“Moon’s out.” Margo lazily raised her arm to point up into the midnight sky. “Days are finally starting to get shorter again. We’re ready for the steep descent into autumn.”
“Yes, that’s what happens in August.” George smothered a yawn into his shoulder, unable to move his hands since his elderly pug, Bumble, and Margo’s Chihuahua, Treacle, had taken up possession of them and his lap in general. The two pups were the best of friends. “I’m glad. It’s been a bizarre summer. Dead bodies practically falling out of the sky.”
“There were two murders. A month apart. And neither body fell out of the sky.” Margo poked a hole in his dramatic retelling. “It hasn’t been all bad. You’ve finally admitted to being in love with Murphy Baird. You’re moving in together. I’ve started dating Teagan. We’ve had good things this summer. Don’t let your mind trick you into focusing on the bad.”
“My mind is not always my best friend.” George accepted and appreciated all the quirks that made up who he was. But there were times when being autistic added additional hurdles to his life. “It does make things interesting, though.”
It had been a busy summer for George Bernard Sheth. Maybe the most active since he’d moved from Edinburgh to a little cottage in Dufftown, where he’d created his perfect wild garden, complete with multiple beehives. They were his greatest passion.
The swarming had died down at the end of July. He’d spend August harvesting honey and preparing his colonies for the onset of the cooler months. It was a routine he knew well after several years of tending to his bees.
Closing his eyes momentarily, George allowed himself to enjoy the calm of Margo’s garden. His cousin didn’t go beyond their cosy little corner of the village often and rarely got into a car, still struggling with post-traumatic stress brought on by an accident during her time as a paramedic. They visited each other daily since he lived just down the lane.
They shared their love of gardens and calm, along with the thick black hair and deep brown eyes inherited from their fathers. The Sheth brothers had moved from Udaipur to Edinburgh with their parents years ago, but his uncle had been the one to move to Dufftown. His mum and dad had remained in the larger city, preferring it to quiet village life.
“You’re due a cut.” Margo interrupted his thoughts.
George reached up to clasp the end of his ponytail. “Back, demon.”
“I’m serious. It’s longer than you usually let it get.” Margo laughed when he tried to fend her off with a made-up prayer. “George.”
“Margo.” He hated having his hair trimmed, often going years between cuts to avoid the experience. He occasionally tried to do it himself. “My heart weeps for your lack of empathy.”
1 comments:
This sounds like a good book. Thanks for sharing.
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