Steady (18 page)

“Hey, that was a normal workday,” she said.

“Sure it was,” he said, looking down at the fork in her hand. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Turning the compost. I was waiting for you to finish with Thomas,” she said, handing him her pitchfork.

“Are you just going to do your normal watching of me, or will you be helping this time?” he asked, all cocky.

“I’ll help, as I’m sure you’re tired,” she said, picking up another pitchfork. “Composting is our latest gardening venture, new as of the beginning of last year. We decided to make our own for use here and for those in the neighborhood who need it,” she said, folding her arms and resting them on the top of her fork.

“I’m sure you’re pleased with that. You can smell as much dirt as you’d like,” he said, chuckling.

“Ha, ha. Neighbors contribute their yard waste, vegetable waste, coffee grounds, and grass clippings for those who like the idea of compost without the fuss of composting themselves. We also pick up the coffee grounds from the local coffee shops as well as vegetable waste from neighborhood restaurants.”

“Waste taken and used for composting is waste not being sent to landfills,” he said. She looked at him with approval. “I have an interest in green; what can I say? You know that from the meeting.”

“I know, I just thought it was targeted more toward building.”

“It’s all connected, Katrina. You know that.”

“I know, just didn’t think you did,” she said.

“So are you pleased with the city’s approach to this neighborhood gardening idea? Is it the way to go?” he asked, moving his fork in and out of the pile, turning it over.

“I do. I mean, some consider it a small effort, compared to the large-scale changes needed in the way we grow food in this world, but it’s a start, I think. As you said at the meeting, the changes we need should be larger in scale and scope. But we have to start somewhere, and the city’s efforts make it easier to live greener.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“School? Nope, no patience.”

“Business owner?”

“Nope, but it’s the question people ask me the most.”

“Maybe they see something in you.”

“Small business can be a big risk. Ninety-five percent fail within the first five years,” she said, obviously having given the possibility some thought.

“It’s a dangerous business going out your door,” he said.

“Bilbo Baggins,” she said and smiled.

“I’m a fan,” he said.

“So what do you do that makes you travel so?” she asked, back to watching him work, her arms resting on her pitchfork.

“I’m director of what’s called Global Production Support—GPS for short. I work with customers on a global basis to improve the performance of the systems we produce and sell.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, not really understanding his explanation. “So that’s the reason for all your travel?” she asked, watching as he steadily worked his way down to the end of the composting area, turning it over with his fork, in his own rhythm now. She picked up her fork and moved closer to him, sticking it back into the ground.

“Yes. We are an original equipment manufacturer for the semiconductor industry.

Sometimes I spend a few weeks working, meeting with customers to discuss product-related technical and performance issues.” He straightened and stood, now at the end of the pile.

“Okay,” she said, not understanding that, either, but moving on. “You’re fast,” she said, walking over and taking his fork from him, putting it with hers, and leaning them against a fence post.

“Last thing we need to do today is to add manure to my worms,” she said, walking toward the first row of bins.

“We?” he said, following her.

“This area is just starting. Thomas built these bins for me last year,” Katrina said, lifting the cover and scooping out a handful of manure, compost, and worms to show him. “Know anything about vermicomposting?” she asked.

“Cultivation of worm castings for use as organic fertilizer? Worms eat, poop, and have sex. Not a bad life,” he said, pleased that she seemed surprised that he knew. “I worked at a small community garden during graduate school. They were into vermicomposting, too. They were known for their organic vegetables. I helped, watched, and learned.” He took the shovel from her.

“Graduate school?”

“MBA,” he said, “Stanford. Where’s your manure?” he asked.

“Over here. We get ours from a local farmer. We’re still working out the kinks in this whole worm poop process. We have to go take the truck over to his farm and load it up ourselves.”

He laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t save that chore for me.”

“I wish. Pick-up is during the week or else I would have,” she said. He laughed.

“Did you know that there’s this one restaurant in India, saw it on internet, that takes all of its vegetable waste and puts it out back, along the fence. Nothing elaborate, just feed for their worms who, as you know, produce great organic fertilizer, which in turn is used in the restaurant’s gardens. What a great use of resources.”

“Yep,” he said, spreading manure into two of the bins.

“We use both the compost from the pile you just turned and my worm fertilizer for the gardens here,” she said.

“Your worms?” he said, dumping another shovelful of manure and spreading it over another bin. Katrina stood back and watched as he worked, muscles moving under his shirt, jeans stretched tightly over superb thighs. She sighed, large and loudly, he looked over at her and laughed. Ten minutes later, he was done.

“What next, boss?’ he asked.

“That’s it for me,” she said. “I’m sending you back to Thomas, to help with the end of the day cleaning, making sure the tools are put away. You aren’t too tired, are you?” she asked.

“Why would I be tired?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm mixed in with his question.

“You can find Thomas in the back where you met him this morning.”

“Are you leaving now?” he asked.

“Nope, come find me when you’re done,” she said, walking away.

“Sure,” he said to her back, laughing inside at her determination to make him work until the bitter end. He found Thomas and helped him haul tools left behind by volunteers, clean out the wheelbarrows, and do general upkeep. It took them about an hour to finish.

“Good luck on the gardening competition. Don’t let Katrina push you around too much,” Thomas said, laughing.

“She hasn’t agreed to help me yet,” he said.

“She will. Let me know if I can be of any help,” Thomas said, smiling and shaking Will’s hand.

“Sure. Thanks,” Will said, heading back to the front.

***

He found Katrina sitting atop the picnic tables near the kids’ area watching the children play. He sat down next to her. They sat in silence for a while. It was dark now; the solar lights were on, along with the lights surrounding the kids play area. It was nice out. He breathed deeply and looked over at Katrina, who had just done the same. They laughed.

“You’re more knowledgeable than you let me believe,” she said.

“You didn’t really try to find out how much I knew. You just assumed,” he said, bumping his shoulder into hers. “Don’t worry, you’re not the first. It’s hard for women to give me much credit sometimes, the downside to having such a pretty face,” he said, making her laugh again. “I like this place,” he added, pointing to the playscape. “It feels easy, relaxed, and comfortable, like an old pair of jeans. I like the way you inserted the hammocks, especially hidden among the trees, they make this place feel like part of a whole neighborhood. But also, if you close your eyes, you can pretend that you’re in your own backyard and you’re all alone and that’s so cool,” he said, gently bumping her shoulder again.

She turned and looked at him, appreciation in her eyes; not just for his looks, but for understanding what the outdoors meant to her, what she had tried to create.

“Thanks for working today. You didn’t have to. It wasn’t necessary to have my approval,” she said.

“But I wanted it, anyway, and I really would like for you to work with me.”

“Why?”

“You get what all this means, the need to take care of what has been given to us,” he said, then quiet for a few minutes before adding, “Plus you need me to improve your gardening education. You could learn a lot from me.”

“Oh, I could, could I,” she said, hitting his knee with hers.

“Yep, you must be open to all things, little one,” he said, all fortune cookie-like.

She laughed. “I promise I’ll think about it, and today went a long way toward helping,” she said, smiling shyly.

“I’ll take that as a start,” he said, standing up. “I better go. Taking the motorcycles out with Oscar tomorrow, and I need to be alert,” he said, standing there watching her.

“Okay, thanks again,” she said, watching, but having no idea what he was thinking. He tugged at the brim of her hat before turning and walking away. She followed him with her eyes until he was no longer visible, giving a final sigh for all that he was.

***

Sunday arrived sunny and clear, but a little cold—a perfect day for a bike ride, the motored kind this time. Oscar stood outside Will’s door and rang the bell for the second time. A few minutes later, the door opened. Will was standing there, hair standing in every direction, in need of a shave, and not dressed.

“You still up to riding today? You look a little tired,” Oscar said teasingly. He knew about Will working with Katrina yesterday; he heard it from Lola.

Will ran his hand through his hair, turned, and walked away from the door. “I must have overslept,” he said, turning and heading into the kitchen for a cup of pre-programmed coffee.

“What time is it, anyway?” he said, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and filling it with coffee.

“Around ten. You want to postpone? Ride another day?”

“Hell, no, just give me ten. I’ll meet you outside,” he said, taking his cup and walking toward his bathroom.

“Okay, if you’re sure. While I’m here, I need to borrow a wrench.” Will spun around and headed toward his garage.

“What size?” he asked.

“Half-inch.”

Will went over to where his wrenches were and retrieved the one Oscar wanted.

“I don’t know how you keep this place so clean and organized. You’re a one-man tool supply.”

“I’m just anal that way,” Will said, going back into his home, now headed for the shower.

“See you in ten,” Oscar said, walking out the front door.

“Sure.”

Will was tired. Attila the Gardener tried to kill him yesterday; that thought caused him to smile. He’d known she would give him the worst, most difficult assignment, and she had not disappointed. He stepped into the shower, turning the setting to hot. He’d considered himself in excellent shape, and that fitness had saved him from Katrina’s work detail. Even so, he was still a little sore.

He had actually enjoyed the work, having missed the level of labor required by community gardens. He’d met people he’d seen around often, but didn’t have the chance to meet. They came over and introduced themselves and congratulated him on being selected the leader. For the first time since graduate school, he’d felt a part of something large and meaningful. He was surprised and impressed by the scale and reach of the gardens and Katrina’s role in them.

About ten minutes later, Will emerged from his home. Oscar was already on his bike.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep.”

***

About two hours later, they were sitting at a picnic table on the inside patio of the best rib place in the state, having worked through a pound of ribs washed down with sodas.

The Big Rib was the name of this particular barbeque pit. It was nestled at the bottom of a hill, surrounded by green fields and a large pond. The Big Rib had been an added treat at the end of their ride through beautiful countryside among the hills of this region. Even in winter, it was still beautiful. They’d stopped for a late lunch.

He and Oscar were now contemplating a bowl of hot peach cobbler. Of course the answer was yes. They flagged the waitress down and ordered. After she’d taken their orders and gone, Oscar spoke.

“So how does it feel to have unseated the legend of the gardening world?” he asked to Will, teasing him.

“I had no idea it would end as it did. I didn’t know she wanted it as much as she did, although I’m excited about the opportunity,” he said.

“Gardening is huge in this town, and being chosen leader is the dream of most serious gardeners. Katrina has been that leader for us for the last four years. So congratulations,” he said.

“Thanks.”

The waitress arrived with their dessert.

“That was quick,” Will said, thanking her as she placed two bowls of the finest peach cobbler in the state before them, loaded with fresh peaches and juice served piping hot over the state’s equally famous homemade vanilla ice cream. Taking a bite, Will took a moment to savor the pleasure he’d always gotten from his first bite of this dessert. Oscar looked at him and grinned; he loved his peach cobbler, too.