The Man Inside the Iron Fence (The Boy in the Woods Pt. 2)

Chapter 13 - It All Comes Back to Me Now

No longer able to contain his excitement, he paid his tab at the cash register and stepped outside. The Moore's home was only seven blocks from downtown, and while he walked, he had a spring in his step. It was bitterly cold, but the sun shone bright, reflecting off the snow that had fallen the day before. With the prospect of Helen being in his life, the world around him seemed more colorful, and he felt lighter, like the weight of the world had been lifted off him.

Turning down Elm Street, he examined the house numbers until he reached the Moore's. 272 was a two-story stately Victorian befitting the owner of the single bank in town. Climbing the wood steps to the large wraparound porch, butterflies filled Jonathon's stomach, and he couldn't help grinning. The knowledge that he was about to see Helen had turned him into a nervous school boy.

He rang the door bell.

"I'll get it!" His heart leapt, hearing Helen's voice, and then door flew open. Helen's blue eyes met his, widening with surprise when she saw him. "Johnny!"

His heart hammered in his chest as he looked at her. She hadn't changed a bit from the last time he'd seen her, but somehow she seemed more stunning than ever.

"What are you doing here?"

Stupidly, he realized he was staring at her. "I - I-"

"Mr. Blackwell!" A small, wiry woman with graying brown hair appeared at Helen's side. Helen's aunt bore little resemblance to Helen, except her eyes were the same shade of blue. "Goodness me!" she exclaimed, and then gave Helen a stern look. "Where are your manners, child? Don't force the poor man to stand outside in the cold. Invite him in!"

"Yes, please come in," Helen said, stepping back and opening the door wider.

"You must be half frozen to death!" her aunt said.

"It's not that bad outside," he said with a reassuring smile.

"You remember my Aunt Irene," Helen said as she closed the door.

Jonathon realized his fedora was still on his head, and he snatched it off. "It's nice to see you again, Mrs. Moore." He held his free hand out, and her eyelashes fluttered wildly when she took it.

"It's such an honor to have you visiting our home, Mr. Blackwell," she gushed. "But I'm afraid my husband isn't here. He's gone to Chicago for a banker's meeting."

"Uh, well, as a matter of fact, I came to see Helen."

"Oh." She seemed at a loss for what to say next, and looked to Helen who appeared equally astonished.

"I'm sorry for dropping in like this," he said, when neither of them spoke. "I hope I'm not disturbing your plans."

"Not at all," Mrs. Moore said quickly. "Let me take your coat and hat. Helen, why don't you show Mr. Blackwell to the parlor? It's the warmest room in the house, isn't it, Helen?"

"Yes, it's nice in there today with the sun shining," Helen said.

Jonathon couldn't stop smiling as he followed her a short way down the hall watching her wavy blonde hair bounce as she walked. He didn't care where she took him as long as he was with her.

The Moore's parlor was crammed with overstuffed furniture covered in flowered chintz fabric. Mrs. Moore had obviously had free reign in the decorating, Jonathon thought, looking at the matching flowered curtains. It was entirely too many flowers for such a small room.

"Won't you have a seat?" Helen said motioning to the couch in front of the picture window.

He had to move several pillows out of the way before he sat. To his disappointment, Helen chose a chair on the other side of an ornately carved coffee table instead of sitting with him. He watched her smooth her skirt. Had her hands always been so pale and delicate?