Four & A Half Hours...

 

... is not enough sleep.  I woke up this morning to pee at 4:30 and couldn't go back to sleep.  I had a trainer session, weeded and planted a bit, and went to the Botanical Garden concert with HZ, JZ, DS, DIL1, LC, and OJ.  I'm beat.  I'm going to fong a picture or two on here, yoink a piece of Horizon out of the Word file, and go to bed.

Here's one of the onion sets I planted doing a bang-up job of turning into a real onion.



 




I picked a couple Sweet 100 cherry tomatoes to have alongside my chicken on toast for lunch.  Yum.


08 August--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

The blacksmith fascinated Abel.  He stood staring as the artisan swung his hammer, crashing into the heated metal, causing sparks to fly in every direction.  “I wonder how hot that forge has to be to make the metal soft enough to work?” he said.

 A young man standing at the edge of the booth stepped forward and handed Abel a printed page.  “About 2200 degrees Fahrenheit,” the young man said. “My dad built the forge himself.”  Abel finally managed to pull himself away, but not until he’d wrung every bit of info out of the men.  I could see by the gleam in his eye that he was thinking of picking up a new hobby.

We got lunch from a booth called Outback Jack’s when we were about halfway through the fair. It looked like it was built out of driftwood and stuff washed up on a beach and the food was great--two-handed wraps of grilled meat and vegetables that we washed down with huge cups of lemonade.  On a stage in front of a department store a swing band played danceable music.  When they launched into String of Pearls, Abel grabbed my hand and pulled me into the open space in front of the bandstand.

“You can’t be serious,” I said, trying to pull away.

“Don’t you like dancing?” he said with a grin.  “I love it.”

Fortunately, he was a good leader because I hadn’t danced in years.  We must have looked like we knew what we were doing because people clapped when the song ended and I overheard a woman say to her husband as we passed, “See, Ralph?  They danced.”  Ralph only grunted and shot Abel a look that said traitor.

As we walked away from the food area, laughing and making sure we’d wiped all the drips from our forearms and I checked to see if I’d gotten any on my shirt, Abel bumped into a woman.  She whirled around as if he’d tried to pick her pocket.  She looked up and said, “You’ve got some nerve, Abel Baker, running into me to make certain I’d see you with your new tootsie.”

It was Prudence Christian, my son Sam’s mother-in-law.

Abel’s jaw dropped and he said, “Prudence, what…”  But that was as far as he got.  She drew a breath and let him have it.

“It’s bad enough I have to see the two of you make a spectacle in church on Sundays but now you follow me ten miles to the art fair to rub my nose in your sordid affair.  And then you dance with her in front of God and everyone right in the middle of the place.  Everyone was staring.”  With each word her face got redder and she lifted her hand to shake a finger in Abel’s face.  Passers-by gave her a wide berth and I saw heads turn our way all up and down the aisle.  “Don’t think you can fool anyone with your good manners, holding the door for her, taking her out to dinner so everyone can see the two of you together.  Everyone in town is talking about how you’re always over there, supposedly helping her with her garden, but I know the truth and so does everyone in Kingman.”

As Mrs. Christian raved, Abel’s hand dropped from my waist and he stood tall and straight.  “Now you listen to me, Prudence,” he said, not raising his voice when she took a breath, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.  Gail and I are dating.  What we do on our dates is no one’s business but ours.  Keep your nasty, unfounded accusations to yourself.”

Her body was rigid with emotion, at his words her face turned from red to white.  She folded her arms over her chest and looked even angrier.  “I’m so glad,” she hissed, “that I made you stop calling me.”

His hand moved back around my waist.  “Excuse us, Prudence. Come on, Gail.”  As we stepped past her, people turned away and the little bubble of shocked silence that had surrounded us dissolved.  Abel’s pace quickened, rushing us past the remaining booths in the aisle.  It wasn’t until we’d turned a corner and were halfway down the next block that I felt the tension leave him.  “I’m so sorry, Gail.  If I’d known Prudence would be here, I’d have kept an eye out for her.”

I took his arm and steered him to an iron bench surrounding a tree.  I sat him down in the shade and bought a cup of lemonade from a nearby vendor.  “Now, drink this and then tell me what’s her problem.”

            He took the cup from me, pulled off the top, and drank it in one gulp.  “Thanks.”  He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his thighs, and proceeded to demolish the paper cup.  “After Marcella died, I guess I went a little nuts.  I was so lonely that I was chasing every single woman over 40 in the county.”

I could feel a smile grow on my lips.  “I think I might have heard something like that years ago.”

He peeked at me.  “I’m sure you did.  Those cats at Mavis’ are vicious.”

“Not vicious, exactly, just bored I think.  Their lives are pretty tame and repetitive.  There aren’t a lot of adventurous people in Kingman, especially our age, so anyone living outside the norm is bound to be the topic of gossip.  And you did seem to go a little nuts.  I remember.”

“Yeah, well, eventually I got around to calling Prudence.  We met for coffee at a place here in Simpson and within five minutes I knew I wouldn’t be calling her again.  That is one unhappy woman.”

I reached over and took the shredded cup out of his hands and tossed it into a nearby bin.  Then I lifted his chin so I could look him in the eyes.  “I’ve known how unhappy Prudence Christian is for years.  Remember, her daughter Merry is married to my Sam.”  I put my arms around him.  “It’s okay, Abel.”

He hugged me back.  Over his shoulder I could see Prudence Christian’s lilac polyester clad form walking away from the fair toward the parking ramp.  “Come on,” I said, patting his back.  “You promised we’d look at every booth and we’re not nearly done.”

He pulled away to look me in the eye.  “Are you sure you want to stay?”

“I’m sure.  We can’t let one small-minded crazy woman ruin our day.  Besides, you promised.”

He got up and held out his hand to me.  “Okay, let’s go.”

The rest of our stay was uneventful.  It took a while for us to recapture the fun we’d started the day with, but by the time we’d seen every booth, bought a few small things, and sampled every kind of food and music at the fair, we had reclaimed the pleasure of the day and banished Prudence’s outburst.

We decided to stay for the fireworks.  We walked back across the river to stow our purchases in the truck, grab our jackets and a blanket, and found a perfect spot on the riverbank to watch the display while sipping mulled cider we bought from a stand.

It was late when we got back to my place.  “Thanks for a wonderful day, Abel.  I had a great time.”

“Me, too.  You’re not upset by Prudence’s outburst?”

“Not at all.”  I leaned over and kissed him.

He kissed me back.  “Need some help carrying your things?”

I got out of the truck.  “No, thanks, I can get them.  Thanks again for a fun day.  Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Gail.  See you in church.”

I stood in the moonlight of the warm summer night watching him drive away until his taillights disappeared around a curve.  I danced up the walk and into the house to the music of the cicadas.

And that's it.  Nighty-night.
--Barbara