The middle son

Chris Bartlett stood before the wide windows in the kitchen of the farmhouse. He smiled as he remembered helping his father renovate parts of the house the summer after his mother died. It was as though the old farmer was honouring his Sunshine's wishes to open the house up with big windows and a bigger patio, although Chris knew she just wanted to make sure he did not shut the world out after she died.

Chris ran a large hand through his greying dark brown hair as he inhaled deeply. His two older and two younger brothers and their families were to arrive soon, and he wondered how he would cope with the noise of ten adults, seven teenagers, five children, and two babies. His own wife was busy baking and he turned to watch as she delegated jobs to their two daughters. The three were bonding over whoopie pies, chocolate brownies, chocolate cake, and a decadent black bottom pie. Death by chocolate, Chris thought with a little smile then turned to look out the windows once more and at the red barn up yonder.

He watched their son walk to the one pear tree that had somehow found a home in the hen coop and flourished. His heart ached a little for Matthew as that day replayed in his mind... the red paint... the old farmer falling... the old farmer dying in his sons' arms... Matty begging for help... the old farmer smiling as he said her name... My Sunshine. Chris could still hear his father say his mothers' name and believed with bold comfort that as his father's heart failed him, his eyes were resting on her. He seemed to be smiling. He looked to be at peace.

Chris laughed a little as he watched Matty snatch a pear from the tree then run from the three or four hens chasing him. He seemed pleased with himself as he bit into that pear while walking back to the farmhouse. Chris turned to his family just as Matty joined them in the kitchen.

"Is it sweet?" he asked his son as he tossed what was left of the core into a bin.

Matthew nodded then in one sweeping movement, snatched a whoopie pie from a tray and ran from the three Bartlett women who laughed and yelled in protest as they chased him from the kitchen. Chris laughed a little louder, nodding as he realized his son was handling the old farmers' death far better than he was.

He hated death. Sorrow was hard to bear and grief stung with memories and regrets. He could still recall the five stages of grief as told to him by his school counsellor when his mother had passed. Chris reflected on that time thirty-two years ago. I'm fucked... that's all, he thought as he downed what was left of the Bud in the glass bottle. Then when he heard cars and people nearing the farmhouse he exhaled, opened another, and turned to look at the old barn once more.

His father was a tough man, but his mother could tame him. John and Sunshine Bartlett were an odd couple that worked. John was the son of a farmer, having inherited the small farm from a long line of Bartlett's. May to October every year came alive with movement and music as two or three backpackers would help his parents on the farm. The men helped his father pick the apricots, sweet cherries, raspberries, and strawberries in June and July, the nectarines, peaches, and plums from July through to September, then the apples and pears from August through to October. While the women helped his mother with the green beans, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, and eggplants that flourished under her green thumbs.

The farm wasn't big and certainly paled in comparison to the larger commercial ones surrounding theirs, but it was profitable, and Chris and his brothers never were in want of anything. Backpackers were paid and well cared for by John and Sunshine. The old red barn was converted into comfortable living quarters and although rustic, came complete with a bathroom and kitchenette.

Sunshine often visited the backpackers, listening to their traveling tales and always asking for more. She loved the music they played and the stories they told while John preferred to walk among the crops and smoke his favourite cigarettes. But every full moon he and his Sunshine would climb the ladder and sit in a quiet embrace to admire her beauty from the open barn doors. They both were content, and Christopher always knew this.

People came and went every year, and all were forgotten when the new year rolled in. All, that is, bar one.

Kirra.

Christopher first met Kirra in June of 1989. He was 17 years old and she was 16. School was out for summer and a family of four was the first to arrive on their farm looking for work. Chris' two older brothers had left for the summer, so John appreciated the strength of Kirra's father and her brother who was 18, while Sunshine welcomed the female company of Kirra and her mother.

Kirra was tall and skinny with very little curves. She was almost as tall as him which Christopher strangely liked. When they talked, he could easily look into her dark brown eyes although her wild wavy hair often got loose of their bun or plait and partially covered them. He quickly learned they were from Australia and as hard as he tried, he could not recall ever meeting Australians before. What surprised him more was that Kirra’s mum was an Aborigine and although married to a white man, Kirra and her brother Jarrah were still often singled out because of their brown skin.

Christopher knew from the start of that summer that Kirra had captured his heart and as he spent every night of the first week thinking of her, he found that this curiousity was reaching into his pants so that they stretched under the satisfying feeling of fullness there. He would close his eyes and see the dark brown freckles sprayed gently across her nose, her full lips stretched into a wide smile, and the way she looked away when he looked at her. Her shyness was alluring, and her accent was amusing yet bewitched him. He could watch her all day and night if given the chance.

July 1989 came too quick for Christopher. He was popular with the girls at school, yet Kirra wouldn’t give him the time of day. Then one afternoon he found himself alone with her as everyone else ventured to the farmer's markets to sell their produce.

"Hey," Christopher said with a nod as he leaned against the wall of the barn near where she sat.

Kirra was reading a book, which he thought was strange to do outside of school. She looked up at him and smiled so he felt a bit more confident in approaching her.

"What are you reading?"

Kirra read to the end of the page, placed a bookmark there then closed it. "Nothing now," she answered then reached out a hand to him. "Help me up?"

Christopher held her hand and gently pulled her arm so that she stood before him.

"Sunshine taught me how to bake a chocolate cake. Wanna make one with me?" Kirra asked with a smile.

Christopher nodded then walked beside her to the farmhouse, listening as she spoke about Sunshine and realized he did not have the faintest idea of how to cook let alone bake a cake. That didn't matter though as Kirra told him to grease a springform pan then sift the cocoa, flour, and baking powder while she creamed the butter, sugar, and salt until it was light and fluffy. They laughed and talked about what they wanted to do once summer was over.

Christopher watched in awe as Kirra beat eggs then added the dry mix to these in a folding action, all the while talking about her dreams of becoming a chef and owning a farm like theirs to grow her own produce. After adding the melted chocolate then the milk to the batter, Kirra stopped and stared at him. Christopher held his breath as she neared him.

"Serious question," Kirra spoke evenly then broke into a big smile. "Chocolate chips or no chocolate chips?"

He exhaled. "Definitely chocolate chips."

As the cake baked in the oven, they licked the bowl and spatula clean then washed all that they used while Kirra spoke about the importance of a tidy kitchen. Christopher could hear his mothers' words spoken in Kirra's Australian accent and he couldn't help but smile. They iced the cake after it cooled and as he bit into that first slice, he smiled as he decided what he had to do next.

"I have a serious question for you," Christopher said after he finished his slice of chocolate cake. "Can I kiss you?"

Kirra smiled and looked away from his gaze. He held her left hand with his right then pulled her gently towards him. She smiled then tilted her head and closed her eyes. Christopher leaned forward and pressed his lips on hers.

"Definitely yes," Kirra said and he kissed her again. He thought both his heart and his pants would explode as she kissed him back, adrenaline running through his veins setting his body on fire.

But then engines were heard, and they pulled apart as car doors slammed shut with very little noise from their passengers. Christopher glanced out the small kitchen window and didn't see his parents. Kirra's mum had driven their own car and her dad had driven his parents' car home. He frowned as he saw his two younger brothers walk to the house with their heads hung low.

"Where's mum and dad?" Christopher asked as he ran to the front door just as they walked inside.

Christopher's two brothers did not answer but were ushered upstairs by Kirra's mum to the bathroom. Her dad placed a large hand on his right shoulder and directed him back into the kitchen where Kirra stood frozen behind the counter.

"I have to tell you something difficult Chris," Colin James spoke quietly. He inhaled sharply as though trying to dislodge the words from his throat. "Your mother was in a... freak accident. Your father is at the hospital."

"What? Is she alright?" Christopher asked, leaning forward to draw the answer from him.

"She's dead, Chris," Colin said sombrely. "A bull at the markets somehow got free of its enclosure and it took off down to where everyone was. Its horns... one of its horns struck your mum in the chest and she bled out... she died. Your dad is sorting out stuff. I-I gotta go back and pick him up."

Christopher took a step backward as though Colin's words had punched him in the chest. He reached for his heart and felt something... he did not know what. He saw his mother and thought he should have been with her. He could have protected her from death. He would have taken her place.

He inhaled and could taste chocolate in his mouth. He looked at Kirra and felt the sting of death for the very first time.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my second piece of Vocal's Summer Fiction Series! If you enjoyed it, please send me a like by clicking the heart below or by sending a tip. I appreciate your support.

The story starts with "Sunshine and the moon's shadow: the old barn" and will continue with "Head over heavy heart: earthy tones of stories untold".