Plots and Pans by Kelly Eileen Hake

Author:Kelly Eileen Hake
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Christian, Fiction
ISBN: 9781620299586
Publisher: Shiloh Run Press
Published: 2014-04-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Say something! Desta couldn’t figure whether the voice in her head and the voice in her heart joined forces to yell at her or if one of them was trying to holler at Ralph. Either way, her nerves jangled.

She and Ralph left Tucker and Jess in the kitchen to talk over whatever crossed their minds, which meant they’d be crossing a lot of other things before they got through. Swords if they could’ve reached such a pair of weapons, words since those could cut just as deep, and—though Desta hadn’t seen it firsthand as of yet, she felt sure the day would come—even crossed eyes when the whole hullabaloo got to be too much.

But however they chose to say it, at least those two were talking to each other instead of themselves. Desta couldn’t think of a single thing that didn’t sound false, forward, or flat-out silly, and Ralph showed no signs of opening a discussion. She started to sigh, caught herself, and glanced sideways to see if Ralph took notice of the odd, hiccuping sort of noise that came out instead.

“Thinkin’ on how you want to get on with things?” He gestured in the general direction of her garden and the barren plot beyond.

You got no idea. Desta tightened her lips against the laugh, refusing to let loose another strange sound. It got harder the more she thought about it. For all that back-and-forth about cultivating conversation, I sure don’t have much to get to work with!

“Always thinkin’ out how to get on with something or other, but as for the garden, Simon and I mapped it out ages ago. I’ll dig it out of his study for us to follow—wouldn’t set right to change anything now that he can’t have his say anymore.” She drew a shallow breath, unable to avoid the pricks of grief imbedded in the memory.

Funny thing about painful memories—once you got prepared for the pain in them, you stopped thinking of those times as often. Maybe that was how it worked; time wore away the sharp edges until even the worst memories slid alongside less hurtful ones. But grief for Simon was still fresh enough to catch her off guard—and often.

“Some folks like flowers, but Mr. Culpepper had a practical bent. I’m thinking he’d appreciate yore choice to honor his memory this way. Keeps a bit of him alive and growing alongside you.”

She sniffed again, comforted by his understanding. “I hadn’t thought of it like a tribute, but now I will. A place to think on him surrounded by life and plenty … we have to make sure it thrives.”

“Lotsa ways to go ’bout building something up,” he told her, “with only one way to tear it down. We’ll build this garden yore brother’s way, but lay the groundwork with extra-special care.”

“I don’t think I could stand it if ‘n I saw Simon’s memory garden full of withered, dying things,” she admitted. “So tear away anything that’s kept it from bearing fruit so we can start fresh.

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