AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Lay you down and softly whisper
pretty love words in your ear

Lay you down and tell you all the
things a woman loves to hear

I'll let you know how much it means
just havin' you around

Oh darlin', how I'd love to lay you down.

-Conway Twitty

I betcha Harry'd like to get a whiff of Frankie's peach. Ya think?

*****

HARRY:

"You're making my favorite pie." I grin at her.

She smiles, "I just wanted to show I appreciate you letting me stay here, and making me a bed, and everything else...you know? Just wanted to do something nice." There's that blush in her cheeks.

I could just stand here and look at her all day and long into the night, but I better not push my luck.

"Thank you, Frankie. You don't have to do extra for me. But from the way it's smellin', I'm mighty glad you did."

*****

FRANKIE:

The sun streaming through the little loft window wakes me from a peaceful sleep. Judging by the sounds coming from downstairs, Harry is already up and at 'em.

I jump outta my bed and make it up real quick while I eavesdrop on Harry's downstairs activities. I hear some pans clattering and he's singing. I want to giggle, but hold it in cause I don't want him to stop. He don't sound half bad.

I dress for the day, re-braid and pin my hair, and wash up. Normally back home we'd have baths on Sundays, but I don't know what he does around this place,

I'll need to ask about that later.

Last night was real nice. Harry hammered the last nails into the loft steps just after sunset, which was perfect timing cause I'd finished sewing my changing curtain as well as mending Harry's socks and britches. Those things need a good wash. Pee-yew!

After the work was done, we ate the ham and beans I'd been slow-cooking for supper with some cornbread, and the peach pie for dessert. Harry was so polite. He said "please" and "thank you," and he gave me so many compliments on my pie that I know I had to be blushin'.

Then when it was time for bed, he walked up and down the loft steps twice stomping on 'em real good to make sure they were solid before he'd let me go anywhere near 'em. Something about him makes me feel safe and protected, but at the same time I kinda feel like my stomach's all a-flutter and I don't know what's going on with some of the crazy things runnin' through my mind lately. I probably should have gone to church yesterday. I will definitely go next week since I should be all settled in by then.

When it came time for bed and we each retired to our rooms, it was soothing to hear Harry rustling around down below getting changed and his bed creaking when he sat on it. We stayed up a bit talking, calling out to one another like younguns. He sure knows a lot of corny jokes. Some were funny, but others were plum rotten!

By the time I come down the steps, Harry is placing breakfast on the table.

"I take it the new bed slept pretty good?" Harry greets me with a lopsided grin.

"You're just a bucket of sunshine this morning. Surprising, since I overslept and stuck you with all the chores." I smile.

Harry shakes his head with a laugh, his curls falling this way and that. "What do a few chores matter when a man's got leftover peach pie for breakfast?"

"Pie for breakfast! Harry..." I take a look at the plates and sure enough, there's peach pie, a couple fried eggs, and a couple strips of bacon.

"What's that look for? There's still enough left for dessert tonight," Harry reasons. "I woke up in the middle of the night and thought about that mouth-watering pie being just around the corner, and it took everything I had to stay put in my bed and not go chasing after it." Harry winks, and I begin to think he might be talking about something other than pie.

"Harry, where might a person go to take a bath around this place?" There. I asked.

Harry's eyes go wide, "Uh, well - since it's usually just me out here, I bathe in the creek, or sometimes further out toward the mountain in the lake."

I don't even know what to say, so I sit quiet and hope he offers a better solution.

"You did see the creek, right?" Harry grins, "You can see it out the window there just yonder." He points and snickers, sticking his tongue out.

"You're crazy, what if someone comes by and sees you?"

"Then they'll get an eyeful," Harry winks. "I'm sayin', don't look out that window around 6 o'clock this evening, cause that's usually when I'm out there nekkid as a jaybird swimmin' and scrubbin' off the muck."

I just shake my head, "Your poor neighbors."

"Nah. The only person that ever comes around this way is that Horan fellow that lives on the mountain. That boy can put away the whiskey. And sometimes when he does, he starts dancing this crazy Irish jig!"

"Mrs. Tomlinson talked like you were a loner up here and didn't like to be around anybody."

Harry's grin fades, "She's right. Niall's the only person around I'd consider a friend cause he don't ever try to get in my business like people from town. You'll see when we go to the mercantile today."

"What do they do, Harry?"

"They just all come outta the woodwork to get a look at me and gossip about a bunch of old stuff that they don't know a darned thing about." Harry looks frustrated, and there's a sadness in his green eyes that tugs at my heart.

I look at his plate, "Come on, hon' - ya got one more bite of pie." I pick up his fork and scoop up the last bit of pie and he grins as I hold it up to his mouth.

He opens and I feed him the last bite, then I wipe his mouth with my napkin.

*****

It's about a twenty minute wagon ride to Cider Creek. Harry points out a few things, but overall there's not much to see. There's the mercantile, church (where the kids have their schooling during the week), doctor, mill, feed and seed, and blacksmith. This is way smaller than my hometown of Hunter's Glen, which has a bank and even a sheriff.

I notice two young men playing checkers on the porch of the mercantile as Harry pulls the wagon to a stop in front of the store. The store looks clean and well-kept, but I can feel eyes on me everywhere. Not just the two men sitting out front, either. I have a sneaking suspicion people are peeping out at me, and it's confirmed when I turn in time to notice the curtain fall back into place in the window of the doctor's office.

Harry and I make swift business of getting up the steps so we can escape inside the mercantile. Harry doesn't even pause as he tips his hat out of courtesy to acknowledge the two men on the porch.

Their whispers are drowned out by the ringing of the store bell as Harry opens the door to the mercantile. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see there aren't any other customers.

Harry goes over to look at some hardware, while I need to get some thread, and a couple of grocery items.

We're only in there a moment when the storekeeper bustles out from the stock room. He's a middle aged fellow, kind of pudgy, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

"Mr. Styles!" He greets Harry genuinely, "How's your day?"

"I definitely can't complain," Harry replies with a hint of a smile. It's like he wants to smile at the man, yet still wants to keep up his outsider reputation.

The man looks to me and then back to Harry, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, oh!" Harry realizes he's obliged to introduce us, "Frankie, this here is Mr. James Corden. He and his wife Julia run the store here."

"Frankie!" Mr. Corden extends his hand to shake mine with vigor, "Welcome to Cider Creek."

I like him right away. I smile and return his greeting, "My name's Frances Tomlinson, from Hunter's Glen. Everyone just calls me Frankie."

Mr. Corden counts out nails for Harry, and while I'm choosing my spools of thread I hear Harry asking for flour and sugar.

Just as we're wrapping up our business, I hear the door open and the bell rings announcing new customers.

"Good morning, Mr. Styles." I hear a feminine voice followed by giggles. Oh, Lord.

When I turn around, I see two young schoolgirls. I'd wager them to be about fifteen years old. I don't know what they were doing in the mercantile when they should be in school on a Monday morning.

Harry turns and tips his hat out of politeness, but he doesn't say anything at all.

Mr. Corden says, "Aren't you girls supposed to be in school?"

"It's recess. Miss Smith ran out of chalk again so she sent us to get some," one of the girls informed him, while she helped herself to a peppermint stick candy out of a jar on the counter.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Corden." I thank him as Harry and I head toward the door.

The girl with the peppermint stick steps right into our path and blocks our exit. Her eyes are cold as they take me in from head to toe, and she earns a cold eye from me in return.

"Excuse us," Harry nods to her, placing his hand in the small of my back.

At this point, any normal person would have moved to the side. Instead, she takes a step toward Harry as she takes a lick of her peppermint candy. I am appalled.

"Is this here your girlfriend, Mr. Styles?" She asks him. I feel my temperature rising, and I can't tell if I'm about to faint or engage in some very unladylike behavior. "Because she looks a little old for you, don't she?"

I feel my hands clench into fists at my sides.

"Listen here -," Harry begins to speak, when suddenly Mr. Corden is there with his hand on her shoulder, steering her out of our way.

"Girls, you know recess is about over. Come along now."

Mr. Corden gives us a supportive nod and Harry jumps at the distraction, opening the door quicker than a hot knife slices through butter.

I mouth a "thank you" to Mr. Corden, and when the door closes behind us, I breathe a sigh of relief.