My Love For a Black Heart (ON HOLD)

Chapter Three

I play that memory in my mind everyday, keeping Eli's promise close to my heart... Truth be told, that day was the best day of my life by far. But of course it will be completely out-ranked when I'm wed and then when I give birth to my first child. But those things take time, of course. I have more important scenario I have planned I must accomplish first. My dream was to run away. To take Eli and his family and run away. To follow the Northern Star, all the way to Ohio. We could live on a cottage and raise horses. To start a family with the man I loved...

Rumor has it is that the sheriff wants to marry me. He's quiet a fine gentleman, yes. But that's just. he's a handsome fellow and treats every fine woman with a smile. A tall man. Broad shoulders and deep dark tousled hair and blue eyes. He's nothing to get excited about, though. He would make the perfect husband, If he would be perfect, then why not  marry him, you ask? He may have a charming smile and has a voice so warm, it made you melt, he does not have the personality I search for in a man...

I've talked to him a few times in town. Very polite. He placed a tender kiss on my hand and introduced himself with a low bow. I will not lie that I wasn't flattered. I couldn't help but smile. But he doesn't welcome women with a warm hug and a sweet kiss on the lips like Eli does.

I've talked to the women he has seen and he doesn't lay on a soft patch of grass and gazed up at the stars, holding you in his arms. He doesn't dance with you on the beach when the tides come in. He doesn't race you through a field of tall grass, tackling you with a kiss when he catches you.

The sheriff does not have an exotic personality like my dear Eli. The sheriff takes you out for a nice quiet dinner with wine and candles. He will walk you home in the moon light, a kiss on the hand and a good night.

Eli does not tell me when it is time to leave, I am not escorted. I can handle myself just fine, thank you. And Eli knows this. I do not need a fancy dinner with wine. Just cuddling on the couch satisfies me quiet well..

"This will simply not do," harped my mother.

The scanty farmer's face fell. Mother continued to eye the Red Delicious in her hand with her nails prodding it like some dead animal. The farmer had a straw had that had light shinning through the wholes onto his face. He had solid weight with his front teeth missing. He chewed tobacco and stank of hogs.

The red apple shinned in the afternoon sun, glistening with smooth skin, unscratched. Freckled with perfection and curved with absolute. But when you turned it to look at the back side, the skin of finished excellence was dented the slightest with a bruised brown, that according to my mother, contaminated the whole apple.

I pursed my lips out of frustration as my mother continued to nip and pick at the apple of "disgrace". The summer sun continued to beat down on my face and I could feel the sweat trickle down the small of my back. Eli stood the slightest behind me, arms cross, him too thinking my mother's shenanigans to be ridiculous.

"What wrong wit it?" buzzed the farmer in a thick country accent.

"You do not see that?" addressed Mother, "There is a foul bruise on this apple and you expect me to eat it?"

I wanted to shoot myself. This is why I hated going out with my mother. Father is just as bad, but not quite. "Ma, just buy the poor man's apples. It's just a small bruise. Cut it off before you eat it," I said in a low tone.

She scrunched up her face into a horrid scowl and said in a putrid tone, "You will address me as 'Mother', Evelyn. When in God's name did you start to entice me as 'Ma'?"

I never had really. Eli calls Mr. and Mrs. Jackson "Ma" and "Pa" and sometimes it slips out. I didn't answer. Mother continued to  scrutinize me with dead, cold eyes. She heaved a sigh and turned back to the farmer, "Fine. We'll take a dozen. Eli, grab the bag." And she stuck up her chin high and went her way to the vegetables.