“Hey, Oscar, is Lola home?” she asked, peering over his shoulder.
“Hey, Katrina,” he said, giving her a smile. “Lola!” he hollered.
“What?” Lola said, walking toward the door. Oscar stepped aside so Lola could see Katrina. He then left them alone.
“Hey, Katrina, what’s up?” Lola asked as Katrina opened the door and walked in.
“Nothing much,” she said, grabbing Lola’s hand and walking past her, dragging Lola along behind her. She walked them straight to Lola’s back door and out, continuing to pull Lola behind her. Once outside, Katrina turned to face her.
“I was thinking that this would be the perfect time to tour Will’s backyard; you know, to take a look around. I just checked his home and he’s not there.”
“So, out of the blue, you’ve decided that now would be a great time to sneak into his backyard,” she said, shaking her head in wonder. “Girl, you’re crazy. It’s those fertilizer fumes. I’ve told you time and time again to lay off them, but do you listen?” She placed her hand on Katrina’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm,” she said. Katrina swatted her hand away.
“I’m not kidding. I need to see his backyard. He has agreed to lead the competition, and I’m going to agree to work with him. It’s imperative that I see what his abilities are, and what better way than by getting a good look for myself, especially when he’s not around,” she said, walking toward Lola’s back fence.
“So now it’s imperative,” Lola said.
“You don’t have to come; I just need you to play lookout,” Katrina said.
“Look, Katrina, this is trespassing; you are aware of that little fact?”
“How is this trespassing, Lola? I am in your yard all the time, and some of the other neighbors’ yards all the time. Most times, I don’t have their permission. They know me.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Lola said, hands going to her hips.
“Hey, he is my neighbor, right? He and I will be working together, and I bet he would understand why I would need to check his yard out. He would consider it doing my homework, research. He’s a big-time businessman; he would understand that logic, right?”
“You could ask him, Katrina; I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”
“Why wait? Who knows when he’ll be home, anyway. And what’s that expression you always use? Oh, I know, there is no time like the present.”
Lola didn’t immediately answer, which was a sign that she was giving in.
“Come on, Lola, you don’t have to come in; just tell me when he gets home. Use your cell, send me a text, and I’ll leave.”
“Katrina, if it isn’t trespassing, then why do you need a lookout?”
“He works so hard; I wouldn’t want to interrupt his evening, give him a scare, so I just want to be gone by the time he gets back.”
“You are something else. I’ve told you that more than once, but you’re my girl. So hurry your ass up,” she said, walking back to the front of her home.
“Don’t forget to text me. One word, ‘him’, and I’ll leave. I promise. Thank you, oh, great one, Super BFF, always got my back, my one and only,” Katrina said, reciting a steady stream of praises to Lola’s back.
“Shut up,” Lola said. Katrina giggled. She knew she could count on Lola. She walked through the back gate and out into the greenbelt. It was quiet. It was always quiet except for the occasional coyotes crying or an owl hooting and crickets chirping. The homes on this side of the street backed up to a greenbelt. No homes were built across from her or her neighbors’ backyards—protection for St. Paul the Salamander and his habitat, which was in the creek that ran behind their homes. So no building permitted around him.
Most of her neighbors had some kind of lighting to illuminate their yards after dark, but it wasn’t completely dark yet and wouldn’t be for twenty to thirty minutes. She passed by the Sheppards’ home next to Lola’s before coming to a stop in front of Will’s back fence. Of course, his gate wasn’t the usual run-of-the-mill fence; it stood about ten feet high, and was made with a nice wood design. You could count on him to be different, she thought, checking the gate’s latch; it opened, and she pushed the gate open a little and stepped inside, looking around. “Wow,” she whispered under her breath. “This is more than just a garden; this is art.” She wondered if that made him an artist. God, she hoped not; this was hard enough to swallow.
His yard was huge, his house smaller than some of the others on her street. She’d guess it was because it was eco-friendly and all; small home, small footprint. She stood facing the back of his home gazing at what looked like floor-to-ceiling windows running the length of it. An overhang extended from the roof, for cover or shade, she imagined. He could probably see his complete backyard from anywhere in his home.
To the left of his home, taking up almost half of his yard, was a beautiful light-grey gravel bed, raised, with large boulders placed strategically throughout, some leaning on their sides, others standing three feet in height; some were in groupings, and a few stood alone, like rocks in water. The gravel had been raked into some type of design. She walked closer to get a better look; yep, it had been raked, all right, the design resembling ocean waves, swooping and curving. How had he managed to make those? Had to have had a special rake of some kind.
Shrubbery ran along the fence line, relatively new and small in size, but once it reached its full height, it would completely cover the fence. Katrina knew that species of shrubbery grew tall. It would feel like living in his own private world, his own personal enclosed oasis. Looking over to the right back corner of his yard, she found a waterfall, a couple of feet in height, beautiful in its design. A huge flat stone served as the lip, sending water spilling onto the rocks below and then running into a small pond at the bottom that was filled with fish. Gold and orange koi looked up at her as she gazed down at her reflection in the pond. How had he managed to make all of these features feel and look as if they belonged here and had been here for ages? He hadn’t lived here that long, yet these features felt like a natural part of the landscape.
Next to the small pond and closer to his home stood what looked to be some kind of outdoor living room. It was completely enclosed, with two doors leading to it, like saloon doors of old, but Japanese in design. The doors were open, beckoning her. She walked through them to find walls made of smooth brown wooded planks. The room was about the size of her bathroom, and covered with a ceiling made of the same wood planks. Two small lanterns hung from overhead, giving the space a warm glow. A large wooded seat was attached to the lower back wall, protruding outward, large enough to seat two or three people. Katrina felt a little wet and looked upward to see mists of water coming from tiny spouts attached to a cord running along the ceiling. This feature had to come in handy on one of their hotter-than-hell summer days.
She looked up again, staring at the lanterns that hung suspended from the ceiling, taking in the chimes that hung from the top alongside the lanterns. She touched one and was rewarded with a low chime. She liked this space, really liked this space, and contemplated how she might recreate something similar in her backyard. She turned around and walked out.
The patio outside near what she assumed was the back door was covered in a beautiful stone and was smooth to her touch. She stood with her back to his home and looked at his garden again, her position closer to how he viewed it from inside. There were lanterns and solar lights at various points of the garden, following a small path throughout the whole of it; a few lanterns hung from decorative poles, too. She now understood the reason for John’s push for him to lead, why the committee had been so impressed. So was she, finally understanding how it had excited them.
She jumped as her cell vibrated in her pocket and scooted back in the direction she’d come just as the lights came on in his home and the man himself stepped into his living room. Shoot, she thought, Lola was going to get her caught. She slipped out his back gate, hoping he hadn’t se
en her, but not waiting around to find out. She walked quickly back over to Lola’s.
“You should have texted me sooner; I almost got caught,” she said as soon as Lola came into view.
“Sorry, my cell’s battery was low; I had to find Oscar’s. But I thought you said he wouldn’t mind you being back there?” Lola said.
“No grief, Lola,” she said, holding up her hand up. “I had enough of a shock seeing the lights come on in his home.”
“Well, what did you think?”
“Think about what?”
“His backyard. You know, the reason for this clandestine trip.”
“Oh, it was beautiful, and you can’t know how much I hate telling you that,” she said. “Anyway, thank you for being my lookout,” she said, walking out of Lola’s back gate and back over to her home, quiet now, her mind still in Will’s backyard.
He had an eye, that was for sure. Okay, so he could design a backyard, okay, a beautiful backyard, but could he duplicate it on a much larger scale? Within a budget, with volunteers, sticking to a schedule? She still had her doubts that he really understood what he was getting himself into, beautiful backyard or not.
***
Will was tired, ready to crash on his couch. He and G had spent the day fishing after a long week at work. He walked into his home and turned on the lights, and his eye caught movement in his backyard. He turned to see the back gate closing. Was that Katrina? He’d seen someone dart out his back gate, and it looked liked her, her signature hat, ponytail protruding from the back of it, giving her away. He walked out the back door and looked around. No sign of her now. What would she be doing in his backyard, he wondered. Who knew with Katrina? She was turning out to be nothing if not interesting.
***
March
The first Saturday morning in March found Katrina standing over two cubic yards of dirt. Some of the best dirt and compost mix you could get your hands on had just been delivered to her home. She planned to spend the weekend spreading it over her lawn. She could have used some help here, kicked herself for not taking her godfathers up on their offer to send someone over to help her. Nope, she could do all things by herself.
She regarded the pile of dirt again. Well it wouldn’t move itself.
“Hey, Katrina, I didn’t know it was your birthday.” Tom the retiree was standing there in his usual retiree dress: a white T-shirt pulled tightly over his round belly and tucked neatly into shorts that were shorter than they should have been. Black knee high socks and white tennis shoes completed the ensemble.
“Morning, Tom. It’s not my birthday,” she responded, looking confused.
“You’re courting then?”
“Courting as in dating?” she asked, tilting her head. “Nope, there’s no courting going on over here.”
“I thought one of your beaus gave that pile of dirt to you as a gift. You know gifts are the way to a woman’s heart, and who loves dirt more than you,” he said, smiling as if he knew Katrina inside and out.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” she said, smiling back at him. “How’s Billie?”
“Fine. She’s enjoying the life of a retiree, trying not to let her lazy husband bother her too much. We’re expecting the grandkids in the next week or two. Maybe you’ve got room for me at your house while they’re here,” he said, laughing heartily at his own humor. “Speaking of dirt, sorry to hear that you’re not going to lead us to victory this year.”
“No, not this year. Will, your new neighbor, is leading this year,” she said.
“The guy who built the green home?” he asked.
“Yes, him.”
“Ump,” was Tom’s response. “Well, I know you’re anxious to stick it to your pile of dirt there, so I won’t delay you further. Goodbye now,” he said, walking away.
Katrina stuck her shovel into the pile and dumped a load into her wheelbarrow, then repeated the step; shovel in, dirt out, again and again. The one upside to this type of work was that she could skip her run on the treadmill. This would be her workout for the day, maybe even the next couple of days. Once the wheelbarrow was full, she pushed it over to a spot in her yard and dumped the contents. She’d spread it later. The goal for today and probably tomorrow would be to reduce and divide the major dirt pile.
She walked the wheelbarrow over to the dirt pile, stuck her earplugs in her ears, turned on her mp3 player and began again. Shovel in, dirt out, shovel in, dirt out; her movements in time to the latest Beyoncé tune that played in her ears.
***
You’re the man, she told herself a few hours later, internally patting herself on her back for what she’d accomplished so far. She was one-fourth of the way done and she was also very hungry. Removing her earphones, she plopped down on the ground for a second to catch her breath and replenish the water she’d lost; unfortunately, she could sweat with the best of the pigs. Where was that water bottle, anyway?
She was feeling lazy, didn’t want to stand up again to search for it, so she turned over on to her hands and knees—thank God for knee pads, she thought—and climbed up on all fours and crawled around the dirt pile in search of water. Ah, there it was, behind her pile. Wasn’t that always the way things worked? When you need something it was furthest away from you.
While she was bent over, she took in a big whiff of her dirt. Tom was right; was there anything more fragrant than the smell of good soil mixed in with a little manure? She put her face close to her pile and took another deep breath. She would always love this smell, the smell of outdoors, the smell associated with her parents. She took another whiff, closing her eyes, remembering times spent in the backyard growing up. For some people, home was food, fried chicken and gravy, mashed potatoes and biscuits. For her, it had been spending time working with her parents in the garden, helping out, learning from them. She took another sniff and froze.
There was someone behind her now, she could hear the sound of feet, maybe even suppressed laughter. She dropped her head and looked past her stomach, in between her legs, to find a bicycle with two legs standing behind her. Yep, there was someone standing there, all right. She lifted her head and inwardly groaned, imagining what she must look like to the untrained eye. What the hell. She turned and looked into the eyes and full smile that belonged to Will. Why him and why now, she thought.
“Hey, Katrina, what are you doing?” he asked, lips tightly pressed together, as if he was trying not to laugh.
“Uh, nothing much. I was searching for my water bottle,” she said, pulling it over to show him as she pushed herself up to her knees, looking back over her shoulder at him.
“It looked like you were sniffing that dirt pile,” he said, fighting to keep a straight face.
“I do not smell dirt,” she responded, pushing herself into a standing position and turning to face him fully. Bad idea, as she felt an immediate rush of warmth enter her abdomen and move to her lower body at the sight of him in his cycling gear, all long and lean. Way past angry with him, her body had returned to its normal reaction to seeing him this way. Like Frodo and his Orc sword, her body turned the color warm whenever he got close, and it didn’t help that he was dressed in her favorite articles of clothing, sky blue in color this time.
She looked at him, her eyes moving to his chest, clad in that tight cycling shirt, remembering how it had felt next to hers as he lay over her and kissed her like nobody’s business. Her eyes moved down to take in his waist; her hands had been around that waist, which was flat, hard, and with definition for days. Her hands starting to twitch, her eyes trailing lower, moving downward to...
He cleared his throat and she froze, her eyes moving up to find his. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears. She must look some kind of funny.
“I was on my way out and saw you bent over here. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said.
“Yeah, sure, I’m okay. Thanks for stopping by to check,” she added, looking anywhere but at him.
“No problem. Take care,” he said, tu
rning to leave, waving a final time as he pedaled away.
What a fine ass, she thought, watching as he stood up, pushing hard on the pedals to get his bike moving, the muscles of his ass moving hard, too, making her hand twitch again. She wouldn’t last long as his assistant if she couldn’t get a handle on her hormones. At the very least, she needed to learn to not be so obvious.
***
Will chuckled as he pedaled away from Katrina’s. Five minutes ago he’d pulled out from his driveway, planning to go in the opposite direction from her home, but he’d seen her on all fours over a huge pile of dirt, her butt in the air. It was a sight that had been too good to pass up, so he turned and cycled over to her yard.
He found her decked out in baggy overalls, her baseball cap fixed firmly to her head, thick, long ponytail sticking out of the back, and those glasses . . . she’d resembled a nerdy farmhand. He watched, perversely fascinated, as she’d pressed her nose close to the dirt pile, taking in a large sniff. Her eyes were closed in the throes of pleasure at the aroma, and she looked nearly orgasmic. He’d seen that expression before, the night of the party, at her home, he on top . . . Okay, enough, he told himself. That image of her, and the others he’d accumulated of her since, were becoming hard to forget.
Managing to stifle his laughter, he started pedaling again, heading out of their subdivision. What a riot she was turning out to be; cute and compelling in a way he couldn’t explain . . . or maybe he could, but wasn’t ready to.
***
A little before dusk, a tired Katrina walked over to Lola’s for a beer, having called it quits for the day; it was getting too dark to work, anyway. A beer would be her reward for a day spent playing in the dirt. She needed a shower, but she needed a beer more, and Lola and Oscar always had cold ones.
Steady (Indigo) Page 10
