Harry on the Prairie

Chapter 13

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Sorry I was slower than molasses in wintertime!

How are my toasty muffins doing this afternoon? ILY you. xoxo

*****

FRANKIE:

He gives a sheepish smile, "We should get back inside, you know," he says as I continue to examine his woodworking skills.

Then I notice to the left of the floral carving it says Harry. To the right it's not finished yet, but it says F-R-A.

"I'm not finished yet," Harry blushes and looks down at the ground, drawing a little pattern in the sawdust with his boot, and then he looks up at me through his long eyelashes.

When our eyes meet, the answer to what our kisses meant is so clear I can't believe I ever doubted it.

*****
She said, "Yes." I said, "Wow."
And she said, "When?" I said, "How 'bout right now?"
Love can't wait
Then I asked if she believed in fate,
And she said "Yes."
                -Rhett Atkins

FRANKIE:

When I come downstairs in the morning, there is a bunch of wildflowers in a jar on the kitchen table. My heart pitter-pats as I realize Harry must have picked them. I pick up the jar and give 'em a good sniff before heading in the kitchen to whip up some breakfast.

I think about how sweet Harry is while I scramble eggs and fry bacon, daydreaming about the swing he's making. Maybe he'll finish it today? As I take the biscuits out of the oven, there's a knock at the door. Harry must have his hands full.

Crossing the front room, I wipe my hands on a dish towel and pull open the front door, surprised to see someone other than Harry.

He's about my height and has very blue eyes. Surprised and a little confused by my presence, he removes his hat in a swift motion and nods in greeting. Some of his blonde hair is standing straight up on his head!

"I'm lookin' for Harry Styles?" His statement sounds like a question. "I'm Niall Horan. I live up on the mountain." He points and I want to chuckle at his accent.

I realize this must be Harry's whiskey-drinking friend. "Niall, of course. I'm Frankie Tomlinson. I hear you can dance a pretty good jig?" I smile.

"Heck yea, I can," Niall laughs. "It's been awhile though."

"I haven't seen Harry yet this morning, but I'm guessing he's out in the barn if you want to take a look. I just finished up breakfast. Would you mind telling him it's ready? There's more than enough if you'd like to stay," I offer.

"I thought I smelled bacon when ya opened the door," Niall grins. "Always room for bacon. I'll see ya in a bit then, Frankie." Niall nods and runs off to the barn.

By the time I have breakfast on the table and add a plate for Niall, the boys are inside, chuckling and bantering between themselves. Niall is talking so fast that it's almost hard to make out everything he says, but then when Harry speaks in his slow way, it gives me time to catch up.

"Morning, Frankie," Harry greets me with a wink, making my cheeks warm. "Thank you for inviting Niall to stay," he says with appreciation.

"Of course," I reply as I fill our tin cups with coffee. "Who wouldn't want to entertain a jig-dancing Irishman for breakfast?"

"Right!" Niall's laugh is almost a giggle, "That's a great looking swing out there Harry's working on for ya. I betcha that was a surprise, yeah?"

"Certainly was," I give Harry a shy smile. "I'm beginning to see that Harry is quite the carpenter!"

Harry smiles proudly and then sticks a whole piece of bacon in his mouth at once.

"Any excuse to play with his ruler," Niall comments with a provocative grin, throwing his head back in wild laughter at his own joke while Harry reaches over, slaps Niall upside the head and grabs his last piece of bacon.

"Mate! My bacon! That's not right!" Niall cries out in distress, holding onto his head.

Harry makes a big show of biting into it and moaning to emphasize its deliciousness. "Serves you right." Harry tries to be serious, but I can tell they have a tight bond between them, like brothers.

Shaking my head I walk to the kitchen and return with the skillet to serve the boys a second helping.

"It's nice to have a woman's touch around the place, idn't it Harry?" Niall glances around, "Flowers on the table and such. It's homey in here."

A flash of panic crosses Harry's face, but soon vanishes as I give him a wink and reply to Niall, "I try my best." It's probably bad enough Niall saw the swing, let alone finding out his friend had picked flowers. Boys can be relentless.

Turns out Niall had gone into town early to pick up some much needed supplies, stopping in for a visit on his way back to the mountain.

"They had a big banner up," Niall manages to get out between forkfuls of egg. "Gonna be a big picnic after church on Sunday. Ya'll going?"

"I hadn't heard anything about it," Harry shrugs as we look at each other. "I'm not into all that neighborly sort of stuff. People just wanna get in my business," he grumbles.

Niall pushes a bit, "Aww, mate. They're havin' a pie contest, games, a dance. All sorts of stuff." He glances from Harry's expressionless face to mine as I try to contain my excitement.

"A pie contest, Harry! I can bake my peach pie," I tease, poking his cheek with my finger hoping to get a smile.

"I don't want the whole town having your peach pie," Harry pouts, "I kinda wanted that to be just for me."

What an adorable baby he is. Niall lets out a loud guffaw at Harry's expense, and Harry's brow furrows.

"So sensitive! Finish your breakfast and I'll help ya hang up that swing before I go, yeah?" Niall gets up, ruffling Harry's hair as he does. Pulling his hat on, he nods politely and thanks me for breakfast. "See ya outside, Harry," he says, sticking his tongue out at Harry behind his back as he exits the cabin.

"That little—,"

"Now, Harry. That is no way to speak of your friend. He seemed mighty friendly. Trustworthy, I'd gather."

Harry tries to stay grumpy as he swigs his last bit of coffee.

"Thanks for the flowers, Harry."

"You're welcome." His smile comes out, and I feel it all through my being.

"Frankie, I thought maybe...that, uh," Harry rubs the back of his neck as he meanders all over the conversation. "I know you're stayin' here and such -- but I was wonderin' if I might come to call on ya? Kinda like we were courtin'? No, not like courtin', but actual courtin'. If ya want? Nothing fancy or anything, but—"

There's a sudden loudness from the porch, "Harry! Get your arse out here! We're burnin' daylight, mate!"

I giggle when Harry's chair falls over as he scrambles to his feet.

"Shit," Harry fumbles to right the chair as he hollers, "Be right there!"

His hand on the doorknob, he shakes his head, exasperated by the interruption.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd love to spend some time with you."

His smile is a ray of sunlight. "No kiddin'? So that's a yes?"

"It sure is."