My parents were officially crazy. I mean, I always suspected it, but now I knew. Here I was, in a tiny trailer in the middle of nowhere, trying to cook for a bunch of men. We had no electricity, no running water, and the table that doubled as my bed was really too small for my culinary needs. As the oldest child in my family, I did most of the cooking. Not because I had to, but because I actually enjoyed it. And I was really good at it, if I do say so myself. I even enjoyed the challenge of making meals out of nothing and cooking over camp-stoves and open fire pits.
But this particular day, as I gazed out the tiny, fogged up window at the snow pouring down around us, the craziness of our situation was evident. My mom and sisters had gone to town for supplies, leaving me to cook lunch for the men who were helping Dad build our cabin. As I piled cookies on a plate to take out to the freezing guys, I looked forward to seeing Jesse, the young man my age who was helping Dad. He was fun to tease and blushed every time I spoke to him. He was also the first real friend I'd made since moving to this God-forsaken mountain. At the tender age of 16, I'd never been interested in guys and didn't plan to start now. After all, I was a good student of I Kissed Dating Goodbye and committed to my parent's plan for courtship. It was just nice to have a friend since I'd left all mine behind in Seattle.
Pulling on a heavy coat and boots, tying a scarf over my braided hair, I trudged through the deep drifts toward the building site. Arriving in a huff, I yelled up to Jesse to give me a hand. A hand reached down and grabbed the coffee, then reached down again to help me up.
Laughing, I started to say some snide remark when I suddenly looked up into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. It took me a minute to realize that I was staring into a very handsome face who was staring right back at me, amusement in his eyes. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I was suddenly very aware of my sodden skirt and hair that hadn't been washed in days. I thrust the cookies into his hands saying something to the effect of "Umm...cookies?"
I then excaped as quickly as I could. I don't remember hiking back to the trailer. But once there, I collected myself and was suddenly angry at how stupid I must've looked. I've always prided myself on being calm and in control of every situation. What in the world had come over me out there? Well, I decided, it wouldn't happen again.
As I chopped veggies for the soup, I couldn't help but see in my mind those blue, blue eyes. Who was he? I didn't remember seeing him at the little church we'd visited for several weeks now.
I was brought back to my task when, with a yelp, I sliced the end of my thumb off. Looking in horror at the blood going everywhere, I grabbed a towel and went about bandaging my wound, all the time calling myself names for not paying more attention.
I did finally get lunch finished...just in time for 5 very wet and cold guys to come trooping into the trailer. There wasn't even room to walk around them, but I managed to dish out the soup and sandwiches. Noticing my bloody bandage, my dad asked me what happened. I nonchalantly told him, brushing it off and trying to look tough. I was also trying very hard not to notice the presence of Mr. Blue Eyes, but not being very successful. Jesse introduced him to me as "my best friend, Sky". Sky, huh? A fitting name for one with such blue eyes.
As they filed out to get back to work, Sky turned and quietly said, "Thank you for lunch; it was very good."
"You're welcome," I replied with my signature smile.
"I hope your thumb's OK," he said.
"Eh, it'll be fine," I brushed off his concern.
He left, but as I cleaned up after them, I couldn't help but think of him. He seemed nice. Quiet, but nice. I wondered if I would see him again. Not that it mattered, I told my sister's teddy bear, who was looking at me mockingly.
That day, I made up many excuses to visit the building site.
To Be Continued.....Part 2