Page 82 of Patching Over

“I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to the area or just passing through?” she questions, her hands moving quickly to run my items over the scanner.

“Just passing through, although I won’t lie, it’s so beautiful here, I’d have no problems settling down,” I admit.

These past few days spent at Fred’s favorite spot have been relaxing, even more so than the time I stayed with Dr. Terry and his wife, Judith. The fresh mountain air, the lake; both have contributed to ease my battered spirit. In fact, since I reached out to Dr. Zack and Dr. Terry both, I plan to stay another week because they have a friend who has a vet clinic about five or so miles away, and it’s almost time to get Sassy’s cast off. Mine too, but I’ll worry about me after I’m sure she’s back to herself.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” the cashier says. “Went away for about six months for college, but it wasn’t for me, so I came back home and do my classes online now.”

“I miss my grandparents’ farm where I grew up,” I quietly reply. “But I had to get out of there.”

She looks at my cast and a sad expression crosses her face. “Maybe you’ll be able to go back at some point?” she asks.

“Once the trash has been removed,” I retort, which makes her giggle.

Leaning in, she whispers, “I can shoot a tick off a raccoon’s ass if you need any help.” Then, louder, since she’s got a line forming behind me now, she states, “That’ll be forty-five twenty-eight, unless you’ve got the savings card, then it’ll be less.”

“Glory, you know she’s an out-of-towner! Here, use my card so she gets the benefits,” a grumpy voice says from behind me.

Turning slightly, I see a woman who may possibly be older than dirt based on the wrinkles that cover her face, but I see kindness in her eyes despite her grumpy tone. “Thank you for that,” I tell her, smiling. “I should probably start signing up for these things so I can get the deals.”

“Honey, a penny saved is a penny earned,” the old crone replies. “You in that RV out there? The one with the pretty cat sunning itself on the dashboard?”

I start giggling when I visualize how Sassy must look to anyone passing by. “Yes, ma’am, that’s mine. The cat’s name is Sassy and I’ve had her since she was a tiny kitten.”

“She’s a beautiful cat. Now, Steven, you need to get this young lady bagged up so she can go take care of her fur baby.”

“Yes, Mrs. Casen,” the pimply-faced teenager croaks out while I hand the clerk, Glory, my money once she tells me the revised total.

Less than five minutes later, the bag boy has me all loaded up and is pushing my cart for me. As we approach my RV, I see that Sassy is indeed sunning herself on the dashboard, her tail lazily swishing back and forth.

Once I unlock the RV, Steven hands me the bags then lifts the case of bottled water and slides it onto the floor for me. When I go to hand him some money as a tip, he refuses, saying, “We’re not allowed to take tips, ma’am.”

“But you helped me bring my stuff out to my car!” I exclaim.

“It’s part of our service,” he replies. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to lift the water by yourself with your cast on.”

He’s right; I actually had to have another customer put it in my cart for me. I have one of those small, countertop ice makers, but because water is different everywhere and therefore, it tastes funny sometimes, I use bottled water to make the ice.

“Can I insist?” I ask.

“You can, but truly, we don’t accept tips from customers,” he reiterates, pulling the cart slightly back from my RV.

“Then thank you for all your help. I would’ve had to get the water out one or two bottles at a time,” I say, giggling at the picture which forms in my head.

He chuckles then waves. “I hope you enjoy your stay in our town. Some people don’t like the slower life, but it’s pretty nice.”

“So, you don’t plan to leave?” I inquire, shocked that a teenager would be okay staying in a small town.

“Maybe? I don’t really know. I’m up for a cross country scholarship, but if I left there’d be nobody to help my mama out.”

“Good luck to you,” I say, stepping out from the interior so I can move to the driver’s side.

“Thanks.”

While on my way back to the campsite, I spot a roadside vegetable stand and decide to get some since the time of year is perfect for the ones I love to eat. Pulling over, I ensure Sassy is safe and secure before getting out and locking up my RV. When I see the older man sitting there, whittling on some wood, I immediately think of Grampy and have to push my tears back.

Memories assault me of being a little girl, by his side at the farmer’s market, while he worked a piece of wood as we waited for customers to make their selection. Finally in front of the oldman, I smile, even though I know it’s a bit shaky, and ask, “By any chance do you have some farm fresh eggs?”

His answering grin lets me know he does as he leans over and pulls out several cartons then sets them on the table in front of him. “Sure do, little missy. How many you looking to buy?”

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