Chapter Nineteen

“Thank you so much for helping us out,” Ester told Priscilla again. 

“You saved us.  This is the very least we can do,” Priscilla told her firmly.  She only wished she could do more.  Martin and Ester had saved their lives.  They fed them, gave them a place to sleep, and even washed their clothes.  Priscilla looked out the kitchen window and saw her dress blowing in the breeze.  She was glad to see it in one piece.  It was her favorite dress.  It was also her best dress but it was not a good dress for canning.  Bare feet and Ester’s borrowed blue cotton worked quite nicely. 

“It’s so nice to have young people in the house again,” Ester said.  “There isn’t anything quite like young love.”

Priscilla blushed.  Love?  She was not in love.  It was too soon.  But as she tightened yet another jar of canned fruit for Ester, she wondered, was it love?  Did love appear out of nowhere? 

“When you love someone all your saved up wishes start coming out,” (1) Ester continued and Priscilla blushed even harder.  Good heavens, she did feel like all her wishes were coming out.  She could not stop thinking about what she wanted to do with Jimmy once they got home.  Go on walks, go to the town dances, and yes, she was even looking forward to the family dinner.  Was she in love with Jimmy? Was it possible to love so quickly?  Her love for Kevin had snuck up on her. She did not know when it even happened, yet she knew she loved Kevin.  But she had known Kevin for what seemed like forever. Did the same thing happen with Jimmy?

Get a hold of yourself, Priscilla told herself sternly.  Wait, get to know him, stop listening to Ester. She has no idea you just met.

“I remember when Martin and I were like you two,” Ester smiled.  “Goodness, the noises you two made, why it positively inspired Martin.”  She hummed happily to herself, continuing to fill jars and pass them on to Priscilla while Priscilla turned an even brighter shade of scarlet. 

“I’m sorry,” Priscilla mumbled.

“Never be sorry about love, dear.”  She took a towel and mopped her brow.  “I am getting a mite wore out here.”  She motioned to the sandwiches she and Priscilla had made earlier.  “Martin should be back soon and he will be starving.  Why don’t you take these out to your young man?  He is in the back, getting rid of a tree for us.  That elm split right down the middle during that last storm and it just about fell on our house.”  She shook her head sadly.  “It was too much for us to chop it down.”  

“I’ll be back soon,” Priscilla promised.  “And we’ll finish up here.”  She picked up the food and carried it outside and as Ester had said, there was Jimmy swinging an axe.   The elm with the dangling limbs was now just a stump and Jimmy was chopping the rest of the tree into nice sized logs and had already stacked a good bit of wood next to the house.  

“Need a break?” Priscilla asked, setting the wrapped sandwiches on the stump.

“God, yes,” Jimmy exclaimed, dropping the axe on the ground.  “Let me go wash up first.” He wiped his forehead with his sleeve.  Priscilla followed him, sandwiches in hand, as he went through the barn straight to the trough in the back.  He splashed water on his hands and face. 

“Did you find someone to ride to the nearest Express station?” Priscilla asked. This was the best way to get word to Sweetwater, Jimmy had told her.  There was always someone riding through.

“Yeah, Martin told the neighbor boy to ask the sheriff to send someone to the nearest station.  Martin doesn’t know where the station is.”  Jimmy stripped of his shirt and splashed more water on himself.  “It’s hot enough to fry an egg out there,” he complained.  And then he dunked his whole head in the trough.

Priscilla watched his every move, unable to look anywhere else but at his body.  When Jimmy’s head popped out of the water, he turned, sensing her gaze.

“Eat,” she managed, waving a sandwich in the air, “you must be hungry.”

Jimmy moved close to her, putting his arms around her, guiding her back into the barn.  “I am,” he replied, “but not for sandwiches.”

As they tumbled onto the hay, Priscilla smiled, happy to be in his arms again.

“At least you like barns,” Jimmy teased.

Priscilla swatted him playfully.  “Don’t be rude.”

Jimmy sighed, but his eyes were teasing.  “Last night I got sweet talk.  Now I’m rude.”

Priscilla laughed.  He wanted sweet talk. She was sure she could manage something.  “I’m yours’ anytime you want me,” she told him, her voice breaking as she realized she truly meant the words.  She was his. 

Jimmy raised his head from her neck and looked at her. 

“I’m sorry.”  Her eyes began to fill with tears.  Sometimes she got too emotional.  When Jimmy wrapped her feet this morning, his hands so gentle, she had wept.  Jimmy had thought he was hurting her.  But it was not that.  It was the loving way he touched her then and touched her now. 

“I feel the same way,” he told her.  “A couple of days ago, I never even spoke to you and now if I didn’t talk to you, or kiss you . . .” He stopped speaking.  He simply rubbed her cheek softly with his thumb.  Slowly he lowered his head to hers; touching her lips with his while Priscilla ran her hands down his bare back. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Jimmy murmured, tugging at the buttons of her dress.

Priscilla wound her fingers in his wet hair.  “Just be quiet this time,” she told him, relieved to be able to speak without the lump in her throat.  “They heard us last night.”

“I’m sure they were shocked,” Jimmy said dryly.  He cursed.  “These buttons.”  He began pulling at the material harder.

“Stop, you’ll tear it.”  Priscilla sat up and began undoing the buttons herself.  But she stopped when she heard a loud crack and then a scream.