Ah, so her guess proved correct. They were in the same school. Also Jacob pulled on her pig tails too? Well, fortunately he had never tried that on her or Clara would have slapped him a good one. And yes, she just knew little Miss unpronounceable first name purposely said "silly little schoolgir" in front of "pig tails". If she was trying to provoke her, Clara would not take the bait. If she was trying to annoy her, oh yes, Clara was definitely annoyed. Fortunately she wasn't staying any longer. Good riddance.
"Well anyway, see what you can do about those lemons, girl: after all, you wouldn’t want to spoil my Eighteenth Birthday party now would you?” the girl asked rhetorically.
By this point, Clara did want to spoil her party but obviously did not voice that less than Christian remark, "Like I said, no fresh lemons, sorry."
“Bye, Jacob.” A.... smiled one last time to the seated boy, before flouncing off.
Jacob looked up at her "Fresh Lemons?! Fresh arsenic would be a better ingredient!” he said with some emphasis.
Clara gave him a look as if to say "now, now that is a bit harsh" but inwardly was glad he didn't seem to like that girl much at all. So probably not competition then, she was relieved.
“I was just thinking … I know where you can get fresh lemons – that’d show her!” Jacob suddenly declared.
"And just where can you find fresh lemons locally?" Clara was dubious in the extreme. There was no part of Montana where lemons ever grew.
"Yes, Dear"
And just where can you find fresh lemons locally?" Clara was dubious in the extreme. There was no part of Montana where lemons ever grew.
Jacob’s face betrayed that certain narrow eyed look of mystery that people can’t help adopting when they know a big secret that no-one else knows, and they’re just about to spill it. He sort of beckoned Clara inward toward him, as if it were imperative that nobody else in the diner, or for miles around, should accidentally eavesdrop on the intelligence he was about to impart.
What he then said, in hushed and reverend tones, sounded very much like plain old “Farmer Brown”
“Haven’t you ever heard of him? F. Falmer Browne, he’s that recluse who lives in the Residential District.” Revealed Jacob, referring to the mysterious streets of actual stone-built buildings beyond Main Street, where only the richest and most elite members of Kalispell ‘society’ (such as it was), like the Orrs and other members of the Town Council lived, and where the likes of Clara and Jacob were seldom likely to tread.
“He’s a… whatd’yacallem?... vegetarian, see? I have to deliver fresh produce to him once a week, you know, big stuff he can’t grow himself in his art-i-ficially heated greenhouse.” Jacob said the phrase like he’d learned it by rote, a scientific term you wouldn’t usually use in everyday talk.
“He’s got hydroponics, that’s plants just growing in water, no soil at all! And all sorts of things you just can’t grow up here, including lemons.” he said significantly. Then something else occurred to him that she would be interested in. “Oh, and Clara … the BOOKS! You’ve never seen so many books in one place, the whole house is like one great big library.”
“Still” said Jacob, getting the conversation back on track to what was really important, “I’d rather spend one hour on your Pa’s farm alone with you than a whole year in Professor Browne’s library.”
Suddenly Jacob was acting all secretively, gesturing for her to come closer so he could whisper or something? Clara took one step in his direction and he would have to make due with that.
"Farmer Brown?"
“Haven’t you ever heard of him? F. Falmer Browne, he’s that recluse who lives in the Residential District.” revealed Jacob.
"Never heard of him," was her quick reply.
"He’s a… whatd’yacallem?... vegetarian, see? I have to deliver fresh produce to him once a week, you know, big stuff he can’t grow himself in his art-i-ficially heated greenhouse.”
"Yes, vegetarian....they refuse to eat meat," Clara pointed out even though it certainly seemed likely the boy already knew what that meant.
"So?" He was talking about delivering vegetables, what did this have to do with fresh lemons?
"He’s got hydroponics, that’s plants just growing in water, no soil at all! And all sorts of things you just can’t grow up here, including lemons.” he said significantly.
"Lemons come from trees, you cannot simply grow them in water," Clara scoffed.
His next bit of information was more interesting though. “Oh, and Clara … the BOOKS! You’ve never seen so many books in one place, the whole house is like one great big library.”
"Oh? Well, good for him then. Pity he does not choose to share his treasures with others rather than hoard them in his house," Clara pointed out.
"If I had a library I would open it up to others to borrow my books. Rather a waste to just have them sit there collecting dust," she shrugged, "This town could use a library someday now that I think on it."
"Yes, Dear"
"Never heard of him," was her quick reply.
Jacob couldn’t help feeling that Clara thought he was just making the eccentric sounding figure up! But that was the thing about recluses, he supposed, they were pretty reclusive.
"He’s got hydroponics, that’s plants just growing in water, no soil at all! And all sorts of things you just can’t grow up here, including lemons.” he said significantly.
"Lemons come from trees, you cannot simply grow them in water," Clara scoffed.
“Hydroponics AND lemon trees, clever.” Jacob corrected, smiling with his eyes as they met hers. “I’ve seen them! And if you don’t believe me, go and see for yourself.”
His next bit of information was more interesting though. “Oh, and Clara … the BOOKS! You’ve never seen so many books in one place, the whole house is like one great big library.”
"Oh? Well, good for him then. Pity he does not choose to share his treasures with others rather than hoard them in his house," Clara pointed out.
“Well…” Jacob started, but Clara was ‘off on one’.
"If I had a library I would open it up to others to borrow my books. Rather a waste to just have them sit there collecting dust," she shrugged, "This town could use a library someday now that I think on it."
“Oh, he’ll lend you all the books you like: he tried to foist his Gibbon on me, you know, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, three volumes." ." he added, in case she thought that 'Prof' Browne's offer had involved some sort of primate... "But you know me. Anyhow, I suppose a lot of his books are about how to grow lemons in Montana and that sort of subject, but you never know, he might have something you’d like.”
He then thought about the last thing she’d said and looked wonderingly off into the distance.
“But yes, you’re right. This town needs a library just as much as it needs a hospital or an orphanage or all those other things that everybody’s talking about. Maybe we could start one ourselves! Hmmm. Kalispell Public Library, founded anno domini 1876, by Miss Clara Anne Redmond and Mr Jacob Lukas Lutz, that sounds pretty fine doesn’t it?” he asked dreamily.
"Well....I find it all difficult to believe but I do not think you to be a liar," Clara admitted. Not that it mattered, she was in no mood to go to this man's residence in pursuit of real lemons for that stuck up annoying girl. As for the books though - well that was certainly tempting so maybe someday but she had other things on her mind now. Jacob had agreed to show up at the farm.
Clara also remarked that one thing the town could certainly use in it's inexorable march to civilization would be a library. Jacob felt the same.
"But yes, you’re right. This town needs a library just as much as it needs a hospital or an orphanage or all those other things that everybody’s talking about. Maybe we could start one ourselves! Hmmm. Kalispell Public Library, founded anno domini 1876, by Miss Clara Anne Redmond and Mr Jacob Lukas Lutz, that sounds pretty fine doesn’t it?” he asked dreamily.
"Start one ourselves? Oh that is pure whimsy, Jacob. And....wait! How do you know my middle name is Anne? I never told you that," Clara now wanted an answer.
"Yes, Dear"
So, Clara didn’t think he was a liar, huh? That comment stung his soul a little for, in all conscience, he knew he was as big a liar as anyone else. Most of the ones he told, to others or to himself, were of the little white, common or garden variety. But he’d also told a few whoppers in his time.
Well, haven’t we all?
There was one thing he couldn’t lie about, and never would, and that was his fascination and affection for the serious and sensible young woman with the dark brown hair and eyes. And said girl thought his library idea not serious or sensible at all.
"Start one ourselves? Oh that is pure whimsy, Jacob.”
He shrugged, imagining that the Great Pyramids of Giza and the Coliseum had probably started as a bit of pure whimsy, too: projects invented on the spot by an ancient Egyptian or Roman boy in some long ago, far away diner in Alexandria or Rome to impress a beautiful girl.
And....wait! How do you know my middle name is Anne? I never told you that," Clara now wanted an answer.
Jacob chuckled. “How do I know that your name is Clara Anne Redmond?” he repeated the question, saying her name in a high pitched, girlish, gossipy Southern accent. “Oh, I know all about Clara Anne Redmond! Why, did you know that Clara Anne Redmond has a great big scar where a Injun shot her? And Clara Anne Redmond’s favorite person from the olden days is Joan of Arc and I stayed in her house for a week when a house falled on mah head, and do you know what size boots Clara Anne Redmond takes? A short little person like that?...”
In his haste to amuse her with his accurate, if slightly cruel, impersonation of Arabella, he realised he might have accidently insulted Clara, and stumbled out an apology.
“Oh sorry, I mean, er, I think your feet are just right, not too big at all!” He said, glancing down, sort of relieved that yes, seeing the amount of her practical footwear that poked out from under the hem of her skirts, they weren’t toooo big. Sure, they were pretty big, but not really noticeably so.
“And whatever scars life has thrown at you, I reckon that your body’s as beautiful as I imagine it is, I mean, when I say I imagine your body…, er, I mean… well, you know what I mean!” he stumbled.
She’d complimented him on not being a liar, he could hardly claim out loud not to have spent many a happy hour imagining what treasures lay beneath her plain brown dress. He especially liked to think about what her nipples maybe looked like: small and brown was his guess, with that scar somewhere abouts, asking to be 'kissed better'. As for her… oh, oh. Things were getting uncomfortable downstairs again, and he tried to shift his mind back to Public Libraries and Apple Pie.
“How do I know that your name is Clara Anne Redmond?” Jacob repeated the question, saying her name in a high pitched, girlish, gossipy Southern accent. “Oh, I know all about Clara Anne Redmond! Why, did you know that Clara Anne Redmond has a great big scar where a Injun shot her? And Clara Anne Redmond’s favorite person from the olden days is Joan of Arc and I stayed in her house for a week when a house falled on mah head, and do you know what size boots Clara Anne Redmond takes? A short little person like that?...”
As soon as Clara heard the faked southern accent she knew who that was alright - Arabella! She should have known. That girl could no more keep a confidence than a horse could recite the alphabet. Oh gosh, even the part about her scar? The Joan of Arc reference was fine, nothing embarrassing there but the shoe size? WAIT!
Did Arabella think she had big feet? She most certainly did not. Plus she was NOT short either.
"Oh sorry, I mean, er, I think your feet are just right, not too big at all!” He said, glancing down.
"Well, there is nothing wrong with them," Clara frowned.
“And whatever scars life has thrown at you, I reckon that your body’s as beautiful as I imagine it is, I mean, when I say I imagine your body…, er, I mean… well, you know what I mean!” he stumbled.
So he was thinking about her body? A part of her was angry about such a violation of her dignity but on second thought the whole concept was rather....exciting, intriguing that he had even been imagining such a thing. Yes...it was confusing, this jumble of thoughts in her head right about then.
"I do not know...I suppose I do get it," her answer sounded more like a question than a declaration.
"We best move on past such a ...topic," she suggested. Maybe save it for when they were in private was a followup thought but no way was she going to voice it.
"I really need to get back to work now, let me go get you that piece of pie ...oh, and a water too," with that she beat a hasty retreat.
OOC: Alright, this one is now completed.