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“Must’ve been somethin’ spilled on the floor, makin’ it slippery,” he remarked, looking back into the pantry before he shut it up. “I’ll see about fixin’ it for ya. But in the meantime, no need for those… some fresh stuff, straight from the farm,” he said, picking back up the bundles of carrots and potatoes he was carrying with him.
Her eyes lit up. There were few things she enjoyed more than fresh vegetables, and she walked over to them eagerly.
“There look real great,” she said with a broadening smile, her bruised ego fading into a memory already. “I haven’t had real food like this since Christmas.”
He grinned and chuckled, givin’ her a light pat on the shoulder and a squeeze before he turned away.
“I’ll go wash up and lend a hand,” he said. And true to his word, he was back in no time.
He wasn’t all dressed up or nothin’, but when he did come back it was with a button up short sleeved shirt, and his hair brushed back. He looked to be tryin’ at makin’ himself presentable, and he got up right beside her, elbow to elbow, helpin’ himself to peelin’ some potatoes.
She smiled at him, her heart pounding in her chest over such a simple task.
Over supper they were laughin’ and smilin’, like no time had passed at all, but a whole lot. She felt closer than ever to the big, enigmatic man.
As he pushed away his plate, scraped clean of every last trace of food, he smiled across the table at her.
“So you get a lotta troublesome customers over at the diner, or what? I bet there’s some real nuisances,” he said with a half-grin.
“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” she said with a tinge of pride. “Most folks know where the line is, and if they don’t, they’re shown the door. Only once was there ever a real problem and that was only ‘cause some outta-towner started a fight in the parkin’ lot.”
Damien laughed and rolled his eyes as he rested back in his chair, letting it tilt.
“Always some jackass out to make up for his shortcomings,” he remarked all too knowingly. “Hope he never caused you no distress at least,” he added, sounding genuine. “I know it must be rough for women folk workin’ around big brutes like that, who don’t know how to keep it in check.”
“We were all inside, thankfully. Jack, the chef there, he broke it up. Gave us somethin’ to talk about for a couple days at least,” she said with a wry little grin. “Not often somethin’ like that happens, not here.”
“That’s good,” he said, smiling warmly. “I know that even if you didn’t head off to the big city, must’ve been a real change to go from the farm to workin’ in town. Would hate to think of ya stressin’ needlessly. Because sweet, talented, hard workin’ and lovely as you are, it’s a real shame you don’t have a man around to wipe away yer fears and anxieties.”
“Yea, it was a change. Mostly, I mean, havin’ to be on my own. Gets quiet at night, you know? Even in th
e town with the cars and lights. Sometimes feels even more lonesome, since you’re surrounded by all these people that you don’t really know.” She licked her lower lip, shrugging a bit, “I mean, it’s nothin’ like the city and what you must’a felt though.”
Damien got a little darkly quiet there for a moment, and she worried that he’d clam up and talk no more. But instead he nodded slowly after a time and spoke up.
“Yeah. The city never shut up. People everywhere. Everythin’ over packed. But y’know?” he laughed dryly. “You learn a lesson there, that you can feel more alone in the middle of the crowd than you can in the middle of the prairie. It’s an alienatin’ feeling,” he said poignantly.
“It’s weird, isn’t it? I mean, how hard it is to just feel a connection with someone.” She didn’t know how to add on that she felt a connection with him.
“Pretty damn hard,” he said, taking a deep breath, before he got up and helped her take the dishes into the kitchen.
* * *
The next day she woke up and found he was already up and out. She saw him walkin’ across the field towards the workshop that old Mr. Drake used mainly in the winter.
She set about her usual business, and got to work on preparin’ something of a breakfast for the two of them.
When the meal was done, there was still no sight of him. So she went to the door, called out. Still nothin’.
“Where’s he off to?” she muttered to herself, and went back into the kitchen.
Making her way to the pantry again to fetch some sugar for their mornin’ coffee, she found herself accosted. A pair of arms shot out from the door to the dining room, one covered her eyes, the other wrapped about her waist.
“Got a surprise for ya,” came Damien’s gravelly voice, right in her ear.
She squeaked, but part of her knew it was him and not some random burglar. Though with his strong arms around her, it took her a second longer to register what he’d said.
“A surprise?” she whispered, truly shocked he’d ever think to do something for her. When they lived together he would barely make her a birthday card, let alone go out of his way to surprise her.
