living in it?”
“Sure. We’ll have to wait and see how the settlement turns out, of course. I always thought the house would make a great bed and breakfast. And people like haunted places. It’d be great for tourists. Though why would anyone want to stay in Godsfinger?”
“How about a tea house? We could use a restaurant in town.”
“And pass up the lovely atmosphere of the Out-to-Lunch Café?” She laughed. “Anyway, I like to cook, but not for big groups.”
“Nothing to it. Of course, for something like a tea house you’d need to take better care of your lawn. To attract people in.”
“Oh, I would, would I? That’s the thing about this town. Everyone and their dog’s got an opinion on how you should run your own affairs. I’ve got Barbara Stubblefield banging at my door, telling me I’ve got to Roundup my whole lawn, sunflowers and all. And to plant grass. Keep it mowed within an inch of its life. Like I’ve got the time for that.”
But neatness did count here. If a farmer didn’t keep a neat yard, he was talked about. When a farmer bought a new piece of land, it was said of him that he planned on getting the land into shape. That meant the farmer would work on making the soil fertile, but it also meant he would quite literally change the shape of the land. Having the fields rectangular made tractor use easier and so a farmer would go to great lengths to accomplish this. He would remove sloughs, bush and even hills. It led to an exact way of thinking, Job supposed, that extended to landscaping around the house.
Liv waved a hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just everybody in this town is so caught up in how they think things should be. Barbara’s so set on her idea of what a lawn should look like that she can’t see what’s there. When I told my mother about Barbara wanting me to Roundup the lawn, she said, ‘What kind of crazy person objects to sunflowers?’ ” She laughed, then started to cry.
“You okay?” said Job.
She picked up a paper napkin, wiped her nose. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m crying about. It just seems to come and go. One minute I’m fine. The next I’m bawling.”She gathered the Styrofoam cups, paper plates and cutlery and put them in the grocery bag, keeping her eyes on these small tasks as her tears wound down. She was embarrassed by her crying. Job liked her for that. “You know, I’ve never been to your place before,” she said.
“I could show you around.” But made a note to avoid the cabin, Lilith in the house.
The motion of their legs through the hay crop sent sulphur butterflies fluttering up from the flowering alfalfa. The familiar aching heaviness of hay fever filled Job’s sinuses, made his eyes water. He pinched his nose, trying to stop a sneeze, and patted his back pocket for a hanky. When he found none, he blew his nose with the expertise of a farmer, by blocking one nostril with an index finger and blowing sharply towards the ground with just the right amount of force to avoid ending up with goo on his shirt.
Liv laughed, hollered, “Gross.”
Job was aware of a shift between them. That she laughed at his nose blowing wouldn’t have mattered before, when she was with Darren, but it embarrassed him now. He searched for some bright thing to please her with. Broke off a sprig of deep purple alfalfa flower with his clean hand, gave it to her, chewed on another himself.
“It’s sweet!” said Liv.
“Wait.”
He watched the tastes sweep across her face.
“Now it’s like chewing on grass … Now it’s bitter, like old spinach.”
“And it’s got an aftertaste, like when you eat fresh chives.”
“Yeah.”
“The yellow ones are sweeter.” He picked up the pace. “I’ve got an idea. Something I used to do when I was a kid.” And just the month before, but he felt silly admitting to it.
He slid through the barbed-wire fence of the adjacent pasture, where his cows grazed, held the wires apart for Liv. Chose a clean
“Sure. We’ll have to wait and see how the settlement turns out, of course. I always thought the house would make a great bed and breakfast. And people like haunted places. It’d be great for tourists. Though why would anyone want to stay in Godsfinger?”
“How about a tea house? We could use a restaurant in town.”
“And pass up the lovely atmosphere of the Out-to-Lunch Café?” She laughed. “Anyway, I like to cook, but not for big groups.”
“Nothing to it. Of course, for something like a tea house you’d need to take better care of your lawn. To attract people in.”
“Oh, I would, would I? That’s the thing about this town. Everyone and their dog’s got an opinion on how you should run your own affairs. I’ve got Barbara Stubblefield banging at my door, telling me I’ve got to Roundup my whole lawn, sunflowers and all. And to plant grass. Keep it mowed within an inch of its life. Like I’ve got the time for that.”
But neatness did count here. If a farmer didn’t keep a neat yard, he was talked about. When a farmer bought a new piece of land, it was said of him that he planned on getting the land into shape. That meant the farmer would work on making the soil fertile, but it also meant he would quite literally change the shape of the land. Having the fields rectangular made tractor use easier and so a farmer would go to great lengths to accomplish this. He would remove sloughs, bush and even hills. It led to an exact way of thinking, Job supposed, that extended to landscaping around the house.
Liv waved a hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just everybody in this town is so caught up in how they think things should be. Barbara’s so set on her idea of what a lawn should look like that she can’t see what’s there. When I told my mother about Barbara wanting me to Roundup the lawn, she said, ‘What kind of crazy person objects to sunflowers?’ ” She laughed, then started to cry.
“You okay?” said Job.
She picked up a paper napkin, wiped her nose. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m crying about. It just seems to come and go. One minute I’m fine. The next I’m bawling.”She gathered the Styrofoam cups, paper plates and cutlery and put them in the grocery bag, keeping her eyes on these small tasks as her tears wound down. She was embarrassed by her crying. Job liked her for that. “You know, I’ve never been to your place before,” she said.
“I could show you around.” But made a note to avoid the cabin, Lilith in the house.
The motion of their legs through the hay crop sent sulphur butterflies fluttering up from the flowering alfalfa. The familiar aching heaviness of hay fever filled Job’s sinuses, made his eyes water. He pinched his nose, trying to stop a sneeze, and patted his back pocket for a hanky. When he found none, he blew his nose with the expertise of a farmer, by blocking one nostril with an index finger and blowing sharply towards the ground with just the right amount of force to avoid ending up with goo on his shirt.
Liv laughed, hollered, “Gross.”
Job was aware of a shift between them. That she laughed at his nose blowing wouldn’t have mattered before, when she was with Darren, but it embarrassed him now. He searched for some bright thing to please her with. Broke off a sprig of deep purple alfalfa flower with his clean hand, gave it to her, chewed on another himself.
“It’s sweet!” said Liv.
“Wait.”
He watched the tastes sweep across her face.
“Now it’s like chewing on grass … Now it’s bitter, like old spinach.”
“And it’s got an aftertaste, like when you eat fresh chives.”
“Yeah.”
“The yellow ones are sweeter.” He picked up the pace. “I’ve got an idea. Something I used to do when I was a kid.” And just the month before, but he felt silly admitting to it.
He slid through the barbed-wire fence of the adjacent pasture, where his cows grazed, held the wires apart for Liv. Chose a clean
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