Half Finished

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Just say you haven’t tossed any in the compost yet. I’ll be over in an hour or so.” He clicked off.

  “Your dad is coming over. We better get a plate of cookies ready to send home with him so he doesn’t kidnap you.”

  “He’s glad I’m here, says he doesn’t worry about you this way.” Addy checked the refrigerator. “Better put butter on the list, along with walnuts, oh, and powdered sugar. These bars will take the last of it.”

  Ginny turned and picked up the notepad she kept on the counter for just this purpose. “Oh, look.” She pointed out the kitchen window. “Three hummingbirds on the feeder at once.” The two watched, with identical grins lighting their faces.

  “Remember the one we found that time we thought was dead?”

  “I do and he was torpid. I’d never known about that before.” Ginny looked off to the left to the birdbath. “Look, the hens are up here.” Two of the lighter ones were up on the low birdbath, drinking.

  “Do chickens like to bathe like other birds?”

  “Nope, they take dust baths. You’ve seen their wallows inside their fenced area.”

  “I know but I thought maybe they did both.”

  Spook whined at their sides.

  “Outside?”

  He leaped and yelped. “Okay, okay.” Ginny let him out the back door.

  The lemon bars were cooling on the rack on the counter when Sam arrived. “Kid, do you never quit?” he asked after petting Spook and hugging his mother, in that order.

  “Making up for not getting to bake while school is going on.” She pushed a plate of chocolate chip cookies toward him. “Walnuts just for you.”

  “What else you two been doing?” He reached for a second one.

  “Didn’t your mother teach you not to talk with your mouthful?” Ginny asked, wearing an innocent look.

  “That kid might take ’em away before I get enough.”

  “Right, you want coffee?”

  “You have to make it?”

  “You know that Keurig you bought me for Christmas last year? It works.” She handed him a mug and pointed at the black machine on the counter by the stove.

  “Yeah, we gave you the single one and yet you still mostly use the old one.”

  “Because it makes a potful. It has a timer to set for the morning so I wake up to the smell of coffee and it would probably poach eggs if I asked it to.”

  “Sure, coffee-flavored eggs. Ugh.” He reached for another cookie. “What about the lemon bars?”

  “Not ready to cut yet, sorry. Besides, they don’t really taste good warm, oh hey…” She picked up the cookie plate and put it in the microwave just long enough to warm them. When she pulled out the plate, she sniffed the cookies. “Roxie taught me to do this. She says the fragrance of hot cookies or baking bread will sell a house almost every time.”

  Sam sniffed the cookies he’d snatched. “Good job, kiddo. Come on, Mom, show me what to take.” He headed for the door, Ginny following. Out by the greenhouse, where she’d set pots to harden the plants off, he looked over what had become a meager collection. “You going to put any more in the garden here?”

  “Doubtful. If they produced like last year, I’d never be able to keep ahead of them.” Her voice broke. How would she do all the canning, freezing, drying without Fred to pick and peel and carry half the load? Tears welled up and over, too much to sniff back.

  Sam turned from loading pots. “What is it?”

  Ginny motioned to the plants and toward the garden. “I—I can’t do it all without him.” She dug in her pocket, only to find one badly used tissue. Sam wrapped his arms around her and held her close so her tears soaked his shirt.

  “It’s okay, Mom, we’ll help. We all will. And you don’t have to can and freeze like you and Dad did. I swear you fed half the city.”

  “I—I need a tissue.” She raised her head. “S-sorry, that caught me by surprise.”

  “Does it happen often?”

  “I don’t know how to define ‘often.’ At least I am not crying all the time anymore, and I can sleep sometimes without waking to a wet pillow. Actually, I’m sleeping more like I used to lately.” She looked toward the barn. “I still can’t make myself go in the chicken house. Addy takes care of the chickens, and feeds the other animals too. Magic whinnies now when she comes.”

  “And he used to nicker when Dad came. What about Smoky?”

  Ginny sucked in a deep breath and let it all out. “Perhaps it’s time to find new homes for them.”

  “Magic needs young children to teach about horse handling. Addy and Andy have really outgrown him.”

  “I know. More to think about.”

  Sam had all the remaining tomato pots loaded in his truck. “Looks like that pumpkin is too big to transplant. Why don’t I dump some dirt around it right there and it can become a lawn decoration?”

  “Why not. Go for it.”

  “Grandma,” Addy called from the garage. “Telephone, you want to call her back?”

  “Who is it? No, just tell her I’ll call her back.” She turned to Sam. “When you are done there, Addy will have a plate of cookies for you to take home.”

  “You get tired of having her around, you can send her home, you know.” Sam shoveled a bucketful of compost for the pumpkin plant. “Where’s your clippers?”

  “In my apron pocket, where they belong.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will put them back.”

  Ginny shook her head, heaved the stick for Spook, and made her way to the house. She could hear Addy on the phone in the family room, talking with a friend. It didn’t seem fair that Addy should give up her summer to take care of her grieving grandma. She checked the light on the oven: sure enough, more cookies about ready to come out. Her sniffer never lied.

  “You want me to take these out?”

  “Yes, please, if they’re brown enough. The last pan is ready to go in.”

  Ginny was moving the hot cookies to the wire rack for cooling when Sam and Spook came in the back door.

  “Looks good. What kind are those?”

  “Oatmeal with raisins and chocolate chips, I think. I know, your favorite so she baked them for you.”

  “Good thing, our cookie jar is sadly empty. Andy said she should come home, at least long enough to fill the cookie jars.”

  “How do we help him to be able to come over here again?”

  Sam puffed out a sigh. “I don’t know. Just give him time, I guess.”

  “Will he talk about his grandpa? Memories?” She watched Sam shake his head. “Can you talk about the memories?” She watched as the emotions raced across her son’s face then his head began to move from side to side. “I see. Like father, like son.”

  “I can make myself come over here.”

  “I know, and Sam, I am so very grateful. Maybe—maybe…” She exhaled so her shoulders would come down from dancing with her earlobes. “I wonder if I should invite him out to lunch or if we should all go on a picnic where we could sit around a fire and talk about the good old days. That song by the Judds just blew through my mind. ‘Grandpa, tell me ’bout the good old days.’ You remember that one.”

  “I do, Dad loved it. Maybe that would help. Of course, we could build a fire in our fire pit. Let me talk to Erica—she has lots of common sense—but I agree with you, talking about the memories would help. Both him and me.”

  “Hey, Dad, you loaded?”

  “I am. I was told you would have cookies for me to take home.”

  Addy took out a plastic container and filled it with the oatmeal cookies, which had cooled on the counter. “Grandma, would you please get that other container out of the pantry? The chocolate chip ones.” She handed her father both containers. “Make sure you bring them back or you won’t get any more.”

  “Whoa, tough taskmaster.” He kissed his daughter’s cheek and hugged his mother. “I’ll get on that,” he whispered in her ear. “Think on tomorrow night.”

  “Tuna salad sandwiches
?” Ginny asked Addy.

  “Sounds good. Think I’ll go brush down Magic and Smoky after lunch.”

  “I think I will take a nap out in the hammock.”

  “Oh, good idea. Remember the time I was reading out there and Grandpa came and dumped me over? I started to get mad and then we both busted out laughing. I miss his laugh. It’s like if I listen really, really hard, I will hear it again.”

  Ginny nodded. “I keep feeling he is right near me, and if I turn quickly enough, I’ll see him.” A sigh escaped her lips. She sniffed. “Just think, if I had baked bread this morning, ah, the sandwiches would be superb.”

  “Let’s do that tomorrow. I want to learn to make bread.”

  “Okay. Let’s eat on the deck. You pour the iced tea and bring it.” Ginny grabbed the sack of chips and carried the two plates out to the umbrella table.

  Later when she’d situated herself in the hammock, she fell asleep listening to the birds sing.

  “Grandma, Grandma.” Addy shook her gently.

  “Wha-what time is it?” Ginny blinked and tried to smile up at her granddaughter. “I guess I really fell asleep.”

  “I thought you might want to be awake before they come.” Addy settled cross-legged down on the grass.

  Ginny looked at her watch. “Oh my goodness, I slept for nearly three hours. Why’d you let me sleep so long?” She carefully sat up and swung her legs over the side. “I had no idea a nap in the hammock could feel so good. You want it for a while?”

  “I was thinking to do the chores early.”

  “Good idea. So what did you do all afternoon, after you groomed the animals, that is?”

  “I cleaned up the kitchen, poured me some iced tea, and settled into the lounger with my book. Spook decided to share it with me so of course the cat got jealous and took over my lap. And they were sleeping so sound that it was contagious and I fell asleep.”

  “You think perhaps we should have one of those lemon bars to get us going again?”

  “Hmmm, let me think on this.” She laid the tip of her index finger against her lips. “Yep, definitely.” She stood with one smooth motion and held out her hand to help her grandma. “Be careful or it will dump you.”

  Ginny stretched both arms above her head and leaned to the right and then the left. “Ah, what a lazy way to spend the afternoon.”

  “Isn’t that what summers are for? And reading one book after another.”

  “You think we should make a salad?” Ginny asked.

  “What? And ruin the pizza?”

  Spook announced the arrival of a car that did not contain family. His barks were very different.

  “We’ll eat out on the deck.” Ginny handed a basket with all the necessary table things to Addy and went to welcome the guests.

  “Let’s eat right away.” Loren was carrying the biggest pizza box. “It smells so good, it was all I could do to not grab a piece.”

  Roxie gave Ginny a hug. “I had to threaten her to keep her fingers out of it. How are you, Addy? Grandma keeping you busy?”

  Ginny snorted. “More like she is keeping me busy.”

  Loren set the box in the middle of the table and looked around. “This is so lovely. Look, Mom, a hammock. We need one in our yard.” They all pulled out their chairs and sat, eyeing the box.

  “Roxie, you want to say grace?” She did and they dug in.

  Ginny wrapped a gooey string of cheese around her finger after taking a couple of bites. “Been a while since I had pizza. Thank you.”

  “Surely they deliver out here?”

  Ginny shrugged. “I guess. We just never bothered to order here. We usually had pizza at Sam’s. Addy and I make darn good pizza.”

  “Grandma used to let me and Andy spread all the toppings. Andy always managed to eat part of the cheese and the pepperoni and she’d swat his hand with the spatula.”

  “Did he learn?” Loren asked.

  “To dodge the spatula, yes.”

  “So, how’s your UFO coming along?” Roxie asked.

  “Mine will be done fairly soon,” Ginny answered and looked at Addy.

  “I’ve ripped those stitches out so many times, I think the yarn is wearing out. I think I’ll give up on it. Knitting just isn’t for me.” Addy reached for another piece of pizza and stared right back at Spook. “You know you do not eat pizza.”

  Loren chuckled. “Sez who? Look at those eyes.”

  “He has begging down to a science, not that it does him any good.” Ginny reached for another piece. A bird singing made her pause. “A cardinal, what a nice serenade for supper.”

  “This is so peaceful. Amalia mentioned that more than once. She really enjoyed her time out here. I think she misses her farm far more than she lets on.” Roxie propped her elbows on the table and nibbled at her slice. “You know, I was thinking the other day. I read an article about shared housing and then I had two sisters who were looking for a house to buy together.”

  “Shared housing, eh?”

  “Yeah, there are books about it now and lots of articles. It might be something you could be interested in. I googled it and there’s plenty of information out there.” She licked some sauce off her fingertip. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. That’s the way you’re supposed to eat pizza.” Ginny sipped her iced tea. Shared housing. Come to think of it, there were those women at the big Original Sewing and Quilting Show in Minneapolis one year. They were talking about the house they shared and how rewarding it was as everyone took a share of the work. Ginny was already feeling overwhelmed about keeping this place up. Might this be an answer to her prayers for the future?

  Chapter Twenty

  You going to the morning group again?” Ginny’s voice on the phone asked.

  “Planning on it.” Amalia laid her knitting down in her lap so she could hold the phone without her neck cramping from positioning it between shoulder and head. “Why?”

  The breeze tickled bare skin, since she was only wearing a tank top and shorts and sitting out on her lanai with her feet up on the other chair. In all the pots surrounding her, plants were growing so fast she could almost measure them. The two tomatoes were nearing the height of the black iron railing. The fuchsia hanging from the ceiling fed several hummingbirds every day, and the pot of ruby penstemon was part of that feeding frenzy. She had affixed a trellis to the wall for the cucumbers to grow up. Most things she could buy at the farmer’s market, but she could eat the lemon cucumbers like an apple with a ripe tomato for dessert.

  “We’re sort of counting noses to make sure we fit,” Ginny explained. “The morning group is getting popular.”

  “Count two. A friend of mine from here at the home is planning on coming with me. By the way, did I tell you we started a UFO group here at the retirement apartments, meets every Tuesday morning? Talk about a refresher for some of these women. I heard one guy refer to this as the old age home. Could have castigated him but didn’t want to get caught in his web of negativity.” Sometimes Amalia threw in unusual words for the pure joy of it.

  “I can’t tell you how much it meant to me, your staying here all that time.” Amalia could feel a smile as she listened to Ginny’s thanks. “I miss you.”

  Amalia agreed with that. “I miss you. And the farm too. Anytime you want me back, let me know. I’m glad you and Addy have such a great time together. Ouch. Oh, cat’s claws don’t feel too good on bare legs.”

  Ginny snickered. “Cat’s claws also pull runs in fabric. Your legs will heal; fabric doesn’t.”

  Down inside, Amalia’s heart sang. Ginny was beginning to sound like her old self again. “So true.” She nodded, tucked her knitting in the bag beside her chair, and settled Jehoshaphat to be more comfortable, now that he would let her pick him up. “You should see my lanai. Thanks to you, I have tomatoes budding, cucumbers climbing up the trellis, and a basket of petunias starting to trail over the sides of the pot. Oh, and the basil smells so good. I made caprese salad last night, even though I had
to buy the tomato to slice with the baby mozzarellas. The basil was grand. I could eat that salad every day.”

  She stroked the cat, hoping to set him to purring. A purring cat was about as relaxing as watching a fish tank. She’d thought about getting one again, but decided to put it off until winter, if at all.

  “What time is it now?” Ginny asked. Amalia knew she’d given up wearing a watch because something in her body chemistry stopped watches.

  “Almost noon. I was trying to decide what I would have for lunch. Wanna go to Annie’s?”

  There was a pause on the line. Perhaps Ginny still felt nervous about going out in public. “Annie’s it is.”

  Ha. Ginny was indeed coming back to life. “Okay, I’ll meet you downstairs. See you in a bit.” She clicked off her cell and stretched her arms over her head, only to feel sharp claws in her thigh. “Sorry, I wasn’t going to dump you down.” Inhaling through her nose, she held it then blew her breath out of her mouth. Immediately the warmth of relaxation bathed from head to toe. “Sorry, Cat, I need to go change clothes, wasn’t planning on going out.” She set the cat on the floor, got a dirty look, and headed for her bedroom. Slipping into capris and adding a white shirt to tie at the waist, she slid her feet into her walking sandals and made her necessary bathroom stop, one more indication of advancing years. Her knitting in a bag over her shoulder that also held her billfold, she moved the cat inside to close and lock the sliding screen door, just to be safe. Big as he was, he could probably reach the latch and open it.

  Downstairs she greeted the woman behind the desk and sat down on the bench outside in the shade. The TV blared from the apartment right above her. The gentleman who lived there desperately needed hearing aids. Perhaps they should all take up an offering to assist him in purchasing some. Of course, that meant he would have to wear them. He fit the curmudgeon stereotype perfectly.

  Ginny and Addy drove in, and Addy got out and climbed in the backseat. After the greetings, Addy leaned forward. “Grandma’s dropping me off at the library for my volunteering time.”

  “And did you bring cookies?” Amalia smiled over her shoulder as she got in.