Rose Farm Trilogy Boxset

by Kennedy, Brenda

  While a young man loads up our groceries into the back of the truck, I run back inside and quickly settle up the debt owed from the woman. I also give Mr. Campbell a little extra money to cover arrears for future customers. He tells me, “You’re a good man, Abel Kennedy.” I watch as he places the money in an envelope and writes “Customer Emergency Fund” with a black magic marker.

  “Thank you. Can’t have people going around hungry now, can we?”

  “I can’t imagine anything much worse than hunger,” he replies. He hands the envelope to his wife, who is the only other person in the office with him. She smiles as she puts the envelope in the top desk drawer. “There needs to be more people like you in the world.”

  “Thank you, and Happy Thanksgiving. I would like the donation to remain anonymous.”

  “Yes, of course. Happy Thanksgiving to you. Many people run short this time of year. This emergency fund you set up will make many people happy,” Mrs. Campbell says.

  I nod and leave.

  On the drive home, Pops takes the long way. It’s late fall and many trees are bare of leaves. I remember how beautiful the countryside is in the middle of fall. Mom looks out the window as if in deep thought. I wonder if my paying for the groceries is still bothering her.

  “After we get the mail from the post office, I need to stop by the church.” Momma reaches up and readjusts the bobby pin in her hair.

  Pops looks over at Momma and smiles. “Whatever you want, Belle.”

  We go to the local post office, then we pull up at the church, and she asks, “Abel, would you mind helping me?”

  “No, whatever you need.” I get out of the truck and then help Momma out. We walk to the back of the pickup and she sorts through the bags of groceries. Pops also joins us.

  A man walks out of the church and greets us warmly. My folks introduce me to the preacher of the church, Pastor Jenson, and we shake hands.

  “Nelly and Bud, the church sure does appreciate everything you do for us.”

  “No need to thank us, we’re plumb tickled we’re able to help a family in need. I think this is about everything.” Momma looks through the last of the bags. “We bought Sugar-Frosted Flakes because kids like them.” It looks like she gave half of the groceries to the church. “Oh, I forgot the eggs. I’ll bring them down if you’ll still be here for a few minutes.”

  “That’s fine, I’ll be here for another hour or so.” Pastor Jenson gathers up some of the bags of food and offers a warm and friendly smile.

  We all carry bags of food into the cold church. After we place the grocery bags on the counter of the small kitchen, Pastor Jenson says that they already have a family to give the food to.

  “If you need anything else, let us know. We’ll do what we can,” Pops says. “I’ll run the eggs back down within the hour.”

  “Thank you so much, and you have done so much already.”

  We drive up the hill to the farm in silence. I think about how generous and caring my parents are. Not just my parents but also my brother. I also think back to the young mother in the store. Have I been that displaced from my hometown that I forgot that people still struggle? Is that why Momma didn’t spend the money I sent them? Is she afraid of becoming detached from her friends and the community she loves?

  Once the food is put away, I say, “I’ll take the eggs down to the church. I need to get some exercise today.”

  “Thank you, Abel. I’ll start dinner while you’re out.”

  Once I’m dressed for my run, I take the bag holding a few dozen eggs from the counter. “Hang on, your dad went to the basement to get some walnuts. He thought maybe someone from the church could use some, bein’ so close to the holidays and all.”

  A memory comes into my mind of my brother and me collecting fallen walnuts from the tree along the side of the house. It was considered one of our chores in the early fall.

  “Does that tree still produce nuts?” I ask in disbelief.

  Momma smiles as she wipes down the counter. “Sure does, more now than she ever did. The peach tree on the other side of the house provides more peaches than I know what to do with.”

  Pops appears from the basement with a large brown paper bag of walnuts. Momma smiles as he sets them down on the kitchen table. I watch her as she walks into the pantry and returns with a box of freezer baggies.

  We all pitch in as we fill several bags full of the walnuts.

  “This should be plenty. Abel, are you sure you can carry all of this?” Momma asks as she places the nuts into another bag. I watch Pops, who has the nutcracker out and is already cracking open some of the nuts for himself to eat.

  “It’s fine. I’ll take this to the church, run for a bit, and then when I return I’ll feed the animals. I also want to look at the light outside of the barn. I noticed last night that it was burnt out.”

  “Levi’s been wantin’ to change it, just not enough hours in the day,” Momma says as she hands me the grocery bags.

  I smile and she kisses me on the cheek before I leave.

  “Thank you, Abel.”

  “Momma, you never have to thank me. I’m happy to do it.”

  I walk towards the driveway and look over at the huge walnut tree. It’s much bigger than I remember. It still produces nuts and my family still harvests them. This should not surprise me. I have very fond memories of gathering them with Levi, peeling the foul-smelling green husk from the shell and then seeing who collected the most. Momma and Pops always had something special for the child who did the best, collected the most, or helped out when they weren’t asked. It wasn’t much, maybe a couple pieces of candy, or a cookie. But it was enough for Levi and me to always want to do better.

  When I arrive at the church, I see the woman from the grocery store leaving. I nod at her and she gives me a shy smile. The preacher is still standing at the door, watching her drive off.

  “Thank you for bringin’ these by so quickly, Abel. Your folks never let the church down.”

  I smile and hand him the two bags with the eggs and the walnuts. “They’re good people. They also sent some walnuts.”

  He smiles and peeks into the bags. “I was hopin’ they would. They do that every year. With the holidays fast approachin’, these will be nice to have.” He looks up from the bag and says, “Please, thank them for me.”

  “I will, have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  I don’t run. Instead, I walk around the old neighborhood. I look at all the homes and try to remember who lived where. It’s too cold for people to be sitting outside, but I can see them through their windows. Although the community is poor, it doesn’t lack love or happiness. I can see smiling faces and can imagine the laughter coming from within the house. I smile. It’s a good feeling.

  I walk past the houses in the direction of the old Rose Farm Elementary School. It’s disheartening to see the building in such shambles. The busted-out windows and the graffiti on the walls are painful to see. What makes it worse is that it’s in the middle of town, within view of many homes. I once wondered why no one fixed it up, but now I understand the financial reasons. I also have to wonder who would have busted out the windows and written the graffiti on the red brick building. It doesn’t seem like an area with juvenile delinquents running around.

  “It’s sad, isn’t it?”

  I turn around and I see the woman from the store walking with her small son.

  “Hi, I’m Savannah Mae Dickerson, and this is my son, Sawyer Jackson.” She smiles and reaches her hand out for mine.

  I extend my hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Savannah Mae and Sawyer Jackson. I’m Abel Kennedy.”

  “Nelly and Bud’s oldest boy? Your Momma’s been braggin’ about you all week.”

  I smile. “Has she now?”

  “She sure has. Been tellin’ everyone that Abel Lee’s comin’ home for the holidays.”

  I admire her country twang and laugh before I release her hand. “It’s Abel.”

>   She laughs and searches my eyes. “I wondered did you go by Abel Lee.”

  “Not since I was five years old.” Although on occasion Momma still calls me Abel Lee. On a very rare occasion.

  “I was born Savannah Mae and I’ll die Savannah Mae.” She thinks for a minute and says, “Just Savannah would be nice.”

  “I think Savannah Mae suits you just fine, Savannah Mae.”

  She smiles. “Thank you. Mae’s an old family name. I imagine my folks would be disappointed if I stopped using it.” She looks past me in the direction of the old school.

  I turn around and look at the old dilapidated school. “Do they have plans for the old school?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. The township struggles enough. They don’t have to announce it by having this building lookin’ the way it does.”

  I put my hands in my hoodie pocket and frown. “Maybe they are going to turn it into something to benefit the community.”

  “Really, Abel Lee. No one in this neck of the woods got money to spend on fixin’ this here buildin’.”

  I look at her and smile. She’s cute and that country slang is music to my ears. I hear a horn and she says, “C’mon, Sawyer Jackson, your daddy’s here.” She looks at me and says, “Abel Lee, it was mighty nice meetin’ ya.”

  I nod and say, “The pleasure’s all mine, Savannah Mae.”

  Savannah Mae

  “Ethan, buckle him in the booster seat and I’ll get his overnight bag from the house.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Ethan asks, noddin’ in the direction of the school.

  I look up and follow his eyes to Abel. “Don’t start.”

  “I just asked who your friend was. I ain’t startin’ nothin’.”

  “He’s Nelly and Bud’s oldest boy.”

  “The boxer?”

  “I didn’t ask, but he must be. They only have two sons, and we know Levi don’t box.” I look at Abel Lee and then at Ethan. I shake my head and run into the house to get Sawyer Jackson’s overnight bag. I hate it when Sawyer Jackson leaves to go to his daddy’s house. We have been divorced for only a few months and every day it’s still a struggle. It’s hard livin’ in these parts with a man, but to live here without one is mighty tough.

  I walk outside and Ethan is still watchin’ Abel Lee. I hand him the duffel bag with Sawyer Jackson’s change of clothes in it, and focus my attention on my little boy. “Sawyer Jackson, you be a good boy for Daddy.”

  “I will, Momma.”

  I smile at my dark-haired, four-year-old son. “I know you will. I love and miss you.” I look at Ethan and ask, “Any news on a job?”

  “Savannah Mae!”

  “I’m just askin’. I’m falling behind on the bills, Thanksgiving’s this week, and then Christmas is next month. Gettin’ a little worried.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I’m doin’ my best.” Ethan gets in the driver side of the truck and fastens his seatbelt. He looks sad and worried.

  I try to smile to assure him everything will work out. “Well, maybe something will come up this week.”

  “I hope so,” he says as he starts his old Ford pickup.

  I know he’s tryin’ so I don’t say anything else. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Savannah Mae.”

  Abel

  I stand in the field, looking at the old schoolhouse longer than necessary. I want to see if Savannah Mae was leaving with her son’s daddy. She didn’t. He kept watching me when she disappeared into the house. Me being me, I just watched him back. I don’t even know that girl. Why would I have cared if she left with him? She didn’t say her husband or boyfriend. She did say, Sawyer Jackson’s daddy. Maybe she’s divorced.

  While running, I push the thoughts of Savannah Mae far from my mind. I’m here only for the holidays, and I’m not looking to hook up with a country girl. Even if she is beautiful. The girl from the bar last night was also beautiful. Megan Rose. This area sure does have some pretty girls.

  I run around the local streets of Rose Farm before I run on the back roads. It’s been awhile since I’ve been here, but it doesn’t take long for me to remember where the back roads take you. The air is cold and crisp, and it feels good pumping in and out of my lungs. I think about being back in Rose Farm, and I also think about Savannah Mae. If anyone else ever called me “Abel Lee,” I think I might have been angry at them. But not Savannah Mae. It sounded like honey coming from her sweet mouth.

  After completing my run, I force myself not to look in the direction of her house on my way to my parents’ farm. My body deceives me. As soon as I turn the corner, my eyes dart straight to her little white house with red shutters and her yard with a white picket fence. The house is dark with only a single dim porch light lit. Turning in the direction of the farm, I walk up the mile-long driveway to my parents’ house. It’s dark and the barn light is still out. I chastise myself for not fixing that earlier today. Even though I had only a few things to do, I couldn’t get everything done. Tomorrow, I’ll do all of the chores, and then I’ll complete my workout.

  I see Levi’s truck and it makes me feel even worse. He helped on the farm this morning, went to work, and still had time to come back and help out on the farm again. Momma and Pops need help and I feel like I let them down. I hang my head in shame as I walk through the kitchen door.

  The house smells of food and the sound of laughter fills the air. Momma looks up at me and smiles. “There he is.”

  I smile. It feels good to be home. “I’m sorry I’m late.” I look over at Levi, who is standing at the refrigerator door. “How was work?”

  “Good, I could use some help feedin’ the animals, you game?”

  “Ready whenever you are.”

  “We’ll be back.”

  Momma turns to stir a pot on the stove. “By the time you finish, dinner will be done.”

  I smile and nod before shutting the door behind me. I feel resentment against Levi for being here helping Momma and Pops. I know it’s misplaced anger. Why would his helping them bother me? It makes no sense. Maybe I feel bad for not doing what needs to be done today.

  “Something wrong?” he asks as he walks into the barn to get some feed.

  “No, nothing. I’m just glad you’re here to help.”

  “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  When we return to the house, Mia is standing in the kitchen with Momma, and Pops is adding more firewood to the fireplace. Levi smiles and rushes over to Mia. “I missed you.”

  Mia stands on tiptoes and kisses him. “I missed you. How was your day?”

  “It just got a heck of a lot better.” He smiles.

  Tonight’s dinner consists of soup beans and hamhocks and homemade cornbread with peach cobbler for dessert.

  During dinner, Mia and Momma plan the Thanksgiving Day menu. Pops listens intently. Thanksgiving will be on the farm. For as long as I can remember, Thanksgiving dinner has only been on the farm. My parents always host the dinner. I think it’s because Momma likes to cook, and it’s easier to have it here as opposed to transferring all the food to another location.

  After we eat dinner and clean up the kitchen, Levi and Mia leave. Momma and Pops go to bed, and I’m unable to sleep. I take my guitar out to the barn and prop myself up in the corner on a hay bale. Strumming a few chords, I close my eyes. I play a few country songs by Luke Bryan and Josh Turner. When I finally open my eyes, I have an audience staring at me. “Hey, girl.” I stand and walk over to the midnight black mare watching me. I pet her mane and she moves her head closer to me. “You like music, girl?” I see a few apples and pick them up to feed her. Watching her eat, I admire her beauty. All black with a white diamond shape on her nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I give her one last stroke and leave. I know there is another horse in the stable, but he doesn’t come over.

  The night is dark and cold. The sky is clear and filled with stars, and a crescent moon. I soon realize everything is so much clearer and cleaner in the c
ountry. Living in the city, you don’t understand what pollution does to the air. Light pollution from such things as streetlights also makes it hard to see stars. I stop on the porch and take a seat on the step. I listen. Nothing but silence. I reflect on the last decade of my life.

  Savannah Mae

  “Momma, can we please put the tree up?”

  I stand and put my hand on my hip. “Sawyer Jackson, what did Momma say?”

  He frowns. “Not until after Thanksgiving.”

  I smile. My son was listenin’. “And why did I say not until after Thanksgiving?”

  He thinks for a minute and raises a brow. “’cause you’re not supposed to rush the holidays.”

  I walk over and kneel down to my son. “That’s exactly right.”

  “Why not?” He frowns again and crosses his small arms over his tiny chest.

  I take Sawyer Jackson’s hand and walk him over to the couch. Because I don’t have money for a tree. Because I don’t know where the money will come from for the gifts this year to put under the tree. I don’t say any of those things. I set him on my lap in hopes the right words come to me. A smile forms on my face when I look him in the face. My beautiful baby boy. “Because we’re supposed to enjoy the holidays, not rush through them.”

  “We can still have Thanksgiving with the Christmas tree up.”

  He’s right, we can. “We can, but we aren’t. When Thanksgiving is over, and not a day sooner, we’ll put the tree up.”

  “Momma…,” he whines.

  “Sawyer Jackson? If you keep that up, we’ll wait until Christmas Eve. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Good, go get your hat and coat on, I need to run to the grocery store.”

  A quick trip, we walk in, and I attempt to pay off my credit debt, but Mrs. Campbell says, “Savannah Mae, I’m not showing a debt from you.”

  I scoot closer to the customer service window/ manager’s office window, and whisper, “Are you sure? I was here the other day and told your husband I would bring the money back in. I still owe $24 and change on my purchase.” The privately owned store is too small to have a customer service desk; instead, it has a manager’s office with a sliding glass window.