by Reggi Allder
Where was Manny? Why wasn’t he here tonight?
“How many jobs do you plan to fill by the end of the year?” the council woman asked.
We hope to have the department head positions filled and possibly a third or more of the line crew as well.”
After that there were unexpectedly few questions from the council. But the people in the room took over the enquiry. It appeared there was some trepidation from the town’s people as they learned Wyatt planned to reopen the mill and bring new people to work in the quiet community.
Seeing only Wyatt’s point of view, she was taken by surprise at the response of the crowd. Even though jobs were urgently needed, people spoke with passion about maintaining the status quo. Strangers not needed as they would change the mix. Whatever that meant.
Was it code for “different” people not welcome? As long as she could remember, Sierra Creek had been a mix of Caucasian, Latin and Native Americans, a symbiotic relationship built by over a hundred years of living peacefully together. Perhaps because most were working class and middle class there was no person much below or above the others, so it succeeded.
A guy, only a few years older than she was, stood. “Most of you know me,” he said. “Wyatt and I went to school together. In Sierra Creek, children can play outdoors without worrying about strangers. People look out for each other’s kids. If mine fell off his bike and skinned his knee and I wasn’t there, he’d still be helped by the people in town. They know who he is and where he lives.”
“That’s fine.” Wyatt stood up too and turned toward the man. “This is the mill we are talking about. It has nothing to do with kids, except to make sure their parents might have a job if they need one.”
“Are you going to tell me we won’t have dangerous strangers coming to live here.”
“There’ll be some new people, but we think most of the jobs will be filled by people who live here already.”
“Wyatt, you don’t have any kids so what do you care?”
Anger flashed in Wyatt’s eyes. Was he thinking of Bobby?
“Why would you believe someone who needs a job would hurt your son? The new hirers may have kids of their own.”
“I’m just saying…” The man shrugged and sat down.
“This place needs some new blood,” another man shouted. “I for one, would like to see new folks walking around this burg.”
“My issue is traffic,” a gray haired senior citizen said. “For neigh on forty-five years I’ve been riding my horse into town a couple of times to week. You bring them workers to town with all their automobiles—pretty damned soon Main Street will need a stoplight. No riding my horse then. I might as well live in Sacramento. That’s all I got to say.”
“Hey, Jacob,” Wyatt greeted the man. “I know your horse is good transportation.”
Jacob grunted.
“The mill is on the north side of town, away from downtown. I don’t see any changes on the main drag, except maybe a few stores reopening.”
“I’d like new places to shop,” a teenaged girl yelled. “Wyatt, can I have a selfie with you before you leave?”
“I’ll have none of that, Missy,” the mayor admonished her.
Another young woman jumped up, her pregnant stomach leading the way. “Mr. Mayor, my man has to drive to Sacramento, rain or shine. Sometimes he has shift work and doesn’t get home until the middle of the night. I worry he might be so tired he gets in an accident on the way home. I’d have to raise our baby alone.” She gulped. “If the mill was open, he could work in Sierra Creek.”
The room was silent for a moment.
“Wyatt, you going to hire women?”
Amy couldn’t see who asked the question and didn’t recognize the voice.
“We’ll hire anyone who can do the job. If you have experience or are willing to learn come on by and fill out an application,” he answered without hesitation.
“I guess that means you’ll take men too. I used to work at the mill,” a man said.
Everyone in the room laughed.
“You know it, Harry. Come on by.”
People began to talk among themselves and the mayor silenced them. “I’ll take one more comment before we bring this meeting to a close.”
To Amy’s astonishment, Sophie raised her hand.
“Excuse me, mayor.”
“Mrs. Danelavich.”
“You all know me. I’m Sophie, the owner of the ice cream shop on Main Street. I’ve watched the changes in the town for more than thirty years.” She coughed and adjusted her black sweater, buttoning the last button. “I’ve seen the exodus of families who’ve left because the mill closed. Shuttered store fronts followed until Main Street, once flourishing, is a skeleton of itself. Now it seems to me those who stayed accepted it or maybe didn’t notice the transformation that’s happened.”
She hesitated. “I’m doing fine. But in my shop, I hear people talk. They’re desperate for work. They don’t want to move away, but if people can’t support their family, how can they stay?” She took a quick breath “Wyatt’s a good man and he cares about this community. Now maybe I only run a little store, but I see this mill as a chance to put the town back on its feet.” She sat and stared at the carpet, her cheeks turning red.
The crowd cheered.
When everyone calmed down the major shouted, “We’re not going to make any decisions tonight. We only wanted to hear what you all had to say. Thank you for coming and giving us your input. All comments will be taken into consideration.” He banged on the table. “Meeting adjourned.”
Wyatt was surrounded by people all talking to him at once. She waited, filled with pride at the way he’d handled himself. The council had to say yes to the to his plan. They just had to.
When it was apparent he was going to be a while, she walked out of the building with Vanna and Sophie. They said good night and she headed for the old Volvo parked up the street.
“Amy, where are you going? Wait up.”
Chapter 15
Wyatt caught Amy and leaned her back against a nearby building to let people exiting the council meeting pass. He nodded to those who acknowledged him.
When the street was clear, without a word he kissed her, coaxing her until she accepted him.
He suddenly stopped and stared at her, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I missed you, Amy.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I want you to know I’d be proud to wear the wedding ring you bought.”
“Wyatt, I was miserable with the way we left things.” She touched his face. “The band is just a piece of jewelry. It’s unimportant. I care about you—us. You don’t have to wear it,” she whispered, holding him near.
With her mouth open to speak, he captured it again, letting his tongue dance with hers. She forgot where they were or who might be watching. The only thing that mattered was Wyatt. Her heart pounding, breathing faster, the embrace continued as she pulled him closer.
“Informative meeting, Wyatt.”
Wyatt backed away from her, cleared his throat, and mumbled, “Uh, thanks, Mayor Breen.”
Her hand flew to her lips as she watched the mayor enter his car and drive from the curb.
“Come on, Amy, let’s go home.”
Home, was there a more beautiful word?
“My truck’s down the block.” His strong arm guided her.
“What am I thinking? I brought my car and I have to get Bobby. He’s staying at a friend’s house.”
“Okay.” His grin vanished. “See you in a few minutes.”
She could see by the slump of his shoulders, he was disappointed they couldn’t ride to the farmhouse together. Still, he walked her to the Volvo.
“Drive carefully,” he said
In the rear-view mirror, she saw him waving.
During his absence, she’d imagined calling all their friends to tell them the wedding was off and had pictured bleak years without him.
He cared. It’s going to be a
ll right—if nothing else goes wrong.
***
“Bobby, did you have a good time?” Amy asked as she tightened his seat belt.
“Yeah. Mommy, he has lots of blocks. We made a tower. It was real fun until his little brother knocked it down.”
“Oh, too bad, but the little guy is only a toddler.”
She stared the engine and drove toward home.
“It’s okay cause we made a bigger one after his brother went to bed.”
She laughed and wondered what it would be like to manage two kids at the same time. Don’t go there. She was reminded she’d made a decision, no more babies. Not with the chance that the child would have celiac as Bobby did. The memory of the nights she’d paced with him crying in her arms, haunted her. Back then, she hadn’t known what was wrong or how to help him. She couldn’t put another child through that suffering. She took a deep breath and chided herself, think about what you do have, not what can never be.
Wyatt was home and Bobby was well. Things were fine on the farm with the planting of the new trees about to start anytime. She ignored the pang in her heart when she considered never knowing what Wyatt’s and her child would look like—the baby would never exist. Stop. It’s the right choice. Her life was fuller than many. She should be satisfied and count her blessings.
When Bobby stopped talking, she thought he’d fallen asleep, because it was past his bedtime. Following the highway, she turned right on the rural two lane road that led to Granny’s farm.
Farmers lived by early to bed and early to rise. At this hour of the night, Amy found the Volvo was the only vehicle traveling on the road. The few farmhouses she passed appeared dim. The road looked darker than usual without the guidance of the moon. Fog filtered through pine trees and did little to help her see. She slowed in time to let a deer cross in front of her car. The buck paused to stare for a second, then gracefully jumped over a nearby fence and disappeared.
“Stop the car. Mommy, stop!”
“It’s okay, honey. The deer got away.”
“No, Mommy. I’m going to throw up!”
As the car screeched to a halt, Amy undid her seat belt. By the time the brake was set, Bobby had jumped out of the backseat and disappeared into the darkness.
A gust of wind slapped her. She shivered, but ignored the jacket on the front seat, and grabbed her backpack instead. Her son retched. She followed the sound and found her way to the dirt shoulder of the road.
“Baby, are you okay?”
“I’m not a baby.” He gagged. “I’m a big guy. That’s what Daddy calls me.”
“Of course.” Wyatt appeared to understand how important is was for a boy to believe he was grown. She took a couple of tissues from her pocket. “Wipe your mouth, honey. Do you think you can ride now?”
“I guess.”
She hugged him, then held his hand. “Let’s get in the car.”
With his seat belt buckled, she cleaned his face, and handed him a fresh bottle of water from her backpack, glad she had restocked the bag.
The first inclination was to quiz him on what he’d eaten tonight and renew the food lecture she’d given many times about what he could and was forbidden to eat. She resisted. He knew the routine, even at five years old. No point in causing more upset.
“I know I have celiac, but I only ate what my friend had,” he cried, appearing to anticipate her unasked question. “It tasted good.”
“I’m sure, but you can’t eat everything others kids do.”
“It’s not fair.” He kicked the back of the seat.
“No, it’s not.” She hesitated. “That’s why I sent food with you and there was enough to share.”
“I wanted what he ate.”
What could she say? It broke her heart, but she couldn’t fix the problem. This would have to be an object lesson. A harsh one that would plague him, but keep him healthy when he learned to manage his disease.
“Daddy’s home from Seattle.” She changed the subject. “He’s waiting for us.”
“I missed him. Can I stay up?”
“You’ve had a long day and tomorrow’s a school day.” She paused when she saw his sad expression. “Okay, for a little while.” She started the car.
“Thanks, Mommy.” He settled down and rode in silence.
He’d be on his own more often as a teenager. Would he deny the normal urge to eat junk food like his friends? She prayed he’d have the strength.
***
An hour and a half later, Bobby slept on the sofa near Wyatt. She smiled remembering the excited reaction they’d had when they saw each other. Wyatt had hugged Bobby and her son had talked nonstop, grinning the whole time. They’d played a board game and paged through the book of dog breeds together while they dreamed of having a puppy.
“Sit down, Amy.” Wyatt patted the empty seat on the couch next to him.
She leaned against him and he put his arm around her. “Good to be on the farm, you have no idea how much I missed my family.”
She smiled and snuggled closer. “I think I might. You must be exhausted, traveling and the council meeting…”
“I’m not much of a public speaker, but I guess it went okay. I expect the mayor understands the town has a lot riding on the outcome.”
“Daddy,” Bobby sat up and yawned.
“Hey, Big Guy, let’s get you to bed.” He picked him up and carried him toward the staircase. Amy followed, grabbing her son’s teddy bear on the way. She should stay with him in case his stomach got upset in the middle of the night. She hoped Wyatt would understand.
When Bobby brushed his teeth, and put on his pajamas, she tucked him in bed.
After his book she said, “Sleep tight, I’ll be right here if you need me.”
An hour later she came out of the bedroom for a glass of water. Wyatt sat on the bench in the hallway waiting for her.
“Is he okay?”
“Fine, but to be sure, I’m going to spend the night in his room.”
“Let me take over while you get some sleep.”
“You don’t have to.” Thank goodness, she stopped before adding, he’s my son, not yours. Where had that come from? She wanted him to be Bobby’s father, and it was obvious they loved each other. Was she over protective as Wyatt had once accused her of being? Maybe she needed to let go—a little.
“Amy, honey, don’t keep me away.” His intense voice come out as a whisper in the late night. “Can’t you see I want to help—to be involved? Let me be a real dad with all the trials and tribulations as if he were born to me.” He hesitated. “I’m not a stranger. Don’t guard him as if I were.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“It’s all right. You’ve had to be mom and dad for so long it’s natural, but I’m here now.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Get some rest. I’ll tell you if he wakes up and wants you.”
***
Amy woke as the sun came through the window and it looked like a beautiful day on the horizon. The storm, in so many ways, was over. Time to help Bobby get ready for school.
When she entered her son’s bedroom, he slept holding his favorite stuffed bear. Wyatt, with his long legs sprawled out in front of him, dozed in a small chair. She grinned. She must buy a larger one if he planned to make a habit of staying in the room with Bobby.
After breakfast, Wyatt returned to the cottage and she walked Bobby to the bus stop. A good night’s sleep and the right breakfast had him back to his happy self. Today she’d made sure he had his favorite lunch with him. No chance he’d be tempted to try a friend’s snack. He talked about the puppy he and Wyatt would own someday. She listened without interrupting him. With a sigh of relief, she waved as the school bus drove down the two lane road.
The sunshine warmed the morning. Birds, in the trees lining the lane, sang. Spring. Soon the foliage would blossom perfuming the air surrounding the farmhouse. What was the old saying about happiness being found in a person’s own backyard?
In the country kitchen,
she surveyed the dishes piled high on the counter near the sink. Should she ignore them? Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head, too many days had gone by already. Granny had often told her to whistle while she worked. Amy had never been good at it. Even so, in her grandmother’s memory, she tried.
You still can’t whistle. She giggled and turned on classic rock and let it blare. If she still lived in San Francisco, by now her landlord would be telling her to turn down the sound. The farm belonged to her. She increased the volume and threw her hand in the air, “raising the roof” and jumped as she’d done at concerts. Shouting many of the words, she sang along. If she didn’t remember the lyrics, la, la was thrown in to cover any missing phrase. While she danced to a favorite hit, she cleared the breakfast dishes and wiped the table, afterward tossing the sponge overhand into the sink. “Score. Three points.” She laughed.
In jeans, his chest bare, and hair mussed, a wet strand falling over his right eye, Wyatt came in from the cottage. He grinned and stood tall and more virile than ever.
“Amy, you’re in a good mood.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I took a shower and realized I left my clean shirts here in the dryer.”
Drops of moisture glistened on his abs. She should be used to seeing him without his shirt. He worked hard in the country heat and often without a top. But…
“Honey, you all right?” he shouted over the music. “Honey?”
“Yeah. More than that.” Her mouth opened and her face heated. A yearning for him stirred in her as she stared. “I didn’t expect anyone to hear me singing.”
“I’m not anyone.” His expression told her he wanted her too. He grinned. “Dance with me.” Locking her in his grasp, he swayed and spun her away from him and back again. With his arms holding her waist they danced hip to hip as they had the night of his boss’s birthday party at the swanky hotel in Sacramento.
“I’m covered in soap. I was doing the dishes.” She tried to pull away to find a towel.
“I love cleanliness.” He kissed the nape of her neck, still refusing to release her. “Fresh,” he whispered in her ear, sending a shiver of desire shooting through her.
