She lifted the garage door with a great, heaving grunt. The contents of the tiny building looked like a time capsule. Everything just as she’d left it five years ago. When they’d parked the truck and never looked back.
There were some things she could never forget. Scent of fried dough mingled with the aroma of a dark Ethiopian blend in the morning. The bright yellow-gold of the meadowlark. Corrie, behind the wheel, head thrown back, laughing.
Swallowing, she felt for the keys in her pocket. She walked over to Little Indigo and peered in the window. Neat as a pin, just as she’d left it. She pulled the keys out of her pocket and opened the door; slid behind the wheel. She slid the key into the ignition and turned. Nothing.
“Dead battery,” she muttered to herself. “What did I expect?”
She turned the key back to the off position and sat still for a moment. She gripped both sides of the steering wheel and let out a slow exhale. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath.
Am I really going to do this?
She got out her cell phone and punched up a number. “Yes, hello? Bri? Yes, it’s just me… I’m fine, thanks for asking. I never did thank you for the peaches you sent…Mm Hmmm. Delicious. I made some tarts with them and still had plenty left to snack on. Oh, yeah? You’ll have to give me the recipe…Hey, listen, when the boys come tomorrow to mow the grass, will you ask Caleb to bring his jumper cables? I’ve got a dead battery here and I don’t know the first thing…Oh, thank you! I appreciate it so much. Yes. Ok, then. I’ll let you get back to your preserves. Thanks again. Bye, bye now.”
She hung up and continued staring through the windshield at nothing.
I guess I am. I guess I am going to do this.
::
She heard the mowers before she realized the guys had arrived. She threw a glance at the clock on her bedside table: 7:45. Those boys sure did believe in making hay while the sun was shining. She groaned deeply, stretched her arms above her head and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pushing the covers aside. It was still hard to make herself get up in the morning, but she knew Caleb would want to jump the truck and be on his way to his next client. The Brown boys—not so much boys anymore, what was Caleb now? Twenty-six, twenty-seven? And Junebug not far behind him. Early twenties?—had amassed quite the landscaping business in the past few years. They were hard workers. And smart. Especially Caleb. That boy could do anything with his hands. Repair any kind of equipment, build anything, grow anything, make any kind of house-repair anyone could ever need … He had expanded the lawn-mowing business he started in high school to a full-fledged landscaping architecture practice without even trying. Everything he touched turned into something beautiful. He had a way of seeing. Corrie had had that same gift. Vision. A way of looking into the future and seeing how things would grow together.
She shook her head. Walked to the closet and pulled on the same jeans and t-shirt she’d worn yesterday, abandoned in the floor last night. She padded into the kitchen and got the coffee going, checked her phone for any messages, and waved to Junebug through the kitchen window. June was always the weed eater handler. He lifted his hand to her without missing a beat. The two of them could finish the wide expanse of her yard in just over half an hour. The coffeemaker beeped. She glanced at the clock before getting out three mugs and setting them on a tray. Caleb took his black, but she splashed some cream in the bottom of hers and June’s. She backed out the screen door, carefully balancing the tray, just as the mower quieted. She set the tray down on the table and took her place on the porch swing, waiting for the boys to join her, like they used to before she’d found it too hard to meet them here.
Caleb appeared first, wiping sweat from his brow despite the chill in the morning air that whispered fall. He wordlessly stooped to pick up his mug and sat down in the rocking chair to her left. He took a deep drink, closed his eyes and let out a sigh.
“I’ve missed this. ‘Bout time you got that lazy butt out of bed. One of these days you’re going to tell me your secret to making a plain old cup of coffee taste like a little bit of heaven.”
She smiled. “You know I can’t give away trade secrets. If you didn’t leave before the sun came up you might have time for caffeine before you go.”
“Then I’d miss out on the best cup of coffee this side of the Mississippi.”
She raised her brows. “Only this side?”
He laughed as his brother joined them, taking his place beside her on the swing. He scooped his mug with both hands.
“You,” Junebug said, lifting his mug in salute, “are a lifesaver.”
She chuckled and said, “You’re welcome.”
“Mom said you need a jump? What you been doing to that Subaru to kill so young a battery?”
She kept her eyes on her coffee mug, cradled in her lap.
“It’s not the Subaru what needs the jump.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his. His honey eyes were dancing.
“You’re finally getting Little Indigo out.”
She smiled shyly and looked away, nodding.
Junebug slapped his leg, sloshing coffee onto his knee. “Yee-haw! It’s about time!” He leaned over and planted a happy kiss on her cheek.
“It doesn’t mean anything, boys, I’m just getting her out of storage and cleaning her up,” she protested.
But they both beamed at her silently.
“I mean it!” She said. “Don’t go getting any big ideas.”
“Just in time for fried green tomatoes,” Caleb teased. She swatted at his arm.
“I’m just getting the truck started. For now. That’s all.”
The boys looked knowingly at each other and simultaneously said, “For now.”
“Are you going to help me or not?” She snapped.
“I brought my cables. What are we waiting for?” Caleb took another deep swig of his mug of coffee and stood up. But before they could walk over to the garage, someone pulled into her driveway.
“You expecting company at,” June looked at his watch, “8:37 a.m.?”
She peered at the Prius pulling up her long driveway and recognized Anna behind the wheel.
“No, I … well, I wonder what she needs?”
“Friend of yours?” Caleb asked.
“Sort of, I guess. A botanist that came by with Rhoda’s class to help with the bees. I helped her with a wedding shower for her sister and I … Oh, never mind. Let me see what’s up.”
Anna parked beside Caleb’s truck and approached the porch, carrying a basket. She glanced nervously at the two young men, her eyes taking in the tray with the mugs. She looked scared to death.
“Hi, Anna, what a nice surprise!” She called from the porch swing. “Is everything all right?”
Anna started a little at her voice. “Oh! Yes, I … I hope I’m not interrupting. I was determined to master those tarts you made for me and was up early baking. I thought I’d bring some by and get your opinion.” She held out the basket.
“Tarts?” June perked up. “Well, if it’s taste-testers you’re needing, Miss, my brother and I are experts.” He swooped down off the porch and scooped the basket from her hands, parting the tea towel that covered the top. “Let’s see what we have here.”
She could have sworn Anna was blushing. “I didn’t know you’d have company, I’m so sorry … I just, well, you know how…”
“No worries, Anna! Won’t you join us? Would you like a cup of coffee? Meet Caleb and Junebug.” She gestured to the young men accordingly. “They’re just the hired help.” She stifled a smile. Junebug playfully punched her side the same time as he lifted a peach tart out of the basket now resting on the coffee tray. “June wasn’t kidding. These boys have been my taste-testers since they were knee-high to a grasshopper.”
Anna wavered on the walkway. “I-I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not interrupting! Oh, but wait. I forget myself. Caleb, do you guys have time to have a tart and some more coffee before helping me with the truck and getting on with your workday?”
Caleb was looking at Anna, his face unreadable.
“How could I possibly say no to a peach tart?” He drawled, not taking his eyes off Anna.
Anna was definitely blushing.
::
Photo by Donnie Nunley, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Story by Laura Boggess, author of Mildred’s Garden and Waiting for Neruda’s Memoirs.
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Bethany says
[Thanks for this! Bookmarking this to read when things slow down here! Looking forward to it…]
laura says
Thanks for reading along, Bethany!
Bethany R. says
” Scent of fried dough mingled with the aroma of a dark Ethiopian blend in the morning. The bright yellow-gold of the meadowlark. Corrie, behind the wheel, head thrown back, laughing.” I can smell, see, and hear it! Helps paint such a vivid world of memories the main character is living in.
Laurie Klein says
First of all, this: “… that same gift. Vision. A way of looking into the future and seeing how things would grow together.”
Then: “… the chill in the morning air that whispered fall.”
Leading to this crystalline moment: “She lifted her eyes to meet his. His honey eyes were dancing.
‘You’re finally getting Little Indigo out.’
She smiled shyly and looked away, nodding.”
Oh, and this: “I’m just getting the truck started. For now. That’s all.” (and the ways my mind runs with it, witnessing this moment of healing possibility with such a lift in my heart)
And the taste of possibilities via a simple peach . . .