AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He didn’t understand why, when he had a cellar full of food, she had made so little. His gaze snagged on the numerous patches scattered on her sleeves. Obviously, Selina had come from poverty. Could that be why she had made so little breakfast? Because that was all she had been able to fix back home?
If that was the case, he didn’t know what to do or how to handle the situation with delicacy. How could he let her know that it was okay to fix plenty here without hurting her feelings or acting like some rich boy throwing his wealth around?
Michael sighed inwardly. He silently prayed and asked God for wisdom concerning this situation. No answer came immediately, so in the meantime, he made do. He piled half of the eggs, three small biscuits and two pieces of bacon on his plate, then he moved the plate in front of her.
“Somethin’ wrong with my cookin’?” She glanced at the center plate and then at his.
“I don’t know. I haven’t tried anything yet. But everything looks and smells real good. Why do you ask?”
“’Cause you only took half of what I fixed.”
“Didn’t you tell me you hadn’t eaten yet?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Well, that’s why I only took half.”
Her forehead wrinkled, and her brown eyes narrowed.
Michael had no idea why she appeared so confused. Women. Who could figure out what they were thinking? No man, that’s for sure.
He picked up his fork, scooped up a mound of eggs and shoved them into his mouth. Flavor, unlike any he had ever tasted before, burst through his mouth. “Umm. These are delicious, Selina. What did you do to them?” He spoke around the eggs, then gathered up another rounded forkful.
She smiled. “Fried them in butter and bacon fat. And added the tops of those things I found down yonder.” She pointed to the cellar. “They looked like the ramps back home, so I took a chance.”
“What’s a ramp?”
“An onion or a leek,” she said as she added one piece of bacon, one biscuit and a small spoonful of the scrambled eggs onto her plate. “Come springtime, you can find them all over the Appalachian Mountains.”
“I see. I’m sure it’s beautiful there.”
“Sure is.” Her face brightened. The woman was definitely easy on the eyes.
“Do you miss home?”
Selina shrugged. “Don’t know. Can’t rightly say. I ain’t been gone long enough to tell.” With only a few bites, Selina finished her meager portion, hoping Michael had gotten enough.
“Have some more.” Michael pushed the rest of the servings toward her.
“Thank you kindly, but I’m done,” she said even though her stomach was pinched with hunger pain and wasn’t near full enough. Then again, it never had been before. Now should be no different.
His eyes, soft and questioning, held hers as strong as a foot stuck in a mud hole. “Are you sure?”
Selina had made the decision, and she wasn’t backing out now. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
Michael’s attention stayed on her face a spell before he heaped the rest of the food onto his plate and devoured it within minutes. He looked over at the stove with something akin to longing in his eyes before he averted his attention onto his coffee cup.
“Somethin’ wrong?”
“Well, I was just wondering something. Before I took the rest of the food you said I only took half of what you’d made. Does that include biscuits, too?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure how many to make. I wanted to stretch the food so we’d have plenty to eat. I’m sorry iffen I didn’t make enough.” She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the patch on her pants leg. She’d wanted to be such a good wife, and already she felt the pain of his disappointment.
Michael’s finger rested under her chin, tugging it upward. “Selina, look at me.” With the gentlest touch, he raised her head, forcing her to look at him, even though she wanted to look everywhere but at him for fear he would see the love she had for him in her eyes.
“I’m a big eater. I want you to know that we have more than enough food. So you can make plenty all the time. And…”
She watched him swallow and draw a breath.
“I want you to eat more, too. What you ate this morning wouldn’t keep a baby chick alive.”
She pulled her eyes away from his intense stare. It hurt to be so close to him, to feel he might care and yet know he didn’t.
His finger dropped from her chin and rested in front her.
She wanted to snatch back his hand and cradle it against her cheek.
To hold it.
To feel its strength.
To enjoy the small pleasures a married woman like her ma had enjoyed.
