The sky blue 54 Ford F100 backed up to within half a dozen feet of Josette Wheeler’s farm stand at the Willow Way Farmers Market, idled for a moment and then went silent with the turn of a key. Isaac shifted in the driver’s seat as he reached for the door and hesitated when he got sight of his sister in the side view mirror. Wheeler watched from that front seat perch as she went about selling a small basket of vegetables to a young couple and couldn’t help but produce a smile that was kind and genuine at the sight. He’d worried about her when the Shanachie theater had called it quits. Dance had been such an important part of her life and he didn’t want to see her lose that joy. Seeing her today, well, that small was the type of smile that came from seeing someone he cared deeply about in an element that brought them happiness and joy. A different joy. But joy nonetheless.
If anyone deserved it…Josie did.
Isaac finally swung the heavy metal door open and stepped down from the truck’s cab where he dabbed at his brow with rag he kept tucked in a back pocket of dirt-stained jeans. Don’t let that happiness fool you…his sister was certainly putting him to work! Not that Isaac minded. Many hands made light work and he’d move mountains by himself to put a smile on her face. The engine clicked and ticked beneath the bright sunshine. The desert patina had been sealed in when he’d started a bit of restoration work. He kept the spots where the paint had worn down to the metal so everyone could see the years. Life wasn’t all that different. It was the years and the time spent living in em that gave something…someone…character. She wasn’t built for speed, but the truck thrived on a workday like this.
“Where you want em, Jos?” Isaac called out as his sister gave a wave and free pink peony to a small child who’d wandered up to the colorful stand before her elderly grandparents could come corral her. Wheeler chuckled when his sister didn’t hear. She had a way of becoming fully engrossed in a moment and inadvertently tuned everything else out. He didn’t want to holler at her and pierce the moment. The question wasn’t that pressing, and he didn’t have that far to go to figure out an answer all his own. The sibling rhythms had always come easy between brother and sister and remained just as strong and easy today.
Wheeler dropped the tailgate and leaned forward to grab and drag a wooden crate across the restored hardwood bed of the pickup truck. He’d piled sugar snap peas, potatoes, carrots, beets, rhubarb, spicy radishes and other greens as high as he could to replenish the quickly moving stock laid out along Josie’s newly constructed stand. He could thank his fiancé, Canaan, for the help with its construction. Repurposed wood meant no harm came to any trees coupled with a fresh sand job and new coats of pastel paints put Josie in business. The two had transported the stand in the back of the same Ford Isaac now used to make another delivery and then erected it just where she had wanted it. The addition of a raw metal framed bicycle turned display had completed the picturesque setting with a metal tub for bright flowers where the seat would have been and a hand painted sign hanging from one of the handlebars welcomed everyone to the picturesque stand.
Isaac set the crate down on a spare table while the elderly couple marveled at all the colorful offerings. Isaac and Cane had crafted little wooden cubbies angled towards the customers to show off the various fruits and veggies in ways that allowed them to shift and pick the ones that spoke most to them. “Got two more I still gotta get. Don’t get too hot…drink somethin.” Isaac’s drawled words announced he’d be back…and that he’d always be her big brother. A friendly, genteel smile for the couple before he casually strolled back towards the truck. Another crate, this one full of broad, bright red strawberries that looked like little hearts, rich blueberries as blue as deep water, scintillatingly dark blackberries and vibrant raspberries were brought forward and set towards the other end of the farm stand. While Josie wrapped up the grandparents’ purchase, Isaac’s sun-stained hands began refilling fruit boxes as he let his eyes wander around the Willow Way market.
Burt was a few stands down selling his flowers and giving away his stories for free to anyone who’d listen. Beyond him the folks from the Freckled Hen Farmhouse had rolled out their mobile stand they’d converted from the back half of a pickup truck to sell their seeds, jams and handmade mugs, buckets, and small gardening tools. Beyond them at least a dozen other like-minded people, families and small businesses had come out with various booths, stands and storefronts to show their support for their community, maybe make a little money and definitely make some new friendships.
“Not a bad turn out.” Isaac’s dogwood drawl rode the cool breeze coming off the swimming hole and waterfall beyond it. He’d brought the third crate once he’d emptied the fruit, its contents clinking as he set it down. “Wha?” He gave his sister a summer smile and a deviously innocent shrug before he reached to playfully tug down the brim of her ball cap. “They don’t gotta drink it when they buy it.” He reasoned as he began setting out some mason jars of moonshine. The traditional staples were on display and included White Lighting, Sour Berry, Peach, Cherry, Watermelon and Strawberry but he’d also brought along a few new flavors he’d worked up over the winter months to include Afterburner…because it was so strong it burned blue like a jet engine…and a coconut and white cream blend he called Son of a Beach. As a compromise to his sister who no doubt had little desire to see her stand transformed into a bar, Isaac also set two large, 5-gallon glass containers and paper cups for complimentary tea. One was sweet and the other, grudgingly, was unsweet.
Isaac returned the empty crates to the truck and found a seat in the shade alongside his sister. He gave her a quiet grin and reached for her hand to give her a brief squeeze while she stared off at the swimming hole in the distance. “Pretty good day ain’t it?” He asked somewhat rhetorically and then made a pointed move to sip from his own mason jar with a bit of a sheepish smirk. Seems they could drink it if they wanted to as well…within reason of course. “Almost reminds me of home…” He commented as he turned his eyes off towards the swimming hole as well and the playful shouts and boasts coming from it and the rope swing nearby. “Course…something this divine…you’d keep it to yourself, keep it squirreled away, share it only with your friends that you trusted…a good swimin hole’s like a gold mine.” Isaac had several swimming holes he’d kept a secret over the years. Back wood bends in rivers, secretive spots that others would only spoil. “Maybe…” He rolled his head to the side to give Josie a look that playfully warned her not to tease before the coming admission, “maybe sharing like you do’s a better way. I can admit that. Cane certainly thinks so…probably running around to jump off the waterfall or eatin funnel cake.” Isaac commented as he absently worked his thumb along the band on his finger.
He thought about the times she’d had to wear those terribly itchy wigs in the summer months, how she’d been teased and mocked and refused to go swimming. Thought about how it had tormented her. Now here she was, against all the odds, shining in the summer heat and bringing a bit of earthly happiness and goodness into the world. There were plenty that could learn a lesson or two from her and how she handled herself, he thought, as she jumped up to effortlessly smile at another potential customer, engage them in conversation with true interest and curiosity.
He certainly had.
Another look around came with another small sip of shine as people celebrated who they were, who they loved, deliciously grown food, amicable company, sunshine and cool water.
Pretty good day indeed.
