Jean slipped out of her bed just as it was starting to get light. After taking care of morning necessities, she donned her clothes, and crept out of the cabin. She didn't think anyone else at the lodge was awake, yet.
She stopped briefly at the road in front of the lodge, - bringing up old memories - then turned to the left. She walked along the road for maybe a quarter-mile, saw the expected (well, hoped for) sign pointing out the trail to Murphy's Falls. She took the trail. She expected to hear the sound of falling water soon after she left the road, and she wasn't disappointed. Another twist of the trail, and she could see the falls. She could also see a man standing in front of them. Now, she felt vaguely disappointed. Well, she was here, so...
The rushing water covered the sounds of her approach, and she was almost to his side before he realized he wasn't alone. He looked down (well, just a little bit - she was fairly tall), and saw a woman in jeans and strong-looking hiking boots. The next thing that registered was a face almost completely covered by very large, very round, dark-rimmed glasses. He immediately thought of a little owl - well, a cute little owl, but, honestly, nobody really needed glasses that large, did they?
"Are you from the lodge?" she asked.
"I am," he replied. "You being out so early, I suspect you are, too."
She nodded. "I didn't expect to find anybody here - certainly not this early. I think I always had it to myself, on other early mornings."
"You've been here before?"
"Well, quite a while back. My family would come camping here every few years. I must have been about fifteen last time..."
"So, two or three years ago?" he interrupted.
She gave him a very serious owlish look through her giant glasses. Apparently she was not one to be bantered with. "You are in serious need of glasses," she said. Then, she smiled, very un-owlishly. "But thanks. I like the idea.
"As I started to say, we'd camp here every few years, and I'd come up here by myself, almost every morning. I don't think I ever saw another soul."
"Sorry to disappoint."
"No, you're okay, I think. So, how do you happen to be here so early in the morning? Have you been here, before?"
"No. Brochure."
"Brochure?"
"In the lodge. Points of local interest. This was one of the closest, and I think the only 'point' you could walk to."
"Okay. So, you're a morning person, just out for an early walk?"
"Well, yes to the last, but no to the first. I'm not really a 'morning person,' as you put it. I was just awake early, wrestling with a problem, and I decided to get moving, to think about it on my feet."
"And I always say two heads are better than one to figure it out." Jean didn't say this, she actually sang it to him.
Clearly, he didn't understand.
"Well, that's what Julie said to Billy, when he was wrestling with a problem. Maybe you could try out your story on me?"
He still looked a little confused. "Thanks for the offer, but my questions are pretty technical."
"Well, Billy's were pretty big." Here, she started to sing, in a low, male-like voice. "At times like these, I get to wondering what life is all about." She stopped. "The meaning of life is pretty technical, isn't it?"
He shook his head. His little owl was nuts. Interesting, but nuts. "Yes, the meaning of life is fairly technical, but in a different way than my problem. Mine is a little more mundane, and not quite so broad, but it's still a toughie.
"I guess I should explain. I'm a chemist, and I'm really stuck on a particular aspect of a pharmaceutical I'm working on. It's really, really complicated."
"Well, Julie thought she might be useful in figuring out the meaning of life."
He had to laugh, but it was a good laugh. "Okay, if you can answer one chemical question, then I'll tell you about mine. Fair?"
"Sure. Ask away."
"All right. I have a product that combines three surfactants - anionic, nonionic, and amphoteric - with water, and a protease."
She only paused a moment. "Were you thinking of Dawn or Ajax? They say Dawn is very good for cleaning oil off baby ducks."
He thought his jaw must have dropped for a moment. She smiled at him. "I know NaCl and H2O, too" He looked even more confused. "Okay, I confess I guessed. I sort of knew the word 'surfactant' - a grease cutter, right? Put that with water, and... So, okay, here's one for you, Mr. Chemist. Can you name all the ingredients of baking soda?"
Now, he really stared at her. "Is that a trick question? Baking soda is just baking soda - pure bicarbonate of soda."
"I know. It was just the first chemical thing that popped into my head."
"So, no trick question?"
She shook her head. "However, now that you know how smart I am, shall we sit on that nice little bench over there, while you tell me your problem? Be as technical - as complicated - as you need to be. Don't talk to me; talk to yourself, and present the whole thing to yourself in the terms you will understand best. Then, when you're all finished, I'll tell you what you need to know."
He really didn't know what was going on, but..."What the hell. Let's sit down, and get this over with."
He did just what she suggested. He presented his case to himself - argued with himself, aloud - restated his case - argued some more. She sat quietly beside him for well over a half-hour, before he finally stopped talking. He glanced at her. She looked back at him.
"Well, I think I only understood about five words in everything you said. The important thing is that you understood, and had actually solved your problem about fifteen minutes ago. I could almost see the little wheels turning in your brain. Congratulations!"
He laughed. "I did solve it - or, maybe you did! I'm not sure what happened. What did you do?"
"Me? I guess I was what you call in chemist-talk, the catalyst. You had all the ingredients ready to go. You just needed something to start the process going. Enter me, girl catalyst."
"It worked amazingly well. Forgive me for doubting you. I think you might be able to get to the meaning of life, too!"
Soon, they started back to the lodge - not saying much, but both quite content. About the time they reached the trail junction with the road, he expressed a concern he had.
"I'm not sure about Julie and Billy - how they fit into this. Are they friends of yours?"
She looked to see if he was kidding her. He didn't seem to be. "Julie Jordan, and Billy Bigelow?"
He looked at her, blankly.
"'Carousel?' Rodgers and Hammerstein?" Broadway musical?"
"I guess I don't get it. Are you saying that two fictional characters in a play helped solve my problem?"
"I am. Does it matter?"
They looked at one another, and started to laugh. "I guess not," he shrugged.
***
They were still serving breakfast at the lodge. Jean made a quick trip to her cabin, then met him for eggs, sausage and pancakes. They finally got around to introducing themselves.
"I'm Jean Borner. My mother is quite a rose gardener, and she couldn't resist." When he didn't seem to understand, she explained. "I was named after a famous hybridizer of roses. It's actually Gene - G. E. N. E. - and Boerner, with two 'ers', and he was a man, not a woman. But other than those few differences... Well, that's my mother for you. Actually, I like my name quite a bit, and I love the little pink, multiflora Gene Boerner roses, too.
"So, what did your parents do to you?"
"Knowing my dad, he probably just said 'give the kid a name, and let's go home.' I'm just Chris Newland - not named for roses, or anything or anybody else. Actually, I consider myself extremely lucky. Dad loves the funny papers the way Mom loves her garden. My sister and I could have ended up as 'Dagwood and Blondie,' or maybe 'Hi and Lois'."
"Or 'Mutt and Jeff?'"
He laughed. "As I said, I consider myself lucky."
They talked a bit more about his work. Chris was employed by a pharmaceutical company, and all his work was on medicines - no pesticides or weapons of war. He liked it a lot. "Much of the time, I don't see a particular product where I can identify my own handiwork, but we've put out some really good medicines, and I'm in there, somewhere."
Jean, it turned out, was in the final throes of completing her Doctoral thesis in political science. It covered the relationships of "Originalism" to the American Constitution, the way most students understood it. She thought she had made some points that no one else had made, but she was having trouble coming up with a compelling summary statement. This brief vacation had been planned to help her clear her head, and get her on the right track. She was very glad to have helped Chris with his issue, but she didn't seem to have accomplished much for herself.
As they were finishing up their breakfast, the briefness of her vacation became clear to Chris. "I hate to eat and run, as the old saying goes, but I have a meeting this afternoon. It's about my thesis, so it seems wise that I show up."
"It does seem a good idea."
He walked with her to her car. "I had a really wonderful time this morning," she said.
"As did I," he replied. "Perhaps we'll see each other, again."
"Perhaps we will."
They held hands briefly. She got in her car, and was soon gone out of sight.
Chris made pretty good use of the rest of his day. He took another short hike, got most of his thoughts from the morning spelled out on his computer, and visited with some of the lodge guests in the evening. Still, he felt a little deflated. He wasn't unhappy to leave the next morning, to return to work.
***
Over the next 24 hours, Chris couldn't seem to get Julie and Billy out of his head. He didn't know much about musicals - probably evident in his not recognizing the names "Carousel," Rodgers, or Hammerstein the previous day - but now he wanted to see the movie. It was too old to be playing in local theaters, and wasn't on any of the tv movie channels. He finally purchased a DVD of one of the movie versions. He watched it all the way through, then watched it again. He didn't care much for Billy. It seemed odd to him that, even after all the trouble, Julie seemed to like him just fine. Well...
He found him returning again and again to what the reviewers called "The Bench Scene." In it, Julie and Billy - who had just met - sat side-by-side, and pondered how it might be if they loved one another. Julie started, explaining how she thought she'd be if she loved him.
"But you don't."
"No, I don't. But somehow I can see just exactly how I'd be, if I loved you."
She sang her explanation, then it was Billy's turn to imagine things - if he loved her.
"But you don't."
"No, I don't, but... " It was a nice scene, with great music and clever interactions. Somewhere around the third or fourth time he watched it, he seemed to be seeing a different couple sitting side-by-side on a bench - not Billy and Julie, anymore. Even though it was fairly late, he called the phone number Jean had given him.
"Chris, what a nice surprise. I've been thinking about you."
"I've been thinking about you, too. I can't get you out of my head."
"Oh, dear! Is there something I can do to help?"
"I was thinking more about me helping you. I am positive if we sat side-by-side on a bench, somewhere, and you talked out your thesis problem like you had me talk out my issue, then when you finished, I would be able to tell you exactly what you need to hear."
There was a short silence on her end of the line. "Do you have a particular bench in mind?"
"I do."
"Is there a waterfall nearby?"
"There is."
"Then, I think that will be just fine.”
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