Page 73 of Small Town Boy

“See the rock wall along the back there?” I ask, pointing to the far side of the cemetery.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“That used to be covered in kudzu. It came all the way down the hill, weaving its way through the rocks. Every summer since we were teens, Nash and I have fought that shit. Ripping it out, vine after vine, trying to clear it. But that’s the thing about kudzu. It always comes back, with vengeance, and seems to triple every time it does.”

Bronwyn nods, her face serious, as if she’s following but has no clue what I’m getting at. Can’t blame her there—there aren’t many people who care about kudzu.

“Just after Rhythm and Brews, so shortly before you moved here, I sprayed that stuff I was telling you about all over that wall. And up the hill, and a little ways past, right up to where the Terrys’ house is. Took a couple weeks for it to all die and for us to get it pulled out, but…”

“It hasn’t come back.”

“Nope. It’s late in the season now, so I wouldn’t expect it to still be growing—unless we suddenly have some mutant shit, which, it’s kudzu so…who knows. But the bigger part is, and why I wanted to show you, is that it’s gone. Completely dead vines that we’ve pulled up—and I mean dead, not dormant, dead. So no signs it’s gonna return. Real test will be the spring, but…it works.”

It works.

I suck in a breath, holding it for a second, allowing myself to be proud. The stuff works. I don’t have a name for it, and whatever we want to call it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that I developed something that is going to make a world of difference when it comes to weeds in this county.

“That’s pretty incredible.”

“Oh, young Mr. Keller!”

Bronwyn and I both turn around at the fragile voice calling out to me. Mrs. Phillips waves at me, slowly making her way in our direction. Bronwyn nods, and I follow her lead, the two of us closing the distance between us and the town matriarch.

“Hi Mrs. Phillips. Women’s Club over?”

“It is, it is. I’m just waitin’ on Jeremiah to come pick me up. He was supposed to be done over at the fire house by now, but that boy never could tell time.”

Bronwyn presses her lips into a line, trying not to laugh. Something I should have done. Thankfully, Mrs. Phillips doesn’t seem to notice my chuckle.

“Anyway, young man, I just wanted to let you know that whatever you did to my azalea, you need to keep doing it! I’ve never seen it bloom so much! It’s so bright and lush.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Glad you’re happy.”

“I am. But I don’t think I’ve seen a bill from y’all recently, so…”

“You’re all paid up, Mrs. Phillips. Don’t you worry.”

“As long as you boys aren’t workin’ for free. Oh, there he is!”

Fire Chief Phillips pulls up in his SUV, swinging around to get as close as he can. We exchange pleasantries as he helps his mother into the car, then wave as they drive off.

“You don’t charge her, do you?” Bronwyn asks as we start back toward her place.

“I’m not charging a ninety-something-year-old woman for basic lawn maintenance. She has no business tryin’ to do it herself.”

“Sounds like more than just basic lawn maintenance if she’s raving about her azaleas.”

I pause, trying to figure out how much I should own up to. Because she’s right; it is more than basic maintenance. We’ve been taking care of everything Mrs. Phillips needs around her house and yard for years, and never charging her a dime. It wouldn’t be right to.

The azaleas, however…

“That’s all the formula. And a little extra watering. I sprayed it all around the bush, so it killed some of the weeds that were encroaching, then rerouted a downspout so it gets runoff. That’s all.”

“Is that all?”

“Yup.”

Bronwyn stops dead in her tracks. I circle back the couple of steps to meet her, trying to figure out what she’s thinking.