“You can just cancel
my order for this week, Jonathan Fowler.”
Bitsy stood before Jonathan, hands on hips. Her face was red. Her eyes were narrow.
Jonathan stood
there with four boxes of cherry pies in his arms. “Bitsy, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying to
cancel my order.”
Jonathan looked at
Howard, who shrugged.
“Are you in some
sort of trouble, Bitsy? I can help you along as best I can. You know I’d do that.”
“I’m not in
trouble. I’m just fine, but thank you
for asking.”
“Well, you can’t
cancel your order when it’s being delivered.”
“I just did,
didn’t I?”
“But…what am I
going to do with these pies and the chickens?
I’ve got eight dozen eggs in the truck waiting for me to bring them in
to you.”
“I got my eggs at
the IGA this morning.”
Jonathan set his pies on the breakfast
bar. “Why are you doing this, Bitsy?”
“I just found out
that you offered Ellie your farm. What
the hell are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that
Ellie needs a place to call home. I’m
thinking that Ellie loves the farm. I’m
thinking that it will give her certain guarantees.”
“Well I’m thinking that it will give you and
Annie certain guarantees: A guaranteed place to live. And
it’ll guarantee that Ellie won’t go to college.”
“Ellie can still
go to college.”
“And come back to
what? A two-bit farm in a dying
town? She’s languishing here.”
“She can’t go to
college on hope alone.”
“Howard will be
paying for her education.” Bitsy smiled
at Howard.
“Ellie told me he
stared her on a fund.”
“He more than
started it, Jonathan Fowler. The man
just cashed in five CDs and deposited sixty thousand dollars in her account.”
“He what?” Jonathan turned towards Howard. “How did you manage that, Howard?”
Howard’s face
reddened.
“I think he feels
some sort of…obligation to the child,” Bitsy says, “which is more than I can
say of you. You go through with giving
this farm to Ellie, you can kiss your orders from Bitsy’s Diner goodbye
forever.”
“I need you,
Bitsy. Without your orders, the
farm…” Jonathan shook his head. “You’ve put me in a bind here. If you stop ordering from me, I may as well sell
the farm.”
“I’m not stopping
you from doing that, Jonathan.”
“I’d say you’re
pushing me into it. Hell, I’d say you
want me to sell the farm.” Jonathan
frowned. “You’ve never been happy here,
Bitsy. Maybe this is just an excuse for
you to get out.”
“You know that’s
not true.”
“I don’t know
what’s true anymore, Bitsy. Seems the
whole town has gone crazy every since Wheezy died. Come on, Howard. We’ve got some chickens to freeze.” And Jonathan turned and headed out the front
door of Bitsy’s Diner, leaving the pies behind him.
“Annie will be
furious,” he said to Howard. And
Jonathan knew never to make Annie furious.
Ever.
Once before he’d
suffered Annie’s anger. And she’d left
him. She packed her bags and packed the
car and headed straight for her sister’s house in Indiana. Jonathan shook his head, remembering. Annie’d stayed away for four months. Not calling.
Not writing. Howard showed up
right about that time. And he and Howard
worked the farm together. Jonathan used
to joke that he and Howard were playing the bachelors. But Jonathan’s laugh always felt hollow. Annie’s absence had sucked the joy out of
Jonathan. The farmhouse seemed to sag on
its foundation. The windows seemed to
tilt. The barn needed a paint job and the
wagon needed mending. But Jonathan
couldn’t find it within himself to care.
Then, all of a
sudden, when she got wind—through Bitsy, Jonathan suspected—that there was to
be a baby born upon the premises, Annie showed up. She stood there on the porch, her bags beside
her. And Annie, his wife, his partner,
his lover…Annie rang the doorbell.
It had pained
Jonathan to open the door and see his wife standing there, as if she was unsure
whether she still belonged to the farm; unsure whether it still belonged to
her. Jonathan opened the screen door
wide. He let it slam behind him. He stood there before Annie. Because he was unsure whether they still
belonged to each other.
Annie lifted her
chin. “I’m sorry, Jonathan.”
Jonathan took
Annie in his arms and held her close, kissing the top of her head and weeping
tears of joy and sorrow. “Don’t ever
leave me again, Mrs. Fowler.”
She shook her
head. “I was lost.”
“I know.”
And they’d held on
to each other tightly, standing upon the porch.
And the night air fell cool and soft around them and their love was
gentle and kind; apologetic and new.
The next morning,
Annie was back in the kitchen, as if she’d never left.
She’d been there
ever since.
Labels: Fiction Medford