Page 15 of Homestead

I’ve been paying close attention because her advice feels both helpful and practical. But at the last item, my eyes grow very wide.

She chuckles at my expression. “I don’t think Jimmy is the kind of man to get pushy in bed or out of it. I could be wrong, of course, so do remember you don’t have to let yourself get shoved around or bullied into doing what you don’t want to do. But I’m telling you—blow jobs are a really easy way to make your man happy.”

I giggle. I can’t help it. I’m embarrassed but also grateful for her encouragement.

I’ve never given a blow job before. I’ve never even kissed a man. But if Paula is right and it’s an easy way to make Jimmy happy, there’s no reason in the world I shouldn’t try.

3

The next day is Sunday,and Jimmy comes over early to take me to his place.

Greta doesn’t act either excited or disapproving about the new development. She takes it in the same efficient stride with which she deals with everything else in life. She collects some extra clothes and bedding and packs them up for us to take to Jimmy’s house. Then she draws me into the kitchen and packs up a basket with fresh bread, ham steaks, a block of cheese, and several jars of vegetables and fruits canned here on the farm.

“I have no idea what that boy has in his pantry,” she says, “but there’s no reason for you to scrounge around for food for today when you’re just settling in. I know he’ll have plenty of eggs, so you can have eggs for lunch and the ham with vegetables for dinner tonight.”

“Thank you,” I reply, genuinely grateful for the help. It’s a burden off me not to have to figure out how to feed Jimmy on the very first day. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I’m not trying to interfere,” she says with a wry look. “Honestly. So please don’t think I’m going to try to manage what happens over there. I’ve got enough to worry about right here.”

“I never thought that for a moment! I really do appreciate it. All this is new to me. I think I’ve learned a lot this past month, but I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of things I have no idea how to do.” I twist my hands together. “I hope you don’t mind if I occasionally ask you questions.”

Her smile widens. She clearly appreciates that I might come to her for advice. “I don’t mind at all. Anytime you need help, just head on over here and let me know.” She pauses, clearly hesitating before she adds, “Jimmy’s a good man. He had to grow up quick, but he’s always been warm and generous. After Impact and losing Mary, he’s withdrawn. He’s still there when anyone needs him, but he doesn’t… He doesn’t open himself up like he used to.”

I listen, eager for this insight into the man I’m moving in with and filing it away for future brooding.

“Impact changed everything,” Greta goes on, looking beyond me now into the empty air of the kitchen. “It took so much away. Maybe I’ll never get my sweet boy back.” Her expression changes back to her normal, practical smile. “At least now that he has a woman again, he might not always go around looking like such a raggedy bear.”

I laugh at that, as I’m supposed to. And I carry the full basket of food out of the kitchen and down the hall to where Jimmy is talking to his dad outside the front door.

He takes the basket from me and stows it away with the other stuff in the back of my grandpa’s ATV. It’s mine, after all, and there’s still more than half a tank of gas. We might as well use it to haul all this stuff over to his house.

“You ready?” Jimmy asks me after he closes the storage compartment at the back of the vehicle.

My stomach churns. Nerves and excitement both. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Me too.”

* * *

According to Jimmy, his place is about four miles from the Carlsons’ farm.

In the ATV, it doesn’t take long at all. We drive down the road along the row of small farms and houses. When we clear them, we go over a big hill. There are woods on the other side—not as vast and deep as Grandpa’s forest but definitely different from the cleared farmland.

The paved road shifts to gravel fairly quickly on entering the woods, and it’s not long until we turn off the road and take a short, curved driveway uphill toward a small cabin.

It’s got wood siding and a metal roof. There’s a small porch on the front, and as he’d mentioned, on one side there’s a covered walkway leading to what’s clearly an outhouse.

On that same side, the trees were cleared out to allow for a large garden. The animals must be around the back because I can’t see them. On the opposite side from the garden is a wide deck extending back toward the pond.

I take it all in as Jimmy puts the vehicle into park.

When I notice him peering at me, waiting for my reaction, I say, “It’s really nice. I like it.”

I’m telling the truth. The place feels closer to my grandfather’s cabin than any of the farmhouses. I like the shelter of the trees and the water rippling on the pond and the background sounds of wildlife in the forest.

His expression relaxes as he gets out and opens the storage compartment to start carrying in the stuff.

I help him, taking an armful in through the front door.

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