Page 69 of Traces Of You

He didn’t think he’d want it any other way.

“I made sauce and meatballs,” she said. “Easy. The pasta is almost done.”

“I appreciate you cooking. Was there a reason for it?”

She shrugged.

A shy move.

Reenie hung her head again, as if embarrassed. Her eyes shifting around at what she needed to do in the kitchen.

“Does there have to be a reason? You normally call or stop to see me. The least I could do is give you some food tonight.”

“I’m starving too,” he said. “And am glad you are doing it. You mentioned you wanted to go to the outlets this weekend. Does tomorrow work since you’re off?”

“We can if you want,” she said.

She poured the spaghetti out of the water into a strainer and he went to the cabinet to get plates out.

She had the pasta with sauce on it in a bowl, meatballs on the side. He got silverware out while she put that on the table and filled her glass with water.

He got a glass and did the same, and they sat and ate.

“Can I tell you how nice it is to sit at a table with the food there rather than always making it on the stove?”

It seemed no one sat at a family dinner anymore.

“That’s how I eat when I’m by myself,” she said. “It’s how I’ve eaten most of my life. Just make a plate and sit down. But here, it’s more like family. Something I’ve always wanted to feel. I find myself just emulating everything I see.”

Ford smiled at her. “I’m always going to have family in my soul. I’ll never want to kick it out. I can’t.”

“You shouldn’t. No one should. Why would you with as great of a family as you’ve got?”

“I never thought of it one way or another.” He just always knew that his family would be there whenever he needed them, giving him what he asked.

Just like he’d do the same for them.

“I wish I didn’t have to think of those things.”

“You don’t here,” he said.

They sat to eat, both of them filling their plates.

“This sounds silly, but I feel an ease here. As if I belong.”

He reached his hand over and laid it on hers. “It’s not silly. It always felt as if you belonged. Not just here but with me.”

That slow smile of hers lit up the dim cabin.

“I miss this,” she said, her hand still under his. “I always wondered if I made it up in my mind to be more than it was.”

“No.” He squeezed her fingers. “You didn’t. I felt it too. I feel it too.”

He wouldn’t be afraid to admit this to her. One of them had to.

That for years his dreams were blown out to be more than what had existed.

A young boy falling in love with a girl he wanted to save.