Rebecca and Simon had made themselves comfortable on the porch finishing their morning coffee. That look on the sweet old man’s face was seared into her brain. What could he be doing over there in the tall grass? She wondered.
The hot Kentucky sun was lapping at the tops of the trees like the ocean teasing the beach. It was going to be another gorgeous day.
They noticed a patrol car cruisin’ down the road and into their driveway. Deputy Bradley reminded Rebecca of Barney Fife. He was a skinny man that a good strong wind would blow away. He clamored out of the car as he put on his cowboy hat. A cowboy riding an iron horse. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling as he tugged at his pants and squared his shoulders, before swaggering, yes swaggering toward them. Barney Fife indeed. Bradley thought he was ten feet tall and bullet proof. Every time there was trouble in town he would say, “now I’m the law round here, let’s go or git.” Which seemed to be his favorite word. “Git.” And he always said it with a growl.
Rebecca had almost worked herself into a laugh before he reached the porch.
“Mornin’ folks.”
“Deputy,” Simon grinned, “coffee?” He raised his cup to Bradley.
“Na,” he rested one foot on the bottom step. “I just wanted to see if you two were home.”
“Yelp. We found everything in its place.” Rebecca smiled. “Thanks for keepin’ an eye on the place for us.”
“Good, good.” He paused clearing his throat, “my pleasure. Are you still havin’ Bible study at the end of the month?”
“Sure are,” Simon boomed. “Make sure to tell everyone so they’ll come.”
“Sure will,” he smiled before turning to leave. The Rice house caught his attention. That blessed old man. Bradley took off his hat before turning back around. “Mr. Rice has asked some of us if we’d help him fix his house.”
“Yeah, he’s been here this mornin’.” Rebecca smiled.
Bradley turned his hat in his hands. Rebecca thought that at any moment he was gonna start crying. There was more going on here than met the eye and he knew at least part of the story.
“Some of us thought we’d make a weekend out of it. Well from the looks of things, it might take us a week. Our wives said they’d do the inside while we work on the outside. Della said she’d supply the food.”
“Oh, just like an old timey barn raisin’ party.” Rebecca wiggled excitedly in her seat.
“Sure,” Bradley smiled. “As far as we know all the inside needs is painted and the like.”
“What fun?” Rebecca continued to wiggle.
It made Bradley kinda sick. She was happy and excited about this. Before he flew off the handle, which he was prone to do, he had to remind himself that only a few people in town knew the truth. And if he spilled the beans, not only would he loose his job but he ran the risk of loosing his best friend. So he finally choked, “good, good.” He returned his hat to his head. “See y’all Saturday with the chickens.”
The old man fell to his knees, his hat in his hands. Tears streamed down his haggard face. How could you live with someone 60 years and just forget about that person? The pain was fading. It may have been a function of him getting older. He was having the hardest time remembering what she looked like and it was killing him. Here was the love of his life and he couldn’t remember if her eyes were blue or gray.
You wouldn’t have known looking from the road that here in the back of the field was a clean well-maintained grave. A grave he had showered with as much love as an aging husband could give.
“I’m bringin’ her home Lily.” He sobbed, “I’m bringin’ her home.”
Rebecca and Simon locked glances with each other. Why in the world would someone his age want to move from town? They looked across the road at the old house. Time had taken its toll on the structure. All the paint had peeled off. Simon wouldn’t have been surprised if the roof didn’t leak. Rebecca knew something big was happening. Mr. Rice was a very independent private man. He never asked anyone for help. The wind swept across the valley. A blade of grass distracted her. It was then she finally noticed the grass came to the top of the window frames. She always thought it (the house) looked so lonely. She had a soft spot for empty buildings. The thought always crossed her mind, what if they could talk? What stories they could tell? Who had lived there? What part did it play in the history of the community? Poor empty little house.
Mr. Rice’s voice brought them back to the situation at hand. “I’ll pay you good for your time and buy all the stuff.”
“I’d be happy to help you sir.” Simon smiled. He would have done what needed to be done in order to help the old timer. It was Mr. Rice who told him that Rebecca needed help around her house in the first place. If it hadn’t been for his influence, Simon felt he never would have met the RIGHT woman. And met her he had.
“Thank you,” the old man put his hat back on and scuttled toward his truck.
Simon called after him, “sir would you like some coffee?”
The old man shook his head no before climbing back into his truck. “This Saturday, we are going to try to get it done.”
They watched as he backed out of their driveway, drove down the road apiece, and then pulled into his driveway. All they could see was the top of his truck in the tall grass.
“Did you see the look in his eyes?” Rebecca whispered.
“How could you miss it?”
“I wonder what that was about?” She shivered as they walked back up the steps. “You know those women that I have lunch with at Della’s, have never mentioned anything about this. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Mr. Rice seems to be a very private person and is respected for that. Maybe they don’t know.”
“Maybe, but it’s so hard for Widow Blake to keep a secret.”
“This may not concern us. Most of the stuff I hear you repeat is stuff that is of a concern to the community.” He offered.
They sat in their respective chairs. She snickered, “come on honey. How was our relationship a concern to the community?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “How was it not? You had lived here for years and had made friends in the community, Mr. Rice being one of them. I was a complete stranger from the opposite side of the US.”
“Point taken,” she sipped at her coffee.
“I’m sure we’ll find out in due time what all this hub-bub is about.”
Rebecca stood on her front porch inhaling deeply. The cool familiar morning air washed over her. It renewed and uplifted her spirits. She closed her eyes tighter as her body drank in the morning.
It was so good to be home. She loved her mother but there is no bed in the world like your own. Her smile broadened. The sound of two small clanks filled her ears but she paid them no mind. Then she felt Simon’s warm, strong arms wrap around her waist. His breath on the back of her neck caused her to giggle and squirm. There was something healing about this small town. It was able to heal her and look what she got as a bonus prize. She snuggled against him, Purring, “good morning.”
“It’s great to be home,” his voice vibrated through her soul. It still amazed her that they were married. Even now after two years. It didn’t matter how many times she looked at him; she still got weak in the knees.
“Well lookie here,” his voice had a surprised yet questioning tone to it.
She opened her eyes to see old man Rice’s beat up truck crunching up their driveway. At one point or another, everyone in town tried to get the old timer to get a new truck. He would always scoff at them. Rebecca smiled at the thought.
Simultaneously they both reached for their cups. She cradled the warm cup to her lips allowing the liquid to fill her mouth before gliding down her throat.
It took the old man a couple minutes to climb out of his truck. They watched him closely as he scuttled toward them.
Simon was ready to run just in case the elderly gentleman fell. “Mornin’ sir.” His voice sounded like low-lying thunder.
When the old man reached the bottom step, he spoke. “Mornin’.” He tipped his worn baseball style hat. Just like his truck, he would change his hat when and only when it completely fell apart. Even though he did wear a newer one to church.
Rebecca noticed there was something different about him. During the twelve years she’d lived in Sunshine Valley, she’d never been afraid to talk to him. But for some reason this morning he just seemed plain detached. She finally asked in a loud yet nice voice, “what brings you out this mornin’?”
They walked down the steps toward him. The look on his face confirmed her dread as it froze her heart.
“I know you’re a busy man.” He took off his hat.
Rebecca couldn’t help but notice how baby fine his pale gray hair looked. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch it in order to feel if it was as fine as it looked. She was even more amazed that there was still black in it. Mr. Rice had to be in his late 80’s. At least.
Poetry & More 