Flying Violets

Chapter 5

All Rights Reserved ® CarrieLahaye ™ 2014

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 We sat in a companionable silence for a long while before I asked “Jack, are you a farmer.”

 “No.” Jack said as he shook his head.  He didn’t elaborate any further.  I persisted by asking, “Are you visiting your sister?” 

 “My sister is dead.”  He silenced my questioning with a dour look.

 “I’m sorry.” I murmured.  “That is what I thought.”

 “Do you dance Violet?”  Jack suddenly asked.  “It’s been so long since I’ve danced with a pretty woman.”

 “I know how to dance.” I stammered.  He  went to a cabinet and opened it.  There was a brand new gramophone with a record on it.  He placed the pin on the record and Mamie Smith singing “Crazy Blues” played through the small parlor. Jack grabbed my hand and before I could protest he had me in his arms and began to lead me in a fox trot. 

“Jack, we shouldn’t be dancing.” I murmured embarrassed to be in a man’s arms wearing only his shirt and socks.  The blanket was around my shoulders, but was hanging off one arm as we danced.  “Why not Violet?”  he asked pulling me closer.  “Dancing is a perfectly respectable thing to do.” 

 “Not in what I am wearing.” I said with my face pressed into his shoulder.  He smiled and breathed into my ear.  “Are you a prude Fly Girl?” and with that he swung me out and back again. 

 It was wonderful being in Jack’s arms.  Never before had I danced with such a handsome man, and my Boston dance lessons were definitely paying off.  I let him hold me tight so that I could press my  face into his shoulder. 

“Violet you are a beautiful woman.  Are you even aware of that?”  Jack asked while tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.  “So feisty and arrogant.”  He teased. 

 “Arrogant” I questioned lifting one eyebrow.

 “Oh, very much so.”  Jack smiled.  What a transformation a smile was for his handsome face.  It warmed my very soul, and I felt like I had known Jack for years.  After a time when the record ended, he sighed and released me from his hold to  raise the pin on the gramophone.  The moment was broken and I became very embarrassed.  My cheeks were pink and I instantly went back to the chair before the fire.

 “Do you live here alone Jack?”  I asked with my back turned. 

 “Yes.  This was my sister’s farm and I’m living here wrapping up her affairs.”  He said as sadness gripped him.  He bitterly said, “She and her husband were killed by influenza.”

 “Oh, I’m so sorry Jack.”  I whispered. 

 “Where are you from Violet?  Because you don’t sound like a Southern gal.” 

 “Boston, originally.”  I sighed.  “Then I’ve lived in Newton these past six years.” 

 I then told Jack about my past and present from Boston to Newton.  What made me tell him my story I’m not  sure, but I just know that I wanted to be honest with him.  I sensed that we were both lonely and that he truly understood my reason to fly.  He was totally different from the gruff man that had met me at the door when I was trying to seek shelter from the rain.  I felt that he had observed me as a threat, but then realized I was truly in need of help.  I believed that Jack was hiding something, but not quite sure what.  Jack did not reciprocate by telling me his story.  There was obviously something he did not want to share with me.   I was fine with that because I knew about secrets, and not wanting to let them go.  

After gazing  at the fire my lids became very heavy, and I began to drift off to the sounds of the storm.  I forgot my worries and let myself feel at peace and secure within the presence of Jack.  I was surprised at myself for letting my guard down with him, especially by the way I had been greeted by him.  I must have slept for quite a while because it was dark when I awoke.  The storm was still fiercely blowing, and rain was puttering down on the tin roof of the farmhouse and against the glass in the windowpanes.  Instantly I thought of Jenny and I tensed.  I lifted my head, and realized I had been moved to the sofa that sat further back from the fire.  Someone had tucked a blanket securely around me, and placed a pillow under my head.  Jack, I thought.  I felt warmth spread through my body and I knew I was blushing at the thought of Jack moving me.  It had been so many years since someone had cared for me so. 

Looking around the room, I finally spotted him in a leather chair near the window.  He was sleeping and looked so vulnerable and younger than the fierce, irritated man that had greeted me at the door.  My eyes hungrily roved over him and I felt an instant attraction spear through me.  I had never felt so about any man before.  As I had told him my story, he had asked no questions but I saw compassion and understanding fill his eyes. 

 I longed to be in his embrace again, to have him comfort me and whisper against my hair.  I knew I had to be practical and suppress these new feelings that I was having for Jack.  I knew that I was leaving first thing in the morning to deliver the mail as fast as I could to Atlanta.  I would never see Jack again after tonight.  That thought was depressing, but it was reality.

 As if feeling my eyes upon him, Jack’s eyes popped open.  He seemed disoriented as his strong gaze settled upon me.  Then recognition dawned, and he gave me a warm smile.  “Violet” he said softly.  “you are a sight for sore eyes.”  Jack stretched out and yawned. 

 “Still storming I see.  I think we are stuck together for the night.”  He said as he stood up. “How about some dinner?” 

 “How can I help?  I asked rising  from the sofa. 

 “Can you peel potatoes?”

 “Sure.”  I responded.  “ But not much else.”

 Jack smiled. “No, I’m sure that isn’t true.” 

 “Betcha it is.”  I retorted.  “I simply hate to cook.  I live off of sandwiches.” 

 “Well your in luck tonight Baby because I am going to cook you some fried chicken and mash potatoes that you will never forget.” 

 “Sounds delicious.”  I smiled back.