Full Circle

She closed her eyes. When she spoke again, it was with a quaver in her voice.

"And I just want to hold her, you know? The way I did when we were snuggled in her bed, reading library books. I want to whisper in her ear and make her understand: 'There is no better life. Because you are my life.'"

"You folks leave some room for dessert?"

The waitress's cheerful voice startled me. Sandra looked away and swiped at her cheek with a crumpled napkin. I slid a fresh one across the table.

"Just the check, please," I said.

When the waitress left, Sandra chuckled. "How did we spend this entire time talking about me? I'm so sorry."

"For what? I wanted you to tell me. And I'm glad you did."

"But I didn't have time to learn any of your deep, dark secrets."

I shrugged. "Then I guess we'll just have to meet for lunch again."

*******

Katie arrived on Tuesday excited to start applying the stain.

Her enthusiasm made me smile. When we'd started, she'd viewed the project as a punishment and a chore. Now, you could sense the pride she felt in her work and her eagerness to see the final result.

As I showed Katie how to work the stain into the railings and balusters, I stole an occasional glance at Sandra, who was reading at the picnic table in the front yard. A few times I thought I caught her watching us, but her eyes always darted quickly back to the pages of her book.

"Hey," Katie said, "when I'm finished with the porch, am I going to know karate?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"You know, like in The Karate Kid. You've made me think I've been fixing up your porch, but this whole time you've also been teaching me martial arts."

"Sorry. I don't know karate."

"Right. That's exactly what a secret karate teacher would say." She winked at me. "Say no more, sensei."

I shook my head. Kids were weird.

The wheat was still too wet to harvest from the previous night's rain, so I caught up on some equipment maintenance while Katie worked. When I stopped back to check on her later, she'd finished the first coat on the railings and balusters.

"Want me to start on the floorboards?" she asked.

I glanced at the sky. "Not sure there's enough light to finish."

"So, what now?"

I thought for a moment. "You bring your sketch pad?"

She nodded.

"Good. Then go find something to sketch. I'll count it as time spent paying off your debt, same as if you were working."

She cocked her head and stared at me. "Wait. Seriously?"

"Well, you gotta clean up the brushes and put away the stain. But after that, yeah."

"Okay," she said, shrugging. "You're the boss."

For their next two visits, we followed the same routine. Katie would apply a coat of stain, then head off to sketch for an hour or two. On those days, I'd shut down the combine a little early so that I could make it back to the house and sit at the picnic table with Sandra for a bit while Katie was off sketching.

By the following Thursday, the porch was finished. It looked terrific. Katie worked hard at feigning indifference, but I could see the pride in her eyes. After some gentle arm twisting, she even let Sandra take a photo of her standing next to the still-glistening wood.

"This calls for a celebration," I said.

"How do you celebrate a porch?" Katie asked.

"By going out to dinner, of course. My treat. I'll even drive."

Sandra shook her head. "You don't need—"

"I know a good Italian place. We can all go Monday."

"You've already given up enough of your time for us."

"It's supposed to rain all day, so I won't be harvesting anyway. C'mon."

Sandra sighed. "Okay. But you're not paying for Katie and me."

"We'll see."

The weekend flew by. I arrived at Sandra's apartment on Monday evening with butterflies in my stomach. I didn't know why. It wasn't a date. It was just a celebratory dinner with friends.

Sandra answered the door in a simple green dress. A small pendant on a thin chain rested just below the hollow of her neck. She wore her hair half up, the black locks drawn away from her face and cascading down her back.

Her casual elegance made me self-conscious about my own clothes. I'd dug out an old pair of chinos that still fit and thrown on a blue button-down shirt.

I cleared my throat. "You look ... great."

She smiled. "Thanks. You clean up nicely, too." Her smile faltered. "Listen, Katie's not feeling well. She doesn't think she can go."

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that."

"I would have texted earlier," Sandra said, "but she said it came on pretty suddenly."

I'll bet it did, I thought. I was sure that kid had planned this since the moment I'd suggested dinner. I could tell Sandra felt the same way.

She shifted in the doorway. "Do you want to reschedule, or ..."

"No, I'd still like to go. I mean, if you're up for it."

Her shoulders seemed to relax a bit. "Great. Let me just grab my bag."

She ducked back inside. I heard her whisper angry words to Katie in Spanish before returning to the door.

"Have fun!" Katie called. Then, perhaps realizing she'd sounded a bit too perky, she lapsed into a coughing fit.

Dinner was awkward at first. The restaurant's ambiance was cozier than I'd remembered, with warm lighting and soft music. I fidgeted with the cloth napkin on my lap. Sandra and I sipped water from our glasses at each lull in the conversation.

We both loosened up after a few glasses of wine. I rarely drank, so the alcohol hit me pretty quickly.

"You know, we never had a second lunch," Sandra said between bites of salad. "You owe me some secrets."

"All my secrets are boring. What do you want to know?"

"Let's start simple. Were you born here?"

I looked around. "In this restaurant? No. I was born in a hospital."

She rolled her eyes. "In Kansas, I mean."

"No, I grew up in eastern Washington. My family owns a wheat farm. Both my brothers still work there."

"Then how did you end up in Kansas?"

"How does any guy end up anywhere? I followed a girl."

She grinned. "Heather?"

I shook my head. "Rachel. My high school sweetheart. She went to KU."

"And you went to college with her?"

"College wasn't my dream; Rachel was. Or so I thought. My parents tried to talk me out of it. Said I was too smart to go chasing a girl across the country. Of course, I knew better. While she took classes, I picked up odd jobs and rented an apartment near her dorm."

"How long did it last?"

"Not even a semester. Dumped me for some benchwarmer on the football team."

The waiter stopped with our entrees.

"Why'd you stick around?" Sandra asked.

"Just stubborn. Didn't want to slink home to mom and dad with my tail between my legs and admit they were right. So I hopped around the state, looking for work doing what I knew best. Caught a lucky break when Mr. Polk hired me full-time. He didn't have a family, so when he retired, I bought the place from him."

"And how did you meet Heather?"

"At a friend's wedding. That was an even luckier break. Heather and I were paired in the wedding party. If we hadn't been forced into conversation, I would never have said a word to her."

"Why not?"

"She was way too pretty, and I ... well, I don't much like talking to folks."

Sandra smiled. "See, I think that's one of your secrets."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you do like talking to people. You just tell yourself you don't."

We finished our dinner, then shared a slice of tiramisu. It had been a long time since I'd been to a restaurant with anyone, and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it.

I didn't agree with Sandra that I secretly enjoyed talking to people, but I did like talking to her. Her eyes had a warmth that made me feel comfortable sharing things. More than that, they made me want to share things. And when her face lit up in a smile at something I'd said, I couldn't help smiling back.

We stayed at our table long after the tiramisu was gone and our check was paid. We stayed until we felt the cold glares of the serving staff, who would glide silently across the dining room every few minutes, hoping a reminder of their presence might nudge the last table out the door.

Sandra sighed. "I know we should leave, but I don't feel like going home just yet."

"I know a nice porch nearby," I said. "Freshly stained."

There was that smile again.

"Sounds lovely."

Luna greeted us back at the house. I let her out for a bathroom break, then she trotted back inside and stretched out on her bed.

I turned to Sandra. "You want anything to drink? I have beer and ... well, just beer."

She laughed. "No. I think I've had enough to drink tonight."

She walked to the porch swing, clasped the chain in one hand to steady herself, and slid into the seat. Pressing her toes to the floor, she gave a big push, then lifted her legs. Her head tilted skyward as the swing moved in a lazy arc. The fabric of her dress fluttered in the breeze.

I watched her, smiling. When she lifted her head again, she caught my expression.

"What?" she asked, smiling back.

"Nothing. You look happy. That's all."

"I am. I love these things. If I had a house with a porch swing, I'd never leave home."

She closed her eyes. The swing marked time like a silent pendulum. As it lost momentum and slowed, Sandra brushed her feet against the wood, bringing the swing to a stop.

I felt awkward standing against the railing watching her, so I made my way over to the swing. The seat dipped as the springs lengthened under my weight.

We sat together in silence. The rain had stopped, and the breeze carried a rich, earthy scent. Above us, sluggish clouds drifted across the crescent moon.

"I'm tired," Sandra said.

She leaned against me and rested her head on my shoulder. Her hair smelled of sandalwood.

I sat motionless, enjoying the warmth of Sandra's skin against my own. Her breathing slowed. I waited a few minutes to see if she might move, but she didn't stir.

I shifted and gently turned my head to see if she had fallen asleep. At the same time, she raised her head from my shoulder.

Her brown eyes found mine. For a long moment, I held her gaze.

The kiss happened without conscious thought. One minute, I was admiring the delicate lines of her face. The next, my lips were pressed to hers.

Sandra kissed me back, her lips soft and warm, the scent of wine on her breath.

I hadn't kissed anyone since Heather. A burst of memories flooded my mind. I thought of the way Heather's mouth would stretch into a smile whenever I surprised her with a morning kiss. I remembered the way she'd giggle if I brushed my fingertips across her bare stomach. I could still feel the soft touch of her palm on my face.

Only, the feeling of a palm on my face was more than a memory. Sandra's hand was pressed to my cheek.

I broke the kiss with a start. Sandra knew something was wrong. Her brow furrowed in concern.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." I forced a smile.

"James, I hope I didn't—"

"You didn't. It's just ... it's been a while. That's all."

Sandra nodded. She shifted to the side and placed her head on my shoulder again.

We sat together, just as before, but everything was different. My arms felt tense and rigid. Earlier, Sandra's body had melted into mine, but now she struggled to find a comfortable position. Silence hung thick and heavy in the air. I felt I should say something, but the words wouldn't come.

Sandra spoke first. "I should probably get home to Katie."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I suppose so."

I drove her home and walked with her to the apartment. As we stood outside the door, her eyes searched my face.

"I had a really nice time tonight," she said.

"Me too."

I stared at her, unsure of what to say or do next. Part of me wanted to kiss her, and another part of me wanted to get back to my truck as quickly as possible. Sandra watched me, waiting.

In the end, I did nothing.

"Thanks again for dinner," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Then she disappeared through the door.

*******

I lay awake most of the night, scolding myself for my stupidity.

I'd known where things with Sandra were headed, but I'd stuck my head in the sand, hoping I was smart enough not to screw up our friendship.

Then I'd gone and screwed it up anyway.

I prided myself on my ability to prepare and think things through. It was one reason I'd managed to keep my yields up, even during tough years. I was diligent about weed management. I made sure potassium levels and soil pH were optimized. I did my best to be proactive about equipment maintenance.

Now, I'd allowed myself to act on impulse. I'd started stumbling down a path without even considering where it might lead. I had threatened the delicate equilibrium in my life that I'd worked so hard to achieve after Heather's death.

And now there was only one way back.

I watched from the porch as Sandra and Katie made their way across the yard the following afternoon.

"So, what's our next project?" Katie called. She tossed her sketchpad on the picnic table.

I walked down the steps to greet them.

"Well, that's the thing," I said. "There isn't another project right now."

Katie gave me a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're all paid up."

Katie shook her head. "That's not right. I've been tracking hours. I still owe you."

"The work you've done has been fantastic. It's worth way more than twenty bucks an hour."

I glanced at Sandra. I could see the silent plea in her eyes. I forced myself to ignore it.

"I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you if I kept forcing you to come out here," I said. "But I can't tell you how grateful I am for all you've done. You and your mom both."

"James," Sandra said softly, "if I said something last night, or did something to—"

"What happened last night?" Katie interrupted.

"Nothing," Sandra said. "Nothing happened."

"Then why are you guys being so weird?"

"Look, Katie," I said, "the truth is, it's a really busy time of year for me. It's hard to find work for you while also staying on top of all the things that I need to do."

"You mean I'm an inconvenience."

I ran a hand through my hair. The conversation was not going as I'd hoped. "That's not what I'm saying."

"Really? Cause that's what I'm hearing."

Sandra placed a hand on Katie's arm. "Let's talk about this at home. Okay?"

Katie pulled her arm away.

"After harvest ends, I'm sure I can find some more work for you to do," I said. "You both could come back on weekends. Or afternoons. Or whenever."

I was rambling now.

"I thought I was paid up," Katie said.

"You are. I'm just saying that—"

"No. I don't need your pity."

"I don't pity you. I respect you. You owned your mistake and paid your debt."

"So we're dismissed?" Katie asked, stepping toward me. "Is that it?"

Sandra slid in front of her daughter, blocking her path, then turned toward me.

"Thank you, Mr. McCreary," Sandra said, her tone formal and detached. "I'm glad we could come to an arrangement about the damage done to your crops."

I opened my mouth to respond, but I could think of nothing to say. Instead, I watched as Sandra and Katie walked across the yard to their car. Katie didn't even stop at the picnic table to pick up her sketch pad. I heard Luna whining from inside the house.

As Katie opened the passenger door, she fixed me with a hard stare.

"Enjoy your porch," she called.

*******

I spent the next day moping.

After four years, I'd managed to find two people whose company I actually enjoyed—two people whom I cared about—and, in fewer than twenty-four hours, I'd hurt them both.

I wanted to make it right, or at least make it better, but I knew they would need some time. So I was surprised when Katie showed up the following morning, pounding her fist against my door.

I gave Luna a bone to keep her occupied, then joined Katie on the porch. I glanced around the yard for Sandra.

Katie shook her head. "It's just me."

I spotted a bicycle leaning against the bottom of the steps.

"Where the fuck do you get off?" she said.

"Hey. Watch your language."

She ignored me. "Mom told me to let it go. Problem is, I've never been good at letting things go."

Katie's jaw was clenched. I could almost feel the rage radiating from her skin, like waves of heat from a brush fire. All that anger needed a place to go. The best I could do was allow her to let it out.

"My mom opened herself up to you," Katie yelled. "She doesn't do that with people. Like, ever."

Katie was speaking for her mother, but the pain in her words didn't belong only to Sandra.

"I know," I said. "I—"

"And then you threw her away when you were done with her. Like a piece of garbage."

I could see her fighting back tears. She lost the battle, and they spilled down her cheeks. Her hand swiped them angrily away.

"Well, she's not garbage! And you don't get to treat her that way."

I kept my voice soft. "Katie, listen—"

"No. I'm not listening to anything you have to say. You thought you were ... what? Teaching me a lesson? Helping me get my life together?" Scorn dripped from her words.

She threw open her arms. "Look at you. You can't even get your own life together!"

The words hurt, not because of the anger behind them, but because they were true.

"My mom is the strongest person I know," Katie said. "She doesn't need you. She taught me a long time ago that the only person you can rely on is yourself. I just wish I'd listened better."

She walked down the steps and snatched up her bike. I could think of nothing to say to soothe her hurt. Even if I could, I doubted she would want to hear it. She swung her leg over the seat and began to peddle away.

"Stay away from my mom," she called, without looking back. "And stay away from me."

I took her advice. For the next week, I threw myself into my work.

During the mornings, while waiting for the wheat to dry, I'd tend the cattle pen and grease the combine. Afternoons involved harvesting and maybe hauling a load of wheat to the elevator. I was taking a bit of a gamble selling now, but wheat prices were solid at the moment and selling early allowed me to avoid the elevator storage fee, which the operators had recently jacked up.

I typically called it a day around nine p.m., when the evening humidity made the wheat stalks too tough to run through the machine. By the time I ate dinner and played with Luna, I was pretty wiped out.

No matter how hard I worked, though, it didn't make a difference. The moment I allowed my mind to settle, my thoughts instantly turned to Sandra and Katie.

It scared me.

My last days at home with Heather had been hard, but not as hard as my first day without her. The weight of her absence staggered me. How was it possible that the face I awoke to every morning—the face I expected to see lying beside me forever—was one day just ... gone?

I wasn't strong enough to bear such a loss again, so I took measures to ensure I never had to. I built walls. I cut myself off. I embraced absence because it meant nothing more could be lost.

When I craved connection, I found it in other ways. Photos. Memories. Heather's sketches. These were permanent. Nothing could take them away. They were my company and my solace.

Then I met Sandra and Katie. At first, their presence seemed innocuous. But, bit by bit, they had taken root in my life. Where before there had been nothing, something new had grown.

It happened so gradually that I never noticed. Or maybe I just pretended not to notice.

My kiss with Sandra changed that. It awakened in me feelings that had withered but never quite died. It reminded me of the time before absence. It reminded me of joy.

And it scared the hell out of me.