to
touch him, to make sure he was in fact, real. His firm grip was
very real as his bright green eyes bore into her own pale blue. It
felt like he was searching her soul. She couldn’t help but blush as
his touch lingered, not wanting to let go but she eventually
retracted from him, tearing her gaze away from his face.
“Well, I am glad that the two of you have
gotten the chance to meet. Supper is on the table, so we will eat
as soon as Jensen gets himself cleaned up. Holly, do you want to
help me in the house?” Holly nodded, grabbing her suitcase out of
the backseat of her little coupe and followed Aunt Sheryl up the
stairs of the porch and into the farm house. But not before she
looked back to see Jensen walking back to his office. The view was
the reason for her blush that time.
The inside of Aunt Sheryl’s home never changed.
The pale yellow of the entrance was framed by rich wooden accents.
Bears and deer, typical country décor. She hung her jacket and set
her suitcase at the foot of the staircase. School photos of Holly
and Jen were still hanging on the wall of the stairs as she
entered, the various stages of her acne and weight there for the
world to see. It was embarrassing, but endearing. She walked down
the hallway to the kitchen, a meal set for three on the kitchen
table. Most of the time, the foreman supped with the family and the
hands were on their own to make their own meal in the community
kitchen, so she wasn’t surprised that Jensen would be joining them.
One seat on the table set for 4 was left empty, a stark reminder
that Aunt Mary would not be joining them.
Aunt Sheryl smiled weakly at her from the
counter, a pitcher of her signature sweet tea in her hand as she
looked back at her niece. She looked tired. Worn. Holly walked up
to her aunt without hesitation, grabbed the tea, put it on the
counter and wrapped her up into a great big hug. Her aunt seemed to
sink into her embrace, relishing the physical contact. After a long
moment Holly backed away to see a stream of tears running down her
aunt’s face. Sheryl quickly wiped them away and then went back to
pouring sweet tea for the three of them.
“I miss her too,”
“I know, kiddo. We all do,” Sheryl brought two
cups to the table and then grabbed the third and drank from it,
“Come on, and tuck in. That hunk of a foreman is going to be here
any moment and you better at least be sitting so that you don’t
faint.”
“Aunt Sheryl?”
“What, you think I don’t have eyes? I might be
gay, but I at least know when someone of the opposite sex is
handsome. And I know when my niece is swooning.”
“No one says swooning, or hunk for that matter,
any more. You are showing your age.”
Sheryl went to protest but they hear the
familiar creak of the mudroom door and clammed up. Jensen walked
in, his shoes off and his hat gone. His jet black hair was combed
back, his soft curls gathering around his neck as he sat into what
must have been his chair, opposite Holly’s.
“It all looks good Miss Sheryl, you really do
outdo yourself every night,” Jensen complimented as he grabbed a
fried drumstick and sunk his teeth in.
Holly hesitated over the food. Fried chicken,
corn and mashed potatoes. Her favorite home cooking. Normally she
would not partake in such fare, but it smelled amazing.
“You better eat Miss Sheryl’s food, it is
better than any restaurant in a fifty mile radius,” Jensen claimed
between bites. No ridicule in his face, nothing but a genuine smile
that reached to his eyes, the small creases alluding that he was in
his early thirties.
“So, Miss Sheryl says you live in Indianapolis,
work for a financial firm. You work with numbers?” Jensen asked as
he grabbed a rolls, buttering it.
“Yes… er… not exactly. I currently work as an
administrative assistant. It is an entry level position. Hopefully,
in time, I will move into an area that includes financial
management.”
“You mean like proposing budgets,
touch him, to make sure he was in fact, real. His firm grip was
very real as his bright green eyes bore into her own pale blue. It
felt like he was searching her soul. She couldn’t help but blush as
his touch lingered, not wanting to let go but she eventually
retracted from him, tearing her gaze away from his face.
“Well, I am glad that the two of you have
gotten the chance to meet. Supper is on the table, so we will eat
as soon as Jensen gets himself cleaned up. Holly, do you want to
help me in the house?” Holly nodded, grabbing her suitcase out of
the backseat of her little coupe and followed Aunt Sheryl up the
stairs of the porch and into the farm house. But not before she
looked back to see Jensen walking back to his office. The view was
the reason for her blush that time.
The inside of Aunt Sheryl’s home never changed.
The pale yellow of the entrance was framed by rich wooden accents.
Bears and deer, typical country décor. She hung her jacket and set
her suitcase at the foot of the staircase. School photos of Holly
and Jen were still hanging on the wall of the stairs as she
entered, the various stages of her acne and weight there for the
world to see. It was embarrassing, but endearing. She walked down
the hallway to the kitchen, a meal set for three on the kitchen
table. Most of the time, the foreman supped with the family and the
hands were on their own to make their own meal in the community
kitchen, so she wasn’t surprised that Jensen would be joining them.
One seat on the table set for 4 was left empty, a stark reminder
that Aunt Mary would not be joining them.
Aunt Sheryl smiled weakly at her from the
counter, a pitcher of her signature sweet tea in her hand as she
looked back at her niece. She looked tired. Worn. Holly walked up
to her aunt without hesitation, grabbed the tea, put it on the
counter and wrapped her up into a great big hug. Her aunt seemed to
sink into her embrace, relishing the physical contact. After a long
moment Holly backed away to see a stream of tears running down her
aunt’s face. Sheryl quickly wiped them away and then went back to
pouring sweet tea for the three of them.
“I miss her too,”
“I know, kiddo. We all do,” Sheryl brought two
cups to the table and then grabbed the third and drank from it,
“Come on, and tuck in. That hunk of a foreman is going to be here
any moment and you better at least be sitting so that you don’t
faint.”
“Aunt Sheryl?”
“What, you think I don’t have eyes? I might be
gay, but I at least know when someone of the opposite sex is
handsome. And I know when my niece is swooning.”
“No one says swooning, or hunk for that matter,
any more. You are showing your age.”
Sheryl went to protest but they hear the
familiar creak of the mudroom door and clammed up. Jensen walked
in, his shoes off and his hat gone. His jet black hair was combed
back, his soft curls gathering around his neck as he sat into what
must have been his chair, opposite Holly’s.
“It all looks good Miss Sheryl, you really do
outdo yourself every night,” Jensen complimented as he grabbed a
fried drumstick and sunk his teeth in.
Holly hesitated over the food. Fried chicken,
corn and mashed potatoes. Her favorite home cooking. Normally she
would not partake in such fare, but it smelled amazing.
“You better eat Miss Sheryl’s food, it is
better than any restaurant in a fifty mile radius,” Jensen claimed
between bites. No ridicule in his face, nothing but a genuine smile
that reached to his eyes, the small creases alluding that he was in
his early thirties.
“So, Miss Sheryl says you live in Indianapolis,
work for a financial firm. You work with numbers?” Jensen asked as
he grabbed a rolls, buttering it.
“Yes… er… not exactly. I currently work as an
administrative assistant. It is an entry level position. Hopefully,
in time, I will move into an area that includes financial
management.”
“You mean like proposing budgets,
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