On 4/19 (On 4/19 and Beyond 4/20) (18 page)

Louise was in the kitchen checking on her roast. She’d put it in the crockpot earlier and was just about to head out to the garden to get a few
tomatoes to slice for dinner. When Chelsea joined her in the kitchen, she asked if she’d like to go with her.

Stepping out onto the back porch, Chelsea saw a beautiful vegetable garden just beyond a small wooden fence. She took a basket from the porch and followed along, anxious to help. When she was home last was when her grandfather died. It was wintertime, so there was no garden. The year before, she never made it home during spring or summer. Missing home was why she was so enamored with the farmer’s market. She went often and only purchased one or two things while there. That way, she would have a reason to go back within a day or two. Typically, she made large meals and portioned it out for freezing, so she went through enough produce to make her a regular at the market.

“I thought we could get a few tomatoes.” Louise glanced at Chelsea as they walked, not fully recovered from the shock of how young she was. Not as if she’d ever seen any of the women John dated, but somehow, it seemed unlike him to date a girl so young. He’d been away from home so many years, what did she know? Maybe he’d had a string of child-girlfriends in the years since Tracy died. As difficult as that time was on him, he may have been looking for anything that would ease the pain and help him forget. A girl as pretty as Chelsea could sure do the trick.

Noticing several ripe squash on the vine, Chelsea asked, “Want me to get those squash for you? I will fry them up if you like fried squash.”

“I love it, but I’m not supposed to have it.”

“Aw, one or two pieces won’t hurt. All things in moderation, right?”

Louise watched as Chelsea kicked her sandals off and stepped into the dirt barefooted. “You might want to leave your shoes on.” Not that rubber shoes were much better.

“I’ve picked more barefooted that I ever did wearing shoes.” From that point, Chelsea was lost in the garden. She picked much more than tomatoes and squash. Exploring the meticulous garden, she found green beans and okra. To her, that day, even okra sounded good if it was fresh out of the garden.

Louise stood near the edge of the garden with her arms folded and watched as Chelsea filled her basket. Without a doubt, the girl had worked
a garden before. Twice she saw Chelsea pull weeds and toss them aside. On a couple of occasions, she stopped and looked up at her. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she’d call out, “Want me to get this?”
Genuine
, that was the word that came to mind watching her. She was not portraying herself to be anything that she wasn’t; which took her back to Chelsea’s comment about not believing in sharing a room when they weren’t married. With a man John’s age, Louise found it difficult to believe they were not sleeping together. As much as she’d love to believe John had higher moral standards than that, she didn’t think he did anymore.

When John came to stand beside her, she asked, “Where did you get this girlfriend of yours?”

“She’s an intern at work.” John hesitated. “But I was kind of seeing her before that.” He tried to use the intern ruse as he had suggested Chelsea do with her parents to keep from explaining the real story, but found he couldn’t even tell a half-truth to his mama. “I’m helping her out with her last year of school, and she keeps me company,” he added as a means to settle his guilty conscience.

Louise considered her son’s words. Didn’t sound much like a girlfriend, more like a… Intentionally, she let that train of thought go. “Don’t hurt her, John.”

He was quiet for a moment. Finally, he asked, “Why do you say that?”

“I see the way she looks at you, and I know how you are.”

Before he could respond to his mother’s warning, Chelsea came toward them with her basket full. There was a rare glow about her, one he’d never seen before. She nearly sparkled. Chuckling to himself, he wasn’t so sure a person could actually sparkle, but Chelsea’s face was brighter than he had yet to see it, and her cheeks had a dusting of pink from the sunshine.

Taking the basket from her, he waited while she slipped her dirty feet back into her flip flops. Walking back to the house together, he listened as she told his mother all the things she wanted to cook. His mother confessed that she cooked day in and day out, so a break would be welcomed. Her statement caused John concern. It was hard to conceive of his mother actually allowing a guest to cook, or to lift a finger in her house for that matter. The years were finally catching up to her and for
the first time, he could see it slowing her down. He could tell her hip was really bothering her. Being so far away was becoming a greater issue, just as he knew it would as they got older.

Back in the house, Chelsea washed the tomatoes and squash and basically took over the kitchen. Immediately, her thoughts returned to the conversation when she and John shucked corn at her place. For a sweet moment, she tried to imagine him as a little boy, standing on a stool, trying to get the silks off an ear of corn. Trying to picture Louise as a young mother was nearly as sweet. Without doing so intentionally, it crossed her mind how much she’d like to have a little boy of her own, one who would stand beside her in the kitchen someday. Her heart ached at such a thought, especially considering John’s recent reminder that he never intended to marry again. If she ever did have a son, John wouldn’t likely be the father. That thought momentarily robbed her of her joy.

John was in and out, but for the most part he left the women to talk and get to know one another. It was good for his mom to have another woman in the house. For a while, he sat with his father and watched a game show. His dad had always been partial to them. He could guess nearly every price on one of the shows. More than once John had offered to get them tickets to the show if they would come to L.A. Only once had his parents traveled that far and that was for Tracy’s funeral. That week went by in such a blur; John could hardly recall any of it. Of course under the circumstances he couldn’t take his parents out to see much of the city. Just as they did at home, his mother cooked and his father watched TV, but that was the life they were comfortable with.

Since his dad’s heart attack, he’d done little around the ranch. Most of his cattle were moved to John’s ranch, and that seemed to be fine with his dad, which was surprising for John considering how much ranching used to mean to him. He was different as an older man though. Things that used to drive him no longer seemed quite as important. As long as his dad was with his mom, that was all it took for him to be content.

Louise sat at the table while Chelsea moved about. The girl talked non-stop, which she liked tremendously. Claude was never much of a talker, so it was nice to hear a voice other than her own. As she cooked,
Chelsea told her more in that half hour than John told her on the phone in the past year. She learned that he went to church to watch Chelsea sing. If she stopped right there, that would’ve been enough. Louise knew John never went to church other than when he was home visiting them. Most often he made his visits during the week so he wouldn’t have to.

“I think I’ll ask to sing more often. He may come for that.”

“You’re right.” John had walked into the kitchen just in time to hear Chelsea’s comment. Indeed, she was right. He’d go every Sunday to hear her sing. What she didn’t know was that while they were away, he’d made arrangements for a piano to be delivered. Her living room was large enough to accommodate one. While she may have to rearrange a little, he was confident she’d think it worth the effort.

Chelsea grinned at him. Turning her attention back to her squash, she began scooping them onto a platter lined with paper towels. “I’m manipulating for Jesus. I think He’s okay with that.”

“Most likely.” Walking over to where she stood, he switched the stove off and took the platter. Everything else was on the table and while his mother went to get his dad, John took that opportunity alone to say, “I’ll go every Sunday whether you sing or not. If that’s what you want.” Leaning in, he brushed her cheek with his lips. “I’d do anything you asked of me. I think you know that.”

Smiling up at him, she reached out and touched his cheek, dragging her fingertips along his jawline. She leaned in and rested her head on his chest, admitting, “I’d really like it if you did.” It was the most tender moment she could recall having with him. At his parents, away from L.A., she got a sense she was finally meeting the real John Keller, a man not quite so driven or hardened by the world. When he said that he’d do anything she asked of him, she wanted to believe that if she asked him, he’d stay with her once April came.

His parents were coming into the room so they quickly stepped apart. John, laughing said, “You caught us, I guess.”

Claude slapped John on the back, “Don’t mind us. I might just hug-up on your mama a little later.”

“What’s wrong with right now?” Louise asked.

John rolled his eyes and groaned as if the thought of his parents hugging sickened him.

Her moment with John had her a bit shaken still, but easily enough, Chelsea joined in the laughter as Claude grabbed Louise in a bear hug right there in the kitchen.

Trying his best to ignore them, John went over to the table, saying, “Take all the time you want, it’ll give me a head start on the food.” Winking at Chelsea, he wondered if she thought about their first “date” and the cheesecake.

When the commotion died down, Claude sat at one end of the table, across from John. Louise sat across from her. As they all joined hands, Chelsea said, “This is just how my family does it.” Feeling a sense of belonging, her eyes began to sting as if she might cry. It felt right to be with them. It felt right being with John. How could something that felt so real have an expiration date?

After the dinner dishes were done, they all sat and looked at old family photos, and just as John had warned her she might, his mother told story after story of what a spirited boy he was. It seemed “spirited” was a kind way of saying he was a hard one to raise.

“Then at about ten, he began to change. I don’t know what caused it, but from there on out he was as easy a child to raise as I’ve ever seen.”

As much as John assured his mother that Chelsea didn’t want to hear any more stories or see any more photos, Chelsea encouraged Louise, telling her she would look as long as she wanted. The evening was one of the best she had had since knowing John. She’d take a quiet night with his family over stuffy business engagements any day. With his parents, he was gentle and protective over them. The tender way in which he spoke to his mother caused Chelsea to love him even more. There was a saying,
see how a man treats his mama, and you know how he’ll treat his wife
. As soon as the saying traveled through her mind, Chelsea’s heart fell, heavy with sadness. That would never be her. It was so easy for the reminder of their end to ruin the beginning.

John noticed how Chelsea sighed and for the briefest moment blinked, keeping her eyes closed tightly for a second or two. Immediately, a shift in her mood occurred. For a time, he felt as if all the air had been
sucked out of the room. She was clearly hurting. Hoping to divert her attention away from whatever caused it, he asked, “Would you like to sit out on the porch? I’m sure the old folks will be going to bed soon.”

She stared at him blankly for just a second before his words actually sunk in. Smiling softly, glad for anything that would take her mind off the end, she said, “Sure.”

Once his parents had gone to bed, John and Chelsea stepped out onto the porch. Holding her by the hand, he led her to the swing and they both sat. For a few minutes they swung in silence. At first he was tempted to ask her what had caused her to look so sad, but then it came to him. Caught up in the moment, she was suddenly struck with the un-reality of their relationship. There was no need to ask. The same thing happened to him just a moment before. Watching her with his parents, it was obvious they more than approved. His mother immediately loved Chelsea. How could she not? For a moment, watching them together, it was real for him too, but then the thought of the end crept in and stole his happiness. There’d be so many questions when they were no longer together. It was then his mother’s warning not to hurt Chelsea echoed in his head. Considering that, maybe she would not be so surprised when they were over after all.

Chelsea tried hard to push beyond the sadness of her earlier realization. Being there with John was what she wanted most; being in a real relationship with him was something she dared not hope for just a few weeks before. She
was
there and they
were
real. Grasping that place of happiness, refocusing her mind on the present and not the future, she glanced over at John.

His silence was not all that surprising to her, and she didn’t have to wonder why. Something happened to them both while they were all laughing and talking. She wondered if what he felt was anything like she did, like a fraud. Knowing full well that she wasn’t his real girlfriend, someone he’d ever consider marrying, made her feel sorry for John’s mom. Several comments she made indicated she hoped they’d end up together, little things about Chelsea knowing who was who in the photos in case John didn’t. While it was premature on Louise’s part, it was more than obvious that was her line of thinking. Actually, it was quite sweet and endearing and terribly painful.

First to break the long silence, she told him, “This has been the best night I’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad you came with me. I usually come more often, but I’ve had a slight distraction in my life here lately.” He smiled rather weakly.

The way he looked at her assured her he was just as conflicted by the night with his parents as she was. They had stopped swinging, and he leaned up and rested his elbows on his knees. Placing her hand on his back, she rubbed softly, asking, “Will you bring me again?”

“Of course, as often as you’d like.” John leaned back and turned sideways in order to face her. “Are you okay?” Reaching out, he rubbed her silky hair between his fingers.