Just Some Rain

Kevin had been helping me for about forty minutes, which was about thirty-five minutes longer than I'd expected with such a competition for his attention.

"I got the dough spread out for the pies and the bacon is ready for the stuffed sausage. Would it be okay if I hung out with your puppies?"

I smiled. He was entering the age where he was too cool to 'play' with puppies, but 'hang out' was perfectly acceptable.

"Yeah, as long as they're awake. Just wash your hands before and after. And they're not my puppies. What do your folks think about dogs?"

His eyes grew large. "Can I bring one over to show them?"

There had to be rules about how old a puppy has to be before they can be adopted out, and I had no idea how old the ones in the box were, but I had a feeling that one of them would be earmarked by the end of the day.

"Why don't you see which one you like best and your folks can see them when everyone comes over for food?"

"Okay!"

He played with the pups while I rolled out the raw sausage, inserted the cheese, peppers, minced potatoes and hard boiled eggs, rolled it up, sprinkled on a sweet rub, wrapped the bacon around it and threw it on the smoker. In a couple of hours I'd add a glaze of half BBQ sauce and half maple syrup.

The pies were lined up and I layered in the potatoes, carrots, spicy pulled chicken and the rest of the ingredients before covering them with more dough. I'd have to fire up the grill to bake them, but that wouldn't present a problem. Putting them in a hotel pan with water coming halfway up the pie pan would keep the bottoms from burning.

There was a mix of St. Louis and babybacks, so I'd have to stagger the time they came off the smoker. After I trimmed them and Kevin rubbed them, they went on the smoker. We temped the pork shoulders and briskets and everything was on schedule. I'd pull them around noon, wrap them in butcher paper and throw them in a cooler for a few hours.

"Kevin, grab the hot gloves and pull out the fattie."

"Which one is that?"

"The rolled sausage thing with the eggs and potatoes."

We had three of them. He put them on a cutting board and used that to carry them in the house. One of them was for us and a second was for whoever stopped by in the morning.

I turned to my sous. "You know Mr. Phillips?"

"Sure."

"Wrap that third one in foil and bring it down to him, okay? If he says anything, tell him I said we were going to have to toss it if he can't take it and we have too much."

"But... There's lots of people coming for the block party. Probably, like, hundreds."

I nodded. "Yeah. Maybe not that many. You know Mrs. Phillips passed away?"

"Uh-huh."

"And they have three kids, right? They're all going to be getting up soon and he's still dealing with everything. The problem is, he's sort of a proud guy. He's not going to take anything directly from me, but if you bring it over, well, that's different. He won't want to be rude to you and you can blame anything on me. Tell him I'm a prick and you don't want to upset me by bringing it back."

Kevin seemed thoughtful. "Got it."

I began getting the chicken ready. If it was a competition, chicken prep would take hours. I wasn't getting scored on appearance, so I was just doing a quick trim, rubbing and throwing it on. Whole chickens were spatchcocked and I considered injecting them, but couldn't be bothered.

The puppies tipped over the box and began running everywhere on my porch. I got them more water and some of the chicken from the pot pies before it was seasoned. That shut them up. When she wasn't corralling the pups, the mother stayed as close to me as possible.

Kevin was back by the time I was returning from putting the chicken on. I was drenched; he just took off his windbreaker, which had a hood, and let it dry in the corner.

"Everything go okay?"

"Yeah, he wanted to give me money, but I didn't take it."

"Good man. I'm going to close my eyes for an hour or so. Keep an eye on the dogs and check the smoker temp in about half an hour, okay? And eat anything you want that's already cooked."

Puppies and food. What more could a teenage boy want? I thought back to Andrea and when I was Kevin's age and remembered what else he would want. Well, I could provide two of the three. The girl was up to him.

Eventually waking up, yawning and stretching, I ran out to the shed and grabbed two more 120-quart coolers. The beans went into one, along with the various sausages. The other was going to be used for the big meats after they were vented. The bacon-wrapped meatloaf went on and I kept it on the hotspot.

I explained to Kevin how we were going to bake on the 26" Weber kettle.

"Like, regular baking?"

"We gotta be a little more careful, but pretty much."

"That's pretty cool. Where'd you learn to do that?"

"My wife. She handled desserts when we entered competitions that required them."

"Where's she?"

I had no idea. If she was here now she'd be laughing her ass off as I cooked for a bunch of strangers. I could almost hear her. For free, Kenny? Really? These people are nobody to us.

"Not really sure. We're divorced."

"So, she's your ex-wife?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Ex."

"Is the charcoal in the shed?"

"Yeah. Let's leave it there for a while."

Once the divorce was finalized, I became a manwhore for a while. If someone was willing to date me, we were out there as soon as she was available. My requirements were that she had a pulse and was willing. I quickly realized that I was trying to bury memories of Ellie in a cheap bacchanalia, but didn't really care.

That lasted about eighteen months before I was disgusted with myself. I felt like I had wasted every minute since the divorce leading a sybaritic lifestyle, so I switched things up 180 degrees. Now I stayed at home, minded my own business and read. I had my big-ass shed filled with cooking equipment, my smoker, my grills, my house and my solitude. It worked.

The dog kept nudging her pups back towards the cardboard box. They were a mix of polar opposites. They were either rolling, nipping, yelping and eating or they were exhausted and sleeping.

The pork shoulders and briskets came off the smoker. Kevin had lengths of pink butcher paper arrayed on the table. I showed him how to wrap the first three and he did the rest. When they got down to about 150° internal temp, they went into the cooler with a bunch of old towels I had for that purpose.

Hour by hour the rain lessened. The college kids came back to lend a hand.

"Hey, didn't know you had the little guy here. Enjoy the... uh, stuff, later."

Smiling, I nodded. "Jim, your dad has that moving company, right? You good with hauling stuff out to the front of the house and setting up? I've got six folding tables in the shed."

"You got it."

Kevin grabbed some lump charcoal from the shed and he prepped the grill while I got the charcoal chimney started.

People began stopping by, checking on timing and seeing what they could do to help. We had six houses on my side of the street designated as block party destinations. People dragged out chairs, some folks had tents and I coordinated with people about dessert. We had a few communal tables where people brought out cookies and fruit.

By mid-afternoon we were packed. People were having a great time, and Kevin was showing off all the food he'd helped with. When I found some time between slicing brisket, pulling pork, saucing chicken and slipping food to the dogs, I sat on a folding chair on my front lawn and watched everyone.

Mrs. Ortega came over with another beer.

"This turned out pretty well."

I took a swallow. "Yeah. Not bad."

"You okay?"

"Sure. I like it here. People stay out of my business. They don't bother me. I don't know them and they don't know me, but everyone is polite. This place is a hell of a lot better than home."

She was silent for a minute, so I continued.

"The kids love the puppies. Any idea who the dog belongs to?"

"Kenny, you are so full of shit. I'm almost glad my daughter never married you. I wouldn't want my grandchildren to be idiots."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"Nope. Don't think that I will. What do you think is going on here? This is your little hermitage and the rare visitors you see nod from the distance as you go about your meditations? Everyone knows you and you know everyone. They all just think you're shy. Kevin and his family, those college kids you got working for you, Mr. Milton, even Barbara, that pain in the ass. How many times have you brought food over to the Phillips or shoveled Mrs. Cleary's driveway?"

"That's—"

"I wasn't done. Did you know that Andy checks on your house when you're at those BBQ competitions all weekend? When Cathy walks her baby, she checks your mailbox and leaves anything on your stoop. Those flowers that appear by your door in pots? They're from your neighbor's backyards. I'm sorry to break it to you, Kenny, but you are home. This is it."

I sat there, shocked. She was right. Slowly but surely, as every day had passed, this had become more my home instead of a place I'd retreated to in order to lick my wounds. She clicked my bottle with hers.

"Welcome, neighbor."

We sat there for a while in companionable silence. She leaned over and pushed my shoulder when an attractive brunette walked up to the box with the puppies. It kept tipping over and they used it to sleep in when their mother wasn't regulating their horsing around.

The brunette pushed some hair out of her eyes. "These are Penny's puppies?"

A smile on my face, I got up and walked over.

"You know the dog?"

She squatted down and began scratching the dog behind her ears. "I sure do. This cutie is Penny. She went missing when the McNiffs moved. They were heading to a retirement community and were trying to find her a home. She darted out one day and was gone."

"How long ago was this?"

"Three months? A little more?"

"Wow. Poor dog. I think she's been living in the woods since then." She stood up and I reached out a hand. "Hi, I'm Ken. Can I get you something to drink?"

She rolled her eyes. "You don't remember me?"

I flushed and felt like an idiot. "Uh, sorry. No."

"Hannah? Andrea's cousin? Shy kid who hung around the two of you when you visited your grandparents? Any of this ringing a bell? You were just talking to my aunt."

"Hannah! You... Damn, you... I mean..."

"Yeah, I grew up."

Yeah, you sure did."

"So, you back for good?"

"I... I think I might be."

"I live about five minutes from here. Maybe we'll run into each other again."

"Yeah, maybe. That'd be great. Hannah. Little Hannah. Shit."

"Things change, Ken."

"They sure do."

When she left Mrs. Ortega was still by my seat. "You know, when you left at the end of every summer, my daughter was a wreck. You know who was worse? My niece. Hannah had the biggest crush on you."

"I had no idea."

"She's over there at the table with the brisket."

"Uh-huh."

"Maybe she'd like to see the smoker."

I turned to her with a grin. "Maybe."

Getting up again, I ran my fingers through my hair and walked over to the table.

The ground was still damp and there were puddles in a few places, but the sun was out and lighting up the sky. I thought back to last night and the previous few years. Things were going to be okay. It was just some rain.

*****

I'd like to thank the Apt Adjudicators for their support and assistance as well as Nora and Charles for the editing.

My appreciation also goes out to: Brad, Jerry, Vik, Racing, MAS, Timothy, MrZ, Leon, Phillip, Laurence, Adam, Ken, Mark, Nora, Cheryl, Kerry, and Charles.

Some of you may be wondering if I've purposefully loaded up more BBQ references in this story than QHML1 has in his stories. The answer is yes, I absolutely have. We've entered a BBQ arms race. If he tops this, my next story will take place at a BBQ competition.

Everything BBQ related in the story is accurate, and you can (and should) look up Keri's Hog-Apple Baked Beans. Definitely keep them on the rack below the brisket while they are getting tasty.