The Stable Boy Read Free

the porch step and watched him for a few minutes. He reminded me of John in so many ways. His walk, his confidence, and his ability to want to get this farm running were just like John at his age. I smiled. I got up and brushed off my backside. I went into the house and began preparing dinner. I made buttermilk fried chicken with mashed potatoes, biscuits, fresh corn on the cob, and homemade gravy. The chicken was frying, the biscuits were in the oven, and the potatoes were boiling when he was done. He knocked on the screen door.
    “Come on in, Joshua,” I said. He was covered in dirt. “If you want to wash up before dinner, there is a bathroom with a shower at the end of the hallway. It is the door on the left. I believe I have some men’s clothing still around. Let me get you something.”
    “Thank you, ma’am,” he said.
    “Please stop calling me ma’am. I asked you to call me Claire. I know it is your manners and I appreciate the great up bringing you have had, but if you are going to work for me and share meals with me, then we need to be on friendlier terms.”
    “Okay.”
    I went to the hall closet. He followed close behind. I could smell the dirt mixed in with his sweat. It was a smell I was all too familiar with. I missed it. I pulled out one of John’s old shirts and a pair of jeans. I never got rid of his stuff. I could not bring myself to do it.
    “There are towels in the closet in the bathroom. There should be soap and shampoo in the shower already.”
    “Thank you, again. I will be out in a few minutes.”
    “Okay, dinner should be done by the time you are out.”
    “Great,” he said.
    “What would you like to drink with your dinner?”
    “That sweet tea you offered early sounds mighty good.”
    “I will make sure there is a big glass waiting for you.”
    I handed him the clothes and squeezed past him in the tight hallway, rubbing his upper arm as I went. He turned to watch me walk back into the kitchen. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my back. He went to take a shower while I checked on dinner. I had to take a couple of deep breaths to keep from following him in the bathroom. This was going to be trouble. I could not have this taking place. I was going to have to tell him over dinner that I was not going to need his services. He came out of the shower just as I was putting dinner on the table.
    “This smells and looks delicious,” he said.
    “Thank you,” I said. “It is the one thing I have always been good at. I love to co ok, especially for someone who will enjoy it.”
    “I am sure this will be as good as it looks,” he said as he pulled out my chair for me.
    “Thank you,” I replied, sitting down.
    “You’re welcome.”
    We ate in silence. Staring at his blue eyes threw me for a loop. I did not want to let him leave, but I could not bare the thought of feeling like I was cheating on my deceased husband. He was the first to speak when he had finished eating.
    “It was just as delicious as it looked,” he said with one of the nicest smiles I had ever seen.
    “Thank you,” I replied, blushing. “I have homemade apple pie, if you have enough room for dessert.”
    “That sounds great,” he said.
    “A la mode or plain?” I asked.
    “A la mode,” he replied.
    “Do you want me to warm it up? I also have coffee or tea to go with it, or another glass of sweet tea.”
    “I will take it cold with a cup of coffee.”
    “Sounds good to me,” I said.
    “Can I ask you something?” he inquired.
    “Sure,” I said.
    “What happened to your husband?”
    I cringed at the question. It must have been a visible cringe.
    “I don’t mean to pry and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but you are so young to have lost your husband already.”
    “It’s okay,” I said with my back to him. I needed to wipe away the fresh tears that stung my eyes. “I knew you would get around to asking. He was a do it yourself kind of guy. The roof of the barn was