Page 16 of Homestead

It’s smaller than Grandpa’s cabin. There’s one open room with kitchen cabinets and a sink against one wall. A woodstove nearby is obviously both the heating source and the primary method of cooking. There’s a couch and an old leather chair on the other side of the room and a small table with two wood chairs for eating. He pulls up a panel to show me a small root cellar he dug out to keep food cool so it will last longer.

The house is very simple—no rugs, nothing on the walls, no extra cushions or throws or knickknacks to make it cozier. But it’s neat. He might have made an effort to clean it up.

I put the basket of food on the small kitchen countertop. “This looks great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like it.”

He’s looking around, not meeting my eyes. “I know you’re used to somethin’ nicer.”

We had power from a solar generator. Hot showers. A slow cooker and a toaster oven. A television that played DVDs.

And I had a grandpa who loved me.

I smile at Jimmy, making sure none of the grief at what I’ve lost reflects in any way on my face. “No. This will be great. I really do like it.”

“Okay. Good.” He clears his throat. “You can make any changes you want. If you want me to find anythin’ to make it nicer, I’ll be happy to do that for you. Want you to feel at home.”

I nod and smile again. My cheeks are aching slightly from so much sweet smiling lately. “I appreciate that.”

He rubs at his beard and finally sets the pile of bedding he carried in on the table. “Bedroom is in here.”

I follow him into a separate room. It’s small and neat but equally basic. There’s a queen-size bed with a plain gray cover on it. One side is pushed up against the wall, and it’s easy to see why. If it was pulled out to allow access to the opposite side, there wouldn’t be any room for the dresser or the basin and jug for washing up like they had in the guest room at the Carlsons’.

“That there was the old bathroom,” he says, pointing toward a connecting door. “Just a sink and toilet. Since we can’t use ’em anymore, I just use it for storage.”

“Okay. That makes sense.”

We step out of the room, and he leads me to another room about half the size of the bedroom. It’s got a few pieces of old furniture and a bunch of old moving boxes filled with sundry items.

“I can clear this out,” he says, “if you want a room of your own. Mom said she’d let me take that bed you’ve been sleeping on. Think it would fit in here. If you… If you’d prefer to have your own space.”

On this I’ve already made a decision. “I don’t really need my own space unless you’d like to keep your privacy. I don’t mind sleeping with you.”

He twitches slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. When I agreed to this, I meant all the way. Unless you want something different.” I’m pleased that I sound so calm and relaxed when I’m feeling nothing of the kind. My cheeks are hot, but that’s hopefully the only sign of my self-consciousness.

“I don’t want nothin’ different,” he mumbles.

“Okay.” I take a couple of slow breaths. “So you can leave this room as is unless we figure out something else to do with it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Now that we have that awkwardness figured out, seeing the rest of the place is easy by comparison. He takes me outside to his chicken coop and the small building and pen where he keeps his pigs.

I like the pigs. They’re funny and interesting and unexpectedly responsive, snorting at me like they’re trying to say hi. The chickens don’t have as much personality, but they’re fun to watch too. Jimmy shows me where he keeps their feed and lets me throw out a handful for them. They cluck excitedly and scurry around to gobble it up.

Then we walk out on the deck to look at the pond.

“I used to fish with Grandpa sometimes,” I tell him. “We didn’t have a pond like this, but there was a lake kind of nearby where we would go. I always liked it.”

“Did you? I can make you a rod if you want. You can use mine anytime until I get it done. Although it might be kind of big for a little thing like you.”

“I’m not that little.” I’m five four. While that’s obviously not tall by any estimation, I also have never considered myself particularly short. I’m also curvy. Not at all waiflike. I’ve got noticeable hips and breasts. I’ve always thought of myself as average size.

Not little.

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