by Ann Mullen
“Okay? Aren’t you going to ask Dad? What about ground rules?”
“I told you before, we’d love it. No rules. You’re an adult. You don’t need me to tell you how to behave.”
Within a blink of an eye, I had changed my life. I was going to live in a new place, meet new people, get a new job, and hopefully, meet a man. If all else failed, I still had the dog.
By Wednesday, I had notified my landlord that I was leaving. My car was packed with everything I owned except the washer, and with my dog in tow, we headed out for a new life.
Oh... if I’d only known then..........
Chapter 3
Leaving Tidewater was an empty and sad experience. I expected to pick up and head out without having the least bit of reluctance, but as the miles flew by and the past was left behind, I began to feel as if I was losing a little bit of myself. I guess I was. The closer I got to Stanardsville and a chance at a new life, the more I realized that what I thought I was losing was something that would be with me no matter what. I guess that’s why they’re called memories.
Athena didn’t fare too well on the trip. I wish someone had told me it wasn’t a good idea to feed a dog before you put one in a car, especially for three hours. An hour into the drive, she turned to me with a pitiful look on her face, leaned her head to one side and then threw up. Bodily functions excreted from either man or beast will cause me to react in a most unpleasant way. Usually, I gag. I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t handle those awful sounds. It never bothered me before to change a diaper for one of Claire’s kids, but once either one of them barfed; I was a goner.
Does that mean when I get married my husband will have to get up in the middle of the night with one of the kids when they get sick, because their mother will throw up, too? There goes that biological clock, again. Tick... Tick...
Man, what a life. I’m thirty-one; on the road with a dog that’s not really mine; going to live with my parents—again; in a town so small, I wondered if it was even on the map. The ride was pretty. In a couple of weeks we’d be celebrating Memorial Day, the official start of the summer season. As we turned onto Rt. 33, I noticed the forsythia was just beginning to sprout blooms. Back in Tidewater, the daffodils had already bloomed, died back, and the tulips and daylilies had started to blossom. Azaleas were at their peak. It’s funny how you notice these things.
Almost to our destination, we made a right turn onto Rt. 230, drove for a couple of miles, made a left turn onto South River Road and within minutes, had reached our destination—home sweet home.
Athena couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. My legs were stiff and I had to go to the bathroom. I got the strange sensation that the atmosphere here had changed, or was it my attitude about the place?
I got out, stood by my car and looked around. This had to be God’s country. It was beautiful. The house had at least an acre of cleared land surrounding it, with a few cedar trees left here and there, obviously for shade. Beyond the realm of the yard, blooming Dogwood trees were clustered everywhere you looked. They were nestled between endless amounts of huge Pine, Tulip Poplar, and Cedar trees. I spotted Redbud trees covered with small purple flowers; just enough to add color to gaps between the larger trees. In the skyline of all this scenery, were the mountain peaks. I was truly mesmerized. Where have I been all my life? The freshness of the air and the clean feeling you got when you took a deep breath was like no other smell I’ve ever experienced. Oh, no! I’ve crossed over! I was transforming! I knew I had because I remembered hearing that statement somewhere. Was it in a movie perhaps?
I pulled myself from the stupor I’d fallen into and started gathering my belongings out of the car, trying not to inhale the gross, permeating smell coming from the front passenger seat and floorboard. I would have to clean up the remnants of Athena’s lunch soon, or it was only going to get worse.
I followed Mom and Dad inside the house as they carried the few items packed in the van that they didn’t want the movers to haul.
“Your room’s upstairs on the right, honey, unless you want the other one,” Mom said. “The bedroom furniture you had at home’s up there, except for the personal stuff you left behind. We packed all that in boxes and had the movers store them in the cubbyholes. Remember those?”
“Yes, I remember. That’s a lot of room for storage. Tell me the story of how they came about,” I said, making conversation as I walked upstairs.
“Something about building the roof with such a steep pitch so the snow wouldn’t accumulate and be too heavy. That way the snow would just slide down the roof. When you have a roof with that kind of pitch, you end up with a ship’s cabin effect in the upstairs rooms. Why not use it to your advantage? Mr. James enclosed that space and added access doors, so now the space isn’t wasted.”
“That was very astute of Mr. James. I would think you’d have to have an enormous amount of snow to justify constructing a roof such as this. I sure wouldn’t want to have to climb on the roof to make repairs or do whatever people do when they climb up on roofs. Wait a minute, are you telling me they have a lot of snow here?”
“A neighbor fellow named Fred stopped by when we were here once before and said they had twenty-two inches of snow overnight last winter. The snowfall stopped by the time it was daylight and had already settled to the point where he couldn’t get his car out of the driveway. He also said it wasn’t like that all the time.”
That ought to be interesting. The only snow we ever got in Tidewater was maybe a flurry or two in February, and we never got any around Christmas... except the year we had the ice storm. It had started raining on December the 23rd, and by Christmas Eve, the rain had turned to ice. By Christmas Day, almost everybody’s Christmas dinner was celebrated by candlelight. Every household in Tidewater lost electricity. Some residents lost power for only a couple of hours, but others lost it for as many as five days. The majority of the residents were in the latter category.
However, I was fortunate to only lose mine for just a few hours. That happened at a time when I didn’t own a personal computer. I had friends who were online at the time and their computers crashed, forcing them to spend huge amounts of money to salvage their life, a life they had stored in one little box. How ridiculous, I thought, until I finally joined the twenty-first century. That’s when I purchased a surge protector for my computer.
The next two hours were spent hauling and unpacking. At five o’clock, Mom busied herself in the kitchen preparing what would be the best meal I’d eaten in days. I guess that’s why I’m so thin—food is not my first priority in life. I eat only when I get hungry. Of course, if I could just sit down to a gourmet feast without having to do anything in its preparation, I’d probably weigh a hundred pounds more than I do.
Cooking’s not one of my attributes. Microwave dinners are meals I know something about. Takeout is me at my best. Unfortunately, I think takeout would be taboo in this little corner of the world. The nearest takeout is twenty minutes away, and delivery... you have to be kidding!
From what Mom has told me, we’re out in the country and if we want anything other than the companionship of our neighbors, we have to go to town. In town, they have a grocery store, video rental place, gas station, and a Dollar General Store.
Across the street is the school area. The schools are housed in a little community environment, separated into three sections—elementary, middle, and high school. Down the road, in the middle of town, is a post office, library, police station, and a few odds and ends stores, along with a dental office, the courthouse, and a couple of law offices.
That’s pretty much it.
All these places are so close together, you could put all of them in one mini-mall anywhere, any town, USA.
Strangely, when we stopped in town to fill our gas tanks for our trip home, the first and only time I’d been here until now, I noticed people in the store talked to each other like they were best friends or knew each other in a more personal way than I did. I had a feeling
one day I’d be among that select group of Bubbas and Mamas—country folk who were friendly and had no teeth.
You know the drill. Later, I’d come to realize what a jerk I’d been for thinking that way. You’re never too young or too old to learn something new about yourself. I always seem to learn the hard way.
“Dinner’s ready,” Mom yelled.
It was at that moment that I thought about Athena. I was so busy unpacking, I had forgotten about her. I hope she didn’t run off, or worse, be lying in the road, dead. She’s not used to having all this free space to run loose. I ran downstairs, opened the front door and called her name.
“She’s right here in the kitchen, Jesse. She came inside looking thirsty, so I put a bowl of water down for her.”
“I guess she is. She’s probably hungry, too. Whatever she had in her stomach before the trip is now on the seat and floor of my car.”
I walked over to the table where Dad was sitting and sat down. Athena was curled up on the floor beside him. Mom had a smile on her face. “I think she’s found a new home, and a couple of new friends. We’ve always liked animals, but with your brother’s allergies we could never have any. Once he left home, we never thought about getting a pet. Now, well... she’s just so lovable.” I could tell Athena had found herself a permanent home and the love of a good family.
We dined on a quickly thrown together meal of fried pork chops, mashed potatoes with gravy and sweet peas. It was wonderful. It seems the movers also moved the food along with the furniture. For that, I was so thankful. I was starving. I allowed Athena to have some of the leftover pork chop bones, outside, of course—something I normally wouldn’t do because I know that feeding a dog people food isn’t good for them. I heard that somewhere. Usually, Becky and I dined on fast food most of the time and the only thing we had to feed the dog was dog food. What can I say?
After dinner, dishes and small chitchat, I retreated to my room. I put clean sheets on the bed, hung up my clothes in the closet, stuffed boxes of junk I didn’t want to deal with in my cubbyholes, and began the task of hooking up my computer. Fortunately, everything went well and in no time I was back online. I was beginning to get the hang of this computer business. One day, I’d like to be able to hack into something and not get caught. It’s a bad idea... I know.
As the day ran into night, I lay in bed thinking. Now that I’m here, I have to think about what I’m going to do about my life. I have to get a job. Tomorrow, I’ll go to town and get a newspaper to check out the help wanted ads. I’m sure I can find something to tide me over, or maybe I’ll get lucky and find a decent job. I still have a nice little nest egg stashed away in my savings for a rainy day, but without a job, the clouds will start to move in quickly. Saving money has always been easy and something I made myself do. I avoided buying anything useless, like fancy clothes or a new car. The only jewelry I own are the two pairs of pierced earring sets that I got as gifts and a watch I bought at the drug store. The last thing I thought about before I fell asleep was the ladybugs. I hadn’t seen any! Wonder where they’re hiding?
I slept with the windows open, allowing the cool, sweet smell of spring to flow through my room. I awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and other noises echoing from the woods. A cow mooed from somewhere off in the distance. Was I living on a farm? I half expected to see a rooster perched on the roof.
I went to the bathroom that separated the two bedrooms upstairs and took a shower. The water was refreshing. I was ready to start the day.
Downstairs, Mom was fixing breakfast.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“He’s outside sitting in the swing, drinking his coffee and reading the paper. Are you ready for breakfast? I’m making bacon, eggs, and grits.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had grits. I think the last time I had grits was when I was living at home.” I poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “Where did Dad get a newspaper?”
“We had that arranged before we moved here. The Daily Report has been delivering us a paper since Monday, so if you want to read one, go see your dad. He has four day’s worth.”
“I’ll wait until after breakfast. What can I do to help?”
“I don’t know. What can you do to help?”
“You know what I mean. For an old country girl you’re pretty smart. You know I can’t cook,” I said as I winked at her. Mom had dropped out of school in the ninth grade to help on the farm, but when she met Dad, he insisted she go back to school to finish her education. She had been the oldest in her class to graduate, but she took pride in her accomplishment. I always liked to remind her of how smart I thought she was.
After breakfast, Mom insisted I leave cleaning the kitchen to her. I got another cup of coffee and went out on the porch with Dad to read the paper.
“Come here and sit on the swing with me. We can read our papers together,” Dad said. “It’s been a while since you and I had the time to sit down like this. Remember the weekend we all spent at Grandma and Grandpa Watson’s house at the lake? You were the only one I could get to go fishing with me. We sat out on that pier for so long, your knees got sunburned real bad, and your mom gave me the dickens over it. She wouldn’t talk to me for two days.”
“That was a long time ago,” I said. For just a minute, I could see a sadness come over him. “I know you must miss Gramps and Granny. I sure do. I think about them sometimes, especially when I smell homemade pies cooking in the oven. Granny use to make the best pies and Gramps used to tell the worse jokes.” That got a laugh out of Dad. A few years back, Gramps died of a heart attack and a year later, Granny died. Dad says it was from a broken heart, because she missed Gramps so much.
“Let’s talk about something else. This is too sad to think about on such a beautiful day,” I whispered.
“You’re right. We need to start our first day here on a happy note. How about you and I go over to the pond later and do some fishing?”
“You have a pond?”
“No, but the man next door does. He said we could fish anytime we want. His name’s Burt Crampton and he lives in Louisa County. He’s divorced. He has about thirty acres. He has some man down the road look after the place since he doesn’t live here all the time.”
“I’d love to go fishing, but first, I need to look through the paper and see if I can find a job.”
“What’s the hurry? You have plenty of time. You need to take a few days, relax and enjoy this country life. Have you noticed the ladybugs are gone?”
“No, I didn’t notice.” I looked around.
We were reading the paper, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sounds around us, when Mom walked out, coffee cup in hand and sat down in one of the wicker chairs. “Are you two enjoying yourselves?”
“Very much,” I said. “Dad and I are going fishing later. Want to come?”
“No, I don’t think so! I can tell you right now, I’m not cleaning any fish, and we’re not cooking any nasty smelling fish in the house. Y’all can cook those stinky things on that fancy new grill your dad bought last summer,” Mom blurted out. Dad and I looked at each other and laughed. Mom couldn’t stand the smell of fish.
In the distance, I heard the rumblings of what sounded like a motorcycle. Seconds later, two ATVs with a man and woman on each, pulled up in the yard.
“Hey, there’s that fellow, Fred, from down the road,” Dad said as he stood up and walked to the steps to greet them. Fred and the rest of the group got off their bikes and approached the porch.
“Howdy, folks,” Fred said. “This is my wife, Dolores.” Pointing to the other couple he announced, “This here is Ralph, and his wife, Carol Mitchell. We thought we’d drop by and say hello. See if there was anything we could do to help you get settled in.”
Dad introduced us to our new neighbors. All greetings aside, I couldn’t help but notice their appearances. Fred, dressed in camouflage pants and a green, ragged T-shirt, was a short, rugged looking man with dark curly h
air and a deep scar on his right cheek. The scar led me to believe he might have taken a nasty tumble off that bike of his at some point in time. Both men had a gun strapped to their hips and small coolers strapped to their bikes, obviously packed with beer, since both of them simultaneously pulled one out and after offering us one, began to drink. Dolores was short, a little plump, had a pretty face and a head full of the most beautiful red hair I’d ever seen. I was instantly envious. Carol and Ralph was a head taller than their two friends and much more slender. Carol had short, black hair, legs that never stopped and an attitude to match. She knew she was pretty. Ralph was at least 6’3", slim, and had brown hair, tied back in a short ponytail. His mannerisms were charming and I got the impression he was a womanizer. He had blue eyes that appeared to bore right through you. At least, they all had their teeth, which killed my theory about mountain people not having a full set. Live and learn.
Chapter 4
After an hour of conversation, I learned that Fred and Dolores had two teenage girls, fourteen and sixteen years old, while Ralph and Carol remained childless—by choice. Both couples had moved to the mountains around ten years ago from different states and have been friends ever since. What a crew. After talking to them, I was convinced they were honest, easy going, and interesting people. I’m going to have to stop going by my first impressions. I know looks can be deceiving. That’s what Mom always said.
As they got on their bikes to leave, Fred yelled out to us, “We’re going target shooting up at Ralph’s place. Why don’t you guys come with us?”
Not wanting to tell Mom and Dad that I’d purchased a gun a few months ago when someone tried to break into my apartment, I just said, “I’m afraid I don’t know how to use a gun properly.”
“Come on, and we’ll teach you,” he offered.
I glanced over at Mom, and to my surprise she said, “Go ahead, Jesse. It wouldn’t hurt for you to learn how to shoot a gun.” She then smiled at Fred. “I think Mack and I’ll stay here. We still have some unpacking to do.” She looked back at me. “Your dad and I purchased a gun last year and had been taking lessons at the shooting gallery in Hampton, until we moved here.” I was speechless. My Mom owning a gun was a shock. She never said a word to me about buying a gun. All of a sudden, I had this picture of her and my dad with two cowboy guns strapped to their hips, like something out of a Roy Rogers and Dale Evans movie. I hadn’t been in the mountains two full days and I was already getting an education. What next?