“Bill? Why Bill?”
“No reason. Just the first thing I thought of. We can call him something else if?—”
“No, Bill is good. I like it.” I scratch behind the dog’s ears. “It’s nice to meet you, Bill.”
So now there are three of us living here.
Me, Mason, and Bill.
My bed is comfortable, and it’s a luxury to be able to close a door before I sleep, but I still toss and turn most of the night.
Too much has happened so quickly. The room is unfamiliar. And I keep hearing sounds from outside that surprise me.
The village is utterly quiet at night because of the enforced curfew, but here on the outskirts, I hear sounds of the farm animals and wildlife outside my window. Not loud or unpleasant noises at all. Just different.
As soon as I hear a creak of a floorboard in the morning, I jump out of bed and pull on my old gray dress and work boots. I have to wait for Mason to finish in the bathroom before I use it, but then I get ready for the day.
He told me he does morning chores before breakfast, so I head outside to find him in the barn.
He’s milking a cow, the liquid spraying into a container that’s half-pail, half-jar.
“Mornin’,” he says without turning his head. He either heard or otherwise sensed my approach. “It’ll be a couple of hours before I’m ready for breakfast.”
“Oh, I know. I was hoping to at least watch so I can start to learn how to do some things.”
He pauses from squeezing the cow’s udders and turns to look at me. “You don’t gotta do any of this. There’s plenty to do inside.”
“I know you said that, but I’d still like to learn. So, if I have extra time, I can help. Or if there’s an emergency or something.”
I don’t say it, but I’ve already made a pretty clear assessment of the domestic needs of this house. Cooking for me, Mason, and Bill will be easy compared to what I’ve been used to. Lorraine and Aria were whiny and demanding, while Mason and the dog gobble up everything without a word of complaint. Mason wears one set of clothes a day. In fact, this morning he put on the same clothes he wore yesterday. So the weekly laundry will be probably a quarter of the labor I’ve been doing. And cleaning won’t be difficult either since Mason works outside most of the day.
If I only do the inside work, I’ll have hours of spare time nearly every day. And that won’t be nearly enough to earn my keep in such a good living situation.
“Okay. If you’re sure. Don’t want you to think I took you on as a laborer or something like that.”
“I don’t think that at all. I want to learn. I can just watch for now so you don’t have to go to the trouble of teaching me.”
“I don’t mind teaching.” He motions toward a corner of the barn. “Grab that extra stool, and I’ll show you how to do this.”
In addition to milking the cows, we also feed them and the chickens and collect the eggs that were laid overnight.
I like the cows with their soft eyes and flappy tails, and I like the chickens with their feathers and industrious pecking and demanding clucks. Bill appears after a while, snuffling over near his food dish on the porch and then galloping over when he spots us so Mason can throw his bouncy ball a few times.
As Mason is letting the cows out into the pasture, I take our newly collected eggs inside as well as the pitcher of milk we reserved for today.
It’s oddly satisfying to make an omelet with a few of the eggs we gathered this morning. I slice bread for toast with butter and add the leftovers of the ham we ate for dinner last night to the omelet.
I’m plating up our breakfast when Mason comes inside to wash up and take his seat at the small table in the kitchen. I set his plate with a glass of milk in front of him, checking his expression as I do.
“That looks real good,” he says, glancing up at me. “My eggs never turn out so pretty.”
This makes me chuckle as I sit down with my plate and milk. “It just takes practice. Eggs are easy.”
“Well,” he says, holding a forkful to his mouth, “they’re easy to make edible. They’re not easy to make like this.”
I’m pleased with the compliment. And I’m pleased with how the toast and omelet taste. And I’m pleased with the hums of appreciation Mason makes as he eats.
Overall, it’s a pretty good morning.
