Todd Cochrane loved the 1934 Dodge sedan. He loved the classic lines and the extended hood. He loved the large box-like interior, with its antiquated gauges, over-long stick shift, and vaguely earthy smell. He loved the slightly tattered seats, which were wide enough in the back for two people sit apart if they wished and comfortable enough for two people to sit close together if they desired.

Mostly though, he loved the old Dodge because it belonged to Melody Braun, who currently shared the back seat with him. On the seat between them sat a picnic basket, its gingham cloth cover thrown aside for easy access to its contents.

"I don't know Todd, Frost seems too�-" Melody waved her left hand in air, as if trying to catch her thought in her fist, "�-melancholy to me. Whitman, now--"

Todd shook his head, "Was bombastic."

Melody gave him a mock look of affront, "I was going to say enthusiastic about life and the future." She took a piece of fried chicken from the picnic basket and brandished it at him. "You're not eating. I knew I shouldn't have let you eat dessert first."

Todd smiled and turned in the seat to face her fully. He plucked a leg from the basket and took a hearty bit. The chicken tasted peppery in his mouth. Todd reached into the basket for his contribution to their late night picnic. Pulling out a battered thermos, he opened it, allowing the smell of freshly brewed coffee to fill the cab of the car, mingling with scent of fried chicken, dinner rolls, and the two pieces of blackberry pie they had eaten earlier. He poured two cups, and passed one to Melody.

"Whitman just seems too preachy at times," Todd continued, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose. "Frost was all about choosing."

"And fences," Melody countered. "Don't forget the fences."

Todd looked at her over his glasses, trying to be stern, but Melody's irrepressible smile forced him to grin back. "You know I really do admire Whitman, right?" he finally admitted.

"I know." She reached down and picked up the battered copy of Frost's New Hampshire he had brought along to read to her from. "I think Frost is wonderful, I just wanted to get a rise out of you, that's all."

She put the book down and reached for a dinner roll from the basket. Her light brown hair slid forward, hiding her pretty face. Todd resisted the urge to reach out and push it back behind her ear.

He had only met her two weeks ago. She had given him a ride home after he was caught in a sudden rain shower while on his evening walk. They had sat in her car outside his house for two hours, comparing Chekhov and Poe after she noticed the copy of Chekhov's short stories he had been struggling to keep dry. When she had realized the late hour, she told him she needed to leave and drove away before he could ask for her telephone number.

Every evening since, he had walked the dirt road hoping to see her again. She picked him up three more times, and each time they spent the entire evening talking animatedly about some poet, playwright, or novelist they admired. Tonight was their actual first arranged meeting. She picked him up at his house, and they drove to a small creek at the back of his property.

Todd took another sip of his coffee and watched the woman in the pastel dress opposite him dig through the picnic basket. Melody finally produced a small ceramic crock filled with homemade butter. She plastered a liberal amount of the pale dairy product inside the roll and passed it to him before preparing one for herself. Todd tried to juggle the roll, chicken leg, and coffee cup until Melody placed a cloth napkin on his knee.

"Put something down before you hurt yourself," she laughed.

Todd set the chicken leg on the napkin while trying to stop the butter from escaping the roll. "So do you want to drive into Carnegie for a movie tomorrow night?" Todd finally asked her.

She took a sip of the coffee and, looking over the rim of the cup, shook her head no. "I think I'm content to just keep getting together like we have been, at least for now." She gave him a sly look. "So do you fish, city boy?"

Todd blinked at her. She bewildered him sometimes. One moment they were analyzing the merits of Robert Frost, the next she wanted to know if he fished. "Of course," he answered after a moment's hesitation. "I might live in the city, but I grew up out here. I think I can still bait a hook."

She beamed at him, her brown eyes sparkling. "Good. I know a little place where the largest catfish you've ever seen come up to the surface at night to feed."

Todd finished the roll, washing it down with a final gulp of coffee. "So tomorrow night?" he asked.

Melody shook her head again. "I need to help mom bring in the last of the vegetables from the garden. And there's canning to do and..." her voiced trailed off when she saw the look on his face. "What?"

"I just can't believe people still do all that work."

Melody glared at him. "Not everyone can run down to the corner store every day. Especially not living out here on the back end of nowhere."

Todd nodded agreeably. "I know, I know, it just amazes me, that's all. I sometimes forget what it's like living out here." He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"I was saying, I can't tomorrow or Friday night, but if you're not doing anything else on Saturday, I could come by and pick you up at sundown."

"Sounds wonderful. I'm sure there's an old rod and reel in the attic." Todd finished the last of the chicken leg and wiped his lips and hands on the napkin.

"Good. It's a date," Melody said. She finished her own food and looked out the car window. "What time is it?"

Todd pulled the pocket watch from his jeans. The watch, a gift from his grandfather, was one of Todd's most prized possessions. "Ten-thirty three," Todd told her.

With a start, Melody wiped her hands clean and started packing up the picnic basket. "I need to go home. I have to be at work at seven."

It was the first time since Todd had met her that Melody mentioned having a job. "Where do you work?" he asked, snatching up his thermos and books before Melody packed them away in her haste.

"I substitute teach at several of the local schools. I'm supposed to be over in Binger tomorrow morning." Melody finished packing the basket and stowed it on the floorboard. "The superintendent told me one of the English teachers is retiring in spring, so I want to be my best tomorrow." She stepped out of the back of the car and climbed behind the steering wheel. "I really want that position."

Todd went out the opposite door and met her in the front of the car. "So, you mold the minds of the young," Todd said, settling into the passenger side of the seat.

Melody pulled the throttle out and fired up the old Dodge. The engine roared to life, and she smoothly shifted into first gear. "I'll thank you not to mock, Mr. Cochrane. It's an important job," she said with a neutral expression on her face.

"I'm teasing, Melody. I use to teach mythology and folklore at Central," Todd said. "I know how important your job is."

Melody guided the car down the bumpy farm road toward Todd's house. "Ah, a college professor as well as a writer and city boy. My mother warned me about your type." She glanced at him and smiled. "So do you intend to seduce the poor farm girl with your libertine ways, then carry me off to the city to be your mistress?"

Todd laughed out loud. "Only if you want me to." He chuckled again before speaking. "Libertine is a mighty big word for a farm girl."

Melody turned the car up the long dirt drive to Todd's house. She shifted down when the car started to lose traction in the deep dirt. "You should have these ruts fixed. And I�ll have you know this farm girl graduated with honors from Texas State College for Women, thank you." She pulled the car up to the screen door to the kitchen. "Here we are."

Todd climbed out of the car and walked around to the driver's side door. "Thank you for the wonderful evening." He leaned into the window and gave her a soft kiss on the lips. When she did not complain, he kissed her harder.

Melody finally pulled away, flushed and smiling. "I have to go. I'll see you Saturday, right?"

Todd Cochrane smiled happily. "Absolutely."

Saturday morning Todd decided to drive into town to check his mail and pick up some things from the little general store. He cooked a simple breakfast of eggs and toast, cleaned up, then took the keys from the nail next to the kitchen door. He did not bother locking up as he left; people in this part of Oklahoma did not need to lock their doors. He started the long walk down to the barn.

He had returned to his childhood home, the home of his parents, his father's parents before them, and others further up the family line. Todd still owned the property, so it was in truth the "Cochrane farm" as many of the old-timers called it, though it had been over two decades since a Cochrane actually tilled or planted in the red soil. Todd leased the fields to a neighbor, who seemed to have a goodly crop of peanuts almost ready for digging. The house he kept for himself, though he rarely stayed at it anymore. The early twentieth century two-story home stayed sealed for most of the year, being opened only when Todd needed to flee the city.

A fair-sized inheritance and careful planning made Todd, if not wealthy, at least independent. This independence allowed him to drop out of academia and focus on writing. Three moderately successful fantasy novels and a well-received book on Kiowa folklore followed. A fourth novel was only weeks away from release, and Todd had decided to compile a collection of poems he had written over the last decade. He had returned to his ancestral home to finish editing the book and, like others before him, draw inspiration from the pleasures of living in a rural setting.

Todd opened the barn door and his nose was immediately assailed by the smell of machine oil, coupled with the organic, musty aroma all barns seem to possess. The farmer leasing the fields used the barn to store his equipment, but had left enough room for Todd to park his faded, rusting truck when he was not driving it. There had been two hail storms after Todd's arrival, and since he only took the truck out once every couple of weeks, it made sense to park under shelter. Todd climbed into the truck and, after a three attempts, the engine finally turned over. He put the truck in drive and pulled out of the barn.

Todd had the windows of the truck rolled down as he drove, and was grateful when the bumpy farm road intersected a paved county road after two miles. All the red dirt flying around covered everything, from the dashboard of the truck to the back of Todd's throat. Three more miles worth of driving brought him into town.

The post office said the town's name was Albert, but everything and everyone else called it Oney. The dual names remained a perennial favorite topic of discussion among the bevy of weathered old men who congregated on the long wooden bench in front of the general store. The tiny farm community of two hundred people boasted a one-room post office, the general store, a gas station, a seed and feed, a school, two churches, and a restaurant which only opened for breakfast and lunch. During Todd's childhood there had been two general stores and two restaurants, as well as a farm implements dealer. The bank, movie theatre, and cotton gin had closed when Todd's father was a boy.

Todd pulled up in front of Glink's General Store. He waved at the four old men sitting in front of the store, and stepped over to the post office next door.

"Mornin', Max," Todd said to the man who ran the post office.

Max Nelson had been the Postmaster since Todd could remember. Every day Max would walk from his house a block down the street and open the one room building, and every evening he would lock up the building and walk home.

"Morning, Todd. How are things out at the farm?" The old man moved behind the panel of combination boxes to retrieve Todd's mail. Most of the boxes did not open from the front anymore, including Todd's.

"Quiet. I'm getting a lot of work done."

"Well, make sure when you're done to send us out a copy," Max said, handing Todd a small bundle of mail. Todd always sent Max copies of his books, which Max would loan out to anyone in town curious enough to read them.

Todd said a quick good-bye to the older man and walked back to his truck. After depositing the bundle of envelopes in the front seat, he walked to the store and, with another nod at the old men lining the bench in front of the building, stepped inside.

Glink's General Store was a relic of a bygone era. The long counter along the wall and dark, unpolished wood floor gave the impression of pictures from the dust bowl and great depression. In fact, Glink's survived both incidents, as well as the bust of the oil industry and the slow-but-steady decline in the fortunes of the American farmer. The store's grudging concessions to progress were the freezer and refrigeration units, a telephone, new florescent lights, a stainless steel meat slicer, two used restaurant booths, and two brand new fire extinguishers. It was entirely possible the shelves and cash register dated back to the original opening of the store in 1919, though no one knew for sure.

Alice Glink, the thin, grey-haired owner, stood behind the counter tallying up a purchase for Joe Taggert, one of the local farmers. She looked up and smiled when Todd walked in, then turned back to her customer. "That will be twenty-five dollars and forty-three cents," Todd heard her say as he grabbed one of the three shopping carts the store boasted and turned down the refrigerator aisle.

"Hey, Todd," a voice call out his name as he passed the bottled juice. Todd looked up to find himself being approached by a smiling woman in her mid-thirties. She was pretty enough, Todd thought to himself, though her slightly large nose and limp, sandy blonde hair kept her from being truly beautiful. At least she had stopped wearing large plastic frame glasses she had had in school. The fashionable set she wore these days flattered her, enhancing her better features.

Carla Glink was the daughter of the store's owners, and had been his best friend in high school. Everyone expected the two smartest kids in the class to leave the sleepy little community behind, but where Todd had gone on to college and later pursued a writing career, Carla had stayed behind, helping her mother run the grocery store while their father drove an hour every day to work at a factory up in Weatherford. Carla lived behind the store in a tiny one-bedroom mobile home. She had rarely dated and never married. It was, Todd thought, the saddest thing in the world.

"Hey, yourself," Todd replied. "How's the grocery business?"

Carla shrugged. "Same as always. How's the book coming along?"

"Maybe another month or so worth of work before it's ready to send off to the editor."

"I'll look for it when it hits the shelves," she said.

"I can always send you a copy," Todd told her. He knew she owned all of his books, even the one on Kiowa folktales.

She shook her head no. "I plan to help support everyone's favorite local writer."

"I think I can afford to hand out a few copies to my friends," he said. Todd placed a large jug of orange juice in his cart and moved on to the milk and margarine. Carla followed behind him.

"So I wondered," she said, looking down at her feet, "if maybe you'd like to eat dinner together or something before you go back to Oklahoma City." She shyly looked up at his face. "Just as friends, of course. I'd like to maybe talk about your work and just kind of catch up."

Todd hesitated for a split second. The conversation was making him a little uncomfortable. He and Carla had been friends for years, and her sudden shyness bothered him.

"Of course," he finally said. "I'd love to."

"Great," she seemed relieved. "So, anything I can help you with?"

"What?"

Carla smiled. "I work here, remember? I asked if there was anything I could get for you?"

"Um, I need a pound of shaved turkey and another of ham, I guess."

"Okay, I'll meet you at the counter when you're done." She turned and left him to finish his shopping.

At the counter he unloaded his cart and Alice started ringing up his purchases. Carla approached with the deli meat.

"So you'll give me a call before you go back to the city?" Carla said, as Todd wrote out a check for his groceries.

Todd smiled at her as she passed him a slip of paper with her telephone number written on it. "Absolutely."

"I'm telling you, catfish come to the surface in weather like this."

Todd looked out the window of Melody's car and watched the rain come down in a steady shower, punctuated occasionally by flashes of lightning. Todd turned away from the window and looked back to his companion. "Uh-huh. Which tells you something about the intelligence of catfish, doesn't it?"

Melody shook her head at him in mock disgust. "City boy's afraid he'll catch the sniffles, is he?"

"Yes," Todd replied without hesitation. "I don't see you standing out there in the rain trying to entice mudcats to their doom," he added.

"Well--" she jumped when a crack of thunder rattled the windows of the old Dodge sedan. "It probably wouldn't be a great idea to stand near the water with all this lightning."

"Probably not," Todd agreed. "In fact we should probably move the car before we end up stuck in the mud or something."

Melody smiled impishly at him. "We could end up stuck out here all night."

Todd nodded, keeping a solemn look on his face. "We could. Then whatever would we do to pass the time?"

"Well, we did bring all this food. I suppose we could eat another backseat picnic."

Todd reached over and took her hand. He locked his eyes on Melody's and gave an encouraging smile. "I'm sure we could find something to keep us busy."

For several moments she said nothing, and Todd feared he had managed to cross a boundary with her. He realized he didn't really know her well and he wasn't very good at reading women. A moment ago he was certain the signs of interest were there, but now he was not so sure. He started to open his mouth to apologize when Melody finally spoke up.

"Todd, I really like you. I like you a lot, and I've enjoyed our evenings together. But before we can go any further there's something I need to tell you."

Todd gave a rueful smile. "You're married, right?"

Melody shook her head. "No. I was, but my husband was killed in the war."

"I'm sorry," Todd said, giving the hand he held a small squeeze.

"It's okay. I just -- I need you to understand, I'm not ready yet. I think I like you a lot, but--"

Todd squeezed her hand again. "But you need to take things slow and careful. I understand. I'm divorced, and I haven't been in a relationship since."

"Divorced?" she asked, as if the idea were somehow foreign to her.

Todd nodded his head. "We married right out of college. I guess we didn't really know each other as people, and�-" he finished with a shrug.

"Do you have any children?" she asked.

"No," Todd answered. "You?"

"A son. He's eight. That's something else about me you should know before things go any further. Jeremy's the most important thing to me in the world."

Todd started to reply, but another loud crash of thunder rattled the car. The rain outside increased in intensity, beating down on the car so hard it became difficult to hear.

Melody looked at the roof and frowned. With a sudden swiftness she climbed over the seat into the front of the car. Todd hesitated a moment before climbing over after her.

"We should leave before we really do end up stuck," she said.

"Yeah. I guess this means our evening is a little short."

Melody fired up the car and started into the dark and rain. The windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm, but barely kept up. They rode in silence, Melody concentrating on the road and Todd unwilling to disturb her, until finally they managed to climb the long incline up to Todd's house. Melody parked the car and set the brake.

"We still have a basket full of food. It seems a shame to waste it," she finally said.

"Do you want to go inside?"

"No. I like the rain, and now that I'm not worried about being stuck in the mud, I'd like to sit out here and enjoy the storm."

Todd smiled. "So, do we just climb back over into the backseat? Or should I reach around and bring everything up front?"

"Up front," she said. "We can watch the storm through the windshield while we eat."

Todd reached over the back of the seat and brought up a small picnic basket. He also produced his thermos, two cups, and a couple of books from inside a small canvas bag. Melody took the basket from him and started digging through it for the sandwiches and potato salad she had brought, while Todd poured coffee.

"What did you bring?" she asked, nodding to the books.

"Um, well, this." He held up a slim volume of Frost poems. "And I brought a copy of one of my books, if you're interested."

Melody reached out for the hardback book with his name on it. "Of course I'm interested. Can I borrow it for a few days?"

"Actually, you can keep it."

"Oh, I couldn't, this book must cost--"

"Nothing," he cut her off. "It's an author's copy. The publisher sent me plenty, so keep it. Please?"

"Thank you," she finally said. She passed him a plate filled with a sandwich, a large helping of potato salad, and a fork.

Todd took a couple of bites of his sandwich before asking her a question he had been curious about since they had met.

"So, where did you get this car?"

"My husband. I've thought about getting rid of the old thing, it's a cranky beast sometimes. But he loved it and..." she smiled sadly.

"I understand," Todd said, wishing he had never brought it up.

They sat quietly for a few more minutes, enjoying the food, the rain, and each other's company.

"Todd,"

"Yes?" he asked

"I need to, um, use the facilities."

"Oh sure. The rain's let up, we shouldn't get drenched if we make a dash for it."

"On three?" she asked.

"Okay," Todd agreed, reaching for the door handle.

Melody started counting. "One. Two."

"Three!" they cried in unison, pushing open the car doors.

The rain fell softer now, but was still cold. Todd dashed ahead of her and opened the kitchen door. Melody ran inside shrieking with laughter.

Todd started walking through the kitchen. "The bathroom's through the living room and down the hall. Here, I'll show you where--" Todd stopped talking when he realized she was not following him. He turned to look at her.

Todd saw Melody looking around his kitchen with wide, surprised eyes. Her skin seemed pale under the bright light and her mouth was slightly open, as if she were about to say "Oh." She started to tremble and looked as if she might bolt at the slightest provocation.

Todd glanced around his kitchen, trying to figure out the cause of her distress. A coffee maker, toaster, and microwave sat in their places along the counter. His laptop, its screen saver making three-dimensional pipes appear and vanish, sat on the kitchen table next to an empty coffee cup.

Todd took a step toward her. She blinked and took a step backward.

"I have to go," she said in a near whisper, before wheeling and racing out the door.

Todd, after a moment of disbelief, followed her. He ran out the door just as she fired up the engine on the old Dodge. She did not acknowledge him rushing toward her as she put the car in gear and hit the accelerator. Todd chased the car partway down the driveway before slipping in the shallow mud and falling down. He looked up to see the taillights of the car. It skidded sideways when it hit the deep, muddy ruts halfway down the drive and for an instant Todd thought the car might become stuck, but he heard the engine give a roar as the car straightened out and continued on its way. As Todd stood up, he watched the car turn left onto the muddy dirt road at the end of the driveway and disappear into the night.

Confused, Todd trudged back to his house.