The Truck Driver

Honey Biscuit

The days passed in a comfortable rhythm for Kayla. Mornings started early, the smell of coffee brewing as she and Miss Sherri walked the land, tending to the animals before the sun got too high. Miss Sherri was patient, guiding Kayla through each task with a steady hand and a kind voice, never making her feel like she didn't belong.

"Now, baby, be gentle when you reach under 'em," Miss Sherri said one morning as Kayla crouched down beside the chicken coop. "They don't like nobody snatchin' up they eggs too quick."

Kayla nodded, carefully sliding her hand under the hen, feeling the warmth of the fresh egg against her palm. She grinned as she placed it in the basket. "Like this?"

"That's real good, sugar," Miss Sherri praised, nodding approvingly.

Kayla found herself looking forward to these moments. She hadn't had a mother figure like this growing up—someone who taught her things with patience and love. Miss Sherri treated her like she belonged, like she was one of her own, and Kayla soaked up every bit of it.

When they weren't tending to the animals, they were in the kitchen. Miss Sherri showed her how to make Tank's favorite meals, walking her through each step.

"You wanna keep the heat low when you makin' this gravy," she said, stirring the pan. "Tank love his smothered pork chops thick and seasoned right. You add too much flour, and it'll taste like paste."

Kayla listened intently, jotting down notes in a little notebook she kept tucked in the kitchen drawer. She wanted to be able to cook for Tank just like this, to see that pleased look on his face when he ate something he loved.

"Tank's always been a good eater," Miss Sherri said with a small smile. "That boy could put away a whole pot of greens by hisself if you let 'im."

Kayla laughed, picturing it. "He does eat a lot," she agreed.

Miss Sherri turned to look at her, her expression softer now. "You takin' good care of my boy?"

Kayla felt warmth spread through her chest at the question. "I try," she admitted. "He takes good care of me, too."

Miss Sherri nodded, satisfied with that answer. "That's all I can ask for, baby."

As the days turned into weeks, Kayla realized something—she wasn't just learning how to take care of the farm or how to cook for Tank. She was learning how to be part of a family, how to accept love without questioning it. And she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Kayla stood at the stove in a fitted nightgown, making Tank some smothered pork chops just the way Miss Sherri had taught her. The gravy was thick and seasoned just right, coating the tender chops perfectly. On the side, she had a pot of rice steaming and green beans simmering with a little smoked turkey for flavor. The house smelled amazing, a warm, homey scent that reminded her of how much she loved taking care of Tank in this way.

He had been gone for three days, taking a load up to Maryland, and she missed him more than she expected. The bed felt too big without him, the house too quiet. Even though she knew he was out making money, she hated sleeping alone now. She should've gone with him, but Tank told her to stay back since he had to pass through Richmond, and he knew that might stir up some feelings for her.

Now, though, he was fifteen minutes away, and she could barely contain her excitement. She had already taken a bath, moisturized her skin until it glowed, and slipped into something soft and fitting just for him. Tank liked coming home to her, and she liked being here for him.

Just as she finished setting the table, she heard the deep rumble of his rig pulling up the drive. Her heart skipped as she rushed to the door, swinging it open before he could even step inside.