Chapter 1

It was the summer after my sophomore year of high school and I was starting my summer job, working lawn maintenance. Like many aspiring entrepreneurs, I had started close to home, recruiting my neighbors on the cul-de-sac to be my first clients, making the street my showcase for potential clients. At least that was my grand plan going into the summer season!

I was working on my third yard of the day, the end house on the cul-de-sac, when my story begins. Jennifer Smith lived in the large house at the end of the street, and when I had knocked on her door back in the winter to offer my services, I was prepared to do her yard for free just to have the entire block. Ms. Smith was a widow, the subject of a tragic story of her husband being killed just six months after their marriage by a drunk driver. He had been on his way home from a deal that had seen him sell his start up tech business for hundreds of millions of dollars.

Now Jennifer was all alone in that big house and she rarely came out. I had already helped her out a few times since the funeral, shoveling her drive after the big snow storm and helping her clean up a few limbs after a bad thunderstorm.

But I wasn’t doing it all just out of the goodness of my heart! No, not at all, because, did I mention that Jennifer was drop dead gorgeous.

She had married young, just out of college to an older husband, so she was only six years older than I was. On her one trip out of the house every morning, she ran several miles. If you wanted to see her run, or see her at all really, you had to get up early. She was usually hitting the pavement before six a.m. every day.

Of course, I made it a point to be up, looking out the window, especially in the summer, because she ran in a sports bra and some tight shorts and she had a figure that would be the envy of a swimsuit model. She featured prominently in my fantasies, even if I did feel a bit guilty about her widow status, from time to time.

Which brings me back to why I was willing to do her yard for free. When I had knocked on her door, back in the winter, and offered my services, she had insisted on hiring me for the full yard services package and paying me the full price.

“You’ve been so helpful to me, and I have this huge house and yard to take care of, and I can certainly afford it,” she laughed, a bittersweet laugh that belied the smile she had pasted on her face when she had answered the door. I had protested, but she had insisted, and to be honest, I’m not sure I protested very well. While I wasn’t usually flustered talking to pretty girls, Jennifer was another matter altogether, and I will admit that I was a bit enthralled by her looks. In the end, the customer I was willing to accept as charity, had turned out to be my best paying customer.

So it was, that on that early May afternoon, I was trimming the hedges around the back of her house, despite it being the wrong time of year to do so, because it was something that hadn’t been done in a while, due to the death of her husband.

I was immersed in the bushes, happily pruning away with my pruning shears, not realizing that I had worked my way close to the back door, when it suddenly swung open and hit me right in the head. It caused me to jerk and fall, sending the thick branch I was cutting straight into my leg. The angled cut I had been forced to use made it a perfect spear point, and the force of my fall had pushed the limb all the way through my calf muscle as I fell onto it.

I’d like to say that I was manly and shrugged off the pain, ripped out the limb, and kept working, but the reality was I screamed and dropped to the ground clutching my leg. I don’t think I cried, but a teardrop or two may have escaped my eyes as I lay there bleeding.

When I finally got myself under control, I noticed that Jennifer was kneeling beside me rocking back and forth and crying. She was muttering something that I couldn’t quite understand.

“Oh God,” I cried out as I tried to sit up and pain shot up my leg.

Jennifer sobbed loudly as her head dropped to the ground and I could finally understand her, as this put her head right by mine.

“I’m so sorry, Sir,” she kept repeating, “please tell me what to do.”

“Stop sitting there and go get some towels and ice bags,” I muttered angrily, not really knowing how to react.

Jennifer was somewhere between an adult and a peer for me. On the one hand, she was an adult, she had been married and owned a house, so I expected her to act like my parents in a situation like this. On the other hand, she was only a few years older than I was and when we talked or when I watched her run, I thought of her more like a peer. While I might have expected her to act more like an adult in this situation, I suppose I just fell into treating her like I would one of my friends from school, who was freaked out by the sight of blood.

So, I should have been a little surprised when she jumped up immediately and ran into the house and returned a few moments later with a handful of towels and two bags and the ice tray from the freezer.

By now the pain was no longer unbearable and I was able to think a little more clearly. I was assessing the situation and more in control, and since Jennifer seemed to be deferring to me, I just started telling her what to do, realizing that I needed to get to the hospital to get the wooden stick taken out of my leg.

It took a few minutes, but we were able to wrap the towels around the leg and create a make shift pressure bandage and these were held in place with some duct tape she found in the garage. Then she used the tape to hold the bags of ice around the wound. Jennifer next cut the stick so that only a short piece was left in my leg. Now it was just a matter of getting me to the emergency room.

Jennifer found my bag that had my cell phone and keys, and I called my mom, while she pulled her car around.

The conversation with my mom didn’t go so well. She was a little freaked out that I was calling to tell her that Jennifer was taking me to the emergency room and that I needed our insurance information. Later she would tell me that she had visions that I had cut off my foot with the lawn mower, and her hysteria led to her crying and screaming and eventually agreeing to meet us at the emergency room.

Jennifer, meanwhile pulled her Range Rover Evoque around the house literally, pulling up to within a couple of feet of where I sat. She hopped out and ran around to my side of the vehicle, again kneeling beside me. “How would you like for me to help you get into the vehicle, Sir?” she asked.

Looking back, I should have read more into her tone and manner, but to be fair, I was in a bit of shock by this time. I do remember thinking it was odd for her to be calling me sir, and she kept looking down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact with me. She just knelt there, waiting for me to tell her what to do, rather than taking control, as I should have expected an adult to do.

Instead, I took the lead. “Stand here beside me so I can pull myself up without putting any weight on my leg,” I ordered and she complied immediately.

When I screamed out with pain, “Wait!” she stopped immediately. She just held me despite what must have been a very uncomfortable position for her.

It took a bit of maneuvering, and a lot of pain, but eventually I got into the car. Once I was settled, I realized that I was bleeding on her leather seats and carpet. So again, I just reacted as I had been in the situation.

“Go get another towel, a large one, to put under my leg so that I don’t bleed on your seat.” I said.

And again, she did exactly as I said, running as fast as she could, returning a moment later with another towel which she wrapped around and under me to keep blood from getting on the seat.

We then headed for the ER and Jennifer drove quickly but efficiently, ensuring that she hit no major bumps in the road. When we got the hospital, she again seemed to freeze, as if she had no idea what to do, so I directed her to pull up to the ambulance bay and go in to get help.

A moment later, she returned, with two men and a stretcher, but before they could roll me away, they told her she had to move her vehicle. This panicked her and I could see the fear in her eyes. I reached out and took her hand.

“Go park the car, then come in and look for my mother. She’ll be here soon and she’ll be in a panic. Make sure she is alright, then you can both come back and see me. Understand?” I said in as soothing a tone as I could manage.

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” she said and then she squeezed my hand before she dashed away.

“You really should go home and get some sleep,” I heard my mother’s voice echoing through the haze of the anesthesia. “James will get over the fact that his summer business is over, and he’ll understand that it was just an accident.”

I felt my hand being squeezed, and as I continued to awaken from the drug induced haze, it began to dawn on me that they were talking about me, talking about my business! And then what they were saying began to sink in. What did they mean that I wasn’t going to be able to work my summer business?

Then the accident and the bleeding that they couldn’t stop, and the emergency surgery all came rushing back to me.

“But his business doesn’t have to be over,” I heard Jennifer reply to my mother, “he just needs to think about it differently. You said that he worked all winter getting those mowers and tools running, and if I am correct, with just one week of work, he has completely recouped his initial investment from you of two hundred dollars, not counting his time of course, and any money he makes from here is profit. I’m proposing that he move to a management position, caring for the equipment and recruiting his friends to do the work. With me marketing the business, I’m certain that we can make as much money, if not more than he was going to make before, and even more importantly, he can build a business that he can market and sell to a competitor next year if he so chooses.”

“But why would you do this?” My mother asked again. “It was clearly an accident and I’m sure he won’t be upset with you. You need to get out and enjoy life, not be working with a teenager on his summer job.”

“Ms. Darein,” Jennifer said quietly, “this is exactly what I need. Since Greg died, I’ve been alone in that big house, I have all the money that I could ever need, but nothing that I’ve wanted to do with it. Please let me do this this to help your son. This is important to me.”

I squeezed her hand as I opened my eyes and I tried to speak, but all that came out was a squeak.

Jennifer immediately jumped up and ran to get the nurse while my mother was immediately by my side.

“Don’t try to talk James, Jennifer has gone to get a nurse, you are out of surgery and doing fine. The doctors said you would recover fully,” she said softly, in that tone that only mothers can use.

I nodded because my throat felt like someone had shoved a plastic pipe down it, which on reflection, was exactly what they had done.

A few moments later, Jennifer returned with the nurse, who dutifully took my vital signs, checked my wound and told them that they could give me sips of water. I smiled gratefully and she nodded, turned, and left the room.

Jennifer gave me a sip of water and I finally found my voice, “What happened?” I asked, “the last thing I remember was everyone going crazy in the ER.”

Jennifer replied, “When they got you back and began to unwrap your leg, you started bleeding quite a bit, and seeing that you would need surgery to remove the limb, they immediately sedated you and took you back to surgery. Everything went well according to the surgeon, though you aren’t supposed to walk on your leg for several weeks, except in rehab.”

I groaned and realized that my summer job really was ruined, that the conversation I heard as I awoke was real. “I’m never going to save enough money to be able to buy a car,” I whined.

“We’ll talk about your summer business when you get out of the hospital,” Jennifer said, the most forceful thing she had said since this event had happened.

I saw my mother nodding, though I knew she didn’t agree with Jennifer’s plan, so I let the matter drop. Besides, I was hurting and hungry and those items needed to be dealt with first.

I went home the following day, when the doctors were sure that I wasn’t going to re-open my wound, and that I understood how serious this injury was. Since the limb had punctured a large artery, I wasn’t supposed to walk on that leg, because if I didn’t allow it to properly heal, I would always have trouble with that leg. They even told me I could lose that leg. I definitely heard that and promised that I would stay off the leg, take it easy and do exactly as the therapist said.

Somehow, Jennifer also convinced my mom that she would stay with me so that she wouldn’t have to take off work. I’m sure that Mom didn’t have to work, because when Dad was killed in the service, the life insurance that he had taken out had paid off and Mom was well cared for by the monthly check from the annuity that she had bought. But I think she worked to give her some security and a life outside the home. She was very successful at her work, as she had been before Dad died, but some days she did struggle to balance being a single mother and a career woman.

All that to say, that when she was sure I would be alright, and I wasn’t likely to die, and Jennifer was sincere in her offer to stay because, as she put it, she needed to get out of the house more, Mom had put up only a token resistance.

And so it was that I woke up the next morning to the most unusual sight that I have ever seen.

Jennifer was kneeling by the side of my bed, her head bowed and her blonde hair falling forward to cover her face. I lay there just watching her for a few moments, and she seemed to be so still, breathing slow and steady, holding her posture perfectly. She radiated peace and contentment and I hated to interrupt the moment.

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Please support the author by purchasing the book from Bookapy

Master Summer Project

Lorn Skye

$4.99

Another great book from the same author

Skimmer

Lorn Skye

$4.99