The Sound of Snow

Chapter Eleven: "Heavenlee"

     "And no, I didn't steal them." he said before she could ask. "I asked the owner if I could pick up the ones that had fallen off his tree. It's not much but I figured today I could try that pie recipe I found and test them out. If their good it might be worth adding to the menu. The owner said he couldn't gather them fast enough and he'd let me go back anytime and get the fallen ones out of his yard before they went rotten."

     "But, sweetie," she said softly, "You know I... I wasn't prepared to pay you today."

     "I know." Was his succinct reply.

      She was silent and for a second he thought he saw the twinkling of a tear in her eye. But it was short lived and she teasingly made to box one of his ears which turned out to be a mere pet of his cheek.

     "What do you say we get crackin'?" she hopped out of the chair – and by hop I mean hobbled. She stopped short in her tracks and threw a finger in the air. "Oh! But first-!"

     She moved to the wardrobe cabinet beside the furnace, her socks shuffling on the thin hardwood floor. After pulling out her small cheap camera she fumbled with it for a minute and made him stand towards the sunlight. She prepared to snap a picture of his face.

     "Oh?" she said then, peering closely at his brow, temple, chin and arms like she was looking for something. "No bruises today?"

     "Nope."

     He'd gotten used to her taking pictures of his bruises. It was part of their agreement – that he could get free jars of the magic ointment if he allowed her to record the healing process to help her improve the formula. In the beginning he hated it, especially that one day he came it with big red handprints on his arms. He was afraid her perceptive eyes would know exactly who had wrung them like that; but after telling a brief fib about him and his friends playing at who could have their arm wrung hardest before crying, she decidedly stopped asking questions. For the past five months that had been part of another but unspoken agreement between the pair: he wouldn't pry or ask her name, and she wouldn't ask about his injuries. Despite the elephant in the room, he grew to like it this way.

      She cocked her head to the side wryly. "No? Actually now I think of it you haven't had any in a while. Do you mean to tell me you've finally figured out how to ride that skateboard without falling every day?"

     The Boy shifted on his toes nervously, hardly concealing a proud and softly joyous smile. "...I guess you could say that."

     She grinned and her face shriveled so merrily he was sure she was genuinely happy for him. "Well, I'm glad you're not getting hurt, but I have to admit I'll be sad not to be able to test this new recipe."

     "Why don't you start selling it?" he raised the question for the umpteenth time this week.

     She sighed. "I don't know, dear."

     "Why not??" he urged. "You told me if I acted as your model for these pictures you would start selling it. I mean look at this."

     He moved behind her and pressed the buttons on the camera, scrolling back to some pictures they had taken a couple months ago. "Look at how fast my bruises went away in just two days here! With these pictures you have proof that it works. You could sell it to a drug store for big bucks!"

     "I suppose I could. But I don't really like the idea of working with a big company. It's more comfortable working from home."

     "Then sell it here." The Boy determined. "Come on, Ma'am, with how much you pay in baking supplies, by the time you finish paying the bills you have hardly any left to spare. You can't keep paying me the way you do with your current income. Advertise it to the right buyers and this stuff would sell like hotcakes!"