He doesn’t like others ordering me about but he is perfectly free to give me orders, she thought. Defiantly, she left the museum to stand outside in the cool shade of the porch. Brilliant fuchsia-colored blooms hung from a bougainvillea vine that draped one side of the porch. Suddenly she felt a wave of homesickness to be back at her desk with her books. What awful thing was this man planning for this afternoon?
“There you are,” he said from behind her. “Have you seen enough of this place? Let’s get something to eat. I’m hungry.”
“That seems to be the usual state with you. Tell me, Dr. Montgomery, how did you earn your Ph.D.? From out-eating the other students?”
He gave her a hostile look. “I impregnated all the female students and they gave me a doctorate to get rid of me.” He took her arm as she got in the car, then when he was seated he turned to her. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that you don’t ever talk about anything besides what’s in books. There’s a whole world out there,” he said, gesturing, “and I think you ought to see some of it.”
“I don’t know why you assume I’m stupid, Dr. Montgomery. I have seen enough of the world to know what it’s like. It is a dirty, angry place full of dirty, angry people.”
“And who told you that?”
“Taylor said—” she said, but stopped. “It is my own observation.”
“Right, and I’m Christopher Columbus,” he said, putting the car in gear. “You haven’t been outside that house long enough to know what the world is like.”
She knew that if the world was composed of people like him she most certainly didn’t want to see any more of it.
He stopped in front of a restaurant and came out a minute later laden with a big cardboard box that he strapped onto the back of the car between the spare tires and the gas tank.
“We’re going on a picnic,” he said, as if he dared her to contradict him, then slammed the car into gear and took off.
Another waste of time, she thought. She was going to be so far behind in her studies that Taylor was never going to marry her.
He drove through the countryside, toward the Sierra Nevada mountains, past farmhouses and orchards and planted fields toward a dense grove of trees. There was a pretty pond in the center of the trees and he parked the car in the shade nearby. It was an isolated place, made private by the circle of trees, only a cow path leading into it.
Amanda looked around and began trying to identify the wild flowers and the birds. If Taylor asked her what she had been studying, she could tell him.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Hank asked, removing the box from the back of the car. “They told me about it at the restaurant. Here, take the end of this.”
Amanda took the opposite end of the cloth he held. It hadn’t crossed her mind that the place was pretty, but it was. The grass was greener here than in the full sun and the water was blue and the buzz of the insects was pleasant and—She pulled herself together. She was going to act as if Taylor was with her, remember?
“Are we to sit on the damp ground?” she asked.
“No, on the dry cloth. A little dampness won’t hurt you. That’s what skin is for—to protect you.” He began to unload containers of food.
Amanda swore to herself that no matter what he brought out of that box she would not eat it. If she kept eating meals with him she’d get fat in a week, and Taylor would despise her. It took a great deal of self-control to watch the food being spread before her. There were strips of chicken breast in a golden sauce, cold roasted guinea hen, bread sticks, a grapefruit and endive salad, cold, seasoned boiled potatoes, sautéed eggplant, strawberries and tapioca, pretty little meringues, and candied almonds on top of a gorgeous chocolate cake. He poured glasses of lemonade from a big, frosty jar.
Amanda swallowed but turned her head away.
“Where do you want to start?” Hank asked, holding out a plate to her.
She took the plate, then put on it a small helping of potatoes and began to eat in tiny bites. She didn’t even take the lemonade because she knew it had sugar in it.
“That’s it?” Hank snapped at her.
She ignored his words and his tone. “Dr. Montgomery, could we discuss something less personal than my eating habits? Why don’t you tell me what has made you believe that there is any good to come of unions? Were your parents, perhaps, migrant workers?”
“No, they weren’t. Are you going to carry this subjugation of yours to the point where you don’t eat?”
She ate a tiny piece of potato, hoping her body would ignore the tantalizing aroma of the food before her. “I think you have me confused with your migrant workers. I’m one of the rich tyrants, remember? It is people like me who give them jobs and thereby cause them enormous amounts of pain and misery.” She kept looking at that chocolate cake. The icing was only on the top and dripping fatly down the sides, exposing seven layers of cake sandwiched together with thick, rich, dark chocolate cream.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hank said. “Have you ever been in the fields during harvest time? Did you know that a lot of farmers sell drinking water to the workers? A hundred and ten degrees and they can’t even get water.”
“I’m sure you must be exaggerating. Of course the workers could go elsewhere if they don’t like the way they’re treated. This is a free country, yet you make it sound as if they were slaves owned by their master.” She was looking at the cake, watching the way the light made the icing sparkle, and didn’t see Hank’s eyes turn dangerously dark. She was talking about the thing that meant most to him.
“It’s people like you,” he said softly, “that make a union necessary. The workers are simple people. They don’t have the education and resources to fall back on so they can change jobs on a whim. They have kids to feed and clothe and they can’t afford to quit a job. So they work in the heat and save a dime by not buying water and they faint from heat exhaustion.”
Amanda frowned at his words. She didn’t like to think of the picture he was painting. What would Taylor say? she asked herself. “I cannot be responsible for all the poverty in the world, Dr. Montgomery. My family merely offers jobs. If the workers do not like the conditions they can go to another ranch.”