26. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
" S top here!" Elijah said. "Don't pull into the driveway."
Jon slowed the truck and stopped at the end of the driveway on his right. "This is your grandfather's place?"
"Ja. And my parents is the one back on the right with the big red barn."
Jon looked in the rearview mirror. These were not small properties. The property tax alone had to be killer even if the farms had been in the families for generations.
The farm behind them with the big red barn was picture perfect with a white farmhouse that looked like it had several extensions. A big garden out front had black plastic weed covers between the rows and berry wires. Mules and a cow grazed in a big pasture. There were no cars in the driveway, and everything was neat and tidy. A farm stand sign was posted. Elijah's parents owned that farm?
The place in front of them now, Dawdi's place, was smaller. There was a house with a stone lower floor and white clapboard upper. Old cement steps led up to a side door. The house looked at least a few hundred years old but well maintained. There was a fenced-in garden and a smaller white barn. A windmill spun in the yard and ivy grew up a metal mailbox on the road. It didn't look like it had the acreage of its neighbors. Jon supposed a braucher didn't need to till the fields.
Elijah motioned. "There's a pullout up ahead. Park there."
Jon did as he was asked, pulling into a wide dirt area along the road that went to a gated field. It was used by tractors, he supposed. He stopped the truck and waited for Elijah to get out. But he just sat there looking at his grandfather's house.
"You gonna go talk to him?" Jon asked.
Elijah shook his head, his expression worried. "I'm shunned. He won't talk to me."
Fuck, that was barbaric. "Okay. So how are you gonna know how he is?"
Elijah twisted around in the seat, the better to stare out the back window. His face was anguished. "Can we just sit here a spell?"
This was clearly salt in the wound for him, being so close to his family and yet so far. It pissed Jon off. He didn't understand the whole shunning thing at all. There'd been arguments in his family. Hard feelings. Bad blood. But it was never so terrible that a person couldn't even be acknowledged.
Jon turned off the ignition and listened to the engine tick as it cooled.
Elijah twisted himself farther in the seat and leaned his chin on his hands on the seat back. He stared.
Ten minutes went by. Fifteen. Thirty. Jon was about to say something stupid like, we can't stay here all day. Only they could, and Jon would, if that's what Elijah needed. But was this healthy for him? Wasn't this just causing mental anguish?
Before he could say anything, Elijah tensed. "There he is."
Jon adjusted the rearview mirror and looked. An old man wearing a big black coat and black hat and carrying a wicker basket emerged from the house. He was tall and thin. Elijah had gotten his leanness from the old man's side of the family, at least, though not his height. He looked pretty strong, his gait only a little rusty with age as he headed to the gate in the pine fence.
"Garden?" Jon asked.
Elijah nodded. "He grows all kinds of plants for remedies. And food for the table too."
Even this time of year, Jon knew, there'd be hardy vegetables like Brussels sprouts and potatoes to harvest along with herbs.
Elijah watched as his grandfather bustled around the garden. All they could make out was his hat and shoulders above the fence as he worked around.
"He looks okay," Jon noted.
Elijah nodded. "Ja. Doesn't seem sick." His voice was hopeful.
The old man emerged through the garden gate, his basket full of greens. He walked to the white barn, opened a big wooden door, and went inside, the old barn door banging behind him before being pulled tight from inside. Once again, silence.
"You sure you don't wanna go talk to him?" Jon asked.
Elijah patted his pockets. "Do you have paper and a pencil?"
"Check the glove box."
Elijah opened it. Inside was an old notepad with a gas station promotion. He grabbed it and a pen and began to write, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration.
God, that was cute. A vision of leaning over and sucking on that tongue sprang up in his mind. Jon made himself look away. He was an animal. Poor Elijah was all worried, and Jon's brain was thinking about sex.
Elijah wrote, scribbled, tore off a sheet, scribbled some more. He opened the passenger door, then paused to wrap the scarf around his neck and lower face. "Wait here," came his muffled voice.
He ran across the country road and down to the ivy-covered mailbox. He stuck the note inside and ran back. Jon kept an eye out, feeling weirdly like a getaway driver. But there was no one around to challenge them.
Elijah hopped back up into the truck and slammed the door. "Let's go."
Jon started the truck and pulled out. He didn't particularly want to go back to the farm. He knew of a place. He'd picked up pies there several times for farm events. It was on one of the main roads through the county, a cafe and bakery shaped like a Dutch windmill. In the summer, they had seating outside and served ice cream, but today, the place looked quiet and empty when Jon drove up. The red neon OPEN sign on the window was encouraging.
"You need to pick up somethin'?" Elijah asked.
"No. Thought we could grab lunch. You game?"
"Um… Sure. Ja. Sounds gut."
Elijah smiled, and Jon knew he'd made the right choice. It was Sunday, after all, and morning chores were done. They could take some time for themselves.
Besides, cheering up Elijah was excuse enough.