Page 43 - Homestead By Ann Newhouse

young family, who she had helped to rear. Somehow, she avoided telling me the story of why they had settled here. I got the impression her husband had a manner that mirrored John Tirrell’s, no wonder they were best buddies (Mrs. O Neilson’s words).
I was given the job of painting and re-arranging her workspace and laundry. When I had finished, I was more than happy to go home and dress for my date with Sofie. Instead of Mrs. O’ Neilson paying me for the work, she would get Sofie to mark my card, as was the normal procedure. I hoped that will not be the only card she marks! I smiled at my own joke as I headed for my cabin. It was early evening and the sun was still very hot. I could feel the sweat on my body sizzling, or maybe it was the thought of what may come later. I heard the chime of a grandfather clock striking six times, as I neared the big house. I kept my head down as I passed. I didn’t want to be called in to see ‘the Master’, in case I was in for a scolding.
The aroma escaping from Sofie’s cabin was teasing my senses. I’m sure I’d be the envy of every man here, if they knew about the evening, I hoped, was ahead. I paused and took a deep breath before I pulled the cute iron doorbell, strangely shaped like a chicken. I almost expected it to go . . . cluck . . . cluck. No, it went ding . . . ding. I was slightly disappointed. I hoped this was not the way the evening was going to go. The bell was still ringing when Sofie appeared, at the now open door. She looked like a porcelain doll, her hair was arranged in soft curls, cascading down her back leaving a few tiny ringlets to frame her face. She wore an off the shoulder white cotton dress with a lace trim, just allowing her breasts to peep over . . . teasing me. . .I just wanted to kiss her there and then.
She playfully pulled me in by my shirt collar and kissed me on the lips. I staggered into the room almost leaving my shoes on the doorstep. “Sofie honey, someone will see, you’ll get a bad name,” I teased her. “Don’t worry, my father has gone on the provisions run and is staying over on business in the one and only Hotel in Truth. This was music to my ears, and judging by Sofie’s reaction, hers also. The meal lived up to my hopes and expectations, although I was so excited and nervous to be with Sofie, that my taste buds initially let me down.
Sofie cooked a Spanish dish. A family secret, she claimed, when I asked her to tell me the ingredients. It was a delicious chicken recipe with a creamy sauce. It was delicious. She said her mother always made it for special occasions. Later, we stretched out on a soft rug on the floor in front of the fire. We drank beer. We giggled about anything and everything, and Sofie loved reminiscing about her earliest memories. Now there was a cloud over her head, she explained. “My father is a very hard man and a little unkind. I know he wants to protect me and Josh, but I fear Josh will run away, as he is tired of being treated like a child. What’s worse is, my father seems to have no respect for us, yet he expects it in return. I’m beginning to resent it myself. He is very protective and