Harry on the Prairie

Chapter 31

                   

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I sincerely apologize for my pathetic update schedule. Over the past two months, I've had to put two of my adorable companions (a dog and a cat) to sleep due to old age/declining health. So, I've been sitting around crying and eating chocolate.  Yeah.

Enough about me, and onward with the Harry & Frankie saga. 

TWITTER: @styles_orama

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I believe in love
I believe in babies
I believe in mom and dad
And I believe in you.

               --Don Williams

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FRANKIE:

Harry's eyes widen briefly before his lids droop to a half-closed position. I bring my hands up to his wet curls and push them away from his handsome face, and I lean in, pressin' my lips to his. Once, twice, then he parts his lips to nibble mine, his tongue runs a smooth line along my bottom lip. Just when I expect his tongue to fill my mouth, he pulls away leavin' me wantin' so much more that I ache.

"Frankie?" Nervous, his breathing quickens, "Will you be my little woman?"

*****

HARRY:

One moment Frankie is rubbin' up against me, and the next she's leapt outta my lap like her ass is afire, pacin' to and fro, wipin' her hands in her apron like they're stained with somethin' that refuses to come off.

I clear my throat. "Frankie? Did you hear me, hon'?"

"Little woman?" She whispers. "Little woman? Do you know what you're even sayin', Harry?" She pauses a moment, but when I open my mouth to answer, she starts up again. "Obviously you don't, or you wouldn't be sayin' such things."

"What do you mean I wouldn't be saying such things? Why shouldn't I? Don't you wanna stay here with me, Frankie? Together? Like . . . a family?"

"No. Yes. I mean – Jesus, Harry. You can't just spring that on a girl outta the blue like that," Frankie continues walkin' circles around the kitchen table and bein' aggressive with her apron.

I rise to my feet to grab her on her next go-round. "Frankie, quit destroyin' your apron here and let's talk."  I catch her hand in mine, strokin' my thumb across the softness of her palm.

"Talk about what, Harry? See, you're already tryin' to boss me around about my damn apron. If I was your 'little woman,' you think you'd have control of me? Is that what you want?" Frankie struggles but I don't let go. This little spitfire might just run her ass out into the rainstorm or somethin' crazy. Almost makes me laugh, but I don't cause I know there'll be hell to pay if I do.

"What? No. No, that is not what I want. Why would I want that? Have I done anythin' to make you feel that way? Are you not happy here? With me?"

"You're supposed to love someone when you get married. And you can't possibly love me, Harry."

"What do you mean I can't love you? You can't tell me how to feel."

"Well? Do you Harry? Do you love me?" Frankie's eyes pool with tears, but she refuses to let them spill over. She is one willful girl.

I pull her up against me 'til we're lookin' eye to eye, so there'll be no mistakin' what I'm about to say. Whatever the hell that may be.

"Listen here, darlin'. I've never been in love before, so I can't rightly say for sure. Do I want to see you every day? Yes, I do. Do I want to protect you from anythin' bad ever happenin' to you? Yes, I do. Do I get jealous if I see any other man look your way? Damn straight. I like what we have going here, doin' little things for each other. I like when you surprise me by darnin' my socks, and I like to bring you a lil' bunch of wildflowers in from the field on occasion. I carved your name in the swing because I want you to stay here. With me. If all those things add up to love, then – yes, Frankie, I am in it. In deep. With you."

Frankie's breathless, like she's had the wind knocked outta her.  Her eyes dart back and forth lookin' deep into mine, searchin'.  For what, I don't know, but she don't say a damn thing.

"Oh." My face reddens at a rate so rapid I almost begin to sweat. "I see. It's not that I don't feel that way, it's that you don't." I let her hand fall from my hold. "That sure simplifies things."

"Harry – no. You don't understand. That's not what I mean." She reaches for me, her voice a hushed whisper.

I turn my back to her and walk to the door, grabbin' my coat off the peg and pullin' it on.

"Where are you goin', Harry?" Frankie rushes to my side as I button my coat and put on my hat.

"You know what I don't understand, Frankie? If you don't care for me, why'd you let me kiss you and such? I woulda let you stay here regardless. You let me touch you in places I thought were special. I thought we were special, Frankie." I know what I'm sayin' to her isn't right as I watch the color slowly drain from her face.

"What are you tryin' to say? You think I let you touch me in turn for room and board? How dare you say that to me, Harry Styles! I thought you of all people would see me differently, for how I really am. But you don't – you're just like all the rest. And that's exactly why I can't marry you, Harry. Regardless of how I feel!"

Tears are gushin' from her eyes and she's breathin' in short, quick pants. I want nothin' more than to go to her and hug her close, comfort her, kiss her . . . but my busted up ego prevents me from doin' so.

Instead, I grab my rifle. "I'm goin' out to shoot somethin'," I say, and I slam the door behind me.

*****

What kind of dumbass goes out huntin' in the rain?

I spend the majority of my time trudgin' 'round in the mud and beatin' myself up over what just transpired with Frankie.  Maybe I shouldn'tve said some of the things I did. Why do I have a naggin' sensation there's somethin' she's keepin' from me? I just wanna throw her onto the bed and fuck her into submission, but I know she ain't havin' none of that. Not yet, anyway. It's more than just hanky panky though. She knows how to deal with my quirks, doesn't pitch a fit about my farts, and don't even get me started on that peach pie of hers. And I just walked out, leavin' the tears in her beautiful green creek-water eyes crestin' their banks and ploppin' down onto the hardwoods.

I have got to make this shit right. I manage to shoot a couple good size rabbits, so I'll woo her with rabbit stew tonight. I'll be damned if I'm just gonna lie down and let Reverend Payne beat me at this game. What is it he wants anyway? That little Bible-beatin' fucker.

*****

I stop in the barn to skin the rabbits and care for the pelts properly so they can be used later. Once in the cabin, I change into dry clothes, callin' out to Frankie on my way to the kitchen. She don't answer, of course. She's probably still mad or sleepin' it off up in the loft.

It's when I'm settin' the table for supper and notice Duke stretched out by the fire that I start to fret. Why isn't Duke upstairs in bed with Frankie?

I almost bust my ass tryin' to get up the steps two at a time, callin' out for Frankie. When I reach the top, there's a folded piece of paper with my name handwritten on it lying in the middle of her neatly folded blankets.

She's gone.