Page 19 of True North

The old man told me it needed fixin’.

This needs replacing.

Dammit.

Lucky for this old fence, I now have the perfect reason to spend hours with my hands busy. I kill the engine and grab the toolbox from behind the driver’s seat. Snipping the wire, I watch as the entire line sags even further when the last bit of tension goes.

Four hours later, my hands cramping from repetitive use of the wire cutters and pliers, I call it a day on the fence. With all new posts rammed into the soft earth and two new wires along the long stretch to hold it in place until tomorrow, I toss the tools back into the box alongside the leftover posts.

Sliding the toolbox back behind the seat, I push the seat back and climb in. I rest my head back on the low bench seat backrest and close my eyes. Balling my hands tight and flinging them open, I coax the blood back into my hands. As feeling returns to my fingertips, I turn the engine over. She rumbles to life.

The drive back is slow. I’m killing time.

I’m well aware that this is me being a coward. Or standoffish. One of the two.

I’m sure Ma will have words ready and waitin’ for me when I get back to the house. When I finally reach the barn, I jump out and haul the fencing gear out, in case Ma needs to go somewhere between now and when I make it back to that fence.

It’s only when I turn the truck for home that I catch a glimpse of a small yellow Datsun in the driveway.

Surely, Louisa isn’t still here?

I grind my jaw, weighing up my options.

I’m guessin’ she’s going to be around for a while, since she got a job at the diner. I should be polite. She is doing a nice thing for Ma.

I pull up by the house and turn the vehicle off, making myself climb out and up the stairs before I lose my nerve. Walking into the kitchen, something heavenly engulfs my senses. Louisa leans over a large pot. Ma is chopping beside her. Neither woman looks up. The old record player is on. The two women sway to an Elvis tune.

I can’t help the smile that stretches over my face.

For the briefest second, I let myself think this is my life. Coming back from ranchin’ work to these two.

My chest aches.

I punch the thought down and clear my throat.

“Oh hi!” Louisa says, looking up from the pot. The wooden spoon, still in her elegant hand, continues to stir like it’s second nature.

“I—” I say. Ma winks at me. “Hello, Louisa.”

I shove my hands in my back pockets, not knowing what to do with myself. Lord above, how am I nervous and angry at the same time?

“You want to try?” Louisa holds the spoon up from the pot. Steam billows up from a thick red sauce.

“I should—” I turn on my heel.

“Come here, my boy. Youhaveto taste this, we’ve been slavin’ over this here stove for two hours. Show Louisa the respect and hospitality you were raised to have.”

Heat flushes my neck. I drop my gaze to the floor. Ma may be a small lady and comes with a heart of gold for those she loves, but lord above, she gets the last word when I step out of line.

As I, apparently, am now.

“Yes, ma’am.” I look to Ma with an apology.

With a coy smile, she shakes her head. I walk to where Louisa stirs the pot again. “Let me have it.”

Her eyes light up as she pulls the spoon out of the pot. It drips, and she swipes it over the edge with quick precision. It’s heading for my mouth a heartbeat later. I lean in. Her scent mixes with the fragrant sauce and a stone grows in my throat. I choke on the last of the air in my lungs. The spoon meets my tongue.

I close my lips around the hot wooden spoon. Instantly, flavors spring to life in my mouth. She takes the spoon back, slowly. Her green eyes are on my face. Now her chest heaves like she’s the one who just had something hot shoved in her damn face.

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