The Dried Dandelion

Chapter Three: Age Five

When I was five years old, I met my first love. His name was Jeremiah Stranton. The Stranton's lived on the edge of our property in a small house. It had patchy green splatters of paint mixed in with the matching ivy sprawling up the sides. I liked their house even though it was the size of my bathroom. There was a sense of comfort there.

Jeremiah was one of the seven Stranton children. He had the complexion of a deep tobacco leaf complemented by a pair of sharp green eyes. Also, he had the traditional Stranton mop of walnut hair. However, his looks aren't why I fell in love with him. Jeremiah Stranton became the prince I didn't know I was looking for.

On September 26th, 1995, I went for a walk throughout my family's property. I had never realized just how large it expanded before. Suddenly, as I weaved in and out between the towering oak trees, chasing the rays of the sun, my foot became caught on a thick root poking its head up through the soil. I lied there with my face pressed against the soil for what felt like hours. No tears came, but I couldn't find the strength to get up.

Not long after, a tune being whistled could be heard through the breeze. Someone was close by. "Hello?" I called out. In a flurry, a figure was crouching before me. The boy, only slightly older than myself, helped me to my feet.

"Are you okay, miss?" I nod. Jeremiah crouched down to be at eye level with my knee and blew on it gently.

He looked at me with a small smile on his face. "You haven't shed a single tear. You're such a good girl." Suddenly, I felt my chest swell with pride. That's right! Only strong people would be able to avoid crying when being injured. Plus, hearing his praise only puffed up my ego even further.

Jeremiah grabbed my hand and walked me toward his house because it was closer than returning to the main house. As we walked he swung our intertwined hands and sang a soft melody. "The glowing sun sleeps at dusk. A mother calls out to her kiddies. Come in, come in. It's no longer time to play. Na na na. Come in, come in. Tomorrow is around the corner. Oh, young ones. Na na na na. Come in..."

When we approached his house I realized it looked quite different than my own. His entire house was about the size of my dining room and he had to share it with eight other people. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

He guided me to the second of the three steps that led to the door. I plopped down and waited for him as he disappeared indoors. The steps are wide, but the bright white paint is peeling and splintering off into sharp pieces.

Jeremiah returns with a box of supplies under his arm. "Now, let's take a look at that knee of yours." He was only two years older than me, but he seemed so mature. Just by looking at him, you could see the wisdom in his eyes. I couldn't even imagine all of the knowledge swirling around in his head.

He leaned down and expertly poured some clear liquid onto a washcloth. I hiss upon having the cloth make contact with my open wound. "Sorry. It'll sting." He apologized. His tiny forehead began to crease. I didn't mean to make him feel bad, because it didn't actually hurt that much.

Thoroughly, Jeremiah finished cleaning out my wound and applied a wide bandage. "There you go. You should be all set." He offered me a smile at completing his work. I gave him a grimace in return as blood rushes to my cheeks. He had gazed at me with such soft tenderness that I have never received before.

"Think it will scar?" I asked, stupidly. As soon as it came out of my mouth I regretted it. It was something I didn't actually care about, but I just wanted to continue my conversation with him.

He laughed at me with his eyes crinkling in the corners. It was soft but still pleasant to the ears. It felt good to hear his laugh, it made my heart swell. "I think you'll be just fine, miss."

Suddenly, my smile faltered. Miss. I hate that word. Why can't I just be Lincoln, whenever someone uses that word they are no longer the same as me? I'm just a kid, I don't need to be anyone's miss. Madame Collins says that because I was born into my household that I deserve the title. Yet, I don't get why the Stranton's don't get titles when we live on the same land. That'll be the first thing to go when I'm in charge.

"My name is Lincoln," I said with my voice firm and unmoving. "You can call me just that."

Jeremiah cranked his head to the side. "I know, miss. I apologize if I spoke incorrectly Miss. Lincoln."

I scowled at him and blew air out through the left side of my mouth. He wasn't getting it. "No. My name is Lincoln. Not miss. Not even Miss. Lincoln. You should just call me by my name."

He put his hands up in the air and shook his head. "That would be improper. I'm not allowed to."

"Well, it offends me to hear you call me Miss. I'm allowing you to call me Lincoln. Actually, I command that you do so. If anyone has a problem with that, they can come to see me. I live right up there." I stated, with one hand resting on my tiny hips and the other hand point back behind me with my left thumb. My face was drawn in a smug expression.

He bowed his head down to me. "I understand. Miss--uh," He clears his throat and corrects himself. "Lincoln. Just Lincoln."

I smiled at him and released a giggle. Suddenly, his face no longer looked so serious and his stance had immediately relaxed. I hadn't even noticed how rigid he was earlier until he changed position.

"If you're able to walk, I will escort you back to the main house." I pretended to ponder the idea for a few seconds, before accepting his offer. This would give me the opportunity to spend more time with him.

Immediately, I had thrust out my hand for him to grab. "I'll need you to guide me. Also, you must remain close in case I were to fall due to my very serious injury." He hesitantly reached out and his fingers made contact with mine. In response, I quickly snatched his hand into mine.

His hand was a lot colder than I expected, but I didn't mind. I loved the way my heart would be running marathons as soon as we touched.

Together we walked along the paths against the ancient Oaks towering above us. He repeatedly stopped whenever I wanted to inspect a particularly interesting leaf or stump. Eventually, he turned to me and asked permission to carry me on his back. "We will never make it back to your house, before dark at this rate." I accepted for my own selfish reasons not thinking about how he still had to walk back to his place in the dark and all alone.

While his hand had been cold his back was quite warm. I pressed my head against his scrawny back and breathed in his sent. He smelled of sweat and the faint scent of lavender. If I listened carefully enough I thought I could hear his heartbeat drumming a steady thump, thump, thump. But that might have just been my own. I wished that I could stay like that forever and ever on his back. I didn't care that it was scrawny, because it was his back.

When we returned, Madame Collins was pacing on the large wraparound porch. As soon as she spotted us, she came running with her familiar expression of disapproval present on her face. Jeremiah quickly slid me off of his back, yet still in a gentle manner. "What is this? You should know better. Don't let this little encounter get back to the master." She threatened him. 

My eyes shook between her intense gaze and his apologetic one. I wanted to say something, but nothing would come out. "But.." I stammered, yet I couldn't find the words to finish it. An unusual gleam flooded his orbs. This was a new expression of his that I have never seen before. It was cold. The tension in the air was so thick that I felt like I was suffocating to death. At that moment, I declared to myself, I never wanted to see this look ever again. I wanted the boy who's green eyes crinkled with a smile stretching across his face.