Page 22 of Back in the Country
So attractive.
Movement to my left catches my attention, and I turn to see more than a dozen chickens wandering near a large coop.
“Do you remember my sweet little Henny Penny?” I ask with unmasked enthusiasm.
Waylon nods because I thinkeveryoneremembers Penny. She was this golden-colored hen that used to wander into our yard from Old Man Butler’s property, and I loved her with my whole seven-year-old heart.
One day I was sitting under the white oak tree between my house and Waylon’s—I’d had a tough day at school—and that sweet hen walked right up to me and climbed up into my lap. It was the strangest thing—like PennyknewI needed a friend.
“It was really nice of Old Man Butler to give her to me.” Way snorts, and I give him a puzzled look.
“Sorren and I paid him for the chicken,” he says with a grin and a slight blush to his cheeks.
“What?!” My expression must be comical because Way laughs, while I’m a solid mix of disbelief and outrage. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs.
Shrugs!
“She made you happy, and that was the only way he’d let you keep him.”
I harrumph. “Well, thanks for ruiningthatmemory.”
Waylon pulls me close and kisses me on the cheek. “I’m not sorry. It was worth it to see you smile.” The scent of wood and motor oil lingers on his clothes, and I hum in appreciation. It shouldn’t be sexy, but I’vealwaysassociated those two things with Waylon.
He smells delicious, and I wonder how invested he is in finishing this walk.
“How much did he make you pay for her?” I ask as if it suddenly matters.
Waylon scratches the scruff on his cheek with his fingertips, and I shiver because…first of all, stubble…and second, I’mwellacquainted with how talented those fingers are.
“Sorren and I gave him forty bucks to keep that smile on your pretty little face. It’s still the best money I’ve ever spent.” He smiles. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Swoon.
“Well, thank you, Waylon.” I sigh and look back over to where the chickens are still strutting and pecking at the ground. “I still miss her.”
He kisses the top of my head and smiles against my hair. “No thanks needed, Baby Girl.”
Looking around wistfully, I muse, “I think I’d like to get some chickens, build a coop like one of the fancy ones you see online, and make a big sign that says The Ladies.It’s something I could never have done in Nashville.”
“The Ladies, huh?” He bumps my shoulder with his and I smile.
“Yes, The Ladies.I’d give them fancy old names so that they feel sophisticated when I call them.”
The rumble of laughter that explodes from Waylon’s chest is pure amusement. A flicker of mischief dances in his eyes as he asks his next question.
“And what fancy, sophisticated names are you giving your chickens?”
I love seeing him playful like this, and I think he’s needed it. Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we can’t find joy in the little things.
Embracing the moment, I spin on my heels as I slam my hands onto my hips with a mock scowl.
“Waylon Jacob Thayer, are you making fun of me?”
“Baby, I wouldnever.” He’s trying to pull me into his chest but he’s still shaking with not-so-silent laughter.
“You’re a filthy liar.”
