“Oh, ho, ho! What a lovely story. I still catch myself reliving that day. It still makes me shudder.” The old woman took my clean ear of corn and added it to a massive wicker basket already partially filled.
“Shudder from excitement?”
“Oh heavens, no, girl, Wilbur was a monstrous little tyke. I think back to my time in primary school, before he showed up, and how peaceful my life was.” She gave a dramatic sigh and pretended to let herself drift into thought. “He was the new kid, parents moved to town after they bought their family farm—this farm—from his uncle’s estate when he passed away. He wasn’t taking too kindly to the change in scenery for a young boy and lashed out.”
A look crossed her face that clearly said she remembered back to another time, but I couldn’t quite determine if it was a fond memory or not.
“He was the class clown. Teachers hated him, and he picked on girls and boys alike, but for whatever reason, it felt like he had his sights aimed right at me.”
Despite her knuckles being knobbed with age, she shucked a corn cob in a single flick of her wrist using a pair of fire tongs. It gave a crisp snap, and the husk and hair flew into the bin in a single pile. She waved the cob around to make her point.
“One afternoon on the bus ride home from school, that little demon boy hopped into the seat behind me and smashed a freshly chewed piece of gum right onto the top of my head. My mother was irate. She had to cut the clump of hair, and I was left with a little sprig of alfalfa for months before it grew out.”
“So how did you two come to be such a wonderful couple if he was such a hideous little kid?” I grimaced, trying to tear a husk away, a kernel popped, splashing me with sweet and sticky corn juice that I wiped off with the back of my hands. The dangers of farming, I supposed.
“Well, that very next day, I trudged myself into school with my little bald spot and my red rubber boots and found him on the playground outside in the rain before classes started. He was by himself since no one bothered with him. Before he could even say anything nasty to me, I shoved him with all my might and the little,” she gave a naughty smile, leaning in to make sure no one heard her while she checked for eavesdroppers, “...bastard fell right into a puddle, straight onto his butt.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Mrs. Frey was always so sweet spoken. Swearing for her was not characteristic, but it gave her all the more charm.
“From that very moment, he behaved himself. Sure, he got into trouble here and there like young men do but never to me. We have been best friends ever since.”
“Wow, that is a story,” I admitted. I hadn’t pegged the old woman for such a bruiser in her youth. “And you have been a couple since childhood?”
“You betchya, things were different then. We didn’t have your dating apps and all that nonsense. When you found your person, you knew who they were. I knew Wilbur was my ‘meant to be’ that day on the playground when he got up, soaked as a sack of potatoes, his head hanging like a beaten dog, and he apologized for his behavior. He admitted he was acting out toward me because he thought I was cute. Can you imagine, old Mrs. Frey cute?” She laughed heartily, her chin rising to look at the ceiling as she enjoyed her laughter.
I liked it, too. It was warm and comforting and contagious.
I enjoyed the rest of the afternoon with Mrs. Frey and helped around the kitchen to clean up before taking dishes out to the barn. By the time the sun was setting, and we were putting on the string lights for ambiance, the place had really come together. Huge sweeping fans installed in the ceiling kept the air moving, so it stayed cool and comfortable, and the place was decorated beautifully. Blue gingham covered every surface available. Vanilla candles scented the air ever so subtly over the natural summer smells of fresh hay and warm breezes.
Mr. Frey was battling with a radio they had set up in the corner tuned to some old country music station, but it gave him a bit of trouble. It frizzled and sounded staticky every once in a while, but I thought that gave it a bit of old-school charm. It was comforting. I spotted Anna working on a few final touches along one of the walls.
“Need a hand?”
“Ugh, don’t you just show up in the knick of time?” Anna grunted as she attempted to push a few boxes being used as decorations over a bit more, so they didn’t block a window.
I couldn’t help giggling at her, and we both bent slightly, attempting to push the stack of boxes. Grunting and groaning, neither of our efforts was very successful.
“Yikes, what’s in these, rocks?” I puffed and put my hands on my hips.
She pretended to wipe sweat from her brow. “Well, no.” Anna leaned against the haphazardly stacked boxes. “Bricks?”
“What? Why bricks?”
“They help to keep the stack more steady—less risk of falling over from a bump.”
Anna attempted to stretch out her sore back a bit, but in doing so, knocked one of the boxes just beyond its threshold of “steady.” The top-heavy stack started to lean, and before it had a chance to overturn directly on my ever-so-clumsy friend, I reached up and held it off of her.
“Anna, move, watch out!” I cried, barely stopping the rough wooden box from toppling, but I was only just able to lock my elbows enough once the rest of the bricks flopped to the lower side of the box. I gritted my teeth in the struggle. The radio was too loud, so it seemed as if no one heard our commotion. Anna dove out of the way and was now on the floor, scooting to try to get her feet under her to help me.
Before Anna had a chance to regain herself, the box of bricks instantly felt lighter in my hands. I turned to just be able to see over my shoulder as I felt a warm presence directly behind me. There stood Andre in a white T-shirt and royal-blue jeans, hovering over me, his massive arms were straining at the hems. I could practically hear the threads of the fabric crying out for help. I could only stare up at his perfectly chiseled face as he smiled down at me. Where had he come from?
I had thought about going early to the party, but my New Yorker “fashionably late” sensibility was hard to shake. What if I got there too soon and I had to sit around like a dork? But what if going late seemed haphazard and rude? I huffed and puffed and paced in the tiny area before I left my room, deciding to leave and enjoy the walk over. The sunset was nice, after all. It looked like someone had melted one of my gold watches and threw the metal across the sky.
I passed through the rose gardens that I had helped tend that day and felt a sense of satisfaction at knowing I had assisted in creating that beauty. The plants admittedly did look well-groomed, and as I enjoyed them, I also felt a sense of pride. Maybe that was what Greg was talking about when he said it helped to recenter him. I couldn’t quite understand. Not just yet. However, as I approached the barn, my thoughts were interrupted. I saw the two girls—Lillian and her friend, Anna—struggling with some poorly stacked crates.
Cicadas screamed their nighttime song as I walked over. My pace quickened like lightning to a sprint when I saw Lilly lunge to save her friend and keep the boxes up after Anna had managed to knock them over. My white sneakers beat the dusty golden soil, and before the boxes had a chance to fall or her arms gave out from the weight, I was there. I could feel her back on my chest and stomach as I reached over her to grab what felt like a box filled with literal… rocks? Puzzled, I looked down at Lilly. One of her miraculously blue eyes shone out from the crook in her arm as she looked up at me in shock, and I couldn’t help but give her a warm smile.