Page 70 of Homestead

He frowns as he washes his hands. “You okay?”

I’m not sure what he saw in me that makes him ask. He’s barely even looking at me.

“Yeah. I’m fine. How’s the Boss this morning?”

One of our hens is loud and bossy and always trying to supervise the others. We’ve started calling her the Boss, and yesterday she was quiet and listless, which worried me a lot.

“She’s perked up. Gave the others a long lecture about getting too close.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’ll check on her a few times today to make sure she’s okay.” As I speak, I put Jimmy’s eggs and toast on the table in front of him and then sit down with my toast and water.

He frowns at me again. “That all you’re eatin’?”

“Yeah. I’m not hungry.”

He narrows his eyes like he doesn’t approve, but he doesn’t continue the topic.

After a few minutes, he’s nearly emptied his plate. He asks, “You workin’ on all that today?” He nods toward the basket of vegetables.

“Yes. I’m going to try to get as much canned as I can.”

“All right. Good. Be a shame to waste it all. Those tomatoes turned out real good this year.” He scrapes his fork on the plate, getting the last of his eggs.

The sound grates on me. I make an effort not to cringe. “I’ll do my best.”

He’s peering at me again, and it’s getting on my nerves. I get up to grab his empty plate and take it to the sink.

“You in a bad mood today?” he asks to my back.

“No,” I say in a crisp, overly controlled voice. “I’m not in a bad mood.”

“Seems like you’re in a bad mood.”

“I’m not.” I turn back around with a forced smile.

“Yikes.” He’s shaking his head as he stands up. “You know I hate that smile. What did I do to piss you off?”

I have to bite back a groan of frustration. He’s usually quiet in the mornings, focused on preparing for work and only discussing the particulars of the day. I don’t know why he’s decided that now’s the time for a long, annoying conversation about my mood. “You didn’t do anything. I’m sorry if I’m being crabby. I guess I’m kind of tired today.”

“Okay.” He’s frowning again but in his thoughtful, observant way rather than his bad-tempered way. He steps over so he’s closer to me. “You don’t gotta to do all that canning today. They’re not gonna go bad overnight.”

“I know. I’ve got it.” I try a smile again, and this time it must not come across so fake and frightening.

Jimmy’s mouth softens. “You gettin’ sick?”

“No. I’m really fine.”

“Okay.” He stares down at me, and for a minute I think he’s going to kiss me or something.

He doesn’t. He gives his head a little shake. “I better get workin’ while it’s still cool.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get to work too.”

He gives me one more quick glance over his shoulder before he walks out the back door.

* * *

The day doesn’t get better. I do eventually start feeling less queasy, but the canning doesn’t go well. At all.

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