Growing Strong

“Sorry, I know. I just…I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, you know? Especially when I know the person was trying to do something nice. Which you were and it wasn’t that bad? I’m sure if we had a second bite…” He trailed off, not knowing how to end that note positively. Thankfully the pie was discarded and he couldn’t test the theory. “Baked goods and booze? Elsie Bishop, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to win me over,” he joked as he walked toward the cabinets to grab a couple of wine glasses for them.

“I’m like 70% sure.” Her Grandma Bishop was an interesting twist of practical and suspicious. “But maybe I’m getting the season wrong. Salts good for so many things in her book. It doesn’t matter though. It won’t happen this year, or maybe next year, but eventually I’m goin’ make somethin’ so good it will ruin all other strawberry pies for the rest of the judge’s lives.”

She poured them both a portion of wine, biting at her bottom lip. “Well Lucas, I’d have to be even a remote possibility if I was tryin’ to lock you down.” Her eyes dropped from his briefly. “You know, back in school I assumed you only ever put up with me for Danny’s sake.”

Anyone who knew her, knew that Elsie had a problem with sticking her foot in her mouth. She was certain that several people would add on her lack of boundaries and need to be in control. She could see the minute her words sunk into Frank and hear them ringing in her own ears. Dammit, she thought and then out loud. "Dammit. I didn't mean that. The last part. You've known me over twenty years Frank, how can you not know when I make a hash of somethin'." She was certain her cheeks were bright red just then. She shook her head, pushing the strands of hair away from her face. Over the past years she'd learned the hard way that she wasn't as smooth or as open as she'd once been. "Your family's great, but they ain't you."

Laughter bubbled out of her, bringing color to her cheeks. “Flattery isn’t goin’ to make me go any easier on you Wesley.” She jotted down the hours she’d be spending with Calvin before snapping the planner closed and slipping it back into her bag. “Well what are we workin’ with? You got a resume? What’s your experience like? What kind of references can we pull up for you.”

“Yeah, less Disney more romantic comedy.” Her thumbs slipped into the belt loops of her jeans. “Less talking woodland animals, dead mothers, and curses. But I hope you are putting in a basket. The bids will be intense this year.”

“My kind of grams then.” Was there any better kind? She got some of the best and most embarrassing stories out of her Grandma Bishop when she’d been tucked into her bottle for a bit. “You know I got a theory on that. They’ve had about fifty plus years to build up their tolerance. Diminutive or not that’s got to count for somethin’.”

The smile on April’s lips softened significantly as Elsie spoke, the lines of her face blossoming with affection. “You’re right,” she nodded. “And that’s what makes you the best woman for the job. Seriously, those people are lucky to have you.” Even though her sister had healed somewhat since Danny’s death, any topic that had to do with weddings was one April approached either with great care, or as some kind of joke; simply because an innate part of her wanted to do anything to shield Elsie from harm. But she so often forgot that her sister was a strong, kind-hearted woman whose hand didn’t necessarily need to be held. “You kidding? If I were just a smidgen more generous-feeling, I’d pay your whole bill tonight. Lucky for me, I ain’t,” April joked, bumping her shoulder into Elsie’s and signalling the bartender for another drink. “Well, I unknowingly flirted with a home-owner in front of his wife for about thirty minutes before my dumb ass realized she wasn’t his sister like I thought, so I don’t know about better, but… it sure entertained my coworker.”

“WHAT!” Elsie dropped her glass back onto the bar as she swiveled completely in her stool to face April. “Way to bury the lead sis! I’ve got to know it all. Is it someone I might know? What did he look like? What kind of flirtin’ are we talkin’ about? Like overt arm touches, hair flippin’, secret glances? What did his wife do?” Her voice was at a whisper, but it could barely contain her excitement. “I though me sister was a home inspector not a home wrecker.”

“You know I have a friend like that,” she wasn’t sure that was the correct word for Lucas, seeing how they were still repairing all those years apart. “Not the kind that posted all our craziness on instagram, but the one that was always our DD, always the dad friend. I’m sure he’d say the same thing. It’s not about needin’ someone it’s about knowin’ they are there. Knowin’ they got ya even without havin’ to ask. My philosophy is that it’s always better to be in the pictures then the one takin’ them.”

“Well that’s just a little pro tip you get from someone who’s been doin’ this for the last decade.” She laughed at his comment. Between work, DAR obligations, helping out at the farm, and friends she had a pretty packed schedule. “Oh, we just run off of the possibility of true love. That and some very good espresso machines.”

She paused, weighing the options between her current workload. “Don’t go sayin’ I didn’t warn you ok?” She pulled her organizer out of her bag, everything organized with colored tabs and checked a few things. “Alright, Cal I’ve got a couple hours. Operation fly the nest has now been put into order.”

“More like one of the sacred laws of growin’ up to be a proper Alabama lady.” Her grin was lopsided, if a bit sour. The most recent generation was bucking that tradition hard, and she was looking to be one of them shortly. “If you’re single and out of college than your granny’s definitely workin’ hard for you at Sunday church.”

Her words were a little slurred from the whiskey. “A girl never forgets her first crush. My mama used to call him ‘that moody one’ but I thought he was just shy. I probably made a fool, a big fool of myself when I was little. Always carryin’ baskets of sweets over and overstayin’ my welcome. He never made me feel bad though. And damn did he grow up fine.”

It was, in a certain way, funny how he eventually had pull off his “resting bitch face” — as his sister liked to call it — with Elsie but it had been hard not to when time after time she would go to the ranch and watch the horses and therefore, him. There was no turning back now even if he tried as she had him figured out and was probably one of the few who wouldn’t buy it if he happened to glare at her; he had tried.

“Damn, sorry ‘bout that.” He said, running a hand through the cow’s side, he was sorry but still found it amusing. “I’ll pay it back. Maybe.” He added as a joke even if his face didn’t show it. “Thanks for bringing her back. Feels like a deja vu, ain’t it? I should pro’lly start payin’ you for all the times you brought the cattle back.”

“Not a chance Frankie. You ain’t goin’ to pay me a dime. My parents have more carrots than brains most summers.” Despite the frustration the beast had caused her, as she walked toward Frank one of her hands rested against it’s side. She loved the feel of the fur between her fingers, the sounds of it’s breath. There weren’t really any animals on the Bishop Farm. “Plus I get to see you every time I bring someone back.”

Frank was like the town in a lot of ways. The same year after year. She’d grown up, gone to college, and come back and he’d remained there on the grounds. That type of steadiness appealed to her. A bit of color came to her cheeks however when she realized what she said. “I mean, all of you Shephards. The whole family.”