Chapter Two
“Hey, kiddo. How's it going?” Her eighty plus year old neighbour, Sam Green, said ten minutes later as he leisurely rocked on one of her two white-painted wood rocking chairs set on her porch.
Jenna blinked at the sound of his voice, the unexpected warmth of it tugging her out of her fog.
She noted he wore his traditional red shirt and denim blue coveralls, and his wiry white hair was greased nicely to one side, covering up his bald spot in front.
He rose to his feet with a whole-hearted smile. She enjoyed the joyful crinkles that lined the edges of his eyes and his mouth, and she noticed the tension in her shoulders dissolve.
He rarely dropped by but every time he did, he would extend his hand for a handshake which he did now.
Despite his age, he had a firm grip, but this time she noted a slight tremor there.
And she could tell he’d lost some weight since the last time she’d seen him a couple of weeks ago.
She’d make it a point to get over to his place more often with some nutritious home-cooked meals.
She knew from her own experience that cooking for one wasn’t as exciting as cooking for more than one.
“Doing okay, Sam. How are you?”
Jenna’s gut twisted with concern and a cold prickle ran down her spine when he suddenly frowned and shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, that’s why I’m here. Need to ask you a favor and it’s a big one.”
Sam ran a hobby farm a few miles from Jenna in the next valley, and on occasion he looked after their place when both Tim and she were away, and Jenna and Tim would do the same for Sam when he would go away for a few days fishing or hunting with his buddies.
Lately he’d helped her sister, Ginny, tend to the horses, while Jenna had completed her job responsibilities in the city and was now taking a one year leave of absence from her position at Cowboys Online.
Jenna nodded to her door.
“I was just heading in for some coffee. Join me and we can talk about what you need.”
She knew he liked her coffee and her baked goods. Occasionally she visited his place and endured his coffee. It tasted like black tar, or whatever she supposed black tar might taste like and she always brought along some pie or cake or whatever she’d baked because she knew he had a sweet tooth.
“Sure, yeah, I would love some,” he muttered happily as he followed her into the ranch house.
The minute she entered her home she was greeted by the scent of percolating coffee.
She had her coffee maker set on a timer and the coffee started brewing at eight a.m. sharp.
That was when she usually returned from setting her horses free into the valley pasture and picking up the eggs in the chicken coop.
“Have a seat, Sam. I'll have coffee ready in just a minute. How about some day old apple fritters? I made some yesterday.”
Yesterday she’d had no morning sickness, and she’d had an irresistible craving for the delicacy, so she’d made up a batch.
“Oh yum! I haven't had homemade fritters in a long while,” he gleefully chuckled and rubbed his hands together with excitement. The way he rubbed his hands together made him look ten years younger, and the sight tugged a smile from her.
“You just sit. I’ll get everything together for us,” she told him, enjoying the eagerness splashing across his leathery, tanned face.
A few minutes later she sat across from Sam at her small table. The warm, inviting aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, and each of them cradled a steaming mug in their hands. He eyed the giant golden apple fritter she’d set on a plate in front of him.
She watched his faded blue eyes twinkle with such delight that once again happiness crackled through the gloom of grief encasing her heart.
“This is such a treat,” he said as he delicately lifted the fritter and took a big bite.
She smiled as she spied drool dribbling from the sides of his mouth as he chewed and groaned his appreciation, occasionally closing his eyes. For a moment, the kitchen felt full again. Not with people, but with the simple comfort of someone enjoying what she made.
She leisurely sipped her coffee, hoping her morning sickness wouldn’t kick in.
It had been pretty bad the last couple of weeks when she’d been here all alone.
She hadn’t told her sister, Ginny about her pregnancy when she’d been here, or Sam.
She hadn’t told anyone. Only her nurse practitioner knew.
Jenna figured she’d keep it a secret for as long as she could. She didn’t need everyone telling her to take it easy, especially when she had lots of work to do with the horses.
“How about another one?” she asked when he finished and began wiping his mouth with a napkin she supplied.
“Oh, I am so full. But thank you kindly. Maybe I can take one home with me?”
He looked at her with hopeful eyes and her heart pinched at the quiet plea in his expression.
“You can take the rest of them. I’ve got three more for you. It will give me an excuse to bake something else.”
“Oh, my. That would be awfully nice, Jenna. I have a friend coming to get me later today and I can offer him a treat. It's why I’m here.”
He was frowning again, and alarm bells went off inside her head. Her stomach dipped, the way it always did when bad news hovered on the edge of a conversation.
Sam was a hermit. It was rare that he got company. Even more rare that someone was coming to get him.
“What's up, Sam? Is everything okay?”
A sheepish gaze splashed across his face.
“I’m having um…cataract surgery, and I was hoping you could pop over to my place daily for a couple of weeks or so? You know the routine, and I can always trust you with my creatures.”
Relief washed through her so fast her knees went weak. It was followed immediately by a sharp stab of guilt for assuming the worst.
Oh, whew! Cataract surgery. Thank God, it was nothing too serious.
She reached across her table and placed her hand reassuringly over his, her fingers feeling his thin skin. She gently squeezed.
“Say no more. I will be happy to run your place. Don’t you worry about a thing, Sam. I’m here for you.”
She figured that would cheer him up, but he was still frowning.
“They said for me not to do any heavy lifting for a couple of weeks, so I won’t be back until then. I’ll be staying with friends.”
“I can handle everything, Sam. You go do what you need to do. Your eyes are very important. How about another cup of coffee?” she asked.
He shook his head.
He smiled and relief poured through her. He seemed okay with going off to have cataract surgery and she was glad he had a friend to come and get him.
“Wish I could. Still loads of work to do before my ride gets here. I'll take a rain check. I’ll leave contact info on my fridge for you, in case. Say hello to Ginny from me when she gets back.”
Jenna nodded. She didn’t tell him that her youngest sister Ginny wasn’t coming back. At least not that she knew of.
He stood and Jenna quickly gathered the remaining three apple fritters and placed them into a plastic container pressing on an airtight lid. She grabbed the container and followed him out to his old truck.
“You don't need to come out until tomorrow morning. I'm not leaving until later tonight and I’ll get all the animals settled. Thank you so much, Jenna. You and Tim have always been so reliable. And you especially are always such a wonderful person. I don't know what I would have done without you. Everyone else I know live so far away and can’t help and I’m not ready to give up my little farm.”
To her surprise, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her in a big snug bear hug.
Jenna froze for a heartbeat. Something uncomfortable fluttered in her chest. Sam wasn’t a hugger and this was the first time he’d ever hugged her. That uneasy idea that maybe something might be wrong nipped at her again.
When Sam let her go, he seemed back to his old gentle self which disintegrated her momentary uneasiness.
He hoisted his thin frame into his truck and rolled down the window.
“There's a severe weather warning for this area starting in three days. Saying high winds. So, be careful when you’re out on your trails with the horses. You don’t want trees falling on you while out riding.”
Jenna nodded, trying to ignore the tightness zipping through her gut at the weather news. Her fingers curled around her elbows, a reflex she’d never quite shaken when storms were mentioned.
Severe weather alerts here in Northern Ontario were common and they caused her anxiety, especially when she was alone. So she tried not to listen to the radio and ignored the alerts, although she knew that wasn’t wise. Besides, many times it wasn’t as bad as they predicted.
“Okay, thanks” she said, forcing a smile.
“Bye, Jenna,” he said with a wink. He turned his key in the ignition and the truck rumbled to life, spewing blue smoke out of the tail pipe.
“Bye, Sam,” she called out, trying hard not to inhale the acrid smell.
He stuck his arm out his window and waved as he pulled his truck around and drove out of her parking lot.
She watched his tarnished black truck rattle up the winding road to the top of the hill, the sunshine glinting off the areas of chrome which hadn’t rusted yet.
Then Sam and his old truck were swallowed up by the looming mist enshrouded forest. And everything went deathly quiet except for an occasional squawk of a crow erupting from somewhere in the pasture.
The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have, settling over her shoulders like a damp blanket.
She was all alone.
Again.
Well, not really alone.
Her palm warmed against the slight curve, real or imagined, and something inside her steadied.
She knew it might just be her imagination that she had a baby bump as the nurse practitioner had told her she’d start to feel something at around sixteen to twenty weeks, and she was at best estimates eleven weeks along now.