November sixteenth, 1933

I was really beginning to enjoy these little visits with Violet. Every few days as I passed by her family's ramshackle of a house, on my way to Mr. Link Deas's farm, she'd be sitting on the front porch, a book in her lap. She'd look up and give me one of those smiles that were so beautiful it would almost break your heart. She'd kindly invite me inside the fence, asking for my help with something just so we could talk without it looking suspicious to the other children- her father wasn't a worry because he was never around. After I'd finished the job she would always offer a nickel; I would politely decline, bid her farewell, and then finish up the walk to pick cotton or harvest nuts.

It was November sixteenth, a rather cool day, but I had to work nonetheless, and was passing by The Ewell's, hoping with every fiber of my being that Violet would be sitting on the worn rocking chair with her recent literary obsession: Romeo and Juliet. And there she was, beautiful and reading as per usual.

Her head was bent over her book, golden waves of hair falling around her face like a halo. I could imagine her face, contorted in concentration, her green eyes filled with passion and the occasional tear as she absorbed the sad tale of forbidden romance full of love and heartbreak.

I wondered if she noticed the irony between Romeo and Juliet and her and I, or if she didn't feel the same way at all. I couldn't possibly tell her that I loved her because it just wasn't ethical.

Her skin was white as snow and mine was dark as midnight.

Violet looked up from her reading suddenly and gave me her special smile. She shut her book and waved daintily because, after all, she was a lady- raised proper by her momma before she died.

I opened my mouth to say a greeting and she gave me the signal to hush. I shut my mouth, curious because this had never occurred before.

"God damn, Violet! Feed your sister! I don't have the time fo' all this nonsense!" Mr. Ewell yelled, obviously pissed. Then something broke, causing Violet to flinch, and the back door slammed shut.

"Yes sir," she called, a light blush creeping up on her cheeks. She was never one to blush all that much but I thought it was right darn cute.

After a few more moments, she finally turned to me, a sorrowful look on her face, and motioned me in. Her voice sounded weak as she invited me in and told me the door was off its hinges.

I opened the ratty fence, wondering what had her father so angry. It was none of my business so I wouldn't ask but I was pretty sure she'd tell me soon enough.

"Good mornin', Miss Violet," I said in greeting as I carefully walked up the steps that had a tendency to give out.

Her heartbreakingly beautiful smile appeared again. "Morning, Tom," she said and then walked over to the front door. "Well, yesterday it just... fell off," she said in explanation as she pushed the door out of the doorway.

I analyzed it and nodded. "Definitely off its hinges," I said in agreement. "Do ya have a screwdriver?" I inquired, knowing it was fixable.

She nodded. "So you can fix it?" she inquired hopefully, her green eyes shining.

"Believe I can, ma'am." I nodded, grinning back at her.

She smiled shyly then slipped in through the tiny space she made. "Thanks. I'll just get the screwdriver then I've got to feed Annabel," she informed me, her voice fading as she walked farther down the hallway.

I examined the door closer and realized that the nails that kept the door on its hinges weren't in place at all. I smirked, wondering if Violet had done this purposefully- and, if she had, was that to get me to stay or for some other reason. If it was the latter, what possible reason could there be.

"Here ya go," Violet said, appearing beside me again with the requested tool in her hand. She bit onto her lip as I took it from her, our hands brushing lightly and the familiar spark ignited, and she moved just slightly closer.

With her close, I got a better look at her face. It was the usual creamy white but a yellow bruise disrupted her cheek.

I was immediately worried. This wasn't the first time she had bruises on her face or arms but she would never tell me where they come from.

"Thanks again, Tom," she murmured then quickly turned and made her way back inside, alerted by a distressed cry.

I heard Violet shushing her baby sister Annabel as I got to work, having found the screws on the porch. I half listened to Violet, moving around the kitchen as she made something for Annabel to eat.

"You hungry, Annie?" Violet would coo compassionately. I knew she loved her younger siblings as if they were her own.

She got no reply because I'd learned, from listening to Annabel's interactions, that she hated the cooing voice but dealt with it.

"Why's that nigger here?" Annabel asked, childish curiosity tainted by adult's hurtful language.

"Hush now, Annabel Lilly Ewell," Violet commanded, meaning business. "He's helpin' me and his name's Tom. You will be respectful and never, ever say nigger again in this house. If you must, say Negro- and even that is hurtful," she ranted, always blowing up whenever someone called us by anything other than our own names.

I couldn't help the goofy smile that spread across my face as I listened to her defending me. I knew I loved her.

"But Daddy always says it! It ain't fair that we can't! And I ain't gonna call a damn nigger by his name," Annabel whined, throwing a small tantrum.

"Don't you dare go cussin', Annabel!" Violet's authoritative tone was showing. "Paw is a horrible influence on you poor kids and just because he goes around using foul language doesn't mean you get to." She huffed, gasping for a quick breath. "Goodness, you're only six, Annabel. Please don't go growin' up before your time," she pleaded, sounding very lost and scared.

Her tone alerted me and my protective instincts kicked up a notch. I focused on screwing in the nail so I wouldn't run in there and bring her into my arms.

"Now, eat," I barely heard Violet command then her footsteps echoed down the hallway. She paused somewhere close to where I was and I heard her taking in a few, rasping breaths.

Curious and worried, I leaned over to peek inside. "Somthin' the matter, Miss Violet?" I asked.

She was leaning against the wall, her head hanging down but snapped into a standing position when she heard me and flattened out her already smooth dress. "Everything's fine," she murmured and stepped outside.

She looked at me closely as I went back to work. "You heard her, didn't you?" she inquired knowingly and continued on before I could answer. "I'm sorry 'bout that, Tom. She's only six 'nd she shouldn't even know those words- but age doesn't matter 'nd I know they're hurtful 'nd- Gosh, I'm sorry," she rambled on, managing to daintily plop down onto the rocking chair and hold her head in her hands.

I smiled, looking at her from the corner of my eye. "It's really fine, ma'am," I assured her. "But thank you for thinkin' that way 'bout me." I crouched down so I could get to the bottom hinge.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her slide down onto the porch beside me. She curled her legs beneath her and played nervously with her dress so it spread out over her lap and covered her knees.

"Your gonna get your pretty dress dirty," I informed her, searching her slightly sorrowful face.

She shrugged. "I don't really care," she whispered and crawled a tiny bit closer to me.

We lapsed into silence. I was having a little bit of trouble concentrating with her so close. She smelled divine and the electricity filled the room between us, making it feel like we were connected.

Violet looked around us suddenly and quickly leaned in to peck my cheek. She pulled back and her cheeks were pink. "Sorry..." she whispered, not sounding all that sorry.

I smiled, feeling very warm where her lips brushed my skin. "No need for pologizin'," I whispered then stood up because I was finished. I tested out the door and it was working perfectly.

She looked crestfallen but quickly thanked me. "Must you leave now?" she asked as I turned to walk away.

I looked back at her and nodded solemnly. I lifted my hat from my head and nodded farewell. "I'll be walkin' by tomorrow," I offered.

She nodded and gave me another one of her heartbreaking smiles. "Thank you again, Tom," she said reverently taking a small step forward.

I replaced my hat. "The pleasure was all mine," I replied with the same reverence.

She gently grabbed my hand and flattened her own out in it, placing something on my palm. She curled my fingers around it, patted it, and disappeared inside the house.

I opened my hand and saw the nickel. I could imagine her saying, in her authoritative voice, "Just keep it, Tom," so I did.