Southern Secrets Society: The Grooming | #Suspense | RomePi™

͋ 3 ͋ Saturday, November 30, 1991 (BWWM)

I even took the time to arrange their decorations and whatever yard ornaments they wanted to be put in place because, in my mind, I was engaged in a living work of art.

After I stood back to take in the finished picture, I gave it my own stamp of approval by placing an Imperial White butterfly spike closest to the sidewalk. I would shove it deep in the ground as if I were signing a painting. The mental picture was captured in my mind and my job was done.

"Young lady, this is absolutely amazing. My yard has never looked this good." Mr. Clayton beamed as he walked around his front and back yard to take in my work. Once he had satisfied himself that the work was as good as everyone had claimed, he added his name and number to the list of references.

In his pale white freckled hand was the one thing that made me happiest of all. I could see my pay and even though every muscle in my body was angrily protesting any further movement, I shook his hand after he counted out seventy-five dollars to me.

It was only when the job was done and the money was placed in my hand that relief settled in.

"Thanks so much for trusting me." I always showed my customers appreciation because they didn't have to hire me in the first place.

"No, ma'am. Thank you and make sure you check with me during the spring. I may have some work for you then." He smiled as he continued to scan over his yard.

I washed my hands at the outside faucet. I know it may seem like a strange practice in the coldest part of late fall, but that was a requirement.

"Don't go inside anyone's house." I could clearly hear my mother's words as I grabbed the jacket I left dangling from my ten-speed bike when I started to get hot from working so hard.

Since I was no longer moving around this or that, the chill reminded me fall was on the way out as winter forcefully made itself known. I pulled my jacket on and donned my wool gloves. I retrieved my matching hunter's orange beanie from my jacket pocket and placed it on my head before positioning myself to ride away.

There were very few crucial daylight hours and despite the cold, I was determined to look around for potential customers.

The good thing about riding a bike was that I could go a further distance in a shorter period of time. This allowed me to connect with a few people to set up more appointments. Many of the yards I passed by were already clean or there was evidence that someone was already working on them.

I found myself on the edge of dusk with maybe thirty minutes before I had to turn it in for the day. Just as I decided to call it quits, I looked up nearly half a block directly in front of me and there it was.

The most beautiful multicolored brown brick home hooked me and drew me in.

Ever since I was a little girl, colors have always fascinated me more than I have the words to express what they mean. My love for the naturally neutral color brown has been a mystery my whole life.

Art classes taught me that brown is an anchor color. As far as I'm concerned, it holds all other colors by adding a foundation and balance to them. Many different colors can be created by starting with brown. Other hues are enhanced when they are in the presence of brown.

I guess, it's safe to say I have a healthy respect for brown.

When my eyes fixated on the house and the mountain of heavy Magnolia leaves surrounding it, I felt as if I was no longer touching the ground. Even though I was beyond exhausted, the house called out to me. I succumbed to its call as the allure of it pulled me the short distance down the street. I wasn't sure if I was tripping or not, but I was convinced my body floated until I made it to the front door.

As I stood before the door, I recalled what I learned in my art classes about flower bearing trees.

The Magnolia flower and its leaf are gargantuan compared to the Apple, Dogwood, Peach, Pecan, and most of the other flower-bearing trees. The weeping willow was a dramatically fantastic tree with its long branches and leaves creating curtains as they hung down to the ground.

With all of the enduring qualities of flower-bearing trees, the Weeping Willow was to be respected far above the others. But in truth none of them stood a chance in the presence of one of the most majestic trees in the South, the Magnolia.

To behold the magnificent vision of the Magnolias framing the skyline above the home, for the first time in my life, I felt a buzz. I understood what a sculptor must feel upon viewing an uncut boulder of marble.

Surrounding the house, there were several of these trees.

In my mind's eye, I saw an untouched canvas. And with that thought, my mind began to hum and sing with questions and possibilities.

I pressed the orange doorbell that was easily seen as the day transitioned into night. In no time at all, my ring was answered.

"Hello. How can I help you?" The gentleman answering the door was someone I had never seen before.

Since Loveall happened to be a small town, I was convinced I'd seen everyone at least once. For a moment, I was stuck in my thoughts with my tongue refusing to move.

Though I was still young, that didn't mean I was blind. The man standing at the door was no child nor was he the typical older customer I'd encountered on practically every single job.

This man was in a few words, "smoking hot". 

Not only did he open the door, but he also turned on the porch light.

He stood in the doorway wearing shorts and a wife-beater.

Ok. Please don't get me wrong, the view of him was breathtaking, but it was the end of November and the temperature was dropping by the second. Even though I was dressed from head to toe in my warm weather gear, this man was dressed like it was the hottest part of summer.

His clothes weren't inappropriate just unexpected. He wasn't lewd or out of place, but again, I must reiterate this... he was smoking hot.

I felt like a big dodo bird because my mouth refused to allow my lips to work besides the occasional pop or sputter. I chucked at my inability to articulate to exhaustion.

Yeah, that had to be the reason for my sudden lack of decorum.

His raven-black wavy hair tried to hide hints of noticeable gray. It really didn't make sense because he looked so young. Striking green eyes searched my face with noticeable questions as I stood frozen to that spot. A well-toned arm moved his hand as he reached out to lightly touch my shoulder. That small gesture slammed me back into the present along with bits and pieces of my reality.

"Are you okay?" He asked as I peered up at him. I desperately wanted to respond but my mind kept tripping over itself. I have never lacked manners a day in my life, but what good were they when I felt so awestruck?

Every rule I had ever been taught about respect and safety went flying out of me as I lost myself in the presence of the most beautiful individual I'd ever personally laid eyes on.

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