Page 7 of Glass & Groundwork
Gio adjusted his glasses and glanced back at his kids before saying, “I had someone very important to me who taught me that the things you have only hold value when you share it with others. What good is a house or a pot or a barn if they're empty?”
When everything had a monetary value for my family and worth was measured by the number of zeroes in your paycheck, it was a completely foreign and utterly refreshing concept that had me in awe. “Sounds like a wonderful person.”
Gio smiled wistfully. “Yes, he was.”
I stepped into Gio and his arms wrapped around me, drawing me in tight. I let myself relax against him for a moment before breaking apart. “Thank you, again, truly. This means the world to me. I'll probably be by soon with someone to walk the barn and get an estimate, but I'll let you know.”
“No problem. Have a good night.”
I smiled wide. “You, too, Gio.”
My feet barely touched the ground with how light I felt on my way to the Jeep. Just as I reached it, Gio called out, “Jasper?”
Facing him, I replied, “Yeah?”
“Dinner is at six-thirty every night. You're welcome to join us whether you're already here or not. You don't need to call ahead for that, just show up.”
“Thank you.” The words didn't feel big enough for the gesture or how much it meant to me. His sincere and generous offer cracked something open in me. I'd never had a friend whose house I could show up at whenever I wanted, and it gave me the feeling of home in a way I wasn't used to. How had I been lucky enough to find such a genuine and caring individual?
Gio
Ihad fully anticipated the razzing I got from the kids after Jasper left, based on the comments from before his arrival. It was all in good humor and I was grateful that they'd made him feel comfortable while he was here, looping him into conversations. What Ihadn'texpected, though, was the effect their teasing would have on me, or the way I kept feeling myself smile. A smile that seemed to stretch my lips even as I settled into bed that night.
It didn't mean anything, though. I was simply caught up in the wake of Jasper's infectious joy. The way his eyes lit up in the barn when he realized I was offering it to him replayed over and over in my mind. Maybe it was a bit impulsive, but I had the means to help him, so why wouldn’t I? Besides, something about it felt right, and I couldn’t explain why. If he were one of mykids, I would have done that, or more, for them. I'd meant what I said about sharing what I have. Stuff was just stuff, space was just space. Jasperwasn'tone of my kids, though. A distinction that was made very clear by Yahir and Eduardo’s suggestive comments.
Jasper was just a friend. Anewfriend, but simply that. I could admit the thought of him coming around regularly gave me a little flutter of excitement. It was his energy, his zest and passion, that I found myself drawn to,platonically, of course.
As I lay in bed, I thought of the barn. Of how, even in such a brief time, his vision seemed to spark new life into it.The barn. Why had I never done anything with it? I had memories of going out to the barn and having to muck out the hay when I was a young teen.Mypapa, Papa Tom, had kept a few goats back then. The goats would eat the weeds around the property, and he used their milk for natural products like soaps and skin care. As he grew older, and the costs and upkeep of having animals had gotten more challenging, Tom decided to put his focus on just the bees instead.
It had been a difficult decision for him as he tried to maintain the farm that had been in his family for generations. I did everything I could when I was younger to help him, but he'd had to make choices that would allow him to keep it manageable, not just for him, but for the farm’s future as well.
Tom was the last of his family, the last of the McNeely farmers. They were once one of the founding families of the area and had bought up a large plot of land. As people migrated toward the Inland Empire, looking for cheaper homes and more space than the big cities offered, farmland became housing developments, and the region saw a big change.McNeely Honeyheld on, and was still a local namesake, one that I carried on, despite not being an official McNeely. Tom's siblings hadn't wanted anything to do with the apiaries, and had traded the farm lifefor city life until they passed, and Tom never had children of his own.
When he grew too old to keep up with the demands of the farm, he offered it to me. The farm, the name, the business.Everything. It had been an honor to carry on the McNeely business, but it was a heavy burden, too. With all the trust he put in me, I didn't want to let him down. Tom was more of a father to me than my own had been.
Looking for work and an escape as a young teen, I saw an ad for a seasonal farmhand. Hard work didn’t scare me as much as being at home did. What I didn’t anticipate was how life-breathing it had been to feel seen. Not just seen but appreciated. It was like a bee rescued from drowning in a pool. Being on the farm, I slowly came alive again, catching my breath, and feeling my wings twitch until I could shake off the water weighing them down, and take to the air again. If I had stayed with my parents, I would have drowned, but with the family and home I’d found here, I flew. I never expected to have anything of my own, but after Tom had given me this opportunity, one that helped me thrive, I couldn't imagine being or doing anything else.
Papa Tom had lived his life with the idea of sharing what he had, and lived it authentically. Part of my promise to him when he signed over the farm was to keep my doors open to those who need it. I strived to follow his example and my life was richer for it. My inheritance from Tom included immeasurable wealth. Wealth that only grew when it was shared.
Now, with Jasper, I felt a surge of joy and rightness. I knew Tom would approve of lending out the barn. In fact, if he had been around, he probably would have done the same. The barn was going to come alive again, just like I had so many years ago. The smile returned to my face as I thought of Jasper's excitement, and I fell asleep with the image of him in my mind.
In the morning, I woke early, as I’d grown accustomed to. Depending on the time of year and the weather, I wouldn’t need to get out to the apiaries until later in the morning. It was easier once most of the worker bees took off for the day so I had less to contend with when I harvested the honey. During the summer, early mornings were a must, before the heat of the day got to be too bad and the bees retreated to their hives. A hot bee was an agitated bee and nobody needed that. While there might be fluctuation with the bees schedules, it was easier for me to get up at the same time year-round.
There was always plenty of other stuff to do before it was time to check the boxes. This morning, I was working with Nicky in the garage. She had really taken a liking to making beeswax candles. We started by collecting the scraps of wax when we harvested honey. The wax was then melted down in a double boiler and strained through a cheesecloth to remove any debris and separate it from the honey.
Once we had the pure beeswax, it could be poured into molds for candles or set aside for later use in lotions, lipbalms, shampoos, or more. It had a lot of benefits for skin care but also made for safe, organic candles. Beeswax had a natural earthy and slightly floral scent to it, which I happened to love, but we offered a variety of scents for our candles, too. They were always a big hit at Heartcraft.
Nicky was deep in concentration as she poured the wax. I ruffled the top of her blond hair as I passed by. “Just a little bit longer, kiddo. You have school today.”
She didn’t take her eyes off of her work, but she sighed heavily. “Do I have to go? I’m basically caught up on everything and I don’t have any tests.”
I smiled to myself. It would be so easy to say yes. She was a responsible kid, and I knew school was socially difficult for her at times, but I didn’t want to give the school a reason to get herparents involved. They weren’t on her side and would only make things more difficult for her.
I pulled a chair over to sit beside her. “You know the answer to that. It’s your senior year, you just need to stick it out a little while longer. Once you're eighteen, you can decide whether to continue in person, get your GED, or do independent study. But as long as you’re a minor, you have to keep going. There are rules about that.”
Nicky let out a huff. “I know. I know. It just sucks, though. My parents can kick me out of the house for being myself, but they are still the ones the school will call, liketheycare.”
“Itdoessuck. I'm sorry, sweetheart.” There wasn't anything I could say to make the situation better, but at least I could acknowledge her feelings and hope she continued to feel safe enough to express them.
