by LoRee Peery
“Whatcha working on?”
“A sun catcher for Geneva. She might prefer a purple flower, but she reminds me of a fall sunset.”
His eye ran over the golden turmeric and paprika, like the colors surrounding the pupils of her lovely eyes. He’d make the hills a shade of purple for Geneva. The greens took on different shades, so he chose a rippled, streaky piece of glass and considered using the textured side up rather than the smooth back. Geneva’s eyes resembled prairie grass or the color of sea foam, all rimmed in forest green.
“You have the perfect setup here, all right.” Eric slapped Rainn on the shoulder, added a little masculine roughness to his teasing. “Imagine that. Rainn Harris putting poetry into glass art.”
Rainn thought the colors were Geneva, in all her spicy warmth and vitality.
“Yep. This sun porch is just the place to work. The screened window, or a fan in front of the window, like when we had that hot spell, help cool the soldering iron. Ventilation is vital, to draw out the fumes from stain and glue and chemicals.”
“Moselle would call it a God-thing, you finding a house with a room like this.”
“Too bad her mom can’t see that she and I might be a God-thing. I just don’t get how Geneva stubbornly hangs on to our age difference.”
“You really believe men and women can think alike?”
“Nope. And I know women think men are thinking of one thing at a time, but I’m often taking care of Mia while needing Geneva.”
“Huh. Makes me think of Moselle and our wedding. She keeps talking about a Western theme.” Eric picked up a pair of running pliers, opened and closed them. “I drew the line at that one, man. Can you picture me in a cowboy hat?”
“Now, come on. You’re telling me if it really meant so much to Moselle, way down deep, you wouldn’t give in to her little request?”
“I s’pose. If she threatened to postpone the wedding until I gave in.” Eric used his fingertips to paint the lines between nose and mouth with an invisible brush. “And I’ve waited ever since the fiasco of our senior year to make things up to Moselle.”
Rainn had never asked for details, but he’d read between the lines. He knew Eric’s ex, Beth, was Moselle’s best friend in high school. Somehow, there was a huge break-up. Eric had turned to Beth for comfort. Beth got pregnant. Eric married Beth. Beth lost the baby. They divorced. Whew.
Somewhere in there, Moselle had moved to Kansas City.
“You’ve got quite a history. But with a happy ending. Beginning, rather. You’ll be tying the knot soon.” Rainn studied his friend’s expression. “What sets you off about Moselle? Is there something about her that really gets your motor running?”
Eric’s bass laugh rumbled. His ears turned red. “That little freckly mole above her lip. I get the urge to kiss her right in that spot every time I look at her. And when I saw her with that new messed-up haircut? Wow man, I wanted the honeymoon.”
Rainn chuckled before setting aside the bench brush he’d picked up to sweep away glass shards. He didn’t want anyone to get cut by a sliver of flying glass.
“Of course, she was quite bent out of shape over the past. I had to wait a while to get under her skin again.”
“From what I hear, you’ve always been under Moselle’s skin.”
“And from what I gather, there’s something about Moselle’s mother that has gotten under your skin.”
Rainn stared into space. “Oh, yeah. And the glasses get to me. When I see Geneva with her glasses on, I want to take them off and get lost in those hazel depths.”
“Imagine those glasses get in the way of a good kiss,” Eric said.
Rainn kneaded a knot at the base of his skull. Whenever Geneva commented on their ages, he felt the tension in his neck.
Eric slapped him on the shoulder. “You should be a poet. Have you ever told Geneva her eyes remind you of autumn?”
Rainn felt his cheeks grow warm at the thought of describing to Geneva the way he loved her eyes. The sun catcher should help soften her. He’d give it to her at just the right time. “Not yet. I’m about to tell her I’m checking out an opening at the community college. There should be enough glass art customers in eastern Nebraska to keep me in cash.”
“Good luck with that. I need to get on with my day. Thinking of Moselle’s little mole will keep me company on my run.”
“See you, man.” Rainn turned back to his table and got rid of the glass shards.
He could see the end of this job in Platteville. Maybe a third of the last church window was all that needed to be assembled. The single, transparent pieces might be boring to other artists, but to him, primary colors were traditional.
Rainn massaged the small of his back while running his eye over a stack of slatted wood cubicles in a variety of sizes. The shelving unit held his stash of glass pieces. Baroque, opalescent, and mottled sheets of glass rested on end. He focused on the blues and greens, the colors reminding him of Frivolities. A florescent green hummingbird with purple wings and beak had circled on its wire garden stand when he swept past on his way for coffee earlier in the day.
Frivolities brought Geneva to mind again. This time it wasn’t her hazel orbs, but her fruits-of-the-Spirit lifestyle that filled his chest with emotion. Could he take Mia from Platteville, and leave a huge chunk of his heart?
Rainn considered not accepting that next church window renovation in Wyoming, because of Mia. “That would give me time to do some of my own art stuff. But only if I take the teaching position at the college,” he said to his workroom.
He pictured Geneva, the way she looked soft, yet was so strong inside. The sound of her voice, the way she smelled. Her wise-woman smile, as though she harbored a secret deep down in her soul.
Her smile gets to me as much as the glasses.
But he wouldn’t tell Eric. Some things a man kept to himself.
“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
The abrupt voice invaded his head, driving out all thoughts but Mia. He dropped the solder roll he had just picked up and hustled through the house to the back deck.
“You OK—” his voice died out, and he relaxed.
Rainn leaned against the railing, soaking in the sight of Mia. She rested in the swing, tummy across the seat. With head down, her body swung from the pivot of her heels. Right, left, right, left, she swayed, lost in her own world.
He wondered for what seemed the thousandth time about Mia as an adult. He’d read that age seven was a vital time in an autistic’s life. What she knew before then grounded her throughout her life.
Meeouuuuww.
Mia straightened her body in slow motion, eyes wide, beamed a face-splitting smile. Rainn took the step down to the lawn in two leaps.
“Kitty!” she voiced in awe.
The calico peeked around the corner of the opening above the tree house door to the slide.
“Don’t go down the slippery slide, kitty. You might fall,” Mia warned.
It took everything Rainn had not to laugh when Mia went on a crouched stealth walk, complete with exaggerated tiptoeing, arms extended. She topped it off with a loud whisper. “Nice kitty. Come, kitty.”
His approach was as quiet as he could manage over the leaves that fell heavier each day. “That’s it. Talk softly, Mia. Don’t move too fast. We don’t want to scare the kitty.”
“Uncle Rainn, she is so pretty.”
“I know, Button. But she needs the knots pulled out of her long hair.”
“My name is Mia. Could we call the kitty Button?”
“Sounds like a terrific name to me.”
He reached for the kitten, smoothing one hand down its back while holding it against his chest with the other. “Now, I’ve got the kitten calm. Listen, she’s purring. Why don’t you sit on the bottom of the slide and I’ll put her in your lap?”
Mia buried her face in the neck of the kitten and cradled it in her arms.
He wondered what might be living there in that fur. “What do we do no
w, sweet thing?”
Mia kept her face lowered, cheek cuddled into the matted calico fur of the kitten that had turned his life upside down.
Somehow, it seemed as though Geneva had rescued him that day in the tree. Rainn never knew his life had missed anything until he started spending time with her.
Mia’s voice came out muffled—something about a mother. He hunkered down to listen closer.
“I didn’t catch that, what did you say?”
“I don’t have a mother any more. The kitty doesn’t have a mother. This kitty doesn’t smell good. This kitty isn’t soft like a pillow. Geneva is soft.”
He couldn’t dispute a thing Mia said.
“Would you like to be a girl-mommy to this kitty?” He waited for her to answer, but she just squeezed a little harder.
He scrunched up his face, expecting a wild and furious escape, scratches and all. But the cat remained restful. Must be all tuckered out.
“It’s a lot of work, but we can learn how to feed her and take her to the kitty doctor. And love her. I think you could be a good mommy.”
Mia picked up her bundle and shuffled over to the swing, where she tried to settle back into the seat.
“Here, let me help.” Rainn held the seat and helped Mia wrap an elbow around one chain.
She set the swing into motion, perched on the edge, trying not to sink into the curved bottom. As she stretched to leave her feet on the ground, he gave a small head shake and grinned. Mia was imitating Geneva’s glider motion.
Mia’s face cleared from concern to contentment. “I can be a good kitty mommy. Moselle has a good mommy.”
And I want that same mommy for you. If that’s Your plan, Lord.
****
Geneva sat in the glider for what felt like her first time alone in a month. The day was so sunny and warm it seemed to call her outside. She’d escaped Frivolities for a most welcome break.
The weather could be so crazy in Nebraska. It had frosted overnight. That morning she’d stepped onto the porch and watched the sun sparkle over the grass before drawing the moisture up in a fine mist. Then leaves splattered to earth like soft rain.
Now in the afternoon, she slid her skirt above her knees to catch the breeze on her legs. A small branch distracted her. It wagged in the wind crazily, like a bent dog’s tail.
Looking back down, a bright shaft of sunlight slanted across her legs. She took a second look. Then Geneva groaned. And burst out laughing.
A white leg hair in the shape of a question mark rose from her thigh.
Now that’s a sure sign of age, hair turning white on my legs.
She hustled inside to get the tweezers. Back in the sunshine, she looked all around to make sure she was unobserved. She swung her foot onto the glider cushion, catching the light just right. One well aimed jerk, and the white hair was history.
How many years before Rainn gets gray hairs on his body? Enough already.
This constant battle in her head had become as irritating as a pebble under her sock. Every time she thought she had rid herself of it, the constant back-and-forth conflict ground in again.
This is my life I’m talking to myself about. Mine.
Sure, the town harbored a few gossips. But most of the people in Platteville acted like an extremely large family. They truly cared about one another.
Geneva stuck the tweezers in her pocket. She liked that all-fired-up feeling Rainn gave her. If she hadn’t let him get under her defenses, she might have gone through the rest of her life without facing her stirred-up wild side. She didn’t want to miss the ride.
As she thought of him, Rainn ambled up the walk, his long stride shortened to match Mia’s.
So much trust shone on her countenance. Her little hand enveloped in his, Mia skipped along. When she caught sight of Geneva, Mia grinned and waved.
“Are you hungry?” Geneva greeted.
Mia nodded. Her smile shot straight to Geneva’s heart. Rainn had shared some of his research on autism. Smiles from an autistic child meant something to be treasured.
“There’s yogurt in the fridge. Help yourself.”
Rainn settled next to her on the porch glider. “Thanks. I imagine she’s hungry. I served her instant oatmeal with cinnamon and apples. She looked at the bowl and then at me, and in a teenager-type voice said, ‘I’m supposed to eat this?’”
Geneva laughed. “That’s exactly what she said that first morning she stayed over. Mia took her fork and lifted the cheese layer on my healthy quiche.” She flicked her fingernail under the tip of his shirt collar, where it had turned down. Adding drama, she attempted to match Mia’s inflection. “‘I’m supposed to eat this?’”
Rainn chuckled, folding her against his chest. “Let me guess. And then she wailed.”
“You got that right. I asked her to please leave the table. And told her when she was quiet she could come back and we’d figure out something else for her meal. I also said I was sorry she didn’t like my food.”
“How long did the fit last?”
“I’m sure only about five minutes. She was so distressed and loud, it grated on my ears and felt like hours.”
His laugh rumbled against Geneva’s side.
“When she returned to the table, Mia asked in a subdued voice if she could look in my refrigerator. And then proceeded to inform me she could help herself.”
“How’d that go over?”
“Lanae and I just looked at each other and shrugged. I told Mia that would be fine, so she went on to say that she was big enough to pour milk if it isn’t brand new. She likes cereal. And yogurt, too, but I didn’t have her kind at that time.”
“You witnessed her precociousness.”
“I love that independence in Mia. Gives me hope for her future. As a rule, women don’t express themselves enough.”
Rainn gave her shoulder a squeeze, and Geneva patted his flat stomach.
“They could take lessons from you.”
She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “That day Mia went on to tell us of her ability to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but she couldn’t use the toaster yet.”
“I’ll have to work on that. Pretty quiet in there now, think we need to check?”
“I trust her. She probably needs the downtime after the turmoil of school. It calms her to get lost in her own world.”
“That’s true, but if she has the opportunity she becomes consumed by objects, the way she lines up her ponies. The swinging, or TV if not too long, are good. But she also needs to interact with other people as well.”
“She looks extra happy today.”
“I’m amazed she didn’t spurt her news. All she talked about on the way over was telling you she found the kitty.”
Geneva sat straight up. “You don’t say? The same one?” That got us together?
“Yep. Just showed up in the tree house.”
Oh, yes…digging those postholes.
“Now I wonder if she can take care of the kitten, not hold it so tight, or too long, or want it to stay put like one of her ponies.”
“Don’t worry so much, Rainn.” Geneva settled back, and drew in his smell. Something citrusy, like shower soap, mixed in with a kind of smoky dryness, no doubt from his glasswork. She snuggled in and hugged his arm against her side. “Rainn, I love your name. It’s soothing, yet strong and full of life. Refreshing. I’ve never asked, how did you get it?”
“Now there’s a story. When my dad got stateside from serving overseas in the navy, the first song he heard was Elvis singing ‘Kentucky Rain.’”
“I know that song.”
“Have you ever listened to the last few words? Something about a prayer that ‘I’d find you?’”
“Probably not as much as I sing along with the refrain.”
“Well, it was pouring down rain and Dad was full of thinking about my mother. Thoughts of her drove him on. He’d spent so much time praying for her while they were apart. Yet the whole rest of the way home,
he worried that he might find Mom different from the way he had left her.”
“Did he have reason to think she was?”
“Of course not. But he didn’t know if her heart was the same. He’d been on tour with guys who got Dear John letters everyday. She was young. He hoped and prayed she felt the same love for him.”
“She must have.”
He laughed low and rich. “Evidently. I was conceived that first night he was home. Dad always attributed it to the prayer. They agreed to name me Rainn.”
“Like I said, I love it, but I imagine you were teased all through school.”
“And beyond.” He groaned. “Believe me, I’ve heard it all. So whatever comes to mind, please keep it to yourself.”
Rainn reached for her hand and linked their fingers before bouncing his knuckles on his thigh. They sat so close that she felt almost too warm. She could handle this feeling of warmth against her side. Geneva wanted the nearness to last forever. But she concentrated on the thrill of having him close in that moment.
“You know more about me now. Tell me something about you.”
She stared across the street and saw another time. “When Bret and I were first married that was an alfalfa field over there. In the spring just before the blooms popped purple, a certain kind of bug would fly around. I remember watching in amazement at what seemed like hundreds of barn swallows dive-bombing above the swaying green. If there was a breeze, the undersides of the alfalfa looked silver.” The memory pulled a smile. “And if the sun was shining a certain way the bird’s bellies looked gold. The glory of God’s creation is all around us if we open our minds to see.”
“You like nature.”
“I do. One of these days I’m going to create a quilted wall hanging that is more like art. I don’t know what kind of material I’ll use other than fabric, but I want to make it dimensional, like the onlooker is about to enter a garden.”
“And most of the flowers will be purple.”
“Of course.”
“I saw something the other day. Kind of got to me.” He smoothed his hand over the nape of her neck, ran his thumb along an invisible line below her ear.
“You know, the minister lives right next door to the church. I stopped to catch my breath after lugging in a large glass pane and my tools.”