Page 9 of The Solstice Additions
“Did you hear any peeps, Saba?” I smiled at the Hebrew word for grandpa as he wrapped his arms around me from behind. The geese exited the coop, long white wings out and beating the summer air as they stretched.
“Nary a one.” I sighed. He gave me a soft squeeze.
“You’re worse than your mother,” he teased.
I gasped. “You take that back!” I exclaimed and got a hearty chuckle. “I’m not calling Wilma every twelve hours for a cloaca report.”
Kenan snorted beside my ear. He smelled so good. Like sleepy man and lemon drops. “To be fair to Carmen, it’s not that unusual to be checking in since your sister is having some minor things taking place already.”
Yeah, I was a little concerned too. The baby wasn’t due for another two weeks, but Nora was having all kinds of cramps and light bleeding. Mom was packing as we spoke to leave for Canada. I was on emergency standby as I was the birthing brother. That still freaked me out, not going to lie. Why couldn’t my sister just lay an egg like Wilma?
“But hey, don’t get tense, babe. The odds are high that everything will be just fine.”
“Yeah, of course.” I leaned back into his embrace to watch the sun peek over the tip of the pines to fall on my two expectant feathered parents. I would not rehash the info that I’d read online about the health complications that babies born early could have. Nope, was not going there. It would all be fine. Nora would rest. Mom would cook. Antoine would fret. The baby would hang out where it was for another two weeks. Yep. I would mentally will that scenario into existence.
“Since I have you all wrapped up like this, I came up with a few new menu ideas,” he whispered ever so sweetly in my ear. My eyes rolled to the bluebird sky. “Just two new additions, well, plus the corn that we’re cooking this weekend for corn on the cob day. None of the regulars remember that from years past…”
“They’re old and drunk most of the time. Once Peterman Barnes ate a whole jar of beef jerky sticks after downing three pitchers of Bud and then showed the bar what remained of histesticles after a farming accident back in ?89. Next day he didn’t remember a thing.”
Kenan shuddered. “Okay, point made. I will have to run to the farmers market early to pick up the four bushels of corn I ordered from Lucas Montgomery. He’s going to make a run down into the Philly area to get it since the corn up here isn’t even knee high yet.”
“Sure, yeah, that’s always the case.” I was such a corn cob fibber. “Okay, I’m not in the mood to argue against it, so whisper in my ear what you want to add, and we’ll see if it floats my boat.” Fred, hot on his mate’s tail, followed Wilma around the coop to the creek at breakneck speed. I found it humorous as hell watching waterfowl run.
“Perhaps we could add a lighter sandwich, something not deep fried, for those who are trying to choose a healthier lifestyle.”
“Okay, I guess so. Like what?” I ran my fingers over his forearms, enjoying how the hairs on his arm crinkled under my touch.
“Well, I was looking at something like egg salad or tuna salad.” I shrugged. I could do that. Tuna was good. Pretty easy. Open a can, add mayo. Viola. “Or if you wanted to get a little more adventurous, we could add some avocado to the menu as a topping. Maybe some whole wheat bread or even pita wraps.”
Yeah, that sounded okay. Nothing too far out. Simple but lighter. Living healthy. Yadda, yadda.
“I guess we could do something like that. I mean, wedoserve light beer,” I commented and got a huge hug and a smooch on the neck.
“That’s great! The customers will be thrilled. Maybe we could add some sides as well, you know, a little something new to place on the plate.”
“If you say pickled eggs, I will divorce you.”
“We’re not married,” he softly reminded me.
Right. Yes, obviously I knew that. Marriage. What a goofy concept. Me. Kenan. Married. As if. I mean, the logistics were…well, they were out there. We both owned our own homes for starters. One of us would have to sell their cabin. Sure, we spent every night with each other, usually him here, so we could tend to Fred and Wilma in the morning. And yes, I ate many meals at his place after I shut up the geese. And sure, we did work well together. The alehouse was doing incredibly well, his talent pulling in people from fifty miles or more away on the nights that he performed. Seemed his fans still longed to listen to him even though he had left show business. Other than his predilection for pickled eggs, we were really pretty simpatico.
“Hey, are you still with me here?”
His voice beside my ear pulled me from some sort of hazy what-if matrimonial daydream. “Yep, still here. Just trying to decide between wheat and pita.”
“I’m so happy you’re willing to open up for a new experience. Thank you. I love you more every day.”
“Me too,” I murmured as a robin landed in the yard to begin hunting for worms.
New experiences. That was not me at all and yet, standing here in his arms as a new day sprang to life, I found myself wondering what other new life adventures I was willing to dip my toes into. Maybe adding light mayo or a new craft beer? Hell, maybe I could ask Kenan to move in or even marry—
Whoa.
Some jets needed to be cooled right here and now. One morning cuddle did not a proposal make. That required at least several major film stars, a town in Alaska, and a blanket that had magical reproductive powers. None of which were to be found here in Whiteham. Unless the quilting club was doing some funky juju magic on their county fair entry this year.
“Get Low” by Lil Jon started jamming inside my head.
It would probably stay there for days…
