Rediscovery (3 page)

That led them down to North Braeswood and one of the four big bayous that drained the swamp Houston had been built on. “They built on the banks of Buffalo Bayou, you see,” Lee explained, “and then as the city grew, it expanded into the swamp, so they had to create miniature bayous to drain into the existing ones so they could keep building.”

Braes Bayou ran down to Fannin and the first light rail line in the city. Michael expected Lee to turn up Fannin to the Medical Center since the park was on Fannin, but Lee kept going straight. “That’s the part of the park everyone knows,” Lee said. “We’re going to start with the road less traveled.” He continued almost to 288 before turning onto a street Michael had never been on before. “There used to be a stable here where people could take riding lessons, but they moved farther out 288 past Beltway 8. You used to see them taking trail rides through the park.”

Lee parked on a side street and got out. “Shall we walk?”

Intrigued by all the discoveries about a city he’d thought he knew, Michael jumped out of the car, ready to follow Lee pretty much anywhere. Lee led Michael back toward the bayou. “This is a natural regrowth area,” Lee said as they walked along the edge of the brush and bushes that grew up between the huge live oak trees. “They’re actually studying it to watch the progression of natural species now that it’s a no-mow zone. The wildflowers came first, but those have mostly been pushed out now by the taller wild grasses and the next generation of live oaks. Then there are the crepe myrtles and the oleander too.” With each plant he named, Lee pointed them out to Michael, touching the leaves with a reverence Michael could not explain.

“How do you know all this?” Michael asked.

“I pay attention,” Lee said. “I don’t pay a lot of attention to what’s going on in the broader world—and don’t tell me how dangerous or stupid that is. My sister has already told me. That’s out there. I want to see what’s happening right here around me. I want to know the whys and hows of my home or of the place I’m in at that moment. I want to see and understand the changes around me. That has to happen first. If I understand that, then I can understand the world outside, but if I don’t know my here and now, how can I understand the rest?”

“Some people would say that without an understanding of the wider context, you’re missing something,” Michael said.

“That’s just it,” Lee said. “I travel quite a lot, and I learn so much from it because I do have my eyes open to the world around me. But when I travel, I look at my destination the same way I look at Houston. I want to see and understand on the most local level possible because that is how you understand on a larger level.”

“I don’t follow,” Michael said. “Give me an example.”

“I went to Créancey, France,” Lee said. “It’s a town of two hundred people. Maybe. In front of the church, there is a pillar, and on it are the inscriptions of all the men and boys from Créancey who were killed during World War I. There are forty names on that list. One fifth of the town’s population died in the Great War.”

“Yes, and?”

“And that explains history. People scoff at the French for the Maginot Line because it failed to stop the Germans during World War II,” Lee said impatiently, “but that’s hindsight talking, and it’s Americans talking. For a young mother in Créancey, holding a baby boy and facing another war, the Maginot Line let her sleep at night. Look at the local level, the impact of events on the narrowest plane possible, and suddenly the reactions make sense. Maybe not immediately, but over time. But if you stop watching and thinking, you might miss the thing that makes it all click.”

“So what does the restored natural area here tell you?” Michael asked.

“That there’s an increasing awareness of the importance of green spaces, of native plants,” Lee said. “There may be a portion of it that’s flood control in that keeping the waterways free of erosion will help them flow more quickly and accept more water before they flood. It’s a small improvement, but it is one.”

When they neared the Texas Medical Center, “the largest collection of hospitals in the world,” Lee mentioned, they turned to stroll up Cambridge and then along Hermann Park Drive toward the more frequently visited section of Hermann Park. At that hour of the night, the golf course was empty, giving it a slightly eerie feel. Without even realizing what he was doing, Michael walked closer to Lee’s side.

“You don’t have to worry about this area of town,” Lee assured him. “Between the traffic from the Medical Center and from Rice University, there’s always someone driving along here if you need help, and tonight there’s also Shakespeare in the Park, which means the zoo lot will be full too.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll stop,” Michael said.

“No,” Lee agreed, “but it usually means the unsavory element chooses to hang out elsewhere. You can’t jump the fence into the zoo anymore the way my granddad talked about doing when he was a boy, but sometimes you can hear the animals if it’s really quiet at night. The wolves are on the other side of the fence, as are the elephants, a little farther up.”

They walked past the parking lot, crossing into the park toward Miller Outdoor Theatre where the play was still going on. Lee didn’t lead Michael up the hill to the point where they could see down into the amphitheater, taking him instead around to McGovern Lake. “If it weren’t so late, we could go out on the pedal boats,” Lee said, “or take the train around the park.”

“That stuff is for the kids,” Michael scoffed.

“Really?” Lee said. “When was the last time you did something ‘for the kids’ to see if you still enjoyed it? And if you tell me it was when you were fifteen, I’m going to smack you.”

“How about if I tell you it was when I was sixteen?” Michael said, flinching a little in anticipation.

Lee smacked him on the shoulder. “You were sixteen, too cool for anything that might have challenged your dignity, except that at sixteen, everything challenged your dignity. You aren’t sixteen anymore. I bet you’d enjoy it a lot more than you expected if you tried it again now.”

“So what do you suggest?” Michael asked, intrigued enough by the idea to want to hear more.

Lee shook his head. “You make the suggestion. Think about something you loved to do, somewhere you loved to go as a kid. Something you outgrew because it was ‘kid stuff’. When you figure it out, we’ll do it together.”

“There’s not much open this late on a Saturday night,” Michael said, “at least not that would be kid stuff.”

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Lee replied. “You’re local; I’m local. It can be a week from now or a month from now. Whenever you’re ready to relax and look at something familiar through new eyes.”

He’d already done that tonight, Michael thought as he looked at Lee. He’d looked at the familiar if undesirable world of leather and seen a new layer to it, a layer that was purely about the hide, not about a lifestyle that didn’t fit Michael’s interests. He’d seen a side of his hometown he’d never noticed before. Lee had shown him that much. It made him wonder how much more Lee could show him if he let it happen. “It’s a deal,” he said. “I’ll think of something and call you when I do.”

Lee smiled. “You won’t regret it.”

Impulsively, Michael leaned forward and brushed his lips over Lee’s, the dry contact fleeting. “I know that already.”

Michael
didn’t return to the dealers’ room before the end of the con on Sunday. He wasn’t ready to face Lee again. He needed to think about everything he had heard and learned the night before first, and by the time they made it back to the hotel, it had been too late for any serious reflection.

The intervening week had given him plenty of time for thought, though, as he caught himself studying the details around him and wondering how Lee would interpret them. The following Saturday, he picked up the phone and called the number on the card Lee had given him.

“Lee Mitchell.”

“Hi, Lee, it’s Michael Donovan, from the con last weekend,” Michael stammered, wondering if Lee would remember and make the connection.

“I remember. How are you, Michael?”

“Fine. And you?”

“Quite well, especially hearing your voice. I wondered if you’d call.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Michael said, irrationally pleased that Lee had thought about him, “and I came up with something I loved doing as a kid and haven’t done in years.”

“What’s that?” Lee asked.

“Brazos Bend State Park,” Michael replied. “We used to go down there in the fall and spring, when it wasn’t too hot yet, and hike. Sometimes we’d even camp. Or we’d look at the stars from the Observatory. I haven’t been there since I was twelve, probably, and my older brother decided he was too cool for the trip, so of course I did too.”

“It’s too late to go today, and I have plans for tomorrow already,” Lee said, “but we could go next Saturday if you want. We’ll drive down, have a picnic, hike as long as you’d like, and see how the day goes.”

Michael grinned, even knowing Lee couldn’t see him. “That sounds wonderful. Do you want to meet me there, or would you rather drive together?”

“I’ll pick you up,” Lee offered.

“No,” Michael said, “this date is my idea. I’ll drive.”

“So it’s a date?” Lee asked, his voice teasing. “Quite a plan for a first date.”

“Second,” Michael said. “Last Saturday was the first.”

“Second date, then,” Lee agreed. “What time do you want to leave?”

“It will take an hour to get down there from the Meyerland area where I live,” Michael said. “It depends on where we meet, or where you live if I pick you up.”

“Picking me up would be out of the way,” Lee said. “I’ll meet you at Meyerland Plaza, and we can drive together from there. What time?”

“At nine?” Michael suggested. “That will get us to the park a little after ten and we’ll have two hours to hike before it’s time for lunch. I’ll pack a basket. Is there anything you don’t eat?”

“Anchovies,” Lee replied.

“Anything you’d find at a picnic,” Michael retorted, laughing.

“No, I’m good with any sandwich meats, cheeses, chips, fruit, that sort of thing,” Lee said. “Water would be my beverage of choice.”

“For a day in the park, that’s the best choice,” Michael answered. “It’s not June yet, but I don’t expect it to be cool either.”

He heard the sound of a keyboard clacking. “They’re predicting clear weather, high in the upper 80s,” Lee said after a moment. “We’ll be warm, but not miserable.”

“And it’s always cooler in the park under the trees,” Michael added. “So I’ll see you Saturday at nine?”

“See you then,” Lee agreed, hanging up and leaving Michael feeling alternately elated and nervous. He wanted to see Lee again, to see if the incredible ease of the evening together in Hermann Park would recreate itself, but he feared it wouldn’t work out that way, that the magic of the shadows would fade in the light of day, leaving him with only a tarnished memory. Telling himself to stop being melodramatic, he pulled up the Brazos Bend web site so he could refamiliarize himself with the park, the better to impress Lee next weekend.