CHAPTER 5

WILLA

“We’re here,” Billy Bob declared as he slowed and prepared to turn into a gravel driveway.

We pulled into a large acreage, and my heart almost stopped. Right at the driveway entrance was a beautiful reddish-brown horse that reminded me of my childhood horse, Little Red. I almost threw my neck out of place whipping around to look at her as we drove up the driveway. She began to canter up the drive behind us, following us to the house and buildings.

“What’s the matter?” Billy Bob asked with a smile as we drifted past her.

“That horse back there reminds me of Little Red, my horse I had growing up.”

“That’s Ginger,” Billy Bob said as he stopped.  “I’d really like to set you up with her because I saw the similarities between Little Red and Ginger in that photo.” Billy Bob paused and frowned.

“I detect a ‘but’ coming,” I told him with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Billy Bob lamented. “Ginger is pretty feisty, even for an experienced rider.”

“I’m experienced,” I declared.

“When’s the last time you rode?”

“When I was 14,” I replied mildly.

“How long ago was that?”

“You know, it’s not polite to ask a woman her age.”

“I didn’t. I asked how long since you’ve ridden.”

“If you can do basic math, you just did ask how old I am.”

“Okay, okay,” Billy Bob smiled as he made a stop gesture with his hand. “No offense, but I’m going to guess it’s been several years since you were 14.”

“It’s been 12,” I admitted.

“Oh, so you’re 26,” he said with a grin.

“I am. I’d ask your age, but I don’t want to be rude.”

 “Yes, that would be.”

“I already know. You’re 23.”

“Ha,” Billy Bob bellowed. “Some psychic! You were probably basing your assumption off of Lyle, but I’m eight months younger than he is. I was the baby of our class. I’m still 22.”

“You must have been a big baby,” I giggled. “And Zella’s the psychic, not me.”

“Do you really believe she’s psychic?” he asked with an air of concern.

I shrugged. Zella did have amazing intuition, and an ability to read people. Yet she also confided to me tricks she used to, for lack of a better description, gain peoples trust. Or you might also say, deceive. “Her customers seem satisfied. I don’t know of anyone asking her for their money back.”

 Billy Bob shook his head and emitted a little snort. Then he gave me a little heads up about our hosts. “The Manning’s are really good people. But they’re an extreme case of opposites attract. Ella is a little bit like a happy hippie, yet very religious. Hayden is an old-time redneck and crusty with a colorful vocabulary. You should be all right with that, though. He’s got a strong admiration for attractive women.”

“So, how can this Ella be both a hippie and religious?” I asked. “Aren’t hippies all about sex, drugs, and rock and roll? You know, sky clad, free love and all that?”

“Oh no,” Billy Bob replied, shaking his head. “What I meant when I said she was hippie-like, I meant she was really laid back, into nature, quick with hugs. I guess I meant hippie as a first impression. Ella would call sex, drugs, and rock and roll an unholy trinity.”

“Sex, drugs, and rock and roll are good things to some of us,” I replied. “I mean, I believe in the free love the hippies of the sixties advocated.”

“Your love is far from free,” Billy Bob said sternly. “It isn’t actually love either.”

“Correct,” I replied. “I bring men pleasure and I’m rewarded handsomely. Loves got nothing to do with it, period.”

“You got that right,” Billy Bob said with disgust in his voice. “This culture today so often confuses lust with love and love with lust.”

“What’s wrong with lust?” I said. “Acting on it brings pleasure, and pleasure brings happiness. Love only seems to bring heart ache. Given what you hired me for, you should know about that.”

“How would you know if you’ve never been in love?”

“Billy Bob, let’s not go down this road again,” I whined.

To my surprise, Billy Bob grinned from ear to ear and patted me on my knee. “You’re absolutely right,” he declared happily. “Let’s go horse around.”

A woman in her 60s or 70s wearing a long, flowing dark green summer dress emerged from a modest ranch house with a big smile on her face. She had long, wavy honey-blonde hair mingled with grey that drifted all the way down her back. She was followed by a hunched-over man that reminded me of a retired drill sergeant. A bulldog was at his heels, and it was definitely a case of a pet resembling its owner.

“William!” the woman shouted with spread arms as she hugged Billy Bob like a long-lost son.

“How are you, Ella?” he inquired as he hugged her back like a long-lost mother. “This is Willa. She’s a friend of mine.”

“Hi, Willa,” Ella beamed before I received my own tight embrace from a woman I had only known for a few seconds. Can you say awkward? It was more contact with me than I allowed my clients to have.

“So nice to meet you,” she beamed after we separated from the embrace. Then she waved a hand at the curmudgeon. “This is my husband, Hayden.”

“How do, young lady?” Hayden drawled as he carefully shook my hand and then nodded once at Billy Bob.

“We have to run,” Ella chirped. “But obviously you know where everything is, Willie Wonka. Nice to meet you, Willa. Have fun!”

“We will,” I replied with a happy smile, made easy by the name she called Billy Bob. “Nice to meet both of you.”

“Same here,” Hayden grunted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hayden wiggle his bushy eyebrows at Billy Bob and shoot him a thumbs-up.

“Willie Wonka?” I repeated with a laugh after the older couple left us.

“Forget you heard that,” he said with a grin. “Being called Billy Bob is bad enough.”

“What? I can’t call you Willie Wonka?” I grinned. “How about Billy Bonka?”

“That’s even worse,” he laughed. “But as far as our horses, are you okay riding someone besides Ginger? I’d just soon not make a trip to the hospital today. I’m sure you’re a good rider, but even the best of us can get rusty after a decade of not riding.”

It struck me that he referred to a horse as someone, as if they were a person. “Yeah, I’m fine with that,” I replied congenially. “To be honest, I admit that I’ll probably be rusty after so many years. When we first got here, I was just waxing sentimental about Ginger looking like my Little Red. That’s all.”

“Funny you should say rusty,” Billy Bob grinned. “I’d like to set you up with a horse named Rusty. He’s an older gelding that likes people and loves to go riding.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I agreed.

Billy Bob and I proceeded to ride horses around the Mannings’ 30-something acres of mostly sparse woods, and we had a fantastic time. How had I gone so long without riding? It brought such peace to my soul. We didn’t converse much at all. Billy Bob let me just ride and enjoy the moment; I loved him for that. Even though it was mostly wordless, we did get to know each other in small, subtle ways.

Billy Bob simply saw how much I loved horses and riding them as he watched me. In turn, I saw how in tune Billy Bob was with nature. He was so at ease with his horse and looked so tranquil gazing around at the beautiful scenes of creation. I watched him talk softly to his horse and recalled Zella’s unusual inquiry and subsequent revelation about Billy Bob and her dog Free. I felt stirrings for Billy Bob that were unfamiliar to me. It felt weird, and I didn’t like it at all. Yet I loved it. So many contradictions in life! What was I getting myself into?

“What do I owe you?” Billy Bob said when he dropped me off at home.

“For what?” I frowned.

“For today,” he replied. “I didn’t keep track of the time.”

My mind froze. On the phone, as soon as he said horseback riding, I actually would have paid him instead of him me. “I had a blast today, Billy Bob,” I finally said. “I have no intention of charging you.”

“What if we would have gone for coffee instead?” he asked with a little smirk.

“Then I would have charged you,” I said, giving him a gentle punch on his upper arm. “Like I said, I had an absolute blast today. Thank you so very much.”

“Well, since you’re not charging me, would you want to go again?”

“You mean it?” I blurted spontaneously, and then felt like a silly teenage girl.

“Yeah, I told you I can go riding out there as often as I want to. So we can go any time you want to. I mean other than when I have to work or go to church.”

“I’d love that!”

“So when do you want to go again?”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” he asked with a frown.

“You said any time.”

“Yeah… I guess I could swing it.”

The next two weeks were the best stretch of days of my adulthood. In the pauses between riding, Billy Bob and I had in-depth, meaningful conversation, mostly about spirituality. I was cynical and mocking, but surprisingly, Billy Bob usually agreed or at least sympathized. Still, he always came up with convincing counterpoints, usually citing scriptures that went in one of my ears and out the other. Initially, I wasn’t very good soil for seeds of truth. I needed a lot of watering.

Without realizing it, I had become very attached to Billy Bob. I had fancied myself above getting too close to anyone romantically. I was a confirmed loner. Yet after my first couple of outings with Billy Bob, I experienced something that was foreign to me. After we parted ways, I began to feel something like loss and emptiness. With every parting, this feeling of loneliness and longing intensified.

I didn’t want the bliss to end, but it was about to climax with the wedding. I began to hope beyond hope that the wedding might be some type of romantic beginning for Billy Bob and me. We had developed such a rapport that I was feeling like we were actually a couple. I felt like the wedding date was going to somehow make what relationship we had begun permanent. I was on cloud nine with this dream. But it was about to become cloud nothing.

The irony wasn’t beyond me. I had rejected countless guys in my life. My looks alone would have probably caused all the guys I turned away to tolerate any high maintenance. Not that I’m high maintenance… I don’t think anyway…  But then finally, the one guy I truly wanted rejected me.