Widow Woman

First Kiss

In the morning he looked so sad she asked what's wrong. He told her about the night before. She softly said, "I'm sorry!" He stood up and was about to leave when he paused at the screen door to adjust his pants. She asked him to wait. He turned and she embraced him, just a quick hug, and again says, quietly,"I'm sorry." He was mesmerized. He went to tip his hat, but remembered he wasn't wearing it, and left.

After a quiet lunch---she left the room while he ate— supper was a special meal In fact, it was his favorite, although he had never told her–corned beef and cabbage.

In the morning, he came in to breakfast as usual. As he approaches the table, she set down his plate, already full of sausage, eggs and potatoes, and turned to him. She looked up into his face and without even thinking, he embraced her and kissed her on the lips, the way he always did his wife before breakfast.

She made no effort to resist, although she didn't return the kiss in any passionate way. Amazed at his own forwardness and ashamed of his boldness, he stepped back. She just smiles, curtsies and goes back to the stove. He apologized for his forwardness. She turns and smiles "Apology accepted although a kiss like that needs no apology!"

Confused, embarrassed, his face burning with shame, he turned and left without breakfast. All morning long his mind is alternately filled first with thoughts of lust and carnal activities with the woman who up until now has been his boss lady. Those thoughts then replaced with longing for his own dead wife and son and the shame at how evil a man he was to desert their memory so quickly and easily for a stranger.

Lunch came and he debated whether to go in or not, but his hunger, both for food and for her touch, were strong. The bell rang, and he gave in. He walked slowly to the porch, looked in through the screen door. It was too dark to tell if anyone was in there. He knocked self-consciously and waited. No answer. The smell of the meal was almost maddening. He shook his head, and walked in. The meal was on the table, one place setting She was nowhere to be seen.

He dove in, forgetting anything but the food for a while. When he was nearly done, the boss lady appeared from the room behind the kitchen, which he figured is her bedroom. The other half of the front of the house, he assumed was the parlor. He had not been invited in there.

He was still ashamed of himself and said so. She laughed–so musical!, he thought to himself. She said it was certainly no harm done "Its been a while since a strong, handsome man was so forward with me I might have liked it, did you think?"

Again he is confused, but it has been so long since he saw his wife. Since he had been with any woman. The emotional upheaval in him was almost uncontrollable as she walked toward him. Almost in a panic, he stood up quickly and his chair tipped over, clattering on the bare wood floor. He turned and stooped to pick it up but as he straightened up, she is there, in front of him again.

Her arms circle his waist and he can not resist. He held her, kissing her hard, holding her like he would his wife, holding her head in one hand, stroking her silky hair with the other. Tenderly, passionately, kissing her long and deep.

It seems an eternity before she gently pushes on his chest, and he lets her a little loose

"You have work to do this afternoon," she murmurs. "But come hungry to supper." She smiled, laughed and was suddenly gone again into her room, the curtain that blocked the view still waving at him. His body urged him to follow her in there, right then. But again, he shook himself, turned and almost ran to his work: pitching hay of the room.