, then... Miss McCrae... Ashleigh? May I call you Ashleigh?”

“Yes, yes, it's Ashleigh.”

“I had to charge you a bit more than what I said. You probably noticed we dug out the stump and leveled it out back there for you. I had to bring in a couple of yards of soil. That's the difference in the cost.”

“Yes, yes, it looks good.”

“Okay, well... here you go... “He handed her the bill. “I could plant another tree in the space left behind, if you like?”

She took the bill from him and unfolded it.
It was higher than she thought; any tree work is expensive, she'd heard, and, indeed, this was not cheap.

“I really liked that tree,” she said still examining the bill.

“It doesn't have to be another pine – something prettier perhaps, like a flowering Magnolia – they’re nice, we'd put it off to the right a bit... not in the same spot. We'd put a big enough one in so in a couple of years you'd have a real nice tree there.”

Ashleigh glared at him. She was bristling at his inference that the “pretty tree” would be more appropriate
. It was the first time she had really looked at him. He had a tanned and lean face and his hair cropped shot, military style. He appeared very fit and had a casual and relaxed bearing. The surprising part was his eyes – she searched for the word...
bright
, she decided. Ashleigh was not at all class conscious, but she did not suffer fools well, no matter who they might be; but this man was no fool, she could see that right away. He was watching her carefully, she noticed; he was studying her reaction to him.

“I would prefer another pine, thank you – we could do that, maybe.”

He seemed pleased. “Good... I have a preference for pines and spruce myself. It will be under three hundred, and it will be guaranteed, of course. It won't be a little seedling, either; it will be at least as tall as you.”

Ashleigh nodded her acceptance.
“Fine. Good. I'll put a check in the mail right away for this and wait to see the bill for the new tree.”

“Sounds good...” He was
looking past her into the house. She leaned to the side to block his view, but he again leaned past her.

“...That's an
Emily Carr,
isn't it?”

Ashleigh glanced back over her shoulder to the print she ha
d had just recently framed and that she had hung in the entrance. She shrugged and said, bristling, irritated by his forwardness, “If you say so...”

“Well, I've always been partial to Emily Carr... I'm a West Coaster...
Vancouver Island. I guess you were there?”

“I went to Victoria last year. I liked the print and bought it. It reminded me of the place – very beautiful.”

She immediately cringed as she added that. She had not meant to. She was letting him, this stranger, see and know too much about her. God knows he could be some kind of pervert... you never know.

“The old growth
,” he added, following the expression on her face as it shifted back and forth.

“Yes...” she replied, not able to stop
herself from responding; “I had never stood in an old growth forest before – very impressive.” She turned to step back into the house. Her hand was already on the handle.

He quickly added,
turning her back to him but her hand remaining on the handle, “It is like a cathedral, arching above, and encompassing life within.” She thought he was quoting someone but didn't know whom it could be. He continued, shrugging, smiling with his memory of it, and explaining, “I once spent a lot of time in those exact forests. Every time I'd get a chance, I'd hike up along the coast. It is the land of the
Haida, the Tlingt, and the Tsimshian.
” The names of the west coast Native American tribes effortlessly rolled off his tongue. 

S
he shrugged, again turning away not knowing what he meant and not caring.

He again held her back.
“You know you can still find their totem along the rocky shoreline, many about ready to topple over, heavily weathered, bleached almost white, but still staring out over the sound or inlet. It makes one think. What are they looking at? What are they looking for?”

“Are you asking me? I mean, how would I know? I have no way of knowing! Maybe if
I had been born one of those
Tinglet's
I might be able to provide an answer, but as it is I have no clue!”

Patrick was caugh
t off guard with her directness and the force of her response. She had begun with cutting ice and ended with a smile that had lifted but quickly dissolved. Of course, she was right; if he didn't know, how could she?

“The question was rhet
orical,” he replied watching her carefully, wondering about her. “I wasn’t expecting you to provide an answer. The mystery is that no one knows, only the creator of the original totem.” He noticed the rising color in her face. He wondered if she might be embarrassed but couldn’t immediately think of a reason why she should be.

She nodded, and again mollifying, offered,
her voice steady, gentler, “I stayed in Vancouver, mostly; with a few days in Victoria:
Stanley Park
, the
Bouchard Gardens
, that sort of thing.”

“Did you do any hiking?”

“I did walk around a bit on
Grouse Mountain
... I went up on the gondola. I stood in the very middle, as far away from the windows as possible. I couldn't look out. I hate heights. I have this fear of heights... But I do love to hike, particularly in beautiful places like that. The heights – I just put up with them and stay as far back as I can... sometimes that's not always possible, though,” and she grimaced, but then broke into an apologetic smile as if she felt she needed to apologize for her fear.

Patrick smiled, “You'd get over it if you went out more,” he suggested.

“Yes, I love to hike but I just don't have anyone to go with half the time, so I don’t go out that often.” 

Too late, she realized her mistake.

“Well, you just found someone!”

“I can't go on a hike with you!” she quickly interjected, near panic.

“Why not?”

“I don't even know you! I can't... no!”

Patrick raised his hands, palms up, to calm her. “Okay then... lunch... We can do lunch, sometime this week. You can get to know me, and then we'll … go from there.”

Ashleigh backed up into her house. “I don't think so... ”She opened the screened
door, stepped inside, and closed it between them.

“Why not?
It's just lunch... How can that hurt? You work at the Lab, right?”

“Yes.”

“There's a
Subway
just outside the gate. We can meet there. You'll discover I'm not such a bad guy and I'll tell you about all the trails there are around here. I've hiked them all.”

“Well, I... “

“Wednesday, then?”

“Well, I guess...

“Great!”

“No wait! Wednesday is no good! I have meeting...”

“Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday?” he asked, laughing as the intent he'd had all along became clear - he could have, after all, simply mailed her the invoice. She would realize that when she thought back on it.

“Friday... Friday... Friday is probably the best...” She was as red as she'd ever been. All she could think about was shutting the door and having this “interview” end. If agreeing to go out to lunch would end it, then so be it; she could make her excuses later.

He started back down the steps but turned back. “I'm really looking forward to it... Noon hour, Friday, the
Subway
, right?”

Ashleigh nodded
; the door was already half closed.

“
Great! See you then... Bye!” 

She cringed, “Bye...” and
shut the door, flinching with the fact she'd sent it home a little too forcefully.

Their first lunch was, as many first dates are, an awkward affair. Ashleigh was late because, as she explained later, a meeting went on a little longer than had been planned. Patrick stood outside the
Subway
but after ten minutes returned to his truck to wait. He had emailed her that morning to confirm their date and she'd emailed him right back acknowledging she'd be there; although, as he read her response carefully, she could have added, “but without bells and whistles on” - in other words, her lack of enthusiasm practically leapt off the electronic page. He imagined it was because she was nervous and he was right about that. Ashleigh was, indeed, nervous; and because she was nervous, she had lingered a little longer than she should have even though the meeting had ended and people were just milling about.

She finally arrived fifteen minutes late. Patrick greeted her with his best
smile. He wasn't annoyed at all; he was just a bit concerned he'd been stood up. Ashleigh acknowledged him with a curt nod and with her eyes averted. He could sense the tension in her but couldn’t understand why. It was in every sinew of her. She mumbled something about the meeting going late but didn't otherwise apologize. They each ordered, paid for their own, and found a table.

“So...” Patrick began; “How do you like me so far?”

Ashleigh glanced at him but didn't reply; a barely perceptible shrug was all she offered. Patrick had meant to be humorous but she didn’t seem to get it. Her mind had been racing to catch up and she had not quite fathomed his meaning until it was too late to smile. Later, as she lay in bed replaying their conversation over in her mind, she would blush for not picking up on it.

They entered into their first real conversation.

“First things first,” Patrick began; “I'm not married. Are you?”

“No.”

“Good; well then, we may proceed...”

It was another attempt at humor; but, again, Ashleigh forgot to smile. She simply nodded her acknowledgment as she opened her sandwich and began to scrap off a thick layer of mayonnaise with her napkin. “I hate it when they add too much;” she scowled; “I did tell them!”

“Do you want my sandwich? ...No sauce?”

“No thank you - and that's gross; it's yours.”

It was Patrick's turn to shrug.

They began to eat. “Okay, let me start,” Patrick began again.
He took a bite as Ashleigh did. He chewed carefully, swallowed, and watched her do the same.

“I am Patrick Douglas Gunn, born in Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe; I am forty two years old, unmarried, no ch
ildren… that I know of.”

A
gain, Ashleigh didn't smile even though, once again, he was obviously using humor to help her relax. She knew she appeared stiff and cold but couldn’t help it. She blushed deeply, embarrassed. He noticed and was puzzled by it.

She said, “That's why you have that accent.”

“Yes... do you like it?”

“I...” Ashleigh stammered, and then for the first time smiled and, shaking her head, emphasized, “It's just an accent! I, I have no opinion!”

Patrick laughed and again noticed how she turned red as she spoke. He liked it - and continued, “Our family emigrated from Rhodesia when Rhodesia became Zimbabwe, around 1980 or so. We immigrated to Canada. . I was seventeen years old at the time – too young for service…. Thank God, my father said.”

“You're only on
e year older than me.” Ashleigh injected, stopping him.

“Okay... good... that's another good thing. I may be not as old as you think... not an old man after all; just a bit weathered. You, on the other hand - I said it before and I'll say it again - look much younger.”

At this, Ashleigh neither blushed nor otherwise acknowledged the compliment; she instead took another bite from her sandwich. Over time, she had become immune to compliments. Many were slung her way. She assumed they were patronizing and found it more convenient to ignore them.

“I'm not trying to win your favor by praising your appearance,” Patrick added, knowing he was making no headway at all; “It is simply a matter of fact.”

Ashleigh acknowledged his efforts with a curt nod and took another bite of her sandwich.

“You don't seem to have seen much sun; your skin is perfectly clear, like an English girl's.”

“I don't... spend much time in the sun. When I do, I'm extra careful.”

“That's good - a
nd not like me. I've been burnt to crisp under the African sun, over and over again... Canadian sun too... and now the Maryland sun.”