River City Connections—2026-06-28 (Patreon)

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SUNDAY MORNING by Cindi Allen

Michael and I are about to go into church, but we stopped long enough to take a picture first.

Yesterday at Emma and Noah’s home in Eads was wonderful. Their place is farther out than most of us are used to driving, but once everyone arrived, it felt like exactly where we were supposed to be.

We carried folding tables and chairs into the backyard, Roman and Hayes brought enough meat to feed a small army, and Jordan and Carter seemed to have thought of everything else. Emma made brownies, Noah took charge of the grill, and before long, everybody was eating, laughing, and talking across the yard like we had all been gathering there for years.

I especially enjoyed watching Emma and Noah settle into the group. They are still learning Memphis, and most of us are still learning them, but yesterday felt easy. Nobody was trying too hard. Nobody needed a reason to stay. We simply enjoyed being together.

Their backyard is beautiful, too. There is plenty of open grass around the house, and then the woods begin beyond it. It feels quiet and private without feeling lonely—at least not when the yard is full of friends.

After church, Michael and I are meeting Roman and Hayes for lunch at Belmont Grill on Poplar. I’m looking forward to hearing a little more about Bora Bora now that they have had time to come home, unpack, and return to real life.

After lunch, Michael and I plan to tidy up our own backyard for a while. Nothing major—just putting a few things away, straightening the patio, and making it feel cared for again. Then I hope we can sit outside, relax, and enjoy what is left of Sunday.

This morning, I have been thinking about how often love looks ordinary.

It can look like carrying chairs, bringing food, grilling hamburgers, driving farther than usual, or making room in a friendship for someone new.

Hebrews 10:24 says, “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds,” (NIV)

Sometimes the good work is something large. Sometimes it is simply showing up.

Yesterday, everybody showed up.

I’m grateful they did.

Have a peaceful Sunday, everyone.

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All characters in this story are fictional characters, their images generated with AI for AGI Stories. They do not represent any real person, nor is their appearance based on any real human.

YARD WORK by Emma Val

Friday night, after the guys dropped the grill off, Noah stood in the backyard with his hands on his hips, looking across all that newly cut grass.

“You cut the yard…”

“I didn’t have anything else to do.”

He turned and looked at me. I still had on the green bikini top and my old jean shorts. Then he looked at the mower parked beside the shed and back at me again.

He wasn’t mad. I could tell that right away. He just looked like he had about five different thoughts trying to come out at the same time.

I told him I drank a lot of water, dressed to stay cool, and just did it. I said it was no big deal, and it wasn’t even hard work.

“I would’ve done it,” he said.

“I know.”

“I should’ve done it.” He rubbed the back of his neck and stared across the yard. “I know this is going to sound old-fashioned.”

“A little.” I had an idea where he was going.

“I haven’t even said it yet.”

“You said I should’ve done it.”

“Because it’s yard work.”

“So?”

He let out a breath. “So I feel like that’s something I ought to take care of.”

I folded my arms. “I’m perfectly able to cut grass.”

“I know you are.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

He looked toward the driveway before answering. “I wasn’t here.”

I asked what being home had to do with whether the grass needed cutting.

“You were out here by yourself. In a bikini top.”

I pointed at all the trees around us. “There’s nobody around.”

“That’s part of the problem.” Then he glanced at my green bikini top again.

I looked down at myself. “What?”

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But?”

He pressed his lips together for a second. “But you were outside by yourself in a bikini.”

“A bikini top.”

“You know what I mean.”

I told him people can have inappropriate thoughts whether I’m wearing a bikini top or a winter coat.

“I know,” he said. “I just don’t like the idea of somebody with bad intentions coming up that driveway and finding you back here alone.”

“I had pepper spray.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “I’m glad you had it. Still.”

Well, at that point, I didn’t know if we’d ever come to an agreement.

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I shifted my weight and looked toward the driveway. From where we stood, all I could see was the crushed limestone path disappearing around the trees and down the hill.

“So what are you saying?” I asked. “You need to stand outside and guard me every time I want to cut the yard?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly. “That’s not what I mean.”

“It sounds a little like what you mean.”

“I’m trying to figure out what I mean.”

I looked back at him. His eyebrows were pulled together, but there wasn’t any anger in his face. Mostly, he looked frustrated with himself.

That made me smile a little.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Emma.”

“You’re standing here trying to argue with me before you even know what your argument is.”

“I know.”

He gave me a helpless little smile, and some of the tightness left his shoulders. Then he walked over to the mower and rested one hand on the handle.

“My father always did the yard work when he was alive.,” he said. “Cut the grass, trimmed everything, fixed whatever needed fixing outside. I guess I always thought when I had a house, I’d do those things.”

I nodded and looked away.

The tall grass beyond the cut part of the yard moved in the breeze. Somewhere back in the woods, a bird kept making the same sharp call over and over.

“This is my house, too,” I said.

“I know.” He nodded and looked down again.

“And I like doing things around it.”

“I know that, too.”

I turned back toward him. “Then you have to let me.”

He looked down at the mower handle and moved his thumb across the black rubber grip. “I’m not trying to stop you from doing things.”

“You’re telling me you should’ve done it.”

“Because I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t need you to cut grass to take care of me.”

“I know.” He said it softly.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. Then he looked past me toward the driveway again.

“It really isn’t just the man’s work and woman’s work thing,” he said. “Maybe some of it is, if I’m being honest. But that’s not the part that has me worried.”

“What part does?”

“You being out here alone.”

I glanced around the yard. “Nobody lives anywhere close.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He stepped away from the mower and pointed toward the opening in the trees.

“Nobody can see this house from the road. Somebody could turn in, drive all the way up here, and find you standing in the yard in a bikini… top before anybody else even knew they came.”

“I would hear the car.”

“Maybe.” He looked again at the where the driveway dipped over the hill and down to the road.

“I’m not deaf. Noah. I could hear a car on the gravel."

“I didn’t say you were. You were mowing. The mower is loud.” His voice stayed gentle, but he looked more serious now.

I uncrossed my arms and let them fall to my sides.

“And the bikini?” I asked.

He hesitated.

“The bikini makes me more nervous.”

I tilted my head. “Why?”

“Because somebody might see you and get ideas.”

“That wouldn’t be my fault.”

“I know that, Emma.” He said it so quickly that I stopped.

He took a step closer, but he still left some space between us.

“I am not saying you caused anything,” he said. “I’m not saying you’re doing something wrong. You could mow the whole yard naked, and it still wouldn’t give anybody the right to bother you.”

“That would probably be dangerous for other reasons.”

His mouth twitched, but he didn’t laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

He pushed both hands into his pockets. “I’m saying there are bad people. And sometimes bad people notice something that makes them stop. Or makes them come closer. I don’t want somebody like that seeing you out here and realizing you’re alone.”

I looked toward the trees again. “I don’t want to live like somebody dangerous is hiding behind every one of them.”

“I don’t want you to, either.”

“This place is private. That’s one of the things I like about it.”

“I like it, too.” He paused. “Private can also mean nobody sees when something happens.”

I pressed my lips together.

He had a point. I didn’t especially like that he had one, but he did.

“I had pepper spray,” I reminded him.

He nodded. “And I’m glad.”

“I know how to use it.”

“I know.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I never said you were.” He looked directly at me and nodded. “I know you can take care of yourself… That doesn’t mean I stop worrying.”

I looked down and rubbed one bare foot over the top of the other. “I’m still going to cut the yard sometimes. You work a lot of twelves. It rains sometimes when you’re off. I just makes sense I do my part.”

He let out a slow breath through his nose. “I figured you were going to say that.”

“If you’re at work and I have time, I’m not leaving it half-grown just because you think you’re supposed to do it.”

“But could you at least wear a tank top or a T-shirt?”

I looked up at him.

He lifted both hands slightly. “I know. It’s not completely logical.”

“No, it isn’t.”

He looked down again and shrugged. “I’m trying here.”

I watched him for another second. His expression had softened, but there was still worry in his eyes.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll wear a tank top or a T-shirt.”

His shoulders dropped a little. “You don’t have to do that just because I said something.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t want to tell you what you can wear.”

“You aren’t.” I stepped closer and touched his arm. “I’m doing it because it seems important to you.”

He put his hand over mine and gave it a small squeeze. Then he looked toward the driveway again.

I followed his eyes.

“And if you’re really worried about someone just driving up our driveway, we can get a gate for the top of the hill,” I said.

He turned back to me. “A gate?”

“We can open it and close it as we go in and out. Nobody would try to drive through the woods.”

He looked toward the tree line like he was measuring the idea.

“And we could get a sensor,” I continued. “Something that makes a sound in the house when a car comes into the driveway. And we could put a speaker on the porch. Both porches for that matter.”

His whole expression changed.

“A driveway alarm.” He was thoughtful and nodding. “That would work.”

“And the gate.”

“Yes.” He nodded several times. “The gate, too.”

I smiled. “So now you’re happy?”

“I’ll be happier.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He finally laughed, shrugged a little, and nodded. Then he pulled his phone out and started looking up driveway gates and wireless sensors right there in the yard.

I leaned against his shoulder while he scrolled.

Some of the gates cost more than we expected. Some of the alarms had cameras, lights, sirens, and things that could send messages to our phones. Noah wanted all of it.

“We don’t need to turn the driveway into the entrance to a prison,” I told him.

“I’m just looking.”

“You’re looking at one with four cameras.”

“It has good reviews.”

We decided we would start with a simple gate and a driveway sensor. We could always add a camera later if we thought we needed one.

So I’ll still cut the yard when I have the chance and Noah’s got work. But, Noah won’t have to wonder whether some stranger has driven all the way to the house without me knowing.

I don’t think Noah ever really believed I couldn’t handle the mower.

He just loves me, and sometimes all the different ways he wants to protect me get tangled together before he can explain them. I can live with that.

And he can live with me cutting the grass—as long as I wear a shirt.

That’s all for today. Thanks for reading my story.

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