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Isaiah clears his throat. “I don't have much, but I probably have about $8,000 that I could give the soup kitchen. It could keep it open for another couple of months. Maybe three?”
“Isaiah, I so appreciate it, but I'd never ask you for that. That's money you earned and money you need but thank you. It means a lot to me and I know it would mean a lot to Granny.”
Jody clears her throat, her hands wrapping around her coffee mug. “Don't worry about me and Layla. I could get a job at her school. They always need help there and maybe I could work in the lunchroom. I have experience with food,” she says with a smile as she looks around the kitchen. “But Maple, don't beat yourself up. Things happen. What you've been doing here and what your granny did here is something you should be proud of. So, let's end this month strong. Let's make the best soup we can and serve people in need. How about it?”
I nod, appreciating her enthusiasm and brave face as well as Isaiah’s generosity.
“I’m so lucky to have you two,” I tell them as they give me a hug.
“We're lucky to have you too, Boss,” Isaiah says.
Later, I head home, my feet aching and my hands raw from washing so many dishes. I put in an eight-hour shift and didn't leave until every last dish was clean. Now though, I come to the house on Jingle Bell Lane and see Filson working out front.
He’s scraping peeling paint off the front steps and everything about him makes my heart pound. He’s a real man, no doubt about it. His thick beard, the way his pants hug his butt, and the way he moves as if he knows exactly what he’s doing… all of it makes me want to drag him up to my bedroom and climb on top of him.
Instead, the closer I get to him, the more nervous I become.
“Wow,” I manage to say. “This looks amazing.”
He stands with a paint scraper in hand and turns to me. It's dusk and the sky is a watercolor painting of purples and blues and his pine green eyes seem to glow. I step toward him wanting something from him. Anything. Some indication that maybe this isn't over before it began.
“I wasn't sure if you'd come today,” I tell him.
He frowns. “I gave you my word, Maple, and it's not something I tend to break.”
“Of course, I didn’t mean you would…” I stumble over myself, hating the way I sound. Why can’t I just say, “I want you even if you don’t love me”?
Because that would be a lie. I want Filson Barre to love me unequivocally.
“It's fine,” he says, setting down his gear and wiping his hands on his work pants. “I’m about done for the day.”
My heart falls. There will be no round two tonight.
“You need to go inside using the back door, okay?” he tells me, cleaning up his supplies. “Otherwise you’ll drag peeled paint in the house.”
“Yeah, I figured.” My voice is clipped but I’m so emotionally drained. Still, I don’t want the day to end like this. “Did you want to come in? I could make you some dinner. I haven’t eaten myself.”
I bite my bottom lip wanting him to say, “Yes, of course, I'll come in. Yes, of course, I'll stay,” but instead he just gives me a sad smile.
“Sammy, she needs me home. I’ve gotta feed her. The old dog is my ball and chain. Right? Otherwise, I would, Maple.”
“Of course,” I say, feigning a lighthearted smile. Inside though, my heart feels more than cold. It feels empty.
And for the first time in my life, I wish it wasn’t the holidays. Because this year I have no Christmas cheer.FilsonAll day long, I tried to get the nerve to ask her out — properly. A shitty night of sleep, tossing and turning, told me all I needed to know — I needed to fight for this girl.
My girl.
We started all wrong. And now I am going to fix it.
But then she showed up at the house while I was working, looking like a goddamn angel and all my self-doubt rose to the surface. These demons need to be buried though, or I’ll lose my one and only.
So, in the morning, I take care of my morning wood in the shower, dreaming of Maple pressed against me. Imagining her perfect, round tits bouncing as I take her the way she deserves. I get off, and then I’m nice and ready for a long day of work.
Once on Jingle Bell Lane, I see her with several neighbors out on the street. I run a hand over my beard already knowing what they’re discussing. The upcoming festival this lane hosts each year.
