She followed Steve through the kitchen to the dining room. The floors were original hardwood planking, polished to a dark sheen from years of stocking feet, she imagined. The room held a long table and eight chairs. There was a matching antique buffet table against the wall to her immediate left. The white eyelet runner was piled with mail, bills, and stacks of paperwork. To her right, Summer noticed an open door leading into a bathroom. Next to that was an open door that led to a staircase going to the second floor, and next to that was an archway that led into a living room.
Summer followed Steve into the living room. There were hardwood floors throughout the first floor. In the living room the floor was covered with a large braided rug. The room held a sofa against the far wall, flanked at an angle by a pair of easy chairs. There was a television to her right and a brick fireplace to her left.
A baseball game was playing on the television, and an elderly gentleman was asleep in one of the easy chairs.
“Pop, wake up. I want you to meet someone.”
The man opened his eyes and tried to focus. “I wasn’t sleeping, just resting my eyes.”
“Yeah, sure,” Steve conceded, grinning. “Pop, this is Summer, the woman I took to the hospital last night.” Steve turned to Summer. “This is my grandfather. We call him Pop.”
Pop slowly got up out of the chair. “Sorry, ma’am. These old bones aren’t what they used to be.” He extended his hand to Summer and looked her up and down. “So, you’re the young woman that caused all the excitement around here last night, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I’m pleased to meet you. Sorry if I woke you last night.”
“Naw. Me, I slept through the whole thing. Just heard about it over breakfast this morning. Besides, this place could use some excitement, if you ask me.”
“Pop, I’ve offered Summer the housekeeper position that we’d talked about.”
Pop looked from Steve to Summer. “Well, isn’t that nice. It’s about time, too.”
“I’ve offered her room and board as part of the deal. I’m going to put her in the spare bedroom.”
“Yeah? Well, it’ll need a good cleaning first. God knows what junk we’ve stored in there. Haven’t had a need for that room since Aunt Ellie visited two years ago.”
“Don’t worry, Pop. I’ll clean it up first.”
Steve led the way up the stairs to the second floor. He opened the door to a room that faced out over the back of the property. There was an antique brass bed against the back wall, situated between two windows covered in lace curtains. The bed was covered with a faded yellow chenille spread. There were several toss pillows and a stuffed bear sitting in the middle of the bed, waiting to greet Summer.
An old oak dresser and mirror sat opposite the bed. On it was an embroidered white runner in between two matching antique lamps.
There was indeed a pile of boxes on the floor in the far corner, just like Pop predicted.
“Sorry. It’s a mess. I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“Isn’t that what I’m here for?” Summer asked with a grin.
Steve looked sheepish. “Yeah, I guess.”
“It’ll be fine.” Summer walked over and picked up the stuffed bear. Running her hands over its worn fur, she smiled. “Is this your daughter’s?”
“Probably. She has a room full of them. Stuffed animals, I mean. Guess they’re trickling down the hall.”
They looked at each other and smiled. Summer set the bear back on the bed.
“Um, the bathroom is across the hall. If you’d like to get cleaned up, take a shower, I think we could probably find some clothes of Jessie’s that would fit you.” Steve nodded his head toward Summer’s outfit.
She glanced down and realized she was still wearing the clothing from the night before, bloodstains and all.
“Um, yes. I’d like that.”
“Come on,” Steve said, and led the way down the hall to the next room.
He opened the door, and Summer followed him in. The furniture was girly, white. The room was definitely a teenager’s, with posters on the wall and stuffed animals piled on the bed and shelves.
He rummaged through the closet and came up with a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. “Here, try these,” he said, offering them to her. “If they don’t fit, you can see if you can find something else.”
“Thanks,” she replied, taking the items. They stood looking at each other.
“Um. There are towels in the bathroom.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Well, I’ll be downstairs. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Okay. I will.”
He left, and she looked around the room. There was a bulletin board on the wall, and she leaned closer to look at the photos pinned up on it.
There were a couple of Steve and a girl who must be Jessie at different ages. There were some of Jessie and her friends. Summer scanned the collection, smiling. Then her eyes fell on one and stopped. It was an older photo of a pretty young woman holding a girl about four years old. Summer realized the photo must be of Jessie and her mother. She was a beautiful woman, with long dark hair and the prettiest smile. It was a sad story Steve had told her about his wife. Summer couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her.
She shook her head, heading to the bathroom to take a shower and change clothes.
An hour later, Summer joined Steve downstairs for a tour of the rest of the house and property.
“This is the kitchen, of course. The stove is gas,” Steve said, indicating the ancient appliance. “You have to light the burners with a match. It’s old, but it works. And over here is the refrigerator.” He opened the door. “Looks like we’re pretty well stocked for now.”
“What’s in those jars?” Summer asked, indicating the glass mason jars with a white fluid in them. There were three lined up on the top shelf.
“What? This?” Steve asked, holding one up.
Summer nodded.
“This is milk, darlin’. You
have
had milk before, haven’t you?”
“The only milk I’ve had comes in a plastic gallon jug, and you get it at the grocery store,” Summer stated.
“Well, this is even better. Comes right out of the cow, and
we
keep it in mason jars. Can’t get any fresher than this.”
“Why does it look so funny?”
“That’s the cream. It rises to the top. You just have to shake it up,” Steve explained, giving the jar a shake.
“Okay. If you say so,” Summer acknowledged.
“Here, try some,” Steve offered, unscrewing the top and holding it out to her. “It’ll be the best milk you ever had. Makes that grocery store stuff taste like water.”
“No, no. Maybe later,” Summer declined.
“Okay. Suit yourself.” He put it back and closed the door. “The pots and pans are down here, the dishes and glasses up there, and…”
Summer was glancing around the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I, I don’t see a dishwasher.”
“There isn’t one,” Steve replied with a smile. “We use the old fashioned way.” He pointed to the sink.
“Oh.” Summer frowned.
“And this is the freezer where we keep the meat.” Steve walked out into the mudroom, over to a large waist high freezer, and lifted the door.
Summer followed him out and leaned over, peering inside. Everything was neatly wrapped in butcher paper, with the contents of each package written on the paper in black grease pencil. Ground round, sirloin, etc.
“Beef, beef, and more beef,” she observed.
“We trade with the Munson’s. They give us a side of beef, and I give them free milk,” Steve explained.
“Oh, I see.”
“I could kill a chicken, if you want,” he offered, grinning.
“No! No, that’s okay,” Summer insisted.
“You sure? It’ll only take a minute,” he teased.
“Beef is great. I love beef.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, you just let me know.” Steve let the freezer door drop. “Come on, city girl. I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
He led the way out the back door and across the yard. He opened the door to the barn, sliding it to the side, and they went inside.
It smelled of hay and cows. There was a large open floor with large double doors on either end. There was an aisle to walk against the far left wall, and next to that was a feed-trough with iron bars running vertical all along it. She noticed equipment hanging from the ceiling.
“This is a dairy farm. The cows put their heads through these bars to eat the feed, and the bars close around their necks to keep them in place,” Steve explained. “We attach the milking equipment.” He indicated the apparatus hanging from the ceiling.
Summer nodded.
“The milk goes through those hoses, is stored in those tanks, and is picked up daily.” He pointed to some large tanks against the far wall.
“How often do the cows get milked?”
“Twice a day. Four-thirty a.m. and four-thirty p.m.”
“Four-thirty a.m.?” Summer asked in disbelief.
“Yup. Every morning. No exceptions. They get real upset if they’re not milked on time.”
“Where are the cows now?”
“They’re out in the pasture all day. They only come in when it’s milking time.”
“Do you have to round them up?”
Steve laughed. “No, ma’am. They pretty much come home on their own. They know when feeding and milking time is. You could set your clock by ‘em. Believe me. Come on.”
Steve headed through the barn and out the double doors on the far side. They walked around the barn to a small shed in the back. It was surrounded on three sides by a fenced-in-yard of chicken wire.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“This, darlin’, is the chicken coup.” Steve picked up a basket and opened the door. As they went in, some of the chickens scurried out through a small door at the other end and into the fenced in yard. “You reach in here and get the eggs,” he instructed, reaching his hand under a hen sitting in one of the nests set up on a shelf.
Summer watched him gather about a half dozen. One of the hens pecked at him. “Does that hurt?” she asked.
“Naw, not much. You can wear gloves if you want,” he suggested.
“Me?”
“Yes ma’am. If you want to make eggs in the morning, this is where you’ll get them.”
Summer just stared at him.
He grinned. “Come here, darlin’. It’s not that hard. I’ll show you.” She stepped over to him. He took her hand in his, guiding it under a chicken. The hen squawked a little and stood up, but settled back down as soon as she had the egg. “There, not so bad, huh?” Steve asked, looking down at her. They stared at each other a long moment, and then Summer looked away nervously.
She smiled. “No, not so bad.”
“Good, because I like eggs for breakfast. Three, scrambled, with bacon. And biscuits, if you know how to make them,” he said hopefully.
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you putting in your order for tomorrow morning?”
“You got it, babe,” he confirmed with a grin. “We eat after we finish milking. And Summer, we come back in from milking at five-thirty.”
“Oh, good Lord.” Summer glanced to another large metal building set back from the others. “What’s in there?”
“Just some equipment. It’s where we store some stuff.”
She nodded.
They headed back towards the house as a candy-apple red ’67 Mustang came flying up the drive, stopping in a cloud of dust. A teenage girl climbed out and reached in the backseat, pulling out a backpack. She had long, dark hair that fell to her waist, which Summer thought looked like silk. She was about five foot eight, most of which was leg. Summer followed Steve over to the car.
“Summer, this is my daughter, Jessie,” he introduced her.
Jessie turned from getting her backpack. “Oh, hi, how are you?” she greeted Summer and then turned to her father. “Daddy, the car’s making that ticking noise again.”
“Well, have you checked the oil?” he asked, his hands automatically going to his hips in a fatherly stance.
“You’re the mechanic in this family, Dad. I just drive it,” Jessie teased, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.
“Yeah, yeah. Jessie, Summer will be staying with us for a while. I’ve offered her a job doing the cooking and cleaning.”
“Really? No kidding? I can’t believe you finally broke down and hired someone, Daddy.”
“Yeah, well, it was about time, huh?”
“Duh, yeah! Did you finally put an ad in the paper?”
“Um, no, Jessie. Summer is the woman I told you about that was in the accident.”
“You mean the lady you took to the hospital last night?” she asked, turning to Summer. “Wow. Daddy said you couldn’t remember anything, even your name.”
“That’s true, I’m afraid,” Summer admitted, smiling at her.
“But now you remember your name again, huh?”
“What? Oh, no. Your dad just started calling me Summer, because, well I guess he had to call me something,” she said, turning to look at Steve.
“And I wasn’t about to call her Jane Doe.” He smiled at Summer and then turned to his daughter. “Jessie, I was wondering if maybe you could see if you had any clothes that might fit Summer. Stuff she could borrow until she can go shopping.”
“Yeah, sure,” she replied and then turned to Summer. “Come on, you can look through my closet.”
Summer smiled at Steve and followed Jessie. They went in the house and up the stairs. When Jessie walked in her room, she automatically tossed her backpack on her bed and kicked off her shoes.
“Here, look through these,” Jessie offered, opening her closet doors. “I’ll see if I have some jeans in my dresser that might fit you.”
“I really appreciate this. I don’t want to take your good things. If you have some old clothes that you don’t want anymore, that would be fine.”
Together they came up with several pairs of jeans and about a half dozen tee shirts. About an hour later, Summer was back in her own room, hanging up her borrowed things. It didn’t take long, and then she hurried back downstairs to start something for dinner.
When she walked into the kitchen, she found Pop standing at the stove, stirring a pot. He turned when she walked in. “I’m making chili. It’s the only thing I make that they like. So, you’re off the hook tonight, missy.”
“Well, is there anything I can do to help?” Summer offered.
“There’s a pan of cornbread in the oven. You can get that out, cut it in squares, and put it on a plate.”