Jules dragged the mower home, surprised Bob had taken credit. But then, Marsha, with her Stonehenge cash register, took plastic, even if it was the old-fashioned slidy thing. How many times already had she asked customers if they’d like to keep their carbon? Most people didn’t even know what that was.
Armed with Bob’s instructions, she positioned the lever on full choke, cranked it a couple times, moved it to half-choke and the engine sputtered to life. A-mowing she would go.
After a good twenty minutes, Jules began to wonder if the thing had wheels. The grass was tall and the mower rode low which required a great deal of pushing power. She frequently paused and tipped it to keep from killing the motor. Reconsidering her wisdom of rejecting a self-propelled one, she swiped her sweaty brow, when the mower sputtered, coughed, and died.
She was almost relieved to have a break as sweat stung her eyes. Almost. Possibly the lawn machine felt as tired as she. Sitting down on the concrete step, she realized the entire front lawn was done. Perfect. She’d much rather kick and batter a stubborn lawn mower in the backyard. She tapped her tooth with her fingernail. Would the doggone thing start again? Suddenly, she tasted gasoline and convulsed into spitting fit before wiping her mouth on her sweaty sleeve. Yuck. Yes, from pan to fire.
She pulled the tiny gadget behind the house.
“You’d better start,” she admonished with her finger.
Full choke. Crank, half choke, crank, crank, crank. Nothing. No more than a sputter. Okay, deep breath. Full choke, crank, half choke, crank, crank…she lost count. The smell of gasoline seemed everywhere. She gritted her teeth and pulled harder. Her back screamed, her face throbbed. She finally threw the pull string and it dutifully ripped into place. Sucking wind, she struggled for the porch. Great, just great. She sat heavily.
“Well, that’s just fine and dandy. Hey, Bob, your mower isn’t working,” Jules growled. Thirty days, smirty days. That dumbhead brand name engine hadn’t even run thirty minutes. Now, she’d have to drag the hunk-a-junk up to Main Street, and her backyard still wouldn’t be mowed. She stomped in the house and took a shower. As far as she was concerned, the broken mower could sit in permanent time-out. And when Bob Jenkins sat at the counter sparring with Sally, he was gonna hear it.
Later, dressed in comfortable cotton sweats and a t-shirt, she stepped out onto the back porch, her clean hair wrapped in a towel. Through slits, she surveyed the rebellious red machine. It aggravated her to own a non-mowing mower, a definite oxymoron. No, no oxy. Just moron. Bob was a moron, the lawnmower was a moron, and this town was a moron. At this rate, her backyard would vine over into a jungle. Then once cut, the lawn would come up thick and bristly like straw.
She sat, closed her eyes, and let the sun warm her face. Good grief, she was freaking out about grass. How’d she ever raise Hannah with her calm disposition? A robin piped from the honeysuckle bush at the back of the yard. What had gotten into her? She’d acted like a spoiled child. Tomorrow, she’d calmly approach Bob.
An engine came closer and paused in front of her house. It revved and cut. Her eyes opened. Was someone here or at her neighbors? Had to be next door. She pulled the towel off and began combing through her hair. In mid-stroke, Andi came bounding around the corner.
“See, Daddy, I told you. She’s back here. Hi, Jules.”
Andi bounced a couple more times, pulling someone. When he appeared, he stood tall with tousled dark hair, a bit too long and loose, and as he drew closer, she noticed stubble darkening a square chin. But it was his eyes that grabbed her attention. They were as clear as a summer sky. Oh, dear, this wasn’t a good time to meet someone new. But she was caught. Sighing, she stood and held out her hand. Wet hair swung to the forefront. For the sake of Andi, she’d do her best.
“Hello, I’m Jules. You must be Andi’s father.” Smooth as clockwork. Just like open house the day before school.
His hand engulfed hers. “I’m sorry to drop in on you, but Andi hasn’t stopped talking about coming for a week.”
“Well, I’m glad she brought you this time instead of sneaking out while you’re asleep.” Jules eyed Andi who sheepishly leaned into her father’s leg.
“Yes, she and I had a long talk about never doing that again, didn’t we?” He brushed the stray hair back on his daughter’s head, and she nodded in agreement. “I just wanted to meet you and make sure it’s all right for her to see the fish once in a while. An older lady used to live here, and Andi would visit. I’m afraid she’s grown fond of visiting the fish. I’m sorry if she’s caused any trouble.”
A ghost of a smile haunted his handsome features. It snagged her, and she stared. Hollowness lodged there. Pain? She tugged her eyes away and stared at the ground. A face reflecting unhappy memories was all too familiar.
She cleared her throat. “No trouble. As a matter of fact, she’s quite enjoyable. I used to be a teacher, and I miss having kids about.”
“Really?” He squinted and gave her the once over.
“I’d be glad to give you some references if you’d like. A person can’t be too careful with children.” He relaxed and turned his head to the yard. His glance fell to the outlaw lawnmower.
“Hey, you’ve got an old Comet. I haven’t seen one of those since I was a kid. That’s practically an antique.”
“Yeah.” She stretched the word, indicating the opposite. “A broken antique. I’m taking it back tomorrow.”
He walked toward the obstinate thing as he spoke. “Maybe it just needs an adjustment. My neighbor works on mowers.”
He leaned down, and Andi skipped to the pond.
“Looky, Daddy, it’s a calico. They’re not that common.” She grinned at Jules.
Andi’s father tested this and moved that. Finally he stood and glanced at Jules. “You’re out of gas.”
Instantly, Jules propelled herself forward to glare in the hole he indicated. “I’m what?”
Her mouth opened as she stared in. Gas. Just gas? Her brows furrowed. The lawn could’ve been finished. He gave a ripple of laughter.
“Here I was thinking I might not be able to help, but I’m pretty good at spotting an empty gas tank.” His grin stretched crooked.
She crossed her arms. He didn’t have to act so smug.
“To think I could’ve had this lawn done. Now, I’ll have to do it tomorrow. Only I’ll need a gas can first.” Wow, she was a world-class goober.
“Actually, that’s just where Andi and I came from. I’ve got two big cans of gas in the back of the truck.” He started around the house.
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s no trouble.” He disappeared around the corner.
He returned, toting a large, red gas container with a yellow spout. In no time, he had it filled up.
“Well, thank you. I should pay you something…”
But he vanished again. Jules bit her lip. She wanted to crank the engine to see if it’d start. But she couldn’t with Andi and her father here. Hadn’t the no-gas thing been humiliating enough?
Directly he strode back, and to her amazement, he pulled the rope. The mower seemed reluctant to start, but it sputtered to life. He tipped it away from them and let it speed up. Before she knew it, he began mowing the lawn. A complete stranger. Andi ran up on the porch and Jules followed her. As the yard was microscopic, it only took a few minutes, his long legs eating up the distance. At last he killed the engine and walked toward them.
“Thank you. You shouldn’t have done that. Let me pay you.”
He raised his dark brows and grinned. “That took like ten minutes. Besides, you’re gonna put up with this little thing nagging you about fish. Seems a fair trade. Let’s go, Peaches. We need to leave the lady alone.” They started around the house and Jules trailed them.
“I didn’t get your name.”
He nodded as he turned. “That’s right. I’m Rhett, Rhett Carsen.”
Not a Bob, a Bill, or a Dan. Yay.
* * *
5:02. Jules grunted. Yet time had zoomed by. Her work days fell into a pattern. Same people, same building. Now, however, Jules’ daily walk home included a little detour past the barber’s pole, post office and finally around the block next to the tall brick structure. It whispered to her, and something inexplicable filled her. Some days, she’d pause and gaze. Other times, she’d study the sidewalk in front of her toes.
She saw more of Andi. Her father brought her by a couple of times to view the fish. Jules even bought food to let the little pixie throw the pellets in the pond. Andi, always full of chatter, made Jules laugh. They never stayed long. But the visits brightened her days.
Jules organized more stuff, emptied a few boxes, and arranged important items on the top of containers in clear view. She still had no shelves, but at least she could see some of it. She got a library card. Ah, that was worth its weight in gold. Among the books, she used the computer, perused the newspaper, or just sat in a windowed alcove and read. It turned out to be a lovely place to spend empty hours on her days off. Slowly, the pain and sadness dulled.
The next Monday, Jules detected a commotion coming from the backyard. It sounded like a high pitched motor. From the bedroom, she meandered down the hall and gazed out the glass doors. Andi stood at the window with her nose pressed against the pane, her hands on either side of her face. Beyond her, Rhett swung a weed eater through the overgrown grass at the border of the yard. Jules slid the door open
“What, may I ask, is your father doing?” Jules made a mock demand with a smile.
Andi grinned, her almond shaped eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s weed-wackin’. Haven’t you ever seen a weed trimmer before?”
She parked her fists on her tiny hips, and tilted her head to the side like she was the adult.
“Your dad is spoiling me. First he mowed my yard and now this.”
His lithe form moved easily in knee shorts and a royal-blue Duke tank. He caught her staring and waved. She raised her hand. Awkward. Jeebers. Was she fourteen? She rolled her eyes.