WHICH SIDE ARE YOU ON?
(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with JOAN OF ARCADIA. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it.
(Author's Note: This story is part of a series that takes place in the period after the show ended. A listing of the other stories is on my profile. As far as this story is concerned, the major changes are that Joan and Adam are married and are freshmen at a small college; Adam is in on Joan's secret
(This story is set in November, 2006).
Chapter 1
Outside of Town
"Better enjoy the view while you can," said a sour voice.
Adam turned around in surprise. He was sitting on a fence that bordered a farm, a mile or so outside Baconia, and he was sketching the horses. It was November in Pennsylvania, and soon it would be too cold to do this sort of outside task – no matter how he bundled up, his hands would be either too cold or too restrained by gloves to do detail work. He wasn't sure how he was going to use the horses in an artwork, but Helen Girardi, his former art teacher and now his mother-in-law, had advised him to accumulate any image that intrigued him in a sketch-book so that it could be used later. He had only portrayed horses twice, and one didn't really count – he and Joan had been on a mission that involved getting the attention of a young equestrienne.
The sour voice belonged to Agnes Mertz, a girl with whom he had worked on a drama project the previous month. She had a rather combative personality, but Adam didn't let that bother him. He had had years of practice, dealing with Grace Polonski.
"My wife's picking me up in – let me see – less than half an hour," observed Adam, looking at his watch. "But I suppose that's not what you meant when you said 'while you can'."
"Nope. Haven't you heard the news? The real estate company that owns the land has decided to sell it to the Axme Corporation to build a factory on it."
"Too bad."
"Too bad? It's terrible!" Agnes started gesturing with her hands and her voice grew louder. "To start with, old Thompson will have to find somewhere else to pasture his horses, or get out of the horse-raising business altogether. He can't possibly outbid the Axme Corporation. But on a far deeper level, it'll ruin the atmosphere of the town. Pollution, traffic jams--."
Adam reflected that it would also create jobs, and leave the town less dependent on the university for all its employment. His father was what used to be called a blue-color worker, and Adam himself realized that he might sometimes have to get a day job, so he was sensitive to things like where jobs were. But he didn't want to argue, so he just kept quiet, as usual. "Mr. Thompson didn't tell me about that, when I asked permission to sketch his land."
"No, he's the stoic type. But I'm not. I want to fight this."
"But if the real estate company owns the land, I suppose there's not much anybody can do to stop the sale," observed Adam.
"Yeah. Still, there's a matter of public opinion. The real estate company is in town, and if we can organize enough opposition, they might back down."
She took a camera out of her pocket and snapped a picture of the horse pasture. "I'll show it around, try to show people what they're losing. Say, why don't you just photograph the scene and sketch it back home where it's warmer?"
"Photographs don't work well for me. Dunno why. I need something that appeals to all my senses – in this case, not just the sight of the horses, but the sound of the neighing, the feel of the wind, the sense of movement—"
"The smell of the dung."
"Um, yeah."
"There's something in that. A mere photo of the site may not work; but I have an idea for something more dramatic. I'm glad that I ran into you here; maybe you can--"
They were interrupted by the sound of the Roves' rented car approaching. Joan pulled off on the side of the road and got out. "Hi, Agnes. Not stealing my hubby, are you?"
"No, but I'm trying to recruit him."
"For what?"
"Let me explain." Agnes went into the story of the property sale and the factory again. Joan, in spite of her reputation for throwing herself into projects, seemed rather aloof and uninvolved. Of course the reputation was misleading; what Joan was really doing was going on missions for God. "Do you think Adam could help draw up a publicity poster?"
"Why ask me? It's up to Adam."
"Well, I was thinking of getting myself costumed – or rather uncostumed -- as Lady Godiva."
"What?!"
"Lady Godiva rode naked—"
"I know who Lady Godiva was! Isn't that a bit extreme?"
"Sex sells, doesn't it? Godiva is the original nude-protester. Every male on campus will want to stare at the poster, and then they'll read the message."
"That's not how the Godiva story went," said Adam, who had read a book of legends as inspiration for his art. "She didn't WANT to be seen; she had made a bet with her husband—"
"Yeah, yeah, that doesn't matter. But I can't ask Adam to draw me naked without running it by you, Joan. You're his wife."
"Um, let me think about it a while, OK?"
"OK. Now I better get back to my car; it's getting cold."
"All right, see you later." Agnes walked off, and the Roves stared at each other.
"It's been a weird day," said Adam. "I started off sketching a peaceful pastoral scene, and then a casual friends walks up and asks me to draw her au naturel for a local political campaign."
Joan giggled. "Didn't some famous pastoral paintings have naked women in them, pretending to be nymphs or goddesses or something?"
"Some, but that's not relevant. I'll just turn her down, Jane. I don't want to put you on the spot. It's not as if this was a mission from God —"
There was a sound of methodic hoofbeats from the pasture. Somebody was riding up. Adam turned to see an attractive and athletic young woman on a horse.
"Speak of the devil," said Joan.
The equestrienne laughed. "Not precisely."
"So you're –" Adam began, then hesitated, not wanting to give away the secret if this was an ordinary woman.
"Adam, meet Cowgirl God," said Joan. She did not bother to do the reverse introduction; God knew everybody. "I met Her here a couple of months ago, right on this spot. So, I presume You've come to tell us to help Agnes?"
"No," said God. "I want you to stop her campaign."
"You WANT them to build that factory?" asked Joan, confused.
"Let's just say that there are bad ripples involved." As always, God was vague.
"Can you give me a reason that I can give to her?"
"Not unless she understands foreknowledge of the future." Cowgirl God pulled on the reins with one hand to turn Her horse's head around, and waved with the other.
"Well, this will be easy," said Adam. "I'll just turn Agnes down, saying that sketching a friend naked would be too awkward."
Joan sighed. "Missions never turn out to be that easy."
TO BE CONTINUED