Small-Town Life

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narrative

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Small-Town Life

A quaint little village, it boasts one stop sign where Church and Main intersect. A casual wave at a passing car always elicits a response—be it a honk or a returned wave—as it’s more likely than not you know the driver. Either it’s someone you see at church on Sunday or his son bags your groceries on Saturday morning. Probably both.

A warm summer breeze dances with the laughter of children and flirts with clean laundry hanging on the line.

At night, families gather together to bow their heads in thanks and revel in the love and laughter shared at dinner.

A tiny place forgotten by many, but remembered by God.

Grandma's Quilt

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

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Grandma's Quilt

"You will put it on your marital bed." It was a command, rather than a request, as Grandma lay the handmade quilt in my lap. She shrugged.

"Of course, not on the first night. You won't need a blanket then." She winked and I felt the heat blaze across my face. This was not the kind of conversation you had with your grandmother!

"What?" Her eyebrows shot up and disappeared beneath her grey fringe. "You think I'm too old to think of such things." She nodded. "Let me tell you something..."

I groaned. Please, I begged to whatever deity may be listening, don't let her paint too vivid a picture.

She lowered herself beside me on the sofa and arranged the colorful quilt over our laps. Her hand, twisted with painful arthritis, caressed the bright starbursts. The tiny hand-sewn stitches were evenly spaced, despite Grandma's failing eyesight and limited mobility.

"Each star is balanced. The points spread out, but they are anchored in the center." She smiled at me. "Just like you and Philip," and she covered my smooth hand with her wrinkled one. We were both keenly aware of the contrast, but said nothing.

"You complement each other. Where one is weak, the other is strong; you support one another when it is needed most. And when you argue…" My head snapped up. Grandma gave me a small tap on the hand. "Oh, you'll argue, don't kid yourself. You'll want to leave…or he will." She traced a finger along one of the points, from one end to the other.

"You'll be as far away from each other as you can ever be."

My stomached tightened. How could this woman speak so negatively? She and Grandpa had such a wonderful marriage. Why was she telling me this the day before I was getting married? My shock must have been obvious, because she took my hand and brought my finger to touch the center of the starburst.

"But you will always come back here. To the center." Grandma looked up at me and I knew what she was trying to tell me.

"To the heart," I whispered. She nodded, pleased that I understood.

"When you've both said you're sorry and you're done with the lovemaking…" I rolled my eyes, but smiled when she gave me a pointed stare, "then you wrap yourselves up in this blanket and hold each other close. And remember why you fell in love in the first place."

I nodded, swallowed down the lump in my throat. "I promise, Grandma." I kissed her cheek.

I swiped a tear from my cheek. "Did you and Grandpa have a marriage quilt?"

She nodded, her clear blue eyes lost in memories. "We used it quite a bit that first year. We were so young," she shook her head sadly, "we didn't know what we were doing. But we figured it out soon enough and it made us stronger."

Grandma let out a quiet laugh. "After a few years, whenever we argued, right in the middle of screaming at each other, one of us would storm out and come back carrying the quilt. We usually started laughing and forgot about fighting."

I grinned. "I hope Philip and I have as good a marriage as you and Grandpa."

Grandma cupped her hand to my cheek and winked. "Just try not to smother him with the quilt."

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Seven

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter six

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Chapter 7

Walking along the gravel drive, Carol surveyed the car, taking in the sleek lines, practically melting at the convertible top.

“I heard you bought the Miller’s old car.” She smiled at Billy’s frown. “Word travels fast in a small town.”

To his relief, Carol slowly nodded her approval. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath, was nervous about her reaction. Oddly, he realized, her opinion mattered quite a bit to him.

Leaning into the engine compartment, they gazed at the various components together. “Holy cow, Mr. Miller sure keeps his cars clean,” she marvelled.

Billy nodded in agreement, caressing the air hose. “Mr. Miller said she has the J-2 option package which ...”

“Which gives her 300 horsepower instead of the stock 277,” Carol interrupted. “With the V8, she’s going to go like smoke.”

Billy slowly turned his head, dumbstruck. “I didn’t know you knew all that junk,” he said, awed.

She grinned mischievously, moving around the car. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Billy Peterson,” she added airily and, opening the passenger door, she sat inside, adjusting the side mirror. “With the top down, I bet it feels like you’re flying.” Raising her arms straight up, she closed her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips and, tipping her head back, she imagined driving along a quiet road, the wind blowing her hair wildly behind her.

Billy felt a drop in his stomach then, like cresting a hill a little too fast. She looked fabulous sitting in his car like that; it skewed everything. Opening her eyes, Carol saw Billy staring at her, an odd expression on his face. Suddenly self-conscious, she brought her arms down, wrapping them around her waist, and stared at the floor.

Billy came around and sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as though it was a life preserver. Glancing over at Carol, he noticed she had a streak of grease on her arm. It was obvious she had seen it—it ran the length of her forearm. He marvelled at the fact that she hadn’t made a big to-do over it like other girls, running home to wash it off, possibly changing her entire outfit. Come to think of it, she was never fussed about her clothes. Instead, she was comfortable in cropped pants and a loose shirt, ready for the next venture at a moment’s notice. Darn if she didn’t make that simple outfit look sexy.

And what was that smell, he wondered. Billy leaned a little closer, breathing in her scent. Earthy with a slight floral hint, he decided. It smelled heavenly to him and he closed his eyes, enjoying the fragrance, smiling to himself. It occurred to him that his dad was right. It wasn’t just anyone that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. It should be someone that you’re comfortable with and want to spend time with. Someone you can laugh with, who is your friend. Someone you love.

Billy’s stomach dropped again. Love. He rolled the word around in his head, let it sit there a moment. Love. It flowed through him, warming every part of him. Huh, he thought, isn’t that something. Sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you.

Or next door.

Suddenly aware that the silence had gone on too long, Billy shook himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. Carol took this as a dismissal, embarrassed she had overstayed her welcome, and grasped the door handle, prepared to leave.

Billy grabbed her arm. “Wait.”

Chapter eight to be added soon.

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Six

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter five

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Chapter 6

When Billy pulled into the driveway, his father was waiting for him. “Andy Miller called me already. Told me that you’d bought his old Rocket.” Donald Peterson, barely containing his excitement, wandered around the car, much the same way his son had. “She’s a beauty!” he pronounced, echoing Billy’s words.

Examining the engine together, father and son leaned as one, shoulders touching. After much discussion and debate, Don clapped his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “You made a fine choice, son,” he said with a grin. “So what’s going to be your first destination?”

Billy shrugged, not quite successful in his attempt at appearing casual. “I thought I’d go to the Blowout tonight.”

Don nodded his approval. “Good choice. Show her off. Are you taking anyone special?”

Billy sighed. Oh, how he wanted to ask Susan Andrews. Surely she’d go with him now. He had a great car, she couldn’t possibly say no. Of course, she’d probably already have a date, the Blowout was in a few hours, after all.

“No. I don’t have anyone to go with,” he muttered.

“But you had someone in mind,” as though he read Billy’s thoughts. It was a statement, rather than a question. Billy nodded.

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Billy shrugged, “she’s not interested in me anyway.”

To his credit, Don kept a straight face. “Son,” he said, slowly shaking his head, “it’s not easy finding the right girl, someone you want to share the rest of your life with. You want to take your time, choose carefully.” Billy glanced up at his father, a quizzical look on his face.

“When your mother came along,” Don explained, “she made me laugh and she laughed at my silly jokes. We would talk for hours, or just sit quietly together. We just ... you know ... clicked.” He shrugged, knowing he wasn’t explaining himself well. “You’ll know when it happens.”

“But when will it happen?” Billy cried, impatiently.

“Some things are just worth waiting for.” Don glanced up, hearing the crunch of the gravel drive. “Like that,” he added with a wink, nodding his head towards the girl walking down the walk.

“I think I hear your mother calling me,” he muttered and walked towards the house.

Read chapter seven.

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Five

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter four

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Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 5

It was busy at Miller’s Grocery Store—typical for a Saturday—which was fine with Billy. It was making the day fly by and, as far as he was concerned, it couldn’t go fast enough. He simply couldn’t wait for the end of the day.

Darryl Miller watched from his office, impressed with Billy’s maturity and confidence. He assisted customers, greeting them by name, chatting easily with the adults. He heard nothing but good words about Billy, how polite and helpful he was, how he was a great asset to the family-run business. Darryl agreed whole-heartedly. Which is why he felt compelled to do something for Billy. He was a good kid, he thought, who deserved a break.

At the end of his shift, Billy untied his apron and hung it in the back storeroom. As he was about to leave, Mr. Miller approached him, wrapping a fatherly arm around his shoulders.

“Billy,” he said, “I know you’ve been wanting a car for a while. Turns out my brother wants to get a new car for the missus. She wants a new Jetfire.” Darryl rolled his eyes. “Red,” he added, spitting out the word in disdain. Billy grinned, thinking about Mr. Miller’s simple black sedan.

“I saw the ad in the paper.”

“Now what he’s selling isn’t new, mind you,” Darryl cautioned, not wanting to get the boy’s hopes too high, “but she’ll be just fine for you, I think.” Giving Billy a dismissive pat on the shoulder, he added “I told him you’d be by after work. I made him promise not to sell it before you had a look.”

Billy grasped Mr. Miller’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “Thank you, sir!” Darryl chuckled as he watched Billy ride off, pedalling feverishly.

When Billy arrived at the Miller farm, Andrew Miller was waiting for him. Wiping his hands on an old rag, he met Billy at the front porch. Recognizing the excitement in Billy’s eyes, Andy figured on waiving the niceties of asking him in for some lemonade, despite the fact that he knew his wife would take him to task for it later.

Waving the rag towards the barn in invitation, he ambled over with Billy, chatting about school, work and, of course, cars. Andy remembered all too well what it meant to be a teenager and own a car. Which is why he’d already decided that he’d price it to sell.

Sliding the barn door open, Andy let Billy wander in. It was obvious the boy was pleased. He walked slowly around the gold-tone ’57 Rocket, taking in the chrome, the sleek lines, running his hand lightly along the back fin. A grin split his face as he looked up at Andy.

“She’s a beauty,” he whispered reverently.

Andy nodded in agreement. “That she is, son, that she is.”

“But…” Billy was sure this was out of his price range. She was in pristine condition, not a mark on her. “How much?” He swallowed thickly, afraid to hear the answer, having already fallen in love with the car.

Andy folded his arms, waited a beat, then named a figure. Billy wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. That couldn’t be it, she was worth so much more.

“Too much?” asked Andy.

“No, sir!” breathed Billy. “I’ll get you the money on Monday. I’ll go to the bank and…” his words jumbled together, tumbling over each other.

Andy held up his hands, laughing. “I trust you, Billy.” Pulling a set of keys from his pocket, he tossed them to Billy. “Take her home now. Don’t you have somewhere to go tonight?”

Stunned, Billy looked down at the keys, then up at Andy. “Your bike will fit in the trunk,” Andy nodded encouragingly. He laughed quietly has he loaded Billy’s bicycle into the back, pushing the trunk closed.

Standing on the front porch, he watched Billy drive away, lost in his own memories of teenage years. He heard the screen door creek open, then slam shut behind him.

“Now why didn’t you ask that nice Billy Peterson in for lemonade?” Nancy Miller stood beside him, wiping her hands on her apron. Andy glanced over at his wife, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Do you remember when I first bought that car?” Nancy nodded, smiling wistfully.

“It was a warm summer day,” she sighed. “The top was down, and we just drove around, enjoying the countryside.”

“And?” her husband prompted, nudging her with his hip.

“And you proposed to me,” she replied, laughing, holding up her hand so the light glinted off the set of rings. “Do you suppose the old Rocket will bring Billy the same luck?”

Andy shrugged. “You can’t change what’s meant to be,” he said, knowingly. “Sometimes fate just takes over.”

Read chapter six

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Four

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter three

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Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 4

At the breakfast table, Billy sat with his head in his hands, contemplating the pile of toast sitting before him. He wasn’t hungry. He’d told his mother that. But she insisted anyway.

“You need to eat something,” Doris Peterson admonished, as she nudged the plate towards him. They sat together in silence at the kitchen table while Billy tore his toast into small pieces and Doris pretended to read the Saturday newspaper. She paged idly through the weekly, knowing that her son would talk to her when he was ready, sensing he needed to make the first move.

She watched Billy as his facial expressions revealed his thoughts. It was obvious he was reliving the events of the past week again in his mind, each humiliating moment dancing before him in vivid Technicolor.

It all came down to the car, Billy concluded. He seemed to be the only one without one. Which was fine when you were hanging out with the whole gang. But when you wanted to go to the drive-in with a girl, have some time alone, it was best to have your own wheels.

The problem was, he just couldn’t find one he could afford and, more importantly, one he wouldn’t be embarrassed to pick up a girl in. Which is why he’d been working at Miller’s grocery store, restocking shelves after school every night and every day this summer. He’d been socking away money every week and he had quite a nest egg now.

His fantasy—which he played out every night before falling asleep—was to cruise up to a girl’s house (it was always Susan’s) and idle at the end of the walk. She would rush out, her skirt flouncing around her, hair pinned high atop her head. He’d have his arm casually slung over the seat of the car, with a surly James Dean look about him and she would swoon all over him.

Doris glanced up, catching Billy’s wistful smile. As she was about to turn the page, a notice in the classifieds caught her eye. Reading through the ad, she smiled quietly to herself. Carefully folding the newspaper to reveal the small square of print, she turned it around so that Billy could read it, pushed it a little forward then stood up to leave. Walking around the table she ran a hand across Billy’s shoulder. “It will get better, son,” she murmured, and left him alone in the kitchen.

He sighed and pushed the plate of toast away, glancing up at the kitchen clock. He had thirty minutes or so before he had to leave for work. Pulling the discarded newspaper towards him, he began to unfold it when the carefully folded square came into focus. He read through it—twice—blinking several times to be sure he was reading it correctly. Then, shouting a quick farewell to his mother, he jumped on his bicycle and rode to work.

Doris allowed herself a satisfied grin. She didn’t think he’d continue moping for long.

Read chapter five

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Three

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter two

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Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 3

Carol wandered back home, kicking at the loose rocks on the walkway, muttering incoherently about stupid boys and cheap girls. She slipped into the house through the kitchen door and was surprised to see her mother standing at the stove.

“Mom?”

Linda Freeman glanced over her shoulder. “I thought you went over to see Billy.”

Carol shrugged without answering. “What are you making?” she asked, nodding towards the stove.

Linda sighed, turning back to the stove. “Oh, I couldn’t sleep. Thought some warm milk might help. Would you like some?”

Thinking it could only help, Carol accepted the offer and pulled two mugs from the cupboard, setting them near her mother on the counter. Making herself comfortable at the kitchen table, she idly watched her mother stir the milk.

What did Billy see in that horrid Susan Andrews anyway? She was nothing but a floozy!

“What, dear?” Her mother’s question drew her back. Oh my! Did she say that out loud? Gnawing on her lip, Carol contemplated confiding in her mother. She might be able to shed some light on the mystery of boys. God only knew she couldn’t figure it out on her own.

“Mom…” she began haltingly. When the obligatory ‘Hmmm?’ was returned, Carol willed herself to speak, wondering what her mother would think, or if she’d even give a suitable answer.

“How do you get a guy to notice you?” The question was barely a whisper.

Linda was grateful her back was turned so her daughter didn’t see her knowing smile. Gathering her thoughts, Linda busied herself pouring the warmed milk into mugs. Setting one in front of her daughter, and pulling the other closer to herself, she sat across from Carol.

“Are we talking about a friend, or someone sitting in this very kitchen?”

Carol rolled her eyes, unable to suppress the grin or the blush.

“Someone in this kitchen,” she muttered into her mug.

Linda took a sip of milk, gazing at her daughter over the rim. The pained expression on Carol’s face nearly broke her heart; Linda remembered all too well what the first spasms of love felt like at that tender age.

“There’s this girl at school—Susan Andrews,” explained Carol, “And all the boys are just falling all over themselves when she walks by. She wears these big flouncy skirts and cheap perfume and far too much makeup!” Carol flicked a hand in the air. “And she has enormous…”

Holding her hands in front of her for emphasis, Carol looked down at her own meagre chest and sighed, dropping her hands limply onto the table.

Linda gave a small cough to cover up the laughter that bubbled out. “Well,” she cleared her throat, “it has been my experience that girls like that seldom get their man.” When Carol raised her eyebrows in a disbelieving expression, Linda waved her hand. “No, no. I’m speaking from experience, young lady. His eye may wander, but it will finally come to rest on you. Just be yourself. If he’s worth it, he’ll come around.”

Getting up from the table, Linda walked around and kissed the top of her daughter’s head, giving her shoulders a firm squeeze.

“And it’ll be worth the wait,” she whispered. “I promise.”

Read chapter four

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter Two

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read chapter one

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Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter 2

As the footsteps approached the porch where he sat, and entered the semi-circle dimly lit by the light spilling through the living room window, he recognized Carol Freeman, his next-door-neighbour. Friends since the first grade, they had grown up together, whiling away summer days fishing at Jackson’s Pond using pilfered hot dog wieners as bait, and spending summer nights camped out in the backyard, sharing dreams and confiding secrets. Although lately their time spent together was less frequent, the strength of their friendship had not faded.

Carol sat down beside him on the step, not saying anything for a while, then, softly: “I heard what happened.”

Billy nodded, knowing that Carol was the one friend he could talk to, knew she wouldn’t laugh no matter what he said. Slowly, painfully, he told her everything that had happened; his voice becoming a mumble when he told her how broken he felt after Susan cut him down.

Carol quietly slipped her hand inside Billy’s, offering her silent remorse, as only a good friend can do. Her hand was warm and dry in his, soothing him, as they sat in silence. It was some time before Billy was suddenly aware that the tightness in his chest had faded and that he didn’t feel so alone right now.

Carol is a good person, he mused, gazing at their linked fingers. The guys poked fun at him because they were friends, but they didn’t understand. It was actually easier to talk to Carol about most things than it was to talk to one of the guys—she really listened. Not to mention that she offered a viewpoint that his friends couldn’t give him. Which meant…

“What do girls want?” he turned to her suddenly, the pain obvious in his voice. Before Carol could answer, he rushed on. “I mean, I try to be like James Dean but...”

Carol suppressed a smile. There was nothing James Dean-like about Billy. He was as clean-cut as they came: his jeans were smartly pressed, he kept his shirt tucked in neatly, his sneakers were always spotless and his hair was, at all times, trimmed above his ears and slicked back. Dependable, is what everyone called him. She just thought of him as her Billy.

“Every girl wants a dangerous guy, right?” he asked eagerly.

Sighing, she disentangled her hand from his, patted his knee and stood up. “No, Billy. Not every girl,” she murmured quietly, struggling to mask her disappointment, and walked back into the darkness.

Billy dropped his head in his hands, more confused than ever.

Read chapter three

Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter One

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives

read the summary

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Wheels in Motion ~ Chapter One

In hindsight, asking Susan Andrews to the End-of-Summer Blowout was probably not a good idea. He should have waited until he’d actually bought a car before asking Susan out, rather than just telling her he was getting one. Instead, Billy Peterson had blurted it out right there in front of everyone in the parking lot at the soda shop.

She was sitting on the hood of Jack Winter’s new DeSoto. Well, it was new to Jack; it used to be his dad’s. Sure, there was a little rust here and there, but it rode just fine and it was Jack’s. What did Billy have? Nothing, that’s what.

But he did have gumption. Which he doggedly mustered up to casually lean against Jack’s rusty old second-hand DeSoto and, toying with the hem of her skirt that was teasingly splayed out to just within reach of his hand, asked Susan if she’d go to the Blowout with him. Susan looked down at him, snatching her skirt out of his reach as though he were some beggar, and spat out “On what? Your bicycle?!” She laughed loudly at him—as did everyone else—although he did catch a few of the guys flinching.

He jumped on his bike and pedalled home furiously, fuelled by his anger, chased all the way home by Susan’s snide remarks.

Alone, he sat on the front step for hours, gazing up at the stars, sending up futile wishes to the heavens. The Blowout was next week and he had nothing. No girl, no car and no hope for either.

Completely dejected, Billy sighed and stood up, brushing his pants clean, ready to go inside, when he heard the crunching of distinctly female footsteps on the drive.

Read chapter two

Wheels in Motion

Today's muse: Wood and Pixels Narratives


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Wheels in Motion

The summer of ’62 is coming to a close. Billy Peterson has been working hard to save enough money to buy his dream car, but with the End-of-Summer Blowout quickly approaching, and no hopes of finding a car, the last hurrah seems to be fizzling out.

Things are looking up, though, as the Wheels of Fate are set in motion.

Read chapter one.