Tell Me About Orchard Hollow

by Lin Stepp

  The cow bell on the door jangled as Boyce opened the door. Looking around, he saw Charles, and his oldest son Chuck, both at work in the shop. With the store always busy on Saturdays, Chuck worked all day with Charles much as Boyce used to do. Chuck looked a lot like his dad, tall and brown-headed like all the Hart men; he had Charles’ brown eyes and set, square jaw. Boyce never saw his brother Charles without seeing his father again. The resemblance between the two was strong.

  “Boyce, good to see you.” Charles came out from behind the counter to give Boyce a clap on the back and a brotherly hug. He studied Jenna with a raised eyebrow.

  “Charles, this is Jenna Martin,” Boyce said, purposely using Jenna’s maiden name in his introduction. “She’s Sam Oliver’s friend and staying up at his cabin. I was showing her a little of the Smokies today. We went over to Porter’s Creek Trail to check out the wildflowers.”

  “So, you’re Sam’s girl.” Charles gave Jenna a smile and grasped her hand in a warm handshake. “We’re all real fond of Sam around here. He and our mama are kin through marriage. So we think of Sam like family. I’m glad to meet you, Jenna.”

  “I’m glad to meet you, too, Charles,” Jenna said, giving Charles one of those soft, radiant smiles of hers that always made Boyce go a little weak in the knees. “Boyce told me a lot about your shop. But it’s much more interesting than I imagined it would be.” She looked around her at the rustic décor - packed full of signs, crafts, gift items, tourist paraphernalia, paintings, and screen-printed t-shirts, hats, and jackets.

  “Well, Boyce may have told you about the shop, but he failed to mention to any of us that you were knock dead gorgeous.” Charles gave Boyce a considering look. “I guess that’s why he’s kept you to himself and gotten you to work in the shop a day or two a week for him. He knew you’d attract more business. For example, my boy Chuck over there has been about to trip over himself looking at you ever since you came in.”

  “Chuck!” Charles called out. “Come over here and meet a friend of Boyce’s.”

  The boy came over, fumbling his hands in his jeans pockets and grinning. He shook Jenna’s hand shyly and gave a bearish hug to Boyce. They all made small talk for a few minutes, and then Chuck went back over to wait on a customer.

  “Man, I’m glad you came by,” Charles told Boyce, the niceties past. “Mama went over to town with Susan and the girls today and came back with some flats of flowers she wants set out. Do you think you could swing by and put them out for her? I’ll be at the store here until close, and Sterling has a baseball game we all want to go to. I told Mama I’d do it tomorrow, but she has some kind of notion that it’s going to rain tonight, and she wants them out today before the rain - so they’ll get set.”

  He looked apologetically to Jenna after his request.

  “I don’t mind if you need to go by your mother’s,” Jenna said graciously.

  “Traitor,” Boyce accused her, groaning. “I meant to use you as my excuse to get out of setting out plants again. Mama probably has four flats or more, knowing her.”

  “Well, too late now.” Charles slapped Boyce companionably on the back. “Besides, Mama has been wanting to meet Sam’s girl, anyway. It will make her day if you take Jenna by the house.”

  Boyce gave Jenna a sideways glance, then rolled his eyes and sighed. “You do remember, Jenna, that it was your idea to stop by here on our way home. So this is all your fault,” he told her teasingly. “Now, I guess we’ll have to run down the road to Mama’s before we go on home to Orchard Hollow.”

  Jenna smiled charmingly and shrugged.

  Charles looked apologetically at Jenna again. “Look, I really appreciate you taking time to go with Boyce to do this. Mama gets her mind set on something and she gets stubborn on us. It would be just like her to get out there and start setting those plants out herself if one of us doesn’t get over there before dark, and then she might get laid up in her back again.”

  “Well, you’ll owe Jenna for this.” Boyce laughed. “And you can pay her back by putting in a display rack of her card designs in here. Jenna is J. C. Martin, Charles, a well-known illustrator. She does a great line of free-hand greeting cards for Park Press out of New York. Raynelle carries her line over at the Apple Barn. I think they would go well here, too.”

  Jenna protested. “Oh, Boyce, please … he doesn’t have to do that,” she said, looking embarrassed as she always did whenever someone praised her art. Boyce wished she’d get over that and realize she was good at what she did. It annoyed him that she thought so little of her artwork.

  “You got yourself a deal.” Charles smiled at Jenna. “I’ll look at your cards when I’m over at the Apple Barn the next time, and I’ll get the order information from Raynelle. I could use another card line in here. Do you do any mountain related art – you know, things that make people think of the Smokies? That would sell good here.”

  Boyce answered for her. “Actually she’s been collecting new design ideas and doing some work while she’s been down here visiting. She just finished a great design of that old cluster of birdhouses I built for Sam Oliver on the stump where Orchard Hollow Road starts. Do you remember that?”

  “Lord, yeah. You made that back when you were just a kid like Chuck – about his same age, I think. Maybe eighteen.”

  “I can’t believe Chuck’s eighteen already.” Boyce blew out a breath. “He graduates this spring, doesn’t he?”

  Charles nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s something how time flies. And Sterling’s just turned fifteen and is driving us crazy wanting to get himself a learner’s permit to drive.”

  Boyce turned to Jenna, grinning mischievously. “Charles is getting ready to hit the big Four-O birthday this year. He and Vera married right after they finished high school, and they started their family before they had the sense to figure out it might have been a good idea to wait a bit. I helped babysit his kids when I was only in elementary school.”

  “I don’t think I’d rub that in too much, little brother,” Charles quipped back. “You’ve got the big Three-O birthday coming up this year yourself, and you haven’t even found a woman that will agree to marry your sorry self yet. And you’re the only one in the family that hasn’t got any kids. Maybe Jenna will have some mercy on you and decide to make an honest man out of you.”

  “Maybe she’ll just do that in time, if I’m lucky,” Boyce smarted back, watching the color rise up softly in Jenna’s face in embarrassment. “That is if all my sorry family doesn’t scare her off first with their bad manners.”

  There was some good-hearted laughing over this, and then Jenna excused herself to find what she called “a real restroom” before they left.

  “She’s a fine looking woman, Boyce,” Charles said after she was out of earshot. “But are you really going to get anywhere sniffing around a city girl? She’s bound to go back. Besides, I heard she’s been married before and that she’s been down here to get over that. I don’t want you getting involved in some kind of problem situation.”

  Boyce bristled defensively. “Who said I was getting involved?”

  “Your face whenever I caught you looking at her,” he answered flatly. “I didn’t help raise you not to know you pretty well. This is different than just flirting for you. There’s something going on here. And she colors up real prettily around you, too.”

  “Listen, I didn’t set out to be taken with her.” Boyce knew it was useless to be anything less than honest with Charles. “It was just the time for me to make a fool of myself, I guess. Jenna isn’t divorced yet either, so you’re right, there are complications. She’s been married to an older man that treated her like no man ought to treat a young girl, especially a sweet one like her. And she has scars and fears.”

  Charles rubbed a hand over his neck. “You always were a one to bring home the wounded animals. And help them heal up.”

  Boyce picked up a wooden toy from a display bin. “Well, I have my work cut out for me here. This Elliott she married di
d a number on her. He’s made her unsure of herself and scared of men. And, like you said, she’s a city girl. I don’t know if she’ll want to transplant.”

  Charles leaned against the store counter. “If she’s been treated badly, you need to let her get all her problems resolved before you move in on her. Don’t forget she’s Sam’s girl. He’s trusting us to take good care of her down here, not to let her get hurt more. Sam won’t thank you if you take advantage of this girl while she’s down here to heal.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.” Boyce dropped the toy back into the bin crossly. “But knowing all that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  Charles gave him a clap on the back. “Yeah, so smile and make a joke now because the object of our conversation is on her way back across the room.”

  It took only about five minutes to drive down Caldwell Road to the old Hart place. It was a big, yellow two-storied farmhouse set between spreading oak trees. A long front porch spanned the front of the house, and grey shutters and a grey door were the only adornments except for flowering dogwoods, shrubs, and flower beds full of tulips and daffodils.

  “As you can see, Mama is fond of her flowers,” said Boyce, swinging into the driveway.

  Two little girls came flying out of the house to launch themselves at Boyce as he got out of the car. They were two of his nieces and Boyce hugged and twirled them around while they squealed out their welcomes. On the porch, he could see his mother watching and smiling. She stood shorter than Boyce, a softly rounded woman, with a pleasant, full face and braids wrapped in a coronet around her head. She wore an apron over her dress and was wiping her hands on it as she came down the steps toward them.

  She shook a finger at the girls. “Alice, you and Sharon quit climbing all over Boyce and shrieking like that. Mind your manners. We have company.”

  The girls seemed to notice Jenna for the first time then and quieted down.

  “This must be Sam’s girl,” she continued, coming up to Jenna with a smile.

  Boyce made the introductions. “Jenna, this is my mother Ruth Hart. And Mother, this is Jenna Martin.”

  “I’ve been wondering when you were going to get around to bringing Sam’s girl over to see me,” Ruth said chidingly to Boyce. “Jenna, we’re delighted to meet you.”

  She hugged Jenna affectionately. “And these hooligan girls here are two of my granddaughters. Alice Gilbert, the dark-haired one, is eight, and Sharon Gilbert, the little, honey blond, just turned six.” She gave them a significant look.

  “Pleased to meet you,” they said almost in unison, making a renewed effort toward good manners.

  “Very nice.” His mother nodded at them in satisfaction.

  She turned to Boyce and gave him a motherly hug. “Did you go by Charles’ store?”

  He patted her cheek with affection as she stepped back. “Yes. I took Jenna up in the Smokies on a hike to see the wildflowers today, and I drove her back this way to see the valley. Charles said you had some plants you might want me to put out while I was here.”

  “That I do.” His mother’s eyes lit up. “Come on in to the house first, though. I’ve got fresh lemonade I made for the girls.”

  Alice tugged on Boyce’s arm for attention. “Guess what we’re doing?”

  He looked down at her. “What?”

  Her eyes brightened. “We’re dying Easter eggs.”

  “Lord, yes.” His mother rolled her eyes. “The girls got two of those egg dye sets when we went into town today, and I’ve got two dozen eggs cooling in the kitchen getting ready for them to dye and decorate.”

  They passed through a worn, comfortable living room and into a yellow and white kitchen. The kitchen opened into a big, sunny dining area dominated by a long wood table and chairs.

  “I’d sit you down in the living room proper,” Ruth told them. “But I need to get these eggs rinsed off and dried so the girls can dye them. They’re about to drive me crazy to get to them. I’m sure you remember how excited you were to dye eggs every Easter about this time, Jenna.”

  “Actually, I’ve never dyed eggs,” Jenna admitted with obvious regret.

  Sharon’s mouth dropped open with surprise. “You’ve never dyed Easter eggs?”

  Jenna shook her head.

  “Never ever?” Alice echoed, in childish amazement.

  “Never ever,” Jenna answered, laughing. “They were always bought for me and showed up in an Easter basket. I’ve always wondered how they were done.”

  She wandered over to the table to look at the dye sets, tea cups, and paper towels littered over the table top.

  Ruth Hart passed Boyce a telling look and shook her head.

  “Well, well, Jenna,” she said. “This is going to be your lucky day to learn to dye eggs. Alice and Sharon can teach you how, while I go out and show Boyce where I want my plants set out.”

  Boyce watched Jenna’s eyes light up with pleasure. It hurt him to think about the stiff and formal childhood she seemed to have experienced.

  After lemonade and a short visit - while the eggs dried - Ruth left Jenna delightfully learning how to dye Easter eggs while she went outside with Boyce.

  “That girl was as excited as a child learning to do those eggs,” Boyce’s mother said to him. “I can’t believe a girl could get to be her age and not had anybody show her how to dye an Easter egg.”

  “You’d be surprised what things no one’s shown that girl - or done for her, either,” Boyce mumbled.

  He turned to see his mother studying him. “You’re taken with her,” she observed, matter-of-factly.

  His jaw clenched. “Now don’t you start on me, too, Mama. I’ve already had a lecture from Charles.”

  “Well, you seem to have decided what I’m going to say when I’ve not even opened my mouth.” She crossed her arms. “But the truth of it is, my heart goes out to that girl. Raynelle’s told me all she’s been through, and it makes me real sorry for her. You can tell she is just as sweet and innocent as a rose. Shy, too, for a city girl. And I’ve been hearing about this girl for two years now from both Raynelle and Zita Walker anyway. I keep up with Sam and his news, too. Probably more than you do - always lost in those paintings of yours. I wanted you to meet this girl when you went up to New York last summer so you could tell me about her, but you didn’t get around to it.”

  He bristled. “She was out at some rich summer home place with her parents on Martha’s Vineyard,” he explained. “Besides, I was only in New York a few days.”

  “You never have liked it up there,” Ruth said. “Most people would have been excited to have some paintings shown in a big city like that, and would have wanted to see the sights while they were up there.”

  Boyce shrugged.

  His mother laughed a soft laugh and wrapped her arm through his as they walked. “You’ve always loved it here in the mountains. I can’t say I’m sorry, since it keeps you nearer to me.” They walked back through the yard toward the barn where Boyce’s mother had stored her flats of plants.

  “Sit down here a minute on this bench and talk to me,” she said, as they passed an old picnic table under a clump of maple trees.

  He hesitated. “I need to get your plants out, so I can get Jenna back over to Townsend.”

  His mother laughed. “She’s got two dozen eggs to dye with two excited little girls. She’ll be busy for a while.”

  Boyce gave in with resignation and sat down in the shade.

  His mother settled the skirt of her dress over her knees. “How far did you hike today?”

  “About six miles or so up Porter’s Creek and back.” He picked up a stick off the ground to twiddle with it.

  “Did Jenna have a good time?” his mother asked.

  “Yeah, she did, I think. She’d never been on a hike before in the mountains. I think she took to it. She wants to go again.”

  Ruth tilted her head. “And you’ll take her?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” he answered defensivel
y. “Sam told me he wanted me to watch after her while she was down here and to help see that she had a good time.”

  A faint smile played on her lips. “Sam wasn’t figuring on the two of you about near falling in love,” she said. “It didn’t take me ten minutes to see how it was between you – the way you look at her and she you. The way she about jumped out of her skin when you leaned over her at the table and brushed against her - just trying to show her how to dip an egg in a cup of dye.”

  He flinched. “Yeah, well, that’s a problem. She’s about half scared of me,” he grumbled.

  “Has she cause to be?” His mother glanced up in surprise.

  Boyce stood up irritably. “Look, Mama. I’m not going to do anything wrong by Jenna. She’s been hurt a lot and I wouldn’t add to that. She doesn’t trust men much at all right now. Any men, including me.” He scowled and snapped the stick in half that he still held in his hand.

  His mother shook her head gently. “Give the girl time,” she said. “Remember that little vixen fox you brought in from the woods that time? The one that got shot by a hunter? It took that little fox a long time to trust you - or any of us - after what she’d experienced. But she healed after a time.”

  He sat back down again with a sigh. “I know Jenna will heal, too, Mama. I’m just afraid it will be long after she’s gone back to New York and when she’s too far away from me.”

  Her face softened. “If she’s the right one, she won’t forget. Her heart will bring her back.”

  Boyce kicked at a pine cone on the ground crossly. “You read too many romance novels. Besides, I thought you’d be upset that I was taken with a divorced woman. You always told us it was best not to marry people that had been divorced. I expected a major lecture from you on just being interested in this girl at all.”