he would pass his house on her way to the corner store. He was usually in his yard building something or working his garden. And he took notice of her. Not enough to be rude but long enough. She didn’t mind. He had a kind face. She started giving a brief wave and a slight smile the way you would to an old friend. Yet she didn’t even know his name.
“Peter. My name is Peter. I see you walking by here.”
“Yes, you do. I walk my dog to the corner store and back every day. I think he smells the bacon.”
“You used to walk on the other side.”
“Well, I’m a curious person. I saw you looking and realized it wasn’t probing, just curious. My curiousity got the best of me. I’m Sandrine. Nice to meet you Peter.”
“And your dogs name? Springer Spaniel? I’d guess Cedric or Abernathy, something mildly formal yet capricious.”
Chuckle. “No, Bunny. My granddaughter insisted. He was such a cute puppy. It just stuck. And your dogs?”
“I love the name. My boys are probably back in the woods chasing up rabbits.”
“Do you mind if I ask what it is you’re building on the trailer? It looks like a small office or guest house.”
“Tiny house on wheels. My nephew Abe is a senior at Western and wants to head West and write and shoot the desert when he graduates. He’s got a story in his head. It’s a good one. His dad told him if he could manage to save up 20 grand he would give him a trailer, his Dodge Ram and donate the wood from Getty’s saw mill. He had a couple of oaks on his farm that were in the way so he had Getty mill them. The woodgrains are gorgeous. And I’m donating the framing from my woodpile, so Abe gets two years to follow his dream and I get to do what I love more than anything.”
“Building?”
“I stand back and look at what I did each day and I feel real. On weekends when Abe is here we throw a brisket in the smoker and work eight straight. We get a couple of Growlers at New World and kick back at 1800. His Dad, my big brother Sam gets himself free some weekends and then we make huge progress. And Abe has school friends that drop by some days and then its like an Amish barn raining.”
“It’s beautiful. Have you completed much on the inside?”
“Not really. Neither Abe, Sam or myself are finish guys. Good solid construction but finesse……No.”
“May I see sometime?”
“Well, I end my day at 5:00 in the afternoon, take a shower and change and then I kick back.”
“How kicked back do you get.” She ended it with a lilt and raised eyebrows. Big smile.
“I relax. To a degree. I have an active life as you’ve seen. I like being fresh in the morning and never hung over.”
He was so calm. It wouldn’t take long to wind down in his neighborhood.
“I’m having dinner and zinfandel at 6:00 at the picnic table. Bring Bunny and I’ll introduce him to my sheriff. We can look in the lil house and you can share a vision with me,”
“A vision?”
“Yes. There is a price to my friendship. You tell me your story. You’ll hear lots of mine but it’s yours that opens you. I like to know my friends and hope they want to know me.”
He looked up to catch her staring directly at his eyes and a not quite brief smile to her lips. And then it broke slow. . . .real slow.
“Those are heavy terms. Do we need to sign a contract tonight? hmmm. I’ll bring by some pie. A neighbor come to visit.”
“I have to tell you that I am not a wine person. I drink two varieties. Both red and brewed by a gentleman that entertained myself and my best friend for three hours one Saturday. The wine is very good and furthermore I have the satisfaction of placing faith in an individual. My individual is a very human vinter. My faith is intact.”
He was grinning and barefoot. He wore a very worn, once rose colored T -Shirt a size too big. it looked . . . .comfortable.
He was playing Lyle Lovett doing white boy blues so very. . . .comfortably.
His levi’s were well washed. Slightly wispy at the heel and just starting to part at the knee. They were . . . . Comfortable.
So. . . . .what do you do. The easy thing would be to submit. that would be comfortable. But.
Comfortable was something that she grew into. She liked to scout the perimeter, find the soft spots. She had no problem at all giving in. She craved it……….but she gave in to well considered possibilities. She thought long term.
The conversation was general life. Getting to know you, Just hit the high points.
And he was so aware of that. She could tell. Not in an arrogant dismissal but just itching……to learn you.
Did he do it with everybody? She was sure he did, but. There is always a difference in the eyes. The eyes tell what one is feeling. She kept her eyes on his. Not staring. Active. Watching the change in expression, reading a chord change.
He saw it.
“I am pretty direct. I don’t collect friends on Facebook. I like most people and if they have a story, so much the better. But I like to do face to face, sit out under the streetlights and talk. Where I can see your eyes and your facial changes. Sandrine, you couldn’t be a liar if you wanted to. Your face gives you away. How fresh is that? It was the first thing I noticed in you. And that you don’t feed on guilt. You do weigh how things will affect those nearby and I believe that dictates your decision. You are very human. I enjoy being with humans.”
“And you get that from knowing me this one day?”
“No, from watching you for three weeks. The way you look at things you pass, your easy stride. You didn’t change the way you walked after we made contact. When you looked at me your gaze may have been low but it always slid directly to my eyes. How you interact with ‘Bunny’ and my boys. They liked you immediately.”
Well, she ..hadn’t… thought of it quite like…..hmmm.
“Sandrine, I like hearing how people decide. What experience comes into that. You keep the sadness down low. You don’t consult it constantly but the awareness peeks out occaisionally and whispers.
“Now lets not get too carried away with this happy thing.”.
“OK. But my terms now. Give me your email. I’m not interested in your response yet. Right now I have things to say. At my pace. And I have a vision about Abe’s lil’ home.”
And she did. In her very unique way.
And I hung on every missive. Staring at the computer screen awaiting the next chapter. She untied the bows, folded them neatly into the desk drawer, sliced the tape with a scalpel, folded back the paper and opened the lid.
Look at me.
. . . . . . . . .
Little Lyle, a little Ricky Lee. How good is that?
Whistle Down The Wind 
Gorgeous. Love the song, too. Hope you are well.
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Thank you.
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