Page 30 of Chasing Fireflies

“Thank you, Cash. I’m so sick of these damn flies. I killed two, but that third one wasn’t giving in.”

“Glad I was here. You would have broken your face.”

“Possibly,” she says, quickly pressing her lips to mine. “You smell like outside.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Another one?” She smiles as I put her down.

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s see it then.” She puts the bug killer down, and I take her hand and walk out onto the porch. “We need to replace that screen door. There’s a hole in it. That’s how the bugs are getting in.”

“I’ll get on that.”

“Also, upstairs I noticed a light was out in the bathroom… Oh, Cash.” She puts her free hand over her mouth and looks from her new garden to me. “Baby, what did you do?” She lets go of my hand, and her long skirt drags the ground. I watch her face as it lights up with wonder. She turns to me. “You did all of this today?”

“Yes.” I slide my hands into my pockets and bite my lip.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so pretty.” I watch her––the light in her eyes, the sun shining through her soft curls, the golden tan she has from lying out with Leigh. Her lips are in a permanent smile.

“I have,” I tell her. She looks over my face and shakes her head.

“You amaze me.”

“I never want to stop doing that.”

“So don’t,” she says, and I walk closer to her. I take her face in my hands and kiss her lips.

“I won’t,” I say before I lay her down and show her just how amazing she can be.

*

“Baby, remind me to call in my meds tomorrow,” Sara yells to me from downstairs.

“Will do,” I call back as I remove the baked chicken from the oven. Like Mark, I’m the cook around here. Sara can burn a waffle in the toaster. She walks downstairs and grins.

“This looks so good. Can I help with anything?”

“Yeah, grab some plates, two beers, and follow me.” I hear her footsteps when I push the door open, and I set the food down on the outdoor table. Lights are hung above us, and the old record player I bought plays Johnny Cash and June Carter’s “Jackson”.

“I love this song,” Sara says after she places the plates down. She dances and laughs. I cut some chicken and place it onto our plates.

“It’s a good one.”

“June loved John like I love you.” She takes her seat and puts her feet on my lap.

“John loved June like I love you,” I tell her.

We eat in silence, just enjoying the light breeze and clear night sky. She sighs as she pushes her plate away.

“That was so good, baby.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Now, you’ll have to clean the dishes.” I smile.

“Gladly,” she says, picking up the plates and walking into the house. I watch her before I grab the other dishes and follow. Elvis plays now, and she turns around and blows soap bubbles my way as his rough voice sings about hound dogs. She laughs when some bubbles get on my nose and I shake my head.

“Stop,” I tell her as she blows more.

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