Start Again

The Indiana morning cut through the open window, the sun and wind danced into the room creating the perfect balance of breeze and warmth. Your eyes scanned the wood floors looking for the only explanation you could imagine as to why the bed next to you was empty. You knew James slept on the floor when the mattress became too much for him.

Like sleeping on a marshmallow.

You were unable to find the reason for your emptiness but gave up momentarily to truly enjoy waking up on such a perfect morning. Your eyes fluttered closed as your head sunk back onto the pillow. You smiled to yourself when the sound of birds chirping began to fill your room.

Fucking birds, who are you, Laura Ingles?

Small town Indiana wouldn't have been your first choice, maybe that was the part of you that would miss the city. But being too close to any of it was risking too much. Even if Bucky had been from here only moving away in his childhood, the memory of Indiana being the soldier's home was far from the public consciousness. You decided to give it a shot when he suggested it, though you'd be lying if you said you weren't reluctant.

"I don't know, James."

"Doll, they have the wifi and you can get that two-day delivery, I'll be there too so you'll have everything you need." He said winking at you. You smiled at the memory before forcing yourself to place your bare feet on the cool wooden floors.

Walking down the aisle of the grocery stores even with his long sleeves and gloves, there were constant bystanders giving constant looks. Locals looking at him, up and down, trying to decide if it was him or not. You'd concluded that they were either too scared to ask, or thought it was him but then talked themselves out of it because he was a man grocery shopping in some Fred Meyer in rural Indiana. There was the occasional question and he was less bothered by it than you were since he'd become almost accustomed to explaining things away but it was irritating that people thought they had the right to know about his gloves or why he wore long shirts in the heat of summer. One day after an uneventful run to the store you watched out the window as Bucky drove. You found yourselves in comfortable silence watching the neighborhood pass by. Pulling up to the house you remember the first time you saw the place. As soon as Bucky came out of hiding and got his military back pay for being a POW, he invested it into the home his parents bought before his first sister was born. It was the first home he knew and he said it didn't feel right that it belonged to someone else. It was why you were so ready to give this place a shot, it had meant so much to him and he'd already owned the home, luckily during the blip Nat made sure it was kept up and unoccupied. She knew what it meant to him, it was a part of her friend she was not willing to let go of. You would be forever grateful to her for saving the place you now called home, you both would. Putting your place on the market was bittersweet, but getting the check cleared up all the bitterness. You hadn't made the memories there as you'd made at the hill. As Bucky pulled the keys from the ignition he looked over to see your face glazed over while you were deep in thought.

"You alright there, doll?" Your eyes snapped closed and then back open bringing you from your trance.

"Hum? Oh, yeah baby I'm fine." You nodded your head as your hand reached to unclasp your seatbelt.

"Tell me." He said as his eyes were watching you making small distracted movements.

"I just was thinking about the house."

"Oh? What about?" He asked as he swung open the passenger door. You didn't answer him, instead, you hopped out and headed to the back of the car to start unloading the bags. He followed you with a questioning look but you stayed quiet. Making your way through the old wooden house you smiled at the way the floor creaked under your feet. The long linen curtains you'd picked out with James swung as the air from the front door swept through the house. You made your way to the kitchen with full hands. You were already pulling contents from the bags when he made it in with the rest. He would loop bag after bag around his left arm to avoid making multiple trips. He placed them gently on the counter. The thumping of metal cans and glass jars echoed through the kitchen.