by T. Nixon
After a while I saw the light brighten through the trees, a sure indicator that I was near the edge of the meadow. I paused and ran a hand over my hair and down my face. The stranger was a mystery I wanted to solve and nothing more, and yet I felt a little self-conscious. As I broke through the tree line into the meadow, I saw he was already there, sitting casually on an extended root arm, playing with a piece of grass. He spotted me, quickly stood up and smiled warmly. I took a deep breath, collected myself and began crossing the sea of grass between us. As I walked, I didn't know where to look so I scanned my eyes either side of me, flitting back to his for only a moment at a time.
“You came,” he said jumping to his feet as I got close, a slight tinge of relief in his voice. Did he think I wouldn't show up?
“Yeah,” I replied and immediately felt stupid.
“I thought you might not, you know.” Was he reading my thoughts? I must have given him a quizzical look. “Since I'm related to Chester. I thought maybe you would have second thoughts about meeting with a relative of the enemy. I certainly would.”
“Well,” I replied not sure what to say. I felt disarmed. He was comfortable putting it out there right away and I wasn't sure if it was a tactic or if he was sincere.
“Would you like to sit?” he gestured towards the root he had been sitting on when I entered the meadow. I looked from his hand to the root unsure of what to do. “It's alright,” he said when did nothing. He smiled. Did he understand I wasn't in the mood to trust him and he wasn't going to push it? “Don't mind if I do then?” he asked. I shook my head.
“How are your injuries faring today?”
“Why did you want to meet me?” I blurted.
He considered me for a moment before answering. “I don't know,” he said honestly. “I was worried, about you.” The words were plain and simple. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease out a little.
“I shouldn't have told you those things yesterday,” I replied. Was I determined to be rude at all costs?
“Maybe not,” he said as he relaxed a bit against the tree. “But you probably needed to.”
He was right, I had needed to. Hadn't I felt a little better after letting it out? I slumped down onto the ground, right in the spot I was standing. I crossed my legs on the soft layer of old needles and reached out for a piece of grass to play with. I fingered it lightly feeling its rigid yet rubbery texture. For several minutes neither of us spoke, he watched me watch the grass slide through my fingers.
It should have been uncomfortable sitting there across from this stranger, but it wasn't. He made me feel at ease even though I didn't want to. He didn't have the intensity of AJ who made me feel pressured, he seemed relaxed and uncomplicated.
“When I was younger my mates told me I should go into therapy.” I looked at him when he said this, he was smiling and the twinkle I had seen yesterday was lacing his eyes. He was trying to joke with me.
“Why would you go into therapy?” I asked, feeling a little rush of concern. It must have shown on my face because he let out a small laugh.
“No, not that I needed therapy, that I should become a therapist.”
“Oh,” I relaxed a little.
“I guess people have always found me easy to talk to. But alas,” he said with a sigh, “that would not be my destiny.” His eyes clouded a bit. I was curious now.
“What happened?”
“This,” he said, and he lifted the piece of grass that he had been playing with when I walked up. He twisted it slowly in front of me. It looked like an ordinary weed grass to me, but he looked at it in a calculated and knowledgeable way. “Lolium arundinaceum. Or Fescue, as it’s commonly known.”
“Grass happened?” I asked confused.
He laughed. “Plants are what happened.”
“Did you choose to go into agriculture?” I asked. It was a stupid question because clearly, he did not have the rough skin of someone who worked in sun laden fields all day.
“No, back home we don't choose, we're chosen. I study them. I learn all I can about them, and I catalog what I know.” He smiled at me from behind his piece of grass. “I can tell you a lot more about this piece of grass than you would ever want to know,” he laughed, and I felt myself smile.
“Was James into plants too?” I asked before I had where with all to realize the question.
“Yes,” he replied quickly, and his smile widened. “It's why he wanted to come here.” I could see him stifle sadness, but I knew he was feeling it. I felt it too. “He desired to have his own land. He became fascinated with wine grapes, such a delicate process, the grafting of new onto the old, how fragile they are and yet how robust they bloom. He studied them quite carefully. And he was lucky enough to find someone who shared his passion, who understood him.” I knew he was talking about Cherry, but I felt like he was implying more.
I didn't know what to say so I said nothing. I studied the piece of grass in my hand again.
“Me, however, I prefer to study trees.” His voice was light again, wanting to lift the mood. “Particularly these lovely redwoods.” He ran a hand gently over the gnarled bark of the giant tree he rested against.
“Are they your passion?” I asked thinking of James and the grapes.
“They are my saving grace,” he said heavily. I looked at him, my lips parted, eyes wide, not knowing what to say. Our eyes met for a moment and I got the distinct impression he wanted me to understand something. He broke the gaze first, turning his attention to the tree. “You see, we don't have any of these back home, what we do have is insignificant. I am envious that you have all this,” he swept his hand to indicate the forest, the meadow.
I dropped my eyes to the piece of grass that was resting in my lap. “I don't have this,” I said flatly, thinking of my room back home in Sacramento. My real home.
“But you do, you're here now.”
“Against my will,” I argued. “I had to come here, there is nowhere else for me to go.” I didn't look at him as I spoke, I kept my eyes trained on the now wilting piece of grass.
“But there could be worse places,” he said gently. “If you can't be home wouldn't you rather be here?”
I felt my body tense at the direction of the conversation and yet I didn't feel the need to escape. I tried to really consider his question. “I guess,” I finally replied. I thought about the horses, about the trees. About the comforting presence of my Aunt Cherry. I compared that to a foster home where I would be living with strangers.
“You know, there are so many little things people don’t think about. Like the house payments that aren’t getting paid. I heard my aunt talking to the bank the other day, trying to negotiate so we don’t lose our home. Or my cell phone which got shut off. It’s just a glorified music player now. I don’t even bother to keep up with my friends back home, not that it matters. None of them know how to talk to me now.” I took a deep breath. “All that is on top of the fact that my parents vanished into thin air…” I had no idea where this openness was coming from, but I didn’t overthink it. It felt both foreign and refreshing to share, and something about this guy made it easy.
“For what it's worth,” he started gently, “I have no parents either.” I wanted to ask him why, but I also wasn't sure I wanted to know. I think he could sense my debate. “I was raised by my... uncles.”
It took a moment for it to sink in. His uncles... oh yeah, James Harris. “Is Chester your uncle?”
“Yes,” he replied quietly. I could tell he was still trying to distance himself from Chester Harris' opinions. “It's quite sad, the person he has become. Grief can make us become different people.”
“Don't,” I said and shot him a gaze. He was not going to soften me up to Chester Harris. Whatever had caused him to become the person he was, I didn't feel sorry for him, and this stranger might have the ability to make me.
“I make no excuses for him,” he said putting his hands up, palms out to me as he had done the day before. I eyed him f
or a moment, this handsome stranger. I felt he was telling the truth and then I pitied his situation. Caught between a devotion to the uncle who raised him and his ugly actions.
“There is only so much one can take,” he said.
“I know that,” I replied with certainty, thinking about my own near breakdown at the gate earlier. I started to feel like I should go.
“But you should know I don't agree with the way he has treated you,” his eyes were firmly on mine and earnest.
“To my aunt,” I said firmly, remembering Chester Harris had been harassing her with his accusations long before I arrived on the farm.
“Especially to your aunt. After all she....” he left the rest unsaid. I wondered how much he knew about her and if she knew anything of him. I got the distinct impression he cared, which was odd seeing as how he was a virtual stranger to me. If Cherry knew this charming young relative of James, she would have surely invited him in with open arms. “Have I convinced you? I would hate to think you wouldn't want to see me again because of his actions.”
He had convinced me, how could he not? If his sincerity was a lie, then he would be next in line for an Oscar. I nodded.
“Let's not talk about it anymore,” he said quickly. “Agreed?” He flashed me a warm, hopeful smile.
“Agreed,” I said. Under his green-eyed gaze, I didn't have had the power to say anything else.
“Will your Aunt be out looking for you?” he asked, and I bolted upright. How long had we been out here? For some reason the thought of anyone finding me in the meadow with him sent a panic through me. How would I explain it to anyone? Brad would surely not trust the nephew of Chester Harris- for who else could he being staying with- and AJ... I didn't know what AJ would say or do but knowing he was protective of Cherry I was certain he wouldn't like it.
“I should probably get going,” I said. I stood up quickly and started brushing the redwood needles from my clothes.
The stranger stood up too. “Let me walk you back,” he said walking towards me.
“No!” I said a little too quickly. He looked across the meadow and then at me, realizing what I couldn't say.
“They probably wouldn't be too happy knowing we were friends, would they?”
“I don't think Cherry would mind but... I mean, I don't know, maybe she would. Obviously, no one knows you're staying with your uncle and they might think you...” I felt flushed and uncomfortable.
“They might think I share his feelings,” he concluded. I smiled at him reflexively. Unlike AJ, this stranger seemed to know the right things to say. “You're right, it's probably better they don't know I'm... staying with my uncle.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Well at least let me walk you across the meadow then,” he placed a hand out in front of him and bowed slightly, inviting me to walk with him in a 'ladies first' kind of gesture. I started to walk, slowly, realizing I needed to get back but also not quite ready to leave.
We didn't speak as we crossed the meadow, but I felt like we both wanted to.
“Here we are,” he said, the inflections in his accent thick. We stopped and I turned slightly to face him. “Thank you for meeting me today, I hope we can meet again soon.”
“Sure,” I stammered
“Are you free again tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.
“I can be,” I said slowly, scanning my brain for any reason why I couldn't, anything Cherry may have told me that would make tomorrow different from today.
“Brilliant,” he said and dazzled me with a smile. “Same time?” I nodded. “Then I look forward to it,” he said tipping an imaginary cap and then started walking away.
I watched after him still a little dazzled. With a start I realized that I never got his name. “Wait!” I called after him. He stopped and turned, the late afternoon sun lit his chocolate-colored hair and glowed on his skin the way it had AJ's just a week before. He smiled and for a second my breath was caught, and I couldn't speak. He looked almost angelic.
I cleared my head. “Your name?”
He laughed. At me or himself I wasn't sure, but either way he was amused. “Simon,” he called from halfway across the meadow. “Simon Harris. Nice to meet you Victoria.”
EIGHT
I took a deep breath before I opened the door to the house. The farmyard was quiet when I walked up, AJ's truck nowhere to be seen. I walked in and saw Cherry at the sink washing veggies for dinner and talking to Brad who was seated at the table. They both got quiet when I entered, a sure sign they were talking about me. We made some pleasantries and I headed upstairs to shower and change.
I made my way back downstairs to suffer through dinner. I hoped they didn't ask too many questions. The glorious smell of pasta and garlic bread flooded my senses and I realized I was ravishing. Conversation over dinner was easy, since we were mostly stuffing our faces with pesto and olive oil drizzled over whole grain pasta. One of the farmers who leased a few acres of land had made a loaf of crusty bread that Cherry had baked with freshly smashed garlic and fresh locally made butter. I didn't always enjoy her way of eating but occasionally she made something I could dig into.
When we finished eating, I jumped up to clear the dishes, anything to keep them from asking prying questions. Cherry and Brad were talking about some local gossip Brad had picked up when he was in town, so I tuned out and focused on getting through the task. I didn't notice the lull in their conversation until it was too late to be prepared.
“So, Vic, what did you do with your afternoon?” Brad asked. His voice was easy, but I knew at once it had been the topic of their conversation when I walked in earlier. Did he know about my jaunt the previous day? Had Cherry told him about how I visited the tree? I doubted it.
“Oh, you know,” I said. I mentally kicked myself for being such a bad liar. Avoiding I was good at.
“Not really,” Brad chuckled, “or I wouldn't be asking.”
“Oh don't tease her Brad,” Cherry gently chastised.
“Just curious is all,” he replied. I thought about what AJ had told me about Brad being in love with Cherry. “You getting to know the land?”
It took me a moment to realize his question was directed at me. “Yeah,” I said as I placed a dish in the rack to dry. “The farm is beautiful.”
“My favorite time is when the vines are in full bloom in the fall. There really is no prettier sight, and harvest is so much fun,” Cherry said. Brad mumbled in agreement. The air was thick with the words she wasn't saying. The likeliness that I would be there in the fall to see it. I sighed and kept at the dishes.
“I sure do hope you've been staying out of the woods,” said Brad. “The deeper you go in the more dangerous it gets.” There was a slight edge to his voice that unnerved me. The words were almost protective, but the tone was something more like... what? Sinister?
I thought for a second before I spoke. “I'm not interested in running into any more wild animals,” I replied. At least it was true.
“Yes Brad,” Cherry said in her honeyed voice, “Victoria and I have talked about it.”
I wanted to turn around to see what was going on between them but I refrained. She had obviously heard the same strange tinge in his voice that I had and was running interference. It was such an odd thing for him, I had known Brad since I was a little girl and I had never known him to be anything less than easy.
As soon as I could make an escape from the kitchen I did. Under the guise of reading, I headed upstairs to lock myself in my room. A while later Brad called up the stairs to say good-bye. I was relieved.
That night I lay in bed and thought about how different Brad was acting from what I remembered. How he had gotten so aggressive and willing to fight Chester Harris. The old man had said horrible things and the anger was more than understandable, but for someone strong like Brad, to fight him would be like fighting a child.
I also thought about Simon. I went over the things we talked about. How it felt like I knew him when really, h
e had told me almost nothing about himself? But he had opened up about James and I knew his feelings were real. But why hadn't I ever heard anything about him? Granted, I didn't know much of anything about James Harris life outside of the farm, but it seemed odd to me that this young and seemingly nice relation of the person Cherry loved wouldn't be welcomed with open arms at the farm. Unless, of course, Cherry didn't know about him. Was it possible? I fell asleep determined to find out.
◆◆◆
The next day Simon met me with the same surprised cheerfulness he had the day before, as though he seriously expected I wouldn't show. He stood up upon noticing me and ran a hand through his slightly disheveled hair causing it to stick out in different directions. I smiled as I approached and resisted an urge to reach out and make his hair right again.
“How are you?” he asked, flashing me a warm smile.
“I'm here,” I said. It was lame.
“I'm glad,” he replied.
I felt self-conscious so I looked around instead of meeting his eyes. “It turned out to be a nice day.”
“It did indeed,” he laughed. If he was laughing at me or the awkwardness of the situation I couldn't tell. “It did indeed,” he repeated. I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Why do I get the feeling you're talking in code?” I asked. I was only partially joking.
“Who me?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “Again, me being wrong as ever, thought you might change your mind about coming. That's all.”
