A shiver ran down my spine and the hairs on my arms stood straight up. I’d always felt a bit rudderless. I’d never known who I was, I had no history… no roots. My mom had shared very little about my grandparents and she knew nothing about my father or his family. But here… here was a sign indicating a part of my family had been on this land for over a hundred years. How many generations of Woods had lived and died right here on these few acres of dirt?
Something stirred inside me as I took another look around the property with newly opened eyes. The farm was surrounded by empty fields which were only cut up by the house, the tree line, and the driveway. I could even make out the remains of this year’s crops poking up from the hard ground. Curiosity stirred as I wondered what crops had grown in the soil.
“Another One Bites the Dust…” Filled the car and I screamed as I startled.
Immediately covering my mouth with my hand, I chuckled at myself. I really needed to change the damn ringtone.
Snatching up my phone from its holder on the dash, I swiped the screen and brought it to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Are you going to sit in your car all day or come inside?” Amelia Wood chuckled as she spoke.
“Of course,” I replied as I turned off the car.
Even dragging my feet I was inside the door of my grandmother’s house in only a few minutes.
“Come on into the kitchen,” Ms. Amelia called over her shoulder as she headed deeper into the house. “I’ve got lunch on the table.”
I followed my grandmother into a large kitchen. Several windows allowed in light which only accentuated the bright yellow and white decorated room. Stainless steel appliances, cast iron pans hanging from a rack over a center island, and expensive-looking countertops completed the room. It was a kitchen any chef would appreciate. Hell, I was clueless when it came to cooking and even I appreciated the warm and cozy atmosphere.
“I just had the kitchen remodeled,” Amelia Wood’s voice came from the other side of the room.
A half-wall divided the kitchen from a kitchen nook filled with what appeared to be an antique kitchen table and chairs in the center and a china hutch against one wall. The blue paint on the wall complemented the yellow of the kitchen.
“It’s lovely,” I finally muttered.
“Take off your jacket and have a seat, Clara. I may have gone a bit overboard when I cooked lunch.” The older woman patted the tabletop in front of a chair at her side.
“I… uh… just ate.”
“Oh…” Ms. Amelia’s face fell as she looked at the bowls and plates sitting in front of her. “Would you like a drink?” She started to rise but I waved at her to remain seated.
“I’m fine. You asked me to visit and.. uh… here I am.” I waved my hands in the air with a flourish and a weak smile.
“I’m glad you came,” she smiled and looked down at the fried chicken on her plate. “Would you mind sitting with me while I eat?”
“Sure… sure…” I mumbled as I settled in a wooden chair on the opposite side of the table from her.
We sat in uncomfortable silence as she nibbled at the food she’d prepared.
“Were you expecting company?” I asked. “It’s just that this is a lot of food for one person,” I explained.
“Just you, my dear.”
“Me?” My head turned sharply as I looked at her in shock.
“Hope, Clara. Hope. I’ve been making breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day since we last talked in hopes you’d take me up on my offer for a visit.” My grandmother glanced into the kitchen. “I have food for an army in the fridge.”
She chuckled and pushed her plate away.
“I’m glad you’re here, Clara, but what changed? I hoped you’d come but the truth is, I didn’t think you would. Not really. This” — she waved at the food-laden table — “is just a foolish old woman living a fantasy.”
“I’m sorry” — I began then stopped and looked at her for several moments before continuing — “I needed a change and decided to move. I’m on my way to my new home and… well... It would have been rude not to visit.”
I see,” Ms. Amelia murmured and leaned back in her chair. “Are you in trouble, Clara?” she asked.
“Not at all,” I replied too quickly.
“Clara, if I’ve learned anything over all of these years it's not to waste time with lies.”
With a sigh, I dropped my head to the tabletop. “Life sucks,” I mumbled into the wood.
“It sure can,” my grandmother agreed.
“Amelia?” A voice called from the front door as I heard someone stomping their feet.
“In here, Franny,” Ms. Amelia called out as she rose from her chair. She stopped long enough to pat my hand before going into the kitchen. “Do you drink coffee, Clara?”
“Yes,” I replied to the unexpected question. “With lots of cream and sugar.”
Beginning to rise to see if I could help, I was stopped by a woman entering the room with a huge smile.
“I think we’ll have snow by the we— Oh, my — you must be Clara.” She went from complaining to gushing while she rushed forward and grabbed my hands. “You look just like your mama.”
“Not really.” I felt myself blush.
My mother had been gorgeous — she should have been in the movies — with the perfect fair complexion, blonde hair, and an hourglass figure. I inherited curly brown hair, an olive skin tone that tanned easily, and an average body from my father’s genetic donation.
“It’s the eyes…” My grandmother’s voice came from the kitchen. “The Yost green eyes.”
“It’s the va-va-voom” — my grandmother’s friend moved her hands in the air — “The whole package. The aura… the charm.”
I shook my head in disbelief as I turned to find Ms. Amelia carrying a tray laden with coffee mugs, a plate of cookies, and a couple of
