Page 9 of Over the Verdant Hills
It had started to get dark, and it was a little chilly. Not so terrible that he felt like he needed to go in, but chilly enough that he was concerned that Claire might be cold, especially if she was just sitting out there because her grandma wanted her to.
“Is there anything you do want to talk about?” he asked, figuring he ought to give the conversation one more try.
She was quiet for a bit, and then she said, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not very good company. I just… There were reasons why I stayed away from here, and seeing you brings a lot of those back.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He really couldn’t help it, though, other than make himself disappear, which he hadn’t quite mastered the knack of yet.
“You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one that has problems.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke but glanced down at her cake and then out over the pasture, like there was more to see than the gathering dusk.
“I guess sometimes I feel like it’s better to face the things that you don’t like than to try to run from them. After all, they always catch up to you one way or another.” That’s kind of how he’d felt when he’d ended up staying after high school. There were people who thought he was a loser because he wasn’t more ambitious, because he didn’t go to college, because he still lived with his parents through his twenties andwas now in his thirties. There were all kinds of things he could run from, hide from, and try to ignore in his life. But like he had just told Claire, he’d found that sooner or later, they caught up with you.
“I suppose you know all about that,” she said, and there was a good bit of sarcasm in her voice.
He didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to do? Tell her that he did know about it and start listing all the things he had run from over the years?
He didn’t want to do that.
“I suppose I figure that everyone’s trial feels big to them. It might not be what someone else is going through. Someone else might have it a lot worse, but in your life, it feels like the biggest thing ever. You know?”
She pressed her lips together. Even from that distance, he could see that they were so tight there was a white line between them.
Whatever he had said had made her mad. It was funny—he was trying to not make her mad but obviously failing miserably.
“Aren’t you just a fountain of wisdom,” she said, and there was no doubt about the sarcasm in her voice this time.
He put the last piece of cake in his mouth and then chewed slowly.
“You going to eat that?” he asked, nodding at the piece in her lap and figuring that they might not be talking, but he still hated to see a good piece of cake go to waste.
“No,” she said softly.
“Mind if I do?” he asked. The cake, at least, was a neutral topic. Unless she got mad at him for wanting the piece she’d just said she wasn’t going to eat.
“You ate that whole piece she gave you?” she asked, seeming interested in something about him for the first time since he’d walked in.
“I sure did. I don’t get cake very often, so I’m gonna savor every bite and eat as much as I can.” That wasn’t entirely true. If Miss Mattie tried to shove the entire cake at him, he wouldn’t eat it all in one sitting. But since her cake was already cut and she wasn’t eating it, he wasn’t going to sit there and pretend he didn’t want it.
“I guess I don’t,” she said, and to his surprise, she got up and walked her plate over, handing it to him.
He took it, holding onto it for just a moment while he looked up,the light still bright enough that he could look into her eyes. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am. I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.” She rolled her eyes and removed her hand from the plate, walking back over to the rocking chair. He half expected her to go back inside.
“Now me being polite has offended you.”
“‘Ma’am’ is for old ladies.”
“You’re not a young teenager anymore. You’re not in your twenties either.”
“Don’t you know it’s impolite to talk about a lady’s age?”
“You graduated with me. I know exactly how old you are. Am I supposed to pretend I don’t?” he asked before he slid his fork into her cake and put half the piece in his mouth. “Now, if I asked you how much you weigh, you’d have a right to attack me for that.”
“I wouldn’t attack you.” Her head jerked over toward him, and she looked truly offended.
“I don’t know. I guess if you say you didn’t, then you must not have, but it felt like an attack.” Like everything else she’d hurled at him since he’d walked through the door.
“I told you I’m sorry. I guess the move has just been that hard.”
