Harvesting Acorns

by Deirdré Amy Gower

  She stretched and enjoyed how her body seemed to loosen up and sink deeper into the cosy bed. The sun streamed through a slight opening between the curtains and Chloe liked the way it felt like a small ray of hope. She had a good feeling about this new phase of her life. It was a new morning, a new start.

  She got up and dressed; then took her laptop with her down to the café for breakfast. She thought that she would just check her e-mails and tie up a few loose ends that she had forgotten in her rush to get away from her old life. Phoebe was serving some customers and chatting familiarly with them. It seemed that they must be some of the locals; the regulars Phoebe had mentioned. Chloe greeted them all and took a seat in a booth at the window.

  She opened up her laptop and booted up while she looked at the breakfast menu. She felt like a big breakfast, she thought she would abandon her strict healthy eating habits in favour of pancakes and eggs and toast. Her body just needed something extra today. She looked out the window and noticed her surroundings and all the things she had not seen the afternoon before.

  Across the street was a huge park. It was very green and neatly landscaped. There seemed to be a large duck pond with some benches along the bank. There were pathways with quite a few people jogging and others picnicking on the grass patches in between. What grabbed Chloe’s attention was the giant oak tree in the middle of the park. It held her focus – there was just something about this tree. She was so mesmerised and faraway with her thoughts that she did not hear Phoebe approach.

  “Chloe, are you all right?” she giggled, as Chloe looked up after the third time she called to her.

  “Oh my goodness, Phoebe! I am sorry, I didn’t hear you! I was looking out at the park, I had not noticed it yesterday and I guess my mind wandered off,” Chloe apologised profusely for being rude.

  “Don’t worry. You have a lot to take in and even though you had a good sleep, I am sure it will still take a few days for you to start feeling human again. Can I get you some coffee and what can I get you for breakfast?” There it was again, that comforting nurturing that Chloe had seen the day before.

  “I am going to be very greedy this morning I am afraid. I am ravenous!” Chloe told Phoebe what she had decided on.

  “Of course, I’ll make sure it is ready as quickly as possible,” Phoebe giggled in the way Chloe had now heard a few times – not girlish, mature but with a hint of the youthful spirit that danced behind those wise eyes.

  Chloe looked back out the window at the oak tree. There was now a little boy standing underneath it and looking up into the branches. He had a cooler box next to him. Chloe assumed he was about to picnic or had just finished a picnic. She didn’t pay any more attention to it and focused on her laptop. She checked her e-mails.

  There were two from her closest friends just asking if she had arrived anywhere in particular and curious as to where she had chosen. They expressed their concern and volunteered their support if she needed anything. It was good to feel their friendship and care for her. She was going to miss them, but they had their own lives. Vivienne had recently got married and Candice was expecting her second baby so she didn’t feel like she was throwing away friendships that demanded her constant presence. They had been friends since their school days and so she was confident that they would keep in touch and update each other on what was happening in each other’s lives.

  Phoebe arrived with the coffee and food simultaneously. That was something quite rare in restaurants and Chloe liked it. The mixture of the aromas of coffee and cinnamon and toast had Chloe’s belly grumbling loudly in anticipation. She and Phoebe laughed out loud.

  “I will leave you in peace to satisfy that appetite of yours and then when you are ready I would love to chat and see how we can help with whatever your next move is” she said as she placed the plate in front of Chloe.

  “Bon appétit!”

  “Thank you” Chloe smiled up at her, “I am going to enjoy and savour every mouthful of this.”

  Phoebe returned to the kitchen and Chloe began with her meal. She looked up out at the park again. The little boy was now sitting on his cooler box just gazing up into the tree’s branches. Very curious she thought. She watched him as she ate and sipped her coffee. It took her about half an hour to finish and throughout that time the little boy had remained where he was, just sitting on his cooler box and looking up into the tree. Perhaps he was watching a bird nesting, although as it was autumn she doubted that. Maybe there were squirrels then. She found herself unusually interested in the child’s behaviour. Perhaps it was the journalist in her looking for a story behind every day events, looking for the extraordinary in the ordinary. She turned her attention to finishing the rest of her meal. She didn’t want to keep Phoebe waiting too long for their chat, especially as she had arrived for breakfast so late. She realised that Phoebe would soon need to start preparing for the lunchtime intake of diners.

  Phoebe noticed that she had finished and came over with two cappuccinos. She took a seat in the booth opposite Chloe.

  “So, where to from here? You know you are welcome to stay here; we will keep that room for you for as long as you need. If you want to go exploring the village and try out other places - do so knowing you have a backup plan should it get late and you find yourself without a bed for the night.”

  Chloe was overwhelmed by her kindness.

  “No need for me to look anywhere else. I am very happy to stay here, until I am able to sort myself out with accommodation that is more permanent. Assuming this village is where I decide to stay. You have been so generous and have taken a lot of the pressure off of me that I had been anticipating on arriving without prior planning.” She glanced out the window, the little boy was slowly walking away carrying his cooler box.

  “Are you going to tell me what brought you here?” Phoebe asked with a bit of a playful mannerism, knowing that she may be pushing for information that Chloe was not ready to share yet, but trying her luck anyway.

  “Let me just say that my life back home was not working out as I had planned and I needed to leave before it affected me any more than it already had. I made a decision to leave without any real goal or destination. I am just letting life lead me,” Chloe said, trying to sound as optimistic about her decision as she could. “I promise I will tell you the whole story soon, but today I just need to go exploring. Thank you, Phoebe. For everything.”

  Chloe packed her laptop away and helped Phoebe take the plates and mugs through to the kitchen. As they walked through Phoebe asked:

  “Can you at least tell me what it was you were doing, you know, as your career?”

  “I am, er, I was a journalist. I am not anymore,” Chloe smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Enough said.” Phoebe smiled back compassionately.

  Chloe got into her car and decided to drive past the park and then to drive through the main part of the village towards the beach. Yes! That was exactly her plan for the afternoon – a walk on the beach to centre herself and hopefully regain a little of the balance she felt she had lost somewhere along her path. This village she had stumbled upon was so quaint; she found it hard not to love it already. Of course she had not met any of its inhabitants yet, but if Phoebe and Jean Pierre were anything to go by, she reckoned she might just be in the friendliest place she had ever been.

  She parked her car and got out to start her walk, but noticed the charming little shops across the street and decided to go and browse first. It was just after midday and still quite hot out, even with the approaching colder season not far off. The first was a bookshop; she decided to leave that for last on her way back – she was an absolute bookworm and knew she would not get to see anything else once she found herself in a bookstore.

  The next shop was a clothing store. She decided to have a look; she needed some new clothes anyway. She had been so engrossed in her career the last few years that her wardrobe consisted mostly of suits in every colour and style; and evening wear. All she wanted
right now was a good pair of denims, comfortable sandals and a practical, but still feminine, shirt. She didn’t find any of these in this particular store. They sold the most exquisite vintage clothing; nothing she could ever have imagined wearing before, but decided to try a few things on anyway.

  In the changing room she felt herself transported back to the nineteen fifties in a gorgeous black lace dress. She scratched in her bag for some hair clips and pinned her hair up in an elegant chignon and put on some lipstick. Oh how elegant she felt. She decided she would not buy anything just yet. She would first establish if she was staying and what sort of attire she would need most. She had a feeling the jeans and tees would be most practical – for long walks on the beach and in that splendid park.

  The next shop was an antiques shop. Chloe loved antiques and so eagerly went inside to see what she could rummage through and what thrown out treasures she could find. She made her way past decades old furniture to the back where there seemed to be a horde of interesting paraphernalia and the stuff that really told stories and had you imagining all sorts of possibilities for where these objects had been and the people who had owned, maybe even crafted, them.

  She came across an old frame encasing a considerably worn sketch. She stared at it a while; it looked so familiar. It was a park. After a few minutes of examination she was almost sure it was the park opposite the café where she had watched the little boy. Except in this picture there were no paved pathways or benches. Still, it seemed familiar. In the centre was a tree. Not the giant oak tree she had seen this morning, but of course, this drawing was really old. She was positive it was the same tree, only much younger. What was it about this tree that spoke to her? She didn’t know, but she felt that she needed to have this framed picture and so, without even looking at anything more in the store, she bought the sketch and left.

  She walked back to her car to put her purchase safely away so that she didn’t need to carry it around with her. When she got to her car and looked out at the beach she noticed an elderly couple walking, hand in hand, along the water’s edge. She felt a sigh rise up from deep within her. Did that kind of lifelong love really exist? Was it still possible in these whimsical times? As much as experience told her no, she still hoped, still believed it could. She watched them for a few minutes and then returned to her browsing of the rest of the shops on the block. A craft and hobby shop; a handmade jewellery store; an organic products store - where she bought some healthy snacks for the afternoon; and then back up the road to the bookstore - where she spent about an hour disappearing into the pages of one book after the other.

  When she eventually looked up from the books she realised it was getting late. She did not want to miss out on a walk on the beach. She left the store and headed down to the sea. The sun was just starting to lower in the sky, she thought she had about an hour before it began to set – perfect timing - her first day and her first sunset.

  She took her shoes off and felt another huge sigh rise up as her feet touched the sand. She loved the feeling of not having any barriers between her physical self and the earth she was walking on – in all its natural glory – no cement or tar, just grainy sand. She went down to the water’s edge and walked just where the waves could reach her. She tried to be fully present in the moment – feeling the wind in her hair, listening to the sounds of the waves and the gulls squawking as they squabbled for last bits of food before sunset, smelling the scents of the ocean and just marvelling at the beauty of it all.

  There were a few other people walking; some with dogs or partners, and others, like her, alone – just enjoying the solitude and time out from everything else. It never ceased to amaze her how the sea could make her feel so alive, rejuvenate her spirit, while calming her at the same time. Nature had miraculous ways of restoring balance and harmony.

  The sun began its decent into the sea. Chloe decided to find herself a place to sit and watch quietly. She decided on a sand dune and climbed right up to the top. It was the perfect spectator seat to watch the sun’s spectacular performance. There were a few people surfing and some stand-up paddle boarders. As one rode a wave towards the shore he crossed the path of the sunset, using his paddle to guide his way to shore. With the golden glow of the sunset behind him it created an image with each sweep of his paddle of sweeping flames off the foamy crests. It was breathtaking to witness. Finally, the last curve dipped below the surface and the sky turned multitude shades of pastels – pink, blue and lilac. It inspired her writer’s creativity and she fished for a notepad and pen in the little hip bag she carried - she always had a pen and paper with her wherever she went (it was one of the habits that was encouraged during her studies) - and scribbled down a few lines, recording the moment in a poem.

  The air suddenly cooled and Chloe shivered. It was time to get back to the guesthouse. She did not want to inconvenience Phoebe and Jean Pierre by arriving after they had already settled for the evening. She tucked her notepad back into her bag and walked slowly back to her car.

  When she arrived at the guesthouse Phoebe came out to meet her, clearly excited about something.

  “I have such good news for you, or at least I think it is, perhaps you will not,” she beamed. “I got chatting to some of our patrons today and mentioned a certain new visitor who, somehow, brightened up my day.” She really was beaming. “In about two weeks’ time, they have an apartment that will be available for rent.”

  Surprised, Chloe stuttered:

  “I… I don’t know what to say. I appreciate you thinking of me, I just have not had time to decide what I am going to do yet. I only have a limited amount of available funds and so I can’t plan anything long term yet. Especially leasing an apartment.”

  Phoebe did not seem perturbed by Chloe’s hesitancy.

  “Let me finish! These customers own the biggest, all right, the only media company in town. They produce a bi-monthly magazine about local events, history and generally everything our community would find interesting.”

  Chloe’s eyes widened and again she stammered,

  “I don’t mean to be rude or sound unappreciative but my media and journalism days are over.”

  Phoebe put her hand on Chloe’s arm,

  “Synchronicity needs to at least be given a fleeting moment’s consideration before being dismissed mon amie.” She gave her a wry smile. “The position is as editor. No reporting, no writing on your part. Now you get to be the critic and decide what gets published. I am no fool – I put two and two together. I see your disillusionment but also the spirit within you, I admire you for whatever you gave up to be here now.”

  Chloe stood, rooted to the ground, still standing in the doorway where Phoebe had met her in her excitement. She was dumb struck. She had just driven hundreds of kilometres running away from her old life and here it was waiting for her when she got here. She laughed out loud at the irony. You can run, but you cannot hide – the old saying mockingly popped into her head.

  “I promise I will sleep on it. This is a lot to take in, I need some time.” She had paled and felt a little light headed.

  “Take all the time you need. Now come, let me prepare some dinner and in the meantime, a cup of chamomile tea for you – you seem a little jittery, it will calm you.” She giggled that alluring giggle again.

  “We are having basil pesto pasta with avocado and almonds. Please join us this evening; we would love your company.”

  They sat around the table; the conversation flowed easily, as if they had been friends for many years. Jean Pierre opened a bottle of Merlot and they all enjoyed the warmth and glow it brought as they chatted. Jean Pierre recounted their history in the village. They had been here for eight years now and could not imagine living anywhere else.

  They had arrived from France with very little command of communicative English, but had been overwhelmed by the patience of the locals as they learned to speak the language. They had opened the guesthouse first and then extended to include the café three years ago
. It was very popular and Phoebe worked very hard. She did most of the baking herself. When she first began and found that she loved it, she had completed a confectioner’s course and now supplied her coffee shop with all sorts of delicacies; éclairs, petit fours, tarts, cakes, biscuits and so much more.

  Jean Pierre was also in partnership with one other person, as an architect. Although where they were, the village thrived on and relied on its history as a tourist attraction and so very few of the buildings had been renovated or replaced. Most of Jean Pierre’s work was in the cities and so he travelled whenever his work demanded.

  Before they had immigrated, Phoebe had taught ballet. She was a professional ballerina and had performed innumerable times and in many classics: Swan Lake, The Nutcracker and many others, but her favourite was a production of The Water Babies that she had choreographed and performed in with her students. It was a story that was undervalued and never given the attention it deserved, almost forgotten. She still taught once a week, at the primary school a few blocks away. She did not dance professionally anymore, but as it was her passion, she delighted in watching the young dancers developing their dance skills and sharing in their euphoria at eisteddfod time when they got to live their ballerina dreams in their pink tutus.

  Chloe felt herself relaxing into their warmth and hospitality and found herself feeling comfortable enough to share her journey. She told of her travels and the things she had been exposed to in order to write the stories that she hoped would bring awareness to people who did not know what was happening beyond the safe boxes they had built around themselves, oblivious to the suffering of other beings who share this beautiful planet. She told of mass demand for thriller stories and the persuasion methods that she had been subjected to by her employers in order to get her to write entertaining rather than informative articles.