Tell Me About Orchard Hollow

by Lin Stepp

  “I guess you’re probably right.” Jenna agreed, with a resigned sigh. “And maybe I’ve needed someone outside my life to simply tell me the honest truth. I’ve made too many dumb excuses for Elliott for too long, I think.”

  Charlotte patted her on the hand. “Well, I agree with that, and I’m glad to hear you saying it. He just sounds like an awful person, Jenna. What possessed you to ever marry him anyway?”

  “I guess I was just stupid,” Jenna answered glumly. “Like you said.” She teared up as she acknowledged this, despite her efforts not to. “I don’t know why I didn’t see more clearly what Elliott was like, Charlotte. I keep beating myself up about this all the time, about why I wasn’t more discerning. About how everyone could see what Elliott was like except me.”

  “Now you go and quit that crying.” Charlotte came over to give her a hug. “My Granny Oliver says that there is no shame in making mistakes in this life. It’s just a natural thing. But it’s what we do after we make them that’s really important. You’re wiser and smarter now about men, and you’ll be more careful about who you choose another time around.”

  Jenna looked at her in alarm. “Oh. I don’t think I’ll ever want to be married again, Charlotte.”

  “Well, look in the mirror and try telling yourself that again.” Charlotte gave her an appraising look. “You can’t keep bees from buzzing around good honey. And, girl, you are beautiful, sweet, and good. The bees are gonna come a buzzin’. And eventually one will get to you. That’s just the way it is. Besides, there are a lot of good men out there. They’re not all like Elliott.”

  “You’re becoming a really good friend, Charlotte.” Jenna smiled at her.

  Charlotte grinned back. “Well, if I am, maybe you’ll invite me to come up to New York City to see you one day. I’ve never been north of Kentucky or west of the Mississippi River, and I’d like to see a big city once in my life.”

  Jenna laughed, remembering this earlier conversation with Charlotte.

  As if on cue, the phone rang and Charlotte’s voice greeted Jenna. “Hi, how’s your day going?”

  “It’s going slow, and I was just sitting here thinking about you when you called.”

  Charlotte laughed. “Well, you see, that’s why I called. You messaged me and I caught it. Like a shooting star in the sky. What were you remembering about me?”

  “How you wanted to come to New York,” she answered tactfully. Then she plunged on. “I’m going to leave Elliott, Charlotte, and I think I’ve found a little apartment I can rent close to some of my friends in the neighborhood I already know. It won’t be a big apartment, but maybe I can fly you up for a visit with me later if you could leave Jennie Rae and Tyler Dean for a few days.”

  Charlotte paused before answering. “Well, Jenna, that would be real fine if it works out. And I’m proud you’ve finally decided to divorce Elliott, but I’d be happier if you’d stay here. Maybe a change down here would be good for you. Then you’d never have to see that snake, Elliott Howell, again. Raynelle said you had a bloom in your cheeks now that you’ve been with us here for a while. It might be that our little area of the world agrees with you.”

  “I think you’re probably right, Charlotte. But I have a lot of things to take care of and clear up in New York. And, besides, there’s Sam.”

  Charlotte’s voice brightened. “Raynelle says Sam’s a lot better. Maybe you could bring him back with you for a visit soon. He’d love to come down here, and if you traveled with him, maybe he would.”

  Jenna looked out the window to see the rain increasing. “That’s something I might try to do later. I’d love for Sam to be able to come back to his cabin again for a visit.”

  Charlotte interrupted. “Listen, Jenna, this is really why I called. I need to go over to Maryville to try to get the kids some Easter clothes on Monday. You know, Easter’s next Sunday, and I need to get some things for them to wear for Easter church. I was hoping you would go with me, in case I need to get Tyler Dean into the dressing room or something. You could watch Jennie Rae and help me out. I know it’s a lot to ask, but it’s really hard doing any shopping with two kids all by yourself. The last time I went over to Maryville, I had a time of it. I lost Tyler Dean while I was changing Jennie Rae and I found him up a construction ladder outside the store, trying to help the sign man change the store sign. I thought I’d have a heart attack.”

  “You don’t have to try to convince me any further,” said Jenna, laughing. “I’ll go with you. I like to go shopping, anyway.”

  Charlotte giggled. “Well, don’t expect to get much done with the kids along with us,” she told her. “Plus I have to go thrift shopping since I’m not working for any mad money right now. I really miss my check from the gallery.”

  Jenna thought about that after she hung up. When she’d gotten her first two-week check here, she’d been shocked. First, she hadn’t expected a check for filling in, and second, it wasn’t much after taxes and withholding.

  Charlotte said, “Boyce pays real good compared to a lot of places around Townsend.” However, Jenna knew she got about that same amount for creating only four of her card designs. It gave her a new perspective about her work when comparing it to the wages of people here in the mountains.

  It was another of the reasons Jenna had kept her design work quiet. She enjoyed working at the gallery, and she didn’t want to let people think she devalued it by comparing it negatively to her other work. Besides, it gave Jenna a confidence boost to think that if people could make it on such small incomes, she might make it on her own with the work she could do. Elliott often ridiculed Jenna for the compensation Park Press paid for her card designs, but in comparison to salaries and compensation here, she was paid well. Jenna knew Charlotte would be in awe that Jenna made as much as she did for a part-time job.

  The rain stopped, and shortly after, a steady stream of tourists and locals dropped by the gallery to browse and shop. A couple from Michigan went into raptures over Boyce’s paintings and bought two for a room they were redecorating. They took several of Boyce’s catalogs so they could order a few more prints after they returned home. Two ladies from West Virginia bought birdhouses, and a young couple in hiking clothes took home a small painting of a waterfall they had just walked to on a hike behind Gatlinburg.

  “You can walk right behind this falls and then up the trail behind it.” The young girl’s voice was bright with enthusiasm.

  “Yeah, it is way cool,” pronounced the boy. “If you haven’t been there, you should go. It’s called Grotto Falls. It’s a good trail. And it’s right behind Gatlinburg.”

  The girl chimed in. “We went down into Gatlinburg and watched them make homemade taffy right in the window of this store, too. There’s this big machine that pulls it and then wraps it and everything. And they gave free samples after they finished. While it was still hot and gooey. Ummmm.”

  They oozed excitement and talked about what they’d done on vacation the whole time they browsed the store. It made Jenna realize how few places she had visited in the Smokies since she arrived. She needed to get a map and some tourist books and make some plans. After all, she only had a few weeks more to explore.

  She smiled, remembering Boyce promised to take her on a hike with him tomorrow. He wanted to go to some trail known for its spring wildflowers to sketch and take some pictures to work from. Also, she was invited over to Boyce’s tonight to try his homemade chili recipe. He claimed she’d fed him so often, it was his turn to feed her tonight. This was also his month to host the neighbors on Orchard Hollow Road. Sara and Will Lansky and the Hester’s were coming to dinner, too. Boyce told Jenna that every month one of them hosted a get-together at one of their homes. It promised to be a nice weekend.

  Una came in the door of the gallery, balancing a load of books across her arm. She was working for Jim tonight, since Jim had an accounting meeting over in Maryville. All the employees were good friends here at the gallery, and they often traded shifts with eac
h other when it was needed.

  “I hope it’s quiet tonight.” She pushed the door shut with her foot. “I need to study for an exam.”

  Jenna tucked the card design she had been working on quickly under the desk calendar. Una plopped her book bag and books down on top of the calendar, and Jenna realized she’d probably have to retrieve her card design later or risk possible explanations with Una. Not that it mattered. She often left a card design or two she was working on here at the gallery, and she had several others she needed to finish back at the cabin before this one, anyway.

  She visited with Una for a little while, ran by the store for milk and eggs, and started home to the cabin at Orchard Hollow. She caught her own thoughts on the word “home.” The cabin had begun to seem like home to Jenna. In many ways it seemed more like a home to Jenna than any place she’d ever lived. Here in the quiet of the mountains, she seemed able to really be herself. She knew she would miss this place when she went back to New York.

  Chapter 8

  After running a few errands, Boyce stopped by the gallery on his way home. The rain stopped finally, and the sky had cleared. This cheered him, because he was hosting all his Orchard Hollow friends at his house for dinner tonight. His homemade chili simmered in a big crock pot in his kitchen, and he’d picked up a few bottles of good wine and some fresh bread to go with it. He cajoled Myrtle, at the Lemon Tree, into making one of her apple and lemon stack cakes to serve for dessert. Boyce felt eager for some rest and relaxation on a Friday night after a long work week.

  He’d enjoyed an exceptionally good day in the studio. He finished a painting he thought he might call Rafting in the Smokies - of tubers floating around a turn called the Wye in the Little River above Townsend. It was a popular Smokies spot for summer tubing, picnicking, sunning, and water fun. Last summer, Boyce made extensive preliminary sketches at the Wye. He’d also snapped dozens of pictures of the tourists and locals floating the creek, their rental tubes a riot of color bouncing among the eddies and cascades of the stream. He thought he captured the joy and color of the event in the painting, and the beauty of the spot. It was a happy painting of the pleasures of summertime in the mountains – the tubers’ faces wreathed in smiles, their noses and skin touched with red from hours in the sun. It made him think of all the good times he and his brothers and sisters shared tubing and playing at that same spot on a hot summer’s day.

  Slipping into his work and into old memories helped him keep his mind off Jenna Howell. He reminded himself over and over that she was still officially Mrs. Jenna Howell, a married woman and thus off limits. From what Boyce heard through the grapevine, and from the occasional comments Jenna made to him, she still hadn’t made up her mind what she planned to do about the marital situation in her life.

  Raynelle told him how Jenna’s husband cheated on her time and again. It made Boyce angry that Jenna had trouble making the decision to leave a man like that. The girl allowed herself to be manipulated and controlled by people in her life who did not have her best interests at heart. He found this aspect of her exasperating. Why did she allow this? Usually, he disliked weakness and indecisiveness in others, but Jenna mowed over all his rational thinking, and his physical response to her was acute.

  She bombarded his senses. She bewitched him with her dark, gypsy-like attractiveness and those full lips. Her habit of licking her lips to wet them and her way of putting two fingers up to her mouth while thinking drove him wild. It was tragic how he noticed everything about her, how preoccupied with her he had become. Her deep brown eyes reflected her every emotion and there were little golden flecks in them in the sunlight. He could swim in those eyes. Her hair swung just below her shoulders - rich, thick, and black. He liked the way she wore it bound back in neat chignons or braided most of the time, but one evening when he stopped by to take some firewood in for her, she’d let it down. She’d been dressed in a silk-patterned robe with nothing underneath. He nearly swallowed his tongue. When he accidentally brushed against her coming through the door, and caught her eye afterwards, he’d seen her reaction. She drew a quick intake of breath, her eyes widened and she crossed her arms over her breasts instinctively protecting herself.

  Boyce wasn’t stupid about women. He knew she was attracted to him and trying to hide it, just as he was. He’d seen her watching him when she thought he wasn’t looking over the last weeks, and he had seen hunger and yearning in her eyes. That made it worse, knowing she hid feelings from him. He thought he could probably seduce her. Jenna tried to project a careful, polished image, but Boyce could see that underneath there was a neediness in her. She was a woman hungry for love, and it tempted him to know that about her. With her having that jackass of a husband, she probably hadn’t experienced the love and tenderness she deserved.

  That was part of the rub in the whole matter. A stubborn part of Boyce didn’t want her simply on the rebound - because she was needy and available. And he didn’t want to enjoy only a short-term fling with her. He knew she was going back to New York in May. Her husband returned then. Whatever Jenna did, she would have to deal with that situation. He hated to complicate things for her; he didn’t want to take advantage of her vulnerability. And Jenna was vulnerable. He’d never been around a woman who had all she had going for her and who thought so little of herself. It made him want to head for New York to lash out some harsh words to her husband, her family, and whoever else had caused her to have such low self-esteem.

  Boyce found it bittersweet to watch how Jenna blossomed while she stayed here in the mountains. She’d acted so jumpy and defensive when she first came, so quick to pull into some little shell, like a turtle pulling in to protect itself from harm - so used to watching out for predators. She hardly ever laughed when she first arrived and her smiles and facial gestures had often been false and posed. But he’d seen Jenna gradually relaxing here. He watched her realize people weren’t always waiting to criticize and judge her. It seemed to truly surprise her when people liked her for just who she was. Watching the changes in her felt like watching a tree bloom out after the cold of winter.

  As the weeks passed since her arrival at Sam’s place, Jenna even started to laugh and smile with ease. She learned to take teasing without prickling up, or even worse, without starting to cry. She began to tease back a little on her own. Working at the gallery seemed to help her, too. At first, she’d been terrified she might do something wrong, that she might be ridiculed and put down for any mistake. So, Boyce left her on her own after a short instructional time - to figure things out by herself. He thought she could use the confidence she would gain from that, and he was right. Work at the gallery had been good for her, and, she seemed to have an excellent gift for arrangement and design in the store. It made Boyce wonder what else she might be capable of.

  He stopped off at the gallery at around five. Una was working in the shop tonight, but Boyce wanted to check the mail that had come in during the day. He was expecting an order from one of his major clients, and, now that he’d finished the big painting he’d been working on, he was ready to think about his next project.

  “Hi, Boyce,” said Una, as he came in the doorway. She sat intently on the bench by the register, studying a textbook. “That order from the Haldeman Gallery came in today. It’s in the back.”

  Boyce went through the gallery to the back of the shop to sort through the mail and to read Gregor Haldeman’s note to him. The gallery owner wanted a new painting or two to display for a late summer showing - on a wildflower theme. The gallery continued selling his old works in print reproductions, but Gregor wanted a new original painting or two to hang in the main show if Boyce could make the deadline. Boyce knew anything he sold in Haldeman’s would bring in a big price. It was a prestigious gallery in Atlanta, and he was pleased they wanted his work in their new show. He’d get started on some new ideas right away.

  “How’s school?” he asked Una conversationally, as he came back out into the store front.

  �
�Fine,” she answered, looking up from her book with a smile. “Those new paintings of mine won a place in the art department’s spring show. The judges liked them just as you did.”

  “I told you that style was good,” he commented.

  She nodded. “Hey, when did you start doing byline work for the greeting card industry under a pseudonym?” she asked him.

  He sent her a puzzled look. “What are you talking about?”

  “This,” Una explained, pulling out a greeting card design from under the desk calendar. “I found it tucked away here when I was cleaning up. It doesn’t really look like your work, somehow – really detailed for you and more whimsical than your usual style.” She paused thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve seen some of these cards over at Raynelle’s in the Apple Barn, but I didn’t know you were doing them. How come you aren’t using your own name or letting us carry these over here at the gallery?”

  Boyce snatched the card to study it and frowned. “I didn’t draw this,” he told her. “Where did you say you found this?”

  “Under the desk calendar right here.” She gestured toward it. “Hey, Boyce, you don’t have to deny being a card designer if this is a new side line of yours. It’s nothing to be ashamed of in the art field. This work is really good. One of my drawing teachers made all of us bring in card designs we admired for an art class. He showed a card sort of like this and said it was incredible. He raved on and on about the meticulous detail and about all the hidden story meaning imbedded in the designs.…”

  Boyce interrupted her. “I’m telling you I didn’t draw this,” he snapped sharply. “It’s not my work. I think I’d know my own work when I saw it.”

  “Well, chill, Boyce.” Una answered with a little annoyance of her own. “You don’t have to get mad and snap my head off over it. What was I to think? It’s not like we have that many artists working in here. And if you didn’t draw it, then who did?”