“No,” he repeated, keeping the secret.

“That’s hard to believe,” she said. “You’re a nice-looking man.”

Noah could feel a blush rising in his face. No one had ever complimented him on the way he looked.

“Boyd was my first and only real boyfriend,” she said quickly, recognizing the blush. “Unless you count Lester Crain, and that goes back to when we were five or six years old. He used to tell me he was going to marry me when we grew up. I think I believed him up to the age of sixteen.” She paused, smiled. “I still see him occasionally. He’s married, has two children and teaches school. He always tells me he’s still going to marry me when we grow up.”

She took a swallow of the coffee. “Maybe I should have made Lester keep his promise,” she added. “I probably would have finished school and maybe would be teaching now, like he is.” She glanced at Noah. “But we live with what’s given us, don’t we?”

“I guess so,” he replied.

She stood, picked up her cup of coffee and moved to the door leading to the porch and looked out at the lake. “I do like this place,” she said quietly. “I like looking out on the lake. I wouldn’t mind living here myself, if this was a house instead of a shack.”

“It’s a good place,” Noah said, standing.

“Needs some work on it, though,” she said, and she moved her foot over the sag in the flooring. “Boyd said one of the pillars had come apart. He was going to fix it, but never did.”

“I’ll be happy to take a look at it,” Noah said.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Won’t be any trouble,” he said. “I’ll do it when I come back from the store.”

“Not much reason to,” she told him. “Sooner or later, it’ll fall down anyway, unless Arch Wheeler’s son decides to move back here, and the way he talks, he won’t. He likes Texas.” She turned back to Noah. “I know I must be keeping you,” she said. “I’m sorry. That’s what happens when you’re around a jabbermouth.”

“It’s all right,” he said uncomfortably. He turned to look through the door. “Guess I better be going on. Sun’s out. The store ought to be dry enough by the time I get there.”

She smiled, said, “I liked the coffee.”

He could feel another blush on his face.

She stood at the screen door of the porch and watched him leave, going along the path to the edge of the woods, and then disappearing. His stride was strong, like a man wanting to be somewhere else. He did not look back.

I talked too much again, she thought. No wonder he wanted to get away so fast.

She turned and went back into the shack and stood for a moment, making decisions about what needed to be done. Not much, to be honest about it. She would broom-wash the floor and make up the cot to be more bedlike, and maybe pick up some wood for the stove. What needed doing would take only a short time, but it was time away from the routine of watching the old woman sitting with a mindless expression on her face, sitting so still it seemed she was hiding from death.