“Yes. I can’t wait. You
won’t think I’m rude if I don’t find a nice way to wrap up our conversation,
will you?”
“Not at all. Leave. I insist.”
I grinned and rushed off to make
myself a plate. As I walked along the table with my paper plate in hand, I
scanned the traditionally southern dishes. I heaped some macaroni and creamed
spinach on the plate before making it over to the grills.
Father Mike wasn’t kidding when he
said the nuns made everything, as I walked up to a woman dressed in dark
clothes behind the grill, wimple on her head and a cross around her neck.
“What can I get you? We have ribs,
brisket, all sorts of goodness.”
“I’ll try the brisket.”
“Good choice,” she winked, placing a
pile of meat on my plate. She tossed a couple of ribs on there and added,
“These are a favorite too. Special recipe.”
“Thank you, Sister...?”
“Sister Catherine. Enjoy your meal,
Miss Quinn.”
I forced a nervous smile, still
unaccustomed to strangers knowing my name. At least this sister was friendly. I
found an empty table and sat down. I took a bite of the brisket and closed my
eyes. The meat was smoky and sweet, practically melting in my mouth, nothing
like anything I’d tasted before. I knew barbecue in the south was supposed to
be better, but I didn’t imagine it could be so different.
“How’s the food?”
I didn’t have to open my eyes to
know it was Jack’s voice. “So good I almost took the Lord’s name in vain.”
Jack laughed. “Well, don’t let
anyone else hear you say that. But I know what you mean.”
Jack set his plate down on the table
across from me, along with two plastic cups.
“Oh, thanks, I totally forgot to
grab a drink.”
“Sweet tea.”
“Excuse me?” I held a forkful of
macaroni in front of my face, waiting.
“Sweet tea. That’s what I got you.
Can’t have barbecue without it.”
“Oh, sweet tea. Gotcha.”
“What did you think I said?”
“Nothing.”
“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
I nodded and looked around at the people
milling about, smiles on their faces, the smell of barbecue and cool fall air
all around. “The church holds these events often?”
Jack nodded. “Seeing your neighbor
for a few minutes each Sunday doesn’t really give you an opportunity to get to
know them. The church figures the more time we all spend together, the more we
invest in each other.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“You don’t sound too convinced.”
“It’s not that. I’m just not used to
it. I couldn’t even tell you the names of the people who lived in my last
building, let alone tell you anything about their personal life.”
Jack leaned forward against the
picnic table. “And do you prefer that? Keeping people at arm’s length?”
I shrugged. “Not everyone.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Jack gave
me a quick wink before turning to say hello to some of the townspeople at the
next table. I watched the way he gestured as he told a story, his hands
calloused and strong, the way his sapphire eyes seemed to dance when he
laughed. I was amazed how at ease he was with everyone, sweet and sincere, and
how they responded in kind. It was endearing to see someone genuinely
interested in others.
Maybe a little more than endearing.
~~~
“You ok? You haven’t said a word the
whole ride.”
Jack threw his jeep into park as we
entered the barn. I shook my head, realizing I had zoned out on the short drive
home.
“Sorry about that. Just a little
tired. All that food and chatting wore me out.”
I grabbed the door handle and hopped
out of the jeep, reaching inside for my camera bags while Jack grabbed the
quilt.
“Sherry got you to buy one of her
quilts, huh?”
“It’s cute,” I said defensively.
“Plus, you should have seen those ladies faces when I bought it. I went from
‘heathen from the city’ to ‘sweet girl down the road’ in a matter of seconds.”
Jack put his free hand up as we
walked to my door,
won’t think I’m rude if I don’t find a nice way to wrap up our conversation,
will you?”
“Not at all. Leave. I insist.”
I grinned and rushed off to make
myself a plate. As I walked along the table with my paper plate in hand, I
scanned the traditionally southern dishes. I heaped some macaroni and creamed
spinach on the plate before making it over to the grills.
Father Mike wasn’t kidding when he
said the nuns made everything, as I walked up to a woman dressed in dark
clothes behind the grill, wimple on her head and a cross around her neck.
“What can I get you? We have ribs,
brisket, all sorts of goodness.”
“I’ll try the brisket.”
“Good choice,” she winked, placing a
pile of meat on my plate. She tossed a couple of ribs on there and added,
“These are a favorite too. Special recipe.”
“Thank you, Sister...?”
“Sister Catherine. Enjoy your meal,
Miss Quinn.”
I forced a nervous smile, still
unaccustomed to strangers knowing my name. At least this sister was friendly. I
found an empty table and sat down. I took a bite of the brisket and closed my
eyes. The meat was smoky and sweet, practically melting in my mouth, nothing
like anything I’d tasted before. I knew barbecue in the south was supposed to
be better, but I didn’t imagine it could be so different.
“How’s the food?”
I didn’t have to open my eyes to
know it was Jack’s voice. “So good I almost took the Lord’s name in vain.”
Jack laughed. “Well, don’t let
anyone else hear you say that. But I know what you mean.”
Jack set his plate down on the table
across from me, along with two plastic cups.
“Oh, thanks, I totally forgot to
grab a drink.”
“Sweet tea.”
“Excuse me?” I held a forkful of
macaroni in front of my face, waiting.
“Sweet tea. That’s what I got you.
Can’t have barbecue without it.”
“Oh, sweet tea. Gotcha.”
“What did you think I said?”
“Nothing.”
“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”
I nodded and looked around at the people
milling about, smiles on their faces, the smell of barbecue and cool fall air
all around. “The church holds these events often?”
Jack nodded. “Seeing your neighbor
for a few minutes each Sunday doesn’t really give you an opportunity to get to
know them. The church figures the more time we all spend together, the more we
invest in each other.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“You don’t sound too convinced.”
“It’s not that. I’m just not used to
it. I couldn’t even tell you the names of the people who lived in my last
building, let alone tell you anything about their personal life.”
Jack leaned forward against the
picnic table. “And do you prefer that? Keeping people at arm’s length?”
I shrugged. “Not everyone.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Jack gave
me a quick wink before turning to say hello to some of the townspeople at the
next table. I watched the way he gestured as he told a story, his hands
calloused and strong, the way his sapphire eyes seemed to dance when he
laughed. I was amazed how at ease he was with everyone, sweet and sincere, and
how they responded in kind. It was endearing to see someone genuinely
interested in others.
Maybe a little more than endearing.
~~~
“You ok? You haven’t said a word the
whole ride.”
Jack threw his jeep into park as we
entered the barn. I shook my head, realizing I had zoned out on the short drive
home.
“Sorry about that. Just a little
tired. All that food and chatting wore me out.”
I grabbed the door handle and hopped
out of the jeep, reaching inside for my camera bags while Jack grabbed the
quilt.
“Sherry got you to buy one of her
quilts, huh?”
“It’s cute,” I said defensively.
“Plus, you should have seen those ladies faces when I bought it. I went from
‘heathen from the city’ to ‘sweet girl down the road’ in a matter of seconds.”
Jack put his free hand up as we
walked to my door,
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