Come June [ h.s. ]

11

11
.

Eileen sat in her chair by the window, staring out at the thick morning rain. She breathed a sigh of relief at the thought of not having to water the tulips. It was Saturday, and despite her usual enjoyment of the activity, she didn't feel like doing much at all.

They hadn't spoken for a few days.

It was hard not to think about him, especially after the way he had treated her. There was a part of her that wanted to be angry, but she knew better than to give in to it-- Eileen realized that at the end of the day, he was alone in a new house, in a new town. A situation like that would be difficult for anyone and she was in no place to be judgmental.

Perhaps her earlier suspicions had been correct, and he was shaken up from something else entirely.

But what could that be?

What could've gotten him so agitated?

With her head resting against the palm of her hand, she was surprised as Hickory jumped into her lap and nudged his face soothingly against her robe. For a house cat he was overtly affectionate, and completely devoted to her, especially when she wasn't feeling right.

"Hello, friend." She smiled and planted a light kiss to his forehead. "I'm suppose you're hungry, aren't you?"

Scooping him into her arms, she rose slowly from her chair and delicately placed him on the loveseat (It was the same spot where Harry had been only a few weeks ago, sipping tea and eating rum cake). The rain made everything feel cooler, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as she padded barefoot across the floor.

Maybe keeping herself busy would take her mind off things. That's what she repeated to herself, at least, as she proceeded to fill Hickory's bowl and assemble a quick breakfast for herself.

The clock read eight-thirty.

"What can I do until ten?" she muttered, patting at her thighs in a nervous fashion. "I have to shower, finish the arrangements, load the truck..."

The Saturday market was a big deal for Eileen, mostly because she did everything herself. For a gangly woman with virtually no arm strength, loading crates of tulips into the back of her pickup was as exhausting as it was unpleasant. She often showed up with dirt covering her arms, or streaked across the sleeves of her jacket; but it didn't bother her too much.

She was simple.

There wasn't much that could shake her.

It was for this reason, in fact, that she'd already found it in her heart to forgive Harry for the way he'd acted. Maybe there was something that was truly hurting him; and she had indeed caught him at a bad time, when he couldn't think clearly.

He might've simply disliked her.

But even if that was a possibility, she couldn't seem to believe it-- there was something about the way he looked at her, and the glint in his eyes when he talked about sunrises, that made her think otherwise.

The toaster went off behind her and she jumped.

After rummaging through the cupboards (and re-opening them for absolutely no good reason, other than force of habit) she grabbed some peanut butter and honey and spread that on. Hickory had occupied himself next to his silver bowl, leaving her alone to finish breakfast and start her tasks for the day.