Page 49 of Something that Could Last

His eyes finally meet mine and my heart breaks at the sadness swimming in them. His jaw clenches and he looks away before continuing. “I begged him to let me at least make one pass on it. Just one. I promised him I would be careful and wouldn’t go too fast. He finally caved but swore me to secrecy. I couldn’t tell my mother. That should’ve been my first clue. He was apprehensive, and I should’ve known better.

“I climbed up into that seat like I was climbing into an Indy race car.” A small smile touches his lips before he forges ahead. “Ray showed me all the controls and explained how everything worked. I was way more excited over the prospect of mowing the lawn than I should have been, but I’d been sheltered my whole life, never allowed to do anything that could get me hurt or ruin our image. No menial work for Senator Daniels’ sons,” he mocks. “I didn’t even know how to wash my own clothes when I went off to college. How pathetic is that?” he scoffs, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.

I can tell he's ashamed, but it's not his fault. It’s just how he was brought up.

“Getting up on that lawn mower was freedom to me. And maybe a little rebellion. I knew my mother wouldn’t like it, and that made me want to do it even more. I’d only made a few passes when I heard her screams of fury.” He winces as he recalls the incident. “She came barreling down the yard in her tailored pantsuit, her high heels sticking in the soft ground. I’ll never forget the look of fear on Ray’s face when he pulled the keys out of the ignition and helped me down.” He pauses and takes another deep breath, and I know the next part is going to be bad. The far-off look in his eyes tells me he’s reliving this memory, seeing it over again.

“She was inches from Ray’s face, screaming at him. ‘How dare you let my child cut the grass when you’re the one I’m paying to do it?’ ‘How dare you put him in danger like that!’ I was crying because I was afraid of what she was going to do to him. What she was going to do tome. I truly thought I’d done something wrong, something that put my life at risk. I felt so guilty.

“It wasn’t until I was a little older that I realized what the real issue was that day. To her, that kind of work was beneath her, and by extension, beneath me. We were better than that. God forbid somebody saw me doing such a demeaning chore. It was all about appearances to her.”

I can't help but feel anger towards his mother, a woman I've never met. Who treats their child that way? And for that matter, who treats someone the way she treated Ray? I grit my teeth to keep from letting my disgust show.

“Finally, hearing the commotion outside, Dad walked out of the house and trekked across the lawn towards us. At that point, she was threatening to fire Ray and promising he would never find work in that town again. It made me sick to see her throwing around her power like that. That’s the day I realized what a bully she was. Even though he was a grown man, all Ray could do was sit there in shock and take her abuse.

“My father was finally able to calm her down and get her back into the house. When I looked back at Ray, his jaw was clenched in anger, his eyes staring daggers at the back of her head. But his features softened when he looked at me. I was quietly sobbing. A twelve-year-old boy. Sobbing,” he winces, “and praying Ray wouldn’t lose his job. I told him I was sorry for getting him in trouble, but he assured me none of it was my fault. For a minute, I thought Ray was going to cry right along with me. Instead, he became stoic as my father approached. He apologized vehemently, but Dad waved his hand dismissively and promised he would remain employed.

“Dad sent me back into the house, but I lingered, wanting to hear what he would say to Ray. I was afraid he would take Mom’s side and fire him. He started talking about anger, depression, and grief, but I didn’t understand any of it at the time. So, with my tear-stained face and snotty nose, I trudged back up to the house and locked myself in my room, leaving Ray to his fate.

“I was ecstatic to see him back the next week, but I didn’t dare go near him for fear of getting him in trouble again. I avoided him for years after that. I didn’t talk to him, not even a “hello” in passing. I felt bad because I liked Ray, but I couldn’t risk doing something to make him lose his job. It wasn’t until I got my first car that I had the balls to face him again. He helped me check the oil and showed me how to change a tire. With my mother’s permission, of course.”

His obvious resentment towards his mother makes my heart hurt. I understand that feeling all too well.

“Anyway,” he continues as if he hasn’t just revealed something huge about his past and his family to me, “Ray and I are cool now, but I’ve never attempted to cut grass since. And I’ve certainly never used one of those,” he adds, pointing to the push mower. His eyes crinkle at the corners with a genuine smile, and his playful tone eases some of the tension.

I’m glad he feels comfortable enough to share such an intimate, long-buried secret with me, but I wonder what he might still be holding back. I guess that will have to wait until later because by the way he’s trying to start the weed eater, I fear for his safety.

AFTER TWO HOURS,we’re nearly finished with the yard. It usually takes me much longer, but having Jacob here is a huge help. Once I showed him how to use the weed eater properly, he took to it like a pro. We’re raking up the last of the grass clippings when my grandmother comes out with two large glasses of lemonade.

“You looked thirsty,” she asserts, handing me a drink. I guzzle it as ice cubes clink against the side of the glass.

She hands Jacob a glass when he approaches us, but studiously averts her eyes. His sculpted, bare chest glistening with sweat is conveniently at eye level. Her tan cheeks flush deep red and I know she was checking him out. I can't blame her. She may be in her sixties, but she can still appreciate a good-looking man.

“Jacob, you've worked so hard helping Abigail,” my grandmother praises. “You must let me pay you for a job well done.” She turns towards the house, planning on retrieving her checkbook, no doubt. She has no idea how little Jacob needs her money.

Jacob puts his hands up. “That won't be necessary, ma'am. Abby is making me dinner tomorrow night. That's all the payment I need.” He winks at me and smiles, revealing perfect, gleaming white teeth. His smile could give any leading man in Hollywood a run for his money.

“That sounds like a great idea. I'll make a homemade peach cobbler for the two of you.”

“Peach cobbler sounds wonderful. I've never had it before.”

“Well, you're in luck, because I make the best peach cobbler in all of West Virginia.” With that, my grandmother pats Jacob's cheek and turns and walks back into the house. I think she might be falling for him just as hard as I am.

“I want one of those.” I look at Jacob in time to see him gazing longingly at her retreating form.

“Huh?”

“Your grandma. I want a grandma like that,” he discloses, pointing to where she just disappeared into the house.

“Yeah, she's pretty special.” I smile warmly at the thought of my enisi.

“I don't remember my dad's mom. She died when I was little. Breast cancer, I think. My other grandmother is a lot like my mom, more concerned with appearances and fundraisers than baking for her grandkids.”

My heart aches to think that he never had a grandmother to make him cobbler and cookies and apple pie. It makes me cherish mine even more.

“Well, I’m positive that if you flash that mega-watt smile enough, my grandmother will make you all the peach cobbler you want.” I wrap my arms around his waist and smile up at him, resting my chin on his chest. He deserves to have someone fawn over him. “And if you play your cards right, she might even make a special blackberry cobbler, too. But you’ll have to share that one with me,” I add. “She doesn't make those very often, and they’re my favorite.”

“No way,” he replies, shaking his head. “If I get a blackberry cobbler, I'm eating the whole damn thing,” he taunts, squeezing me tight. “In one sitting,” he adds playfully. He presses his lips lightly to mine before releasing me. As I start to walk away, he swats my butt and I yelp in surprise.

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