“I don’t know. Being out of my comfort zone causes me to think about things I wouldn’t normally have time to think about. It’s as if my brain has room to turn over and look at things I never pay attention to in the routine at home.”
“Oh, no!” Joanne tapped the display behind the steering wheel. “I don’t believe this!”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“We’re almost out of gas.”
“How can that be? We’ve only been on the road for half an hour.”
“I didn’t pay attention to the gas gauge when we picked up the car, did you?” Joanne asked.
“No. Do you think they sent us out with less than a full tank?”
“Sure looks like it.”
I pulled out the map and tried to estimate the number of kilometers between us and the next village down the road. “We should turn around and go back. The next stop looks pretty small on this map, and who knows if they have a gas station.”
“Are you sure we have to go back?”
“To be safe, yes. We need to go back. Turn the car around.” My sense of supreme justice kicked in, and I hollered, “What a rip-off! Those guys are going to pay! We’re going back there, and we’re going to make sure they fill it right this time, and we’re going to get them to adjust our bill for time lost. This isn’t right. They shouldn’t be allowed to stay in business with such unethical practices.”
Two minutes earlier I was applauding my ability to stay focused and composed in the midst of uncertainty, but now I was ready to bite someone’s head off. When I get cranked up like this at home, Ethan usually takes on my grievance and makes sure that whatever wrong has come our way is righted.
My sister, however, laughed, as if she found my tirade entertaining.
“Why are you laughing? This is completely unfair!”
“Yes, it is.” She slowed to make a U-turn. “Much in life is unfair.”
Her flippant attitude bugged me.
“It’s okay.” Joanne raised her voice, as we were now heading west and facing a stronger headwind. “We discovered we need gas now rather than finding out in the middle of nowhere. Everything will work out okay, Mel. Relax. This is supposed to be a vacation for us, remember?”
“This isn’t my idea of a vacation. None of this has been relaxing since the very beginning. I wish we hadn’t come. I don’t care about the beachfront property or any of it.”
“Melanie, listen to yourself!”
“What?”
“Snap out of it!”
I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had talked to me like that. I also couldn’t think of anyone else from whom I would take such a rebuke. Even though I accepted her chiding, I still snapped back with a defensive, “I don’t like being taken advantage of, that’s all.”
“I don’t either,” Joanne said quickly. “But this is what it is. We can’t change the situation. We can only go from here. It’s not worth it to turn into a couple of crybabies. The world is full of injustice.”
“Okay. Fine.” I folded my arms and looked away from Joanne.
Our twenty-five-minute drive back into Ensenada was silent. I was struggling with the urge to pout or shout or maybe even get out to demonstrate to my sister how exasperated I was with all of this. But I stayed in my seat and kept silent. Joanne drove the speed limit, carefully made her way through the now-familiar intersections, and found the car rental place without any assistance from me.
“We need gas,” Joanne called out to the gold-toothed employee, who was standing in the driveway when we pulled in. “You sent us on our way without any gas.”
“No petrol?” the man asked.
“No,” I stated with a frown. “You gave us a car without any petrol. Where do we go to fill up the tank?”
He pointed to a filling station across the street. “Petrol.”
“Are you saying the gas isn’t included in the rental?”
He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“Come on,” Joanne said, backing up. “Let’s fill the tank and get out of here.”
It was so hard to hold my tongue and not to scream about how unfair this was, but I didn’t want to invite another scolding from my sister.
We filled the tank but wondered if the price was comparable to what we paid at home. I was too mentally exhausted to do calculations. Joanne already had steered the Jeep back onto the main street, pointing us out of town; this time without a blaring parade to lead us.
Not until we were nearly to the same place on Highway 3 where we had made the U-turn did we speak to each other again. Joanne was the one who ended the standoff.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more sensitive to you earlier.”
“That’s okay,” I mumbled. “I’m sure I overreacted.”
“Regardless, I don’t think I was sensitive to what you were feeling. I’d really like to hear what you’re going through with all this.”
“I don’t even know anymore. At first, I admit I was intrigued with the news of our inheritance. I mean, who wouldn’t want to inherit beachfront property? Then it seemed too much. Now we’re here, and I’m trying to keep it all balanced in my mind. I’m not brave like you, Joanne. I’m not an adventurer. This isn’t my idea of a dream vacation.”
Joanne nodded but didn’t add her usual cheery commentary.
“Why? What are you thinking?” I asked. “How does all this make you feel? You run toward dangerous experiences. This must be your idea of a dream come true.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s my dream.”
“At least we agree there,” I said.
“But I’m thinking this might be God’s dream for me.”
“Why do you keep saying stuff like that? What does that mean?”
Joanne glanced at me, her expression brimming with delight. “I don’t know if you’ll want to hear this, but I started praying something in January, after I read that line I told you about earlier how life is a romance when you say, ‘Speak, Lord.’ ”
“Was it one of those prayers for serenity or prosperity like Aunt Winnie has on cards around her home?”
“I don’t know. What kind of cards does Aunt Winnie have?”
“She sends money in to television programs, and they send her prayers on cards.”
“No, I’ve never seen the prayer I started to pray on a card,” Joanne said. “It’s not a formula or anything. It’s just something that happened in my heart. I thought about how I’ve spent so many years of my life setting goals and trying to be strategic about my plans.”
“That’s how we were raised,” I said. “I don’t see anything wrong with that approach to life. Look where you are now because of all your planning.”
“Yes, but I thought about how I’m forty-two years old, and all these years I’ve pursued my dreams, my goals. While I was praying one night, I wondered if maybe God had a few dreams for my life that hadn’t come true yet. So I prayed, ‘Father, may all Your dreams come true. I don’t want to get in the way or hinder You from fulfilling any of the plans You had for me when You dreamed me into being.’ ”
“You’re right,” I said. “I’ve never seen a prayer like that on one of Aunt Winnie’s laminated cards.”
“It’s not so unusual, really,” Joanne said. “It’s sort of a variation on the Lord’s Prayer. You know, ‘May Your kingdom come and Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.’ For me it was a significant turning point, though. It was a big step to surrender to God all my ideas of how I thought my life should be going.”
“Is that why you said earlier that surrender was a beautiful thing?”
Joanne nodded. “Letting go was the most freeing thing I’ve ever done. Ever since I began to pray that way, I can see more clearly how all the pieces fit together. Everything happens for a reason.”
“I agree with that,” I said.
We had been driving uphill for a number of miles, but now the road leveled out. The air was cooler than I expected. Joanne and I both had on light jac
kets, which we zipped up.
“I think everything happens for a reason, including our having to turn around and go back for gas.”
“And what do you think the reason is?”
“I’ve no idea.” Joanne shrugged contentedly.
She was beginning to remind me more and more of Aunt Winnie, and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
“I think that with any great romance, timing is everything. Living life in this great big romance with God has messed up my timing terribly, but I keep seeing how His timing is perfect. All kinds of amazing stuff keeps happening.”
Pointing to a herd of cattle grazing in an open field, I tried to redirect the conversation. “I thought from the picture in the tour book that we’d be driving through desert the whole time. This is pretty.”
“It is nice. Do you have the map handy? Isn’t there a small town up ahead?”
Checking the map, I told Joanne we were coming into a town called Ojos Negros. “Are you thinking of stopping?”
“If they have bottled water, I thought it might be a good idea for us to buy some.”
We drove on, the wind flapping our silly sombreros. I was relieved that Joanne didn’t return to the topic of how God was making all this “amazing stuff” happen in her life. Part of me was feeling a little edgy about her ethereal romance. Was it a big cover-up for her not having an earthly romance? Another part of me was curious to hear about the guy at work she was trying to get away from. If she didn’t have a romance with him, why was she eager to move away from him?
Approaching the question cautiously, I asked, “Joanne, what’s the story on the guy from work?”
She paused, as if thinking about where to start. I knew a polite friend would say, “You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to.” But I wasn’t her polite friend; I was her sister. I wanted to hear everything. Besides, I hadn’t exactly accumulated any polite points during the previous two hours; why should I start now?
“It’s just a work situation that’s become a little complicated,” Joanne began. “The man is one of the administrators at the clinic where I teach. About six months ago, one of the students came to me and said he was making advances toward her. I had to file reports and work through a whole counseling process for the student.”
“Is it settled yet?”
“Not exactly. After three months of my working with her and going through the tangle of paperwork and meetings, the student said she had made up the incident and dropped all the charges.”
“Did she make it up?”
“Who knows? She withdrew from the course, and I was left with an administrator who still won’t speak to me because he says I should have had more discernment. He said my skills are in question, if I’m not able to accurately evaluate a student’s accusations.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“I know. I personally have doubts about the administrator’s character, but I don’t have proof about anything. Now you can see why I’m considering other job options. Moving to Vancouver is certainly at the top of the list.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that, but as I said last night, I’d love it if you moved to BC.”
“The job situation has been fairly aggravating,” Joanne said. “But through it all I feel as if I’m protected under an umbrella of God’s grace.” She tapped the edge of her broad hat. “Or maybe I should say I’m under a sombrero of God’s grace. He’s protecting me from the elements, so to speak.”
I was fed up with Joanne’s turning every topic into a spiritual lesson. Unfortunately, I couldn’t shake from my thoughts the concept she just conveyed about God’s protecting her from the elements.
In my mind, God had always been the major “element” of life to watch out for, not to hide under. I thought that as long as I didn’t do anything really wrong, God would be happy with me. I grew up making sure I didn’t bother Him unless I needed something important.
Just like I felt toward Dad when we were growing up.
Rolling down the road, in the middle of Baja California, I realized for the first time in my life that I viewed God, my heavenly Father, the same way I viewed my earthly father. The relationship was adequate; I had no complaints. At the same time, I couldn’t say I had a deep and special love for God the way Joanne did. I didn’t have any desire to ask God if He had unfulfilled dreams for me. The risk was too great. What if His answer was yes, and those dreams weren’t my idea of a good dream?
You know, it’s going to be dark soon.” I said to Joanne, looking in the rearview mirror to gauge how much time we had before the sunlight evaporated behind us.
“Are you tired of driving?” Joanne yawned and looked around.
I’d only been behind the wheel for a little over an hour and wasn’t tired yet. Joanne drove the first hour and a half of our trek. Our sombreros had come off when I started to drive and the sun moved behind us instead of over us.
The road had been fairly easy to navigate, but every so often we would hit a portion that was in need of repair, and I’d have to slow down and carefully swerve around potholes big enough for a pig to fall into them.
I told Joanne I didn’t mind driving. “I just wish we had more daylight left. I’m not looking forward to the unknown road conditions ahead. Who knows what it will be like to drive in the dark?”
“How far do you think we are?” Joanne asked.
“More than halfway, I’m sure. Maybe three-fourths. It sure has taken longer than I thought it would.”
“I know. It’s getting chilly. Are you hungry?”
“Yes. Are you? We should have stocked up on supplies before hitting the road,” I said.
When we had approached the town of Ojos Negros earlier, we passed a small store that advertised on the outside of the building it carried beer and cigarettes. We briefly discussed if we should stop to buy bottled water but agreed that we weren’t dying of thirst, so we kept driving.
“We have cake.” Joanne turned around in the passenger seat and reached into the back, fumbling under the Mexican blanket to pull out the pastry box with the remains of our decorated cake.
“Wow!” she suddenly called out. “What a gorgeous sunset. Can you pull off the road, Mel? We can eat our cake and watch the sun go down.”
I put on my turn signal, even though we hadn’t seen another car for the past ten minutes. The side of the road was narrow and sandy, so I stopped mostly in the middle of a level stretch of highway and put on the emergency flashers. I hoped no one would come roaring out of nowhere and run into us.
A moment after I had that thought, a Volkswagen beetle with a tall antenna sticking out the back sputtered past us going in the opposite direction. I guessed we must be close to the area where the tour book mentioned the popular off-road races because that was the second car we had seen that looked like it could do some serious hill climbing and desert driving.
Joanne pulled the smashed cake box out of the back and opened it to view the less-than-stellar-looking prize cake. “I’m sure it will still taste good.”
“It’s food.” I got out of the car and stretched my legs. I loved the dry, fresh air and drew in a deep breath. A hint of sage and something that reminded me of eucalyptus floated in the air. I was so used to moist, chilled air that this contrasting atmosphere was invigorating.
Handing me the open cake box, Joanne said, “After you.”
I took a pinch of cake and dropped it into my mouth. “Still tastes good.”
“Just look at the peach colors in those clouds against the pale blue sky.” Joanne leaned against the back of the Jeep. “It’s so gorgeous! What’s that old saying? ‘Red sky at night, sailors’ delight’?”
“Only we’re not sailing with the rest of the ship,” I reminded her. “They’re probably pulling up anchor right about now. I hope we’re doing the right thing, driving to San Felipe like this.” I broke off another wedge of the gooey cake and let it melt on my tongue.
“I wish I’d brought
a camera with me,” Joanne said. “This would be a moment to remember. Chocolate cake at sunset in the middle of nowhere. Fabulous. Absolutely fabulous. If we were on the ship right now, we wouldn’t have had this experience.”
“True.” I reached into the backseat for my coat. “It’s going to get cold fast. I’m glad we have the Mexican blankets and our winter coats.”
“We’ll be okay,” Joanne said. “Look at those colors, will you? Incredible.”
While I noticed that the peach and blue had deepened to orange and periwinkle, in the distance we heard a faint howling.
“Did that sound like a coyote to you?” I moved closer to Joanne.
“It sure did. We probably shouldn’t be standing around like this with food,” she said. “Are you ready to go?”
I was about to say yes when I heard another sound coming toward us. It was the sound of a sputtering car, not a wild animal. I guessed this would be another off-road vehicle coming from the opposite direction of the one that had passed us a few moments earlier.
“We should get in,” I told Joanne. “Just in case they don’t see us in the twilight and run into the back of our Jeep.”
Joanne squinted into the sunset to see the car. “They have their lights on. They should be able to see us. No, wait. Their lights just went out. No, they’re back on. Do you think they’re trying to signal us? Are they blinking at us?”
“I don’t know.” I jumped into the driver’s seat. “But let’s not stand here waiting to find out. Come on!”
As soon as Joanne closed her door, I said, “I’ll wait until they pass us, and then I’ll pull back on the road.”
The gray Volkswagen beetle with a long antenna continued to blink its headlights at us. As we waited, it sputtered to a halt only a hundred yards or so behind us. The driver turned off the engine, and the only sound Joanne and I heard was a rattling of metal upon metal, as if pieces of silverware were being tossed at a spinning fan.
“We should see if they need help,” Joanne said. “It sounds as if their engine isn’t cooperating.”
“That’s not a good idea, Joanne. You are far too trusting of strangers. We can drive to the next village and try to alert someone of the problem, but we shouldn’t stay here and wait for trouble to overtake us.”