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CHAPTER

SIX

Rory

I head into town to stock up on a few things, enjoying the gorgeous countryside as I drive down the mountain roads. “We picked a good spot to stay at, didn’t we, girl?” I ask Sassy, who is standing in her carrier watching out the window.

When she starts to make a chattering noise, I giggle because there are a flock of birds nearby and I suspect she envisions herself a big game hunter. “You wouldn’t know what to do with them if you caught even one, silly,” I tease.

It dawns on me that since Grampy passed away, I’ve spent most of my time by myself. I resolutely push the memory of Patrick to the far back of my mind, as our conversations typically revolved around what I was fixing for lunch and dinner, and whether or not I was going to ‘put out’ as he would sneer at me, or be a ‘cold fish’ once again.

“I might be alone but I’m not really all that lonely,” I tell my cat, who meows as if she understands the words I’m saying. “I mean, if I could find a man like Grampy, one who lets me be myself while also still loving and protecting me, I’d be content. Patrick was definitely not like that at all. While Grams enjoyed being a housewife and taking care of her home and family, I have other dreams that include traveling around the country and seeing places of interest. Plus, I enjoy hunting and fishing, so I wouldn’t mind it if the mythical man of my dreams liked doing that as well. Oh, and he has to like animals.”

That one is definitely a deal breaker as far as I’m concerned. Patrick acted like he was okay with Sassy, but she never warmed up to him at all, preferring to hide in one of her many spots she had at the farmhouse instead of by my side, which is where she typically prefers. If my man doesn’t like animals, specifically cats, I don’t care how luscious he is or if he makes my belly flutter. He’ll be gone before he can open his mouth.

Pulling into the parking lot of the small-town grocery store, I ensure the air conditioning is still running for Sassy’s sake before grabbing my purse and locking the RV down. With my list now in hand, I get a buggy and start going down the aisles gathering what I need to buy. I may only be here for a few more days, but I still need to eat and even though it’s sometimes challenging to cook for one person, I just started meal prepping.

Well, that’s what I’m calling it anyhow. I bought a set of ten multi-sectioned containers, and then I cook a family size pack of meat. A couple of cans of vegetables are spread out evenly, and then I make either fried rice, cilantro lime rice, or some mashed potatoes, and put an even amount in one of the smaller sections. Fruit rounds out my meal, and I’ve been slowly increasing my water intake.

“I need to find somewhere I can take a yoga class, or maybe even swim laps,” I murmur as I look at the watermelons. Long ago, Grampy taught me how to pick a sweet one, so when I find two, I can’t help but giggle. “Looks like watermelon for breakfast.” I’ll cut them up, then divide the chunks into reasonable portions, which I often snack on between meals. This time, though, I’ll definitely be eating it with breakfast, which is fine because I totally enjoy it.

Once I have everything on my list, plus a few things that weren’t but when I saw them, I immediately wanted and tossed them into the cart, including some chocolate ice cream, I head to the checkout area where a friendly young girl checks me out.

“Oh, I love watermelon too,” she exclaims as she rings both of mine up. “I cut it all up and put it in a huge bowl, then eat it whenever.”

Grinning at her, I reply, “I do the same thing!”

“I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new to the area or just passing through?” she questions, her hands moving quickly to run my items over the scanner.

“Just passing through, although I won’t lie, it’s so beautiful here, I’d have no problems settling down,” I admit.

These past few days spent at Fred’s favorite spot have been relaxing, even more so than the time I stayed with Dr. Terry and his wife, Judith. The fresh mountain air, the lake; both have contributed to ease my battered spirit. In fact, since I reached out to Dr. Zack and Dr. Terry both, I plan to stay another week because they have a friend who has a vet clinic about five or so miles away, and it’s almost time to get Sassy’s cast off. Mine too, but I’ll worry about me after I’m sure she’s back to herself.

“I’ve lived here all my life,” the cashier says. “Went away for about six months for college, but it wasn’t for me, so I came back home and do my classes online now.”

“I miss my grandparents’ farm where I grew up,” I quietly reply. “But I had to get out of there.”

She looks at my cast and a sad expression crosses her face. “Maybe you’ll be able to go back at some point?” she asks.

“Once the trash has been removed,” I retort, which makes her giggle.

Leaning in, she whispers, “I can shoot a tick off a raccoon’s ass if you need any help.” Then, louder, since she’s got a line forming behind me now, she states, “That’ll be forty-five twenty-eight, unless you’ve got the savings card, then it’ll be less.”

“Glory, you know she’s an out-of-towner! Here, use my card so she gets the benefits,” a grumpy voice says from behind me.

Turning slightly, I see a woman who may possibly be older than dirt based on the wrinkles that cover her face, but I see kindness in her eyes despite her grumpy tone. “Thank you for that,” I tell her, smiling. “I should probably start signing up for these things so I can get the deals.”

“Honey, a penny saved is a penny earned,” the old crone replies. “You in that RV out there? The one with the pretty cat sunning itself on the dashboard?”

I start giggling when I visualize how Sassy must look to anyone passing by. “Yes, ma’am, that’s mine. The cat’s name is Sassy and I’ve had her since she was a tiny kitten.”

“She’s a beautiful cat. Now, Steven, you need to get this young lady bagged up so she can go take care of her fur baby.”

“Yes, Mrs. Casen,” the pimply-faced teenager croaks out while I hand the clerk, Glory, my money once she tells me the revised total.

Less than five minutes later, the bag boy has me all loaded up and is pushing my cart for me. As we approach my RV, I see that Sassy is indeed sunning herself on the dashboard, her tail lazily swishing back and forth.

Once I unlock the RV, Steven hands me the bags then lifts the case of bottled water and slides it onto the floor for me. When I go to hand him some money as a tip, he refuses, saying, “We’re not allowed to take tips, ma’am.”

“But you helped me bring my stuff out to my car!” I exclaim.

“It’s part of our service,” he replies. “Besides, you wouldn’t have been able to lift the water by yourself with your cast on.”

He’s right; I actually had to have another customer put it in my cart for me. I have one of those small, countertop ice makers, but because water is different everywhere and therefore, it tastes funny sometimes, I use bottled water to make the ice.

“Can I insist?” I ask.

“You can, but truly, we don’t accept tips from customers,” he reiterates, pulling the cart slightly back from my RV.

“Then thank you for all your help. I would’ve had to get the water out one or two bottles at a time,” I say, giggling at the picture which forms in my head.

He chuckles then waves. “I hope you enjoy your stay in our town. Some people don’t like the slower life, but it’s pretty nice.”

“So, you don’t plan to leave?” I inquire, shocked that a teenager would be okay staying in a small town.

“Maybe? I don’t really know. I’m up for a cross country scholarship, but if I left there’d be nobody to help my mama out.”

“Good luck to you,” I say, stepping out from the interior so I can move to the driver’s side.

“Thanks.”

While on my way back to the campsite, I spot a roadside vegetable stand and decide to get some since the time of year is perfect for the ones I love to eat. Pulling over, I ensure Sassy is safe and secure before getting out and locking up my RV. When I see the older man sitting there, whittling on some wood, I immediately think of Grampy and have to push my tears back.

Memories assault me of being a little girl, by his side at the farmer’s market, while he worked a piece of wood as we waited for customers to make their selection. Finally in front of the old man, I smile, even though I know it’s a bit shaky, and ask, “By any chance do you have some farm fresh eggs?”

His answering grin lets me know he does as he leans over and pulls out several cartons then sets them on the table in front of him. “Sure do, little missy. How many you looking to buy?”

“I usually scramble up three every morning for me and my cat,” I admit. “If you have them, I’ll take three dozen. They’ve not been refrigerated yet, have they?” I question. Grampy added a shelf in the RV that will hold cartons of eggs, which will work perfectly as long as he hasn’t refrigerated them. My refrigerator is a smaller full sized one, but by the time I prep my meals and cut up the watermelons, it’s going to be full to the brim.

“Nope. You must be familiar with them,” he replies.

“Yes, sir. My grampy raised them and we’d take the extras, along with vegetables from the garden, down to our farmer’s market every weekend,” I say. “I know I have to wash them before I use them, but right now, I don’t have a lot of room in my fridge, so was hoping you had left them out. Does that make sense?”

“It does. They haven’t been in the fridge so you should be good. You able to store them okay in that there thing?” he questions.

I grin while nodding. “Yes, my grampy put in a storage shelf that will hold cartons perfectly without worrying that they’ll break.”

“Good, good. What else for you?” he asks.

I peruse the fruit and vegetables, finally settling on some vine-ripened tomatoes, several cucumbers, one each of a yellow squash and green zucchini, and five plums. Once he rings me up, I’m shocked at my total, which is under twenty dollars.

“Are you sure that’s enough?” I question, handing him a twenty-dollar bill.

“Not looking to make a mint off of folks who want fresh, homegrown stuff,” he advises, handing me my change. “Our garden produces more than enough to take care of me and my family, so what I bring out here to sell is the overage. We don’t want it going to waste.”

“Well, I definitely appreciate it, especially after all the years of eating what me and my grandmother grew in her garden,” I reply, taking the sack he put everything into. “You have a good day, sir, and thanks again.”

“You do the same, little missy, you do the same,” he says, waving before turning his head and spitting out a wad of chewing tobacco.

Grinning, I head back to my vehicle and quickly get everything stored away before I head back to the campground. It’s time to put this day to bed as far as I’m concerned. Even though it’s still daylight, I was up early getting work done, then all the shopping. Since it’s still a challenge doing things one-handed, I just want to fix a light dinner then read.