Strawberry Wine (3 page)

Alli started laughing much harder than his joke warranted. A few startled cafe patrons glanced their way in disapproval. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and was gasping for breath by the time she managed to get control of herself.

“That was very authentic pity laughter. Thank you.” He teased. Alli shook her head and held up the other card she had been writing. It had a watercolor of a rainbow on the front with paw prints crossing at a diagonal. Jason opened it to read
My condolences on the loss of your pet
in overly fancy calligraphy.

He was more quiet with his laughter. His broad shoulders shook with mirth and his cheeks became quite red from the effort he exerted to keep his noise level down. Alli couldn’t help but join in on another laughing fit. Eventually they both settled down, ending their giggles with high pitched sighs.

“Well, after you finish sending the worlds most bizarre birthday wishes, would you like to get that drink we talked about?” His eyes flicked down to the jug of prune juice at her feet. “Or do you have that covered?”

Alli shook her head in embarrassment and fake chagrin. “You’re a cruel man, Jason Taylor, teasing a duty bound granddaughter for helping to ensure her grandfather’s bowels remain on schedule.”

“Oh,” He said innocently, “so, it’s not your prune juice. That means you
are
lacking in a beverage of your own. Isn’t it lucky that I happen to know of a great old-school soda fountain just down the street.”

“A soda fountain, huh? You don’t strike me as the soda fountain type.”

Jason frowned. “I don’t know how to take that, but in the name of full disclosure? I haven’t actually
been in
this particular soda fountain in years. It just happens to be located next door to my favorite pub.”

Alli grinned. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I could definitely see you in a pub.”

“And what would you know about pubs, hmmm? Do you frequent pubs with a fake ID back home?”

Alli rolled her eyes. “I know what a pub is like. I have a t.v.. And eyes. And don’t live under a rock. And-”

“Okay! You’re obviously very worldly.” He offered his hand to help her up. “Pity about the ID though. It would have been fun to beat you at pool.”

The soda fountain turned out to be quite charming. It had a distinct nineteen fifties vibe - not the kind that beats you over the head like cheesy gimmick diners, but the kind ringing of authenticity. It was a small establishment that had seen little reason to change or update itself over the years. With the exception of a few of the soft serve machines, the place was mostly unchanged from it’s opening back in nineteen fifty-seven. Alli knew this, because the hallway to the bathroom was lined with black and white photos from its early days.

Alli finished washing her hands and double checked her reflection before returning to their table. Their root beer floats had arrived while she was away. As she sat down Jason raised his glass in a toast. “To summer vacations, and a nice cold beer on a hot day.”

Alli clinked her glass with his and added, “Even if it’s not the beer you had in mind.”

Jason shot her a flirty smile and nodded in her direction.

She took a big gulp and smiled to herself as she felt the cold ice cream bump up against her upper lip, no doubt giving her a frothy mustache. She caught Jason’s gaze over the rim of her glass. “I don’t mind trading in my regular drink for a sweeter version. The company is pretty sweet too.”

His piercing grey eyes were friendly, but focused. His scrutiny made her heart skip a beat and then thud forcefully within her chest cavity. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. Her mind started to race.

This is technically a date, right? Oh God. What are we supposed to talk about on an official date?

She wiped the froth off her mouth and rested her forearms against the table in an attempt to look at ease. “So, Jason, what brings you to this humble little town?” She asked, trying her best to sound breezy and sophisticated.

He looked at her funny, as if she were suddenly speaking in tongues.

“Uh... why am I here?” He asked.

“Yes, what brings you out to the country? Did you just feel like rusticating for a while?” Alli put her long handled ice cream spoon into her root beer float and stirred it around a bit to hide the slight trembling of her hands, then looked up at him through her lashes.

Jason was literally squinting at her in confusion now.

“‘Rusticating’? Um, no. I actually came to help out my folks for a bit. My dad was recently involved in a rather nasty car accident, and he’s going to be off his feet for a while.”

Alli dropped her spoon into her glass, and straightened up, her earlier awkwardness forgotten. “Oh no. I hadn’t heard. That’s terrible! Is he going to be okay?”

Jason raised his hands in a ‘calm down’ motion. “We’re optimistic for a full recovery. He broke a leg, a hip, and several ribs, so he has a lot of physical therapy ahead of him, but he’s a tough guy, and otherwise in perfect health.”

Alli visibly relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I mean, I don’t know your father that well or anything, but the few times we’ve run into each other he’s always been so nice. They must be so grateful for your help.” Alli was speaking so quickly her words were running together.

Jason smiled at her genuine concern for his family. “It’s actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I hadn’t realized how much I missed my folks. It’s nice being so close to them again.” He chuckled to himself and cocked his head, “Though I will admit having my own separate space above the carriage house makes the transition much more bearable.”

Alli smiled in a show of commiseration. She certainly knew how taxing it could be to live with one’s parents. Never mind that she technically had never known any differently. “So that’s it? You’re here to stay?” She asked.

He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yep. I turned in a letter of resignation at my old job and once my dad is back up to snuff I’ll look for work out here and get my own place.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Jeeze, listen to me. So desperate not to come across as the guy that lives in his parents’ basement.”

Alli shrugged. “I think it’s noble of you to quit your job and come to the rescue like that. Besides, you don’t live in the basement, you live above the carriage house - that’s
way
cooler. Also, you don’t spend a majority of your time online playing role playing games.” Alli paused and cocked her head at this, squinting her eyes in evaluation. “Or do you?”

Jason laughed outright, happy that Alli’s awkward nervousness from earlier had dissolved. They chattered a while, sipping at their floats and finally giving up any pretenses of dignity in regards to keeping ice cream off their faces. He was really enjoying their easy banter, and he was surprised to realize it was late afternoon. He needed to get his father’s pain medication home to him. He watched as she spooned the last few dregs of her float into her mouth, trying not to let himself get too distracted by her full lips and pink tongue.

“Thank you for the beer.” She quipped, smiling impishly as they stood to leave.

“It was my pleasure.” He answered. “I hope we can do this again. Soon.”

Alli smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.” She said as she turned toward the exit, trying her best to look dignified while walking out the door carrying a jug of prune juice.

Alli was loading a tray of freshly picked strawberries into the back of Gran’s car when a truck pulled in across the dirt lot. She caught the driver’s eye and her heart skipped a beat. Jason. Jeeze, she knew it was a small town, but running into him three times in as many days surely must be fate. The concept of a coincidence was for people with no imagination.

Alli quickly took stock of her appearance. She was quite grubby, having spent the better part of the morning picking strawberries with Gran. She had berry juice smeared in blotches across her shirt, and her knees sported matching dirt smudges from having knelt in the field. Awesome. First a trashy novel, then prune juice, and now mud stains. She was really leaving a sophisticated impression on this guy.

Gran came up behind her with another tray of strawberries. “Come on, dear. Let’s get these home and get started on our preserves.”

Gran caught sight of Jason exiting his truck. “Oh, there’s the Taylor boy.” She waved. Jason tipped his hat to them and continued on his way to the farm stand. Alli swallowed her disappointment at his not coming over to say ‘hi’. It was probably for the best, considering her state of
dishabille
.

When they got home, Gran started setting up the kitchen for her preserves making. Alli sighed, knowing she was in for a long, boring day.

“Here, Alli dear. Take these last few jars over to the Taylor’s and trade them for some of Mary’s strawberry wine.” Gran handed her a basket with the last four jars from last years stock.

Alli balked at mention of the Taylor’s. She had met Mary Taylor once before, a few years ago, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would wither and die of embarrassment if Mary let Alli’s age slip in front of Jason. She glanced at the clock. He was probably still picking strawberries. If she hurried, she could make it to his place and back before he returned. Not wanting to waste any time cleaning herself up to look more presentable, Alli grabbed the basket and flew out the kitchen door, letting the screen door smack loudly closed behind her.

Alli ran the whole way to the Taylor’s. She stopped short upon seeing Jason’s truck pulling into the drive just as she reached the front of the house. Crap. He had already seen her. She threw him a friendly smile, silently cursing herself for not changing her clothes.

Jason unfolded his long legs from the cab of the truck, and slowly made his way around to the back. He lowered the tailgate and hefted two pallets of strawberries into his arms. Reaching the front door to his parent’s house, he rested the edge of the pallets against the side of the house, holding them in place with his hip while he fished for his house keys. He unlocked the door, pushing it open with his back and disappearing into the innards of the house.

Alli waited a beat, expecting him to come back out and greet her, but the open doorway remained empty. Where did he go? Was she supposed to follow him in? She knew he saw her - he had to pass her to get into the house.

Alli hesitated another minute, then slowly made her way into the house. It looked like a traditional colonial farmhouse from the outside, but Alli noticed immediately upon entering that the Taylor’s had renovated it, opening up the main living area. Alli could hear cabinet doors opening and closing in the kitchen, and the sound of a pot being filled with water.

Alli walked farther into the house. There was a makeshift bedroom set up in what must usually serve as the den. A rented hospital bed dominated the far wall. A border collie lie dozing at the foot of the bed, his tail thumped twice in greeting.
This must be Mr. Taylor’s temporary quarters
she thought, feeling like a peeping Tom.

She scurried toward the kitchen, slowing as she approached the entryway. She set her basket of preserves on the counter, and leaned against the breakfast bar, watching as Jason set out two cutting boards on the center island.

“Come on Wilson, don’t just stand there. Make yourself useful.” He said without looking at her.

Alli cocked her head to the side. “What do you want me to do?” She asked.

He looked up at her then. “Hull strawberries, of course.” And he indicated the waiting cutting board next to his.

Alli joined him at the island and meekly picked up the knife from the board. She took a few washed berries from a colander and set about hulling them. She felt slow and clumsy next to Jason’s efficient cuts.

“Just toss the hulled berries into the crock.” He instructed, nodding his head in the direction of a crock pot.

“You must be an Olympic berry picker.” Alli said, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

“Nah,” He smiled. “Picking berries is for chumps. I call ‘em in ahead of time.”

She laughed at his teasing insult. “Where are your folks?” She asked, trying not to sound too interested.

“Physical therapy. Is that for my mom?” He pointed to Alli’s basket of preserves with his chin.

Alli appreciated the beautiful shape of his neck. “Yeah. I’m supposed to bring back some wine or something.”

“Ah, yes. The coveted Taylor specialty.”

“I don’t know why your mom would want more preserves when you obviously have that covered.” She said, indicating the strawberries and crock pot.

“Oh this? We’re not making preserves.”

“We’re not?”

“Nope. We’re making ‘some wine or something’.” He said, using her words.

“Wine?”

Jason snickered. He was in a playful mood. “Try to keep up, Wilson. We’re making strawberry wine.”

“Oh. Right.” Alli said, as if she made strawberry wine every day.

They spent the next hour hulling strawberries, mashing them in the crock pot, covering them in boiling water and adding lemon juice to the mix. They became a well oiled machine, moving in sync, each instinctively knowing which way the other was going to go. Finally, Jason covered their concoction with a linen cloth and set it in the back of the walk-in pantry.