“You can have my bed tonight, Mr. Lloyd,” Aunt Becka said. “I’ll go up yonder and sleep with Carrie.”

“Oh, no ma’am,” Rondal said quickly. “I aint aiming to put nobody outen their bed. I’ll just sleep in the barn.”

“You’ll do no such thing. We dont treat company that a way.”

“But I love sleeping in barns. I love to smell the hay. I’m just like an old hobo, ma’am. I’ll be right at home there.”

“Nonsense.”

Flora looked from me to Rondal. “Let him sleep in the barn,” she said suddenly. Aunt Becka looked startled. “He should sleep where he’s most comfortable,” Flora said firmly. “Let’s not fuss over it. Now kiss everybody goodnight, younguns, and wash your faces.”

I said my goodbyes and Rondal asked if I would show him the barn. When we were up the road a ways, he said, “You reckon I could take a bath up at your house? I aint had one in a while. Hit sure would be relaxing.”

I didn’t answer and he walked on beside me. We didn’t speak until we reached the house.

“You fetch the water from the well,” I said. “I’ll start a fire in the stove.”

After the water boiled, I went out onto the front porch and sat on the steps. I heard him splash around, heard the cascade of water as he stood up to dry himself. Then he came outside with only his overalls on, rubbed the towel over his wet hair, sat down beside me.

“Dont I smell sweet as a rose now?”

I felt faint with the smell of him. I looked away. “You’ll stink like a barnyard in the morning.”

“Ifn I sleep in the barn,” he said.

I turned on him. “You think you can just walk in here after all these years and—” The words died in my throat, strangled. He put his arms around me, kissed me lightly on the mouth.

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“Eight year,” I whispered. “Eight year.”

He kissed me again, unbuttoned the front of my dress. I put my hand on his.

“Rondal, somebody might come up here and find us.”

“They wont. Your sister Florrie knows what’s going on.”

I knew it was true. I leaned my head on his shoulder and kissed the soft skin of his neck, even before I had decided whether I should. We took a long time with our lovemaking, two old friends getting reacquainted after many years apart. It was good to be a woman with him, instead of the frightened young girl of so long ago. I loved him hard, and knew I could bear whatever might come afterward.

We clung to one another in the featherbed.

“How was it?” he whispered.

“Hit just aint the same without the cast on your leg.”

He laughed.