Sommer Marsden - Once Bitten Twice Shy

The market wasn’t nearly as crowded as the week before. The chilly temperature of October tended to keep the less than diehard open-air market buyers at bay. August parked the Jeep, grabbed her cloth bags and made a beeline for her first stop: the rustic bread stand.

‘August!’ Mr McAllister was a ruddy older man with white hair, sparkling blue eyes and a booming voice.

‘Hi, Mac,’ she said. He’d insisted on their second meeting she call him Mac, his old Navy nickname.

‘Here for my hearty white bread? Or possibly Beatrice’s honey-wheat-raisin loaf?’

Beatrice, upon hearing her name, wandered out from behind their restored antique Chevy pickup truck. ‘Mine, of course,’ she said, winking at her husband. ‘Who wants your boring old white bread when you can have a spectacular mélange of flavours in your mouth?’

Mac playfully elbowed his wife and winked at August. ‘Settle this bread war, August,’ he said.

She laughed, her soul lifting at being out in the sun, as meagre as it was today, and joking with the couple she always looked forward to seeing. ‘Actually, I’d like one of each. And a loaf of that Amish cinnamon bread I bought last time if you have any.’

Beatrice held up an only slightly gnarled finger. ‘One left. And it’s in the cab of the truck. I was just about to put it out on the table.’

‘But we’ll put it right in your bag instead,’ Mac said. ‘Coffee, August?’

She shouldn’t, she’d already had her super-strong concoction for the day, but when he poured a small paper cup of their superb coffee – offered free to customers – she unprotestingly let him doctor it to her liking and hand it over. ‘Thanks. Cold today.’

He nodded. ‘Yep, you can feel those cold November winds working their way into the mix already. Just a few more weeks and it’ll be too cold for an old geezer like me to stand out here and hock bread.’

‘Still setting up at the downtown indoor market when it turns cold?’

He grinned at her. She smiled back. Mac reminded her of a leprechaun for some reason. It almost always kept her on the verge of giggling. ‘You know it. So you come down there and stock up on bread through spring. We’ll miss you if you don’t come.’

Beatrice reappeared with the Amish loaf and began to gather August’s other requests. She pulled a small cellophane bag from a pile and tucked it into August’s market bag along with the bread. ‘That’s just a treat from me. Sugar cookies. My grandmother’s recipe. You look like you can afford a cookie or four.’

August felt herself blush. Her work hours and her obsession with her current projects often left her forgetting to eat except once, maybe twice a day. Her jeans were a bit loose and her face a little gaunt, she’d realised this morning. A cookie or four would be welcome.

‘Thanks, Bea.’

‘No problem. Now you stand here and drink that coffee and tell us about what you’re working on now.’

August obliged, sipping her coffee, explaining the iris paintings and even showing them some pictures on her phone. Then she went into the fairytale canvases and somehow found herself mentioning Jack and the Walking Stick tree.

‘You’re blushing,’ Bea said, leaning close.

‘What?’

‘When you mentioned his name.’

August took a deep breath and forced herself to say, in an airy voice, ‘Jack? Oh, no. Nothing like that. He’s just the guy fixing the giant pit in my front yard.’

‘Hmm,’ Bea said. Then she smiled. ‘Pity.’

August said her goodbyes and gathered her bag. She hurried off to find the farm stand that sold the best raw honey and always had wonderful big zucchinis. She put a hand to her face, feeling the heat there. She had been blushing after all.

She was deciding between cloverleaf and lavender honey when she saw him. His hair jet-black in the sun, his eyes gleaming bright as he squinted at heirloom tomatoes. Her heart rabbit kicked and her stomach dropped. August heard herself let out a low moan and the honey man noticed because he looked up.

Kendall.

August felt her lips go numb. Her number one signal that her body was under extreme anxiety. Her fingers started to shake and then the man glanced her way. Not Kendall. His doppelgänger perhaps. But not him.

Air whooshed into her lungs but the damage was done. Her body, despite the false alarm, was on red alert. All she wanted to be then was home. Home, painting, sipping a cup of tea and listening to The Dead Weather on her iPod.

August took a deep breath, handed the man fifteen dollars for the honey and took her change.

‘You OK, Miss?’ he asked. He was younger than Mac, but just as weathered. His truck read Hollow Farms so she knew that like Mac he was a farmer.

‘Fine. Just…tired. I thought –’ She smiled suddenly, waved him away and said, ‘Fine. Have a good day.’

She turned quickly, eager to get back to her car and home. The magical quality of the market had worn off. She’d skip the vegetables and wouldn’t run into the stationery store for blank cards the way she’d intended. She just wanted to get home.

August promptly ran right into a small blonde woman whose cider proceeded to spill over and soak them both.

‘I am so, so sorry –’ She started, looking into deep-brown eyes that somehow reminded her of Jack’s. ‘I’m so clumsy. Sorry – can I –’

She was cut off in mid-sentence when a familiar face appeared behind the woman and said with great concern, ‘August? Are you OK?’

Jack.

The man was Jack.

‘You know, I’d have a hard time forgiving cider on my favourite shirt if it weren’t for the fact that you made that amazing stationery,’ Kelly Murphy said. She had rich brown eyes like her brother but her hair was a shade lighter.

‘Stop busting her chops, Kel,’ Jack said, setting a decaf caramel latte in front of August.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘And it’s fine. I feel like such a klutz.’

‘You looked spooked,’ Jack said, pulling up a chair next to her. He took a sip of his Chai tea and the spicy scent of it hit August fully. For some reason it made her crave pumpkin pie. She didn’t acknowledge his statement.

‘I was only joking,’ Kelly said, laying a hand atop August’s. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I know. I know. I do feel horrible, though.’

‘Don’t. I’d have spilled this on myself anyway,’ Kelly said, hoisting a double mocha concoction.

‘It’s true,’ Jack said. ‘We’ve become convinced she has a hole in her chin.’

Kelly shot her brother the bird and August couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Glad you joined us for coffee. Do you shop at Toby’s?’

Toby’s was the stationery store located on the shopping strip that housed the open air market. It had been on her list of things to do today. ‘I do. I get all my blank paper and sets there. I know the manager and since I buy in bulk he gives me a discount.’

‘Nice,’ Kelly said. ‘I wanted to head in and get some beads. I make bad jewellery when the mood hits me. Come with us.’

August hesitated. It was the concerned look on Jack’s handsome face that made her nervous. She could see him wondering what was up and the fact that she liked him being concerned about her was unsettling. The only person allowed to be concerned about her – besides her parents, who currently resided in North Carolina – was Carley.

Her heart sped up as he studied her, his face set in grim determination as he tried to figure her out. She was forced to look away.

‘Oh, I can’t intrude on your day.’ She said it to Kelly, still avoiding Jack’s gaze.

‘Please. You’ll save me from listening to talk about you. You’re here so he won’t embarrass himself,’ Kelly said.