I wander over to the back window overlooking the garden. “A chef and a farmer. I’m impressed and lucky.”
“Don’t forget football player,” he adds. “I know a salad in the morning is a bit unusual, but I work closely with a nutritionist to keep me in top form. He says protein and greens are the way to go.”
“And blueberries,” Sonny says.
We chuckle and then sit down to eat breakfast.
After a blessing, I take a bite. “No complaints here. This is delicious. What else do you have growing out there?”
Grey and Sonny take turns listing what they have in the garden, including tomatoes, hot peppers, herbs, squash, and of course, blueberries.
A thought has been nagging the back of my mind for days now, but I’ve been trying to remain in the present moment, yet it repeatedly tries to find a way out. “How do you take care of it when you’re not here?”
“Mrs. Hancook’s daughter and her family come out a couple of times a week and tend to things. But I hope that when I retire, I can do it myself, expand it to include corn, potatoes, and even pumpkins.” Grey leans back in the chair, cradling his head in his hands as if envisioning the future.
And there it is...my question and thought and fear and doubt all rolled into one.
“You’ll just putter around in the garden and?—?”
“And cook,” he says, sitting up.
“I have to admit, I really love this hidden talent of yours, but it surprises me.”
“Because I’m a big, grunty, football player?”
“You haven’t grunted in days.”
Wearing a lopsided grin, he says, “I like to garden and cook. You like to draw and ice skate. Any other secret talents?”
“I’ll tell you what I don’t know how to do—keep anything green and growing in dirt alive...or cook, though I’m not bad at baking.”
“We make a good team.”
“I agree, but I hardly know how to boil water.”
“How do you eat? What do you eat? When I’m not cooking, that is.”
“If it weren’t for the freezer section at the grocery store, microwave, and takeout, I’d starve to death.”
He taps the air. “Don’t forget the cookie dough.”
“Never.”
“I’m very happy to spend the rest of our lives cooking for you, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t pass along some of my skills. Plus, Sonny is a great helper. We’ll start cooking lessons this afternoon. But first, we have to go scout a spot for the new swing set.”
The three of us roam the property where Grey identifies wild plants, names trees, and points out animals and birds, including a falcon, which he said is relatively rare to see.
Later, while Sonny “reads” to himself from a board book, Grey makes good on his promise to teach me how to cook. He opens the pantry closet and gets out an apron. “Here, put this on.”
I bump him with my hip. “Only if you wear one.”
His lips quirk. “This one?” It says,Kiss the cook. He pulls it over his head and then pushes up his sleeves, exposing his forearms.
I fan my eyeballs.
Is it hot in here?The oven isn’t even on yet.
Who knew forearms could be so attractive? They’re strong and tan and make me feel secure. Like he can handle heavy things, including the burden of my past.
