A Year on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [57]
Cici took out a cutting board and began to slice a firm, ripe tomato. Since the tomatoes had started coming in, tomato sandwiches for lunch were the highlight of the day. They all agreed that none of them had ever tasted a tomato as sweet, as rich, or as purely tomato as those that came out of Bridget’s garden. A single sandwich made worthwhile every moment of that dreadful morning they had spent in their nightgowns protecting the garden from the sheep.
Cici spread a generous swath of mayonnaise on two slices of white bread. “You don’t really think it was the sheep who were pulling up your plants by the root, do you?”
“What else could it have been? Remember, they were coming through the hole in the fence, and we practically caught them red-handed on the nanny cam.”
“Hard to say what you caught on the nanny cam,” Cici reminded her. “Besides—”
She broke off as the sound of a high-pitched screech cut across the grinding of the lawn tractor. The dog started to bark furiously, and the screech came again, and again. Cici dropped the knife and rushed to the window, and Bridget ran to the back door. They each arrived in time to see Lindsay racing away from the path of the lawn mower, which was chugging around in ever widening circles. She was screaming and swiping madly at the air as she ran, the dog barking and circling her wildly. As they watched, she tore open the front of her shirt and wrestled out of it, tossing it away. She ran toward the house in her bra and denim shorts, slapping at her bare shoulders and thighs. Sam, who had gone to his truck for a tool, turned to stare. The men who were laying the pipe came around the corner to investigate the commotion and stopped dead, staring. Bridget flung open the back door and tossed a tomato at the barking dog, who scampered away about five feet but continued to bark furiously.
Lindsay cried, “Bees!”
Cici ran to her, slapping a kitchen towel through the air to knock away any lingering insects, and pulled her inside. Bridget ran to the freezer and pulled out the ice bin. Cici demanded, “Are you allergic?”
“No, I’m stung!” cried Lindsay. “Look at me, I’m stung!” Red welts were beginning to rise on her arms, chest, shoulders, and even her bare belly.
Bridget made soothing sounds as she gingerly applied ice packs to the stings, and Cici searched through the bathroom vanity for antihistamines. But for the most part all they could do was wince in sympathy and murmur things like “Oh, honey” and “Oh, you poor thing” while dabbing with ice and cortisone cream at the angry red knots that rose up on her face and neck and arms.
And suddenly a stricken look crossed Lindsay’s tear-streaked face. “Oh my God, I just took off my shirt in front of all those men!”
Bridget and Cici returned a sympathetic look. “Well, at least you were wearing a pretty bra,” Bridget offered.
Sniffing, Lindsay looked down at her soft white torso. “But my stomach is flabby.”
Cici smoothed back Lindsay’s hair. “I wouldn’t worry about that, honey. I’m sure no one noticed.”
“They were too busy looking at your bra,” added Bridget.
“Well, that’s it for me,” Lindsay declared wetly, her voice muffled through the ice pack she pressed against her face. “I’m never getting on that lawn mower again. I don’t care if the grass grows over our heads. I could have been killed!”
The other two murmured agreement, smoothing her tangled hair away from her face. “Don’t you worry. As long as you’re all right, that’s all that matters.”
A timid knock came on the back door, and Sam poked his head inside, carefully averting his eyes from Lindsay’s half-naked torso. Lindsay quickly dragged a towel around her shoulders to cover up.
“Um, I just wanted you to know we stopped your lawn mower,” he said. “Guess you ran over a pretty big yellow jacket nest. But they’re about settled down now.”
They had not even noticed that the sound of the lawn mower had stopped.
“Oh,” said Cici. “Thank you, Sam. We appreciate your help.”
Sam looked uncomfortable. “Well, it’s not all good news. We couldn’t exactly get to