by Nicole James
He paused to take a sip of coffee.
“What happened?”
“Rita never came home. At first Pop didn’t worry. He figured she must be busy. After all, she hardly ever had any time for herself since Jessie was born. He figured she needed it, and she hadn’t seen too much of her girlfriends, either.
“I had been across the state line that day, looking at a new tractor. When I got home at five o’clock, she still wasn’t back, and Pop was starting to worry. It wasn’t like Rita to leave Jessie for that long, or not to have called. Of course, back in those days, no one had cell phones.
Summer nodded.
“We went looking for her. We found her car parked where she’d left it, parked around the corner from the drugstore. We searched and searched, and we reported her missing to the sheriff.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“We never found her. It was like she just disappeared off the face of the earth, and no one saw a thing.”
Summer reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’m so sorry. It must be terrible, the not knowing.”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “Come on, eat your waffles. They’re getting cold,” he said, breaking out of the somber mood and forcing a smile.
They both sat in silence for a while, until finally Summer pushed her plate back. “That’s it. I can’t eat another bite. I’m stuffed.”
Steve looked at the food still left on her plate and pointed at it with his fork. “You’re gonna hurt Margie’s feelings. She’ll think you don’t like the food.”
“I liked it. It was great. There’s just way too much of it,” Summer said defensively.
Steve smiled and stole a sausage off her plate.
Summer rolled her eyes and laughed.
He finished his plate, paid the check, and they headed back to the truck.
He opened the door for her, and she climbed in. He closed the door, walked around, and climbed in the driver’s side. Starting the engine up, he backed out and headed down the street.
“Mind if I smoke?” he asked, turning to look at her and reaching for a pack of cigarettes sitting on the dash.
“No. Go ahead, but those things will kill you, you know?” She watched him shake a cigarette out of the pack with one hand and put it in his mouth.
He tossed the pack back up on the dash, took a lighter out of his pocket, and lit it. Rolling down the window, he blew the smoke out and turned to look at her, smiling. “I know. I need to quit, huh?”
“Yes, you do,” she agreed, smiling.
“I’ve tried, but it’s damn hard,” he confessed, taking another hit off the cigarette and looking over at her with a sheepish look on his face.
“If at first you don’t succeed…”
“Try, try again. Yeah, I know,” he finished the saying.
She smiled, shaking her head and looked out the window.
“Hey, you’re not going to nag me day and night, are you?”
She turned back to study him for a moment and then smiled. “I might.”
“Oh, Lord,” he said, shaking his head.
Steve drove down the street to the Super Center at the outskirts of town. He pulled in the lot and parked.
Summer looked over at him. “What are we doing?”
“I thought we’d pick up a few things for you. Toothbrush, underwear, whatever basics you may need. If you can wait on clothes shopping, I think my daughter may have some clothes that would fit you,” he replied, opening the door and climbing out.
They went into the store.
“I need to go to the automotive department. Why don’t you get whatever you need and I’ll meet you in about twenty minutes? Is that enough time?”
“Yes. Sure.”
Summer picked up some toiletries and some underwear, and met him at the cash registers.
He had a case of motor oil under his arm and a pack of spark plugs in his hand. They checked out and Summer grabbed her bag of items, while Steve put the case of motor oil on his shoulder, and they walked back out to the truck and headed back to the farm.
Steve pulled the truck down the gravel drive and parked behind the farmhouse. It was the first time that Summer got a chance to see the place in daylight. She looked around as she reached for the door handle.
There was a large gravel area behind the house with a huge barn set back and to the left from the house by about fifty feet. It was unpainted, and the weathered wood had turned to a light gray. There was an attached corral on the far side. She glanced around and noticed a very small second house with a front porch set back about the same distance to the right, under some tall pine trees.
She climbed out of the truck and shut the door. The yard was neat, without a lot of clutter and junk lying around. Just then she noticed a cat rubbing up against her leg, and she bent down to stroke its soft gray fur.
“That’s Eddie,” Steve informed her. “There are about a dozen more cats around the place. They live out in the barn. Except for Eddie. He’s Jessie’s cat.”
“I see,” Summer acknowledged. She picked up the cat and scratched behind its ears. “Well, hello, Eddie.” The cat purred and closed his eyes.
“Now you’ve done it. You’ll never get rid of him,” Steve warned her. “Come on. I want you to meet Pop.”
Summer set the cat down, followed Steve up the back stairs, and through the screen door.
“This is the mudroom,” he said, over his shoulder.
It was a small room with a washer, dryer, utility sink, and what looked like a waist high freezer chest. There was a line of pegs against the wall that held assorted jackets and quilted flannel shirts and a row of muddy boots and shoes along the floor.
Summer followed him through another door and into the kitchen. She vaguely remembered this room from the night before. She remembered the old wooden table and chairs. The floor was old, red linoleum. There was a white porcelain double-sink under a window that looked out over the back. The curtains were cheery red gingham, but had seen better days. The ancient refrigerator and stove were a matching harvest gold.
She followed Steve through the kitchen to the dining room. The floors were original hardwood planking, polished to a dark sheen from years of stocking feet, she imagined. The room held a long table and eight chairs. There was a matching antique buffet table against the wall to her immediate left. The white eyelet runner was piled with mail, bills, and stacks of paperwork. To her right, Summer noticed an open door leading into a bathroom. Next to that was an open door that led to a staircase going to the second floor, and next to that was an archway that led into a living room.
Summer followed Steve into the living room. There were hardwood floors throughout the first floor. In the living room the floor was covered with a large braided rug. The room held a sofa against the far wall, flanked at an angle by a pair of easy chairs. There was a television to her right and a brick fireplace to her left.
A baseball game was playing on the television, and an elderly gentleman was asleep in one of the easy chairs.
“Pop, wake up. I want you to meet someone.”
The man opened his eyes and tried to focus. “I wasn’t sleeping, just resting my eyes.”
“Yeah, sure,” Steve conceded, grinning. “Pop, this is Summer, the woman I took to the hospital last night.” Steve turned to Summer. “This is my grandfather. We call him Pop.”
Pop slowly got up out of the chair. “Sorry, ma’am. These old bones aren’t what they used to be.” He extended his hand to Summer and looked her up and down. “So, you’re the young woman that caused all the excitement around here last night, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I’m pleased to meet you. Sorry if I woke you last night.”
“Naw. Me, I slept through the whole thing. Just heard about it over breakfast this morning. Besides, this place could use some excitement, if you ask me.”
“Pop, I’ve offered Summer the housekeeper position that we’d talked about.”
Pop looked from Steve to Summer. “Well, isn’t that nice. It’s about time, too.”
“I’ve offered her room and board as part of the deal. I’m going to put her in the spare bedroom.”
“Yeah? Well, it’ll need a good cleaning first. God knows what junk we’ve stored in there. Haven’t had a need for that room since Aunt Ellie visited two years ago.”
“Don’t worry, Pop. I’ll clean it up first.”
Steve led the way up the stairs to the second floor. He opened the door to a room that faced out over the back of the property. There was an antique brass bed against the back wall, situated between two windows covered in lace curtains. The bed was covered with a faded yellow chenille spread. There were several toss pillows and a stuffed bear sitting in the middle of the bed, waiting to greet Summer.
An old oak dresser and mirror sat opposite the bed. On it was an embroidered white runner in between two matching antique lamps.
There was indeed a pile of boxes on the floor in the far corner, just like Pop predicted.
“Sorry. It’s a mess. I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“Isn’t that what I’m here for?” Summer asked with a grin.
Steve looked sheepish. “Yeah, I guess.”
“It’ll be fine.” Summer walked over and picked up the stuffed bear. Running her hands over its worn fur, she smiled. “Is this your daughter’s?”
“Probably. She has a room full of them. Stuffed animals, I mean. Guess they’re trickling down the hall.”
They looked at each other and smiled. Summer set the bear back on the bed.
“Um, the bathroom is across the hall. If you’d like to get cleaned up, take a shower, I think we could probably find some clothes of Jessie’s that would fit you.” Steve nodded his head toward Summer’s outfit.
She glanced down and realized she was still wearing the clothing from the night before, bloodstains and all.
“Um, yes. I’d like that.”
“Come on,” Steve said, and led the way down the hall to the next room.
He opened the door, and Summer followed him in. The furniture was girly, white. The room was definitely a teenager’s, with posters on the wall and stuffed animals piled on the bed and shelves.
He rummaged through the closet and came up with a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. “Here, try these,” he said, offering them to her. “If they don’t fit, you can see if you can find something else.”
“Thanks,” she replied, taking the items. They stood looking at each other.
“Um. There are towels in the bathroom.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Well, I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Okay. I will.”
He left, and she looked around the room. There was a bulletin board on the wall, and she leaned closer to look at the photos pinned up on it.
There were a couple of Steve and a girl who must be Jessie at different ages. There were some of Jessie and her friends. Summer scanned the collection, smiling. Then her eyes fell on one and stopped. It was an older photo of a pretty young woman holding a girl about four years old. Summer realized the photo must be of Jessie and her mother. She was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair and the prettiest smile. It was a sad story Steve had told her about his wife. Summer couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her.
She shook her head, heading to the bathroom to take a shower and change clothes.
An hour later, Summer joined Steve downstairs for a tour of the rest of the house and property.
“This is the kitchen, of course. The stove is gas,” Steve said, indicating the ancient appliance. “You have to light the burners with a match. It’s old, but it works. And over here is the refrigerator.” He opened the door. “Looks like we’re pretty well stocked for now.”
“What’s in those jars?” Summer asked, indicating the glass mason jars with a white fluid in them. There were three lined up on the top shelf.
“What? This?” Steve asked, holding one up.
Summer nodded.
“This is milk, darlin’. You have had milk before, haven’t you?”
“The only milk I’ve had comes in a plastic gallon jug, and you get it at the grocery store,” Summer stated.
“Well, this is even better. Comes right out of the cow, and we keep it in mason jars. Can’t get any fresher than this.”
“Why does it look so funny?”
“That’s the cream. It rises to the top. You just have to shake it up,” Steve explained, giving the jar a shake.
“Okay. If you say so,” Summer acknowledged.
“Here, try some,” Steve offered, unscrewing the top and holding it out to her. “It’ll be the best milk you ever had. Makes that grocery store stuff taste like water.”
“No, no. Maybe later,” Summer declined.
“Okay. Suit yourself.” He put it back and closed the door. “The pots and pans are down here, the dishes and glasses up there, and…”
Summer was glancing around the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I, I don’t see a dishwasher.”
“There isn’t one,” Steve replied with a smile. “We use the old fashioned way.” He pointed to the sink.
“Oh.” Summer frowned.
“And this is the freezer where we keep the meat.” Steve walked out into the mudroom, over to a large waist high freezer, and lifted the door.
Summer followed him out and leaned over, peering inside. Everything was neatly wrapped in butcher paper, with the contents of each package written on the paper in black grease pencil. Ground round, sirloin, etc.
“Beef, beef, and more beef,” she observed.
“We trade with the Munson’s. They give us a side of beef, and I give them free milk,” Steve explained.
“Oh, I see.”
“I could kill a chicken, if you want,” he offered, grinning.
“No! No, that’s okay,” Summer insisted.
“You sure? It’ll only take a minute,” he teased.
“Beef is great. I love beef.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, you just let me know.” Steve let the freezer door drop. “Come on, city girl. I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
He led the way out the back door and across the yard. He opened the door to the barn, sliding it to the side, and they went inside.
It smelled of hay and cows. There was a large open floor with large double doors on either end. There was an aisle to walk against the far left wall, and next to that was a feed-trough with iron bars running vertical all along it. She noticed equipment hanging from the ceiling.
“This is a dairy farm. The cows put their heads through these bars to eat the feed, and the bars close around their necks to keep them in place,” Steve explained. “We attach the milking equipment.” He indicated the apparatus hanging from the ceiling.
Summer nodded.
“The milk goes through those hoses, is stored in those tanks, and is picked up daily.” He pointed to some large tanks against the far wall.
“How often do the cows get milked?”
“Twice a day. Four-thirty a.m. and four-thirty p.m.”
“Four-thirty a.m.?” Summer asked in disbelief.
“Yup. Every morning. No exceptions. They get real upset if they’re not milked on time.”
“Where are the cows now?”
“They’re out in the pasture all day. They only come in when it’s milking time.”
“Do you have to round them up?”
Steve laughed. “No, ma’am. They pretty much come home on their own. They know when feeding and milking time is. You could set your clock by ‘em. Believe me. Come on.”
Steve headed through the barn and out the double doors on the far side. They walked around the barn to a small shed in the back. It was surrounded on three sides by a fenced-in-yard of chicken wire.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“This, darlin’, is the
chicken coup.” Steve picked up a basket and opened the door. As they went in, some of the chickens scurried out through a small door at the other end and into the fenced in yard. “You reach in here and get the eggs,” he instructed, reaching his hand under a hen sitting in one of the nests set up on a shelf.
Summer watched him gather about a half dozen. One of the hens pecked at him. “Does that hurt?” she asked.
“Naw, not much. You can wear gloves if you want,” he suggested.
“Me?”
“Yes ma’am. If you want to make eggs in the morning, this is where you’ll get them.”
Summer just stared at him.
He grinned. “Come here, darlin’. It’s not that hard. I’ll show you.” She stepped over to him. He took her hand in his, guiding it under a chicken. The hen squawked a little and stood up, but settled back down as soon as she had the egg. “There, not so bad, huh?” Steve asked, looking down at her. They stared at each other a long moment, and then Summer looked away nervously.
She smiled. “No, not so bad.”
“Good, because I like eggs for breakfast. Three, scrambled, with bacon. And biscuits, if you know how to make them,” he said hopefully.
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you putting in your order for tomorrow morning?”
“You got it, babe,” he confirmed with a grin. “We eat after we finish milking. And Summer, we come back in from milking at five-thirty.”
“Oh, good Lord.” Summer glanced to another large metal building set back from the others. “What’s in there?”
“Just some equipment. It’s where we store some stuff.”
She nodded.
They headed back towards the house as a candy-apple red ’67 Mustang came flying up the drive, stopping in a cloud of dust. A teenage girl climbed out and reached in the backseat, pulling out a backpack. She had long, dark hair that fell to her waist, which Summer thought looked like silk. She was about five foot eight, most of which was leg. Summer followed Steve over to the car.
“Summer, this is my daughter, Jessie,” he introduced her.
Jessie turned from getting her backpack. “Oh, hi, how are you?” she greeted Summer and then turned to her father. “Daddy, the car’s making that ticking noise again.”