Free Midu's Magic by Judith Post Page B

a rut, but he
turned down her offer of a week or two off. Said he wanted to help
her build the greenhouse and set it up for her heirloom tomato
plants.
    Tired of rehashing the same thoughts, she
went to the deep sink in the corner, cleaned up, and headed for the
farmhouse. The wooden steps were slippery, even with the safety
strips Kyle had put on them, so she gripped the railing as she
climbed to their wrap-around, front porch. Their . She
couldn't help it. Whenever she thought of the porch, she thought of
her sitting in her smaller rocking chair and Kyle in his larger
one. They usually ended a hot summer day, relaxing out here.
    She took off her shoes before entering the
house. Its old, oak floors gleamed in pale rays of sunlight that
slanted through the living room's long, narrow windows. Antiques
mixed with leather sofas and wing back chairs. She padded to the
kitchen at the back of the house. She loved this room—a huge square
with a long, wooden table that served as an island. A sitting/
eating area invited people to gather in front of the fireplace.
Kyle had helped her gut the cheap, former cupboards and appliances
for a total remake. Together, they'd made it look Tuscan with open
shelving and terra cotta-colored walls.
    It felt empty now. Kyle usually ate supper
with her after they worked. She liked puttering in the kitchen with
him, liked having someone to talk with while she ate. She'd always
hoped that she'd bite into one of her apples someday, look across
the table, and know that Kyle was her life partner, but it had
never happened. How could she feel so comfortable, so secure with
someone, and he wasn't the one? But her produce was never
wrong.
    She opened the refrigerator and scowled at
the chicken breasts she'd thawed. One of Kyle's favorites was
Kashmiri chicken and rice. She was no gourmet chef, but she loved
to cook. Her dishes offered the feeling of traditional meals, but
might not actually pass if her mother—the purist—ever tasted one of
them.
    She reached for a bowl of leftover chili
she'd saved to heat for Kyle for lunch. She nuked it, then wandered
to the living room to eat in front of the TV. The news didn't hold
her interest. What was Kyle up to? A pain stabbed her right side.
This batch of chili didn't seem to agree with her. Too many
jalapenos? She downed a beer to settle her stomach. That had helped
last time. She picked up her stack of seed catalogues and began to
browse through them. A sure fire way to relax. And soon, her eyes
grew heavy. She'd worked hard enough today that when she went to
bed at an early hour, she fell straight to sleep.
    In the morning, she went to their third
greenhouse. That word again. Their . This building wasn't
nearly as glamorous as the new one—just plastic covering over metal
framework—but Kyle had already prepared all of the beds so that she
could start different kinds of lettuce and spinach plants. There
were no overhead sprinklers, but he'd hooked up the hoses and
unwound them, so that she had water.
    She pressed a hand to her lips, surveying his
work. What if Kyle was searching for something new in his life?
What would she do if he left her? She'd never considered losing
him. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Her heart ached. Kyle
wasn't her soul mate, but he was a friend. A good friend. Her best
friend. She sighed. She couldn't think about this. It hurt too
much.
    Angry with herself, she grabbed packets of
seeds and began sprinkling them in the neat rows Kyle had formed.
But this time, the dirt didn't distract her, as it usually did. She
took a deep breath. She was letting her imagination run away with
her. She was going to calm herself, enjoy this time in the
greenhouse, and make decisions when she had more information.
    The rest of the day passed as usual. By the
time she cleaned up at the small sink in the greenhouse, she was
feeling much better. She didn't have to cook tonight. Kyle wouldn't
be here. Instead, she tossed the chicken in a crock