by Jodi Thomas
“My dad’s garden. He says he don’t feel right if his hands ain’t in dirt. He’s raising baby plants.”
Connor’s eyes adjusted to the night. He saw tiny plants two, three inches high in the open crates. A greenhouse? But why here? Why so early? It wouldn’t be warm enough to grow anything in the fields for another month. It couldn’t be marijuana. Connor had read once that those plants needed intense heat and light to thrive. These buildings didn’t even have electricity.
A yellow light blinked in the distance. The Coleman lantern’s uneven glow made a wide circle around a table that appeared to be made of railroad ties and abandoned lumber.
The feeling he’d stepped into another world made Connor hesitate. How could this place exist in his town, on his property?
“Daddy, the mayor came to visit,” Jack said, as a man leaning over the table raised his head.
Connor doubted the man could see them in the shadows, but he saw the stranger clearly. His clothes marked him as an oil field worker. His hands, even in the dancing light, were calloused and caked with dirt.
Farmer’s hands, Connor thought as he took a step closer and saw the panic in the stranger’s eyes. The dad, in his late twenties, might have run if he hadn’t glanced down and seen Jack still holding on to Connor.
Connor offered his free hand. “I’m Connor Larady. Nice to meet you, Mr. Elliot.”
“Alton.” The man’s handshake was solid. When he pulled back, he rubbed his hand on his pant leg. “Sorry about the dirt.”
Connor smiled. “I just waded across the creek. I’m walking with mud on and in my boots. A little more dirt won’t matter.”
Alton Elliot relaxed a bit. “I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here?”
Connor moved closer to the table where Alton appeared to be planting slices of leaves into what looked like paper cups. “I’m fascinated,” he said, noticing the tools scattered over the table. If Alton Elliot had meant him any harm, he would be on the floor bleeding.
“I work the rigs over in Shelby County when there is work to find, but I got land a mile from here. Not much, but prime ground for a huge garden. Neither of the stores in town carry organic vegetables, just what’s shipped in. You know, one kind of tomato, two kinds of lettuce. Three kinds of apples if we’re lucky.”
“I’m the mayor, Mr. Elliot. I’ve heard this complaint before.”
Alton nodded. “I grew up on a farm that had ten types of tomatoes and a dozen kinds of lettuce, not to mention different varieties of potatoes and carrots and beets and...”
“I get your point.” Connor relaxed. Vegetables were great. He ate one now and then. But what did that have to do with this place and midnight? “Why are you here, Mr. Elliot? This part of town has been abandoned for many years.”
Alton folded his arms. “My folks sent me the seeds, the clippings, the bulbs. All I need to grow great produce. But I needed a place to get them started. I’ll triple my yield if I can start them in a greenhouse, and these old warehouses serve the purpose. The brick walls hold in the sun’s heat. No one uses the old buildings on this side of town, so I figured no one would care. They shelter my future garden, cut the growing time come spring.”
“Fascinating. Only you don’t own this property.”
Alton shrugged. “I figured no one did. It’s just a dead place. Folks say it has been for fifty or more years.”
He turned up the lamp and what Connor thought were a few crates of baby plants were really rows and rows.
“I got a little carried away. Every night I build a few more crates out of all the bad wood around here and plant a few more plants. I rigged barrels on the roof next door so I could drip rainwater down.”
Connor looked around. “This place wouldn’t pass any kind of city code.”
“I’m not living here. Just planting. Me and the plants will be out of here in a month or so.” Alton looked straight at Connor. “You going to evict me, Mayor? If I put the plants out now, they won’t be protected from the wind or the cold, but I figure you have the legal right.”
Alton was clearly a man who took any blow coming straight on. No excuses. No complaining.
“No. But you should know I do own this land. First thing tomorrow morning I’ll have a crew out here to make sure these buildings do pass inspection as greenhouses. I want to make sure one of these walls doesn’t tumble in on your nursery. I’ll add anything that you think might make this operation run smoother, like electricity, for one. It’ll be my job to make sure everything passes code, then I’ll rent it to you.”
“Fair enough.” Alton’s entire body seemed to relax and he met Connor’s stare for the first time. “I’ll have enough to feed the family and sell some. I’ll give you half the profits from any sales.”
Connor shook his head. “That’s not fair. I own the buildings you’re starting the whole process in.” Alton stiffened again, but he didn’t have any right to argue.
Connor continued, “But you own the product. I want one gallon-size basket of vegetables a week for my share. If this idea goes over like I think it will, you’ll be renting the front of one of these buildings as a market and I’ll make money from that. You could open once a week with all your surplus, and I’m betting you’ll sell out by noon.”
Organic vegetables, grown here, not shopped in. Connor’s mind began to race. If this guy could rig it right, maybe the greenhouse could grow year-round. People would drive to Laurel Springs for their fresh vegetables.
“Mayor, I don’t know if you’re crazy or a fortune-teller, but you got yourself a deal.” Alton offered his hand once more as he smiled for the first time. “If you have the money to do a few repairs, I could use the space in the next building that butts up on the left side of this one.”
“Done.” Connor never hesitated when he knew something was right. “I know a kid who can probably build you a proper door without damaging the structure. I need to keep him busy.”
“Oh,” Alton asked as if he might be taking on trouble.
“Yeah. He’s dating my daughter. Maybe you can keep him so busy he’s too tired to come over for supper every night.”
Alton laughed. “I’ll do my best, boss.”
“Not boss. Partner.” Connor could see the future and it was bright.
Alton nodded. “I’ve been waiting all my life for a shot like this. If we do this together, I promise, you won’t be sorry.”
Connor understood. “You know, Mr. Elliot, I think these old buildings have been waiting for you, too.”
25
Without Connor at dinner, the hours seemed to move in slow motion. Jillian made a tuna casserole from one of Gram’s old recipes. Joe claimed it was the best he ever had. Sunnie swore it was the first she’d ever had and Reese, who was late to dinner, simply said he didn’t like tuna so he only ate two helpings. The guy could eat more than a family of six. His folks were probably doubling his college fund by sending him over to the Larady house to eat.
She’d saved Connor a plate, but when he finally made it home, he didn’t seem interested in eating. He had something on his mind, and no one asked for fear of hearing every detail of the city’s business.
When Reese had offered to drive Jillian home, Connor nodded, and for the first time seemed to become aware that she was there.
He stood and pointed Reese toward the kitchen. “While you say good night to Sunnie, Reese, I’ll walk Jillian out.”
Reese started to say he was ready, but Sunnie jerked him into the kitchen so fast, Reese looked like the world’s largest rag doll trailing behind her.
Jillian wanted to roll her eyes at the whole group. From Joe to Sunnie, they were all trying to give Connor a chance to be alone with her. Like whatever was between them might last if they just had a few more minutes.
As always, Connor opened the door for her. She thought about telling him
the kindness wasn’t necessary, but she guessed he wasn’t doing it because he had to, or needed to. The small gesture was done simply because he wanted to.
Once alone on the shadowy porch, he didn’t move close to her like she hoped he would. He just stood looking out into the night, lost in his thoughts.
When she touched his arm, he turned toward her and smiled. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind tonight. A new business venture if I’m lucky. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Maybe we can have lunch together and talk. Just me and you for a change.”
“I’d like that.”
“But tonight I need to tell you a bit I learned after doing some research on the town about thirty years back.” He brushed her shoulder with a gentle touch. “Something important maybe.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” Anything that involved research could wait.
“It could, but...”
She ended the discussion by leaning in and boldly kissing him. He might want to talk, but she simply wanted to feel tonight. If they only had a moment of time, she wanted it to count and as far as she was concerned, any discussion was over.
Pressing close, she molded her body against his in invitation, hoping for a memory that she could hold on to all night. In the stillness, the sound of his heartbeat echoed against hers. She loved the lean strength of him against her. He fit like a glove, a match, as no one else ever had. The feel of him. The smell of him. The taste of him. All were like deep cell memories she’d known a hundred lifetimes ago. The one person, one mate that was just right.
He took her bold invitation without hesitation. As his kiss caught fire, his hands moved along her sides, not touching, not caressing, but feeling her through the cotton blouse she wore.
She wanted skin on skin, but this was as close as she could get, and he wasn’t shy as he explored. The shadows blanketed them in a cocoon, and for a moment she could relax against his warmth and simply feel.
When he moved his lips away from her mouth and began tasting his way down her neck, she knew she’d won. “I’ve wanted to be this close all day.” Her mouth brushed his ear. “I want to melt into you until for a moment there is no me, no you, just us. It feels so good when you’re this close.”
He threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth to his once more. With words brushing against her lips, he whispered, “I want this, too. I want you, Jillian, like I’ve never wanted another. All day. All night. I have this ache inside of me as if something’s always been missing.” He kissed her hard and added, “It’s you, Jillian. It’s you next to me that was absent. It’s you against me.”
His deep kiss brought every sense alive. She’d kissed men who were practiced. Men who were bold. But none were right. Connor’s kisses, his touches, weren’t dances or games he was playing; they were basic needs. Like food and water and air.
His hand covered her breast and she straightened, pushing softly against his palm. Neither moved for a moment, then he leaned slightly and kissed her so tenderly, she forgot to breathe.
The door opened behind them, and both took a step backward. Both gulping for air as they returned to the real world.
In the shadows his fingers laced with hers. Holding tight for one more moment. They both wanted the same thing and whether it was once or every night until she left, Jillian knew he’d be the lover she’d always remember, always dream of, always measure every other lover by. This gentle man had a passion in him that might drown her if she wasn’t careful, but for this one time she had to drink her fill.
“I didn’t mean to...” he started.
“I did.” She smiled and he gave up apologizing.
He grinned. “If we’re ever truly alone again, I don’t know what will happen. I’m crazy about you.”
“I know exactly what will happen. The question is, Mayor, are you ready for it?”
His words came out in a breath. “I think I’ve been waiting all my life for you to come along.”
Sunnie and Reese bolted out the door like two wild colts. She was beating on him for calling her “honey,” and he was laughing so hard he kept tripping over his own feet.
Finally, he locked Sunnie in a headlock, kissed the top of her striped hair, and said good-night.
She turned back to the porch, mumbling death threats.
Connor looked at Jillian and shrugged. “What can I say, love’s complicated.”
“It’s not love,” Sunnie screamed.
“Hell,” Reese yelled back. “I’m not sure it’s even like, honey.”
He darted to his truck for self-preservation as Connor opened the passenger door for Jillian. “You sure you want to ride home with him? He doesn’t even have a license, and I’m not sure he’s got any brains since he’s dating my daughter.”
“I’ll live dangerously for a few blocks.” She winked at Connor, telling him what they’d shared in the porch shadows had fueled her spirit.
Connor was still standing at the curb when they disappeared around the corner. She was already feeling cold inside without him. What they’d just done would keep both of them awake, she guessed.
She could tell herself that it was only a kiss. Only a touch. But deep down she knew it was far more.
They’d crossed an invisible line. From “if something might happen” to “when” and both knew it.
26
The next morning, the warm sun brightened Jillian’s day as she walked to work, but all night she’d felt the loss of not having Connor close. He’d said they’d have lunch, just the two of them, but she knew his invitation came with ifs. If Gram is doing fine. If the nurse shows up. If the city doesn’t need him. If Sunnie didn’t have something traumatic happen like breaking up with another boyfriend.
Mrs. Kelly had gone into Dallas for the third time in the weeks Jillian had been in town. Jillian thought of asking Connor to have lunch in her room, but somehow that didn’t seem right. They weren’t two kids looking for a hideout, and what she had was too unique to be treated like an affair.
Walking past the little house with its colorful pots and neglected yard, she saw the owner sitting on the porch. Her hair didn’t look like it had seen a comb in days, and her housecoat was stained.
As Jillian neared, she waved. “Morning.”
The disheveled lady waved back from her wheelchair.
The colorful pots. The trashy yard. The wheelchair. It all made sense now.
When Jillian reached Main, she noticed Connor’s office was still dark. If the light had been on she might have gone over, only for a few minutes. But instead, she unlocked the shop door and stepped inside. The quilt-covered walls greeted her with their warm colors and stories hidden in the stitching.
May Roger’s butterfly quilt made of flour sacks her grandmother had saved back in the days flour came in bags made from cloth. May had wanted to leave it in the shop when she moved in with her daughter so that everyone could enjoy it.
Evie McWeathers’s pinwheel quilt hung next to May’s butterflies. Her scalloped edges and circles were made only with Highland plaids her parents had brought with them from Scotland. It took her so long to make all the circles fit, she gave it to Gram, claiming she never wanted to see it again.
Next was the Robertson family quilt. Everyone said the sisters had fought over their mother’s Wedding Ring quilt for years. The mother asked Gram to keep it till she died. She claimed she wouldn’t give it to any one of her children who mentioned it in her presence. From last reports, the quilt would be going to the county museum because the Robertson daughters were not known to be quiet about anything.
Jillian stood in the center of the shop and twirled around, loving all the colors and designs flying by.
All were treasures. All were unique. All were part of the history of this place.
Finally, Jillian went to put the coffee on. She decided to write a few of her
quilt articles before the day got busy. But before she had the pot scrubbed, the front doorbell started ringing, stuttering as if a herd was coming in.
She leaned out from the tiny kitchen and saw half a dozen ladies, dressed in their Sunday clothes, carrying their big purses and their bigger sewing bags.
“Was there a meeting today?” she asked, as two more bumped their way inside.
Stella took charge. “There is no meeting. We’re going to FART today.”
All the others giggled. Two more crowded in, shoving the ones at the front farther into the shop. CNN should report this as a bag lady war.
Mass insanity, Jillian thought. They were making no sense, and worse, they seemed to have put Stella in charge.
Jillian glanced out the window, hoping to see Connor’s light on across the street. No such luck. She was outnumbered and on her own.
Stella faced her troops. “Now did everyone bring their cell phones?”
The crowd of twelve nodded.
Stella stood on her tiptoes. “Now, remember, we all have to take pictures to send to Gram. She’s going with us in spirit. No selfies. These shots are for Gram to see what’s going on.”
“What’s a selfie?” one lady asked from the back.
Another added, “Don’t you need a stick to do that?”
No one answered her.
Two women said they didn’t know how to take pictures with their phones, and three more said they didn’t know how to send anything. Stella mumbled something about how anyone can learn to use a phone, just find a kid over four and he’ll show you. Then she yelled again, “Who brought snacks?”
Three ladies raised paper grocery bags.
“Who brought chocolate?”
Two waved smaller bags.
“We’ll eat the chocolate first. Don’t want it melting in the bus.” Stella raised her voice once more. The Sanderson sisters weren’t listening. “I’ve got a cooler of water and Diet Cokes. Everybody can have two drinks, so pace yourselves. We don’t want to be stopping at every Toot’n Totum for a potty break.”
