the farmer's daughter

the farmers daughter: 5

My love is the evenin' breeze touchin' your skin
The gentle, sweet singin' of leaves in the wind
The whisper that calls after you in the night
And kisses your ear in the early moonlight
And you don't need to wonder, you're doing fine
My love, the pleasure's mine.

Crazy on you by heart

Johnny's presence grows routine, even if it still feels peculiar. Before, you saw him now and again when he dropped in to see your dad.

He never seemed very social, and that sense hasn't changed. He comes, does his work, and politely accepts his dinner.

That day, a week since your father's homecoming, you're due to drive into town.

You need to stop by the pharmacy for your mom and pick up a few staples from the grocer.

You're excited to get out to distance yourself just for an hour or two from the somber farmhouse.

You grab your purse, a wicker bag with a ribbon tied on the handle, and put a hat on to block out the beaming sunlight. The birds tweet in greeting as you fold your mother's list into your pocket and head for the garage.

The door is open already. Shane always forgets to close it.

You jingle the keys and climb up into the old truck. You don't drive it often, mostly traveling to town with your parents or brother.

You prefer to walk most places, even if it is a bit far.

You put your bag on the passenger seat and turn the keys in the ignition. The engine putters, and then a loud bag makes you yelp.

A plume of black smoke erupts from the slits on the hood of the truck and a rackety clunking churns in the motor. You let go of the key as you sit dumbfounded and watch the cloud grow.

You hear footsteps, and suddenly, the driver's door swings open. You're pulled out before you can react, put onto your feet, and ushered back into the spring hue. You cough as you get a mouthful of smoke and turn to face the garage, Johnny's hand lingering on your back.

"Shane," he growls before he marches forward, "told that kid he was gonna start a fire."

"I..."

"What's going on?" Your brother dashes up as if he heard his name, "woah, holy cow."

"What did you do?" Johnny accuses.

"What? I fixed it," Shane shrugs.

"Damnit, Johnny growls and paces back and forth. "You're lucky it didn't catch fire," he turns on your brother, "you're lucky your sister didn't get hurt."

"Huh? What?" Shane shakes his head, "I didn't - "

"She was in there," Johnny's voice rises tremulously.

"I'm okay," you pipe up, "it's fine, I just... can you fix it?"

Johnny stops and faces you. His brow twitches in anger, and he crosses his thick arms. He peeks over his shoulder and then back at you.

"Not any time soon."

"I can fix it."

"Don't touch it," Johnny snarls, "you leave better off alone."

"Jeez, dad, calm down," Shane snipes dryly. He gets a dark glare in return and flinches visibly, "Sorry, I-"

"Shouldn't be joking about that," Johnny girds and pivots his attention back to you, "where were you going?"

"Just to town. I was gonna get some stuff from the store," you explain.

"I'll drive you," Johnny insists.

"Oh, uh, that's fine. I can call Mr. Howland-"

"Don't bother," Johnny waves you off, "running low on manure around here."

"Oh," you chew your lip, "right. Well, thanks, I'll just grab my purse -"

You take a step towards the garage, and Johnny quickly blocks your path, "I'll get it. You shouldn't breathe that stuff in."

You step back and nod. Johnny rolls his shoulders and narrows his eyes at Shane as he spins, "Get back to planting. There is no time to waste."

Shane stalks into the thinning smoke, and you blink at your brother. He mopes and throws his hands up as he looks at you, "I was just trying to help."

"I know, Shane," you say, "better just get it done."

"God, he's a grumpy gus, isn't he," Shane rolls his eyes, "sorry, sis."

"I'm okay," you assure him, "just go."

"Hey," he stops himself before he goes, "can you grab me smokes?"

"No," Johnny answers as he emerges, holding out your purse, "come on, better head out."

Shane huffs and tramps away. You take your purse from Johnny with a sheepish smile. His anger makes you nervous. You've never seen him anything less than stoic. You follow him to his truck, parked just in front of the house, and he opens the passenger door ahead of you.

The porch door swings open and shut. Before you can climb up into the truck, your mom rushes out, "Everything okay?"

"Just some car troubles," Johnny calls back, "nothing I can't fix."

"Right, oh," she looks over at the wisps escaping the garage, "fire?"

"Just smoke," Johnny returns, "I'm gonna take her to town, I'll have a proper look when I get back."

"I can call Vol," your mother offers.

He grumbles and offers his hand. You let him help you up into the truck, the lift even higher than your dad's. He waits for you to settle in before he shuts the door.

"All good, Maggie," he shows his palm, "won't be long at all."

"Thank you, Johnny," your mother preens, "you're too good to us."

He nods and goes around the front of the truck. He hops in the driver's seat with no effort at all and shuts the door. He buckles his seat belt, glancing over at you, and you do the same. You clutch your purse and swing your feet over the floor.

"You alright?" He asks as he starts the engine and shifts.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Must've been scary," he comments.

"Just a bit of a surprise," you chirp, "but I'm okay. Er, thanks for... for saving me."

"Saving you?" He scoffs.

"Yeah, I didn't really know what to do," you laugh at yourself, "I'd still be sitting there staring like a deer."

"Hmph," the noise is close to a chuckle.

"What are we getting in town?" He asks.

"Oh, uh, pharmacy first," you answer, "then I wanted to see if the market's selling honeydew."

He hums and backs out. You hold onto the door as the truck rolls over the bumpy ground. It's not what you planned, but it's still a break.