CHAPTER NINE
JJ—
After steaks on the grill, my brothers and I sit on the porch, drinking beer and watching a billion stars come out. It’s late, and they crash here. I put two of them in the loft and the other two on the pull-out sofa bed. That leaves me on a chair and ottoman.
When the sun rises, I’m stiff and sore, but the aroma of coffee has me stretching and standing. I find Rebecca in the kitchen baking blueberry muffins.
Heading straight for the pot, I pour myself a mug, then turn and lean against the sink and watch her. She’s got one of my grandmother's old-fashioned ceramic bowls and is stirring up the batter, the muffin tin already shiny with butter.
Her eyes shift to me with a grin. “You sleep well?”
“No,” I grumble. “Someone didn’t offer to share her big queen bed with me. Now I have a stiff neck.”
“Poor baby. You want to start that slab of bacon in the skillet?”
“Sure.” I flick the burner on and put the cast-iron skillet, already lined with slices of bacon, on to heat. Soon, it's sizzling in the pan.
I hear my brothers rousing and grin. “Works every time. You want to wake a biker, start frying bacon.”
Rebecca gets the muffins in the oven, then beats up a dozen eggs. “You want to set the table while I scramble these eggs?”
“Will do.” I grab a stack of plates and a handful of forks and lay them out in a pile in the center of the dining room table.
Rebecca lifts a brow. “That’s how you set the table?”
“For this crew, it is.”
Ghost and Hammer tromp down the stairs, and Boot and Griz come in from the living room.
“I smell bacon,” Griz says, yawning and scratching his chest.
Ghost cocks his head. “There coffee?”
I pour him a mug, and the others, too. “Take a seat. It’s almost ready.”
Soon, we’re all gathered at the dining table, passing around a bowl of scrambled eggs, a platter of crispy bacon, and hot muffins from the oven.
I let the fire burn overnight, and its crackling embers glow in the hearth.
“So, what are you gonna do with all those pumpkins, brother?” Ghost asks, forking up some eggs.
“Sell ‘em, I guess.”
“You’re gonna need to spread them out over that field. You can’t sell them out of those pallet containers,” Boot advises.
“Guess that’s gonna take all day,” I mutter.
“Me and the boys can help. Should be able to knock it out in an hour or two,” Ghost offers.
“Thanks, VP,” I say. “You’ve been a lifesaver. I’d still be unloading that truck if you hadn’t come to help.”
Boot peers at Rebecca. “You figure out a place where you want that old truck yet?”
“There’s a small grouping of pine trees to the side of the shed across from the area that JJ’s grandfather used to sell pre-cut trees.
I thought I’d use the shed for a gift shop and concession area.
If we could put the truck in front of those pine trees, I think it’d be the perfect place for customers to take selfies. ”
Boot nods. “Hammer and I can see about getting it set up; you just show us which way you want it facing, okay?”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“Thank you for the food. It’s nice to have a home-cooked meal when we’re on the road.”
“You find what you were looking for when you came up here, VP?” I ask.
Ghost sips his coffee. “Gotta run it by Shades, but we think we found a spot west of Chattanooga. Little town called South Pittsburg. It’s not far across the state line. It’s about three hours from here, but we’re looking at other spots, too. One along I-65 and one north of Chattanooga.”
The men finish eating and lean back in their chairs.
Hammer glances around the place. “I like this cabin, JJ. Did you come up here as a kid?”
“Every year.” I stand abruptly. Last thing I want to do is talk about my childhood. “Anybody need more coffee?”
“I’ll take some, if you’re offering,” Griz replies.
When I return with the pot, I catch Rebecca’s eyes on me. Sometimes I swear she knows what’s going on in my head.
I go around the table, topping off mugs, then return the pot to the coffeemaker and take my seat.
Ghost studies me and sips his coffee. “We finish this cup; we can get started on the pumpkins. We need to get out of here by noon. Gotta long ride home to Birmingham. Gotta admit, though, it’s some pretty country up here, and the fresh mountain air is fantastic.”
We polish off the coffee, and the boys all thank Rebecca for breakfast. We head outside and spend hours lining the big field next to the long drive with rows of pumpkins, trying to sort them by size.
Rebecca asks us to set aside any small ones because she’s got a plan to paint some of them, and when we’re through, we’ve got a pile of about two dozen for her.
We’re all breathing hard by the time we finish. I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. “You want to show the guys where you want the truck?”
“Right.” She leads Boot over to the area. “I think angled this way, don’t you? With the driver’s door on this side.”
“That’ll work.” He and Hammer push it into place, and I have to admit, it looks fantastic.
Rebecca and I stand back and study it.
“We need a sign,” she says.
“I can make one. You should also paint the name or whatever logo you come up with on the door.”
“That’s a great idea.”
The black lab trots over from the barn and jumps in the bed, then sits and stares at us.
“What are you doing, you goofball?” I say, moving forward to scratch his ears.
“Well, we’re gonna head out now. Good luck with the sale,” Ghost says.
I grab his hand in a wrestler’s hold and clasp his shoulder. “Thanks, VP. Couldn’t have done it without you guys.”
Soon, they’re pulling out, and Rebecca and I stand, watching them go.
Once the roaring engines fade down the road, it's quiet again.
“We need to put up flyers in town.” Rebecca nods toward the field of orange pumpkins. “Advertise we’ve got these for sale.”
“How much do we sell them for?” I ask, totally clueless.
“I have no idea. Maybe I need to see how much the grocery store sells theirs for or that tractor supply place. I think they had pumpkins out front.”
“You think people are really going to drive all the way out here if they can get one at the grocery store in town?”
She bites her lip. “We need something to make it worth the drive. Got any ideas?”
My brows lift. “This is your deal.”
Her hand lands on her hip. “My deal? Why is it my deal?”
“Because I want to sell the place, and you want to make a go of it.”
“Regardless, we’re partners now, so help me think of something.”
I fold my arms and try to think what would get me to come out here. “If we can get the kids to want to come, then the parents will bring them.”
“How do we do that?”
I think a minute. “Hayrides.”
“Hayrides?”
“Yeah. Gramps has a tractor and a flatbed we can line with straw… if the tires aren’t flat and if the tractor still runs.”
“Okay. That’s one thing. Maybe we can come up with some more.”
“You could sell apple cider or caramel apples.”
“I know.” Rebecca snaps her fingers. “We could have a bonfire and get stuff to make s’mores.”
“This is all gonna cost us.”
“JJ, we’ve got to unload these pumpkins.”
She’s right about that. I sigh. “Fine. Let’s go buy some stuff and print some flyers.”
After another run to town, we’re both exhausted from putting flyers up all over, but we garnered some interest. On the drive back, Rebecca looks over at me. “You think there’s a way we could rig up some music?”
“Gramps always had Christmas carols playing, so I know he had some speakers wired up by the barn. Why?”
“We could play some Halloween music. You know, like Monster Mash and stuff like that.”
“I’ll see if it still works,” I reply.
“We’ll want it working by Christmas tree time for sure.”
I glance toward the barn and the road that leads toward the acres of Christmas trees. “You know we still need to find time to shape all the trees, like that guy told us.”
“After Halloween. We don’t have time now.”
“It’s next weekend, so I hope there are still some people who need a pumpkin.”
“I put on the flyer we’d be open tomorrow at 10am, so we better get a payment app set up. Do you think we got enough cider and s’mores supplies?”
“The bed of the truck is full of bags. If we run out, too bad. First come, first served, I say. We already spent a fortune.”
“I suppose you’re right. God, I hope this isn’t a disaster.”
“Why would it be a disaster? It’s just a bunch of pumpkins. You’re supposed to be the positive one. Don’t go panicking on me now, girl.”
“You’re right. Think positive. We can do this.”
“Damn right, we can.”
We unload the supplies, and I head to the barn to set up the speakers and find the old boombox Gramps used. There’s a Christmas cassette still inside it, and I grin, setting it aside. I dig through a drawer at his tool bench and find a few more and even two Halloween tapes.
When I come inside, Rebecca’s got the mini pumpkins spread out on the dining table, painting goofy faces on them.
“They look good,” I say.
“Do you think so? We’re going to sell them.”
“I got the music worked out; even found some old Halloween tapes we can use.”
“That’s great. Oh, I hope everything goes well.”
“I’m sure it will. I’m beat. I’m goin’ up.”
“Okay. I just have a few more to do. Will the light bother you?”
“Nah.” I glance to the hearth. “You want me to start a fire?”
“That would be nice. Thanks.”
I throw a couple of logs on the grate and add some kindling. Soon, the flames lick over the logs, the hickory wood crackling and snapping.
Straightening, I turn to find Rebecca watching me, her eyes glittering in the firelight.
She’s beautiful sitting there, her hair gleaming, and her face soft.
I have to remind myself she’s my brother’s—correction…
was my brother’s. Does the loyalty still hold?
Everything about the situation screams off-limits in my brain, but other parts of my body don’t give a damn.
They argue my brother is gone, and I owe him nothing.
Shit, JJ. Get those ideas right out of your head. You cannot have this girl.
I can imagine what my family would tell her. They’d say I was just using her to get back at them and David. I can almost hear the lies they’d spew.
“Thanks for building the fire,” she whispers.
“Sure.” I run my palms down my jeans. “Well, don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t. Goodnight, JJ.”
“Yeah, you too.” I stride to the stairs and jog up them, then change to a pair of sweats and lay on the bed, my hands stacked under my head, my eyes on the ceiling.
I can hear the fire crackling and occasionally Rebecca’s chair creaking. In my head, I’m imagining her going into the bedroom and undressing for bed. I imagine every curve, every inch of skin and imagine my mouth trailing over her.
My dick gets hard, and I roll to my side, punching my pillow.
Get over it, JJ. It’s not gonna happen.
***
The sale is a disaster from start to finish.
The very first hayride out, the tractor breaks down in the middle of a field, and everyone has to walk back, most of them grumbling about how this place has gone downhill from what it used to be.
I’m sweaty and tired by the time I get to the sales area, where Rebecca is passing out free cider.
“You need to build the bonfire, JJ.”
“I’m on it. Don’t promise anymore hayrides, though, and take the sign down.”
“What happened?”
“Tractor’s stuck in the field about a half mile out.”
“Oh, no.”
A lady approaches. “Excuse me. Where are the wagons?”
“Wagons?” I repeat.
“The ones we use to haul our pumpkins around the field while we pick them out.”
As soon as she says it, I vaguely remember my grandfather having a bunch of red wagons customers could use.
I go in search of them and find them in a corner of the barn, stacked against the wall.
Pulling the pickup truck around, I load as many as it will hold and drive them to the pumpkin field.
The drive across the bumpy ground must have jostled them all, because when I drop the tailgate and try to pull them out, they’re all jumbled together, their wheels and handles catching on each other, and no matter how hard I tug, they all come out in a heap on the ground.
It's a mangled mess, and I’m ready to quit. I manage to get a dozen that aren’t too bent up separated from the rest for customers.
After that, I build a bonfire in the afternoon and get a table set up with the s’mores supplies.
***
It takes three days, but we finally get all the pumpkins sold, and if I never see another one, I’ll die a happy man.
I’m working on cutting the wood for the sign we’re going to put next to the red pickup truck, when Rebecca approaches.
I’ve got the material set up on wooden sawhorses, and I’ve got the circular saw going.
When I spot her, I shut it off, and the high pitch whirring noise cuts out.
Shoving my protective glasses up on my head, I frown. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got good news and bad news.” She slides her hands into the hip pockets of her jeans.
“Yeah? What’s that?” I take a deep breath, preparing for the next ball to drop.
“Good news. We sold all the pumpkins. Bad news. We lost $27.”
My shoulders slump. “Lost money? How the hell did we do that?”
She holds a piece of paper. “This is the invoice for the pumpkins I found. Your grandfather paid a lot more than I anticipated for those pumpkins. So, we didn’t sell them for enough money.”
I lift a brow. “We? You set the price.”
“Well, you dropped and smashed that whole pallet of pumpkins. So really, it’s your fault.” She flips her braid over her shoulder and marches toward the cabin.
“I never agreed to be a pumpkin farmer,” I yell after her.
“Tell that to your grandpa,” she chirps back, stomping up the stairs to the cabin.
“I can’t. He’s dead,” I snarl, immediately regretting using that tone. She loved the old man, too, and that’s out of line.
Her head drops at my reply, and she hesitates, and I think I might just get an apology, but I guess I really set her off, because she slams the door instead.
Yanking my work gloves off, I throw them and jam my hands on my hips. I really should go apologize. None of this is her fault, and I’m really beginning to wonder if the tree sale is going to be successful.
The dog trots over and sits, looking at me with a whine. I squat and scratch his ears. “Hey, buddy. How are you doing, boy?” I glance toward the cabin. “I think we’re both in the doghouse now. You for digging holes in the yard and me for being a dick.”
He licks my face.
“I think we both need to change our ways.”