Iām searching for more of that uniform repetition, not less. Only in a different and more secluded place. I suppose I couldāve found a way to make it work back in Virginia, where I was living in mediocrity, but I chose a new path.
āI moved to Georgia.ā I blurt it out. Thereās no other way. It spills from my mouth in a slightly more elegant fashion than the burnt peach tart coming out of the oven.
āGeorgia? Why?ā I notice the genuine confusion in Russellās voice. A little sister can always tell, even after drifting apart from her sole sibling. I hear his silent thoughts percolating beneath the surface. That coffee ad replays in my mind. The slow drip of assumptions fills a cup Iād rather dump down the sink.
āIām not sure Iāve figured out why yet. It just felt as though itās what I was supposed to do.ā Who am I kidding? Talking in vague generalities doesnāt sound like me at all. I always have a plan regarding where Iām going and why Iām headed there.
āYouāve never been one to leave the safety of a boat and jump into muddy water.ā Russellās voice becomes softer with hints of worry nestled between his words. I know what heās referring to.
Weād sneak out onto the lake together, just him and me. With our mother drunk, she never knew we were gone. It was a fringe benefit that we were both far away from potential physical harm. Russell grabbed the fishing gear. I would clutch the safety vests, as if my life depended on it. The unknown terrified me. If I couldnāt see what was beneath the surface, I didnāt trust it. He would egg me on, tempting me to jump in the water after him. I remained in the boat with all three latches of that preserver connected and snug across my torso. As scared as I was to be out there, I suppose the fact that I went anyway says even more about the perceived danger inside our house.
Alluding to this is Russellās way of asking a question when he doesnāt know how to. He has only willingly entered one uncomfortable discussion in his life. I realize where heās trying to go with this conversation, talking in analogies, but I donāt make it easy for him. I stay silent, waiting for him to jump in the same pool of water with me.
āDoes this have anything to do withĀ .Ā .Ā .Ā ?ā He still canāt do it. Even as a grown adult.
āNo, it has nothing to do with her.ā Am I lying to myself? Iām not sure. Did our mother influence my decision? Maybe. Is she the sole reason I did it? Probably not. I know thereās hesitancy in my voice, and Iām certain Russell detects it. The silence between us stretches out like a piece of taffy on a hot summer day. The sugary thread holding it together becomes weaker with each passing moment. Is he about to do it? For real? Will he apologize?
āDid Aunt Claire say yes?ā I hear the excited plea from my teenage niece, Lizzie, in the background.
āDid I say yes to what?ā Understanding my brother has yet to change, I let my focus turn toward curiosity.
āThis actually works out even better now.ā As a single father after a messy divorce, Russell lives with Lizzie in Chattanooga. I hear her chattering nonstop about going to the beach and visiting the boardwalk. And paintingācan she bring her supplies too?
āYouāre planning a visit?ā Thereās nothing to warrant it, but hope rises along with an uptick in my tone. While I cherish my time alone, family is still a higher priority. Especially since the two of them are all I have left.
āSort of.ā I hear guilt in his voice, which means he notices the hopefulness in mine and heās not coming. āIt would only be Lizzie.ā I look down and find myself unwound from the phone cord, and so many other things. Thereās that dangerous tightrope of hope. I lean against the refrigerator door, thankful for its help in keeping me from falling to the floor.
He only calls when he needs something. Or on those holidays where families are supposed to talk with each other. Itās the middle of summer, so I should have known which type of call this would be.
āIāve been presented an interesting opportunity.ā He pauses, waiting to see if I will allow him to continue.
āYes?ā
āYou know my landscape business has always been a mom-and-pop deal? Residential service only? Well, I happened across an influential client who passed my name to a corporate contact. They think my work could improve worker morale and inspire creativity. Imagine that, right?ā
Imagine that. A man does nothing to boost the spirits of his own sister, but heās willing and capable of doing so for a stranger. An involuntary and exasperated huff escapes my lungs.
āClaire, itās tough being a single dad, trying to make ends meet and still give Lizzie the attention she deserves. I fought so hard for her.ā Thereās guilt dripping between his words. I remember it as the one occasion he dealt with confrontation head-on. Fighting for sole custody of his daughter. I had never seen him so tenacious and driven before. I canāt abandon family, no matter how distant weāve become as brother and sister. Besides, itās been forever since Iāve spent quality time with my niece.
āHow long?ā
āOne week, two at most. Theyāre looking for a comprehensive proposal. For an overhaul of their fifty-acre corporate headquarters.ā
Thereās nothing for a teenager to do in Pigeon Grove, and I worry Lizzie will be bored. Itāll push me way outside my comfort zone, forcing me to explore the community Iāve avoided becoming a part of. āSure, Russell. Tell Lizzie I look forward to seeing her.ā
āReally? Oh, Claire, thank you so much.ā The relief in his voice is palpable. Itās nice to be needed. āI donāt know what I would have done if youād said no. Youāre the last person I could think of who might help.ā I wish he had stopped after the simple heartfelt offering of thanks.
After hanging up the phone, I clean up the mess in my kitchen. A new melody and set of lyrics accompany me through the process.
The closer you get, the further I fall. Iāll be over the edge now in no time at all.
I peek outside again. In both directions, thereās nothing but an empty sidewalk. A periodic crack interrupts the consistency of the smooth expanse. After shutting the window, I draw the curtains closed.
When I grab my failed attempt at a peach tart from the counter, the crust crumbles in my hands. I tip it into the trash can, promising myself Iāll try again tomorrow. With the right ingredients and focus, I might keep from scorching something in my life.
7
The overnight storm was relentless. It pounded on the roof all night, thunderous claps mixing with similar thoughts in my mind. The sound of rain failed to soothe me the way it did on my first morning in Pigeon Grove. Wind howled, and the house creaked, as if pleading for mercy. My physical and emotional joints do the same as dawn greets me. With every shared moment here, I realize this structure has a lot in common with me.
With sleepy eyes and a coffeepot beneath the running faucet, I pull open the curtains. Sunlight fills the room. Weather can change so quickly. It brings something resembling a smile to my face despite the weight of my thoughts.
Heaviness, or the lack of it, arrives in a more pragmatic and immediate way. When I look down at the glass container meant to provide me with a morning caffeine boost, itās less than half full. Thereās a small stream of water meandering through the metal fixture and into the basin. It reminds me of a slithering snake attempting to go unnoticed. The meager pressure coming from the spigot spoils its attempt to elude me. It would normally be a good sign to see no puddles when I peek under the sink, but not this time. It means the source of my problem is on the outside.
Weāre in sync once again. This structure has surrendered some of its gusto, just like I have. My bubbling enthusiasm upon arriving here has been on a steady decline. My pattern of two steps forward and one back has flip-flopped over the past couple weeks. The serendipitous discovery of this house was a euphoric moment for me. Itās not lost on me how sad it is that I feel more connected to a human habitat than I do any other person in my life. But I have developed a camaraderie with Hank and Lydia. Thatās something I was neither wanting nor expecting. Another small step in a positive direction, I suppose.
Still, my conversation with Russell? And the unexplained appearance of that man on the sidewalk? Itās all so confusing. My emotions are being tugged every which way, and I canāt wrap my head around everything. I moved here to simplify things, not complicate them. So far, small-town life is turning out to be more chaotic and complex than my suburban existence.
I WANDER DOWN MAIN Street like a child looking for her lost puppy dog. Itās only as I arrive at the door to Hank and Lydiaās produce shop that I realize my intended destination. Over the past several weeks, Iāve come here to short-circuit the daily conversations in front of my house. A way to protect and preserve my private time on the porch. Alone. Now, I seek their companionship, not fruit I donāt need.
āGood morning to you, Claire. What can I get for you today, the usual?ā Hank grins, his tone casual, so different from the detail-oriented person who passes me on the sidewalk each day.
āSix peaches, one orange, and all the lemons you have, please.ā I keep hoping heāll inundate me with more yellow fruit than Iām able to carry, but it never works out that way. He always seems in short supply. The silence between us, while awkward to me, doesnāt seem to bother Hank a bit. Heās humming to a song on the radio. Something about rainfall in Georgia. I watch him gather only the best selection from his stock for me. Itās a personal touch I appreciate.
He chuckles midway through the chorus. āSpeaking of rain, someone should remind Mother Nature to turn off her faucet in the sky. Weāve gotten more wet stuff than we can handle over the past week.ā
Comments about water and faucets trigger something. Is it a desire for information or a need for connection? In this strange aquatic parlance, Iām the beaver building a dam that holds the floodgates closed. Why does it take so much courage to initiate a simple conversation? I already know the answer. Words have always held such power for me. Sometimes you donāt realize how influential they can be until theyāre out there. At that point, itās too late. They canāt be taken back.
āSo, I have a problem with my plumbing. Is there someone in town who might help?ā I find it harder to say than I imagined it could be.
āYouāre looking at him. Water pressure, right? Iāll fix that up for you in no time. Meant to do it myself but never got around to it. We should be able to pick up some couplers and a pipe wrench at Turnerās Hardware.ā Suddenly, Hank is talkative and anxious. Those pesky words come back to haunt me. Why am I asking for help? Iām still not ready to invite someone into the sanctity of my home.
Thereās that word again. Home. Itās becoming a more frequent occurrence in my daily vocabulary. āThatās okay. I know youāre busy, andĀ .Ā .Ā . On second thought, I might try to tackle it myself.ā The humming stops, and his gaze dips toward the ground. He grabs a peach from atop his carefully constructed fruit pyramid.
What did I say? Do people take that unkindly to a refusal of help? I donāt understand the proper etiquette of this new lifestyle yet. āWhereās Lydia?ā
āAt the farm, checking on some crops after that storm last night.ā Thereās a slight upturn in his mood at the mention of her name. āItās her happy place sinceĀ .Ā .Ā .ā His head droops back down again. Since what? He seems somehow uneasy on those strolls with his wife along my stretch of sidewalk. But I can tell he enjoys them too.
āYou like those afternoon walks with her, donāt you?ā
A sheepish grin spreads across his face. āAs much for the company as where it takes me. Even if there is some sadness to it.ā
Thereās a natural emotional connection with my newest friend. My tone becomes soft and empathetic. āHow so?ā
His hands clutch the sides of my paper bag filled with fruit, creases forming from his strong grip. Hankās lost in a contemplative state before he releases his hold and places a final lemon in my collection. āThe wet weatherĀ .Ā .Ā . it dampens my mood sometimes.ā
āMe too.ā Itās true, it does, but I know thereās something more to his comment. āYou remember that thing they say about dancing in the rain and all, right?ā I smile at him.