Last of the Summer Tomatoes (3 page)

“How many times have I told you not to slam the brakes like that?” His voice wasn’t exactly angry but not too pleased either.

“At least a hundred times, and it’ll be a hundred more before I even begin to listen.” Glenda got out of the car and gave him a peck on the lips. She popped the trunk, then took one piece of luggage while he took the other. Kyle cautiously stepped out of the car, not sure what to expect. Was he mad at her? Would he hit her?

Glenda came around and put her arm around his shoulders. “Walt, this is Kyle. Kyle, this is my husband Walt.”

Kyle cautiously held out his hand, Walt accepted the gesture and shook Kyle’s hand, giving him a wide smile. “Welcome, Kyle. Hope you’re hungry; Glenda here put on a roast before she left.”

“I… I guess so, sir.”

Walt let out a laugh. “Last time I was called sir was in the army. How about just Walt?”

“Oh… okay.” Kyle was really out of his element now. Every older person in his neighborhood was Mr. this or Mrs. that, and if you forgot a name, it was sir or ma’am. This familiarity with older adults was going to take some getting used to.

“Let’s drag all your stuff upstairs to your room. It’s all a little on the girlie side, but I think we can tone it down for you. My Glenda likes her lace and frills a bit too much. I swear, if she had her way, even the barns would have curtains.”

Glenda gave Walt a light swat. “Oh come on now, I’m not that bad.”

He turned and gave her cheek a kiss. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.” He stepped up onto the porch and held the door open for them. “Head up the stairs, last room at the end of the hallway. It overlooks the drive.” Walt looked over Kyle’s crossed arms and his sketchpad. “An artist I see. Well, the room faces west. You should get some good sunsets to draw, if that’s what you’re into.”

“I… I draw just about anything.” Kyle kept his head down as he entered the house. He glanced to the left of the kitchen area and then to the right to what looked like a living room. In front of him was the staircase, paintings of all sizes covering the walls.

“My brother, God rest his soul… he was an artist. Drove my father crazy. The paintings along the wall there are his.” Walt fingered one of the ornate wooden frames.

Kyle looked closely at the paintings as he slowly took the stairs. They were beautiful landscapes, covering all seasons. He felt drawn to them, wanting to gaze at them longer than the trip up the stairs took.

“He was good, wasn’t he?” Glenda stopped to admire one of a log cabin in the snow.

“Yeah, these are… beautiful.” Kyle stopped suddenly and looked down, not wanting to deal with any disapproval he’d see for voicing his opinion.

“Kyle? Is there a problem, son?” Walt had stopped at the top of the stairs.

“No, si… no. Just… nice paintings your brother did.”

“They are beautiful. He had an eye, that’s for certain. Now, let’s get you settled.” Walt continued down the hall to the last bedroom and opened the door. He gestured for Kyle to enter, then set the luggage down. “As I said, a little girlie. You’re welcome to move things around a bit, although I wouldn’t try to move the bed, it’s as heavy as all get out. We can take some of the flower paintings down, and I don’t think you need all those lace throw pillows.” Walt snorted.

“No, it’s fine. It’s different.”

“And Walt here wouldn’t know fine furnishings if they beat him over the head with the catalog.” Glenda snaked her arm around Walt’s waist.

“Not fit for a boy, hell he’s almost a man, Glenda.” Walt gave her a squeeze.

Kyle was really confused now. They seemed to be arguing, but their body language was all wrong. He looked around the room, not sure what to do with himself. Huge wooden framed bed, dresser with a mirror, easy chair in the corner, it was larger than both of the bedrooms in his own family’s apartment. He slowly put his backpack down on the bed, still hugging his sketchpad.

“Kyle, what do you think? You want to change anything? I’m sure Sam wouldn’t mind you borrowing some of his posters. He’s got mainly sports stuff, I think a few of rock ’n’ roll bands.” Glenda put one of his bags on the bed.

“No, this is fine, really. I… um, I think it’s nice. Big.”

“We like it big out here in the country. I had a studio apartment in the city when I went to college. I think the closet in here is bigger than what I had.” Glenda tossed a few of the lace throw pillows into said closet.

“You lived in the city?”

Glenda laughed and poked Walt. “We both did. Met in school. I got my degree in English Lit, my Walt went the more sensible route, agricultural engineering.”

“Wow, I didn’t think….” Kyle abruptly stopped, surprised at himself for actually attempting to express what he thought.

“What, that farmers go to college?” Walt placed the other bag on the bed.

“No, sir… I mean Mr. Johnson… Walt.” Kyle’s voice trailed off, and he looked at the floor. He steeled himself for at least a verbal berating. Instead, he felt Glenda’s arms wrap around him, her voice soft and low.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through and you don’t need to share. But know this, while you are here, you can ask questions about anything, you can express what you feel and think, provided you use proper language, and no one will think less of you or yell at you.”

Kyle felt like crying, but he swallowed it down. He wouldn’t break down in front of these strangers, no matter how kind they seemed to be. But he knew one thing; he’d never get tired of Glenda’s hugs.

“Okay now, we’re all on the same page. Let’s get cleaned up for dinner. The bathroom is two doors down on the right. Then we’ll show you around the farm before sunset.”

“Thank you.” Kyle gave her a half smile.

“Now you settle in, unpack, and we’ll see you downstairs in fifteen minutes, okay?” Walt ruffled his hair.

Kyle nodded; Glenda and Walt left him alone… alone with his thoughts. He took a deep breath and started to unpack—putting his clothes in the dresser, laying out his art supplies on top. He didn’t know what to think about farmers going to college, or farmers who liked art. This wasn’t what he’d read about on all those websites. He expected hard-ass, leather-skinned people with deep wrinkles, dusty clothes, and chewing tobacco. Not well-educated, normal-looking, loving people. He hung up his jacket then headed back down the stairs to the wonderful smells in the kitchen.

Four

K
YLE
didn’t know the last time he’d eaten so well. The food tasted different, much… more than what he was used to. The roast had an actual flavor, not just the marinade it was cooked in. The vegetables had much more color and crunch, definitely not from a can. And the bread! He could have made a meal on it all by itself. It wasn’t that bagged stuff and had real butter. He’d never had real butter; way too expensive compared to the ninety-nine cent margarine his mom bought. But he was careful not to take too much.

“So, Kyle, how was the trip from the city?” Walt passed the bread basket around. Kyle wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take another piece or not, so he handed it to Glenda.

“Um, fine. Long. Hot.”

“Yep, been a hot spring, that’s for sure. Had to water the garden daily. Heck, it could probably take a good watering twice a day unless we get more rain soon.”

Kyle noticed Glenda looking at his plate. Had he taken too much? She motioned to the mashed potatoes.

“You want more? You haven’t eaten much. Or did the trip upset your stomach?”

“More?”

“There’s plenty. You want more, take it. Here.” Glenda picked up his now empty plate and put more roast beef and potatoes on it.

“I don’t want to impose.”

Glenda sat back a little. “It’s no imposition. We don’t intend for you to starve. Eat up, you’re a growing boy.”

Kyle stared down at his refilled plate. He never took seconds, mainly because there usually wasn’t much left over and whatever was went with Hank for his lunch. He picked up his fork to enjoy what was essentially a second meal for him. It was just as divine as his first plate.

“Well, Glenda, another fine meal you’ve created for us. Thank you.” Walt stood up and gave Glenda a kiss.

“There’s dessert, dear.”

“Let me go check on the cows real quick, let Kyle here finish his plate. Want to check on our expectant mothers.”

“Okay, but don’t take long. I made your favorite, peach cobbler.” Walt put his baseball cap on to head outside.

Glenda turned back to the table. “So, Kyle, how’s city life these days?”

Kyle shrugged. “A lot noisier than here, that’s for sure. A lot more light.”

“I can remember my first night in the city; I couldn’t sleep. All those horns honking, traffic, streetlights.” She gave a little laugh. “If you’re used to all that, the quiet may drive you nuts.”

“I… I’ll be okay.” He finished off what was on his plate.

“Well, we’ll take it easy on you the first couple of days until you acclimate. It affects the best of us. When Sam comes home, he’s a zombie for a day or so until he gets used to the quiet again.”

Walt came back in, hanging his cap back on the hook. “Cows seem fine. One is going to deliver any day now.”

Glenda got up, gathering the dishes. “You call Doc Cooper to put him on alert?”

“Yeah, called him this morning. I hope we don’t need him; it always stresses the cows out to have a stranger around when they’re delivering.”

“We’ve been lucky so far.”

“Yep. Now, where’s that pie?”

Glenda laughed. “You and your son… got the worst sweet tooth around.”

“You know it.”

They all sat down to what Kyle could only call sugar heaven on a plate. Warm peach cobbler with real vanilla ice cream. The ice cream had actual bits of vanilla beans in it; Kyle had never tasted anything so fresh, smooth… rich. Kyle wondered if this was just because it was his first night there or if they actually ate like this all the time. Neither Glenda nor Walt was overweight in the least, so he surmised this was a special occasion, just for him.

Walt pushed his plate back, rubbing the little bit of stomach he had. “You’ve outdone yourself, dear.”

“It’s a new recipe. Thought I’d try it out on our newest addition. You like it Kyle?”

Kyle looked up through his eyelashes. “It was very good.”

“Glad you liked it. Do you have a favorite dessert?”

Kyle wasn’t about to admit he didn’t get to have dessert very often, other than maybe a frozen fudge bar now and then. “No, not really.”

“We’ll try some different stuff. Sam’s favorite is chocolate cake.”

“When is that son of ours due in?” Walt stuck his spoon back into the cobbler for a bite.

Glenda slapped his hand, digging out more for Walt. “A couple of days. He was wrapping up his finals last we talked.”

“Well, I think Kyle here and I, we can manage.” He looked out the window to the setting sun. “How about we hold off on the farm tour until tomorrow?”

Kyle didn’t really know how to respond. He wasn’t used to having options or being asked his opinion. He shrugged. “Whatever you think is best.”

“Tomorrow, then. Give you some time to settle in.” He grabbed Glenda as she walked by, and she leaned down for a kiss. “Shall we all retire to the living room, watch some TV? I would love some time with my best girl.”

“Kyle, you have a favorite TV program?” Glenda packed up the remains of the peach cobbler.

“No, not really.”

“You more of a reader?”

“I like sketching when I can.”

“Well, you’re welcome to watch TV with Walt and me or you can go sketch. There’s pretty good lighting in the screened-in porch. It’s off the back of the house, down the main hall.”

“I… I’d like to sketch if that’s okay.”

Glenda gave Kyle’s shoulder a pat. “You do whatever you want. Just know we get up early, before five, so get to bed at a decent time.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Walt and Glenda headed toward the living room; Kyle went upstairs and grabbed his pencils and sketchpad. He went to the back of the house to the screened-in porch. He got comfortable in an overstuffed chair, able for the first time in his life to spread out and not hide what he was doing. He looked out over the horizon, to the last bit of the setting sun and got busy.

G
RAY
shadows were forming on the wall as Kyle cracked an eye open. The clock read 4:45; at first he didn’t know where he was or why he was awake at such an ungodly hour, but then he heard rustling downstairs in the kitchen. Within minutes he smelled the scent of bacon drifting up the stairs. A knock on the door roused him fully.

“Kyle? You awake? Time to get up, son.” Walt’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Yes, I’m awake. I’ll be down soon.”

“Good. I want to show you the milking operation this morning. Wear your jacket as it’s still a little cool outside.”

“Okay.” Kyle heard Walt’s footsteps head down the stairs. He planted his feet on the cool hardwood floor, trying to make sense of getting up before dawn. He knew from what he’d read that farmers got up early, but this wasn’t what he’d expected. He rubbed his face, then fumbled for the switch on the lamp next to his bed. Soft light illuminated the room. He grabbed his small bag filled with toiletries and headed to the bathroom.