by Alyse Zaftig
It began to snow. Five minutes away from the airport, I lost service.
What the hell? What kind of godforsaken place didn't have cell phone service? I twisted my phone, hoping that it would catch a signal.
"Cell phones don't really work here when it snows or rains heavily. The clouds are in the way."
I put away my phone and stared out the window. Everywhere I looked, there were empty fields. Cornfields, probably. I sighed. Just one week, then I could go back to my corn-free existence.
He turned on the radio, and I listened to country music fill the cabin of his truck. I listened to Carrie Underwood and Blake Shelton, but that was about it. Taylor Swift wasn't even considered country anymore.
The plaintive notes of the country music and my own nervousness made me drowsy. I fell asleep.
Barn
Amelia
When the truck stopped, I was instantly awake. I opened my eyes and sat up straight in my seat. I looked around me.
"We're here."
I didn't need his help to get down. I opened my door as he walked around the truck. I looked out with dismay. There were rusty old cars in the yard without tires that were mounted on concrete blocks. There were cobwebs on them.
It was an old wooden house. It looked like something out of a horror film. When the girl went there in her almost sheer white nightgown, you wanted to scream, "No, don't go in there! The ghosts are in there! You're going to die!"
I hugged myself. Just a week. Be brave. You can do this.
I'd never felt more scared in my life. It was worse than opening night of Alice in Wonderland, which was the only musical where I'd been the lead actress.
"Come on in. I'll show you your room."
I followed him into a house that looked like it should be condemned. Burned. Something.
The stairs creaked as we went up, and I fervently prayed that I would not fall through the rotting wooden boards. I did not like the way that the wood moved downward when I stepped on it.
He showed me into a tiny room. It had been pretty once, with periwinkle wallpaper sprinkled with white flowers. Now the wallpaper was faded so that you could barely see the periwinkle shade, and the flowers had turned slightly gray.
"Let me show you for where the bathroom is."
The next door was a very small bathroom. It had a tall sink and a shower that looked like it was a square foot.
"There's no room for my stuff in my bathroom."
"First, it's not your bathroom. It's ours." My eyes widened. "Second, there's already shampoo and soap in there." He pointed, and I looked at the metal shower caddy with a tiny thing of shampoo and soap, about the size that you would see in a hotel. "So you don't need to bring anything in there."
I blinked. "Have you never lived with a woman before?" For the first time, I looked at his face as a woman and not just a city girl disgusted by the dirt under his nails. He was good looking, for a yokel at least. He had bright blue eyes that practically looked like there was a light shining behind them. His thick blonde hair was cut close to his scalp, a no-nonsense haircut. I got the sense suddenly that in another time he would have been a general. His posture was like a military man's.
"No, I can't say that I have." He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Okay." Good thing that I wasn't on my period, or hiding my feminine products would be problematic. Not a problem for the next week, though. The period tracker on my iPhone said that I could expect Aunt Flo in about two and a half weeks.
He cleared his throat. "I'll let you settle in. Dinner will be in an hour. If your phone doesn't work, go ahead and use the landline to call whomever you need to contact. I don't mind, even if it's long distance."
That sounded pretty kind.
"Do you have wifi? I mean, I can iMessage over the Internet."
"Nope." My jaw practically hit the ground. I closed my mouth. "Who doesn't have the Internet? This is like the Stone Age."
He rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. Unrepentant, he crossed his arms, drawing my attention to his very nicely toned forearms. No, Mel! Don't look!
"I go to library. And it's a good thing that you did not come during the summer. There is no air conditioning here."
I squeezed my eyes shut. This was not happening. I was not in a house that had no Internet and no air conditioning. If I could not see him, then this would not be real.
"Okay, I'll come down in an hour."
Instead of unpacking, I sat on my new bed. It squeaked. God only knew what dinner would be. Fish fry, if I was lucky. That was the best case scenario.
I shook myself out of my haze of self pity, and I opened up my suitcases. There were 5 hangers in the closet. I doubled up a handful of my shirts and dresses. That would be enough for a week. And honestly, who was going to see me in the back end of nowhere? I could be naked, and the only person who would care would be Jimmy Fox. He'd probably be unperturbed and uncaring, even if we were supposed to be married. He didn’t show too many emotions on his face or in his voice.
He wasn't hideous. I might even say that he was hot. But he was someone who I'd never marry. I needed concrete and skyscrapers and a million people pushing past me on the metro. I couldn't live in the dead silence out here. Instead of people, there were a million trees. It was unnatural to see this much nature.
I shivered. Only a week, I reminded myself. You can do this. You can tell your dad that it didn't work out. Your trust fund will be safe.
As the day went on, the house felt warmer. The smell of something cooking filled the house. It reminded me of pizza.
After an hour passed, I went downstairs. I was salivating over the smell of the meat, and my stomach told me that breakfast was a very long time ago. I had only had a banana.
Jimmy was standing with his back to me. He was stirring things around in a frying pan.
"I hope you like stir-fry."
"I love stir-fry." That was probably the closest that I was going to get to Asian food out in Wisconsin. "Can I help set the table?"
"Sure. The dishes are in there. The forks and knives are in there." He pointed to some see-through, glass-front cabinets in his kitchen. "Just another minute, then I'll take this off the stove."
I got dishes and utensils out, and I put them on the dinner table. It was covered in a bright, cheerful sunshine pattern.
"This tablecloth is beautiful. Where did you get it? I'd like to buy something like this for my home."
"My mom made it. You'll have to ask her."
"Oh!" I blinked. "Okay." Even when my mom was alive, she was not very good at crafting.
He put stir-fry on a platter, then he carried it to the table. He opened up a rice cooker that I had not seen before, and he pulled out fluffy white rice into two small rice bowls. I didn't expect this in Wisconsin at all.
We sat down and ate. He had very good table manners for a yokel. We were quiet, and the food was really good. I could taste garlic, soy sauce, and a little bit of something tangy.
When I was done, I sat back. "That was so good. What did you put in the seasoning?"
"Lemongrass."
"What's that?"
"What it sounds like."
"Okay." I blinked. He wasn't that nice, but the food definitely tasted good. If it was like this for the rest of my stay, I would be able to stay here comfortably.
When he sat back, I gathered up the food. The platter was empty. We had eaten everything.
I scraped the plates into the garbage, then I quickly washed everything. I put them in the drying rack, then I washed off my hands.
"What do you do for fun around here, if you don't have the Internet or functioning phones?"
"Read books, I guess. I'll show you."
Library
Amelia
I followed him into a room that was filled with old, wooden bookshelves. It smelled like old books. It smelled fantastic.
"Wow, this is like the library in Beauty and the Beast." I spun around, looking at everything that he had.
"You have the equivalent of several libraries in here."
He shrugged. "There's nothing to do here but read. Take anything you want to read."
I looked around and picked up a book and nearly dropped it. "This is a first edition of Great Expectations."
"Yeah, my dad was really into old books."
“What an understatement. These are priceless. I'm afraid to touch them."
"Don't worry about it. It's not like anybody really comes in here. I mean, except during the winter, of course." He coughed. "We'll get some books and read them by the fireplace."
"Fireplace?" I gripped Great Expectations more tightly. "You have a fireplace?"
"Yeah. Come on. I'll show you our living room."
It was like something out of an old Norman Rockwell painting. I could practically see the fluffy cat sitting on someone's lap on the cozy, faded couch. There was a red, wooden rocking chair in the corner.
A fire roared and crackled in the front of the room. I could see that it was an echo of the family that once lived in this house. It was a huge fireplace from back when there was no central heating. There were blankets on the couch, and Jimmy handed me one.
"Here. Bundle up. You can take the couch. I'll take the armchair."
I wrapped a blanket around myself, and I lay on the couch. I read Great Expectations by firelight and the glow of the small lamps in the room. I liked the smell of the wood burning.
"This is so cozy."
"It's just what we do in the winter."
I felt the room settle around me like a big, warm blanket. Considering how cold it was outside, this little oasis of warmth was nice. I felt like a cat curling up contentedly in a patch of warm sunlight. In another life, maybe I could be the kind of person who lived here. Jimmy was a good man, and he might make a good father. We'd have little kids that we'd put in a play pen near the fire, but not too close. We could read out loud. Then I realized something.
"Where is your TV?"
"I don't have one."
I shook my head. It shouldn't surprise me at this point. A house with no Internet, no air conditioning, and no TV might as well be in the Stone Age. This was a different planet.
I read through Pip helping Magwitch escape, then my eyes drooped. When I yawned, I said, "I'm tired. I'm going to head upstairs."
"Okay. I'll see you in the morning."
I walked up the stairs. I felt hair prickle on the back of my neck. At the foot of the stairs, I turned around. He was still sitting in that armchair, looking at me back with naked hunger. He looked like he could eat me up. Our eyes met. I fled up the stairs.
Morning
Amelia
The next morning, I awoke to the smell of bacon wafting through the house. I got dressed quickly without putting on any makeup or brushing my teeth, and I went downstairs. I wanted to eat the bacon before it was all gone, and I was willing to risk a cavity or two in order to get it.
There was a plate next to the stove with a paper towel to catch all the grease. He was still frying the last of it. I tried to pick up a slice, but he maneuvered his body so that he was in the way.
"Wait for breakfast. You can set the table again, though, if you want."
I pouted, but he just smiled at me. It was hard to be mad at someone who cooked a delicious breakfast for me. I set the table, and I waited for my bacon.
I saw him crack a dozen eggs into the bacon grease.
"I can't eat that many eggs," I warned him.
"That's okay. I can."
I gulped, and I eyed his tall frame, the muscles moving under the sleeves of his shirt as he kept cooking the eggs. I guessed that he could.
He stirred it all together. I should be revolted by the idea of scrambled eggs stirred in bacon grease, but my stomach didn't care. It just wanted to eat something. "Are you ready yet?"
He open a cabinet to get a platter out again. He took the enormous quantity of eggs and put them on it.
"Yup."
He got out a serving spoon, and I served myself first. He took the rest of the eggs. He went back to the kitchen and brought me the plate of bacon. I took 5 slices of it. I bit into a crispy, fattening, salty slice. Bliss filled me.
"You're a good cook."
He laughed. "It's not a big deal. You're just easy to please."
I was the opposite of easy to please. I was the pickiest, most high maintenance girl that I knew. But somehow, here in the morning with this farmer boy, I felt like a different person. There was no one to impress here. It was just me and Jimmy. I didn't mind coming here. It was almost like a retreat from normal life. I would have told you even a few days ago that going to a house without any Internet or cell phone reception would be torture. Instead, it was a pleasant surprise. I had someone who cooked for me, and I washed up after. I could feel myself sinking into a rhythm after two meals, when we could work together as perfect partners.
No. I was only staying for six more nights.
"What are you doing today?"
"I'll probably be working outside. There's a lot to do in the barn. I will come in for a late lunch, around two or three. And you?"
That was a good question. One of my suitcases was filled with art supplies.
I looked at the quality of the morning light. "I think that I will paint."
"Sounds good."
I cleared the plates from the table. I went up to my room. I put on painting clothes. I set up my easel in the kitchen. I did not intend to make anything serious. However, there has to be some way to pass the time. I thought about the view out the window as my jet landed in Madison. It was beautiful, cold. It was unwelcoming. At the same time, there was the promise crops during the summer. It was a place where Demeter had turned her face away.
I started sketching it on my sketchpad. There was the curve her hips as she had her back to the desolate wintry wasteland. Behind her, corn was withered into the little stubble that I could see trying to poke through the cover of snow.
That was right, but there was something missing. I frowned at the sketch.
It was missing the sunlight. It was very bright in Wisconsin, especially with the reflection of the sunlight off of the snow. You had to be as afraid of snow burn as you would be sunburn if you lived in Los Angeles. I decided that the sun would be huge. It would be appropriate for how big the sun was here in Wisconsin.
I started drawing it on my canvas. I knew what I wanted. They were just the bones of what the finished product would be. When I was finished transferring my idea to the canvas, I was very pleased. It wouldn't be one of my best, but it would be something fresh and new.
I got out my paints, and I begin to mix colors that I wanted on my palette.
The morning flew by. When I heard the front door open, I looked at the clock. It said 2:30 PM.
I hastily turned my canvas around so that nobody could see it but me.
"Are you ready for lunch?"
"Yup, coming right now."
I walked into the kitchen, and his back was to me as he pull things out of the fridge. I admired how broad his shoulders were. He looked like a linebacker or maybe a quarterback. These corn-fed Midwestern boys had something to them.
"How does steak sound?"
"That sounds great."
I set the table, and I heard that delicious sizzling of the steak on the stove.
When he took the steak out of the pan, he added diced potatoes and onions. He sprinkled some black pepper and salt all over it. It smelled really great, and I took a good sniff of the scent.
He brought it to the table, and I attacked my food. I hadn't realize that I was hungry when I was painting, but my stomach felt as vast and empty as the Grand Canyon.
"What do you want to do this afternoon?"
"I need to go into town to buy some things for the cows. Do you want to come with me?"
Leave this house?
"Yeah."
"Okay. Let me get cleaned up, then we'll drive into Verona."
I looked down at my paint-sp
lattered clothes. "Give me a little time, too."
Both of us got ready, and then we met downstairs. He looked handsome with his hair slicked back, though he was still wearing dreadful flannel and overalls. I shouldn't be thinking about him like that. I had no desire to get tied down in Wisconsin, even if he and my dad really wanted me to. This house was not the kind of place I could ever see myself living.
"Let's go."
Farm and Fleet
Amelia
We walked out to his rusty truck, and this time I didn't need his push to get inside. I just jumped for it. It was a little different since I was so much shorter than him, but it worked out. It was nice to be in a truck. You could see so much more than you could in my sleek little Corvette, which I barely used. It wasn't worth the hassle of trying to find parking back home. In Wisconsin, open parking stretched for miles and miles around the house. It was open country, all covered by a coat of snow.
We went to a place called Farm and Fleet. Inside, it had more things than I even knew could be put under one roof.
It was gigantic, and the parking lot was gargantuan. The parking lot alone looked like the size of a small strip mall. There were tractors parked there. I followed him through the aisles. I could feel eyes on me. I looked nothing like them. I had dark skin, dark hair, and a multi-colored Prabal Gurung dress on. They had blonde hair, light eyes, and simple, mono-color clothing. There were more overalls than I had ever seen in one place in my entire life.
I was quiet. The eyes weren't hostile. They were just curious, like they didn't see people like me very often.
We checked out, and he asked me, "Do you want to see the real library?"
"Sounds good to me."
"You can use my library card."
"Awesome."
We drove for a little while on Verona Road and turned so that we went north a little bit. Tucked away on Silent Street was a small library. It was pretty. There was a big sign out front that said that it had won some kind of architectural award.
