Down on the Farm: The Whole Story

God, she was amazing, so hot and sexy looking, and she knew that was how I saw her. "I guess that I've earned mine," she said, "but you still haven't earned yours. I ought to make you eat me, right here and now, and then leave you high and dry until you get done."

"Your wish is my command, Miss Gina," I said as I started toward her.

"No, stop! I'm hot and sweaty and I stink. We'll take care of that later. Let's have a couple sandwiches, and then we can get back to work."

That was kind of fun. Gina and I washed our faces off with the garden hose, and made some tuna salad sandwiches on the upper picnic table; the garage itself had a fine coating of sawdust over everything. The sun was near its zenith, and it was a typical hot and humid Southern summer day. Fortunately, there were a few trees here, and I had placed the table on the north side of them, in the shade.

So, we had our lunch, and Kayak got a sandwich, too, though I'm not sure that tuna salad is the best thing for a dog. We chatted about really nothing at all, but that didn't matter: we were still drawing ever closer to each other. After lunch, she asked me to show her the wood I was going to use for the frames and doors, and how it was to be treated.

It was old, reclaimed barnwood. The outside of the barn had been painted red, but the inside had been left unpainted, and that was the side I was going to expose. It didn't look like much, but after making sure there were no nails left in it, I ran it one time through the planer. I had set the planer a bit high, so as to make the surface smooth but still leave the depressed imperfections. A very light run through the drum sander, to remove any burrs, followed by a high-grade polyurethane finish, and it would be perfect.

Gina said that she liked the look, so I set up the table saw to make the rip cuts, and used my power miter saw to set the length and angles.

The face frame didn't take that long to build, and I got it installed on the carcass fairly quickly. One side would be exposed, so I sided that with the barnwood. Gina went ahead and painted that one side flat black, so that if any small gaps opened in the siding over time, they wouldn't be as noticeable.

I had taken my time, making sure everything was perfect. I'm pretty good at this kind of thing, but only if I don't get in a rush; when I get in a hurry, I make mistakes, usually poor cuts.

When the cabinet was finished, we looked at it, hard, and Gina said, "Yup, that's a good look. Now, we're both hot and sweaty; how 'bout a dip in the river to cool off?"

That was certainly fine with me, especially since that was how we first met. Of course, Gina was in a kayak, and we didn't have the dog Kayak with us. I filled his food dish, and told him to stay up here, while we walked down to the riverbank, but, of course, he followed us.

It didn't matter: we were happy and holding hands, and quickly stripped naked once we got to the lower picnic table. We didn't have our water shoes with us, so getting in the water was a more gingerly process, but soon we were in, holding each other and laughing and kissing. This was just plain fun, fun like the first time we'd met, splashing each other and talking, when Gina moved closer to me, and put her arms around my neck. She pulled me in for another kiss, and then she said it: "I love you, Richard."

Well, wow! I hadn't expected that, not this quickly, but recovered from my surprise quickly enough to respond the right way, "I love you too, Gina, I'll always love you." That got me a lot more kisses, passionate, hungry, make-love-to-me-now kisses, but, of course, the dog was right there with us, and he was too playful to let us make love when he was around. Kayak wasn't really a swimmer, more just playing along the riverbank, but sex actually in the water doesn't work very well: the water washes away a woman's natural lubrication. It went unspoken, but both Gina and I knew that lovemaking would be put off until bedtime.

We kept our arms around each other, still kissing, but more softly, when I asked her, "What made you tell me now, after the conversation we had yesterday?"

"Well, I'd been feeling it all along, but what made it all come together was that you trusted me and respected me. You let me grout that kitchen floor when I told you I thought I could do it, showing me that you believed in me. You listened to my concerns about the kitchen cabinet finish enough to work hard to get a sample cabinet ready, to get my opinion on it, when, really it's your house, not mine."

"Gina, it is your house, too, and it has to be."

"You're sweet and all that, but I'm practical enough to know the difference between sweet talking and whose name is actually on the deed." Then, shushing me before I could say a word, she added, "And no, I don't want you to offer to go down to the courthouse to add my name to the deed. There'll be time for the practical stuff later."

We spent a bit more time in the river, cooling off, and chit-chatting about nothing serious, before it was time to get out and clean up. The river water was great for cooling off, but it wasn't a really cleansing bath. And, of course, our feet got muddy getting up the bank.

We walked naked back up to the house, carrying our clothes. We both needed showers, and I asked Gina, "What about asking your mom over for supper? We can grill out some steaks and veggies, and eat on the picnic table."

"Really? You want to meet my mother? What guy volunteers for that?" She was grinning as she said it.

"The guy you're with. I mean, it's got to happen eventually, and your note to her only said that you'd be out a couple of days. Don't you have to tell her what's going on, so she won't be worried?"

"OK, but you do realize that we have to get dressed again." Gina was teasing me.

I wasn't meaning to eavesdrop, but Gina didn't go any distance away to call her mother. "Hey, mom, you busy?

"Listen, I'm at my boyfriend's house. Can you come over for dinner? Nothing special, just us grilling out.

"Remember the old MacIntosh farm? That's where we are. Yeah, Richard, my boyfriend, bought it a few months ago. How soon can you be over?"

It's kind of strange hearing one side of a conversation, but I got the whole gist, and then Gina said that her mother could be here in half an hour. Oops, better get those showers in fast, and get dressed. I threw the charcoal in the grill and lit it, so that it would be close to ready when Gina's mom got here, and then rushed to the shower. Gina was already in it, so I joined her.

"Now, now, none of that! My mom'll be here in just a few minutes!"

I fake grumbled at that, but of course, she was right, and we were both clean and dressed when an old Nissan Sentra pulled into the driveway.

I guess that Gina must've gotten her looks from her father, because I'd never have guessed that the woman who got out of the Nissan was her mother. She was darker-complexioned than Gina, with dark brown eyes. Her hair was completely grey, so I couldn't tell what color it had been originally, and her figure was thin, thinner than my girlfriend's. But there was one amazing similarity: I could barely tell their voices apart, in tone, timbre or accent. If I'd been talking to one of them on the phone, I'd never be able to distinguish between them.

Kayak certainly liked Mrs Scott, and she didn't seem to have any problems with him jumping up and greeting her the way only a super-friendly dog can. I introduced myself, and most definitely got the once-over, and then headed back for the grill.

I like my steaks rare. They shouldn't moo, but at least have a whimper or two left in them. Both Mrs Scott and Gina asked for medium rare, and that just meant a couple minutes more than mine. I had some veggies, with a bit of olive oil sprinkled over them, roasting in foil while I grilled the steaks, as well as some thin-sliced potatoes.

The day had been pretty hot, but with the sun westering, it was getting a bit cooler, and enough clouds were passing to give us some shade at the picnic table. I tried to ignore the conversation between mother and daughter, as it was obviously about me but not meant for my ears, but we were close enough for me to get the gist of it. I picked up the phrases "hard worker" and "doesn't use drugs," and noticed Mrs Scott's approval at those. I did see a bit of a look of surprise when Gina told her mom how we'd met, including the phrase "skinny dipping." I'm not sure that Mrs Scott approved of that, but as long as Gina did, I was happy enough.

After the steaks -- and Kayak got Mrs Scott's leftovers; she ate like a bird -- we took her on a tour of the house. She seemed genuinely proud of Gina for having grouted the kitchen floor, and she liked the sample cabinet with the reclaimed wood. It is an unusual look, but what impressed her the most was that I had given Gina approval rights on décor of what technically is my house, after we'd been seeing each other for just three days. That, and the fact her daughter now had a boyfriend who could actually do some real work around the house; I am enough of a realist to have noticed the wheels turning, considering just how much Mrs Scott's house needed maintenance. I figured, right away, that with my professional spray-gun, I could easily repaint her house, but I kept that to myself for the time being.

The days passed just wonderfully: Gina and I kept plugging away at the house, getting the kitchen cabinets built and installed. It had been fun enough grilling out every evening, but we did need a real kitchen. Gina picked up the cabinetry-building skills rapidly, and did every bit as much work as I did on the installation, though I did have to take the lead on how the installation had to be done. Gina asked me to install a gas line, for propane, so that we'd have the option of a gas range somewhere in the future, it being easier to do that now, before the cabinets were installed. I'd already done all of the electrical and plumbing work, having redone the drywall before I had begun the floors.

We spent several evenings at her mother's house as well. It was unspoken, but we always knew enough to bring over food, to reduce the financial stress on Mrs Scott. Since Gina didn't work during the school system's summer break, she didn't have any money coming in to help her mom. I could see how much work that house needed, and knew that there was no way that Gina's mother could afford to have it done, or even afford the materials if Gina and I did the work, so finally I just brought it up, and told Gina that I was going to pay to have a new metal roof put on the house, now, before the weather turned cool. It didn't matter how much other work had to be done: if a house doesn't have a good roof, everything else is wasted.

I didn't know what Gina's reaction to that would be, but it was clear that she had expected something along these lines, because her response wasn't surprise at all, just normal conversation. She expressed concern about how much money that would take, and whether I could afford it, but I assured her that I could: while I hadn't published a novel in over a year, my short story collection, The Church at Monteriggioni was selling well.

Still, I needed to get back to writing! My stories were what paid the bills, and while I had money stocked away, I wanted to leave it invested.

By the time Gina started back to work, the kitchen was complete, with all of the cabinets and appliances installed. There were no more naked walks to the garage to fix breakfast, but Gina was up and heading out the door a few minutes after five in the morning on school days. That meant that work on the house went more slowly, without her to help, but it also meant that I got more writing done. We pulled the old carpet from our bedroom and the den, and splurged on bamboo flooring, and the living room will be next. We took advantage of a couple of warm weekends to prep and paint the outside of Mrs Scott's house, and my ego got a big boost when I went to see Gina at work, and all of her co-workers were complimenting her on the guy she'd landed.

As I wrote all of this down, I kept thinking, as an author, this story needed a great climax to bring it to an end, but there really wasn't one. There was no romantic proposal -- the subject just sort of came up, and we talked about it, and decided that yeah, we would get married, but there was no getting-down-on-one-knee scene -- and no great problems or crises which we had to weather and solve. We had gotten together quickly, but life for us simply melded together smoothly. The ending is trite, but none the worse for having been used before: on our farm in Kentucky, we lived happily ever after!