THE RENTER
By Celia Jolley
Just for Fun Fiction
It was their third date. She was as nervous as a teenager, which was silly. At twenty-five, she had achieved a lot of her goals, getting her degree, teaching art at the junior college level, everything except getting married. Thus, the date. One date meant you were curious. Two dates that you were interested. Three dates? Somehow she was conflicted. Nice guys did not automatically mean they were keepers, right? Or was it like the saying that said after three days fish and company stinks and need to be tossed out? Did that include men after three dates?
She would soon find out since Violet had gotten up her nerve to ask Jeff to come to her house by the lake for a barbecue and some fishing. Well, by house she meant her studio apartment, one that used to be a boat house. But down by the dock was a deck with a charcoal grill, nothing fancy. Violet liked to cook a lot of her meals there and eat looking out at the lake. It was so pretty. Conversation with Jeff was easy. So now she flipped the burgers and checked the picnic table to make sure everything else was ready. She smugly smiled. She had not forgotten anything.
She would soon find out since Violet had gotten up her nerve to ask Jeff to come to her house by the lake for a barbecue and some fishing. Well, by house she meant her studio apartment, one that used to be a boat house. But down by the dock was a deck with a charcoal grill, nothing fancy. Violet liked to cook a lot of her meals there and eat looking out at the lake. It was so pretty. Conversation with Jeff was easy. So now she flipped the burgers and checked the picnic table to make sure everything else was ready. She smugly smiled. She had not forgotten anything.
Anything that is, except that she had a new landlord, one she'd never met 'till now.
"Hey, what are you doing here? This is private property, and you are trespassing!" The man charged down the hill bellowing like a bull.
Mr. Sorenson's lab ran up to the new man showing all his gums in a silly grin as the new landlord held his plate of raw steaks up out of reach. But Violet was so tongue tied it took her a moment to swallow and explain. She was mortified and wondered what her date thought.
"Howdy-do." Her cheeks got even hotter. Why did her vernacular slip back to her Appalachian roots when she was nervous? "I'm your renter. She pointed to her studio apartment. Didn't your uncle tell you?"
Violet missed Mr. Sorenson something fierce. The old gent had been so kind to her, renting the place to her for next to nothing. Evidently this was the nephew who inherited the property, the fine house above right down to this boat house, deck and dock.
"No, it's not in any of the papers. This is the first I've heard of it."
The young woman clinging to him giggled, then snorted! She tried to cover it up by a fake laugh, but Violet had heard her and couldn't help but stare. Mr. Sorenson's lawyer had notified her that her former landlord's nephew would inherit, a man who taught English literature at the university. She wasn't so much surprised that he had some woman hanging on to him like a barnacle, but a snorter in red high heels? As for her new landlord, she could hardly look past his intimidating scowl.
She forced a smile. "We can move our picnic up to my place. Looks like these burgers are ready anyway. Want to help me Jeff? Put the fixings and the chips and potato salad on the kitchen counter then we can sit in the deck chairs in front of the boat house and eat." Mr. Sorenson's lab bounded back to her side.
"Sure. Nice to meet you folks," Jeff kindly said even though there had been no introductions.
As Violet moved the hamburger patties off the grill and onto a plate, her new landlord moved over closer and said, "We'll have to talk, later. I expected to use the boat house as a boat house, not an apartment. Besides, you're a liability, one I don't want to have to fool with no matter what my uncle had arranged with you. You can take this as your first eviction notice."
Violet could not look up which made it harder to blink back the threatening tears from where they pooled in her eyes. "We'll talk," she forced out hoarsely around the lump in her throat, "but I'll expect to see it in writing first."
After removing themselves from the deck, they now had a front row seat of the man grilling his steaks alongside corn on the cob and veggie kabobs with one hand while his girlfriend hung on his other arm. She and Jeff balanced their plates on their laps and ate silently.
Finally he said, "This is good potato salad, Vi."
She hated when someone shortened her name like that, but she forced herself to smile and say, "Thank you, Jeff. Sorry, but it doesn't look like we'll be fishing today after all."
"You can keep the worms if you want. They'll last awhile in your frig. Just don't forget that it's fish bait in the Styrofoam container, not leftovers," he chuckled.
Violet bit her tongue from making a wise crack. Instead, she watched the couple on the deck as he brushed off the persnickety gal's seat at the picnic table as if Violet hadn't already wiped it down earlier. The woman tried to look like she was a model on the runway walking with hips swaying, but then her heel got stuck in between some deck planks. It threw her forward onto her knees with a scream. Violet had to admit she had a laugh in her heart and bit her lip to keep it from escaping. He helped her up and wet a napkin for her skinned knees before leading the now limp lady to her seat. Miss Snort just sat there waiting to be served as if she'd been severely injured. Mr. Professor had not lost his scowl yet, she observed. Maybe he was one of those kind who only smiled after his stomach was full, like a grouchy bear coming out of hibernation.
"Sorry, the view of the lake is ruined," she managed to say to her date. Violet looked over and saw that Jeff's plate was empty. "Want another one?"
"No thanks, I'm full."
He must have eaten quickly. She still had half a burger to go. Now what?
"No thanks, I'm full."
He must have eaten quickly. She still had half a burger to go. Now what?
"I can still see the water. It's sure pretty," Jeff smiled with a piece of lettuce stuck in his teeth.
Violet grinned back almost perversely as she stared at that piece of lettuce.
Violet grinned back almost perversely as she stared at that piece of lettuce.
Just then a fish jumped as if rubbing it in that their fishing expedition had been called off. Sitting on the dock and wetting a line was one of her favorite things to do, especially at this time of day, dusk when the fish liked to bite. It usually was so peaceful, but that persnickety gal had begun to squeal and swat herself from head to toe. Mosquitoes. With a sigh, Violet stood up, dipped into her house and came out with bug spray. She walked leisurely down to the deck as the man scowled at her again until he saw what she brought.
"Thank you. I'd forgotten how badly they bite this time of day," he said swatting his neck. Then ignoring Violet, he ordered, "Stand up Joelle so I can spray you with mosquito repellent."
"Bug spray? I think not. She grabbed her plate and tried to run back up to his house. Have you ever seen someone try to run uphill on their tiptoes while wearing heels to avoid another fall through the deck event? It was enough to almost make Violet snort.
The professor sighed and picked up his plate to head up the hill after the lady fair. "Sorry about the mess. I'll clean it up tomorrow," he mumbled to her as he left.
She picked up her can of mosquito spray and returned to where Jeff stood waiting. The lab who had adopted her after Mr. Sorenson died stayed behind to scrounge under the table for food droppings.
"Need some?" Violet held out the can of spray.
"Need some?" Violet held out the can of spray.
"No thanks. I think I'll head on out. Thanks for the supper, Vi. It was really good."
"You're welcome. Sorry for all the disruptions."
"Say nothing of it. See you Sunday."
"Sunday then."
She got a dishrag and washed the picnic table clean and made sure nothing was left out to tempt the raccoons. Sure those critters were fun to watch, but they usually got into a snarling- hissing fight over food. It was better to leave them to their woodsey scavagerings than waiting for scraps of people food.
As she washed her dishes, Violet had plenty to think about. She thought about Jeff. They were friends but decided it would never be more. No more dates. Then she thought about her new landlord, the mean professor. How dare he evict her!
"Oh Lord you know, I have no friend like you. Please don't let that mean man kick me out. You know how much I love it here," she prayed out loud as a few tears dripped into the soap suds.
The next morning she got up and called the dog. Usually he came as soon as the food hit the dish, but not today. She walked out in the yard and called again. She finally saw him bouncing down the hill toward her reminding her of Tiger in "Winnie the Pooh." He began leaping and dancing around the bowl in her hand until she put it down. "Traitor," she said with a sneer. "If he's feeding you too, you'll be one fat dog."
The dog didn't even spare her a glance. Violet sighed. Saturday mornings were her best time to paint so she went in and put on an oversized shirt dappled with every color from her pallet. By the time she was finished for the day, her shirt wasn't the only thing dabbed with paint. There was a swatch of pink on her cheek and slash of blue on her neck while her hands were a rainbow of colors. She was just washing her paint brushes out when her landlord showed up. Well, she could scowl as well as he could she figured.
"Good morning," she clipped with a tight jaw.
"I told you we need to talk."
She had yet to see him smile though Lars the dog sat between them grinning looking first at her then him.
Violet looked down and asked, "Are you feeding him too?"
"No...yes, just a little when he begs."
Her head jerked up. "I never took you for a soft touch. Don't worry, I'll feed him so you won't have to worry about it."
"That's not what I came here to say. I've been looking forward to keeping my canoe in that boat house."
"It's there."
"What do you mean it's there?"
"It's hanging from the ceiling," she waved her arm inviting him in.
He tossed her a glance, strode in like he owned the place-which he did-and looked up to see it hanging from the ceiling sure enough, much to his surprise.
"Your uncle always liked to keep it there. He appreciated me helping him get it down when he wanted to paddle around the lake."
"I can't be kept to your whims of when you want me to come in this place. I want access to the canoe whenever the urge hits me to go out on the water, more than likely before the sun's coming up in the loaming."
"In the loaming? Is that one of those fancy Jane Austen-ish English literature terms?"
He walked into the light filled room and started flipping through her stack of finished canvases before looking up at her. "Nice."
What was Violet supposed to say? Thanks for a weak compliment? So she only raised her eyebrows and continued to rub Lars' ears. Then she spoke before she thought. "I'll make a bargain that no matter when you want to use the canoe, I'll help you get it down. I'll even give you a key for when I'm not here. So you see, I can keep my art studio and apartment, and you can have your boat house, one in the same, with rent money on the side for you."
"If they are so hopelessly backward as you infer, they sure knew how to pick some of the purtiest mountains on God's green earth to call home. I've always thought that the inspiration for my art came from those roots, from that time living in the beauty of those mountains. Perhaps if one could separate them from their liquor, like 'if they lost their appetite for thirstin',' it would be one of the best places to settle down in the world."
"You couldn't make the salary you make now if you lived up in those mountains."
"That's true, but it wouldn't keep me from painting and selling my art in other places."
"Then why don't you?" he grinned without mirth.
"I found that I love teaching, the thrill of passing on my passion for art. How about you? Did your Appalachian mother instill a hunger for reading in you?"
Though he nodded, he still narrowed his eyes at her and merely said, "Better get to bed early tonight because I'll be here bright and early tomorrow morning for that canoe."
"Fine," then she couldn't help herself and blurted out, "But you are welcome to stay and have poke sallet and soddy with me for lunch."
After standing up to cheer for a touchdown, Violet started to sit down when someone stomped on her toes with high heels. "Ouch!" She cried before falling back in her seat.
"Oh, did I step on your toes? Sorry." Then the woman giggled and snorted. "Oh, if it isn't the boat house squatter."
Violet bit her tongue before calling her Ms. Snort, or worse. Then she glanced up and saw the professor. It was then she realized that she didn't even know his name, only that he was Mr. Sorenson's nephew. For some reason he just stared at her while Miss Snort in high heels had added insult to injury before moving on to sit by her friends joining in their smirking` party.
"What are you doing here?" he gruffed like the troll under the bridge in the "Three Billy Goats Gruff" fairy tale.
Violet glanced around like she was confused, "Isn't this open to the public? Oh, that's right, I just happen to have season passes and have a right to be here."
"A season pass?"
"Down in front! Even you, professor," a man added sheepishly when he saw who he was yelling at.
"I think you'd better sit." Violet jerked him down to the empty seat beside her. "Why are you so shocked? My brother played football here a few years back, and I've been a fan ever since. I'm as loyal as they come. How about you?"
"I like football. Where's Jeff? Is this his seat?"
"No. I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since last night, but I'll probably run into him at church tomorrow."
"Is your foot okay?"
"Ahh, it'll be okay before I'm married."
"What? Are you and Jeff...?"
"Of course not!"
"Well I think it's mighty strange you invited him to a date while engaged to somebody else then," he glowered.
"What are you talking about?" Then realization dawned. He was referring to her saying taking it literally. "Oh, that," she waved his words away. "It's just an expression I grew up with. My grannie said it all the time, you know up there in the holler."
"Phew, I was beginning to think you were a two-timing hussy."
Violet's hand was inching to slap something. Instead she "accidentally" knocked her Coke on his lap. "Oh my goodness, how did that happen?"
She heard the gasp of those around her, but especially coming from his little fan club in heels down the row. For goodness sakes, who wears high heels to barbecues and football games anyway? Just then one of Violet's friends was walking by, so she grabbed her and said, "Oh Charlotte, I've been saving this seat for you so I could ask you about our next young adult event. Sorry, Mr. Landlord, but you'll need to move. See you in the morning." She gave him a finger wave as he stalked off holding a football schedule open in front of himself trying in vain to hide his soaking.
The next morning she got up and called the dog. Usually he came as soon as the food hit the dish, but not today. She walked out in the yard and called again. She finally saw him bouncing down the hill toward her reminding her of Tiger in "Winnie the Pooh." He began leaping and dancing around the bowl in her hand until she put it down. "Traitor," she said with a sneer. "If he's feeding you too, you'll be one fat dog."
The dog didn't even spare her a glance. Violet sighed. Saturday mornings were her best time to paint so she went in and put on an oversized shirt dappled with every color from her pallet. By the time she was finished for the day, her shirt wasn't the only thing dabbed with paint. There was a swatch of pink on her cheek and slash of blue on her neck while her hands were a rainbow of colors. She was just washing her paint brushes out when her landlord showed up. Well, she could scowl as well as he could she figured.
"Good morning," she clipped with a tight jaw.
"I told you we need to talk."
She had yet to see him smile though Lars the dog sat between them grinning looking first at her then him.
Violet looked down and asked, "Are you feeding him too?"
"No...yes, just a little when he begs."
Her head jerked up. "I never took you for a soft touch. Don't worry, I'll feed him so you won't have to worry about it."
"That's not what I came here to say. I've been looking forward to keeping my canoe in that boat house."
"It's there."
"What do you mean it's there?"
"It's hanging from the ceiling," she waved her arm inviting him in.
He tossed her a glance, strode in like he owned the place-which he did-and looked up to see it hanging from the ceiling sure enough, much to his surprise.
"Your uncle always liked to keep it there. He appreciated me helping him get it down when he wanted to paddle around the lake."
"I can't be kept to your whims of when you want me to come in this place. I want access to the canoe whenever the urge hits me to go out on the water, more than likely before the sun's coming up in the loaming."
"In the loaming? Is that one of those fancy Jane Austen-ish English literature terms?"
"You are correct."
"I may live in a boat house, but I'm not completely ignorant, Sir Knows-A-Lot."
"Alright, since that's settled," he sneered, "I'm giving you six weeks notice." He turned his head and looked around.
Lars the lab whined and sidled up to her. The dog pushed her hand up so she would pet him. So she did. At least that helped to calm her.
"You're an artist?"
"You could say that," she bristled. "I teach art at the local community college. Your uncle helped me open up the attached shed with access to my studio apartment. As you can see by using French doors and old windows to let the light in, it's a perfect art studio."
He walked into the light filled room and started flipping through her stack of finished canvases before looking up at her. "Nice."
What was Violet supposed to say? Thanks for a weak compliment? So she only raised her eyebrows and continued to rub Lars' ears. Then she spoke before she thought. "I'll make a bargain that no matter when you want to use the canoe, I'll help you get it down. I'll even give you a key for when I'm not here. So you see, I can keep my art studio and apartment, and you can have your boat house, one in the same, with rent money on the side for you."
He almost smiled. "Shrewd. I'll give you a month and see how you can live up to your side of the bargain. I think I'll be hankering for wetting a paddle bright and early. See you in the morning."
She grabbed his hand and slapped a key in it. "There. 'Hankering?' Did you find that in your English literature too?"
"No. It's from my mother's Appalachian roots, her native tongue." The man finally fully smiled. "Surprised?"
"Yes. My mother grew up there as well. In fact, I lived up in a holler for awhile growing up when my pa left us at my grannie's and took off. After he divorced my ma, she eventually fell in love and married a pastor who came to our small community. I help to support their ministry. Goodness knows the mountain people can't afford to."
"Do-gooders have been trying to help them for over a hundred years, with little to show for it," he sneered.
"If they are so hopelessly backward as you infer, they sure knew how to pick some of the purtiest mountains on God's green earth to call home. I've always thought that the inspiration for my art came from those roots, from that time living in the beauty of those mountains. Perhaps if one could separate them from their liquor, like 'if they lost their appetite for thirstin',' it would be one of the best places to settle down in the world."
"You couldn't make the salary you make now if you lived up in those mountains."
"That's true, but it wouldn't keep me from painting and selling my art in other places."
"Then why don't you?" he grinned without mirth.
"I found that I love teaching, the thrill of passing on my passion for art. How about you? Did your Appalachian mother instill a hunger for reading in you?"
Though he nodded, he still narrowed his eyes at her and merely said, "Better get to bed early tonight because I'll be here bright and early tomorrow morning for that canoe."
"Fine," then she couldn't help herself and blurted out, "But you are welcome to stay and have poke sallet and soddy with me for lunch."
"Soddy?" he raised his eyebrows.
"You know, cornbread and milk with a few greens on the side," she grinned with a little gloating thrown in for good measure.
"No thanks. I have leftover steak at my place. By the way, you have paint right here," he ran his finger down her cheek causing tingles." The man jerked his hand away like she burned him.
"In the morning then." After he left, she went in her tiny bathroom and caught a glimpse at her face and shuddered. Of course she was a mess as usual and shook her head. Nothing like being humbled.
But Violet had happier thoughts of her day ahead. Ever since her brother had played football at the university, she'd been a big fan and held season passes. She'd thought of asking Jeff, but decided against it. It would ruin the game for her to be called "Vi" all night. It was going to be a big bag of popcorn all to herself along with a large diet coke kind of night, one she was looking forward to.
After standing up to cheer for a touchdown, Violet started to sit down when someone stomped on her toes with high heels. "Ouch!" She cried before falling back in her seat.
"Oh, did I step on your toes? Sorry." Then the woman giggled and snorted. "Oh, if it isn't the boat house squatter."
Violet bit her tongue before calling her Ms. Snort, or worse. Then she glanced up and saw the professor. It was then she realized that she didn't even know his name, only that he was Mr. Sorenson's nephew. For some reason he just stared at her while Miss Snort in high heels had added insult to injury before moving on to sit by her friends joining in their smirking` party.
"What are you doing here?" he gruffed like the troll under the bridge in the "Three Billy Goats Gruff" fairy tale.
Violet glanced around like she was confused, "Isn't this open to the public? Oh, that's right, I just happen to have season passes and have a right to be here."
"A season pass?"
"Down in front! Even you, professor," a man added sheepishly when he saw who he was yelling at.
"I think you'd better sit." Violet jerked him down to the empty seat beside her. "Why are you so shocked? My brother played football here a few years back, and I've been a fan ever since. I'm as loyal as they come. How about you?"
"I like football. Where's Jeff? Is this his seat?"
"No. I don't know where he is. I haven't seen him since last night, but I'll probably run into him at church tomorrow."
"Is your foot okay?"
"Ahh, it'll be okay before I'm married."
"What? Are you and Jeff...?"
"Of course not!"
"Well I think it's mighty strange you invited him to a date while engaged to somebody else then," he glowered.
"What are you talking about?" Then realization dawned. He was referring to her saying taking it literally. "Oh, that," she waved his words away. "It's just an expression I grew up with. My grannie said it all the time, you know up there in the holler."
"Phew, I was beginning to think you were a two-timing hussy."
Violet's hand was inching to slap something. Instead she "accidentally" knocked her Coke on his lap. "Oh my goodness, how did that happen?"
She heard the gasp of those around her, but especially coming from his little fan club in heels down the row. For goodness sakes, who wears high heels to barbecues and football games anyway? Just then one of Violet's friends was walking by, so she grabbed her and said, "Oh Charlotte, I've been saving this seat for you so I could ask you about our next young adult event. Sorry, Mr. Landlord, but you'll need to move. See you in the morning." She gave him a finger wave as he stalked off holding a football schedule open in front of himself trying in vain to hide his soaking.
"What did you just`do, Violet? Don't you know he's a professor here?" her friend hissed.
"That's what he gets for calling me a hussy," she huffed. "Besides, he's threatening to evict me. Serves him right. The man should have moved on with his lipstick brigade, but instead sat down right where you are and began insulting me."
"How rude!" Charlotte exclaimed.
"I'll say!" Violet's conscience only niggled her slightly for stretching the truth. "I just hope he can't evict me for spilling a large Coke on him. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Look, it wasn't all that much. See, half of it is still left in the cup." She glanced at her friend with her eyebrows raised hoping she'd back her up. Nevertheless, Violet chewed her lip nervously. Maybe she'd overreacted dredging up some deep, long-gone teenage angst episode.
She remembered a verse her mother tried to teach her, "Do not be rash with your mouth,
And let not your heart utter anything hastily before God. For God is in heaven, and you on earth; Therefore let your words be few." She knew it was from somewhere in Ecclesiastes, but guilt-inducing nevertheless, certainly sigh-worthy.
After halftime, she noticed he no longer sat in the middle of the high heel club. The professor probably got too cold sitting in wet pants. Since her team was so far ahead by the third quarter, she too left early. After all, the disturbing man would be at her house before dawn.
Actually, he didn't come till 9 am. While she was waiting, Violet had carefully used the pulley system to lower the canoe. It was on the porch when he finally got there. She waved to him as she climbed in her car and drove away to church. She sighed as she drove over the quaint stone bridge where a pretty bubbling stream went splashing on its merry way to the lake. Violet couldn't help but remember how her beloved Mr. Sorenson had never caused her a moment's grief. But that too was water under the bridge now.
She weakly waved at Jeff from across the young adult classroom. Her gaze grazed the room of chatting people seeing nary a date-worthy man in sight. Rats. Violet chewed her lip then chose a chair in the back as the leader got everyone's attention before asking them to sit down.
The Bible verses he was teaching from were Ecclesiastes 4:9-12. She groaned. Not Ecclesiastes again! Was God trying to beat her over the head for her childish behavior? Another random verse from Ecclesiastes hit her between her eyes when she opened the book first spying a few verses ahead in the next chapter, "Walk prudently when you go to the house of God; and draw near to hear rather than to give the sacrifice of fools, for they do not know they do evil."
"Okay, okay God? I hear you. I'll pay attention," she complained in her heart where no one else could hear her. But as their leader began, she groaned again. "Really, God? Now you want to rub my singleness' nose in it?"
The man read, "Two are better than one, Because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, for he has no one to help him up. Again, if two lie down together, they will keep warm; But how can one be warm alone?...A threefold cord is not quickly broken."
She'd heard all she wanted and slipped out between her classes and the church service going home. When she arrived, there was the canoe propped on her porch still dripping water. She'd given him a key, so why did he leave it up to her to wrangle the slippery thing alone?
After drying it off with an old towel, Violet dragged it inside and began to raise it when one of the old ropes broke causing the bow of the canoe to wildly swing towards her hitting her right under her left eye and knocking her down hard on her tush. Violet actually saw stars. Instead of getting up, she lay back to catch her breath as the pain took over. "Okay, God. I'm here all by my lonesome, just like the verses we read this morning said, and I have no one to help me up."
After a few deep breaths, she rose unsteadily on her feet and went to get some ice out of her small freezer. Unfortunately that meant either climbing over the canoe or heaving it out of the way. She chose to straddle the stupid thing where it rested across her bed slanting steeply down to the floor.
After a few deep breaths, she rose unsteadily on her feet and went to get some ice out of her small freezer. Unfortunately that meant either climbing over the canoe or heaving it out of the way. She chose to straddle the stupid thing where it rested across her bed slanting steeply down to the floor.
With her head pounding, she picked up a length of broken rope wondering how old that rope was. Sure enough, it was a rope with three strands, just as Ecclesiastes described. "Are you having a good laugh at my expense, God?" she yelled. "A three stranded cord indeed!" She shoved the canoe off her bed with a thud and lay down with an ice pack on her eye. Tears trickled down, in part from pain, in part from frustration. At least it was summer break, and she had another couple of weeks before classes resumed. Hopefully her black eye would be less colorful by then, but she doubted it. How could she explain an attack by a canoe?
She was in the middle of a pity party when there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for her to answer, her landlord stepped in through the partially open door.
"It's me, your landlord...What happened?" he gaped.
"The rope broke. It's so old, it must have been left over from Noah's ark."
"You look bad. Do you need to go to the E.R.?"
"No. I'm going to lie here the rest of the day getting my one-eyed beauty rest."
"Well, you'll at least need more ice and something to eat. I'll bring some down after I get this thing out of the boat house."
Rub it in, mister, she thought grimly. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"I meant to put it up after using your key to get in, but I got a phone call that required me to go up and get information out of my study. It should have been me getting the black eye. Sorry about that."
"Yeah, well..." she was almost speechless. Remembering the words of ol' Ecclesiastes, she repeated them in her head, "Do not be brash with your words. Do not be brash with your words."
"I guess you'll have to buy some new rope," she huffed.
"You think? In the meanwhile, it will be okay propped up against the house outside. When it's winter, I can put it in my garage."
"Can you hand me my purse? I have some Advil in it."
He got a couple of tablets and brought her a glass of water. She had to admit, he was being helpful, for now at least. Perhaps he had a habit of responding to the canoe-wounded.
Suddenly, someone was honking in her driveway. Her landlord groaned and opened the door to some long-legged woman in high heels, leopard print ones.
"What are you doing here, Cher?"
"I went up to your house first, but since you weren't there, I came here following that little gravel road over the quaint bridge . I brought your son a little early since I'll be traveling with my company to the Bahamas. Of course, I can't take him with me."
"You mean you'll be traveling with your boss," he raised his voice then sighed. "Of course I want Ben with me, as much as I possibly can."
As Violet stared with her one good eye she noticed when the woman finally realized they were not alone. The woman in leopard high heels said with a smirk, "I see I'm interrupting something." Then Violet shifted her ice pack and the woman saw her black eye gasping, "I do hope you haven't sunk to becoming abusive!"
"No!" She blurted out in unison with her landlord. "It was the canoe," Violet spurted out before she realized how stupid that sounded.
"My renter was trying to raise it with the pulley when the rope broke and the canoe got her," her landlord said.
Violet suddenly felt uncomfortable being part of a conversation between the professor and his obvious ex. She cautiously rolled over and got up out of bed. She slipped past the woman grateful to be out in the late summer heat. Insects were humming it up outside: crickets were fiddlers and the locust sang base. Crashing into that sound, she suddenly heard a child wailing. She saw the little boy left alone to sweat in his car seat.
"You poor thing," she cried and ran over to open the car door. In a flash she had him unbuckled and lifted in her arms where he snuggled his face in her shoulder shuddering. "It's okay, I got you," she crooned patting him on the back.
"I want my daddy!"
"Of course you do." Violet stomped back into the house where her window a.c. unit hit them with a cool blast. "Hey, you two can argue all you want, but how could you leave this child alone in a hot car while you're busy fussing?" She went to soak a washrag in cold water to use as compresses on his beat red face.
"Ben!" the prof cried.
"Daddy!" the boy threw himself out of her arms and into his father's where he was smothered in a hug.
"Why didn't you tell me he was out there baking in your car. You should have at least left the car running with the air conditioner on for him!" he blurted furiously while taking the proffered wet cloth Violet held out.
The woman huffed, "I didn't plan on standing here arguing with you for so long. I'll go get his things."
When the ex returned, she slapped a paper down on Violet's small table. "I need you to sign this, Drew. It's giving you full custody. I can't keep making special arrangements for Ben every time my boss needs me to go somewhere."
Drew looked shocked, but hurried to say, "I'll gladly sign it." He picked it up and scanned it quickly while holding his boy tightly against him. "Do you have a pen I could use, Violet?" When she produced one, he couldn't sign it fast enough. "I'll fax this to our attorneys, and Cher, thank you." There were tears in his eyes as he enveloped his child back into an embrace. The little boys arms had not quit hugging his daddy's neck in a strangle grip. "Does he have anything else to bring in?"
"Yeah, the trunk's full of his toys."
"Let's bring those in, Ben, okay?" Finally the boy was satisfied and allowed his dad to put him down. He ran out to his mother's car to help bring everything in, just happy to be with his daddy.
Suddenly, Violet's floor was covered with boy toys, including a tricycle and a car seat. Her landlord leaned down to whisper, "After she leaves, I'll bring my SUV down and to take everything up to my house. Sorry about the mess, not just the toys, but that you had to witness that bit of ugliness."
"I'm just glad you get the child. A boy needs his dad and doesn't need to be just an inconvenience."
"Exactly."
The woman drove away after merely blowing a kiss to the little boy, but he was too distracted by Lars the lab licking him to death. He belly laughed a joyous boy melody.
"Want to hike up the hill, Ben, so we can drive my car back here to take your things to my new house?"
"You don't live here?" he asked innocently looking around.
"No, our house is up the hill."
"Who's she?" he asked talking out the side of his mouth while sucking his thumb. "She got owie."
His father gently pulled his thumb out and introduced them. "This is my renter, Miss Violet, and this special boy," he said hugging him against his leg, "is my son Benjamin."
"I, Benny," the boy grinned around the thumb that was popped back in.
Violet bent down to his level to shake his other, less soggy hand. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Benny."
His grin spread as he said, "I not Mr. Benny! Just Benny."
"Okay, Benny. I just so happen to need a friend named Benny. Glad you are here because we are neighbors!"
"You live here?"
"Yes, I do."
"Why a big boat in here?"
"It's your daddy's, but it stays in here when he's not using it. In fact, that big boat gave me my owie!"
He cocked his head and studied her. "How'd it do that?"
"It fell down when a rope broke as I was pulling it up to my ceiling."
"Oh," he looked impressed gazing up at the ceiling where the pully held a dangling rope. She could see his imagination running away with it just by observing his eyes.
"Let's go, Ben," her landlord swung his son up in his arms. "We've kept Miss Violet from putting ice on her owie."
"I come back," Bennie promised popping his thumb out long enough to tell her."
"Good, but I'm going to lie down now." She was feeling a little woozy and could tell her skin was pulling tightly as the lump under her eye swelled.
Lars the lab happily woofed when the landlord's car drove back down her gravel drive. Violet tried to get up, but Ben's dad waved her to stay in bed. "Stay there. Ben can help me."
She watched the adorable little boy as he took armloads out to the car dropping almost as much he carried. The boy's straight-as-straw blond hair kept falling in his eyes causing him to bump into the footstool by her comfy chair every time he walked by. Even his father tripped over it once causing the professor to stagger out the door. Violet swallowed her giggle. The last thing she wanted was to make him madder.
"By the way, Professor, I don't even know your name. Are you a Sorenson as well?"
He paused while holding a Buzz Lightyear causing him to look a little less intimidating. "Yes, I'm Dr. Sorenson, but you can call me Drew like my friends do."
"Thanks. Nice to officially meet you."
"I think that's all of his toys," he said glancing around. "Well, thanks for letting us temporarily clutter up your apartment. And I truly am sorry for the canoe accident. If you need anything, call me."
"Do you still have your uncle's land line?"
"No, I discontinued it. Let me dump the rest of these in my car, then I'll put my number in your phone in case of emergency."
"Thanks."
It took a couple of days before Violet was finally able to see out of her swollen eye and her headache to relax its grip. It was a little hard painting one-eyed or reading, so she spent extra time relaxing on the dock fishing. She had lake trout three nights in a row for supper. Nothing tasted better to her than fresh fish rolled in cornmeal and fried in her cast iron skillet. She enjoyed fresh sliced tomatoes and just-picked green beans from her small garden. This was the simple life at its best, she sighed happily refusing a future threat of eviction to ruin her present happiness.
On the third day, Violet had just thrown her line out when she spied her landlord strolling down the hill with a couple of fishing poles in one hand and his son's hand in the other. His creel was hanging over his shoulder flapping. Little Ben was carrying a tackle box in his other hand with it bouncing off his knee with every step.
"Hi! We got worms!"
"Good, the fish are rubbing their tummies right now just thinking about the bait you're going to throw out to them."
He chortled a happy boy noise. "Fish can't rub their tummies!"
"Oh, I guess you're right. I've never seen one do it, I'll have to admit." Looking at his short pants, she added, "'I can tell you're sprouting so fast you're about chucked out of your knee britches!' You'll be as tall as your daddy by next week fer sure!"
The boy just dropped down to roll on the ground with sweet laughter, tackle box forgotten. "You silly, Miss Violet!"
But the child's father just stared at her. "Is that your own saying from the hills or are you quoting from the old 40's movie about Appalachia, 'Shepherd of the Hills'?"
"You guessed it. That's one of my favorites."
"Mine too," he said surprising her. "John Wayne was sure young in it."
"'Yep, son and pappy, I ken tell the way his mouth laughs when he don't want it to,'" she winked before thinking better of it. What was she doing winking at her grumbly landlord?
The man's other side of his mouth tilted up until he was almost smiling. "'Careful, I could stuff you in a mattress full of hay and your horse will eat you too.'"
Goodness, the man could smile.
"Daddy, don't feed her to a horse!" the boy looked alarmed.
His father rubbed his son's hair and assured him, "I'm just teasing her. Besides, I don't think there's a horse in the world who'd want to eat the likes of her." Then the man laughed full throttle.
Violet couldn't help but laugh too, but soon they all got down to the serious business of fishing. She had to push Lars the Lab's nose out of the worm container leaving dirt on his nose. She helped the boy put a squirmy worm on his hook before showing him how to throw out his line with a satisfying plop. "Watch the bobber. When it goes under, it means a fish bit on your hook."
The boy looked on in amazement staring at that red bobber. His attention span was remarkable. When a fish tugged, his dad jumped up to help him. The child talked a blue streak to that puny fish. Finally Drew convinced him to throw it back in to wait until it grew some more. That about used up all his attention before wandering back to the shore to throw rocks in. It was a good thing he wore a life-vest because each toss about sent him head over heels after it into the water.
"Well, I guess that's all the fishing we'll get in today. Thanks for your help."
The professor beckoned his son and was about to walk up the hill when she called, "Wait! Do you want some of the fish on my stringer? I've had fish several times this week already anyway."
"Really? Sure. I've been wanting to introduce Benny to a fisherman's pallet."
Violet pulled up her stringer and put three fat trout into his creel.
"Lake trout, my favorite."
"Mine too. Watch out for fish bones though."
"I'll be careful, especially with Benny's."
She waved to the happy boy and thought how this would be a great place to grow up.
The next day it rained. And the next and the third day it poured. The lake inched up, but most worrisome was the way she could hear the stream roaring down. She stood out in the rain and looked at it. Violet realized that it wouldn't take much to overrun its banks and creep into her house. She began throwing things into her car as fast as she could, her laptop, clothes, family photos, her pictures and any valuables she could grab. However, her plan was thwarted when she spied that the wonderful old rock work bridge was washed away. She was marooned.
Instead, she figured she would drive as far up the hill as she could boony-womping through the mud. Her car bounced until her head hit the ceiling before fishtailing up a ways. It wasn't too far before she spun out. What should she do now? Her tires had dug down deep in the mud.
As she sat there near to tears, someone knocked on her window prodding her to scream. It was Drew. She rolled down the foggy window even though it let more rain in to splatter her face. He was soaked.
"What are you doing down here? You look like you took a swim in the lake in your clothes."
"I came to check on you. I heard your car whining trying to get traction. Just grab what you need for overnight, and come up to my place. Your house doesn't looks safe. Unfortunately, it probably will be flooded. With the bridge washed out, both of us are stuck, sort of marooned. Besides, the electricity just went out."
"It did?" When she glanced back, her place looked dark and sad. "Thanks." She fought through her mound of clothes to find her pouch of necessaries. Hopefully it would stop raining tomorrow, and she could retrieve clean clothes without them getting sopping wet.
He propped the door open, then held her arm as she slid in the mud up the slope. No wonder she couldn't drive any further. It was slick with rivulets of water and mud and slippery wet leaves. Violet could only pray that even if her house washed away, her car would be safe.
Speaking of being safe, she had to ask, "Where's your son? I hope you didn't have to leave him alone while you came to rescue me."
"No, of course not. He's at my folks for the weekend. They were anxious to spend time with him. It's a good thing too with all this rain and the road being washed out and all."
By the time they staggered up the hill, they both looked like participants in one of those mud runs. All they missed were their numbers pinned to their chests. She toed her muddy shoes off at his door.
"Sorry, but I'm afraid I'm about to get your house mucked up."
"No worse than I am. I can start a fire to warm us up though. We can roast hot dogs in the fireplace and pretend it's a picnic."
"Sounds good," Violet's teeth chattered as she shivered hard.
"There are clean towels in the bathroom if you want to try and rub dry. Sorry, but I can't even offer a hot bath without electricity."
"That's okay. I'll bring you a couple of towels too. You're as wet as I am."
Once she saw her reflection in the vanity, she shuddered for another reason. She was a hot mess, or rather a cold mess. Her hair was plastered to her face where mud was smeared, and her clothes were glued to her body, embarrassingly so. Violet was grateful for the large beach towel she found to wrap up in. She took one to him as well.
"Here." She thrust it out to her landlord before backing up to the blazing fire. "Oh, does that feels good!"
He had gone in and changed into dry clothes, the show-off. So now he merely rubbed his hair dry. She found the hot dogs in his frig and the condiments. He reached around her and grabbed a bag of buns and a bag of chips.
"Got anything to cook them with?"
"I grabbed these off the deck before I changed into my dry things. Here's one for you." He handed her a really-truly, genuine official looking iron hot dog stabber with a painted wood handle.
"Wow, aren't we being fancy! I've only ever used skinny branches before to cook my dogs with."
The prof only grinned. He liked his cooked medium well she noticed, but Violet liked hers charred to a crisp on the outside. They were quiet as they ate. Yet, the warmth of the fire melted them into a comfortable, relaxed state. Soon conversation flowed.
In fact, he brought out pillows and blanket so they could sleep in front of the blazing source of heat. For awhile he played his guitar and sang some of the Blue Grass tunes he'd uncovered for his doctorate studies on Appalachia. It surprised her that she even knew some and could sing along.
"It's funny that I was originally hired to teach Appalachia literature and lore, but then some stiffs thought it wasn't proper enough for our department and switched me to teaching English literature."
"That's crazy!" she protested.
But he went on, "Most-including me-think that Blue Grass evolved from the music the Scots-Irish immigrants brought with them, though there are other theories. Then in the forties, a couple of men like Lester Flatts from Sparta, Tennessee, and then Earl Scruggs started singing what was called Blue Grass music. As it gain in popularity, much of it fed country music," he said knowledgeably. Then his cheeks turned pink as he continued, "Believe it or not they asked me to write my own ballad as part of my doctoral dissertation, one that would be as close to the colloquial vernacular as I could expressing some of the sentiment that poured into the mountain music. So don't laugh, but this is one about my great-great-great grandpa."
He sang it with a bit of twang. It was a mournful tune. No one would guess he taught English literature at the university.
After that they compared their childhoods. He even got around to telling her how his marriage had failed, the part he'd played in it mistaking lust for love. But he exulted over how much he cherished being a father. The last time Violet glanced at the time on her phone, it was two o'clock in the morning. Wow, they were having quite the slumber party it seemed. Words got fewer and farther between as they both soon dropped off to sleep.
Her last thought was the verse in Ecclesiastes, "If two lie down together, they keep each other warm."
The next thing she knew, someone was pounding on the door. Violet rolled her head off of what must have been Drew's shoulder and rubbed her eyes to look out the glass door off the deck. It unfortuately offered a full view of where they'd slept evidently all cozy-like curled up next to each other.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "It's Jeff and my pastor. I guess they've come to check on me."
Drew sat up throwing his blanket off. "This is awkward, especially for you. Surely they know it is totally innocent. But Violet saw a place her drool had left a wet spot on his chest where she'd been so comfortably tucked up.
Drew got up to invite them in. The lights were all on again and sunshine poured in through the windows and door while the fire had died down completely. The storm was over.
Once they were inside, she could see Jeff taking note of the pillows and twisted blankets. She charged forward, "How did you get here? The bridge is washed out."
"We hiked down the hill from the highway. We were worried about you. Did your house get flooded, or worse, washed away? Is that why you're here?" he asked looking between them accusingly.
Her pastor broke in to say, "When we heard the news reports of the bridge being washed out, they showed drone videos of the devastation from the flooding. But we couldn't exactly see if your place was still standing, Violet."
"I don't know. By the way, Pastor, have you met Professor Andrew Sorenson? He's my landlord who came to my rescue last night. At least we had a warm fire to sleep by."
"I can see that," Jeff grimaced.
"Yes, I know Drew." her pastor shook the man's hand grinning.
Drew jumped in saying, "Why don't we all go down and see the damage, okay Violet?"
Violet stood by a small desk in the living room and happened to glance down and see an eviction notice lying there. She felt sick to her stomach. How dare the man act like he was interested in her at least as a friend, if not more, all the while he was plotting to evict her. She stiffened her back and followed the men out the door. She put her wet, muddy shoes back on that she'd taken off the night before.
The four of them slid down the slope like a slip and slide. Jeff fell once on his backside, but soon each of them had close calls. Violet was determined not to go head over heels after Drew, so she grabbed skinny birches and oak trees to hold onto as she skated down on the wet leaves.
Once they got to her car, she hung onto the rear view mirror raising her eyes to see her home. At least it was still standing, though obviously a river had run through it.
Drew was there beside her putting his arm around her deflated shoulders saying, "Don't worry, we can rebuild. I'll replace everything you lost."
She shook his arm off and forced a smile. "I don't expect you to do that. I know that it wasn't your intent to have a renter anyway." Then she turned her back against him and slogged the rest of the way down to her front door. There weren't many things salvageable. It's just things, she thought with a sigh.
She picked up this and that before turning and asking Jeff, "Can you help me carry some of the things out of my car up to the highway? I'll ask my friend Charlotte if I can stay with her until I can find another place to live." Violet ignored Drew's intense stare.
The men followed her up and helped her get enough of her things out of her car to get by with. By the time they made it up to the highway, she was exhausted. But before she could climb in her pastor's car, someone jerked her around by her arm. Drew.
"I told you I'll rebuild your place so you can move back in."
"All I know is that you were planning on evicting me," she hissed before climbing in and slamming the door. Jeff looked back at her with a funny expression on his face. But her pastor pulled out on the highway and drove away.
That's when it hit her like a ton of bricks. She was homeless. School was starting next week, she still had the hint of a black eye and she did not even have her syllabus for her classes. She'd seen the wet thing floating in a puddle left on the floor of her art studio. As soon as the men quit trying to involve her in their conversation, she called her friend forcing herself not to cry. Of course Charlotte wanted Violet to stay with her she said.
She gave her pastor directions. The guys carried her bunched up stuff to the door where Charlotte burst out to hug her tightly. "You poor thing!" Violet only shed a few tears. She'd save the rest for later that night.
Drew sent her a few texts like, "How are you doing?" "I think we had a big misunderstanding."
But she did not respond. So it was a complete surprise while sitting in church the next Sunday when Drew slid in beside her. He even grabbed her hand to hold. For some unknown reason, she did not pull away even when Jeff looked over Charlotte's shoulder to stare at their hands.
"Where's Benny?" she whispered.
"He's in kinder-church."
"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly as the congregation began singing.
Glancing up at him, she was startled by the warm look he gave her.
"I used to come here all the time, that is until my divorce. But Benny needs it," he took a deep breath before adding, "and I need it. I need to get back to my first love."
So shoulder to shoulder, side by side they sat through the sermon which frankly neither one of them could absorb, so full were their thoughts of each other.
After church, she went with Drew to get Benny. The sweet boy ran past his daddy and held his arms up for her. "Hi, neighbor!" he cried.
After eating out together, she went with Drew back to his house so he could put Benny down for a nap. Sitting close together on the couch, he once again took her hand.
"I never intended for you to see that eviction notice. I don't know why I didn't throw it away. After watching you putting a worm on my son's hook, I was caught. I truly want to rebuild for you, but would leave it just an art studio. Somehow 'I got a marrying notion.' As for you, I'd much rather you be here with me, as my wife and a mother for my boy."
When she swallowed back a gasp, he grinned and went on. "I know it's sudden like, but when I see you, I 'get all tongue-tied and smiling sideways.' We fit perfectly, like two pigs in a poke. You don't have to answer me now. I don't even have a ring," he said apologetically. I just think it's important that you know what I'm thinking. 'I jest 'got that seldom feeling.'"
Violet shook her head as their gazes caught. "'I'd admire that.'"
"What? What part do you like? Waiting to answer, or..."
"Being your wife and Benny's mother," she said hoarsely. "'My voice growed damp,' just now. But here's a marker," she picked one of Benny's from the coffee table. "Draw a ring on my finger."
"Not that marker," he blurted. "It would wash away the first time you washed your hands." The man jumped up and ran to the desk. "For this we need a permanent marker," he said grinning.
"Put it on then," she laughed and cried at the same time.
And he did after kissing her softly and gently wiping a tear away saying, "'The first tear I ever seen, a pretty thing for human gladness.'"
*Many of the colloquial quotes are from "Shepherd of the Hills," by Harold Bell Wright, an old movie starring John Wayne and set in Appalachia.
**Jesse Adkins was my great, great, great grandpa from Sparta, Tennessee and the ballad is mine.
Suddenly, someone was honking in her driveway. Her landlord groaned and opened the door to some long-legged woman in high heels, leopard print ones.
"What are you doing here, Cher?"
"I went up to your house first, but since you weren't there, I came here following that little gravel road over the quaint bridge . I brought your son a little early since I'll be traveling with my company to the Bahamas. Of course, I can't take him with me."
"You mean you'll be traveling with your boss," he raised his voice then sighed. "Of course I want Ben with me, as much as I possibly can."
As Violet stared with her one good eye she noticed when the woman finally realized they were not alone. The woman in leopard high heels said with a smirk, "I see I'm interrupting something." Then Violet shifted her ice pack and the woman saw her black eye gasping, "I do hope you haven't sunk to becoming abusive!"
"No!" She blurted out in unison with her landlord. "It was the canoe," Violet spurted out before she realized how stupid that sounded.
"My renter was trying to raise it with the pulley when the rope broke and the canoe got her," her landlord said.
Violet suddenly felt uncomfortable being part of a conversation between the professor and his obvious ex. She cautiously rolled over and got up out of bed. She slipped past the woman grateful to be out in the late summer heat. Insects were humming it up outside: crickets were fiddlers and the locust sang base. Crashing into that sound, she suddenly heard a child wailing. She saw the little boy left alone to sweat in his car seat.
"You poor thing," she cried and ran over to open the car door. In a flash she had him unbuckled and lifted in her arms where he snuggled his face in her shoulder shuddering. "It's okay, I got you," she crooned patting him on the back.
"I want my daddy!"
"Of course you do." Violet stomped back into the house where her window a.c. unit hit them with a cool blast. "Hey, you two can argue all you want, but how could you leave this child alone in a hot car while you're busy fussing?" She went to soak a washrag in cold water to use as compresses on his beat red face.
"Ben!" the prof cried.
"Daddy!" the boy threw himself out of her arms and into his father's where he was smothered in a hug.
"Why didn't you tell me he was out there baking in your car. You should have at least left the car running with the air conditioner on for him!" he blurted furiously while taking the proffered wet cloth Violet held out.
The woman huffed, "I didn't plan on standing here arguing with you for so long. I'll go get his things."
When the ex returned, she slapped a paper down on Violet's small table. "I need you to sign this, Drew. It's giving you full custody. I can't keep making special arrangements for Ben every time my boss needs me to go somewhere."
Drew looked shocked, but hurried to say, "I'll gladly sign it." He picked it up and scanned it quickly while holding his boy tightly against him. "Do you have a pen I could use, Violet?" When she produced one, he couldn't sign it fast enough. "I'll fax this to our attorneys, and Cher, thank you." There were tears in his eyes as he enveloped his child back into an embrace. The little boys arms had not quit hugging his daddy's neck in a strangle grip. "Does he have anything else to bring in?"
"Yeah, the trunk's full of his toys."
"Let's bring those in, Ben, okay?" Finally the boy was satisfied and allowed his dad to put him down. He ran out to his mother's car to help bring everything in, just happy to be with his daddy.
Suddenly, Violet's floor was covered with boy toys, including a tricycle and a car seat. Her landlord leaned down to whisper, "After she leaves, I'll bring my SUV down and to take everything up to my house. Sorry about the mess, not just the toys, but that you had to witness that bit of ugliness."
"I'm just glad you get the child. A boy needs his dad and doesn't need to be just an inconvenience."
"Exactly."
The woman drove away after merely blowing a kiss to the little boy, but he was too distracted by Lars the lab licking him to death. He belly laughed a joyous boy melody.
"Want to hike up the hill, Ben, so we can drive my car back here to take your things to my new house?"
"You don't live here?" he asked innocently looking around.
"No, our house is up the hill."
"Who's she?" he asked talking out the side of his mouth while sucking his thumb. "She got owie."
His father gently pulled his thumb out and introduced them. "This is my renter, Miss Violet, and this special boy," he said hugging him against his leg, "is my son Benjamin."
"I, Benny," the boy grinned around the thumb that was popped back in.
Violet bent down to his level to shake his other, less soggy hand. "It's nice to meet you Mr. Benny."
His grin spread as he said, "I not Mr. Benny! Just Benny."
"Okay, Benny. I just so happen to need a friend named Benny. Glad you are here because we are neighbors!"
"You live here?"
"Yes, I do."
"Why a big boat in here?"
"It's your daddy's, but it stays in here when he's not using it. In fact, that big boat gave me my owie!"
He cocked his head and studied her. "How'd it do that?"
"It fell down when a rope broke as I was pulling it up to my ceiling."
"Oh," he looked impressed gazing up at the ceiling where the pully held a dangling rope. She could see his imagination running away with it just by observing his eyes.
"Let's go, Ben," her landlord swung his son up in his arms. "We've kept Miss Violet from putting ice on her owie."
"I come back," Bennie promised popping his thumb out long enough to tell her."
"Good, but I'm going to lie down now." She was feeling a little woozy and could tell her skin was pulling tightly as the lump under her eye swelled.
Lars the lab happily woofed when the landlord's car drove back down her gravel drive. Violet tried to get up, but Ben's dad waved her to stay in bed. "Stay there. Ben can help me."
She watched the adorable little boy as he took armloads out to the car dropping almost as much he carried. The boy's straight-as-straw blond hair kept falling in his eyes causing him to bump into the footstool by her comfy chair every time he walked by. Even his father tripped over it once causing the professor to stagger out the door. Violet swallowed her giggle. The last thing she wanted was to make him madder.
"By the way, Professor, I don't even know your name. Are you a Sorenson as well?"
He paused while holding a Buzz Lightyear causing him to look a little less intimidating. "Yes, I'm Dr. Sorenson, but you can call me Drew like my friends do."
"Thanks. Nice to officially meet you."
"I think that's all of his toys," he said glancing around. "Well, thanks for letting us temporarily clutter up your apartment. And I truly am sorry for the canoe accident. If you need anything, call me."
"Do you still have your uncle's land line?"
"No, I discontinued it. Let me dump the rest of these in my car, then I'll put my number in your phone in case of emergency."
"Thanks."
It took a couple of days before Violet was finally able to see out of her swollen eye and her headache to relax its grip. It was a little hard painting one-eyed or reading, so she spent extra time relaxing on the dock fishing. She had lake trout three nights in a row for supper. Nothing tasted better to her than fresh fish rolled in cornmeal and fried in her cast iron skillet. She enjoyed fresh sliced tomatoes and just-picked green beans from her small garden. This was the simple life at its best, she sighed happily refusing a future threat of eviction to ruin her present happiness.
On the third day, Violet had just thrown her line out when she spied her landlord strolling down the hill with a couple of fishing poles in one hand and his son's hand in the other. His creel was hanging over his shoulder flapping. Little Ben was carrying a tackle box in his other hand with it bouncing off his knee with every step.
"Hi! We got worms!"
"Good, the fish are rubbing their tummies right now just thinking about the bait you're going to throw out to them."
He chortled a happy boy noise. "Fish can't rub their tummies!"
"Oh, I guess you're right. I've never seen one do it, I'll have to admit." Looking at his short pants, she added, "'I can tell you're sprouting so fast you're about chucked out of your knee britches!' You'll be as tall as your daddy by next week fer sure!"
The boy just dropped down to roll on the ground with sweet laughter, tackle box forgotten. "You silly, Miss Violet!"
But the child's father just stared at her. "Is that your own saying from the hills or are you quoting from the old 40's movie about Appalachia, 'Shepherd of the Hills'?"
"You guessed it. That's one of my favorites."
"Mine too," he said surprising her. "John Wayne was sure young in it."
"'Yep, son and pappy, I ken tell the way his mouth laughs when he don't want it to,'" she winked before thinking better of it. What was she doing winking at her grumbly landlord?
The man's other side of his mouth tilted up until he was almost smiling. "'Careful, I could stuff you in a mattress full of hay and your horse will eat you too.'"
Goodness, the man could smile.
"Daddy, don't feed her to a horse!" the boy looked alarmed.
His father rubbed his son's hair and assured him, "I'm just teasing her. Besides, I don't think there's a horse in the world who'd want to eat the likes of her." Then the man laughed full throttle.
Violet couldn't help but laugh too, but soon they all got down to the serious business of fishing. She had to push Lars the Lab's nose out of the worm container leaving dirt on his nose. She helped the boy put a squirmy worm on his hook before showing him how to throw out his line with a satisfying plop. "Watch the bobber. When it goes under, it means a fish bit on your hook."
The boy looked on in amazement staring at that red bobber. His attention span was remarkable. When a fish tugged, his dad jumped up to help him. The child talked a blue streak to that puny fish. Finally Drew convinced him to throw it back in to wait until it grew some more. That about used up all his attention before wandering back to the shore to throw rocks in. It was a good thing he wore a life-vest because each toss about sent him head over heels after it into the water.
"Well, I guess that's all the fishing we'll get in today. Thanks for your help."
The professor beckoned his son and was about to walk up the hill when she called, "Wait! Do you want some of the fish on my stringer? I've had fish several times this week already anyway."
"Really? Sure. I've been wanting to introduce Benny to a fisherman's pallet."
Violet pulled up her stringer and put three fat trout into his creel.
"Lake trout, my favorite."
"Mine too. Watch out for fish bones though."
"I'll be careful, especially with Benny's."
She waved to the happy boy and thought how this would be a great place to grow up.
The next day it rained. And the next and the third day it poured. The lake inched up, but most worrisome was the way she could hear the stream roaring down. She stood out in the rain and looked at it. Violet realized that it wouldn't take much to overrun its banks and creep into her house. She began throwing things into her car as fast as she could, her laptop, clothes, family photos, her pictures and any valuables she could grab. However, her plan was thwarted when she spied that the wonderful old rock work bridge was washed away. She was marooned.
Instead, she figured she would drive as far up the hill as she could boony-womping through the mud. Her car bounced until her head hit the ceiling before fishtailing up a ways. It wasn't too far before she spun out. What should she do now? Her tires had dug down deep in the mud.
As she sat there near to tears, someone knocked on her window prodding her to scream. It was Drew. She rolled down the foggy window even though it let more rain in to splatter her face. He was soaked.
"What are you doing down here? You look like you took a swim in the lake in your clothes."
"I came to check on you. I heard your car whining trying to get traction. Just grab what you need for overnight, and come up to my place. Your house doesn't looks safe. Unfortunately, it probably will be flooded. With the bridge washed out, both of us are stuck, sort of marooned. Besides, the electricity just went out."
"It did?" When she glanced back, her place looked dark and sad. "Thanks." She fought through her mound of clothes to find her pouch of necessaries. Hopefully it would stop raining tomorrow, and she could retrieve clean clothes without them getting sopping wet.
He propped the door open, then held her arm as she slid in the mud up the slope. No wonder she couldn't drive any further. It was slick with rivulets of water and mud and slippery wet leaves. Violet could only pray that even if her house washed away, her car would be safe.
Speaking of being safe, she had to ask, "Where's your son? I hope you didn't have to leave him alone while you came to rescue me."
"No, of course not. He's at my folks for the weekend. They were anxious to spend time with him. It's a good thing too with all this rain and the road being washed out and all."
By the time they staggered up the hill, they both looked like participants in one of those mud runs. All they missed were their numbers pinned to their chests. She toed her muddy shoes off at his door.
"Sorry, but I'm afraid I'm about to get your house mucked up."
"No worse than I am. I can start a fire to warm us up though. We can roast hot dogs in the fireplace and pretend it's a picnic."
"Sounds good," Violet's teeth chattered as she shivered hard.
"There are clean towels in the bathroom if you want to try and rub dry. Sorry, but I can't even offer a hot bath without electricity."
"That's okay. I'll bring you a couple of towels too. You're as wet as I am."
Once she saw her reflection in the vanity, she shuddered for another reason. She was a hot mess, or rather a cold mess. Her hair was plastered to her face where mud was smeared, and her clothes were glued to her body, embarrassingly so. Violet was grateful for the large beach towel she found to wrap up in. She took one to him as well.
"Here." She thrust it out to her landlord before backing up to the blazing fire. "Oh, does that feels good!"
He had gone in and changed into dry clothes, the show-off. So now he merely rubbed his hair dry. She found the hot dogs in his frig and the condiments. He reached around her and grabbed a bag of buns and a bag of chips.
"Got anything to cook them with?"
"I grabbed these off the deck before I changed into my dry things. Here's one for you." He handed her a really-truly, genuine official looking iron hot dog stabber with a painted wood handle.
"Wow, aren't we being fancy! I've only ever used skinny branches before to cook my dogs with."
The prof only grinned. He liked his cooked medium well she noticed, but Violet liked hers charred to a crisp on the outside. They were quiet as they ate. Yet, the warmth of the fire melted them into a comfortable, relaxed state. Soon conversation flowed.
In fact, he brought out pillows and blanket so they could sleep in front of the blazing source of heat. For awhile he played his guitar and sang some of the Blue Grass tunes he'd uncovered for his doctorate studies on Appalachia. It surprised her that she even knew some and could sing along.
"It's funny that I was originally hired to teach Appalachia literature and lore, but then some stiffs thought it wasn't proper enough for our department and switched me to teaching English literature."
"That's crazy!" she protested.
But he went on, "Most-including me-think that Blue Grass evolved from the music the Scots-Irish immigrants brought with them, though there are other theories. Then in the forties, a couple of men like Lester Flatts from Sparta, Tennessee, and then Earl Scruggs started singing what was called Blue Grass music. As it gain in popularity, much of it fed country music," he said knowledgeably. Then his cheeks turned pink as he continued, "Believe it or not they asked me to write my own ballad as part of my doctoral dissertation, one that would be as close to the colloquial vernacular as I could expressing some of the sentiment that poured into the mountain music. So don't laugh, but this is one about my great-great-great grandpa."
He sang it with a bit of twang. It was a mournful tune. No one would guess he taught English literature at the university.
When the Blood Thirst Came a Callin'
in a Tennessee Mountain Holler
Jesse, jest a boy of three,
hid himself in a holl'a tree.
When injuns came a callin'
in a Tennesee mountain holler.
They killed his pappy and his ma.
It were a terrible thing he saw
when the blood thirst came a callin'
in his Tennessee mountain holler.
Then those redskins came after him
his poor lil'scalp they did skin.
When blood thirst came a callin'
in a Tennessee mountain holler.
Somehow he lived to tell the tale,
would whip off his cap and make 'em pale,
showing when the blood thirst came a callin'
In his Tennessee mountain holler.
Then the war split the states.
The land was overflowed with hate,
When the blood thirst came a callin'
in every mountain holler.
Restin' up from the devilment,
the war of blood and words was spent.
Would the blood thirst still come a callin'
in his Tennessee mountain holler?
Jesse, now a grandpappy,
by his daughter's fire sat happy,
Till the blood thirst came a callin'
in his Tennessee mountain holler.
Steppin' out her door was heard a shot.
It kilt ol'Jesse on the spot.
When the blood thirst came a callin'
in his Tennessee mountain holler.
'Twas a bushwacker from the south,
who hated the northern views he espoused.
When the blood thirst came a callin'
in his Tennessee mountain holler.
"That didn't really happen, did it?"
"It was something like that, yes. It was my distant grandpappy Jessee Adkins from Sparta, Tennessee."
"Oh my! I hadn't thought of how much you'd researched your kinfolk for your doctorate. But it makes sense, especially the way DNA can prove one's heritage."
After that they compared their childhoods. He even got around to telling her how his marriage had failed, the part he'd played in it mistaking lust for love. But he exulted over how much he cherished being a father. The last time Violet glanced at the time on her phone, it was two o'clock in the morning. Wow, they were having quite the slumber party it seemed. Words got fewer and farther between as they both soon dropped off to sleep.
Her last thought was the verse in Ecclesiastes, "If two lie down together, they keep each other warm."
The next thing she knew, someone was pounding on the door. Violet rolled her head off of what must have been Drew's shoulder and rubbed her eyes to look out the glass door off the deck. It unfortuately offered a full view of where they'd slept evidently all cozy-like curled up next to each other.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "It's Jeff and my pastor. I guess they've come to check on me."
Drew sat up throwing his blanket off. "This is awkward, especially for you. Surely they know it is totally innocent. But Violet saw a place her drool had left a wet spot on his chest where she'd been so comfortably tucked up.
Drew got up to invite them in. The lights were all on again and sunshine poured in through the windows and door while the fire had died down completely. The storm was over.
Once they were inside, she could see Jeff taking note of the pillows and twisted blankets. She charged forward, "How did you get here? The bridge is washed out."
"We hiked down the hill from the highway. We were worried about you. Did your house get flooded, or worse, washed away? Is that why you're here?" he asked looking between them accusingly.
Her pastor broke in to say, "When we heard the news reports of the bridge being washed out, they showed drone videos of the devastation from the flooding. But we couldn't exactly see if your place was still standing, Violet."
"I don't know. By the way, Pastor, have you met Professor Andrew Sorenson? He's my landlord who came to my rescue last night. At least we had a warm fire to sleep by."
"I can see that," Jeff grimaced.
"Yes, I know Drew." her pastor shook the man's hand grinning.
Drew jumped in saying, "Why don't we all go down and see the damage, okay Violet?"
Violet stood by a small desk in the living room and happened to glance down and see an eviction notice lying there. She felt sick to her stomach. How dare the man act like he was interested in her at least as a friend, if not more, all the while he was plotting to evict her. She stiffened her back and followed the men out the door. She put her wet, muddy shoes back on that she'd taken off the night before.
The four of them slid down the slope like a slip and slide. Jeff fell once on his backside, but soon each of them had close calls. Violet was determined not to go head over heels after Drew, so she grabbed skinny birches and oak trees to hold onto as she skated down on the wet leaves.
Once they got to her car, she hung onto the rear view mirror raising her eyes to see her home. At least it was still standing, though obviously a river had run through it.
Drew was there beside her putting his arm around her deflated shoulders saying, "Don't worry, we can rebuild. I'll replace everything you lost."
She shook his arm off and forced a smile. "I don't expect you to do that. I know that it wasn't your intent to have a renter anyway." Then she turned her back against him and slogged the rest of the way down to her front door. There weren't many things salvageable. It's just things, she thought with a sigh.
She picked up this and that before turning and asking Jeff, "Can you help me carry some of the things out of my car up to the highway? I'll ask my friend Charlotte if I can stay with her until I can find another place to live." Violet ignored Drew's intense stare.
The men followed her up and helped her get enough of her things out of her car to get by with. By the time they made it up to the highway, she was exhausted. But before she could climb in her pastor's car, someone jerked her around by her arm. Drew.
"I told you I'll rebuild your place so you can move back in."
"All I know is that you were planning on evicting me," she hissed before climbing in and slamming the door. Jeff looked back at her with a funny expression on his face. But her pastor pulled out on the highway and drove away.
That's when it hit her like a ton of bricks. She was homeless. School was starting next week, she still had the hint of a black eye and she did not even have her syllabus for her classes. She'd seen the wet thing floating in a puddle left on the floor of her art studio. As soon as the men quit trying to involve her in their conversation, she called her friend forcing herself not to cry. Of course Charlotte wanted Violet to stay with her she said.
She gave her pastor directions. The guys carried her bunched up stuff to the door where Charlotte burst out to hug her tightly. "You poor thing!" Violet only shed a few tears. She'd save the rest for later that night.
Drew sent her a few texts like, "How are you doing?" "I think we had a big misunderstanding."
But she did not respond. So it was a complete surprise while sitting in church the next Sunday when Drew slid in beside her. He even grabbed her hand to hold. For some unknown reason, she did not pull away even when Jeff looked over Charlotte's shoulder to stare at their hands.
"Where's Benny?" she whispered.
"He's in kinder-church."
"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly as the congregation began singing.
Glancing up at him, she was startled by the warm look he gave her.
"I used to come here all the time, that is until my divorce. But Benny needs it," he took a deep breath before adding, "and I need it. I need to get back to my first love."
So shoulder to shoulder, side by side they sat through the sermon which frankly neither one of them could absorb, so full were their thoughts of each other.
After church, she went with Drew to get Benny. The sweet boy ran past his daddy and held his arms up for her. "Hi, neighbor!" he cried.
After eating out together, she went with Drew back to his house so he could put Benny down for a nap. Sitting close together on the couch, he once again took her hand.
"I never intended for you to see that eviction notice. I don't know why I didn't throw it away. After watching you putting a worm on my son's hook, I was caught. I truly want to rebuild for you, but would leave it just an art studio. Somehow 'I got a marrying notion.' As for you, I'd much rather you be here with me, as my wife and a mother for my boy."
When she swallowed back a gasp, he grinned and went on. "I know it's sudden like, but when I see you, I 'get all tongue-tied and smiling sideways.' We fit perfectly, like two pigs in a poke. You don't have to answer me now. I don't even have a ring," he said apologetically. I just think it's important that you know what I'm thinking. 'I jest 'got that seldom feeling.'"
Violet shook her head as their gazes caught. "'I'd admire that.'"
"What? What part do you like? Waiting to answer, or..."
"Being your wife and Benny's mother," she said hoarsely. "'My voice growed damp,' just now. But here's a marker," she picked one of Benny's from the coffee table. "Draw a ring on my finger."
"Not that marker," he blurted. "It would wash away the first time you washed your hands." The man jumped up and ran to the desk. "For this we need a permanent marker," he said grinning.
"Put it on then," she laughed and cried at the same time.
And he did after kissing her softly and gently wiping a tear away saying, "'The first tear I ever seen, a pretty thing for human gladness.'"
*Many of the colloquial quotes are from "Shepherd of the Hills," by Harold Bell Wright, an old movie starring John Wayne and set in Appalachia.
**Jesse Adkins was my great, great, great grandpa from Sparta, Tennessee and the ballad is mine.
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