Page 26 of The Promise Of Rain
She looked happier today.
So was I.There was no mention or disparagement of Jenny the last time I was here.Of course, that may have been due to my brothers and their families crowding in as well.
It had been chaos of the best kind.
Working with them on the farm after all these years allowed me to know them in ways I never did.When I left, they still saw me as a kid.
The ongoing joke was my head was in the clouds while their feet were firmly planted on the ground.I never understood what was so funny about it.Why trudge across the earth when you can sail across the skies?
We’d never had a lot in common, but there was something nostalgic about doing chores with them once more.
Truthfully, there was little for me to do.Which was my signal it was time for me to back away before they created a place for me I didn’t want.
What did I want?
I smiled and dipped my head for her kiss.“How are you, Mom?It smells good in here.”
She beamed up at me then grabbed my hand and tugged me into the kitchen.“It’s just you, me, and Dad today.I thought we could all go to church together this morning,” she chattered.
Pressing my lips together to stopper the response that balanced on the tip of my tongue, I replied, “Perhaps another time.”
My father walked into the kitchen.He was slow, but no cane today.Dressed in his suit for Sunday service, he looked better than he had the last time I’d seen him.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God, I did, but after all this time, I wasn’t sure I believed in church.I met God on the battlefield, in orphanages, and in the stench and decay of human depravity.
There were times I felt Him there, and other times I cursed Him for his absence.But one thing I was sure of: He wasn’t sitting in church.
“You look good, Dad.”
He smiled and winked at my mother who blushed.“Today is a good day.”
I pulled out his chair.“I’m glad.”
The tension I’d carried in anticipation of more derogatory comments about Jenny slowly dissipated as my parents regaled me with the happenings around town and on the farm.At one point, my mother placed her hand over my father’s as she laughed.
His eyes dropped to take in the easy affection my mother showered on him for as long as I could remember.
It was only in the last few years I’d noticed the change.
I stared into space, my eyes narrowing.When did it start?
I’d never known my mother to be angry, but when I moved in with Jenny, she was furious.
I yearned for those days.Living in that little apartment in Moose Lake with its threadbare sofa and zero-count sheet sets was the happiest I’d ever been.
Our farm shared borders with miniscule Moose Lake on one side and the growing township of Peppergrove on the other.
Most of our farm workers came from Moose Lake, and Moose Lake was arguably closer, but it was in Peppergrove where we shopped, went to church, where my brothers and I went to school, and where I attended Air Cadets.
Moose Lake was the magical world I shared with Jenny, a small town whose population fairly doubled in the summer due to the dozens of cottages dotting the perimeter of the lake.
The morning I met Jenny, she was filling in for her mom at our farmstand at the market, and I was delivering produce as usual.
At first, I was confused, thinking I came to the wrong stand, but the banner hanging over the table clearly spelled out the name of our farm.
I halted in place and watched her for five solid minutes, the flatbed stacked with boxes of produce forgotten behind me.
Jenny stood behind the table with her beautiful face tilted up to the morning sun.Dropping her chin, she checked the time and twisted her head one way and another looking for the delivery that was late.
