Rachel got a late start. It was Jane's day off, and the two of them talked more about Finn and Brian over breakfast. She didn't leave Waterton until 10 AM, and, once entering the United States, took US Route 287 south, towards Helena, Montana. The weather worsened the closer to Helena she got—there were very heavy thunderstorms, which slowed her progress. To make matters worse, a chunk of rock the size of her fist flew off a truck she was passing and damaged her windshield wiper and windshield. She limped into Helena at 3PM, and found it would take the rest of the afternoon to get the repairs done.
She wanted to scream in frustration. Resting in the service department waiting area proved impossible, so she spent some time in an internet café nearby, venting to Tom and Kurt. Even though she hadn't taken any naps, when the car was ready at 6PM, she decided to push through as far as she could. Only 5 hours to go, anyway. Or so she thought. A very bad accident due to the weather delayed her even further. Finally, in resignation, she pulled off the road where some trucks had gathered, near the Montana/Idaho border at 10 PM, in pouring rain, and decided to get a couple of hours sleep.
She woke up one-and-one-half hours later. Not only did she feel refreshed, the weather had now cleared, and the entire landscape was bathed in the pale light of a beautiful gibbous moon.
Tom had taken her once to a Leonard Cohen concert. At one point Cohen recited a passage from his novel Beautiful Losers, and when he spoke the line, "God is alive. Magic is afoot," Rachel felt chills. It was so easy to feel that here as well, high up among these silent, brooding peaks, under the ghostly, crystalline light. It was otherworldly, ripe with the sense that anything could happen.
Rachel crossed the border at midnight, and noticed a trailer parked off the road, with bright lights and a sign that said "Free Coffee for Travelers". Just what the doctor ordered, she thought. There was an opening in the side of the trailer, with a counter. An older man, in his 60's, smiled at her. A gasoline-powered generator whined in the background.
"Good evening, young lady," he said. Her acting class experience told her he had an English accent, East London, probably Cockney. He must have lived here for some time, because it had softened somewhat, making it difficult to actually identify.
"Good evening! " Rachel beamed. "I love your idea for travelers! I'd like one coffee, please, black."
"Thank you, Miss, "the man said, and poured the coffee from what looked like a home coffee maker. "Could I interest you in one of my wife's pastries for a small donation? We use the donations to fund the coffee." It was difficult for Rachel, being so short, to see, so the man presented a tray of what looked like delicious fruit Danish.
"Of course, Mr…"
"Just call me Fred, " he said. He was slight looking, wiry, with gray hair and brown eyes.
"I'm Rachel, " she said selecting an apricot Danish that looked particularly delectable. She placed a twenty-dollar bill in the jar labeled "donations".
"That's very generous of you, Rachel," Fred said, "That will keep a lot of travelers awake!" Then Rachel noticed him studying her.
"Pardon me for saying so, but you look very familiar."
Rachel beamed.
"Well, I am a Broadway actress," she told him, and she saw a flash of recognition on Fred's face.
"You were on the Tony awards last week on the telly!" She nodded, still smiling.
Fred looked over his shoulder.
"Hey Phyl, come up front! We have a celebrity! "
A plump woman, with fair skin, dark hair, and kind, twinkling blue eyes appeared.
"Oh my!" she gushed. "You're Rachel Berry! We saw you on the telly last week!" Her accent was more conventionally English.
"This is my wife, Phyllis" Fred said.
"I'm so pleased to meet you," Rachel said, and took a bite of her Danish. "This is delicious! "
It suddenly occurred to her that Fred and Phyllis were the first people to recognize her as a Tony award winner. She had always imagined being mobbed by fans, and asked for autographs, and in a more limited sense, this had come true, with the show and the crowds waiting outside. But to be recognized here, more than halfway across the country, in such a remote place, by two generous people, that was so much cooler.
Phyllis smiled shyly.
"Thank you," she said. Then she leaned over the counter. "Are you still looking for that special man?"
"I think I've found him," Rachel said, excitedly. "I'll probably be seeing him tomorrow!"
The couple smiled at her.
"So glad to hear that", Fred said, arm around Phyllis, "There is nothing like finding the right person."
They had been to New York only once, when they emigrated, back in the 1970's. Rachel took their names and addresses down, and gave them her number.
"When you are in New York again, please let me know, and I'll arrange for tickets to any show I'm in. You do such marvelous work, here! "
They beamed back at her. "Go find that young man," Phyllis ordered.
She drove on feeling wonderful. "Thank you, Finn", she said out loud, "for that moment." Magic was, indeed, afoot.
The road hugged the mountains that formed the western border of Yellowstone National Park, and as she continued to drive south, Rachel remembered to play Finn's Dylan CD. The moon had yet to set, its light still falling on those mountains, and the sounds of the road created a hypnotic setting for the music itself. Gradually, so subtly that she barely noticed, the tether began to filter the lyrics of the songs for her, weaving the snippets from different songs into a single tapestry as meaningful as the one at Bayeux.
There was Joan Baez's crystalline, impossibly pure voice:
My love she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn't have to say she's faithful
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire
Then Rod Stewart, from one of Dylan's prettiest love songs:
Ah but only if my own true love is waitin'
Yes and if I could hear her heart softly poundin'
Only if she were lying by me
Would I rest in my bed once again
Dylan himself, from what Jane called Finn's favorite song of his:
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind
And another verse, that particularly resonated to her, from that awful, searing moment on the train platform:
Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
She felt him feeling the tether like she did, chafing at the heart, ruining sleep:
How can I explain?
Oh, it's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn
And this, a song about a woman about to embark on a voyage, who asks her lover what gift he would like her to send him from her destination, to which he replies:
No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true love
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean.
Rachel wept. Oh, how she had felt that way, exactly, for so long, hoping against hope that her Finn, the core of him that she loved, would come back to her intact.
And, finally, a man trying to talk himself out of love:
Most of the time my head is on straight
Most of the time I'm strong enough not to hate
I don't build up illusion 'til it makes me sick
I ain't afraid of confusion no matter how thick
I can smile in the face of mankind
Don't even remember what her lips felt like on mine
Most of the time.
There was another song, but the tether gave her no clue about it that night. She let the CD end as the road curved east, and she reached the summit of Teton Pass.
Rachel stopped the car and, got out, stretching her legs. Below her, in the peaceful moonlight, lay the expanse of Jackson Hole Valley. She prayed he was asleep down there, free of dreams.
A/N: A transitional chapter.
Many thanks to my parents, Phyllis and Fred, for making an appearance. You may no longer be of this world, but you remain well-loved.
The lyrics are from the following songs by Bob Dylan, respectively:
Love Minus Zero/No Limit
Tomorrow Is Such A Long Time
Visions of Johanna
Boots of Spanish Leather
Most of The Time