“Lunch. I’m starved!” He went to the kitchen sink, washed his hands, then ducked his head under the faucet. He came up dripping, grinning, and asked for a towel. She hustled to get him one, as fast as her swollen ankle could go.

He toweled his face and hands, ran it over his hair, then sat at the table, towel still around his neck. Martha had never seen anything so beautiful before. His even white teeth flashed at her through his tan face, as big hands with large, healthy veins grabbed the pitcher and poured two glasses full of cold lemonade. She could only stare.

He wolfed three huge sandwiches, and washed it down with three glasses of lemonade, under her fascinated gaze.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

She’d forgotten! Her little plate of tuna was in front of her, untouched, her fork in hand. She blushed, hoping the powder would cover it up, and took a little bite. Her father never ate like that, did he? Maybe he did. She couldn’t remember. She didn’t think so. She’d never seen anybody eat like that.

He wiped his hands and mouth on the towel around his neck and sat back, leaning the chair on two legs. “That was great!”

She smiled back at him.

“I’ll work the rest of today and tomorrow on the chicken coop, then I’ll start on the porch roof.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Yep, I’ll paint the coop tomorrow when I’m done. Do you have any beer?”

Martha shook her head.

“Love a cold beer after work. Don’t worry, I’ll pick some up.” He stood, giving a mighty stretch, arms almost touching the ceiling, little hairs poking up above his cutoff jeans. “Well, back to work.” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for lunch.”

Then he was gone, and Martha heard him humming to himself, Skilsaw whining, hammering, and still she sat there, her tuna in front of her, wondering about the new feelings that were creeping up inside of her.

She picked over the garden and cooked the vegetables into a light stew. When she heard Leon throwing his tools into the bed of his truck, she poured more lemonade and sat at the table to wait, but then she heard the truck start, and it drove off in a cloud of dust. Her heart sank to her toes. She turned off the heat under the stew and lay down on the couch. Sadness pressed down on her chest; a tear trickled into her ear. The dimness grew; then she heard a truck turn up her drive.