Find all the parts of this story here.
Legacy
Cecilia showed up at Gary’s farmhouse at 4:30 Friday evening, panicking about the short timeline. It wasn’t that she couldn’t make anything in an hour and a half, but rather that she had wanted to make something more special than she now could.
She brought with her a small army of tools and supplies that hadn’t previously resided in Gary’s kitchen: a small saucepan (did he only cook in bulk?), a knife sharpener (his knives likely hadn’t greeted one since before Cecilia was born), olive oil (he had the frighteningly unknown and unhealthy ‘vegetable oil’ bottle ubiquitous in 90’s kitchens), and baggies of spices and herbs (salt and pepper were the extent of his, and the tin of pre-ground black pepper looked nearly vintage). With these and the fresh ingredients she had picked up today, she felt she could make a decent meal.
Today she knew to set her own place at the table, so it wasn’t awkward when 6:00 rolled around and Gary and Ephraim tromped inside. There was a lack of greeting from Gary, and a repeat of yesterday’s ‘heya’ from Ephraim. Was this her new normal? Gary said a prayer when they had all sat down, the same one as yesterday as well. Definitely the norm here.
“If’n ya saw mah sign at church, ya musta bin there Sunday. I don’ recall seein’ ya,” Gary spoke after his first few bites of chicken in cream sauce.
“I- I was there,” she replied, confused and feeling oddly defensive. “It was my first time.”
“Ah,” Gary nodded sagely, as if she had explained some secret to the universe. She decided to focus on bites of asparagus salad.
“Did you just move to the area?” Ephraim took up the mantle of conversation, his voice surprisingly deep and rich for a young man with a slender body.
“Two weeks ago,” she replied, then quickly took another bite to discourage personal questions.
“Where are you from?” Ephraim did not get the hint. Sadly, Gary looked just as interested in the answer as Ephraim.
“Uh, Madison.” Maybe if she didn’t make eye contact they would stop?
“That’s a big change, Madison to a small town,” Ephraim commented.
“Hmmf,” Gary grunted. “‘s better here.”
Ephraim laughed out loud. “You’re biased, Gary,” he argued. “You’ve never lived anywhere else.”
“Nuthin’ better’n home ‘n the farm,” Gary said with a definitive nod.
Thank you, Gary, for taking over the conversation!
“You know I agree, Gary. I just like yanking your chain on occasion,” Ephraim smiled indulgently.
“Hmmf.”
“What made you choose New Albany?” Ephraim returned the conversation to Cecilia.
No! Why couldn’t he keep teasing Gary?
“Um…”
She wrinkled her forehead. Why had she come here? Certainly she hadn’t expected to make dinner for Gary and Ephraim. Nor was it the church, or the company she expected to keep.
Oh, yeah. Work.
“I got a job,” she spoke into the pained silence.
Ephraim raised an eyebrow, looking like he was about to call her bluff. She decided to go on the offense.
“The hours were better here than most places in Madison, with a lower cost of living. It’s more economical. Have you always lived here?”
There. Get them talking.
“Yup,” Ephraim replied, then grinned like he knew what she was up to. She just looked down at her plate and said no more.
“Boy…” Gary drawled in a warning tone.
Ephraim, the sass, laughed out loud. “Okay, okay,” he capitulated to another growl from Gary, palms up in defeat. “Sorry,” he muttered, then took a drink of water before continuing.
“Yes, I was born and raised here. My parents live in town. I’ve been working for Gary for – what, almost a decade now? Yeah, about that long. I think I started picking strawberries when I was 12,” Ephraim mused.
“Eatin’ more’n ya picked,” Gary said with a snort.
Ephraim laughed in agreement. “Yeah, but you didn’t mind.”
“Hmmf,” was all Gary would say. Still, Cecilia noticed he didn’t seem upset. There was definitely a special place in crusty Gary Brunn’s heart for his apprentice.
“How long have you had the farm, Mr. Brunn?” Cecilia prompted, hoping to keep them talking.
“Yer kin call me Gary, ya know.” He gave her the side eye, so she nodded in acknowledgement. “This were mah dad’s farm, and muh grand-dad’s afore him. ‘snuf to live on and summat to help ’round town ‘casionally. None ‘o my kids wanted it, an’ they moved so fer ‘way my grandkids don’t know th’ place.”
“What will happen when you, uh, can’t work anymore?” Cecilia asked.
“Ephraim kin have it, if’n he wants,” Gary shrugged as if it didn’t matter.
“But… ” her brow furrowed. “Why didn’t your kids want the farm? It’s their legacy.”
Gary snorted. “Legacy don’t matter to these mod’rn kids.”
Brow furrowed, Cecilia only voiced her disagreement to herself. Maybe not to some kids, but to others, having a legacy as beautiful as this farm might have made all the difference in the world.