Choices

By Ruth White

Ted Wyatt and Kelly Trent make choices that determine the direction their lives will take. Ted wants to marry and start a family; Kelly wants to leave ranch life behind. They seem to have complementary needs--but do they? Or are they headed for frustration and non-fulfillment?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468595987

Ruth White

Ruth White was born and raised in the 1940s and 1950s in and around the coal-mining town of Whitewood, Virginia. "My fondest memories are of playing in the hills and creeks, and of family read-alouds, which we had almost every day. Before I started school, I knew that I would be a writer someday, and I never wavered from that goal. What I did not know was that I would be writing about those days in which I was living. I had visions of stories involving princesses and swashbuckling heroes, lovesick cowgirls and faraway places with strange-sounding names. It was only after I grew up and away from the Appalachian region that I realized what a wealth of unique story material I had stored up in my memories during those early years, and therein lay my greatest asset as a writer." "My sisters and I were not only avid readers but also great mimics. We had no television, but we had the movie theaters close by, and we were privileged to see the latest movies from Hollywood, which we would later act out to one another. We would write down all the lines we could remember from a good movie and learn them for our own entertainment. We also picked up every song that came along and developed a remarkable repertoire of folk, country, blue-grass, spiritual, and popular music. To this day we know the words to thousands of forgotten songs. We are a wealth of music trivia! I often use the lyrics of some of these songs in my books." "Upon graduation from high school, I had a rare opportunity to go to college. It was almost as if the fates took over for me at this point and manipulated me right into a good education and preparation for a future career. There was a beautiful little college down in North Carolina called Montreat, which I still dream about and think of sometimes with a feeling much like homesickness. Going there was a turning point of my life. It lifted me out of the only life I had ever known and introduced me to a wider world. From there I went on to Pfeiffer College, married, had a child, and settled down to being a mother and teacher." "But the memories of the hills did not leave me. They did, in fact, haunt me, so that I began writing down some of those memories, and from these writings my novels sprouted, took root, and grew like living plants. They have gone through many revisions, on paper as well as in my mind, but what they represent for me is a record not only of my past but of the Appalachian region." "It is important to me that the children of today read these books and feel they can escape for just a little while into another place and time which once was very real. I want them not only to enjoy my stories and my particular style but also to feel what I used to feel when I was in the habit of reading every book I could find -- 'This feels right. I love this. Someday I will write books like this.' " Ruth White holds Bachelor of Arts degrees in English and Library Science. She worked in schools as both a teacher and a librarian in North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia before moving to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where she writes full time.

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Choices

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Ruth White

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AuthorHouse™

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© 2012 by Ruth White. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/07/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-9597-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-9598-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012907543

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Choices

Wyoming

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Epilogue

Dedication

To all who make choices and live with the outcome.

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Acknowledgments

My heartfelt thanks to:

Colin Keeney, Senior Lecturer, University of Wyoming, for correcting my faulty remembrances and inaccurate concepts, as well as giving needed encouragement.

Michael Donovan, retired professor of biology, for his voice of Dr. Gilhoot, editing advice and belief this book could be written.

Audrie Clifford, Joan Torres, Karla Moore, Joan Rogers, and Priscilla Cora, Writers’ Group, for support and encouragement.

Fred White, my son, for the inspiration that started this story.

DeeDee and Dinks, the real Jazz and Sarge of the story, who demonstrate the faithfulness and acceptance of dogs.

Beverly Junger for her photograph and her computer skill without which there would be a manuscript, but no book.

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Choices

The choices we make shape our lives. Almost from birth, we have made choices: to eat our strained carrots or spit them out, to play with our blocks or use the crayon to make pretty pictures on the wall.

More conscious choices came later: to cheat on a test, or refrain from looking at someone else’s paper—to step in and help someone being bullied or stay safely out of the situation.

Some choices were not serious; to wear the red dress/tie or the blue, to choose the salad or the caloric cheese dish.

But some choices mean, as Robert Frost said, choosing a road seldom taken. Take the job or go to college? Accept the marriage proposal or seek a different life style? Those choices lead to other options. Which of several schools or jobs offers the best option? Often choices are made by operating on blind faith, not knowing the outcome. Have chemotherapy or not? Even when we seek the advice of others, the final decision must be ours to make.

The choices we make determine the way our lives will progress. Once determined, there is no going back to the road not taken; our choices make all the difference.

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Wyoming

The raucous shriek of a siren caused Professor Theodore Wyatt to look in his rear view mirror and see the red flashing light of a highway patrol car. How fast had he been going? He had been so enamored with the beauty of the wide open Wyoming spaces, the clear blue of the sky, he hadn’t kept an eye on the speedometer. He shifted gears as his SUV coasted to the side of the highway.

A highway patrolman approached; the brim on his hat shaded his eyes and the upper part of his face. Only his nose and thin, set lips forming a straight, tight line were visible. As he strode purposefully to the car, Ted fumbled in the glove box for car registration and insurance papers. He handed these with his license to the patrolman who took them in thick, calloused hands and took his time to look over the documents before surveying the contents of the SUV: boxes and luggage stacked to the roof.

California plates and license, the patrolman observed rubbing the back of his neck. You moving here or passing through?

Moving—to Laramie, Ted said.

Umhum, well we expect our citizens to obey our laws, including maintaining a safe speed. The voice was gravelly. He returned Ted’s license, registration and insurance papers. I’ll give you a warning this time, but be more mindful in the future.

Thank you, Ted said, relieved. He would hate to start his new life with a traffic ticket.

Pulling cautiously off the shoulder, he drove a few miles farther, then pulled his vehicle off the highway at the summit, between Cheyenne and Laramie. He got out to stretch for it had been a long drive from Los Angeles, especially since he chose a longer route through Arizona to stop briefly to see his mother. He breathed in the cool, clean air, a radical change from the gas fumes he was used to inhaling, and admired the vast space around him, uncluttered by smog, concrete or buildings. Big, wide Wyoming!

He admired the highest point of the old Lincoln Highway, now I-80. A monument with the head of Abraham Lincoln on a pedestal of rough cut stone and a plaque that explained it was to honor the 150th anniversary of Lincoln’s birth, marked the spot. Seemed a strange place for Lincoln to be honored, but maybe it had something to do with freedom. Not of the slaves, but freedom to live a life unfettered by the confines of civilized society.

Ted was sloughing off that civilized society that meant people consumed by how they looked, how impressive their material possessions, whom they knew and who knew them. Even his car was a testimony to that. He had had a little sports car in California which was fun to drive along the ocean, but was mechanically unreliable and would never hold all his worldly goods: his sound equipment, books, clothes and skis, all of which were now jammed to the roof of his SUV. He was moving from graduate student, now with a newly earned PhD, to his first job as a professor and was both excited and apprehensive. Rolling his shoulders to remove the tension of the long drive, he got in the SUV and drove back onto the highway. Just a few more miles to Laramie and the new life.

He had arranged for an apartment near the University of Wyoming, and found it easily for the streets were laid out in a sensible grid pattern. The key was under the welcome mat where the rental agent had said it would be. Ted grinned at how trusting the agent was and how safe the environment because when he went inside, all the promised furniture was there as well as sinks, fixtures, and copper tubing. In Los Angeles, all would have been removed and turned into money for drugs in seconds of leaving an apartment accessible with a hidden key.

The apartment had the closed-up smell of a place uninhabited for the summer. It was an efficiency—basically one room—the kitchen with stove, refrigerator, sink, was open to the large room and was separated by a waist-high counter. There were stools at the counter and a table which Ted would push to the sole window and use as a desk. A Murphy bed folded out of the wall. Two arm chairs of muddy brown color and a tan couch completed the furnishings. A small bathroom was off the living space as well as a large walk-in closet. Ted hoped for this living arrangement, which was clean but quite Spartan, to be temporary. For too many years he had been living like a gypsy. He hoped his job would be lasting and that he could buy a house and make more of a home.

He was too tired to do more than move things out of his car to the inside. He would unpack and arrange things tomorrow. When he went outside, he was surprised at how cool the temperature had become. Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore, he thought, and Ted you’re not in California anymore either. He gathered his luggage and dug around for a sweater.

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2

Kelly flipped the course catalogue away from her in disgust. It landed with a plop on the floor. This is ridiculous! I can’t find anything I want to spend time listening to for a semester by a rusty, old professor. Why should French majors have to take a science class anyway?

Her roommate, Delpha, looked over the top of the book she was reading. It’s called getting a broad education. That’s the main difference between going to a vocational school where you only have to learn a special skill, and attending a university to become well-rounded.

I feel like my education has been pretty broad already, Kelly retorted.

You should have taken that science course with your core courses early on. You’ve left it until the last and now you’ve got to choose something to fulfill your graduation requirements.

Kelly regarded her room-mate. Always so correct. They were known as the twins on their hall in the dormitory. They did resemble each other in appearance: five feet six, slim, similar coloring with long, dark hair worn in a ponytail, hazel-eyed with oval faces and bright smiles. Both were athletic. Kelly was a champion barrel racer and team roper, while Delpha excelled at synchronized swimming and ballet. But their life styles before college had been very different. Delpha grew up in Denver, in a wealthy family that enjoyed the theater, art showings, exotic vacation trips, a second home in Aspen where they went to ski, and she had attended a private high school. Kelly’s parents owned a large ranch, drove pickup trucks with guns on a rack in the back of the cab, and raised lots of cattle. They attended Jubilee Days in Laramie and the rodeo at Frontier Days, The Daddy of ’Em All in Cheyenne, as the pinnacle of vacation travel.

Delpha was the more sensible, often reigning in Kelly who tended to reflect on her actions after the fact, if at all.

Kelly sighed. You’re right. I have to find something, but everything looks like it will require too much time with labs and too much homework.

If you just want to have some eye-candy, take Geology 1101. I understand the new professor teaching it is very easy on the eyes. I don’t know how his lectures are, or how stiffly he grades, but I heard he is young and very good looking.

Kelly bent and retrieved the course catalogue. What course, and what did you say his name is?

Dr. Theodore Wyatt.

Kelly read the course description: Physical Geology studies modern concepts of the earth’s physical makeup including minerals and rocks, topography, crustal structure, plate tectonics and processes and forces acting on and within the earth. She rolled her eyes and sighed. I guess I can handle a study of rocks.

Yeah, Rocks for Jocks, Delpha laughed.

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3

Ted Wyatt looked at the boxes stacked haphazardly. The course syllabus he had worked so hard on must be in one of the boxes, but which one? He nudged a box with his foot. He didn’t have time to go through everything, but in the madness of packing to move he had—at the last—grown desperate and thrown things in wherever they would fit.

Nothing to do but start opening boxes. He sighed when the fourth box he opened held the syllabus, notes for his class and other items he would find useful for his first teaching assignment since earning his PhD.

Taking the job at the University of Wyoming had been a no-brainer. He had been hesitant during his first job interview conducted at a convention in Chicago.

When he was invited to the Wyoming campus for a second interview, meaning he was on the short list, he was pleased, and when he had a chance to view the campus and surroundings, he was elated. The campus was beautiful with lots of green space, he liked the collegial people he met in the geology department, and was impressed by the University of Wyoming Geological Museum which houses the most complete skeleton of the predator Allosaurus as well as one of only five full Brontosaurus skeletons in the world. There was a chance of getting tenure in five years, and the students he met seemed dedicated. As he surveyed the surrounding unspoiled landscape with the opportunity to hike and climb, to ride horses, to ski in the winter, he was sold. To live in a state that has the fewest people within its borders was appealing. Laramie was a small town and he knew he would miss the night life he had grown accustomed to while in graduate school in California. But Denver was only a two hour drive away, and Ft. Collins, only an hour. He did wonder about the availability of women his age. He sure couldn’t date students and he feared that many young women who wanted to follow a career would move to a city with more options than Laramie.

Not to worry about that now. He had to get to the university, find his classroom and get to work.

Kelly found the room for Geology 1101 on the second floor of the Classroom Building. She chose a seat in the front row of the lecture hall. Her father had advised her that to succeed in her classes, she should sit in the front row where she could make eye contact with the professor and nod in agreement at his comments. She should also be sure he knew her name. The strategy had worked pretty well so far. Now, in her last year, she had a good chance of graduating with honors—if this pesky geology class didn’t spoil her record.

She watched a handsome man wearing a crisp white shirt and navy and red striped tie approach the lectern and spread papers in front of him. Wow! Delpha had heard correctly. This guy, who looked too young to be a professor, was a hunk! He obviously worked out for his physique was lean and muscular with broad shoulders and tapered waist. She figured he was at least six feet tall. A cowlick kept his brown hair from lying close to his scalp and added to his youthful look. His forehead was broad, nose straight, jaw firm and lips full. His complexion was outdoors-ruddy. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. This class might not be so awful after all, Kelly decided.

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4

Professor Ted Wyatt shuffled his notes as he surreptitiously took stock of the students who were filing in quietly. The lecture hall would hold 75-100 students though his class list showed only 40 assigned to his class. Most of these kids must come from ranches, he thought, as he noted the sturdy build of both the men and women and their sun-bronzed skin. The women seemed about as broad shouldered as the guys and he just bet they could wrestle a calf to the ground to help with branding. The room was well-lit and seats looked moderately comfortable. He hoped the seats were not so comfortable as to be conducive to nodding off. Most students were filling in the middle rows, some scattering in the back. The first three rows were almost vacant except for a classy looking young woman in the first row. Unlike the other women who wore jeans, she wore a skirt, with the hem riding up and exposing some very nice looking legs. Her scoop-neck orange tee shirt did not hide cleavage. She was smiling at him exposing very even, very white teeth. Now there was one to watch out for. She could be trouble!

Heeding her father’s advice to let your professor know who you are, after class Kelly approached Professor Wyatt as he shuffled together papers on the lectern. Professor, I’m Kelly Trent, she said favoring him with her most dazzling smile. He looked up as though startled and she saw that his eyes were smoky grey. This guy is as gorgeous as rumored, she thought. I may enjoy this class.

Yes, Ms. Trent, he said in an abstracted manner, Can I help you with something?

She licked her lips in what she thought was a seductive gesture. Oh, no, I just wanted you to know who I am and I do look forward to your class.

He nodded as he stuffed papers into his briefcase. Thank you. He turned, not wishing to engage Kelly in further conversation.

Back in her dorm room, Kelly dropped her books on her bed. Her unmade bed. She saw absolutely no purpose in making a bed when you were just going to get into it and mess it up again. Same thing with clothes. Why hang them