4. Lennie

4

LENNIE

“ E verything is coming together. Another day or two, and the real fun can begin,” Momma Catherine states.

“The decorating,” we both say in unison with laughter in our voices. Yesterday, after everyone left, we sat down at the kitchen table and wrote a list, most important to least important. The faucet dripping in the sink being number one. The drip, drip, drip already drove me crazy, and I hadn’t even received my first water bill yet. Poppa Russell pulled up the hardware store on his phone, told me to pick out the one I liked that has the correct holes for the placement on the sink, and he’d pick it up on his way over this morning. My flabber was gasted looking at the sheer amount to choose from, as well as the cost. My bank account has been dwindling, and the only plus side of spending all of this money is I don’t have a mortgage payment. I’ll be able to recoup the last of my savings once I start my new job at the medical office in town.

The rest of this week is for getting everything in order, the house as well as my life. Which is probably why when Catherine and Russell offered to stay back and help, while I was reluctant, I knew I’d never get everything done in a timely manner by myself.

“Depending on how long it takes Russell, we may be able to start painting the ceilings today, finish the walls tomorrow, and decorate the following day.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“And what exactly are you scheming?” I ask.

“How do you know I’m planning, hmm?” We’re sitting on the front porch on new-to-me furniture, courtesy of this crazy amazing family that’s adopted Minnie and me. It’s secondhand from a garage sale they happened to stop by on the way here the first day. The deal was too good, and between Catherine and Minnie, they knew I’d love it. What’s not to love? Resin wicker in a wood tone plus cushions. Two chairs, a loveseat, coffee table, and an end table. Apparently, the other one broke. Not a big loss. This is plenty for me.

“You are, aren’t you?” I arch my eyebrow and take a sip of the iced sweet tea I made last night. When the crowd cleared and my two adopted parents left for their hotel room, I unpacked the kitchen. Minus what I’d put around the sink or under it.

“Maybe. I saw a couple of thrift stores yesterday. I know you won’t accept cash, and you’ll say we’ve done enough.” Catherine makes a pshh noise the minute I try to tell her they have. “Honey, let us do this for you. We’ve helped all our boys and their wives. Our grandchildren are set for either college or to start their own business. We’re helping Minnie and Clay as well.” I knew this. My sister told me the Johnsons wanted to help with their wedding. Clay grumbled he could pay for it, but Minnie shushed him and said that they’d somehow manage to give back in a way that would mean more than money. “We’d do the same for Amos and Genevieve, but they’re set for whatever comes their way. We’ll just put a little something aside for their children instead.” I nod, swallowing a lump so thick in my throat.

Children.

I’m not upset others can have them. I’m elated, and yet there’s still that sting in the back of my mind that says I’m a failure.

“Momma Catherine.” I clear the clog of emotion trying to surface. I’ve had little to no downtime to digest all of the sudden changes, and it seems my mind is going a million miles an hour.

“I know, and I’m so incredibly sorry for what you’ve been through.” She clasps my fingers with hers, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against her, then puts her arm around my shoulder, giving me more than my own mother ever did.

“It’s okay. I mean, maybe not all the time, and I’ll have my moments, but everything will work out, eventually.” My therapist told me running from my problems and closing myself off won’t help in the long run. The goal is to allow myself to feel, a hard task when you’re used to holding everything in.

“You’re a strong woman, Lennon Sinclair. You’ve been put through the wringer, and while it may not seem like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel right now, there is. And, Lennie, you’re the light guiding the way.” I take a deep breath, trying to smile through her too-kind words.

“Thank you, it means a lot that you see me that way. I promise I’m working to one day see that in myself as well. Now, back to you and the shopping fiasco.” I take a sip of my tea, enjoying the cold sweetness while cooling off from mowing the front yard. The push mower I found in the shed out back today tried to take me out. It’s not that I haven’t had to mow, do homeowner-type stuff. It was just that I had help before. Now that I’m essentially on my own and with a yard, the difference is drastic. When I woke up this morning, I looked out the front window and knew I’d need to take matters into my own hands. A quick look in the shed after finding the push mower, which didn’t have a self-propel, showed me there was a gas can, and that’s about it. I took a quick picture of the mower and went to the small local hardware store in lieu of the bigger one in town. The older gentleman told me what to look for and gave me what I needed to attempt to get it started.

It took me a few minutes and a lot of muscles I haven’t used in entirely too long, but when I got the damn thing running, well, I felt like I could conquer the world. Of course, my new neighbor would take that moment to step outside and watch me do a little shimmy and shake in my excitement. He also didn’t have a shirt on, and when he went about his merry way, starting at a slow jog, well, I’m lucky to not have drooled down my shirt. Still, I watched him the entire time until I had to make a turn with the mower or when he rounded the street corner.

“You’ll get there. Now, like I was saying, there were a couple of thrift stores we drove by on the way here. I noticed when we brought your bedroom set in that you were missing a couple of things. For instance, a headboard and footboard as well as nightstands. I just so happened to see in the store front we passed by had a few, and if all goes well and you like anything, we’ll get it for you. And this is where I hope you’ll graciously accept because this old lady simply cannot and will not leave, especially to go on vacation, knowing you’re going to be working your tail off at a new job, coming home and still needing to work around here.”

I’m saved from responding with the opening of the front door. Poppa Russell steps out and says, “Well, that’s done. You ladies want to grab a bite to eat before we go check out the paint?”

“Sure,” I reply.

“Yep, and we’re going to stop at the thrift stores, too. Lennon didn’t say no, and she didn’t say yes. There’s no harm in taking a gander.” Russell smirks at his wife. Meanwhile, I have to stifle a laugh.

“Works for me. I’m going to introduce myself to your neighbor, and then we can get the show on the road.” He does his usual, pulling out his suspenders with his thumbs. A trait Case, Trey’s son and their grandson, has taken a liking to. I’ve yet to meet everyone in person, but the pictures, the calls, and many FaceTime conversations make me feel like I know them as well as I know Minnie.

“Oh,” I say, perking up in my chair. The couple of glances I’ve had of the mysterious man haven’t been enough.

“Now, that’s what you call a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.” Catherine fans herself. This time, he’s in a shirt, navy in color with white lettering emblazoned on the back, WOFD with a Maltese cross. An eight-point design symbolizing protection, courage, and selflessness. Thank you, drama television, for keeping me up to date on firefighters and medics. A pair of denim jeans encases his bottom half along with a pair of boots. His backwards hat has me letting out a small sigh, one I can’t cover up.

“Mhhhmm, leave it to my Russ. He’ll have his name, age, and marital status. You all think I’m a busybody, but I’ve got nothing on that man,” she says with a soft chuckle.

“He’s good to look at, that’s it. I’m not looking for a relationship. Being single these past however many months has taught me I like the single life. Plus, I’m pretty sure my therapist would have something to say about jumping into any type of relationship while still fixing myself.” I sit back in my seat, crossing one arm along my stomach and propping my other arm up while finishing my drink.

“Well, it sure doesn’t hurt to look, honey.”

“It doesn’t,” I agree. Even when my body is telling me a hell of a lot differently.