by Kenzie Hart
“She’s beautiful. Do you tend the garden?” Eddie asks, still watching Beatrix chew on the corner of a leaf.
“I help often, but Mrs. B loves to care for it. One of her favorite things is to go to the garden each morning and pick fresh vegetables and berries while I feed the animals.”
“My mum is the same. She doesn’t have as large a garden but loves tending it. I think, eventually, she wants everything put into her pies to come from our home.”
“How lovely.” Klara smiles, captivated by him.
They continue around the vegetable garden to another fenced-in section with an elaborate chicken coup. It is painted in a pale yellow and decorated by dusty-blue trim.
“We have some chickens. There’s Peter,” Klara says, pointing to a chicken walking along the fence line. “And that is Alice and Tink.” She points at them with such enthusiasm, her eyes lighting up as she names them all. “Would you like to feed them?” Klara asks, lifting her eyes to Eddie’s. She finds him watching her, and it brings a small blush to her cheeks.
Eddie nods at her, taking the basket from her hand. As he does, his thumb lightly brushes against her finger, and Klara’s slight blush quickly deepens. Her heartbeat seems to explode, and she’s surprised he can’t hear it.
Eddie grabs a handful from the basket, tossing seeds out onto the ground. He tries to evenly spread them, and the chickens take notice, pecking their way around. He smiles to himself as he finishes dispersing the feed, thinking about how Klara’s creamy skin flushed so easily when he touched her. He doesn’t pretend to know much about girls, but one thing he does know is that making them blush is definitely a good thing.
“What do you think?” Klara asks Eddie as they sit in the thick grass surrounding a small pond.
There is a fountain in the middle, and it is the first thing she sees upon waking every morning. Turning her head back to her house, she admires her window and small balcony. Vines crawl across the wall, and she closes her eyes, thinking about the feeling she gets every morning as she opens the balcony door to let in the cool air. It dances across her skin, giving her goose bumps, and it tickles the curtains, sending them swaying back and forth across the wall. For as long as she can remember, that is the first thing she does each morning. Her bedroom has been hers since birth, and there is something comforting about the idea that it is hers and hers alone.
“Everything is so beautiful here,” Eddie says, focusing on Klara more so than the estate.
Her eyes are shut, and he can tell she is thinking about something completely apart from where they are now.
“Quite so.” She smiles.
They sit quietly, listening to the fountain water fall lightly into the pond. The grass curves down, and they rest on a slight rise.
Even being a good distance from the house, anyone looking out a window would be able to see them sitting there, and it is Grandmother who is now peeking through a thick velvet curtain at this very moment. She watches as Klara glances between the boy, the house, and the pond. She looks, in one word, content. Cordelia isn’t normally one for snooping, but curiosity got the better of her, and she had to take a private look at the boy catching Klara’s attention. Cordelia rests her hand against the wooden window frame, closing her eyes.
When she reopens them, she is looking out not at the present, but at the past. Charles and Evelyn, Klara’s mother, are sitting in the same exact spot. Their legs are pushed close together. Charles laces his hand through Evelyn’s.
Evelyn was a beautiful woman with eyes and hair just the same as Klara’s. The sunlight shone openly on them that day. It wasn’t a special day in particular, but Cordelia remembers watching them as they played with young Klara. Even before Klara could walk, she always wanted to be in the grass. When she finally could stand, she had such an adventurous spirit—just like her great-grandmother, Cordelia likes to think. A small smile pulls at her thin lips. Charles would run after Klara, scooping her into his arms. They had all been happy once upon a time. He had been happy.
Cordelia closes her eyes, pushing the memory back, as a small tear escapes, falling down her wrinkled cheek.
“What is your favorite thing?” Eddie asks.
“My favorite thing?” Klara questions, unsure of what he means.
“Yeah. What do you like? What do you do for fun?” The corners of Eddie’s lips rise into an easy smile, which spreads to his eyes.
It is a genuine question, and Klara doesn’t hesitate in her answer.
“That’s easy. I read.”
“What type of books?” Eddie asks casually, bending one knee up and resting his elbow on it, the other leg staying outstretched in front of him.
“My favorites are children’s literature. I read classic romances and adventure books, too, but they tell a story differently in younger literature.” Klara speaks quickly and has to consciously slow herself down. She can’t help the excitement that comes with talking about the thing she loves most in the world.
Eddie’s brows furrow at her response. After all, children’s books? “What’s your favorite book then?”
“My most favorite book is Peter Pan.”
“My mum used to read that book to me,” Eddie says with a grin, liking that they have something in common.
“My mum did, too. That is one of the reasons it is my favorite.” Klara smiles at the thought of her mother. “But I think I like it most because Peter is a dark character for a children’s novel. There are so many dark nuances to the story, yet it is a most fun and adventurous book, filled with magic and endless possibilities. I love that you can go along on adventures through stories. Get lost in other worlds. Don’t you agree?”
“To be quite honest, I don’t read much. In fact, it’s one of my least favorite courses in school.” Eddie laughs out the words, but he wears a devilish grin, and his eyes twinkle with amusement.
“No! That can’t be true!” Klara laughs out loud, surprised by his honesty and a little taken aback.
“But, to be fair, the way you describe it, I might never have given reading a full-hearted chance. With the way you talk about it, I might have to give it another go.” Eddie smiles, enjoying teasing her. English is his least favorite of courses, but now, he feels like maybe he is missing out on something. Or maybe he would just do anything because Klara suggested it. Either or, he supposes.
“Then, what is your favorite thing?” Klara questions with her eyebrows raised, a smirk on her face.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Eddie says, making Klara let out a giggle, “it’s football. Hands down. My best mate, Mattie, is on the team with me. And I don’t hate working with my father. Actually, anything outdoors I really quite like. You seem to enjoy it just as much, yeah?”
Klara likes how easygoing Eddie is. At first, she was taken aback when he teased her, but it’s surprisingly fun to relax in that way with someone. Klara’s eyes brighten, and she nods to answer his question. “I love spending time outside. Are you quite good at football?”
“I like to think I am,” Eddie banters back.
“Then, I would like to come see one of your matches!” she says.
“Are you saying, you will only come see me play if I am good?” Eddie’s eyes widen, and he puts his hand across his heart, as though Klara hurt his feelings. And, not that it matters, but Eddie is more than a good player. He’s one of the best on his team.
Klara bursts out laughing but manages to pronounce to him, “Absolutely.”
A few moments later, Klara watches the geese waddle toward them from the pond. “Oh, look! Now, it is time for introductions. This one is Wendy. You saw her swimming yesterday.” She points toward a white goose walking in their direction. Its webbed feet march against the grass as her eyes narrow in on the basket sitting next to Klara. “Here, you can feed her straight from your hand,” Klara says, dipping her hand into the weaved basket and then dumping seeds from her hand into his. Two more geese move closer, and Klara points out each one. “That one is
John. And this is the youngest, Michael.”
Eddie watches her eyes twinkle at the sight of the geese. Her fondness toward them is infectious, and he smiles while sprinkling some of the seeds across the grass, enjoying the feeling of it sliding through his fingers onto the ground. Eddie keeps a little left in his palm and flattens it open, extending it toward Wendy. “Here you go,” he says as she hesitantly approaches, eyes glued to his. He can already tell this one is in charge.
“Oh, look at that,” Klara coos at him. “I think she likes you.”
“It’s not a surprise really.” Eddie grins back at her, but, in truth, he is actually surprised with himself. Just this morning, he couldn’t get his foot out of his mouth, but he has quickly become more relaxed. Being outside with the breeze and their easy conversation has made him feel sort of at home, which makes no sense, seeing as his house and family are nothing similar to the Kentwoods and their estate. “So, you really do love Peter Pan, don’t you?” he asks, knowing she named the geese after characters in the book. He smiles broadly as the contents of his hand are emptied by the goose.
“I really do. But I have other favorites as well,” Klara says, bringing her thin finger to her rosy lips in contemplation. She seems momentarily dazed, but Eddie notices when the lightbulb goes on, and she brings her gaze back to his. “The Complete Tales of Winnie-The-Pooh, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and The Tale of Peter Rabbit.”
“What about romance? I thought girls were supposed to love novels where Prince Charming sweeps you off your feet,” Eddie teases lightheartedly.
“I don’t need a Prince Charming,” Klara states matter-of-factly. “I’m perfectly happy as I am,” she says with her chin held high, showing that she truly believes what she says. And she does. Klara has never wanted someone to save her. If anything, she wants someone to go on adventures with. Not necessarily traveling far and wide, across seas and continents, like her grandmother did, but the kind of adventures that can take place right here, at home, near her perfect small town.
“I like that,” Eddie tells her as his gaze stays focused on Klara’s face.
She intrigues him. He would have thought she was the type of girl to get lost in fairy tales that included true love and happily ever afters. But he gets the feeling her heart is more wild than that.
“Goodness, I almost forgot we’re to have tea with Grandmother. We’d better get inside,” Klara says, grabbing on to Eddie’s hand as she stands, helping pull him up with her.
His hand is callous and rough against hers, and it sends a shiver through her arm.
“Grandmother,” Klara greets her with a warm smile and drops a peck on her thin cheek.
Cordelia is wearing her silk purple dress and seated on the mustard-yellow couch in the reception room. It’s the same room that Klara dragged Eddie through on their long journey into the dining room. Her hands are crossed over her knees, and she peers up at Eddie through her spectacles.
“Grandmother, I’d like to introduce you to Eddie. Eddie, this is my grandmother, Cordelia.”
Eddie isn’t quite sure what to do as he stands in front of her, and she is seated, but she extends her bracelet-clad hand. As Eddie goes to shake it, he realizes she is holding the back of her hand up toward him, so he drops his face and plants a quick kiss on it.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, his cheeks turning rosy.
Klara’s smile brightens at her grandmother’s look of contentment.
“Pleasure. Klara tells me you work with your father, Eddie,” Cordelia says as Klara and Eddie take a seat in the matching mustard couch across from her. A round coffee table sits between them, cluttered with trinkets and a low, long vase spilling with wildflowers.
“Yes. I am working for him even more over the holiday, and after I’m finished with school, I will help run the business alongside him.”
“Landscaping. That’s good work,” Cordelia says matter-of-factly. While not something she would aspire toward, she can appreciate someone who feels fulfillment from a full day’s work outdoors. There’s something about getting your hands dirty, though she would hardly admit that to anyone.
“Isn’t it, Grandmother?” Klara happily coos out. “So, Grandmother, would you like to tell Eddie about our work on your memoirs?” she pushes, trying to help guide the conversation. If Klara knows anything, it is that her grandmother loves to reminisce upon her past.
“Oh, yes.” Cordelia smiles, her thoughts wandering from the boy to her own book. “It is something of a project, but Klara is just a jewel at helping me write it.”
“Yes, every day, Grandmother and I try to add a new scene. The book starts the day she ran away to Egypt to marry an archaeologist.” Klara raises her eyebrows as Eddie smirks at the thought of the scandal.
“Wow,” Eddie says. Cordelia is as much a mystery to him as Klara is, and they are both quite intriguing.
As Cordelia opens her mouth to speak, the server Eddie saw sitting in the kitchen with Nana at his foot enters the room. He’s carrying a tray that, if it were to fall, it would cause quite the mess. It’s filled with a teapot, teacups, and a gold-rimmed plate towering full of shortbread.
Once everything is set in its proper place upon the table, Cordelia continues, “Yes, my marriage to my first husband, Albert, was quite the scandal,” she says, eyeing both Klara and Eddie over her teacup as she brings it to her lips. Her long fingernails are painted bright red, matching a few of the bracelets stacked upon her wrist. “I ran away to marry him, you see, but fate intervened and tore us apart. But, it eventually led me to your great-grandfather,” Cordelia says with a tight smile.
“It’s all just so romantic. And exotic!” Klara gushes, taking a sip of her tea. She feels such wonderment for the life her grandmother lived. If only she had the strength to be so bold and independent. “But, each day, we end up writing a part of a different chapter. Just yesterday, we worked on her time spent in Paris.”
“That is amazing. It is nice you do it together,” Eddie says genuinely.
Cordelia is pleased with his enthusiasm but thinks that, while Eddie might be excited about her personal memoirs, her grandson is not. “I’m at the age where I want to share my experiences. I’ve lived a full life, and my stories deserve to be told—if not for my own entertainment, then for those in my family. Although Klara’s father couldn’t make his distaste in the idea more apparent,” she says, biting sharply into a shortbread.
“Oh, Grandmother. You know Father is just worried. He doesn’t want anything to soil the family name,” Klara says, trying to appease her. She has had this exact conversation with her grandmother many times before, and for such a strong woman, she wonders why his disapproval gets to Cordelia.
“Yes, my dear, a name that I gave to him. Yet he shows little respect about something that brings me daily entertainment.” Cordelia doesn’t raise her voice because that would just be improper, but there is a noticeable strain to it that makes it known she is stirred up over the situation.
“If it is any consolation, I would be delighted to read it,” Eddie adds, trying to bring back her spirits.
She gives him an acknowledging nod as the server steps back in the room with a silver tray, empty, except for a single letter lying flat in the middle. He bends down to present the platter to Cordelia, and she absentmindedly takes the letter into her hand.
Klara looks admiringly at Eddie. She likes that he will sit here and talk with Grandmother. And he even seems to be enjoying it. She knows her grandmother can be a little quirky at times, but she always means the best and happens to be the strongest woman Klara knows.
Eddie can feel Klara’s gaze land on him, and for a moment, he revels in the feeling of being admired, keeping his eyes focused forward. But, all too soon, he turns to meet her gaze and is met with a soft smile and those light-blue eyes.
“Oh, dear,” Grandmother gasps, gaining attention from both Klara and Eddie. Cordelia has one hand covering her mouth and the other holding open t
he letter.
“Grandmother, what is it?” Klara asks, her eyes darting between the letter and her grandmother’s face.
Cordelia can’t pull her eyes away from the letter, but she knows she must. She relaxes her expression, even as butterflies circle within her stomach, and her hand shakes slightly from astonishment. “It is … a friend. A friend from Istanbul wrote to me. Um, she’s taken ill,” Cordelia says, feeling a tinge of guilt.
But that’s not what is in the letter. This letter has something to do with her past, and she has no idea of what it could mean for her future. She delicately folds the letter but tightly grips it in her hands.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Grandmother,” Klara says sincerely.
“Don’t fuss over it, dear. I think all will be well. But, if you will both excuse me, I must go write back immediately.”
“Of course,” Klara says, standing with her grandmother.
“It was a pleasure, Eddie,” Cordelia says before quickly, as much as one can at the age of ninety-five, exiting the sitting room.
“How horrible,” Klara says, still standing, watching the doorway Cordelia just left through.
“It sounds like her friend will be all right though.” Eddie smiles at her. He folds his hands in his lap and checks his watch, shocked to see the time. “I actually have to go. I’ve got work in half an hour,” he says, standing up next to her.
“Oh, all right. Here, let me walk you out,” Klara responds with a saddened smile. She has enjoyed his company. But the thought of having a peaceful lunch and reading under her favorite tree in the woods brightens her mood, and by the time they make it to the front door, she is back to her spirited self.