Ordinary is Perfect

by D. Jackson Leigh

  Catherine shot both of them an irritated look but followed when Autumn got out of the truck. “Do you know what’s going on with her? Angelique is her best friend at school, but she’s acting like she doesn’t want to see her.”

  Autumn stopped and faced Catherine. “Didn’t you tell me that Gabe didn’t go back to school after Becki died?”

  Catherine shrugged. “She was so far ahead of the other kids, and with only four or five weeks remaining in the school year, her counselor just brought her schoolwork over each week so she could finish her lessons, then proctored her end-of-grade test at home. Gabe didn’t want to go to school and face all that sympathy over losing her mom.”

  “So, she hasn’t seen her best friend since Becki died?”

  “No. She’s pretty much stayed on the farm with me.” Catherine’s tone made it clear she still didn’t understand.

  “She’s scared, Catherine. Afraid that when Angelique looks into her eyes and recognizes the pain Gabe’s bottled up, it’ll all come spilling out. And she doesn’t want to be humiliated by crying in front of everybody.”

  “Damn. I didn’t even think of that.” Catherine’s shoulders slumped. “You’re good at this, and I suck so bad.”

  Autumn looped her arm in Catherine’s and turned her toward the people they came to see. “Don’t even. That kid worships you. I’m new and shiny. The cool guardian. But when she scrapes her knee—I’m speaking figuratively, of course—you’re the one she’ll run to.”

  Catherine’s frown relaxed into a small smile. “Maybe.”

  “It takes a village,” Autumn said. “Now let’s get this show on the road.”

  ***

  “Hello, my friends. Mother Luna tells me it’s time. I’ve got three acres ready for corn, and two more ready for beans, tomatoes, peppers, squash, and potatoes.” As Catherine expected, they cheered her announcement, even though they already knew this. She’d sent word several days ago and told them to be ready to work today.

  A middle-aged woman wearing a straw cowboy hat pushed through the crowd and walked toward them, her arms outstretched.

  Catherine’s face heated, but she submitted to Maria’s hug and kisses on each cheek.

  Maria held her hand out to Autumn. “Hello. I’m Maria.”

  Autumn smiled and accepted the handshake. “Autumn.”

  “Yes. I saw you at the memorial. You’re Becki’s cousin and now Gabriella’s guardian.”

  Autumn nodded. “Yes. Well, co-guardian with Catherine.”

  Maria turned to Catherine. “Angel has been very worried about Gabe.”

  “Gabe hasn’t really felt like having company around. I’m a little surprised she wanted to come today.” Catherine glanced back at the truck. “She didn’t want to get out once we got here, though.”

  They paused to watch Angelique open the passenger door and crawl in beside Gabe. Catherine shifted uneasily, then stilled when Autumn’s hand closed around hers.

  “They’ll be fine,” Autumn said. “Let’s just leave them alone while we get the rest organized.”

  Autumn seemed as at ease as Catherine felt agitated, still raw from the flashback and tired from a sleepless night. But she realized Autumn was just better at hiding her feelings. The hand that had grasped Catherine’s was damp with nervous sweat. So, when Autumn released Catherine’s hand, she caught it again and didn’t let go, tugging Autumn toward the waiting workers.

  The men respectfully removed their hats, holding them to their chests as they nodded and greeted Autumn, some responding in English and some in Spanish when Catherine introduced them. They were Hispanic laborers and had learned to be wary of touching white women, even for a handshake. The women had no such reservations, most extending their hands to her even if they had to put down a child or shift a baby to a different hip to do it. Only a few eyed her and were polite, but not warm.

  “Everybody on the bus. We are wasting daylight.” Maria issued her orders in Spanish, then English. While some adults hurried to load tools and coolers full of food and drinks, others herded the children onto a bus.

  Catherine was glad she’d bought that old school bus last year and given it to the residents of Shady Grove Trailer Park. She helped by paying for parts and paint, but the residents pitched in the skills and labor to refurbish the lumbering vehicle so children could be loaded up and driven directly to their schools, workers could be driven into town or to a work site, or the women could gather and go shopping together. Fans were installed to circulate air, and several rows of seats were removed in the back to create a play area for babies and toddlers. Today, it would serve as transport, nursery, and siesta lounge while they worked.

  ***

  Autumn dug into the black soil with her hand spade, but dirt fell into the hole she’d made before she could fill it with the young tomato plant set out to be planted. Her back ached, and sweat dripped from her chin. She dropped the spade to dig out the hole again with her fingers and cursed for the hundredth time that morning. Her fingernails were never going to be clean again. She slammed the plant into the hole before it could fill a second time, then pounded the dirt around it.

  “You have to be careful and not pack the soil so tightly. The roots are tender at this stage.”

  Autumn looked up into a pair of dark wraparound sunglasses. Catherine’s words were soft and her tone held no admonishment, but she was focused on rescuing the abused plants.

  “I…I guess I’m not cut out to be a farmer.” Autumn sat back and watched Catherine as she carefully loosened the soil Autumn had jammed around the last three plants. If she hadn’t been working near her all morning, she’d swear that Catherine had gone to the house and napped for a few hours. Her movements were smooth and relaxed, and the tightness in her voice and the signs of tension and fatigue had disappeared from her face. “But you seem to be. This work relaxes you, doesn’t it?”

  Catherine didn’t look up. “I suppose it does. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetition of planting. And I love the smell of a freshly turned field, knowing that what I’m growing will feed hungry people. I like the self-sufficiency of farming. If I wanted, I could produce everything I needed right here on this farm.” She finished her task, then picked up the next plant set out along that row. “Watch how I do this.”

  She drove the eight-inch spade into dirt and, with a flick of her wrist, twisted it to open a hole. She simultaneously dropped the plant alongside the tool, then nudged soil to fill around it as she withdrew the tool. She lightly patted the soil around the plant to secure it and moved to the next. Autumn was mesmerized by Catherine’s efficient movements and concentration. In less than the time it had taken Autumn to place one plant, Catherine had put three in the ground.

  “Now come on. You try it.”

  Autumn shuffled forward on her knees. She raised her spade but was stopped by Catherine’s hand on her wrist.

  “Pick up the plant with your other hand and think of this as one movement, not two separate ones.”

  Autumn nodded, then made a clumsy, unsuccessful attempt to imitate what Catherine had done.

  Catherine carefully dug the small plant out and took Autumn’s spade from her.

  “I can do it. That was just my first try.” She didn’t like failure. Ever. No matter if it was just being able to plant a damn tomato seedling.

  “I know. But this should help.” Catherine smiled and took out her pocket knife, scratching a line near the top of the tool’s blade. “Stab the spade into the dirt all the way to this line. You want the hole deep enough to bury two-thirds of the stem.” She stood to move behind Autumn, rather than facing her. “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

  Without waiting for Autumn to reply, Catherine dropped to her knees behind Autumn and laid the plant in her hand. Catherine shuffled close, leaned over Autumn’s back, and put her hands over Autumn’s.

  “You just need to get the feel of the movements. Place the plant instead of dropping it. You do that by sliding your plant-ha
nd in as you twist to push back the dirt. Ready?”

  Autumn nodded and tried to focus on the task rather than Catherine’s breath on her ear and Catherine’s enticing scent—sweat mixed with the coconut oil of her sunscreen. Her hands were gentle but firm as she guided Autumn through the motion. Stab, twist-place, cover, gently pat.

  “Good. Let’s do it again.”

  Catherine leaned back, and they knee-walked the two feet to the next plant. Autumn picked up the plant, readied her spade, and closed her eyes to savor the feel of Catherine against her back again, the perfect fit of Catherine’s long arms around her, Catherine’s strong hands cupping hers.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded, opened her eyes, and they placed a second plant perfectly.

  “Got the hang of it now?” Catherine asked, her breath washing over Autumn’s neck.

  “One more time?”

  “Once more.” Catherine withdrew, and they shuffled to the next plant.

  Autumn picked up the next plant, lifted her tool, and was struggling to focus when Catherine’s arms slid around her a third time. This time, Catherine’s hand cupped but didn’t guide Autumn’s hands. Then she sat back while Autumn administered the finishing pats.

  “I think you’ve got it down,” Catherine said, her voice husky.

  Autumn’s phone began the R2D2 beeps that signaled a text, and Catherine stood. She shoved her hands into her pockets, appearing a little uncertain. “Everybody breaks for lunch and a short siesta when they reach the end of their row. They’ll have food and drinks for everyone over at the bus.”

  “Okay,” Autumn said, feeling…something. She watched Catherine’s long strides to where she knelt six or eight rows away from Autumn. What did she feel? She peered down her row. The rest of the workers were way ahead of both her and Catherine, but Catherine was working fast and gaining on most of them. Damn. She was even farther behind than Catherine. And these rows seemed to go on forever. At this rate she might get her lunch break around three that afternoon. Her phone sounded a text notification again, but she ignored it, shuffled forward and picked up the next plant.

  ***

  Stab, twist-place, cover, pat, next.

  Catherine repeated the words in her head to push out any other thoughts. She’d let Autumn drive her truck to the fields so Angelique could ride with Gabe. Maria had offered for her to ride in the bus but nodded her understanding when Catherine indicated she would be riding with Miguel.

  “Go,” Maria said. “I can see your demons are back. Miguel can help.”

  She didn’t like smoking the cannabis that a lot of soldiers found gave them gentle relief from the flashbacks and nightmares without the debilitating side effects of standard psychiatric drugs. It didn’t help the worst cases, but it’d helped her and many others. She normally had some pure cannabis extract on hand, now a recognized medical product legal in many states. But it’d been a long time since she’d suffered much from the flashbacks, so she’d never replenished her supply when the last of what she had was gone. And it wasn’t legal in this state where she’d settled…yet.

  So, she and Miguel hung back until the others had left, and then they went to his trailer, where he filled a small pipe and waited for her to smoke it. He didn’t expect her to share it because Miguel didn’t keep the cannabis for recreational use. The residents of Shady Grove were poor, and because few had health insurance, they made use of the natural medicines their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents had used. Cannabis was useful for many ailments.

  The cannabis had quieted her agitation and settled her mind. But it also heightened her senses and lowered her inhibitions. Otherwise, she would have never pressed against Autumn’s back, breathed in the remnants of her perfume, and cupped her hands as they worked the earth. It had taken every bit of her concentration to refrain from tasting her lovely neck.

  Spade, twist-place, cover, pat, next.

  She’d regret it when the cannabis wore off. At the moment, she would focus on the task at hand.

  Spade, twist-place, cover, pat, next.

  She’d shut down the images that were a flashing tease in her head.

  Spade, twist-place, cover, pat, next.

  Images of Autumn naked, maybe standing at the window while dawn caressed the curves of her body. Or writhing under her, beautiful against the soft sherpa blanket on Catherine’s bed.

  Spade, twist-place, cover, pat, next.

  Distraction. She needed distraction. Catherine paused and scanned for Gabe. But Gabe was fine. She and Angelique were bent over the same row, planting two seedlings at a time. They should have completed a full row and at least a third of a second. But they talked as they worked, and Catherine saw Maria and her sister making fast work of the second row assigned to the girls. Maria looked up, checking on Gabe and Angelique, then finding Catherine to share a smile. Catherine mouthed a silent “thank you” and stood. She’d finished her row. Autumn still had a third left, so Catherine blamed the cannabis in her system and knelt at the end of Autumn’s furrow, working her way back toward the too-young, too-city, too-beautiful woman who was way out of Catherine’s league.

  ***

  “So, what is it that you do in the city?” Maria and several other women had brought their plates of food and sat with Autumn.

  Her hasty breakfast was a distant memory, but she just wanted to fill her belly and lie back on the blanket spread under the shade trees that lined the field where they were working. She flashed back to a day when a group of mean girls had brought their plates over to the cafeteria table where she sat alone and began to ask questions meant to humiliate. “Where’d you get that sweater? It looks like my old one my mother donated to the thrift shop. Look. It even has ink on the sleeve like mine did. I wouldn’t be seen wearing it after I got ink on it.” The questions had continued about her parents, where she lived, why she brought her lunch when she surely qualified for the poor kids’ free lunch plan.

  She put her plate down. “I own a digital marketing company.”

  They stared at her. Then Maria broke into a huge smile and pushed the shoulder of the woman sitting next to her.

  “See, Helena? What did I tell you? Autumn is young, but she owns her own company. You should stop telling Serena that she should quit making her jewelry and marry a husband with a good job.”

  “I have no idea what this digital thing means,” Helena said. “Is it legal?”

  “Explain this to us,” Maria said to Autumn.

  Autumn looked around for Catherine, but she was some distance away, in deep discussion with two of the men who were pointing toward another field. Since no rescue seemed likely, she gathered her thoughts. She explained her work and how it would raise a company’s image at every presentation she gave to new clients. She held her finger up while she took a big drink from her water bottle. Then she wiped her mouth.

  “Okay. Let’s say that Maria sells used cars. She has many parked in a lot by the highway and big signs to get the attention of anyone who drives past. But most of the people who drive past are the same every day, and she’s already sold cars to them. She needs to tell people who don’t drive down her road about her great car deals.”

  “She needs to sell vegetables instead of cars,” Helena said. “People need tomatoes every day. They can drive a car for years before they need a new one.”

  Maria swatted Helena again. “Don’t interrupt. I want to hear this.”

  “It’s okay,” Autumn said. “I can explain it to you later. I don’t want to bore everybody else.”

  “No, no.” The other women reached for her when she started to stand. “We want to hear this,” one of the women said.

  “When you say digital marketing, are you talking about markets on the internet, like eBay and Etsy?” a younger woman asked.

  “Not exactly.” Autumn sat again. “Ten years ago, if Maria wanted to sell more cars, she would pay for an advertisement in the newspaper or a commercial to air on a local television station
. But people don’t read newspapers so much anymore, and they record shows on television so they can fast-forward past the commercials.”

  Maria nodded. “I do that all the time.”

  Autumn looked at one of young women. “How do you get your news?”

  Helena snorted. “She spends all her time on Facebook and twits.”

  The younger woman laughed. “Tweets, Mama.”

  Autumn smiled. “Exactly. If Maria came to my company, we could make a plan to have her advertisement pop up in the Facebook feeds of anyone who has been looking at cars on the internet. We’d make a Facebook page for her car lot and post on it every time she gets a new car to sell or offers a special deal or makes a sale to a happy customer. We’d set up her social media so that every post would also show up on Twitter and Instagram. And our account representative would track how many people were looking at your ads, what area they live in, and which posts are drawing the most interest. Then they’d advise you on what to post and when to get the best results.”

  The young woman brightened with excitement. “Serena’s jewelry is beautiful. I know she could sell a lot more if people knew about it. She sells on Etsy, but so do lots of others. She just needs to do something to get noticed.”

  “Thirty minutes,” Catherine called.

  The women jumped up and began collecting the trash from their lunch.

  “What are we doing?” Autumn asked, confused by the sudden scramble.

  “Back to work in thirty minutes, so we have that long for siesta,” Maria said. “You don’t have to do this work, you know. But if you want to last the afternoon, your back will thank you later for lying flat on this blanket now.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Autumn closed her eyes and groaned when her back straightened after being hunched between the dirt furrows for hours. “This is hard work. I hope Catherine pays you guys a living wage.”

  “I don’t pay them anything.”

  Autumn squinted up at Catherine, who was lowering herself to stretch out on the other side of the blanket. “What?”