Lirssa held the strap of the messenger bag slung crosswise from shoulder to hip. The present from Miss Eva and Mister Mason used to carry her lesson books. It still had one book in it, a small tome of a history she did not know well. But the space was greatly consumed by the packages she would deliver for Miss Eless and the messages she ran for Mister Lucky?s law office.
That she found herself in the southern part of town at the stretching bright of afternoon she took as a sign. Never had both sources of her errands had deliveries in that area on the same day, and she stood at the city gates looking south, down the road. And though it lead on past the glens and the wildlife refuge, in her mind it lead to a vineyard and a tutor.
Mister Jolly had not come to visit her. She had not gone to see him. It was harvest time. He had so much to do, so much to think about it.
It was a cheat. It was an excuse like others she had made not to start that long road south. Not this day. She finished her errands and with a shake of her legs and stretch, walked to the vineyard.
The vineyard was rustling with activity. It could not be seen from the road, but take a walk around to the back, and the patio was covered with tables. A low hum reverberated along the rows where people with sacks across their shoulders, set aches to wrists and in fingers with the gentle twisting pluck of the fruit deeply ripe with harvest. Jolyon was among them.
It was Arcelia in her bustling between kitchen and patio preparing for the afternoon rotation of breaks who caught sight of the redheaded girl. She almost dropped the pitcher of lemonade. ?Oh my! Lirssa!? She set the pitcher down and hurried over, hands clasping together in her check printed apron, then gathered up the girl in a hug.
Lirssa did wonder, as she felt herself cocooned by the strong arms and soft body, if Mrs. Arcelia and Mrs. June weren?t kin. Or maybe all kindly, grandmother-like figures had the smell of flour and lilac about them all the time and felt like being rolled up in a blanket warmed by a fire. ?Hiya, Mrs. Arcelia. Harvest time, huh?? She broke free and looked down the lines of the grapevines.
?Oh, yes, dear. Busy, busy.? She patted the girl?s cheek and then went back to her work. ?But not too busy for you, my dear. You?ll find the professor down near the end of that row there. I will have a glass of lemonade and a sandwich for you when you are ready.?
That was another thing. Food seemed to always be around these big hearted ladies, and it made her wonder more about how food could mean affection. Lirssa had mainly thought of food as a means to an end, a necessary exception to the every day. The past several months chipped away at that concept when she thought of sugared almonds, falafel, cake in mugs, pancakes.
Grapes took affection and attention, from spring through harvest. Handled with care, avoiding bruising and loss as much as possible, Jolyon worked as long as he could beside the seasonal workers he hired. It hit the accounts hard, but the harvest was a steady and good one. It would only dampen his plans a little. There was still much to do, and the excavation site had been wrapped for the season so he could focus on the vineyard and his papers. A focus that had him wholly in his work at the moment and not noticing the arrival the young girl so long ago a student who had taught him very much in turn.
She took the last few steps to his side slowly. She thought he looked tired. The tired that hits the edges of the mouth and eyes. So many people were tired. It made her feel guilty having lazed around for so long. With a final step and a gulp of courage, she said, ?Hiya, Mister Jolly.?
There are voices, cadences that like a fond melody are familiar even in brevity. Jolyon stopped his work instantly and turned. What was a pulse of delight in seeing his student standing there was tempered with a swift analysis of her condition. She looked wary. He had his own dose of guilt. He should have gone to see her. Things were complicated, but no so complicated as to ignore the responsibilities of friendship. ?Lirssa, I am so glad you have come.? And realizing how that might have sounded, he waved at the branches, ?And, no not to set you to work.?
That she found herself in the southern part of town at the stretching bright of afternoon she took as a sign. Never had both sources of her errands had deliveries in that area on the same day, and she stood at the city gates looking south, down the road. And though it lead on past the glens and the wildlife refuge, in her mind it lead to a vineyard and a tutor.
Mister Jolly had not come to visit her. She had not gone to see him. It was harvest time. He had so much to do, so much to think about it.
It was a cheat. It was an excuse like others she had made not to start that long road south. Not this day. She finished her errands and with a shake of her legs and stretch, walked to the vineyard.
The vineyard was rustling with activity. It could not be seen from the road, but take a walk around to the back, and the patio was covered with tables. A low hum reverberated along the rows where people with sacks across their shoulders, set aches to wrists and in fingers with the gentle twisting pluck of the fruit deeply ripe with harvest. Jolyon was among them.
It was Arcelia in her bustling between kitchen and patio preparing for the afternoon rotation of breaks who caught sight of the redheaded girl. She almost dropped the pitcher of lemonade. ?Oh my! Lirssa!? She set the pitcher down and hurried over, hands clasping together in her check printed apron, then gathered up the girl in a hug.
Lirssa did wonder, as she felt herself cocooned by the strong arms and soft body, if Mrs. Arcelia and Mrs. June weren?t kin. Or maybe all kindly, grandmother-like figures had the smell of flour and lilac about them all the time and felt like being rolled up in a blanket warmed by a fire. ?Hiya, Mrs. Arcelia. Harvest time, huh?? She broke free and looked down the lines of the grapevines.
?Oh, yes, dear. Busy, busy.? She patted the girl?s cheek and then went back to her work. ?But not too busy for you, my dear. You?ll find the professor down near the end of that row there. I will have a glass of lemonade and a sandwich for you when you are ready.?
That was another thing. Food seemed to always be around these big hearted ladies, and it made her wonder more about how food could mean affection. Lirssa had mainly thought of food as a means to an end, a necessary exception to the every day. The past several months chipped away at that concept when she thought of sugared almonds, falafel, cake in mugs, pancakes.
Grapes took affection and attention, from spring through harvest. Handled with care, avoiding bruising and loss as much as possible, Jolyon worked as long as he could beside the seasonal workers he hired. It hit the accounts hard, but the harvest was a steady and good one. It would only dampen his plans a little. There was still much to do, and the excavation site had been wrapped for the season so he could focus on the vineyard and his papers. A focus that had him wholly in his work at the moment and not noticing the arrival the young girl so long ago a student who had taught him very much in turn.
She took the last few steps to his side slowly. She thought he looked tired. The tired that hits the edges of the mouth and eyes. So many people were tired. It made her feel guilty having lazed around for so long. With a final step and a gulp of courage, she said, ?Hiya, Mister Jolly.?
There are voices, cadences that like a fond melody are familiar even in brevity. Jolyon stopped his work instantly and turned. What was a pulse of delight in seeing his student standing there was tempered with a swift analysis of her condition. She looked wary. He had his own dose of guilt. He should have gone to see her. Things were complicated, but no so complicated as to ignore the responsibilities of friendship. ?Lirssa, I am so glad you have come.? And realizing how that might have sounded, he waved at the branches, ?And, no not to set you to work.?