Pie at the fountain

It was more than a farmer’s market, though that’s the name that had taken root. It began years ago when a few local farmers parked their trucks, tailgates down with baskets of vegetables in the back, in the local veterans’ park, in hopes of making a few dollars, but mostly to catch up on local gossip and compare the size of this week’s tomatoes.

Justine had been a regular since the booths with tents were erected and the foot traffic began to grow. She was the pie maker and it was no secret that her apple, ginger, cinnamon pie was the reason people came back each week. A whole pie could be purchased or a slice a la mode to enjoy while walking the market. Today’s crowd was heavy and a line was forming. It was her fault she knew. She was distracted today.

A soft breeze blew through the tents and fair weather had all in good spirits, but Justine wasn’t in a place where she wanted to make small talk. She let her hired college girls run the sales while she sliced today so she could turn her back on customers, but mostly so she could watch the family by the fountain.

The mother and son had been sitting on the marble edge for some time today and their antics amused her and gave her a delight she hadn’t had in a long while. Was this joy she was feeling, a slight smile crossing her lips. That for sure hadn’t happened in some time. She guessed the boy was about 3 years old and his blue shirt with a red pick up truck was soaked. If the mother noticed she didn’t say a word. Her long dark curls fell over her shoulders and were glistening with water at the tips. His giggles made others turn to watch too.

Justine didn’t want to recognize the similarities to her grandson, she just wanted to bask in the moment. She wanted her heart to feel full for this mother, blessed with a healthy child and all the time in the world ahead of her to watch him grow. She told herself this as the tears fell onto the crust she was cutting. Life could be so unfair, but who could she really be mad at. She had to remind herself that she had 4 beautiful years with her grandson and not a moment of regret. Retiring from her job early to help take care of him was the best decision she had ever made and she wouldn’t take back one heart breaking minute of it.

It was only 68 degrees outside, Sam had checked his weather app to be sure. He was wearing a cardigan, buttoned up the front to keep the chill away and his Irish tweed cap. These old bones knew when dampness was in the air, but then, anyone with common sense would know that 68 degrees was not warm enough to play in the water. What was wrong with people today?

Sam had walked the market and looked for an empty picnic table near the fountain so as to eat his apple pie. Every Saturday the same. He had been doing this for years, but only after Charlotte had passed did he stop selling his tomatoes from the back of the truck and become a customer. He used to see James every week, selling with the seasons. Asparagus in the spring, blueberries in the summer, apples and pumpkins in the fall. James had taken a tumble and a broken his hip. Now is son and grandson were trying to keep the farm running and James was relegated to a wheelchair.

It seemed that the farmer’s market had turned into a crafty market over time. He didn’t need crocheted pot holders or a wreath for the door. He just wanted his fruits and vegetables and some local gossip.

As he finished off the last of his pie and ice cream he reminisced about times gone by and how much life had changed. He liked the good old days, what was wrong with them that people felt they had to change it all? Parents didn’t even know how to take care of their kids any more. He had a mind to tell this mother what he really thought.

Jenna was talking a little too cheerfully about the different colors in the pot holders she’d just purchased, but Percy was only half listening and frankly, Jenna was only half talking. It was small talk, he knew it. It was to cover up what she was really feeling. It was a coping thing she did and he felt for her. He scooped up the dregs of the bowl of ice cream and pie with a few uh huh’s and yeps so she knew he was listening.

5 ½ years it had been and he couldn’t admit it to Jenna, but he was beginning to smart every time the idle chit chat came up. They had a full life; jobs they both enjoyed, family living close by, a home they designed together. He just couldn’t keep talking about babies. He’d begun to think she couldn’t get pregnant because she was so stressed out about it, but he knew better than to mention that more than once.

From the corner of his eye he could see she was not really looking at the pot holder, but at the small child playing in the fountain with his mother. They were soaked and giggling. Frankly, he found joy watching them, but he knew Jenna only saw lost hope and jealousy. She kept reminding him that by now they would have had a three year-old and one year-old, the lost babies. It’s not that he didn’t mourn for them, but he couldn’t spend all his time thinking about the loss, and if he admitted it to himself, he seemed to have a lot more hope than Jenna did any more, but anything he said was a failure and he just couldn’t talk to her about it anymore. So he went on pretending to be interested in the pot holders and much as she was pretending to like them.

Abby was tired, so dreadfully tired. She put on her lip gloss every day like she put on her smiling face, with only half a heart. This child was so easy, so when her husband said they should try for another she was thrilled. Maybe a girl this time to complete their family. Twin girls born early, both with disabilities was not what she was prepared for.

Her heart was full every time she looked into those beautiful faces. She was so blessed, but the medical bills were piling up and she couldn’t put the girls in day care. They needed her and Abby didn’t trust anyone to take care of their needs like she would. Her husband was working extra hours to make up for it and she missed him desperately, especially right now in the help department. Things had changed so much since they were born.

But Abby lived on strong coffee and love. Her little family was complete. This was a rare moment for Abby and her son. She didn’t get out much, especially without the girls, but she was going to enjoy every single moment with him. They were both soaked through from the waist up, but the joy he brought her was priceless. “Mom, can we get some pie now,” he asked, “with double ice cream?” Head cocked, she stared at him for a long moment, soft smile on her face. She would treasure these moments forever.