Mama watched the boy from the kitchen window. She swore she could see the blue of his eyes though he was a hundred feet away. A tickle in her throat and a quick, involuntary uptake of breath made her sway on her feet. Just a hiccup. It happened every time she caught sight of him unexpectedly, like when he came around a corner quiet as a cat, or when she looked down and suddenly glanced up and there he was, wide blue eyes, solemn face, dimples showing, but not from smiling. He wasn't a smiling kind of boy. He was serious, a thinker. A contemplator. Always thinkin' up something, she said to herself, what I don't know. Which was true. He didn't confide much. Still, she felt she knew him.
The boy was wearing his daddy's old sheepskin coat. She'd tailored the sleeves best she could, but left the length as is, to keep him warm from head to toe. He looked just like a little western man, with the pointed toes of his cowboy boots poking out from under the coat hem. She made herself believe he was running to her. She would run out the door and catch him in her arms. He wasn't too big for her, nor her so fragile that she couldn't do it, grab him up and swing him in a circle, like they were dancing.
As he approached, she let the curtains fall and stepped aside so he wouldn't catch her watching him.
He passed the painted fence that separated the household from the other structures. The smell of bacon seduced him with the promise of salt and smoke. He hastily used the handpump beside the short porch to wash his hands.
Mama was waiting for him in the kitchen. He held his hands out for inspection and she nodded. She had already set a place for him at the table, even poured hot tea in a cereal bowl, topping it off with cream and heaping teaspoons of sugar.
He bent over the plate, inhaling the intense aromas. She'd piled three fried eggs on a thick slice of toast, the yolks barely cooked, as he liked them. He wanted to dip his tongue into the yellow pools.
"John Twist, even a boy hungry as you has time to count his blessings," Mama said.
He tented his hands on the table and bent his forehead to his fingertips. Then, he peeked at her, deep blue eyes holding her gaze. She felt the tickle in her throat, the almost insignificant flutter in her solar plexus, her insides shifting. He offered his hand and she took it, sat down next to him. They prayed together.
"Don't cry, Mama," the boy said, when he looked up.
"I'm not crying", she said.
"Don't you want to eat?"
"I had some coffee. It'll do for now. I won't mind keeping you company, though."
He glanced toward the open archway leading to the front parlor room.
When he looked back, his mama was smiling at him, the tears all dry. He nodded his head and sawed his egg with a fork.
"What were you all in a hurry about, Jack?" she asked him. "You looked like you were trying to…that you were thinking about something. Thinking really hard. What were you thinking about?"
"I was saying my multiplications to myself, so I don't fall behind." He was sorry he said it, though it was a great lie. Still, it was a relief to say it outloud.
Sure enough, she sucked her lips into her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, disappearing herself. Then her face popped back out and she affected a cheerful demeanor, apologizing for not doing tables with him as often as they should. It was just so hard, the three of them and not a penny to spare for help on the ranch. She didn't mention that half the time his daddy didn't know what the blazes he was doing. It was sinful to talk bad to a child about his father. She felt troubled for even letting the thought cross her mind.
While the boy finished his eggs and bacon, she pulled a folded sheet of notebook paper from her apron pocket, smoothing it flat on the table.
"Well, let's see where we are with the chores," she said.
She looked at it for a bit, moving her lips as she read the list to herself.
"It says here that you are to help me in the garden after breakfast."
The boy's eyes widened, the fork stopped halfway between the plate and his mouth. She rubbed a corner of his mouth as if there were yolk there, then gently stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.
"And then I'm to help you with the rest of your chores."
end, chapter 3