Page 16 of Wolves & Watercolors
He lets out an exhale, his shoulders rising and falling. Dark lashes frame his eyes as he looks into the distance. “No, but I didn’t have any other plans. When I was a teenager, the gardener at the time, Tansy, needed help and I was looking for a job.” He pauses, the shadow of a smile on his face. “I loved it. It’s predictable, but then it’s not because you’re partnering with nature. Like this year it’s been so warm, I finished all my seedling transplanting last week. Almost a month earlier than last year.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“And there’s a puzzle aspect to it. I can test the soil and add whatever the plants need, but sometimes it’s not that obvious. I get to diagnose problems and figure out solutions. Nothing is rushed and I like the slower pace.”
“That sounds really nice right about now,” I murmur, imagining my life slowing down. Looking more like today and less like my typical frantic race between jobs and galleries, staying up late at night to paint in terrible lighting.
“Why?” His question is so blunt, it takes me a moment to string my thoughts into a coherent answer.
Setting my sandwich down, I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “Things aren’t like this at home. It’s always a mad rush. It’s exhausting.”
His mouth thins, those dimples reappearing though it isn’t from a smile. Disappointment, maybe.
“It’ll be worth it someday. If I keep hustling and getting my paintings out there, eventually they’ll earn enough that I don’t have to bartend or have a dozen roommates.”
“You have a dozen roommates?” he asks, his hands gripping the table.
I can’t help but laugh at him, but he doesn’t seem offended. “No, just making a point. I only have two right now, well three.”
His brow furrows like he’s really trying to understand me. “And you have a house out there?”
“Just an apartment. Right now I have the second bedroom to myself, though I doubt that’ll be the case very long.”
“Why?”
This is getting into uncomfortable territory. Squirming, I pick at my chips and pop a couple of shards into my mouth. But when I finish chewing and swallowing, he is still trained on me and waiting for an answer.
“We can’t make rent without adding another roommate.”
Now it’s my turn to be embarrassed, for a much more legitimate reason than saying an awkward sentence about gardening tools.
“That sounds difficult,” he says, releasing me from my churning thoughts.
“It’s not fun.”
Cedar looks at me for a long moment. His dimples appear and disappear as his jaw grinds. In the end, he decides to say nothing. My breath rushes out of me when he stands and gathers up our paper plates.
“I’m heading back to work. I might use the blower to help with some leaves, so you might want to avoid the garden this afternoon.” His dismissal isn’t harsh, just practical. Still, it stings.
“Sure, totally. I’ll see you around.”
Hours later, I sprawl across the porch, staring up at the swaying branches around the cabin’s roof line. I’m simultaneously out of creative drive for the day, but also exploding with inspiration. I was so right about this visit being good for my work.
Hazel leans over me, her sudden appearance startling me. I sit up fast enough to send a wave of dizziness through me. Hands anchored on the porch, I rotate to face her.
“Have a good day?” she asks, easing down beside me.
“Actually, it was very nice! I spent the morning in the garden.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks hollow as she chews them.
“Cedar was nice enough to let me plant some beets and spinach. We’ve got to grow lots of healthy vegetables for Mama and Baby.” With a grin, I place my palm over her belly.
Her head tips back, eyes closed. The dark shadows under her eyes look worse.
“Are you getting enough sleep, sis?”
Hazel’s dry laugh confirms my suspicions. “I’m too uncomfortable to sleep. I can’t wait for this baby to get here so I’m not hurting constantly.” She rubs at where her belly meets her hip.
