by M. Mabie
“Hi,” she greeted, pulling a dish from the oven. The whole place smelled like chicken and cheese.
I’d thought it would be weird leaving her alone in my home, but it hadn't. Instead, it only felt more alive and more like mine when I returned. And that, coupled with seeing her, confused things in my head.
“What is that?” I asked and rounded the island for the refrigerator, not sure what I was looking for.
“Just a casserole.”
Just? It smelled better than just a casserole. “What’s in it?”
“Chicken, rice, cheese, broccoli, cornflakes.” She froze and dipped her head to catch my eye. “I should have asked. Do you like those things?”
I closed the door to the refrigeration, empty-handed. Cornflakes sounded strange, but it looked good. “I’m not that picky.”
My phone went off again. He wasn’t going to quit until I answered, so I did. “Just drop it, Chris. We’re not coming over Friday. It’s too soon, and that’s it.”
Myra busied herself with getting plates and silverware and went to the dining table to set it, while I listened to my friend.
“Okay, if it’s too soon that’s fine. It’s an open invitation though.” His tone was different, and I wanted to feel sorry for the way I reacted, but I didn’t. “I hope you know I didn’t mean anything by what I said, I was being dumb, man. Ashley mostly just wanted to welcome her to town. I swear, we’d never do anything to upset her or you. You know that.”
And I did, but it wasn’t a risk I was willing to take yet. They’d never been through life in Lancaster. They’ve never left everything and everyone they’d ever known. That was one thing Myra and I had in common, but our reasons had been very different.
Maybe that’s why I was having such a hard time with it. I’d left because I hated Lancaster and everything it stood for. She left because she thought she was fulfilling her duty as a woman of God.
Before long, I’d need to have a talk with her about the reality of what her hometown was.
“It’s fine. Some other time,” I relented. I didn’t want to shelter her, but at the same time, she’d only been here a few days. It was an adjustment for both of us, and they’d have questions I wasn’t sure I had answers to yet.
“We’re good?” he asked, and I caught Myra’s sidelong gaze as she brought dinner to the table. Clearly, she’d overheard. We were in the same room after all.
Thunder rumbled outside, and the wind picked up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She didn’t ask about the phone call or even mention it through dinner. I didn’t say much either, mostly because I was too busy shoveling her “just casserole” down my throat. I wasn’t about to take advantage of her cooking for me every day, but damn it was good to have a home cooked meal at the end of the day.
It still wasn’t raining, but it was getting green outside. “Do you mind if I turn on the news for a minute to catch the weather? Then I’ve got work to do.”
I helped her clean up, but there wasn’t much since it all came out of one pan. She folded the dish towel and answered, “I don’t mind. I couldn’t figure out how to use the television earlier. Can you show me how?”
I had satellite cable, something that wasn’t allowed in Lancaster, and I should have thought to show her how to turn everything on before. I walked to the coffee table and picked up the remote. “Press this one first, and then this.” The TV came to life.
She nodded, understanding.
There were storm warnings out and even a tornado watch for a few counties north of us. “Looks like it’s going to miss us, but we could use the rain.”
“It’s been a dry summer,” she said. I watched her talk and noticed how in just a few days she looked different to me. Maybe it was just because I was getting to know her, but she didn’t seem weak anymore at all. “Is there anything I can do to help you in the shop? I don’t mind.”
“No,” I answered quickly. I knew what I was going to do in there. What I’d done more than once the day before. “You should stay up here. You don’t need to go down there.”
“Okay,” she agreed quickly because of how I reacted, and sat on the couch facing the television, not looking at me anymore. I felt bad that she’d been alone all day, and I was leaving again, but I had to get caught up.
“I like working alone is all.”
As expected, she didn’t argue, and I handed her the remote.
“I’ll be back in a while, but I’ve got my phone if you need me. Watch whatever you want.”
The reporter started talking about a tragic story, and Myra covered her mouth, presumably never hearing anything like it. The world was a big place, and some of it was ugly. She would have to learn how to take the good with the bad.
Instantly, she was glued to the story and didn’t notice when I slipped out the kitchen door.
I made it into the shed before the rain came down, and the first thing I did was march to my corner and rid myself of the tension that had built all day to the sound of fat drops pelting the metal roof. It wasn’t something I was proud of, but it was better than doing it in the house where she might hear me. And I was certain I’d never make it through the night wound up like I was, especially if I was going to sleep beside her again.
And I was.
With that out of the way, I was able to focus and finish the dining room set and a pair of end tables that I’d worked on a few weeks back. I’d turned the radio up and got lost in my work. Time actually slipped by me because when I checked my phone again it was just before midnight and all the lights were off in the house.
It was still pouring, so I slipped into the bathroom and showered as quietly as I could and then climbed into bed. I thought she was asleep for how still she was, but after a few minutes passed she sighed. Like the night before, I thought it best to check in with her.
“Are you okay?” I asked, looking at the ceiling as lightning lit the room.
“Is everything on that news show you watch real?” She was worried, and for someone who’d been sheltered from current events and the real world her whole life, I bet a lot of it was shocking.
Hard truth. “Unfortunately, most of it is.”
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t think I like the news.”
I could relate. There was always something going wrong. People not getting along. Accidents and disasters. Reality could be brutal outside the Lancaster bubble, and I couldn’t hide it from her. It was part of being in society. Part of life.
“Do you have any questions about any of it? I’m sure you saw a lot of things that didn’t make sense.”
She rolled over, and her hair fell in front of her face, but when she sniffled, I realized she was actually crying.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said gently. I should have known better.
Her hand covered her face, and she said sobbing into it, “There’s so much suffering.”
My heart went out to her. I should have stayed to watch with her, I hadn’t realized how it would get to her. I’d forgotten how much it was to take in. Lancaster was evil, but it had a way of blocking other kinds of evil too.
And surely, she’d only seen a fraction of how cruel it really was on the outside. Surely, it was better than being trapped.
I wanted to comfort her, but I wasn’t sure what she’d learned or heard or saw. Still, she trembled and wept for strangers alone, not realizing that there were people out there who would cry if they know what she’d been through too.
There was a time for giving someone appropriate space. A place for keeping a respectable distance. But it was not that time or place there in my bed. In that moment, she was an upset woman who needed to be held. She needed to know I was there for her.
Without thinking much about boundaries or crossing a line, I slipped my arm under her and pulled her near. She tensed at first, unfamiliar with affection. Something I too was unfamiliar with, but it didn’t matter.
She needed me.
I could protect her from a lot of
things, but I couldn’t shelter her from the truth.
When she relaxed in the crook of my arm, I wrapped the other around her and held on tight. Slightly rocking as I ran my fingers through her wavy tresses. I’d been right, they were soft, and I was gentle with them. She had the weight of the world on her shoulders, and I couldn’t live with myself if I caused her more pain at that moment.
“It’s okay,” I said against the top of her head. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”
She clung to me until finally her breathing evened out and her sobs abated. Right or wrong, I didn’t let her go. All night I kept her close, tucked near. Selfishly, taking care of her made me feel good. The way her body aligned with mine. Hip to hip. Her hand on my chest. Her head beneath my chin.
It was a peace I’d never known.
39
Myra
My head hurt from all the crying I’d done the night before, but I forced myself to not think about it as I climbed out of bed. Out of his arms. Abe looked like such a bear of a man, but he wasn’t.
The night before, he’d been gentle and kind and made me feel safe in a world that I suspected wasn’t as safe as I’d thought.
We’d only had a few channels in Lancaster, and we had a news program that reported local happenings and big national stories, but I’d never watched such horrifying things on television before. At first, I’d considered that maybe they weren’t real. Maybe they were for entertainment, like campfire stories boys tell to scare one another. But when he confirmed that they weren’t made up, not even knowing specifically what I was talking about, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ever watch Abe’s news again.
My heart couldn’t take it, and other than praying, I didn’t think there was anything I could do to help any of them. How did people go on about their normal lives knowing all the ugliness that was happening at the same time?
I sat on the edge of the mattress and wiped the sleep from my eyes before I stood.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked with a rasp, and I turned to see him in the dim morning light. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I was embarrassed and still somewhat jolted. However, I was thankful that none of the wicked things had wandered into my dreams.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sat up and leaned forward, running his fingers through his hair, getting caught in a place or two. “It was bound to happen.”
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. The stories I’d watched or him touching me and holding me all night. Maybe both.
But still, I knew better than to have behaved that way. “Men can’t tolerate women’s overactive emotions.”
“Then they’re weak men.” He inched his way to the foot of the bed to sit beside me. “I didn’t mind.”
He was so unlike anyone I’d ever known, and I wanted to be more like him. Wanted to be someone he wanted to be around. Someone he’d enjoy spending time with. Someone he might care about.
“Well, thank you. Maybe I’ll just skip the news for a while though.”
His shoulder leaned into mine. “Fair enough.” He stood and stretched his big body, and I again felt blessed that I was there with him. “Think you’ll give coffee another second chance this morning?”
I thought back to what he’d said the day before about how it was a good way to start the day, and I had to admit I wanted a better start than yesterdays end. “I’ll try it again. Maybe with cream and sugar.”
His face was warm and friendly. “That’s my girl.”
My eyes met his, and he took a breath like he was about to say something else, but he didn’t.
My girl.
I liked that.
However, minutes later, I realized that I still didn’t like coffee, but his laughing at me spitting it out again was worth it. I’d try every day, because that sound did make it a good start. So it wasn’t a complete failure.
I DUG THROUGH MY TRUNKS that morning after Abe left for work but didn’t find what I wanted. I could have sworn I had a certain piece of fabric folded away at the bottom of one of them that I’d saved from something I’d made for one of my sisters-in-law, but it wasn’t there.
I did, however, find my little sewing kit and spent some time mending the cushions on Abe’s couch, and then I dusted and washed the bed linens. While poking around outside, I found a length of thin rope in the storage room under the deck and made a line across the back of the cabin’s porch that was strong enough to hang the sheets on.
As I ate a salad for lunch and played with Pinterest, I received a text from Abe.
ABE: I need to take the dining set in the shed to Needleman’s this afternoon. Would you like to come with me?
I enjoyed cooking, but he had a hang-up about it, among other things. Besides, there were plenty of leftovers from the night before, so I didn’t mind. Slowly, I typed a replied.
ME: Yes, if it isn’t any trouble. Can you please help me find a store that sells fabric, too?
ABE: Sure. That’s no problem. There’s a hobby store not far from them. See you at 4.
ME: Thank you, Abe.
ABE: You’re welcome.
I was so excited that the afternoon passed even slower than the one before, but I spent my time setting up my Singer in a corner on one of my trunks and hoped it wouldn’t be in the way.
THE FURNITURE STORE loved the new set Abe had made and suggested that he make a spare for them to have on hand. It wasn’t my place to eavesdrop, but it made me happy that his work was so appreciated. After they paid him for both the one we brought and the one they’d ordered for stock, Abe drove me down the road to a Hobby Lobby. I’d never been in one before, but if you like crafts, you could get lost in that place for hours.
No wonder Pinterest was so popular. People with stores like that close by were no doubt busy making things, and that included me. I bought yards and yards fabric and lots of extra spools of string. Abe told me to get whatever I wanted that I could use, but I still wouldn’t have gotten that much had they not had the whole department on clearance.
It was just like Christmas.
40
Abe
I’d never seen someone so excited about cloth. And although I couldn’t care less about it, seeing the joy on her face when the sales lady cut pieces for her made me appreciate it. Anything that kept her smiling and made sure that she’d have a better night than the one before was fine with me.
“Abe, can I ask you about something?” Myra dished re-warmed just casserole onto her plate as we ate at the island later that night. When I didn’t answer, but only gave her my attention, she continued. “Why don’t you want to go to your friends’ on Friday?”
I chewed as long as I could, buying time and thinking of the right answer. She patiently waited as she took another bite.
“Chris and Ashley didn’t grow up like we did. Chris’s family never went to church, and Ashely’s family wasn’t as strict as our parents were. We grew up conservatively with a lot of rules, and that makes us different.” It wasn’t an easy topic, and I didn’t want her to have two bad nights in a row. So even if it was the truth, it was a watered-down version.
“I see, but you do go over there sometimes?” She pushed a piece of broccoli around on her plate, she was also dancing around what she really wanted to say.
“Yeah, sometimes.”
“If you want to see your friends, please don’t say no because of me. I can stay here if you’d like to go alone.”
That’s how it must have sounded when I talked to him, which wasn’t true. However, I wasn’t going to tell her what he’d said or why I’d been angry with him. I didn’t want her feelings hurt, and Chris had apologized three more times that day.
“That’s not it. You’ve got a lot that you’re getting familiar with, dealing with a lot of changes. I think it’s best if we just wait a while.”
She said, “Okay,” seemingly appeased with the answer. Chris was crude—even if he knew better than to say anything about Myra n
ow. He often made dirty jokes and behaved like a teenager, but he was a good guy. It wasn’t just them not accepting her I was worried about.
I wanted her to like them too, and she still had a lot of adjusting to do.
But every day when I went to work, he’d mention it when I brought her up.
And every so often in the evening when I said something about either him or Ashley, she’d again tell me how she’d like to go.
But day by day, I was getting stingy with my free time with her. As she came out of her shell and got used to things being different, being normal, I realized my attraction to her wasn’t just from leftover Lancaster teachings warping my mind.
After the next week, she hemmed her skirts shorter and nearly quit wearing the dark stockings altogether. Explaining that it was hot, and the shorter length was more comfortable. Then she put some makeup in our cart at the store when we went grocery shopping, and although I didn’t think she needed it, I think it gave her a little extra confidence.
My evenings in the dark corner of the shed continued, but so did my work. And surprisingly, I was getting a lot done in the few hours I spent there at night.
We slept together, but not like we had the bad news night, which was what I called it in my head, and for the most part after that, I was exclusively checking the weather on my phone.
Myra, even though it drove me up the wall, was very tidy, but I never gave her grief about it. How she cleaned and cleaned and cleaned I’d never know, but she did it. We began taking turns cooking and washing up after dinner—and saying grace—and she began asking me more and more about culture and theology and how different things in the world worked.
