Ghost Washed

Chapter 2: Seeing Red

"Uh hu, alright sweetie, we'll have em ready for ya tomorrow, okay, bye naw." The sturdy woman behind the counter slammed down a land line. She mumbled into her planner as her short brown hair shook, "Poor Mums, why don't cha pump yerself full a chemicals to force yerself ta bloom and see how YOU feel! Heeey Jimmy! When j'all get E-in?"

"Hey Tam," Dad said as they power hugged. Mom and Tam held hands and looked at each other long after their squeezing was over. "I'm so glad I got ta keep you!" Tam said, referring to the nasty divorce from Red that made Dad's family not hers anymore. But she and Mom had way too much in common and all of it involved plants.

"Where you want these, Coach Wallace?" A guy in khakis and work boots was struggling to contain the giant ferns blocking his face. I knew that deep voice. He put down the flat of plants and looked at me. "Well hey, Starshine."

"Hey Bradley." I tried to be casual as I took in his white t with a band of hunter green at the neck and biceps. The line drawing of a trout swam across his chest. Bradley Reynolds. There was no question as to his hot properties. He was like a movie star from the last century, teeth not quite straight, a perfectly regal nose, and dark hair that flipped casually away from hazel eyes. "A'd hug you, but A'm sweating," he said in that deep old-school drawl as he pulled his shirt away from his chest. His accent was so different than Granny's and Tam's. It flashed images of mossy country club steps in the expensive shade.

"Oh good, the McIntosh's ferns," Tam said. "She's been peskin' me about those. Can ya get em over there ta-day?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Bradley said.

"Don't you 'yes ma'am' me. I told ya that bugs the crap out a me."

"Yes, Coach Wallace." Tam used to be the prep-school softball coach, until she had a midlife crisis, met Chris, divorced Red and opened a nursery. Chris was her partner in more ways than one.

"The only place to get decent Gladiolas in the area," Chris herself proclaimed as she came in with armloads. Bradley helped her carry the buckets to the window and arrange the rainbow spikes. Chris was lean and wore her silver hair in a ponytail.

The water cooler next to them sported the Reynolds logo. I'd always known Bradley's family had started the company generations ago, but now I knew why they had become the richest locals. No one from Crystal Rock could travel without that water for long without enduring the agonizing pain Mom and Dad had once gone through to start a new life. Most people weren't that brave. And we all still drank it anyway.

As if my parents hadn't been through enough in crossing over to the dark side off water time, they still had the sacred water shipped in. They had confessed this to me last month―once I discovered the truth without their help―that it wasn't just because the city tap was nasty. Reynolds water from Dad's home town was a kind of added insurance that kept an unendurable, inexplicable pain at bay.

"Perfect, Glads are Red's favorite," Mom said as Chris stopped to hug her too. "We're going to visit him and we desperately need a peace offering."

"Okay, these are so bright he'll be seeing red with his eyes closed, I mean not seeing red like he's mad but, you know what I mean. He'll love'm," Chris stammered.

"Have time for a hike while you're in town? Tomorrow's ma day off." Bradley turned to me. "Ah mean, unless you're still scared a non-venemous snakes."

A memory flashed: our hike last year had involved me screaming like a five year old and him holding me with his strong arms to protect me from the snake, which as it turned out, he identified as harmless and let slither away. "I won't scream; I've seen a lot worse than that this summer."