Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
I take her hand and squeeze it gently. She looks my way. “Huh?”
“You holding up there?” I say in a low enough voice that no one will hear us over Dad’s ranting about the Seahawks’ offensive line failing the team, and how their only shot is to make it in the wild card bracket. Normally I’d be all over such a discussion, but other things are more important to me at this moment.
“I’m fine,” she says.
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re sweating bullets.”
“Really, I’m just nervous around new people. I’ll get over it.”
“You know, it’s Reynold’s birthday,” my mother injects, interrupting Dad’s football rant.
“Sweet Sixtieth,” my dad proudly declares.
“And you always want something that’s not just the normal birthday cake, right?”
“Frosting on top of sweet cake is just too much for me. But you can make the cake for the kids, Rosie, I’m not going to throw a fit.”
“I know you love blackberries, Reynold. And you know what? Annie here says she’s really good at making pies. I was going to make some apple pie for you, because they were out of canned blackberries at the store. But there’s a wild blackberry patch right over yonder...” My mother stands and points toward the edge of the forest. “Maybe Red and Annie can go and pick some blackberries, and use all the ingredients I have to bake a nice fresh blackberry pie for all of us instead.”
“Ooh, that sounds good,” Dad says.
“What do you think, Annie?” I add, stroking her hand. “Why don’t you show us your baking skills?”
“Uh, fresh blackberries? You mean go pick them myself?” She blushes. “I guess I can do that.”
“Good, good,” Mom says. “I’ll do some basic prep for you two so you can get started when you get back.”
We hurry and finish our food, not too fast to not enjoy it, but fast enough to get going because now we have things to do.
“There’s a metal pail near the door, Red,” my mother calls out as we get up and head back into the house. “Fill that up and we’ll have plenty for a pie with some left over to pick at.”
“Got ya, Mom.”
Annie slips on her little sweater, I scoop up the pail, and soon we are out and walking toward the berry bushes.
She lets out a long breath, exasperated and seemingly glad to be away from my family.
“They’re not that bad, are they?” I say with a smile.
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re just all like... too perfect for me.”
“Perfect? That’s a laugh.”
“You have the cutest niece and nephew, and your family gets along so well too. Your sister-in-law is so happy to help, your mother is so accepting and wants to help me fit in. It’s all a bit too sweet. And your father just seems unconditionally supportive of everything.”
“It ain’t as perfect as it seems. My dad? He likes to hear himself talk. You heard how he was going on about the Seahawks and I think only Fil remotely cared.”
“I would have thought you were into football too.”
“Usually? I am. I love the game. But with you right next to me it all seems a whole lot less important.”
More blushing. She’s so cute when she does that. I can’t resist, so I go for a kiss right then and there, bringing her lips to mine.
It’s brief, but intense. She’s exasperated again, and soon breaks out into giggling. “Is this whole trip to get blackberries just a plan to get me alone? Is your mother your wingman, Red? Er, wingwoman?”
“Kinda?” I laugh. “She’s self-serving in her own way. We’re not perfect. She’s crazy about you because she thinks if I get hitched I’m going to give her a whole bunch of grandkids.”
“The twins aren’t enough?”
“Hell no. That woman wants a whole dozen kids to spoil as a grandmother, and even that might not be enough.”
She smirks. “Are you saying you don’t want kids?”
“Are you saying you don’t, Annie?”
She sighs, and looks up at the sky. It’s ever so slightly overcast. “No, no. I want a big family too. Lots of kids.”
“How many?”
“I never really thought of it. As many as God and my man will give me, or until I decide that maybe motherhood wasn’t the best idea after all.”
“Seeing how you treat people at the diner, you’re a sweetheart. You’ll be a natural mother.”
“Thanks, I guess.” She scratches her head. “You didn’t answer me on how many you want though.”
I shrug. “Your answer is good to me, so I’ll steal it, slightly modified of course. As many as God and my woman will give me.”
We reach a small bridge, a sign that we’re almost there. This is not the first time my mother has suggested I go and pick some berries. I’m a bit concerned that the creek that runs beneath the bridge is a whole lot higher than the last time I was here, but it’s been a few years. It runs from a reservoir a bit to the north, so I guess it’s just a bit more full than usual. Not a big deal.