Jazmine

by Clay, Verna

  Jake jerked back, almost losing his footing. Someone was in the kitchen! His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest. Slowly, he peeked back through the window. It was a woman. She was wearing baking mitts and opening the oven. Reaching inside, she pulled out a cookie sheet and set it on the center island. Jake looked at the mess on the cookie sheet. Instead of cookies, there were charred globs. Jake looked at the woman. Was she crying? Surely, she wasn't crying over burned cookies.

  Jake decided his airplane was more exciting than watching some lady cry over cookies. This lady was no FBI spy. With a disappointed glance at the woman, he started to leave.

  Suddenly, still wearing the baking mitts, the woman grabbed the cookie sheet and tossed it into the air. Jake waited for it to fall back with a loud bang. He had never seen an adult have a tantrum and he wondered what she would do when the mess hit the ground. The woman smiled and started waving her hands up and down. The cookie tray floated in the air. Jake teetered on the rock and almost yelled. Regaining his balance, he hugged the wall and peeked again.

  Slowly, the tray lowered to the countertop with the most beautiful cookies Jake had ever laid eyes on. They were plump and huge with massive chocolate blobs. He watched the woman pull off her mitts and gingerly pick one up, blowing on it. She took a bite and closed her eyes. Jake could almost taste the cookie just by seeing the happiness on her face.

  He jumped from the rock and beelined it back to the first pine tree, then the second, and when he thought it was safe, he vanished into the vines. Moving the fence board aside, he scooted through the hole into his own backyard. Running to his rope ladder, he climbed it in record time. Inside his tree house, he pulled the fabric across the entrance. He was shaking. Who was the woman next door? Was she a witch? If so, was she a good one, or a bad one? Should he tell Jenny or his father what he had seen?

  Jazmine slowly chewed a chocolate chip cookie. It tasted heavenly. When her baking attempt had failed, she'd been so upset she'd almost cried. Teacher-fairy had gone over and over the instructions for baking chocolate chip cookies. He'd said it was important to know because humans were especially fond of them, children in particular. He'd also said it might take a few tries to get it right, so using fairy magic was okay until then. That is, of course, without the knowledge of humans.

  Suddenly, she had a brilliant idea. "Of course!" she shouted. "I'll take these cookies to Jake and his dad this afternoon. That's how I'll meet them."

  Jake heard his dad calling his name. He was still in his tree house. Jenny had found him there earlier and brought him a sandwich when he'd refused to come down. She'd hated climbing the rope ladder. He didn't care.

  He didn't answer his father's call.

  A short time later he heard his dad calling him again. This time he was at the bottom of the tree. "Jake, you up there? You feeling okay? Jenny said you weren't quite yourself."

  Jake still didn't answer.

  "Jake, I know you're up there. Answer me, or I'm coming up!"

  Jake stuffed the airplane back in the bench seat. He didn't want his father climbing up and seeing he'd repaired it. "Yeah, what?" he called.

  "Don't use that tone of voice with me, Jake. What's up? Are you sick?"

  "Naw. Nothin's up. Can't a guy just hang out in his tree house?"

  "Well, you need to come down. I'm going to the store. Jenny's already gone home and I'll be gone too long to leave you here alone. Hurry up. I have some design modifications to work on when we get back."

  "I don't wanna go. I'm not a baby. You can leave me here. I'll stay in the tree house."

  "Not gonna happen, Jake. I'm leaving in fifteen minutes. Don't make me come looking for you again."

  "Rats," Jake whispered. He knew it was no use arguing with his father. He heard the French doors to the patio close. He considered taking off for the park, but didn't much feel like facing his dad's anger today. Pulling the curtain aside, he peeked toward the house next door. He didn't see anyone in the upstairs or downstairs windows. Making quick work of descending the ladder, he ran across the yard and into the house. He could hear his father in the kitchen opening and closing cupboards.

  "There you are. I'm glad you decided to obey. Run upstairs and wash. As soon as I figure out what we need, I'll be ready. Come on, hurry. Like I said, I have work to do."

  Jake started to protest again, but the doorbell rang; once, twice.

  "You expecting anyone, Jake?"

  "Nope."

  "It better not be someone trying to sell me something." Ryan closed the fridge and started toward the front door. It rang again. "Jeez, where's the fire?"

  Jake followed behind his dad. His dad opened the door.

  Jake sucked air!

  The witch lady from next door stood with a plate of cookies in her hands—awesome looking chocolate chip cookies! Jake froze a few feet behind his dad. He heard his dad softly curse and looked curiously at him.

  Ryan did a double take. No way could it be the nutcase from yesterday. But it was. He'd never forget those eyes. "What are you doing here?" he barked.

  "I…I…you live here?"

  "Yes, I live here. Now, what are you doing here?"

  "I…I…live next door. I made some cookies for you and J…your son."

  Ryan heard Jake make a strange noise and turned to look at him. His pallor was pale. "I asked you earlier if you were feeling sick. You are, aren't you." It was more a statement than a question.

  Jake nodded. Ryan turned back to the woman. "Listen, ma'am, we really didn't get off to a good start yesterday, and I don't have time to chit chat now. My son's not feeling well. Maybe another day we can iron out our differences." He started to close the door.

  "Wait! Here, take the cookies I made for you and J…your son."

  Jake made another choking sound.

  Ryan grabbed the platter of cookies thrust toward him and closed the door. He turned his attention to Jake and saw him staring at the cookies, his eyes bulging.

  "Son, maybe you're coming down with the flu. Hop on up to bed. We'll skip the grocery store. I'll put these cookies in the kitchen and be right up."

  Jake didn't argue with his father. He just went to his bedroom. He needed to think. Should he tell his father what he had seen? Naw—he wouldn't believe him anyway—not after seein' all the stuff Jake had tried to get away with lately. But what about the cookies—had the witch-lady put some kind of spell on them? What if his father was taking a bite even now?

  Jake jumped off his bed and ran toward the door. He couldn't let his father eat a cookie with a spell cast on it. Just when he reached for the doorknob, it opened. His father walked in.

  "Let me feel your forehead, son. Do you think you have a fever?"

  "No, Dad. Did you eat a cookie?"

  "No, but don't even ask for one. If you're not feeling well, it's the last thing you need. Now put your PJs on and climb into bed. The cookies will still be there tomorrow."

  Jake was so relieved his father hadn't eaten a cookie, he didn't even argue about being banished to bed.

  "Did you see the lady next door move in?" his dad asked.

  "No. But I saw her stuff delivered."

  "Well, Jake, believe it or not, I met her yesterday outside of Bend. She's a strange case. She was running across the 97 Highway—out by the High Desert Museum—and I almost hit her with my car. She was following some deer across the roadway. I stopped and chewed her out for her stupidity. I can't believe she's living next door. Like they say, 'it's a small world'."

  Jake was tempted to spill the beans on her, but his father suddenly stood and walked to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, he looked at the house next door. Shaking his head, he said, "Yep, she's a strange one."

  "Hey, Dad, do you think I could go down and get a book from the bookcase seein's as how I'm gonna be laid up for awhile? I was thinkin' 'bout that Hardy Boys book."

  "You're kidding. You mean you actually want to read a book?"

  "Yeah."


  "You crawl into bed and I'll get it for you."

  "No! I mean…I moved it. I can't remember 'zactly where. You check my room and I'll run down and check the den, 'kay?"

  Jake ran out of his bedroom and down the stairs before his father could object. Relieved that his dad didn't follow, he needed to work fast. He ran to the kitchen and saw the cookies on the platter. Without hesitation, he dumped them in the trash. Next, he ran to the den and grabbed the Hardy Boys book his father had bought him. In less than five minutes he was back in his room. His father, combing through a pile of toys, glanced up when he came in.

  "Good, you found it. Jake, you really need to be more organized. Your room is a dumpster dive. What's the matter?"

  "Ouch. My stomach hurts. When I went downstairs and saw all those cookies, my stomach hurt real bad; like I was gonna throw up. I threw the cookies in the trash. I couldn't stand lookin' at 'em."

  "Jake, what were you thinking? You could have just put them in the cabinet or ignored them and come back upstairs."

  "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm not thinkin' clear."

  Nine

  Jazmine was disappointed. Her great idea of meeting Jake and his father had failed. She needed to rethink her plan.

  Jake's father had said Jake wasn't feeling well. What was wrong with him? Now that she thought about it, Teacher-fairy had said humans were susceptible to illness. Was there anything she could do to help? What did humans do for other sick humans? Jazmine placed her chin in her hands and leaned her elbows on the dining room table.

  Suddenly, she sat up. She remembered something she'd read. Humans that weren't sick gave sick humans flowers. Cookies may not be her expertise, but flowers were. As a jasmyster, she was surrounded by flowers. Tomorrow, she would pick a beautiful bouquet and deliver it to Jake to make him well. Just thinking about the bouquet gave her shivers of excitement.

  Ryan woke early and entered Jake's room to check on him. Since Jake was snoring peacefully, he didn't disturb him. Closing his door softly, he jogged downstairs and out the front door to retrieve the Sunday newspaper. Immediately, he was distracted by a loud voice coming from across the street. Mrs. Bickers, still in her house robe and with a head full of curlers, was ranting at a young woman. The woman was his weird neighbor.

  "How dare you snip my roses! You're nothing but a thief! I'm calling the police to have you arrested!"

  "Oh, no, please don't do that! Let me explain. It will be okay when you understand. I've been picking flowers throughout the neighborhood. The flowers are for–"

  "You mean you've been stealing flowers from my neighbors, too!" Mrs. Bickers shrieked.

  "No, not stealing."

  Ryan had faced Mrs. Bickers' wrath before and felt empathy for his neighbor, even if she was an oddball. With long strides, he crossed the street and attempted to mediate the situation.

  "Good morning, Mrs. Bickers. What seems to be the problem?"

  Mrs. Bickers momentarily turned her fiery gaze on Ryan. "I caught this impertinent young woman snipping my prize roses. A few days in the hoosegow would be good for her. She…"

  "What's a hoosegow? If it will be good for me, then, of course, I want to go there."

  Ryan and Mrs. Bickers both turned unbelieving eyes on their new neighbor. Before things went from bad to worse, Ryan said, "Mrs. Bickers, what if…" he hesitated and turned to the young woman, "What's your name?"

  "Oh, my name is Jazmine, but my friends call me Jazzy."

  "Well, Jazmine, perhaps if you were to buy Mrs. Bickers some replacement flowers, and promise never to disturb her garden again, she'd let you slide this time."

  "Let her slide…my arse!" Mrs. Bickers shrieked again.

  "What are your favorite flowers?" Ryan pointedly asked the disgruntled woman, ignoring her stubbornness. "Are they roses?"

  "Of course they are? Can't you see my yard is full of them?"

  "What if Jazmine were to replace what she picked with rose bushes? Would you accept that?"

  Mrs. Bickers screwed up her nose and started to shake her head no.

  Ryan continued, "…and I also replace what she picked. That looks like about a dozen new bushes, Mrs. Bickers."

  Ryan groaned inwardly when she screwed up her face again. He was about to double the offer when she asked, "Ain't She Sweet?"

  "What?"

  Jazmine interrupted, "Oh, yes! Ain't She Sweet."

  Ryan felt like he had somehow entered the Twilight Zone. He had no idea what these women where talking about, and glanced dumbly from one to the other.

  Mrs. Bickers practically shouted, "Ain't She Sweet Hybrid Tea Roses! You young people sure are ignorant these days."

  Ryan started to point out that Jazmine was young and knew what she was talking about, but decided not to press his luck.

  Mrs. Bickers said, "Okay, I want a dozen Ain't She Sweets. If I don't get them by tonight, I'm calling the police and reporting her for stealing flowers."

  Jazmine said. "But, Mrs. Bickers, you don't know who they're for. You wouldn't be acting so mean if you only knew that they're…"

  "Mean! Who do you think you are, talking to me like that, young woman?"

  "I already told you, I'm Jazmine, but my friends call me…"

  Ryan grabbed Jazmine's arm and pulled her toward the street. He called, "Mrs. Bickers, you'll have your roses soon."

  "But…" Jazmine continued.

  Ryan urged her across the street. "Listen, you better hush or that lady will have you behind bars with no regrets. She's one of the most cantankerous old ladies I've ever met."

  Jazmine walked with him to his porch and set her huge bouquet on his porch swing. Ryan wanted to enjoy his newspaper and coffee without anymore drama and said brusquely, "The nursery probably doesn't open until eleven. Meet me back here then."

  Jazmine turned around in a circle, twice. The plant nursery was amazing. Breathing deeply, she savored the fragrances. The jasmysters and all the other flower-mysters were doing a marvelous job. She would praise them when she completed her assignment and returned to her clan. She forced her attention back to the task at hand.

  "We're looking for Ain't She Sweet Tea Roses," Ryan announced to the young clerk approaching them.

  The clerk glanced from Ryan to Jazmine, and back to Ryan. Her complexion turned pink, and she stuttered her response. "Th-there ov-over there." She pointed behind them.

  Jazmine was curious. What was wrong with the girl? Why was she looking at Ryan in such a strange manner?

  While she and Ryan followed the clerk to the side of the nursery, the answer popped into her mind. The girl was attracted to Ryan. Jazmine had learned all about the attraction between human males and human females from teacher-fairy.

  When the young woman stopped before a display of Ain't She Sweet Tea Roses, Jazmine focused on Ryan. She wanted to see why the young female was so attracted to him. Curious, she studied him. He was tall. His hair was light brown with streaks of blond. His eyes, the color of mahogany tree bark, had a disconcerting intensity. His skin was darkened by the sun. His weight seemed appropriate. His voice was deep and—she searched for a word—scratchy. His nose and jaw line were strong; his facial bones defined. The lower half of his face, darkened by male hair growth, was curiously appealing. In fact, the more Jazmine studied his physical appearance, the more she decided the young woman was justified in her attraction to him.

  "Those roses are how much! That's very expensive," Ryan exclaimed.

  "I-I know. D-do you want me to see if I c-can get you a discount?"

  Ryan could see that the clerk was discomforted for some reason and took pity on her. He was also aware of his neighbor's perusal of him. What the heck was wrong with her? He felt like a bug under a microscope. That's what he got for trying to save her from old lady Bickers. He should have left her to the cranky woman's nasty temper. Ryan put a finger under his T-shirt neckline and stretched it. The day was warmer than normal. He said to the clerk, "No, don't worry about a discount. We'll take a dozen of
the gallon containers." He sure hoped his new neighbor had money to pay for her half. If not, he would just pay for everything and write it off to stupidity. He needed to get home to check on his son. Earlier, when he'd told Jake about the encounter with Mrs. Bickers and his promise to replace her roses, Jake had talked him out of calling Jenny since he'd only be gone a few minutes. Right now, Ryan just wanted to pay for the damn roses, drop the plants off with Mrs. Bickers, and dump his crazy neighbor at her house.

  The clerk told them she would load the roses onto a cart and meet them at checkout. Gently grasping Jazmine's elbow, he led her toward the registers. He was close enough to smell her. She smelled like jasmine. She smelled wonderful! While they waited for the roses to be delivered, he cleared his throat, and asked, "Do you have any money to help pay for the roses? I noticed you're not carrying a purse."

  "Oh, yes. I have green paper…er money. Here."

  Ryan watched her withdraw a wad of bills from her jeans pocket and thrust it into his hand. She had a mixture of tens, twenties, and hundreds.

  "Do you always carry your money around like that?"

  "Yes, so far. Should I do it differently?"

  Oh-kay, thought Ryan.

  The young girl who had been helping them arrived at checkout with their roses. Ryan stared at the wadded money in his hand and tried to straighten it while another clerk rang up their purchase. When she called out the final price, Ryan almost choked. Mrs. Bickers had done this on purpose. No doubt, she knew how expensive these particular roses were.