Page 66 of Homestead

“Yeah, he was. You just didn’t know him before, so you didn’t recognize it. He lucked out with you in a major way, and he’s been so happy since you moved in. Happier than I can remember seeing him.”

I shift in my chair, trying not to look too embarrassed. “Well, I’m glad it worked out for us. These practical arrangements probably have just as much a chance of flopping as succeeding.”

“Yeah. A lot of the ones I’ve seen haven’t even lasted a year. Life is too hard to rely only on attraction. There’s got to be more to it to make it work.”

“I guess so.”

Jimmy and I haven’t even been together seven months yet. We haven’t come close to a year. There’s no telling whether we’ll make it or not. But things have gone well so far, so I’m hopeful.

“Anyway,” Amelia says, pushing herself to her feet. “I guess I better get my stuff packed up if we want to make the walk to the Santiagos before dinner.”

“Yeah. I’ll pack up the bread.”

I’m excited now. Amelia and I will walk to the Santiagos’ farm. Jimmy will be there. We’ll have dinner, and then Jimmy and I will head back home while Amelia returns to her parents’.

The week is almost over. Jimmy will be home soon.

I can’t wait.

* * *

Amelia and I have a cheerful walk to the Santiagos’ farm. We keep our guns at the ready because there’s been more sightings of gang presence beyond the border, but we don’t encounter anyone other than a few passing deer.

When we reach the Santiagos’ farmhouse, I’m disappointed to discover that Jimmy is still working in the fields with the others.

It’s ridiculous. I’ve gone since Monday morning without seeing him, but I was ready to see him now—right now—and instead, I have to wait.

I spot him immediately, even from a distance. I recognize the lines of his big body, the length of his hair and beard, the confident, efficient way he moves.

They’re reaching the end of the final field, Maria Santiago tells me, so they shouldn’t be more than another thirty minutes.

That’s too long as far as I’m concerned.

I’ve done fine this week. Just fine. So it’s silly that I’ve become so impatient right at the very end. I’m honestly not even sure what I’m impatient for. Sure, it will be nice to have sex again. Because Jimmy and I still have sex nearly every night, my body has become accustomed to the release, so I’ve been restless and jittery without it. But it’s got to be more than that.

I miss being close to him—in bed and out of it. I guess I’ve been with him long enough now that his company feels natural. I love Amelia, but it’s just not the same.

Obviously, it would be unforgivably rude to pout because I can’t talk to Jimmy immediately, so I smile and make polite small talk with Maria and Amelia. She accepts my bread gratefully, explaining she’s been so busy keeping the extra workers fed this week she hasn’t gotten any baking or laundry done. Amelia and I help her get started on dinner, and soon we’ve got a stew in a big pot to simmer.

As we’re finishing up, the workers start coming back in from the field. We greet them after they’ve given themselves a cursory wash in a rain barrel—all of them are dirty and exhausted—but they’re clearly too tired for long conversation.

Jimmy is still working. I see him out there. Of course he’d be the very last one to stop working. Surely he knows I’m here waiting for him.

Finally, when everyone else has come in and the preparations for dinner are in full force, I go outside to see what he’s keeping him.

He’s still crouched in the dirt. Doingsomething. Instead of finishing up and coming to see me at last.

As I wait, I irrationally get more and more hurt and irritated. There’s not any good reason for it, but the feeling tightens into a knot in my gut. My best guess is that his slowness is confirmation that he’s not nearly as excited to see me as I am to see him.

He probably didn’t miss me at all.

And if he did, it was only the sex.

Jerk. He could at least pretend to care about me. I’m well aware that he’s not nearly as dependent on me as I am on him. That’s the result of the vast differences between us in terms of resources and physical strength. He’s made it clear that he likes having me around. I make his life better. In fact, ever since that emotional breakdown I had after being attacked two months ago, he seems to have made an extra effort to let me know that he appreciates everything I do for him.

He hasn’t done anything wrong, and I shouldn’t expect him to need me to always be around the way I need him. But still…

He could have at least pretended to miss me.

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