A Subtle Breeze Bailey Bradford (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📖

He’d cut off friends for too long, and grown cantankerous. He’d thought he was being strong, but now he knew he was just hiding and feeling sorry for himself.

“Enough is enough.” Zeke wasn’t helpless or stupid. He needed to stop acting like he was.

He grabbed his cane and walked to the refrigerator. He wasn’t the world’s greatest chef, but he could cook a few things and set a romantic table. Just because he was tired of hurting didn’t mean he needed to sulk about it. Pain was always going to be a part of his life—it was up to him to deal with that appropriately. Considering the trouble he’d had with his knee for years, Zeke knew he could handle it all better than he’d been doing.

It was well past time for him to get his head on right, as his mama would have said. In fact, he thought she did say something along those lines, what with her increased visits. Whether it was that her ability to make her presence known had increased, or him being aware of her spirit, Zeke didn’t know, but whatever the reason, she was there frequently. Talking to her was something he did often, and Zeke thought he could get messages from her, to an extent.

He checked the time. It was a little after three, which meant he had almost three hours to get everything ready. Brendon was shopping in Fort Worth with Enessa, and he’d said he’d be home at six since Enessa had to meet with one of her friends at four-thirty.

The subtle hint of his mama’s familiar scent reached him and Zeke smiled even as he opened the refrigerator. “I know, Mama. I get it. I’ve been a dumbass. I’m going to make sure Brendon knows that I appreciate him. Maybe I’ll even pick him some flowers from outside.” The wildflowers were gorgeous in the spring.

One of the doors on the small cabinets above the kitchen sink swung open. Zeke blinked, then got with the game. “That’s a hint, huh?” Truthfully, he hadn’t looked up there in years. The cabinets were difficult to reach and too tiny to hold much of anything, so he’d just left them alone.

Zeke stretched up on his toes, wincing as his knee throbbed. He reached for whatever was in there, trusting his mama not to set him up to get bit by a spider or anything nasty like that.

He felt cool, smooth glass. Zeke got his hand around it and pulled it down. His heart ached when he saw the blue and green mottled glass vase. “Oh, Mama.” Eyes stinging with tears, the memory came to him easily. Zeke had been seven, and he’d saved up every penny he’d been able to get a hold of, wanting to buy his mama something beautiful for Mother’s Day. When Elizabeth had pointed out the vase at the antique store, Zeke had known it was meant to belong to his mama. The colors had reminded him of her eyes, and he’d believed the vase was destined to be hers.

Back then, he’d thought he was king of the walk once he’d bought the vase. He knew now, of course, that old Mr. Struthers must have sold it to him for way less than it was worth. Zeke wasn’t an antique expert by any means, but the vase was gorgeous, finely crafted, and it had to be worth more than the three dollars and sixty-two cents he’d managed to save up to buy it with.

Zeke held the vase up and the light reflected off of it and through it at the same time. He saw flecks of gold, like glitter, in the glass, as well as small hints of silver. “I don’t remember seeing that before.” He’d just been a kid and probably hadn’t looked closely at it.

“Thanks, Mama,” he murmured. “Brendon will love it.” Zeke carefully washed the vase even though it was surprisingly free of dust. He dried it with caution, then filled it halfway with water and set it on the center of the table.

He’d put the flowers in after he had dinner going. That way they’d be fresh when Brendon got home.

Zeke soon found himself humming, then singing some old country songs as he cooked. Even more, he enjoyed preparing the meal. He felt useful, and proud of himself when he slid the green chile enchiladas in the oven. He made a quick batch of corn mix and set it in the fridge to chill.

The cake was simple, too. He used a boxed brand but added a package of pudding mix to make it moister than it’d have been otherwise. Zeke didn’t try for fancy—he used the rectangular pan rather than two round ones. Stacking cake wasn’t something he wanted to try to do well and fail at. With just one layer, he didn’t need to worry about if it’d stay together.

By the time he had the food ready, it was five-thirty. Zeke put out the best plates and silverware they had and filled two glasses with ice then put them in the freezer. The sweet tea was ready, and with everything done, he went outside to pick the flowers.

Zeke considered the size of the vase, which wasn’t made for huge bouquets. He carefully picked the prettiest flowers he could find, taking his time. He’d hear the rumble of an engine before he ever saw Brendon’s car, so Zeke wasn’t worried about being caught by surprise.

With a handful of red, yellow and pink wildflowers, Zeke stood, leaning heavily on his cane. Squatting hadn’t been wise, but he’d done it and that was all there was to it. He hobbled back inside and arranged the flowers until he was satisfied that they couldn’t possibly look any better than they did. Not a minute later, he heard Brendon’s car.

Zeke took the glasses out of the freezer. They were nice and frosty. He set them on the table then fetched the tea. He poured it, then set the pitcher on