SHOOT: A Novel (2 page)

 
Bonus Stories by Megan West & Kristen Flowers

The chatter of
people created a lovely buzz throughout the closed off streets of the Farmer’s
Market. Bright yellow corn and vivid greens lit up my view from my family’s
stand. I caught Randall’s eye and nodded in a warm greeting. He was a
53-year-old man fully committed to his farm and always drawing laughs from the customers
who visited his stand. His yellow and sweet red corn were his best-selling
items.

My stand never
fell far behind. In fact, my delicious blueberry pies were one of the most
popular attractions. Of course, it didn’t hurt that I was a beautiful young woman.
It wasn’t uncommon for a sweet grandmother or an older man to innocently
complement me. Around my hometown I was known as ‘the prettiest girl in all of
Iowa.’ I never allowed it to get to my head and at times it made me feel a
little uncomfortable, but I did my best to stay modest.

As a teenager coming
into my looks, I felt awkward when the compliments started coming in.
Eventually, however, they became background noise. It wasn’t until I got older
and stared maturing into a lovely young woman that the compliments came more
often and sometimes in unwanted forms that left me feeling uncomfortable.

Thankfully,
everyone at the Farmer’s Market looked out for me. Most of them had watched me
grow up while selling my pies and helping out at my parent’s small store. Randall
was especially protective of me, almost acting like a father at times, so I had
come to value him very much. We rarely saw each other, except for the days when
I set up at the Farmer’s Market, but that was okay by both of us.

I eyed the sweet,
red corn in a wooden bin off to the right and made a mental note to buy some
for dinner if he had any left. Just then, a customer walked up to my stand with
a huge smile and a hand on her very pregnant belly.

“The season’s
finally here!” the woman barked in a chipper voice, eager eyes looking over
every single blueberry pie on display.

It took a moment
for me to register the woman’s face, but when I finally pieced it together, I
couldn’t hide the huge grin. “Lindsay! I haven’t seen you in… gosh, how long?”

“Three years,
almost to the day! Oh hun, I was startin’ to worry you’d forgotten all ‘bout
me!” Lindsay looked playfully hurt before going around to the side of the
stand. I quickly reached out and gave her a hug.

“And look at you
now! How many months along are you?” I still remembered Lindsay when she was
just an excitable 19-year-old yacking on about how she was going to marry her
high school sweetheart, live somewhere else, and start on the big family she
had always dreamed of. Actually, that was the dream most young woman in my town
seemed to have—get married to the boy down the road, have children, and work on
the farm. It was a simple life and one that I could respect. But it wasn’t for
me.

I had an
adventurous itch that needed to be scratched.

 
Even though we had gotten along well when she
still lived in town, I never managed to keep in touch with her. I wondered if
this was her first child and if her plans had actually panned out. She sure
seemed happy enough.

“Five months with
my third child!” Lindsay nodded enthusiastically before going back to the front
of the stand and leaning in to inspect each and every pie closely. “Gerald and
I got married right after we moved and it wasn’t long before baby Barry came
along.”

“Wow,” I muttered,
pulling out a box for the pie Lindsay ended up selecting. I started folding and
piecing it together as I mused over what Lindsay had just told me.

It was rare for
someone’s plans to work out so perfectly, especially when those plans were made
as a teenager in love. I had to admit though, seeing her so happy enflamed my
own unhappiness. Maybe I was being greedy wanting more than what I already had,
but Lindsay’s life was so unappealing to me. I knew there was more to life than
small town boys and the dusty roads of Iowa. Despite what my mother always
said, ‘there’s nothin’ good outside of Iowa,’ I knew she had to be wrong. Even though
it wasn’t for me, I was happy for Lindsay and it certainly seemed like she was
overjoyed with the way her life had worked out.

As I mused on
about Lindsay’s happiness, I did my best to stifle the odd feeling welling up
in the pit of my stomach as I thought of where I was in my own life. Lindsay
clicked her tongue before picking up the pie and handing it over to me so I
could pack it up.

“Did you end up
moving to Cedar Rapids?” I asked.

“Oh, no. We
actually live up in Decorah, would you believe? I know I said I wanted to live
in a big city, but we ended up in another small town. Tell the truth, we stayed
in Cedar Rapids ‘bout a month or two but weren’t all too happy. Some small town
folks are just best left that way.”

“So you like it
over in Decorah?”

“Oh, hun, yes! You
should come by and visit sometime,” Lindsay said with a smile as she took the
pie from my hands and gave me the money. She bit her lower lip and looked back
down at the pies as if debating whether or not to buy another. She shook her
head, “I’ll be back to your stand or store before leaving town for some more.”
Lindsay said as she started to walk away. “Bye hun! Good seein’ you!”

“Good seeing you
too!”

Lindsay was smart coming
before the morning rush, which started about five minutes later. Throngs of
people wandered about laughing and having a grand old time, many making sure to
make a pit stop at my stand to look over the pies and vow to return for one
next time if they weren’t taking one home now. This never bothered me. I was flattered
that so many people found my pies delicious.

“You’re lookin’
prettier each and every day, Chloe.” I smiled humbly and swept a lock of my
lustrous, chocolate brown hair behind my ear.

“Leanne, I can
only hope to be pretty as you some day.” I had gotten good at small chitchat
with customers. Good looks aside, I was naturally charming and I wasn’t one to
shy away from a compliment, even though I was far from being full of myself.
Over the years I had tried to strike the perfect balance of humility and
acceptance. I was always friendly with customers. Living in a small farming
town where most people were willing to lend a helping hand made being friendly
easy for everyone.

The morning sun
glinted in Leanne’s brilliant blue eyes as I gave her a warm smile. I had meant
the compliment I paid the young lady holding a perfectly golden-crusted pie
ready to be packed up. I always thought Leanne to be one of the prettiest women
in town.

After carefully
placing her pie in a box, I reached into a tin beneath the counter to pull out
a toothpick with a handmade, glittered green heart stuck to the top. I poked it
in the middle of the pie, looked up at Leanne with a sweet smile and closed the
lid.

“Always goin’ the
extra mile for others, ‘specially those of us who bring you regular business.
You sure are a sweet thing, Chloe.”

“Just the way my
mama taught me,” I admitted with a short laugh.

 
Leanne handed over some money and said goodbye
before walking off to meet up with her boyfriend who had just finished buying
some corn from Randall’s stand. Right then I had a lull in customers so I took
advantage to crane my neck forward and shouted with my hands cupped around my
mouth, “Hope you can save me a bit of that sweet corn!” Randall nodded and
smiled, immediately pulling a small basket out from behind him and scooping a
few of the cobs into it to save for me.

Around noon I only
had two pies left and the crowd had considerably thinned out, but I wasn’t
worried. I had sold a good bunch and if I had two left over they could always
be sent to the shop. As I leaned back against the brick wall of the building
behind my stand, I looked at all the colorful canopies lining the street.

I glanced down the
row of stands and saw none other than Lindsay chatting away with another person.
I smiled as she carried on with laughter. My old friend certainly looked happy,
but a part of me couldn’t help but wonder how or why. Lindsay had ended up in
another small town despite having the opportunity and desire to live in the
city.

I had only visited
Cedar Rapids a few times, but I never experienced living in a place like that. I
was a small town girl and lived in a small town world. But I could never shake
the desire inside of me to venture out into the world. Even though Cedar Rapids
was a big place for me, I knew in truth it was small. I had always dreamed of
seeing a truly big city someday—a Chicago or a New York. Pictures never did
enough to satisfy me. I wanted to gaze upon the big buildings with my own two
emerald green eyes.

I fumbled with the
strings of my hunter green apron as I looked at the peaks of the canopies and
wondered if there was anything like this in big cities. If there was, what
would they look like? Lindsay would have had a chance to check it out firsthand,
but she passed it all up. No matter how I framed it and how many times I
replayed my old friend’s words in my head, I couldn’t make tails or heads of
it.

My yearning to
leave the small farm to see the world, visiting the big city, and going on
different adventures to discover myself was set in too deep. It was a hunger
that had been growing for years and now, as a young twenty-two-year-old woman, I
was starting to grow frustrated with my daily life. I loved my family and friends
in the town. I even held certain affection for the charm of the only life I had
ever known, but it wasn’t enough to extinguish that flame inside of me. Despite
my small town fame and my talent for making pies, I didn’t feel fulfilled.
Knowing there was more to life than making and selling pies was a pull I
couldn’t deny.
 
 

With the crowd thinning
and the bustle of the day settling down, it wasn’t hard to spot the woman
walking slowly in the direction of my pie stand. Even in the biggest crowd to
ever visit the Farmer’s Market, the woman would have stood out like a sore
thumb. She looked completely out of place.

 
She had thick, blonde hair that was perfectly styled.
It was pulled back into a sleek roll at the back of her head that was, by all
counts, a simple hairdo yet somehow looked better than any fancy style I had
seen at dances and formal events in town. She looked more like someone who had stepped
out of a glamour magazine and onto the wrong street in the wrong town. Big
cities as they were, I couldn’t imagine a woman like her roaming around the
downtown of Cedar Rapids or even Des Moines.

Despite the big,
dark sunglasses covering her eyes it was rather obvious she was taking her time
walking down the Farmer’s Market. I didn’t blame her—she had probably never
seen something like the Fort Dodge Farmer’s Market, much less been surrounded
by people who were born and bred in small town Middle-America.

 
I straightened up and tried, but failed, not
to stare at her. I couldn’t help it. She wore the tallest red heels I had ever
seen paired with a flowing, calf-length summer dress that looked more expensive
than any dress I’d seen in real life. By the time I realized she had stopped
walking and was returning my gaze, it was far too late for me to cover up my
gawking stare. I managed to quickly get out a sheepish smile and looked down at
my remaining two pies.

“Good afternoon,”
the woman greeted me in a silky smooth voice. I felt my stomach tumbling as I
looked up and smiled with a nod.

“Good afternoon, are
you interested in purchasing a blueberry pie?” I felt silly even asking it
because the idea of such a glamorous woman coming to purchase one of my
homemade pies seemed preposterous to me. And with only two left, I suddenly
wondered if my stand looked a little lacking. I chuckled nervously, waiting for
her to respond.