Page 29 of Endless Southern Love

Clearly, I’m not thinking with the right frame of mind. I curse as the hole fills with water and mud.

“Fuck.” I can’t believe I didn’t think this through. All I should’ve done was tell Jean to cancel school for the day and pray for a freaking heat wave because we need the ground to be solidor at least not a swimming poolin order for me to fix the line break.

I stand there in dirty, calf-deep water, shaking my head. Lemon is going to find a way to blame me for this. I just know it. I figure the only thing I can do is break the piping at the water main. It won’t be an easy fix, but it’s the only solution right now.

After trudging out of the water and back to my truck, I gather the necessary and probably somewhat unnecessary tools I need to do some damage. The thought thrills me, only because I know Lemon is going to be beside herself. I love a fiery Lemon because that’s when she shows passion and gets all flustered. Her cheeks turn red, and she stumbles over her words. At least she does with me.

Anger is the only way she’ll communicate with me these days. It’s better than nothing. After years of avoiding me, I’ll take what I can get.

I make sure the water is off, just in case. The last thing I want is to pull this pipe apart and get blasted. I have a long day ahead of me, and while it’s easy enough to go home and change, the effort to do so seems daunting.

Starting with the wrench, I twist, pull, wiggle, and do whatever else I can to loosen the casing over the valve. I’m starting to think they put some superglue on the threads before the water company tightened it up because it is not budging.

Out of frustration, I whack it a few times with my hammer. Deep down, I know this isn’t going to do anything except it alleviates some of the frustration I feel like right now.

“What are you doing?”

I look up to find the love of my life and my worst enemy wrapped in a tight black skirt with a white blouse, standing inches away from the beginning of the giant ass puddle, wearing those sharp as hell high heels that make her legs look a mile fucking long. And two thoughts pop into my mind. One: she’s going to kill me. Two: I want those legs wrapped around my waist.

“Trying to fix the sprinkler.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It broke.”

“Clearly, or you wouldn’t be fixing it. What’s wrong with it?” She enunciates each word.

“Saying what’s wrong with it more clearly isn’t going to make my answer change. It broke. I’m trying to disconnect the pipe from the valve so the school can have water. If I can’t, no school today.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

I shrug. “You’re right.”

“How long until you have this fixed?” She points to the massive puddle.

I look at it and grimace. “Well, it needs to dry out so I can dig.”

“Why can’t you dig now?”

“Because water fills the hole.”

“Well make it stop.”

I am really starting to love this game.

“I’m trying.” I point to the valve.

“No, that,” she says, pointing to the soaked ground. “Dig the hole or whatever you have to do and fix it.”

“Right,” I say as I adjust my ball cap. “See, here’s the thing. There’s a lot of water on the ground. If I dig a hole, water fills the hole.”

“Like I said, make it stop.”

“How do you suppose I do that, Lemon?”

“It’s Ms. Walsh,” she says sharply. “I know your parents raised you better than to disrespect someone of my stature.”

Lemon’s not joking. She tilts her chin upward, as if she’s some type of royalty. I roll my eyes and shake my head.

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