To Everything There Is A Season

July 10, Early Afternoon

            It was so hot. The steam from the canning pot was turning my usually wave hair into a sticky, frizzy mess around my face. I was glad that the rest of the dirty blonde length was braided back. I wished for a breeze to cool things down a little bit, but the hot, humid weather was good for all my growing plants, so I didn't want to complain too much about my discomfort. My back was a little stiff from the work I'd done that morning. I was out of practice scything so the twisting motion was straining muscles I hadn't used in a while. I checked the time on my pocket watch. Nearly time to remove this batch and process the last dozen jars. Almost done this round of tomatoes. I had soup bases, relishes, sauces and plain old stewed tomatoes canned and ready to use this fall and winter.

The gentle swirl of the air and a new scent were the first signs that I was no longer alone. I looked up into the warmest brown eyes I had ever seen. It was both exciting and terrifying. After a lifetime of only seeing those I'd always know and the last three months of being totally alone seeing a new face was heart pounding. As much as my body wanted to act, either run and hide or stare I needed to pay attention to my canning. If I messed up this winter would be a hungry one.

"Just a moment sir I need to move my jars from the water so they can seal and cool" I softly requested, hoping he wouldn't punish me for meeting his eyes and talking before he spoke.

"Let me help you with those. It looks hot and heavy." Came the startling reply.

My head jerked up and then away, hesitant to once again breach the rules I knew. I was reaching for the heavy work gloves when they were snatched up and that new voice asked where to place the jars. I indicated the trestle table beside me where the previous batches were cooling, and my next batch was waiting to process. I took the time to really look at the newcomer. He was dressed in black fatigue pants and an olive-green shirt that stretched across his leanly muscled chest. His long blond hair was tied back at the nape of his neck and he had a rifle slung across his back. His feet were shod in black combat boots, pant legs messily tucked in the top. The clearing of a throat brought me out of my curious perusal of the stranger in front of me. I flushed with embarrassment at being caught acting in such an improper manner and braced for a reprimand. A pleased chuckle was the only response to my bad manners and then the last hot jar was deposited onto the table in front of me.

A loud squawk followed by a shouted "Luke!" startled me into dropping the jar is was in the process of placing in the canning pot. A large hand shot out to catch it before it could fall into the water.

"Careful there, Cupcake, wouldn't want to hurt yourself. Let me put this down and answer my radio." The brown eyed stranger told me, before turning away to talk quietly into a black glossy box that had been hanging from his belt.

"Hold a moment. I'll update my situation in a few minutes." He said to whoever was on the other end before turning to me and asking, "What's your name, I'm Lucian but my friends call me Luke."

I was unsure how to react. On the one hand he had spoken first on the other he was an unknown male and I was never to talk to them without my husband. But Jed wasn't here, and I hadn't seen him in three months.

"Hello Mr. Luke, my name is Sang." I finally replied, my eyes not meeting his. "What are you doing here? This is private property and I'm not sure how my husband will react when he comes home if he finds you here."

Luke's eyes went wide, "Is your husband expected home soon?"

"He's been gone since early April and I have no idea if he is ever coming home. I saw the smoke from the city a few weeks ago but I have no idea what is happening." I answered quietly my index finger gently pressing against my lip.