Rehabbing My Heart

Author's note: The working title when I was in draft was "The Rehab". Then I stumbled on the excellent story of that title by Literotica writer DreamCloud. If fixing things and smooching turns you on, I recommend you read that -- after you finish this of course.

Prologue

As funerals go, it was a good time. My great-uncle Phil had lived to 94, and he had been a much-loved family member, almost a second grandfather to me and my cousins. He'd outlived Aunt Betty by about ten years, and they'd never had kids after Betty had a bad miscarriage. He was kind and funny and generous to friends and family. All of us felt like his kids, four generations from seniors to babies. It was kind of a family reunion as we all got together and reminisced.

The flight back was a puddle-jumper out of Erie International, a small airport that called itself "international" because there were flights to Toronto and Montreal. Then I had a nine-hour layover in Detroit, which is the kind of scheduling you get if you have to make plans on short notice.

I was hanging around at my future departure gate in the Detroit airport, having finished a shitty $15 turkey sandwich and the paperback I'd bought. Six more hours before I could even get on the plane, and I wasn't going to be home until well after midnight.

The gate agents had seen me sitting there throughout two cycles of deplaning, then new passengers lining up and boarding. One came over to me. "You're going to Denver?"

"Yes, I'm on 833 at 9:40 tonight. But my connection from Erie flies only once a day, so I've been here since noon."

"We fly to Denver six times a day. I can put you on the standby list, no charge. You would be freeing up a space in case somebody is late, and given the weather over Atlanta there will definitely be some delays in the system."

That sounded fine to me, so I gave them my name and let them scan my boarding pass into their computers. There wasn't room on the 3:10, but a space was open on the next flight at 4:42, next gate down. I was going to get home at a reasonable hour!

I decided to surprise Todd with an early arrival and a fun evening, so I didn't tell him. Instead, I sat at the gate and fantasized about how much fun we could have in the "bonus" five hours. I'd pick up a bottle of our favorite white wine, we could sit on the couch, snuggled under an afghan, and watch a movie while our hands got busy underneath. Or we could take a long, steamy shower, probably together, and then "not bother to get dressed" after. Or we could just hop into bed directly. Three days isn't exactly long enough to feel really deprived, but I missed my fiance and was getting pretty horny for him.

The flight was uneventful and I nearly texted Todd when we landed, but remembered in time to not spoil the fun surprise I'd planned. I ransomed my car from the parking ramp and went home.

When I got back to our condo, I got a not-at-all-fun surprise. There was an empty wine bottle and two glasses in the living room. And there was a bra on the couch. It was not my bra. I could have fit both my B cups into one side of that thing. It smelled of perfume and pit-stick.

I heard an alarm sound upstairs - it was nine o'clock on the nose. Todd's voice said something, and then I heard a woman's voice. That utter bastard. I quickly shoved the bra under a seat cushion, then slammed the front door and called out "Todd! I'm back!" in as welcome-home a tone as I could muster.

"Emily! Be down in a sec!" Todd came trotting down the stairs in his pajamas and came over to welcome me home with a kiss.

I stopped him. "You asshole." He froze. "I don't want to know anything. I don't want to hear anything. I'll get my stuff out by the end of the week. Fuck you, fuck moving to Texas, and fuck getting married."

I yelled upstairs. "He's all yours now, the weasel. You can come down now. Your bra is in the couch cushions, by the way."

An attractive, buxom, and clearly braless woman was coming down the stairs, buttoning her blouse and saying, "Todd! Who the hell is Emily?"

"I'm Emily. I live here, and until a few minutes ago, I was Todd's fiancee."

I guess Todd had been lying to her, too, because her face turned white and then red. She slapped him and said, "You bastard. Don't call, don't text, don't email. We're done." She stomped into the living room and retrieved her bra.

On the way out, she had the decency to apologize to me. I couldn't hate her after that. Todd broke down crying, "I love you!"

I looked at her, she at me. "Which one of us, you cheating snake?" Couldn't have said it better myself.

It would have been awkward leaving at the same time as what's-her-face, so I stayed just long enough to take my most important possessions and make arrangements to get the rest later. I took my suitcase and went to look for a motel, to cry myself to sleep. Four years with Todd. Visions of growing old together, maybe a family, were gone.

Within a week, I'd found a new normal. I was in an efficiency apartment in a student neighborhood, not the nicest place but it was available. Most of my belongings were in a storage locker, I'd canceled all the wedding reservations for venue, caterer, etcetera. I'd gotten utilities set up in my name - fuck Todd if they wound up turning off service at the old place after I canceled. I set up mail forwarding, all those things you normally do when moving. And, thank God, I had gotten a clean STD test at Planned Parenthood. I worked mostly remotely so all I needed for an "office" was electricity and Wi-Fi, no hassles about that.

My friends and family were all terribly sympathetic, of course. Maybe more regretful than I was, even. I was shocked, angry, and heartbroken of course. But I was also relieved to have found out about Todd's unfaithfulness before the wedding. At least now we wouldn't need lawyers involved.

~~~~~~

In April, I got a phone call. "Emily Rassom?"

"Yes, who is this?" The number was a Pennsylvania area code, with the caller ID saying just 'Deere & Massey.'

"Ms. Rassom, I'm Julie Stanton with Deere & Massey. We're the law firm handling the estate of Philip Rassom, who I believe was your great-uncle?"

"Yes, Uncle Phil."

"I'm calling because we had mail returned. A registered letter can't be forwarded, and so we need your current address. There are documents you'll need to sign regarding your inheritance."

"My what?" Had Uncle Phil left me something?

"Yes, you'll need to sign this in the presence of a notary. It's the title deed for the property at... no address given - a lakefront sector off County Road 21 in Sherman Township."

"Uncle Phil left me his cabin? I thought they'd sold it years ago."

"Evidently not. It will be yours as soon as the title is transferred. At that point you may sell it yourself or fix it up. There are some details we'll go over when you get out here. The property taxes have been paid by an escrow account Mr. Rassom set up, which has grown fairly significantly.

By the middle of May, I was officially a property owner in the state of Pennsylvania. This was a little awkward, since I lived in Denver and you can't exactly drive halfway across the country for a relaxing weekend at the cabin. I'd need to go look at the place, see if the childhood memories it brought back were strong enough that I'd want to keep it, or if selling it was the better option. I made plans to go out there in June, and emailed Ms. Stanton to find out what kind of work might be needed.

A week before my arrival, Ms. Stanton went out to look the place over and send me pictures. She didn't know anything about the inside, not having brought a key. The lot was overgrown and full of branches as the surrounding forest tried to reclaim it. The house appeared structurally sound, but badly in need of paint and maintenance.

I made plans to go to Erie and rent a car at the airport. Ms. Stanton and I would meet at her office, I'd sign some more papers to make me an official Pennsylvania taxpayer, and she'd give me the key.

Monday, June 24

I had a red-eye flight to Detroit so I could catch the 8:30 puddle-jumper to Erie. On the plane, I dozed and reminisced.

When I was a little kid, Mom and Dad would take us to Uncle Phil's cabin every summer. It was a rustic, lakeside cottage with an old outhouse and a bathroom added on after the septic tank had been put in. We could canoe on the lake if an adult was along, and there was a big boathouse, the size of a two-car garage, that also held a motorboat. Uncle Phil and Aunt Betty used to have sand trucked in every few summers to replenish the beach, which was great for swimming but tended to erode back to the rocky shore that was on either side of our little cove. Many, many fond memories of going on the long drive northeast of Pittsburgh to the hilly areas of north-central Pennsylvania, down an endless two-lane road that twisted and turned enough that my little brother got carsick and once puked in the back seat. Along that road, every half-mile or so, a dirt driveway led off to vacation resorts, summer cabins like my uncle's, and a few places where, I supposed, people lived all year.

We only went a few times after Aunt Betty passed away. In part it was because we were getting old enough to have our own interests and in part because with Uncle Phil's aging, it was no longer the boisterous family time it had been. It was too remote to have many playmates in the neighborhood, and my other, older cousins were scattered all over the country, married with babies or preschoolers. The cabin became an occasional weekend retreat, usually only occupied by one family or none. Once I'd gotten my driver's license, I'd been allowed to drive there first with family and then a few times solo.

~~~

I met Ms. Stanton at her office at about 11:30. She was no more than a couple years older than me, dressed in a nice skirt-suit that could work in a courtroom or as formal office wear. Like a lawyer, in other words. Her curly blond hair was tied tightly back from her face but escaped from her hair tie to a loose poof of a ponytail.

She stuck her head into a partner's office and spoke for a moment, then came back to the reception area. "Mr. Rassom was a long-time client of the firm and was personal friends with Mr. Deere Senior, one of the founding partners. Mr. Deere Junior says bend over backwards for you. So I get to buy you lunch, on Deere & Massey's account."

That seemed like a good idea. We went to the fanciest place in town, an Italian joint called Torelli's that had a big pizza and take-out trade and a few tables with red-checked tablecloths and candles jammed into wicker-basketed wine bottles. No one else wanted to eat in on a weekday lunch, so we got good table service.

"First off, please call me Julie instead of Ms. Stanton. The boss said be nice to you, and I take that to mean we can relax the formality a little, if that's okay with you."

"Of course. And call me Emily, if you like. Had you ever met Uncle Phil?"

"Only once, when he came to Mr. Deere Senior's retirement party about ten or so years ago. I'd just started at the firm, so hadn't heard the stories and so forth."

"Stories and so forth?"

"Apparently your uncle, or I guess great-uncle, had lived in Sherman and the surrounding area most of his life except when he was in the Army, so there's decades of history and hi-jinks. He was loved and respected by everybody who knew him, and he was a common sight around town until his memory started to go."

"That would have been about when my great-aunt passed away. I could tell he was slipping even then, at the funeral. We kind of tapered off the family vacations up here after I went off to college. I don't know if anybody has been out to the cottage much since, besides your visit."

"Very possibly not. We'll take a look, and see if you decide to sell it or invest in fixing it up. There is a proviso in the will for repair and maintenance funds."

"What?"

"Property taxes for the place were paid by an escrow account that Mr. Rassom set up decades ago. It has grown substantially over the years. The terms of the will state that the money in escrow may only be used for this property -- in other words, taxes, utilities, repairs, improvements, and maintenance -- and that if the property is sold the escrow money goes to the Sherman Township Park Foundation. You, as legal title owner, may choose to sell and keep the proceeds from the sale itself. If you don't draw it down, you get your taxes paid pretty painlessly."

"I don't know if I could bring myself to sell. There are a ton of childhood memories associated with summers there. If the main cabin is livable, I'll try to work on it."

We drove out to the cabin, and as the trees went by it seemed like the years did, too. I could have been eight, building sand castles, and learning to swim out to the floating dock in water that was over my head. Or thirteen, sunning in my first "real" bikini. Or eighteen... that was a different memory.

~~~~

The long gravel driveway was full of leaves and more than a little overgrown, but the tracks Julie had made earlier this week were still visible in the crushed grass and little shrubs she'd run over. When we got to the turnaround at the end, the sight was familiar- the almost barn-like shape of the roof line, the big French doors that led to the porch overlooking the lake. But a lot had changed. The float was gone, and all the sand had washed away off the rocky shore. The yard was overgrown with ferns and brambles and full of sticks and leaves and a few fallen trees and big limbs. The place desperately needed paint and plenty of yard work and cleaning.

Inside, the cottage was in decent condition except for a lot of dust and a squirrel skeleton by the glass door. The poor thing must have gotten in somehow and not found its way out. It didn't smell of dead animal, though, so it must have died long ago. Nothing was left but bones and some fur on what used to be the tail. There was no power or propane, of course, but the county had run water lines out this road at some point, so at least we didn't have to rely on bottled water. After opening all the taps and running the water a few minutes, the rust and sediment had been purged and the water ran clear.

We made a list of the chores and repairs needed, photographing anything that might need a professional.

Back at my motel, I started organizing the list. It was a lot of jobs from small (remove squirrel skeleton) to big, but no single chore looked overwhelming. And fortunately, there wasn't any one thing really expensive, at least not yet. I also worked on a shopping list. Cleaning supplies. Kerosene for the old hurricane lamps. Rubber gloves and work gloves. A brush saw and pruning clippers. Food. A cooler to keep it fresh? I'd have to get the electricity turned back on and arrange for a propane tank delivery. Soap and shampoo. Toilet paper.

It was a million things, but it was real and tangible, not the million virtual things that piled up in my career. And it was going to cost me, instead of paying me. And it was my place, as a child and now again in reality.

But there were a lot of things I couldn't do, because they were big jobs or because they needed skills and tools I didn't have. No way would I be operating a chainsaw on the fallen trees, not by myself and not without someone teaching me.

And I could never recapture the pride I had the summer I first swam all the way out to the dock by myself. It was maybe forty feet, but to my child eyes it could have been a mile. And I could never bring back the ghost stories Uncle Phil told around the fire pit. Or the teenage summers, filled with the rebellious romance of starry nights, sharing an illicit bottle with friends and sometimes boys.

But I could make it my own, preserving the charm of the old place and updating what needed it. Like the refrigerator that had probably been made during the Nixon presidency. Other appliances? I couldn't test them without electricity.

I emailed my task list to Julie, asking her if she knew of any businesses that I could hire to help. She called back not long after. Unfortunately, most of the local firms were solidly booked at the tourist resorts keeping everything running, and others were only looking for bigger jobs. "Good luck hiring a contractor around here, especially on short notice. And none of them will let you 'help' to save money - too much liability risk. But my brother just got - just got back to town and is looking for work. He's pretty handy and of course I trust him to work hard and give good value. I'll see if he'd be interested in this kind of odd job work."

Tuesday, June 25

At 9:02 the next morning, my iPhone gave the silent buzz of a blocked unknown caller. Half a minute later, it gave the voicemail beep so I knew it wasn't spam. I listened:

"Hi, um, Emily. This is Jim Stanton. My sister said you might be looking for some help with your great-uncle's property. I'm, ahh, between jobs and could use a little income and some manual work in the fresh air. I have a pickup and some landscaping tools we can use. Call me, we'll meet at the coffee shop in her building so she can introduce us. Bye."

He hadn't left his number, but the phone had stored it. We made plans to meet at ten.

~~~~

Jimmy

~~~~

My sister called me last night. "Jimmy! I have a client who needs to hire a handyman. Interested?"

Yeah, I was interested. Julie filled me in on the client and the job. It was a woman who'd inherited one of the many lakefront cabins and wanted to hire a helper to return the property to good condition. She couldn't hire a contractor and wanted to do as much as possible herself both to save money and because it was her place and she felt the pride of ownership.

Julie assured me this lady was clever and motivated. "She made a pretty big list of tasks, mostly basic yard and house cleanup. There will probably be more things to work on as you progress, but the cabin itself seems sound and livable."

"I need a job like that to bring me out of the prison mindset. Day after day of the same routine, following orders, never doing anything tangible. Making decisions, seeing results? I miss that." Ever since I'd been released from the minimum-security prison at Cambridge Springs, I'd been looking for work. I'd been out of prison for twenty-four days, and after visiting all the restaurants I'd missed, I was feeling like I needed to build my own routines from the bottom up. And nobody was interested in hiring an MBA who wasn't legally allowed to use the skills implied by their degree.

"But wait. I'm a big guy, and can look a little scary. No sane young woman is going to hire an ex-con to go to a lonely cabin. Can you introduce me, put her at ease?"

"Of course, kid. From the outside, you don't look like my smart, funny, sensitive little brother. I see your point, no way I'd be comfortable if some stranger who looked like you approached me without my knowing who they were."

We arranged it that I'd call and talk to this woman - Emily - and if she was willing to consider hiring me we could meet near Julie's office and discuss terms. Julie emailed me the list and I promised to call her in the morning.

At nine sharp I picked up my phone and called the number in Julie's email. No answer, so I left a message. She called back almost immediately, and it sounded doable so we set up a meeting for ten. I called Julie, who told me to be there at quarter of so she could brief me more and so her client could see us interacting, which we both figured would put her at ease.

~~~~

Emily

~~~~

I got to the coffee shop a couple minutes before ten, and spotted Julie at a table with her brother. They were chatting and joshing like family, but it was the resemblance that gave them away as kin. Julie's bushy blond hair, so tightly contained for a work look, was set free on Jimmy to form a mane like a lion's, a little darker than hers. And her businesslike square jaw was well suited on a man's facial structure, where it looked more rugged. But where Julie was trim and feminine, her brother was anything but. He had a physique that said many hours of weightlifting were in his past.

Julie hadn't told me her brother was a hunk.

I composed myself and walked over to sit with them. Julie introduced us, and Jim stood to shake my hand, very gentlemanly. "James Stanton, ma'am. Jim to most people, Jimmy to my friends." We sat down. "Julie showed me the task list you made, looks like a heck of a lot of work. Probably take a professional crew of six to get it cleared in less than a week, and that's if they brought in a Bobcat to clear the brush. That could set you back ten, fifteen grand easy. More if you need a skilled trade like a plumber or electrician to get problems up to code."

"None of the places I called would even come out to write an estimate for me. Everybody's booked until October. And the lowest anybody suggested was minimum twenty-five thousand, half down now and 'we'll get to it after tourist season'. I can't lay out the kind of cash new buyers can - but I love the place too much to sell even for the crazy money that's being offered."

"Okay, how about this. Julie says one of the conditions is that you want to save money by doing some of it yourself. If you are a hard worker, you'll save a lot. I'll work for you on a daily rate, plus you buy all the supplies and groceries. I promise I'll outwork you, we won't quit for the day until you decide to. If we get it done in a couple of weeks because we work hard and nothing bad comes up, you'll have gotten a heck of a bargain with your sweat equity. If you want to take it easier and it takes a month, well, you're paying."

"That's pretty much what I had in mind. Of course there is a lot of just manual labor, but are you going to be able to do more specialized things, fixing plumbing leaks or troubleshooting appliances?"

"Well, I don't have the state licenses you need to do building-permit work, but I can work to code for most jobs, so the licensed tradesman can just check it and sign off."

"Jimmy's modest. He can fix darn near anything, or tell you why it can't be done. And he means it when he says he'll outwork you. Even as a little kid, when three years age difference meant a lot, he would try to keep up with the bigger kids, and never be the slacker."

"Sounds good to me. Jim, how about a hundred fifty a day, plus lunch and beer afterward?"

"We can work longer days if the place is livable. How about one-fifty, plus all the meals as long as we work both before and after, like the old traveling hired hands used to do for farm work." He smiled. "Also, you can call me Jimmy."

"Jimmy, don't sell yourself too cheaply," Julie interjected. "He's trying to negotiate to work probably twelve or fifteen hours a day, instead of eight or ten, for two more meals."

"Well, yeah, sis, just trying to give the best value for old Mr. Rassom's kin. It's the kind of project I need - physically tiring, but not so mentally demanding. It will be tangible progress, which I think will be fulfilling for me. And, don't freak out, Emily, I do have a felony record."

"What!?" How could this honest, intelligent, and yes, good-looking man be a criminal?

"It was a plea bargain. Jimmy's business partner had been embezzling, paying off gambling debts. He fudged the accounting, lied to Jimmy, and Jimmy signed off."

"I guess I didn't look carefully enough. He was skimming very cleverly, but if I sign a document I have a duty to make sure it's true. I screwed up, not as bad as Mick did, but I guess bad enough to deserve prison. I plea bargained and testified against Mick. He got ten years, I was sentenced to twelve to fourteen months. Good behavior cut it to eight, and I was paroled in late May. Part of the plea bargain is that I never work in financial advising or any fiduciary role ever again. There were some very stressful situations in that job, so I don't miss it.

"Right now, what I need is an opposite to the endlessness and claustrophobia of being in jail. A tangible, big-but-finite, physically demanding outdoor job seems like the perfect antidote to restore my soul."

Months ago, I had put in for three weeks of vacation, June 29th would have been my wedding date so I had planned the prior week for planning and two more for a honeymoon. I didn't cancel the vacation after Todd cheated, so I would be free even from remote work for a while. I could spend the time here, no distractions, just getting the place set up again.

"Not a murderer? Okay, you're hired. Can we start today, full day's pay? We need to start by buying a lot of supplies, and getting electricity and water and a propane tank set up."

~~~~

The electric company was easy -- on-line access, set up billing, truck will be out in two days. Water was even easier, as it was already connected. The city ran that and Julie's office was less than a block from the city complex. It was already on, so we just had to update the billing info. The propane for the stove and water heater looked to be a different story, but Jimmy knew his way around town and schmoozed with the propane dealer, who agreed to come out the next daand inspect the tank and lines for an extra hundred if it was good, or the sale of a new tank if it wasn't.

Next up was the local grocery for cleaning supplies and food -- and a cooler and bags of ice to last at least until the utility came and hooked up the electricity. My credit card was getting a workout.

Jimmy followed me out to the cabin in his pickup. We parked and he got out, looking around at the grounds and the exterior of the house. He checked the propane tank and fittings, said they would pass, and peeked in the window of the old boathouse, which now held nothing but the debris from decades of birds nesting in the rafters. And the memory of a first kiss, that magical adolescent time. After Todd's betrayal, I felt as dry and dusty and empty as that boathouse was now. But that memory flooded back when I looked in at the space that used to be hung with life-jackets, rows of fishing poles and oars and paddles, a canoe hanging from the rafters and a motorboat in the water.

After a good look around outside, I brought him in, showed him around. The cabin has a big, high-ceiling living room with a huge picture window and French doors. There's a bathroom and kitchen in a wing to one side and two bedrooms on the other side. When I was little, we'd all camp out in the living room, leaving the bedrooms to the grownups. Later, the older kids were allowed to pitch tents on the deck.

There were still sheets and towels, but of course the mattresses and pillows were terribly musty. "I doubt you could air that out in a year. Let's get anything else with musty upholstery, to air or to replace. Lemme grab some dust masks before we disturb too much." We dragged them on to the deck, just to get them outside. There was no way I'd be using those. Hopefully the washer in the bathroom would still be functional -- if we had utilities.

I was stressed and exhausted, and I guess it showed. "I got an air mattress in storage if you want to use it. I can go get it, be back in an hour, or there's a hammock rolled up in the toolbox of my truck." Jimmy shrugged sympathetically. "That's if you want to stay, instead of going back to the motel. I think if we start now, we can get things cleaned up in here before dark."

"Let's try it. There are hooks on the deck railing we can sling the hammock on, if it's too bad inside."

With that said, we set to work. After putting on dust masks, we started sweeping and dusting. There was enough breeze to help freshen the rooms and blow out the dusty stale air, so we opened all the windows. Then we set to work washing down the heavily-varnished log walls. Thank goodness the water was already on, because we had to rinse and wring out our dust rags dozens of times. The buckets of clear water quickly became murky brown, and when they were really bad we'd take them outside and pour them out over the balcony.

Soon enough, we were coincidentally both going out at the same time. We glanced at each other and did a big ceremonial pour at the same time, then grinned. From then on, we'd go to dump our buckets at the same time. It developed into a pantomime where we'd parade out to the balcony and pour -- then later fling -- the murky water down onto the leafy ground below. And the smiles we exchanged were of a shared mission that we were accomplishing, and being amused at just how filthy we were getting. Jimmy was smudged, with dust sticking to his skin from perspiration and occasional clean streaks where a sweat droplet rinsed his temples. I knew I looked pretty much the same.

We'd finished one bedroom and most of the living room as the sun began to set over the lake. The place was at least nominally habitable, for tonight, and I was sweaty and exhausted.

"Enough, for now at least. It's going to be a long twilight at this time of year, but I need a beer and a shower."

"Okay, boss lady. My sister promised you I'd work until you're ready to quit. But I'm not disappointed that you've declared you're ready to stop." Jimmy put his rag in the bucket. "There's no hot water of course, but even a cold shower would be better than the mud I've built up. If I look anything like you, we could have been digging ditches all day."

"Probably." I got the roll of paper towels and wiped down my face, noting how much dirt was on the towel. I took another couple sheets and handed him the roll, then went to the kitchen to wet them down.

Jimmy wiped his face a little, then headed into the bathroom. I heard the shower running and was torn between wanting a shower soon or wanting hot water back at my motel.

I settled for rinsing my arms and my head with the spray nozzle at the kitchen sink. We'd have to mop the floor anyway, so I didn't care if I dripped on it. The water was invigorating on my face, but I was leery of putting my whole body in there. That made me think of Jimmy, standing in the shower nude. Yeesh. Where did that idea come from? And it also made me realize that I wouldn't want to have him thinking of me standing nude in the shower -- I'd known the guy for only a day, and he had after all been in jail.

I heard the shower stop, and hollered through the door, "There's beer in the cooler. Come sit on the deck with me when you're dressed." The Adirondack chairs were paintless and silvery with age, but still sturdy. Evening drinks on the deck had been a grownup tradition at the cabin forever. And sneaking a midnight beer on the deck had been a teenage tradition just as long. This I know for a fact, because Mom told me she'd done the same when she caught me out there at sixteen. "One. Only one, and behave yourselves." This was the first time I'd been to the cabin as a legal adult -- it had been at least that long, so now I could carry on the tradition.

Jimmy came out wearing just his jeans, and carrying his freshly rinsed T-shirt in one hand and a can of beer in the other. "What a view!" The red sun was just beginning to dip behind the trees half a mile away across the lake. He gave one of the chairs an experimental shake to make sure it was sturdy, then sat. "Um, are you okay with my shirt being off? I can put it back on if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I've seen shirtless guys before. Relax." Maybe it was a day of hard work together, maybe it was the reminiscing, maybe it was that Jimmy's torso was fairly pleasant to look at. But I kind of didn't want him to put it back on. "Was the shower okay?"

"If you mean does it work, yeah, it does, but the shower head is a little clogged. Really cold, of course, but I needed a cold shower after today." Jimmy sipped his beer and gazed at the red-gold sunset reflected in the ripples on the quiet lake. "That reminds me, though, we ought to get the septic tank checked. Hate to have it collapse when you're walking across it."

"Um. No, I really wouldn't like that. Or just having it clogged or whatever. Do you know a good company?"

"Sure. We'll call Dill's Sewer & Septic. Brian Dill was on the same Little League team as me, and is working with, in preperation for taking over, his father's business. It might be the one industry around here where summer is a slow time -- most of their seasonal work is when people are opening cabins in spring or closing them in the fall."

"Do you know everybody in town?"

"I know a lot of people in my age bracket, just from growing up here. And of course plenty of my childhood friends have moved away, to Pittsburgh or Buffalo or farther. I'm grateful to the people of this town for the forgiveness they've shown me since I got back from being in prison. I'm just glad they understand that I was also a victim of that weasel Mick, and have given me a chance to rebuild my life here."

"I understand if you don't want to talk about things, but I do appreciate your confidence in sharing with me. And having your connections with local businesses means everything is smoother than if I was trying to do this on my own."

"I'm going to head back into town before it's dark. Do you want me to help set up the hammock?"

"No, I want to go back to the motel for a proper hot shower, and get on to hunting for a new mattress and pillows. After your friend gets the propane hooked up so we can cook and have hot water, that's another story."

"Sounds good. What about tomorrow?"

"What about tomorrow? Same as today, I expect. Cleaning and fixing up inside, then exterior, then the grounds."

"I mean when?"

"Tell you what -- let's get breakfast, 7:30, in that diner next door to the motel. We can plan out what we need to do in town and maybe set goals."

We drove separately back to town, where Jimmy went back to his sister's while I showered the gunk off me. The brownish-gray water sluicing off as I soaped up was the same gray-brown shade as the mop buckets. I toweled off and collapsed into bed in panties and T-shirt, falling asleep almost instantly.

Wednesday, June 26

At 7:00 the alarm on my phone roused me from a dream about teenage me sunning -- and showing off my bikini bod -- on the long-gone float as boys from nearby cabins came around to preen and flex. It was a dream of sweet adolescent yearning, with all the vaguely foggy thoughts of teen sex colliding with the awkwardness of rumor.

The teen population in summertime had some regulars, like our family, who were there most of the time. And Uncle Phil was a genial host for our gatherings, not prone to cranky-old-man temper and tolerant of harmless transgressions. Thus, our cabin was, for a few years, the social center for our set. So many romantic firsts here. My first kiss. Mike something-or-other from a few cabins down. He had braces and his lips were chapped and sunburned, but he was what adolescent me had thought was cute. It was a dare, and we were both mortified. Later, first explorations of petting, and ultimately my first time having sex, out on the float, in the moonlight. That was the summer before college, when I was 18 and first allowed to be here without grownups.

That sweet memory was still on my mind as I brushed my hair and dressed in work clothes, this time remembering to throw a change of clothes into my bag. I headed out and across the parking lot to the diner, where I saw Jimmy's truck.

When I came in, a matronly waitress saw me and grabbed a coffee mug before I'd even gotten to the booth where Jimmy was. I guess the small-town grapevine had publicized that I'd inherited "the old Rassom place" and hired Jimmy to help fix it. As I slid in across from Jimmy, she parked the coffee and a menu in front of me.

"Special this morning is the Denver omelet. Need a minute?"

"Nope, that sounds good. Whole-wheat toast, too, please, and a small orange juice."

"Coming up, hon." She gave me a smile and took the menu away.

Jimmy and I discussed a priority list for the cabin: making it livable, getting utilities connected, and replacing whatever furniture was too far gone to save. I had a four-day booking at the motel, but really hoped I wouldn't need the last day, so ordering a new mattress was a top priority.

By eight, we were nearly done with food and with planning. Jimmy had a neat outline for each of the main categories we'd need to work on. I was impressed and told him so. "Well, you learn some project-management stuff in business school. At least I'm allowed to do that." Was it me, or was I imagining a slightly wistful sound to the last sentence?

"That's going to be super helpful." I wanted to say more, to get a look at the man inside. I know he was only in a minimum-security correctional facility and not Alcatraz, but jail is jail, and it had taught him to be closed off. For now, I was glad of the help and not about to pry.

"If you want to leave your car here, I can drive you around. I texted Dill about the septic tank and he can come out Friday, assuming no emergencies. He said we'd be fine that long, the tank would likely be pretty empty if it hasn't been used for years. And the propane guy is coming this afternoon. So you'll have at least hot water and the stove."

"Great, I can make do with kerosene lamps and candles for a day or two. When I was about ten or eleven, there was a big storm and the power was off for a day and a night. It felt like the pioneers. No problem. I do need to get a mattress though, and have the old ones hauled away."

"We can haul it, if you're willing to pay the $10 fee the county dump charges. Might have to, if we can't get a delivery way out there." He rubbed a hand through his curly mane. "Maybe you should look on-line while we're still in town with good WiFi. Otherwise, we'll have to go to Erie to the Furniture Mart."

I did that, and placed an order. I wound up ordering two sets, replacing both mattresses and box springs, so as not to have to pay the $100 delivery fee twice (free delivery only in the Erie metro area) and because the "free" disposal was limited to removing stuff for which we'd bought replacements. But the "good WiFi" part was troubling. Out in the countryside, we only had cell phone internet, and of course there was no landline, it had been disconnected for years. Uncle Phil had never gotten cable, so it wasn't going to be an option to get service that way. If I were to try to actually move in and work from here, I'd need to do something about that. Not yet, though.

We headed over to the cabin and got right back to work, me finishing wiping dirt off the walls and Jimmy inspecting the propane connections from tank to stove and to the hot-water heater. He pronounced them safe "as far as I can tell", then checked the fuse box to make sure we wouldn't burn the place down when the electricity came back on. He unplugged everything he could find in case something had been left switched on, and shut off power to the rest of the circuits. "That way, if there is something wrong, hopefully we can find it sooner rather than later."

Working together quietly and efficiently, we finished wiping years of dusty grime off every surface we could reach. It was every bit as dirty and sweaty as it had been yesterday. When, finally, we finished, I declared a swim break. I didn't care that we had no swimsuits -- I wasn't about to swim nude around this guy (why did my brain think of that?) but going in fully dressed would be fine- we'd dry off in the afternoon and it would get our clothes rinsed too.

I could tell something similar was going through Jimmy's mind, too, as he looked over at me and blushed. "Fully dressed?"

"Well of course! We are not skinny-dipping together. And it will rinse the dirt off our clothes, too." It was hot, so we were both in fairly baggy shorts that could have passed as swim trunks anyway. I plowed through the overgrown path, took off my shoes and socks and stepped carefully out on the big rocks that were the natural shoreline at this part of the lake. Once I was out deep enough, I crouched down, leaned forward, and roll-dived into the cool lake waters. By sheer muscle memory I swam a few strokes under water and popped my head up just about in the right place to climb the little aluminum ladder to the float. Of course, said float was long gone, lost, stolen, scrapped, or sunk I have no clue. I wondered about looking for a replacement -- but not this year.

I looked around for Jimmy and didn't see him until he bobbed up about six feet away. He'd come on the same stepping stones as I had and swum out to me. He shook the water out of his hair, and I giggled. He looked like a sheepdog, and I told him so.

"Or a golden-doodle, except that's not a very macho name for a dog breed."

I kept it to myself that it wouldn't matter if he had a non-macho name. Both because that's a dumb concept and because he could have been named Pink Rainbow Fairy Princess and still have kept the fit, competent, and -- okay -- handsome masculinity.

"Let's go get a sandwich and get back to work." I needed to distract myself.

"Yeah, we'll get the kitchen ready to use. I hope the refrigerator still works, but we'll find out when the power gets turned on again."

We swam freestyle back to the shore and waded out through the rocks. The early-summer air was warm on our drying clothes. I noticed how Jimmy's T-shirt was clinging to his torso, and had to repress the thought that that somehow looked even better than his bare, freshly-showered chest had last night. And then I glanced down to see that my boring utilitarian bra and T-shirt were clinging to me the same way. And the cooling fabric was making my nipples poke -- well, maybe temperature wasn't the only reason.

I stepped up to the deck and yelled "Want a beer?" turning so my torso was angled to give some shadow definition to my boobs. Was I beginning to actually flirt with this guy? Well, if I was, I was going to show off more. I turned my back to him, straightened my legs, and bent over the cooler in what could be interpreted as a pinup pose before grabbing a couple cans out of the icy water and standing up again. If he wanted to ogle my ass, that's fair payback for the torso I got to see.

I slapped together a couple of sandwiches (salami and Swiss on wheat) for us and brought him one at the picnic table. He set down his beer and thanked me, and we ate quietly for a while.

"So you used to come up here pretty much every summer? I would think I'd remember you, I'm only a couple years younger than you, and we'd hang around with summer people."

"I sort of remember your sister -- she was one of the cool "older kids" -- but we were in different social circles and maybe you remember how kids are sometimes cliquey. But I didn't know her well and nothing about her family. And my little brother just isn't very social."

"Well, nice to meet you, Emily, whether it's the first time or not. I was right about thinking this work is exactly what I needed. And I appreciate working with you. No bullshit, no games, no attitude." He paused a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest there was any hint of that. But..."

"It's OK. You got screwed over by your embezzling business partner and had to go to jail and had your career ruined. Being leery is to be expected."

"It's not just that." He sighed and blinked slowly. "Before all this, I was married. Suzie and I met in college, and she was the woman I first fell in love with. But when things fell apart, she couldn't... well, she couldn't, or wouldn't stay with me. Do you have any idea how common it is for people in prison to get the dreaded 'Dear John' letter? So now she's divorced me, moved to Philly, and shacked up with a wealthy lawyer." He grimaced. "I guess once she knew I wasn't going to make her rich, she wasn't interested in me any more."

"I am so sorry to hear that. And no, no bullshit, games, or attitude from me as an employer or as a person. Or, for that matter, as a woman. So in the interest of full disclosure, I have to confess I find you a little attractive."

Jimmy's blush could have blistered paint. "If we are confessing, I will confess to having checked you out as you were going up to get a beer after we got out of the lake. And maybe that icy shower I took yesterday wasn't just because I was hot and dirty."

"Okay, well, that's out in the open now. I guess it's not too outrageous a possibility for two people to be attracted to each other, even if they've just met. But I'm still paying you, so let's go clean the kitchen."

"You got it, boss!" And with that, Jimmy got up and cleared our paper plates and empty beer cans. Which reminded me -- dump permit? I knew some municipalities had them, others just checked ID to make sure you were a resident.

Thank goodness somebody had cleaned out the kitchen before closing up the cabin. I knew that was standard end-of-summer practice, to take anything food-related (except canned goods) out. Otherwise mice, or worse, would wreak havoc. It wasn't uncommon for raccoons or possums to get in, and there were even occasional reports of bears in empty cabins.

There was still plenty of dust, and a mummified mouse under the stove, but we tackled it with -- well, maybe not enthusiasm, but willingness. By the time the area around the stove was clean, and Jimmy had checked all the stove knobs to make sure they weren't stuck or left open or something, it was nearly time for the propane truck.

We went around back to where the tank rack was. There was a five-foot-tall pine sapling poking up in the middle of the access lane, which would probably have to be cut down. Otherwise, there was no underbrush that the truck couldn't get through.

"Well, we are six months from Christmas. I guess this little fella gets cut early."

Jimmy fetched a chainsaw, heavy gloves, big stiff leather chaps, and two helmets from his truck. He handed me a helmet, which had earmuffs and a big face shield. Then he got his own gear on, fired up the saw, and took the tree out in less than a minute. Turning off the saw, he wiped the chips off with a rag and put it back in the case. Only then did he take off the helmet, accepted mine, and carefully set both down. Then he dragged the fallen tree into the woods to get it out of the way, leaving only a two-inch stump and a lot of sawdust.

We'd just finished putting the saw and gear away when we heard the rumble of the big Diesel truck carrying propane cylinders of all sizes, plus a big oval tank for refilling the fixed tanks common to the older vacation cabins. The driver, a burly guy with a salt-and-pepper beard and a green cap with the company logo, hopped out and shook my hand, then Jimmy's.

"Hi, Ms. Rassom, Jim. I'm Eric, from Tri-City Propane, as you probably figured out. Show me where the tank is?"

I did, and he looked it over, removing all the fitting connections and looking at the tubes or O-rings or whatever. The outside passed inspection OK, I guess, so we went in to let him check the water heater and the stove to make sure those connections were safe.

"You're good, at least the parts I can reach. I'm going to do a pressure test though, just in case there's a problem in the piping or if some of those connections are worse than they look."

He fitted a special valve or meter or something to our tank, then connected a thick braided-steel hose from the huge tank on his truck to the fill port. After running the hose for a couple minutes, he shut it off and peered at the pressure gauge, tapping it to make sure it moved freely. The pressure held steady, so he re-opened the valve and let it run for a while before cutting it off.

"There -- looks good." He noted the reading on the pressure gauge, and the reading on the little meter on his fill hose. Putting those into a tablet, he read off: "OK, Ms. Rassom, that's $183 for the propane, plus $100 for the inspection." I handed him my credit card, which had somehow still not melted down. "That gauge seems to be pretty accurate. Pay attention to the pressure and if you see abnormal drops that could mean a leak. Call us right away. Also call for a refill when it gets down to about 5 -- that means you're literally running on fumes. The number's on that tag." He pointed to a fluorescent green laminated tag wired to the fill valve.

After he'd driven off, I turned to Jimmy. "Okay, I don't want to seem like an idiot, but how often does that need to happen?"

"You'll be good for the rest of the summer. The real expense is for winter heating, and this place doesn't even have a furnace."

Crap. No furnace? That was going to be huge if I wanted to live here year-round. I'd have to do something or I'd freeze in four or five months. "Talk about mixed good and bad news. At some point I might have to spend big bucks on winterizing."

"Not to be persnickety, but while that would definitely be important, we need to make the place livable in warm weather first." And with that, he turned and went back in to go to work.

By sunset, the interior of the house was nearly done. All that remained was washing the windows, which needed daylight. I declared break time. "Too bad we don't really have anything to cook, now that we have the stove. Sandwiches again?"

"Sure. It's Wednesday. Would have been meatloaf day in prison. Supposed to be meatloaf but you'd look at it and wonder what it was. I could eat anything after that, but I like to cook anyway. My choices, tangible results. Kind of like this project. Sorry, I'm rambling."

"That's okay. You're easy to talk to."

"I'm... well, maybe, but I'm also a little nervous."

"What? Why? You seem like the most confident guy in the world."

"Thanks, but I'm only confident when I understand something. Cleaning, duh. Checking a gas line? 50% common sense, 50% knowing what to look for. When I know what I'm doing, when I know how to be safe, then I can take a risk because I know -- oh, for example this afternoon, with the chainsaw, would you have known anything was wrong if I just marched in and cut it down, no helmet shield, no leathers?"

"Umm, maybe, but you were careful with the protection."

"Exactly. When I know what I'm doing, know the risks, I can mitigate them. A chainsaw is a dangerous tool, but knowing the safety rules, and having experience, makes it much less dangerous. The helmet protects you from falling branches, the face shield -- well, shields your face, especially eyes -- and the earmuffs dampen the noise. When I got in legal trouble and had to go to prison, I had to learn a whole new set of risks and rules -- yes, even in minimum security.

"So now I'm in a situation where there might be some new risks, and I don't know the rules, and it makes me nervous."

I wanted, and I didn't want, that situation to involve me. "Look, I've hired you to help with this huge rehab project because your sister, the lawyer, told me you would be a good worker, and you've more than lived up to it. I've had to spend more than I expected for materials and stuff, but not more than I can afford. I can pay you, and if you need verification for parole or something, sure, I can do that. I hope there's not some other trouble you're in, but have you talked to Julie about your trouble?" I reached out and squeezed his hand, in a supportive gesture.

"Yeah. I probably should. Anyway, it's getting dark and I should get back to town. I did get my air mattress this morning, if you want to stay."

"It will be like camping in here as a kid, but no curfew! Sure, but how does it blow up?"

"Bike pump, no problem." He went out to the truck and got his air mattress and a little green foot pump. He showed me what to do and I stood there pumping with one foot until it was clearly beginning to inflate.

"Thanks again. See you tomorrow?"

"Can I bring coffee and pastries?"

"I would love that, if you let me pay. That's the deal, and you know I'd have gotten the tab at the diner."

"That sounds fair enough. I'll be here at 7:30 if that's okay with you. Then we can have breakfast and get to work clearing brush."

Seven-thirty was, well, reasonable, I guess. Jimmy was a hard-working man and if he wanted to get an early start, that's fine with me. "See you tomorrow, then." I shook his hand goodbye -- a slightly odd gesture, perhaps, but he welcomed it.

I stood on the deck and watched him climb into his truck, we waved at each other, and he drove off. I don't know what impulse made me do it, but I blew a kiss at his taillights as they disappeared into the woods. I stripped down to just panties and a clean T-shirt, stretched out my tired muscles, and collapsed onto the air mattress. It was a warm evening, so I didn't care about sheets. And I was too wiped out to get back up.

Thursday, June 27

The slamming of his truck door woke me at dawn, as the mists were still over the glassy lake. The rising sun was just picking out the tallest trees across the lake. I rolled over and looked at my phone, which was stone dead. Of course. It hadn't seen a charger for over a day, and it probably took more juice to find a signal out here in the woods than in a more built-up area.

Jimmy opened the passenger side of his truck and pulled out a tray containing four large coffees and a white bag. Looking up at me, he smiled and hoisted the bag. I waved him up and got out the roll of paper towels to serve as both plates and napkins, taking a minute to duck out of view and put my bikini top on as a bra.

"I tried to text to see if you had pastry preferences, but you didn't answer."

"Sorry, I haven't charged my phone for a while. And I just woke up, so my hair is probably a mess."

"It's okay, Emily. The power company is supposed to come out this afternoon. And you're fine -- believe me, I know about morning hair too."

"I suppose you would. I think, at least until we have electricity, we've done all we can inside. What do you want to do about outside?"

"Well, you're the boss, so you get to make the decisions. We can try to get it landscaped back to yard, like you said it was when you were little, we can let it go full forest, somewhere in between?"

"So, you think brush and so forth is first? I guess, since it won't need any power except maybe your chainsaw. I think I like having at least a walkable strip down to the lake, so we -- so I won't have to scrape through the bushes. But I don't think there will be any flashlight tag or hide-and-seek played here." I pondered. "I mean, I don't see kids in my future at this point, and the cousins are either childless or live far away."

We decided to just clear the old path, and abandon the rest to the ferns and brush that were thriving there. From the deck, a slight curve to the north -- the right -- would skirt the driveway and cut between two boulders. That was the path we'd always used, so it made sense to clear it again. Even after all these years it was less overgrown than the rest. At some point we'd need to clear a path to the boathouse, but that was less urgent.

It took most of the morning to hack away the brush and clear it out, just piling it in the woods to return to the soil. It was hot, sweaty, scratchy work, but whacking away at the raspberries, shrubs, and small tree saplings with a machete was like chopping away all the tangles and problems of my life. I never actually fantasized about whacking Todd with the machete, but cutting ties with him was appealing.

We cleared the path all the way, but it was still full of the cut-off stumps from the bushes and shrubs we'd massacred. "Okay, that's a lot better. We'll have to get a hoe or something and then put down mulch or gravel if you want it to stay clear. Some of those are raspberries, and they will grow back from a cut. But all the biggest obstacles are gone." Jimmy kicked at the pinky-sized green stumps.

"That sounds like a good time for a swim-and-lunch break." I stripped off my shirt -- today, I'd worn a bikini top for a bra -- and headed out on the rocks. The cool, clear water was as refreshing as it had been the day before. When I surfaced, I saw Jimmy's blue T-shirt on the first big rock out. Then his head popped up, he shook the water out of his hair, and gave me a friendly "woof".

"My golden-doodle!" We grinned at each other, a shared moment.

After we'd finished our sandwiches, and were lingering over the last sips of beer, I sat back. Somehow, I felt vastly less stressed out than I had been. And it wasn't just the vacation from work, but the ability to relax, work, and talk with Jimmy was the antidote to what I had slowly realized was the tension of dealing with Todd. Even before I found out he was cheating, I always felt like I had to be more than perfect around him, that I was never good enough. With Jimmy, that tension wasn't a factor. I was just working with a nice human being, which was a rarity in my experience. It also helped that he was pretty easy on the eyes, and he hadn't put his T-shirt back on after swimming.

"So, I took your advice and talked with my sister about my problems. She had some very helpful ideas."

"Glad to hear it. You seem like a pretty decent guy, and you don't need any more trouble. You've done your time and you seem to have made it through okay."

"Well, yeah, I'm doing okay. A year of parole -- and you may get a phone call verifying that I'm working -- and that chapter is behind me. There is no monetary liability from my crime. That was part of the plea bargain. I can basically never work in financial services again. But that's not the problem. This is since I got out."

"Well, it's none of my business, so I won't pry. But if you'd like a friendly ear to vent to, I'm here for you." I have to admit I was curious, and wanted to be a good listener for him.

Jimmy cleared his throat. "Ummm, it kind of is your business. The problem is, Emily, I'm starting to like you -- I mean, be both attracted to you as a person, as well as a nice human, err, I mean, as a woman I like you."

I reached over and patted his hand. "Jimmy, that's okay. I might just be starting to like you too, and not just as a smart, competent, hardworking, generally nice guy. But maybe your sister told you what happened."

"No. She said to be gentle and careful, that you had had a bad breakup and needed to heal. And that the rest of it was for you to disclose."

I told him about Todd and how I had surprised him, then moved out. "So, yeah, it was bad. I was betrayed. It hurt. But hard work, and the memories of fun summers, is helping me get over the hurt. And you being a friend -- at least a friend -- has helped."

I squeezed my hand, which was still on his, and said, "I don't know whether I even want to be in a romantic relationship anytime soon. But working together on the house, just having fun and being friendly with you, is a good enough time for now." I cleared my throat. "Do you have a garden rake or a hoe with you? We could get going on the path."

It was an abrupt change of subject, but I sensed that we each wanted to turn away from any dangerous relationship territory and Jimmy was quite as relieved as I was to get back to work.

He didn't have a hoe with him, but we found a rusty old pitchfork under the deck. I got started turning the roots and stems up out of the newly-cleared path. Jimmy got out his chainsaw and a ladder and began trimming back the branches that had grown out over the cabin. "Hey, Emily - these trees could easily drop a limb on your roof if there's a big storm. And I can cut them up to dry for next year's firewood. There's enough branches down already that we could clear out the fire-pit and use it, if you want. And I could take some of the smaller fallen trees and cut them to fireplace size." He cut what he could reach from the deck, the roof, and the ladder until there was nothing within a few feet of the cabin in any direction. I could see a scraped arc on the shingles where one of the branches had rubbed with the wind.

My shoulders and triceps had already gotten quite the workout with the machete and the pitchfork, but I offered to carry and stack while he cut. We'd built up a pretty good supply off the fallen limbs all over the place, with a couple bigger chunks cut off of the occasional fallen tree in the nearby woods. I thought a cozy fire might be nice for some evening after we got done.

Our work was interrupted by the Penelec truck, coming to turn the power back on. The driver introduced herself, then went to replace the ancient meter with a modern one that could actually talk to their system so a human wouldn't have to come around and read it. She got it plugged in, then climbed the pole closest to the cabin to do something in a black box. When she was done, she climbed back down and had me go inside and turn something on to make sure it was OK, then I signed a few things. She phoned in the completion report and went on her way.

Jimmy showed me where the fuse box was, and put back the fuses he'd taken out. A few still had readable labels, but most did not. Every time he put in a new fuse, I went around trying switches and outlets until I figured out what was now coming on. He wrote it all down on an index card that he taped to the inside of the fuse box door. "If you want to stay here, you should consider upgrading to a modern circuit breaker panel. Low priority now, but you might have to if you ever want to sell."

We plugged in all the lamps and so forth, testing them, and I dug a charger out of my bag and plugged in my poor sad phone. The refrigerator was at least trying to run, but it would be a while before we could check to see if it was actually getting cold. I'd have to get a bunch of replacement light bulbs, since some were blown out. More expenses.

"I'd say this place is pretty livable now. We have propane, electric, and water, we have food, and it's reasonably clean. Tomorrow, we'll test the laundry and, I hate to say it, we might have to take a look at the roof. There were some pretty worn spots where the branches were rubbing. From the look of the ceilings, it hasn't leaked through, which is amazingly lucky.

"It has only taken us three days to get the most critical stuff done. And Emily, what I said about you saving with your hard work is coming true. I'm impressed."

"Jimmy, I would never have worked this hard alone. When your sister promised you'd outwork me, I took it as a challenge. Having you help, and trying to outwork you has made me twice as productive. And yeah, of course I want to save money. It's been so good to see it returning to the way I remember it." I didn't tell him that I'd be kind of lonely when he was finished.

"I'm happy to stay on as long as there's work to do. It's been a pleasure."

"Ditto. I'll be happy to keep employing you as long as I can find work that needs doing. And I wouldn't rule out having Julie over when we're done, so I can show her what a good job you did."

"So let's plan out what else you want to work on. Right now the basics are okay. Hopefully they will deliver your mattresses tomorrow, so tonight we can try the washer to see if the sheets can be saved. I have some rope we can string for a clothesline. There's half a box of old powdered Tide in the laundry shelf, hopefully it's not too rock-hard to use."

Jimmy got me a hammer from his truck, and I tapped gently at the cardboard box to break up the brick of detergent while he tied up some clotheslines. I got out a reasonable size chunk and began mashing it with the side of the hammer so it wouldn't leave crusty lumps. Then I carefully undid the hoses from the back of the washer and flushed out the rust and sediment. We hadn't thought about that when Julie and I had first come out and tried the taps. I re-connected the hoses and tried the washer. It didn't work, so I checked the plug to make sure it was okay and then went and checked the fuse box. Sure enough, there was an unlabeled one that had a gray smudge inside the little glass window. I unscrewed it, and swapped the fuse with the one from the socket labeled "well pump" in Uncle Phil's handwriting. With county water, the well was unnecessary. That did the trick, and I soon heard the domestic-sounding throbs of the washer agitator going.

I checked the refrigerator -- it was beginning to cool and there was already frost on the ice compartment. "We are going to have to get mulch for the path, and groceries, and I need to get the rest of my things from the motel and check out. Let's take the afternoon to go to town, then I can cook for you. Guaranteed better than prison food."

"We're pretty grubby. Want a swim first, or maybe a shower?" That was a good idea, so we went down to the lake. I peeled off my shirt, again glad I had a bra that could do double duty, and waded out. Jimmy followed, again shaking out his hair and giving me a "woof" when he raised his head.

We floated there, just talking and relaxing. The weightlessness was heavenly on my sore muscles. I reached a hand out to his, under the water, and gave him a little squeeze. He reciprocated, but let go and drifted a little. After a while, I was beginning to get cold, so I swam in to wading depth and got out. We had no clean towels, as they needed a good wash to get the mustiness out, but the afternoon warmth and relatively low humidity dried us quickly enough.

Once we were reasonably clean and dry, we hopped into Jimmy's truck and drove to town. I checked out of the motel, which was beginning to fill for the holiday week ahead, and then Jimmy dropped me off at the grocery store. He went off to the municipal building, where the town park crew made the mulch from shredded trees available free to the public. Free was definitely within my budget.

I bought all the normal groceries that I hadn't before, things that needed refrigeration like milk and eggs, also staples like sugar, coffee, and flour, canned goods. I also picked up a couple of nice steaks. There was a (kind of rusty) cast-iron grate that could be pivoted over the fire-pit for grilling, and I was pretty sure steak wasn't on the rotation of the prison menu.

I was in the check-out line when I saw his truck pull in and park. I wheeled the cart out and saw that he had nearly filled the truck bed with mulch, and a case of beer was nestled in it. "I went to the beer distributor too, now that we have a working refrigerator." Pennsylvania's liquor laws are weird. Beer can only be sold by the case, and by licensed 'distributors'. Wine and distilled spirits are monopolized by the state's 'Fine Wine and Good Spirits' stores, but everybody around here still refers to it as the ABC, from the old Alcoholic Beverage Control state stores. When I was a teen, we talked about "learning your ABCs" as slang for getting drunk.

Anyway, I loaded the grocery bags into the back of the truck, climbed in, and we headed back to the cabin.

We unloaded the groceries and put them away, and I said, "One more job before dinner. We need to get that grill scraped off and the fire pit going." I grabbed a paint scraper and wire brush from the neat row of tools that had accumulated over our various chores, and sat down next to the grill to scrape the rust and ancient dirt away. The pivoting iron peg was rusted tight, so the grill wouldn't move, but Jimmy had some oil in his toolbox and we let it penetrate while I worked on the grate.

Meanwhile, Jimmy hacked down the grass and weeds that were growing within the brick ring, and brought over some of the dry brush and logs he'd cut that afternoon. By the time we were done, the oil had penetrated partly into the rusty socket, but the grill was still frozen tight. Neither of us could move it by hand or even by kicking.

I went and found a stout, six-foot branch from the brush we'd piled this morning. Planting the thick end in the dirt under the grate let me use its length as a lever, providing both a strong torque and a bit of lift. That did the job, and Jimmy gave me a nod of acknowledgment. We oiled it more, and swung it around until it had broken away all the rust and was able to turn relatively easily. I didn't want to have to fight it when it was hot.

Jimmy snagged a blanket from the railing where we were trying to air them out. I wouldn't have wanted to sleep under it, but it was okay as a picnic blanket. I started building a campfire as he was doing that, and Jimmy went and grabbed a couple of beers from the cooler. We sat and talked as the sun began to sink, first about what tasks to do tomorrow and then about Uncle Phil and childhood summers. The fire was settling into pleasant coals, and I went in to get the steaks and more beer. Jimmy raked the coals into an even layer with a big stick, and pivoted the grill to the cooking position.

Jimmy cooked, we ate, and the setting and the atmosphere and the hard work in good company made those some of the best steaks I'd ever had. We sat contentedly together, talking about old times, as the sunset reddened and dimmed.

"So that was the summer I grew boobs, and got my first grown-up bikini. I spent so much time out on the float, sunning and showing off for the boys. Of course, actually speaking with boys was a wild and risky activity, but I appreciated their adolescent ogling more than an adult would."

"Having once been a teenage boy, any excuse to look at a cute girl in a bikini is a good thing. And, sorry, but I have looked at you with, as a preacher would say, impure thoughts".

Well, good. Look all you want. "Likewise. And don't be sorry. I'm glad I can still be attractive. I kind of want to blush and giggle like an eighth-grader though."

"Like, when you've got a crush on somebody and you look at them and accidentally make eye contact, and you realize they are looking at you and maybe have a crush back at you?"

"Yes, exactly, and... wait, I know this is totally a junior high way to put it, but just how closely does your comment fit with -"

"To respond in a junior-high way, I, um, 'like' you." He blushed, which I thought was adorable. "I mean, 'like-like'. In fact, Julie said I should ask if you wanted a date. Tomorrow, if you're okay with the idea, I'm taking you out. It's a Friday, the work week is over, so you're not allowed to pay. This isn't a "I'm working and food's part of the deal", it's "This is a date and it's my idea so I get to pick up the check."

"One, I accept. And two, I 'like' you too. And three, there could be a time when I pick up the check and it's not part of your salary -- if I were to ask you out. And fourth, can we go to that Italian joint Julie took me to? That place was tasty and I bet it can get pretty romantic." I grinned. "Oh, and fifth, who says we aren't working Saturday? It's not like everything is perfect yet."

"Good, and yes, Torelli's is great. Or i could take you to the diner, or the McDonald's down by the I-80 exit ramp. Or halfway to Erie there's a steak place, but weekends it gets full of bikers and kind of rowdy. And I am fine with working on Saturday."

We sat contentedly as the sky went from purple to navy, and when the first stars were visible, Jimmy said, "I better get going. It's already pretty dark."

"Do you still have your hammock? You could sling it on the deck." There were hooks on the cabin wall, opposite those on the deck's corner post, for exactly that purpose.

He did that, but tied the rope at the feet end around the post. "I don't trust the hook not to pull out, but I'll check it tomorrow in daylight."

I shook out the picnic blanket and hung it back over the railing. "Good night, Jimmy." I hugged him, impulsively, and after a startled second he hugged back.

"Good night, Emily." He looked for a second like he was going to say something else, but turned and started shaking out his sleeping bag and arranging it in the hammock.

Friday, June 28

The next morning, I woke as the sky was just beginning to lighten. This had always been a favorite time of day when I was little -- dim, the lake often mirror-still and misty, nobody around. Sometimes, when I was very small, I'd just sit watching the mists. Occasionally a grownup, usually Aunt Betty, would join me. Then we would sit on the deck, her with coffee and me with cocoa, sipping quietly as the sun came up.

I got up and slipped into my shorts, then went to make coffee. It was already made, and a mug with a little ring of coffee at the bottom sat next to it. I stuck my head out the kitchen door to thank Jimmy, but he was already up and gone off somewhere. His truck was here, and still covered with dew, so I know he hadn't gone into town.

I took a coffee out on the porch and sat. Twenty-five years vanished, and I was five again, feeling very big and special to be out here with Aunt Betty and, very rarely, with any other adult.

As I was reminiscing, I saw Jimmy coming up the path from the boathouse. He lifted a stringer with a couple of perch he'd caught, and yelled up, "Fresh fish for breakfast!" He gutted and scaled them, collecting the waste in a pail, then brought the cleaned fish in. I fried them up with butter and a little chopped onion, and they were fantastic.

"I didn't know we still had any fishing gear down there?"

"No, I used my camping rod, which I keep in the truck. But the concrete platform outside the boathouse is a pretty good fishing spot, you've got access to reasonable depth there. That place is going to need a lot of work, though, if you want to keep it."

"We can add that to the list. This morning, we'll get that mulch laid out on the lake path. The mattresses are supposed to arrive today, too, so we need to finish washing the sheets and towels and stuff. Then maybe this afternoon we can go clear the boathouse path some and take a good look at it."

"The door was locked with a padlock, and the key isn't with those on the set Julie left. I waded around the shallow side. Fortunately there's no barrier.

"There's a key on a nail in the back of a kitchen cabinet, and there aren't any other padlocks around. We'll try it later. Maybe we should oil the lock so it has time to penetrate before we have to open it"

I took the pail of fish waste, which now included the skeletons from breakfast, down to the lake to return their remains to the ecosystem. While I was doing that, Jimmy oiled the boathouse padlock, and the rusty hinges too, for good measure.

Jimmy backed his truck as close to the lake path as he could, and we raked and shoveled out all the mulch, then I started spreading it across the path as Jimmy parked again and swept the debris out of his pickup bed.

It was mid-morning when I had all the mulch evenly spread and the path nicely covered. Jimmy had taken a brush hook and started on the boathouse path, I went inside to use the bathroom and saw a text saying the mattress delivery would be between eleven and two. It was about quarter of eleven, so they could be here any time. I hung the sheets and started a second load with towels, then washed up the frying pan and stuff from breakfast.

Before too long, Jimmy came back up the path. "That was the right key. Inside it's dirty, worse than the cabin was, and there is one hole where sunshine comes through the roof."

"Do you think it's worth salvaging?"

"Up to you, of course, but it's not in great shape. Maybe a hose will take care of the dirt, if we have one. And at some point the roof will need fixing."

"I haven't got a boat, so that can be low on the priority list. Lots of teen antics went on in that boathouse, though."

"I bet. Right balance of privacy and convenience." Danny chuckled.

"Maybe I'll tell you some stories sometime." The thought crossed my mind that I might even re-enact some. Jimmy didn't have braces or chapped lips, but I wasn't averse to the thought of a kiss. That made me blush just a tad.

He picked up on it. "Sounds like some of those stories might be kind of interesting," he smiled.

I returned his smile with a wink. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

~~~

We ate the last of the salami I'd bought for our lunch sandwiches, and busied ourselves with small chores while I waited for the promised call from the mattress delivery people. The sheets I'd washed were dry, and the sunshine and fresh air was really helping the mustiness of the old woolen blankets. Jimmy was cleaning a decade's worth of leaves and debris out of the gutters. A new garden hose, to replace the cracked, sun-rotted one we found buried in grass, was going to be on the list for today's shopping. Being a homeowner is expensive. But I'm a homeowner!

Finally, the mattress guys texted -- there is no house number, where do we go? -- and Jimmy walked out to the end of the driveway to flag them down.

Once those were dealt with, and the old ones were gone, I made the beds. I couldn't help but think about bed and Jimmy at the same time, and some part of me was a little curious. I could, politely, ask if he'd want to stay here while he worked.

The last thing that needed to happen was the visit from Jimmy's buddy Dill, to check the septic tank. He'd had to cancel this morning due to an emergency call, but said if we hadn't noticed anything like smells in the yard or backed up drains in the days we'd been here we were going to be fine for a while.

It was three-thirty. Jimmy was sweeping mounds of feathers, old nests, and bird poop out of the boathouse. The cabin was inhabitable, and it was really feeling like old times. I took a couple cans of beer out of the refrigerator and took them down to the boathouse, where Jimmy was pulling ancient nests out of the eaves.

He climbed down off the step-stool he'd found someplace, and pulled the dust mask off. "Thanks. Dry work in here." I couldn't help but laugh at his appearance, a clean patch where the mask had covered his mouth and nose, and dark streaks everywhere else.

"We're going to need a swim to get cleaned off. You should look at yourself." He peered over the edge of the boat bay and saw himself in the rippled lake, then laughed even more than I had.

"Now I have a muzzle to go with my poodle hair!"

I looked around the boathouse. Jimmy had worked most of the way down one side, clearing nests and scraping bird poop. The neat rows of nails for hanging life-jackets were empty and rusted, the peg racks that had held paddles and so forth were gone, the shelves that had held tackle boxes were empty.

I told Jimmy about how the life-jackets were always sorted by size, a few each from little kids to adult, and woe betide someone who didn't hang theirs properly. The boathouse didn't smell the same, either. I reminisced out loud about the combination of gasoline and boat exhaust, sunscreen, bug repellent.

"And later, after the adults had gone to bed, the teens would add smells of cigarettes, beer, and occasionally weed smoke. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's finish this side and call it a day. I have a date to get ready for!" We did, and then had a quick swim to get the top layers of dirt off, as Aunt Betty used to tell grubby children who'd been making sand castles all day.

"So, umm, how do you want to work this? I mean, you've got all your stuff here, but I don't. I need to go and shower with real soap and shampoo, before I'm fit for civilized company. And I don't have a razor, or any clothes here except for filthy work clothes."

"Well, then go do that, silly. I'll get cleaned up here and then come into town and get you." We agreed that I'd pick him up at Julia's at six, which gave us each well over an hour to get cleaned up, not counting driving time. I handed him my phone and he put in her address. Thirty-five minutes later, I was clean from top to toe, with freshly shaved legs and pits, wearing a knee-length light blue cotton skirt, sandals with a low heel, and a white sleeveless button-down top with my laciest bra. Instead of my usual simple ponytail, I left my hair down, blow-dried it, and brushed it until it was glossy. I hadn't worn makeup since leaving Todd, and wasn't going to start now.

This was the first time in years that I'd been on a real date. I wasn't school-girl dizzy over it, but I had to admit to some excitement -- and maybe some butterflies.

I got into my rental car and drove to the address he'd given me. Julie welcomed me in and gushed over my outfit. "I have to say, Emily, I haven't seen Jimmy this nervous since his parole hearing. I think he really wants to make a good impression, get to know you better -- but he's worried being seen as too, umm, aggressive is maybe a little strong. Forward, I guess they said in the old days. I mean, he is your employee and you're his boss.

"I think I am nervous too, in much the same way. This is the nicest outfit I brought. Everything else is basically jeans and work clothes. For once, I want to look pretty."

"I have to say you aced that one, then." Jimmy came in, wearing a business suit that was maybe a little tight around the shoulders, where he'd muscled up while in prison. "You're beautiful. Of course, dirt and sweat looks pretty good on you too."

"You clean up pretty nicely too, little brother. You two go have fun, now."

Jimmy gave me his arm, in a courtly fashion, and escorted me out. "I'd offer to drive, but the pair of us are just way too well dressed for my grubby truck."

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, it's a fine truck. It's not easy to imagine a guy in a suit driving it, though. I'll drive -- I think women's lib has come far enough that it's acceptable now."

Jimmy glanced over at me to make sure I was being sarcastic, and we cracked up. "My machismo can take the hit. Do you know the way?"

"Actually, not from here. I probably would have to go back out of town and start over."

"I'll navigate, then. Okay?"

"Probably Cosmopolitan would put 'partner is a helpful navigator' in one of those 'Ten Questions To Tell You He's The One' quizzes. Are you up for the challenge?"

"I'll give it a try."

He did more than try. He started with an overview of where we were in relation to what passes for a downtown, and a summary of the route. All the turns were announced far enough in advance that I could plan for them, even with the (relatively) higher traffic level of a Friday night, near Independence Day, in a tourist town. Still, it was trivial compared to Denver. We had to park a block away, but Jimmy's knowledge of the town led us to a parking place at least two blocks nearer than any I had seen coming in.

There was a big line at the takeout counter, both customers and delivery people, and a smaller line waiting for the seating area, but the owner, the eponymous Mr. Torelli, spotted us and waved at Jimmy. "Jim! Hi, your sister phoned you onto the list about fifteen minutes ago. And you would be Ms. Rassom, who came in with Julie Stanton a few days ago?" I nodded. "Mr. Phil Rassom's granddaughter?"

"Great-niece. Uncle Phil is -- was -- Dad's uncle. I'm Emily" I shook his hand.

"He was a lovely man. Came here often, back in the day. It's a pleasure to meet you." He seated us, and went to deal with a cranky customer who didn't have a sister to phone in a reservation for him and thought we were just barging the line.

"I guess I'm not the only one with some family connections here." Jimmy smiled at me.

"It is nice to be welcomed like that. It makes me feel less like just another summer tourist. Even though that's all I really am."

"Don't say that's all you are. You're a property owner, and kin to somebody who was well liked in town. You're not just a walking wallet. And you happen to be a very nice person and, if I may say, even more attractive than I thought this afternoon."

"Well, thank you. But whatever roots I have are by inheritance, and I only have a limited time here."

"What? Why?"

"I'm taking a three-week vacation. Actually, I should -- I should be at my rehearsal dinner right now." I sobbed.

"Wait, your wedding was scheduled for tomorrow?"

"Yes. I would have had this week for planning, married tomorrow, and then two weeks' honeymoon in Santa Fe." I bucked up my courage. "I'm glad I'm here instead. I guess if Uncle Phil hadn't died when he did, and I hadn't gotten the earlier flight, I might have wound up married to that two-timing weasel. And then, surprise, I wind up inheriting the place and hiring -- meeting -- you."

Just then a waitress came over and took our orders. She was undoubtedly a niece or daughter of the owner, by the family resemblance. I went for the broiled Lake Erie walleye, Jimmy ordered crab ravioli in a Gorgonzola white sauce. We shared a bottle of wine, then a tiramisu. The food was lovely, the company better. But it was clear that, on this near-holiday weekend, they wanted to turn the tables around as quickly as possible. The owner brought over the check, and told us that Julie had phoned in her credit card to cover it. We didn't feel hurried out, but we wanted to let the owner bring in more revenue. I wanted to keep conversing.

"Would you like to go for a little walk?" Jimmy must have had the same idea.

"Yeah, I would like that. I... I don't know if I'm ready to be actually 'dating' anyone, but I've had a heck of a good time." I blushed. "Working with you, I'm at ease. Relaxing afterwards, the same. This evening, wow, but it's scary."

"I know what you mean. Suzie was the only woman I ever loved, since I was nineteen years old. It nearly destroyed me to learn that I was nothing to her without a big income. Now, working with you, talking with you, it feels like the shell around my heart is cracking."

We embraced, and I very nearly kissed him. But I turned my head, and whispered, into his ear "not on a first date", then kissed his cheek.

"Does it count as a date if my sister picked up the check?"

"That was awful nice of her. I mean, she knows you don't have much money, and she wants you to have a good time. But I'm going to say that for definition purposes, I got dressed up nicely and so did you, and we had a candlelit dinner together. That must count for something."

"You really did. I have to say you're even prettier now than when you're covered in sweat and dirt," he laughed. I took his hand and held it as we strolled.

We walked back to my car, and before I unlocked it I said to him, "Don't take this the wrong way. Would you like to come back to the cabin? You're sleeping on a couch in your sister's den, and I bet you've been there ever since you got out of prison. And now that we have utilities and two new mattresses, you can have the back bedroom. You can be a roommate, free rent for as long as we're working."

"You realize if I don't come home, Julie will think... well, you know what she'll think."

"She paid for your date. I expect she'd approve. But she'd be wrong." For now, anyway, I added silently. "You are my friend, I hope I'm allowed to say after this week, as well as my employee. And, more luck for me, you happen to be an attractive man who has taken me out for a lovely date. It's possible that this nice evening is the beginning of more, but it's only a beginning. For now, you are a friend who could use a housing upgrade, and I'm a friend who has a vacant room."

"Fair enough." He shook my hand, as if we were conducting a business deal, but then hugged me. "Julie would never say anything, but I bet she will be happy to have her space back. Thank you."

"Do you want to go back and get changed, pick up things at home, or come back tomorrow?"

"I'm sure we'll have errands in town tomorrow, and I have some clothes in the washer. No need for the detour."

Saturday, June 29

I woke to the smell of bacon. If there is a better way to wake up, I'd like to experience it. Jimmy had cooked a bunch of bacon, and then scrambled up some eggs with shredded cheese and sauteed onion in the grease. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, and got up.

I was wearing my usual sleep attire of a t-shirt and panties, barefoot and braless. I stood up. The T-shirt came to well below my crotch, so I could be modest enough just padding to the kitchen. Jimmy handed me a mug of coffee, watched while I took a first sip, and only when I'd swallowed did he greet me.

"This is almost ready. Have a seat, I'll bring it out."

I sat at the log trestle table that had held so many games of Monopoly and Hearts, so many rainy-day jigsaw puzzles over the years. There was a glass on the table with water and a few of the daisies that grew wild along the driveway. I hadn't even had a quarter of the coffee when Jimmy brought out some flatware and his coffee, then went back for a couple of plates.

The breakfast was delicious. Jimmy had a knack in the kitchen, and he'd even gotten up early to go pick flowers.

"So, what do you want to work on today, boss lady?"

"Well, we have the south side of the boathouse. That's the big, dirty job. I want to turn over the blankets we're airing, wash the windows now that we're done kicking up dust inside, check the fireplace and chimney, the back screen door sticks, a bunch of small things like that.

"Then we can go into town for groceries, and a bunch of spare fuses, and whatever else comes up as we're working. And your truck."

"And, if you mean it about letting me move in, the rest of my clothes. Most of my less important personal stuff has been in a storage locker since Suzie divorced me when I was in prison."

"Is there anything in there you want to get, now that you have a place to put it?"

"I don't know, not urgently. I don't have a computer, that was seized by the feds, and not really a need for one. There's some camping and fishing equipment, books, that kind of stuff. I guess the fishing tackle might be the one thing I'd want out here."

"Then I guess we better get the boathouse done this morning. Eat the frog, as Uncle Phil used to say. Tackle the hardest thing first so everything after is easy. And it's going to be hot and steamy today, feels like. I'd just as soon get the dirty job done early -- a swim will be so great afterwards."

I went back to my room and put on fresh undies, some shorts and my work boots. I opted to skip a bra today, it would be too hot. And, well, if I was revealing a little extra boob definition, so much the better.

Hot and steamy it was. By eleven, we were both dripping and filthy. Jimmy had long since ditched his shirt, and his back was gleaming with sweat where it wasn't dirty. He had cobwebs in his hair. I could feel my T-shirt clinging to my skin, and I could tell Jimmy was very aware of that.

Motorboats and jetskis were roaring around the lake, with the coming of the weekend. There was a canoe about a hundred yards out, paddling slowly northward under the near-solstice sunshine.

"As boss lady and workplace health and safety officer, I declare this job site too damn hot." I sat down and took off my boots and socks, then dived neatly off the end of the concrete floor of the boathouse. I surfaced and swam around a small point to the cove where our main swimming area was. Jimmy was not far behind me, and we relaxed and floated, letting the dirt soak off, and enjoying how the hot sun and cool water felt.

"Let's get some lunch and plan the afternoon." We swam back around to the boathouse, so we wouldn't have to walk back to our shoes barefoot.

The dust had settled, and it wasn't so bad in there now that we'd cooled off and weren't working hard. The shade it provided more than outweighed the fact that it blocked whatever feeble breeze there was. I stood, very aware that I had a baggy, wet T-shirt and no bra. Jimmy was also aware.

"You can look. I don't mind." I'd rather he felt comfortable appreciating my body than feel like he had to pretend he wasn't looking.

He looked, openly and appreciatively. "It's a pleasant sight, for sure."

"I don't think I'd be comfortable like this around anybody else. No, I know I wouldn't be comfortable. And I don't know if it's because you're a good and trusted friend, or because I'm beginning to be attracted to you."

"I've never met a straight man who didn't enjoy looking at boobs. And likewise, yours are pretty nice, but in my opinion they're made nicer by the fact that they belong to one Emily Rassom, good and trusted friend, to whom I also am beginning to be attracted."

"I have another memory about the boathouse, if you'd like to hear it."

"Sure."

"I was thirteen, feeling very grown up because in the year since last summer, I'd grown boobs and gotten my period. Suddenly, noticing and being noticed by boys was super important. And flirting games were huge.

"So one evening, we were playing some game like truth or dare, spin the bottle, one of those. And I had to kiss a boy. Which I had never done before. Mike something-or-other, another regular summer kid. He'd had his growth spurt already, and peach fuzz on his upper lip. And braces. But adolescent me thought he was cute. So we stood there, face to face and horribly embarrased. Then, I leaned over and, before he could dodge or react, planted a smooch right on his lips."

I leaned over, and before he could react I planted a smooch right on Jimmy's lips.

"Wow. But I sure hope you've gotten better at kissing since then."

"Let me show you." I showed him. I showed him again, with tongue. And one more time, with an embrace that pressed my boobs into his chest.

"That was a lot better."

"Well, you are a way better kisser than Mike Something was, too."

"Glad to hear it."

"Yeah, you didn't faint. Let's eat. I've worked off that breakfast."

We walked single file through the path we'd cleared the other day, but I paused when we got to the more open space and took his hand. I was not quite giddy, but definitely elated. We held hands all the way up the stairs to the deck.

Jimmy had cooked the whole package of bacon, so we made bacon sandwiches with lettuce. Too bad I hadn't thought to get a tomato.

"Emily. One, I have been thinking about kissing you since last night. Two, I would happily kiss you again. And three, that boy really fainted?"

"Well, maybe not a full faint. But a swoon, anyway. He sat down a lot quicker than he intended, and looked a little dizzy."

"I sympathize. I could swoon, too, after kissing you."

"I'll make sure there's a chair nearby next time, then. Because I hope there will be a next time."

"Count on it."

We finished our sandwiches, and I washed the dishes and the breakfast frying pan while Jimmy went out to flip the blankets we'd laid out to let the sun burn off the mustiness.

"Into town now?"

"Sure. Let's get my truck first. And I should thank Julie for paying for our date."

"I ought to thank her too. And not just for paying. For everything. For you. And for us, however it turns out."

I let Jimmy drive on the way back to his sister's place, since he knew the way much better. He's quite a bit taller than me, so he had to move the seat and all the mirrors. But I didn't care -- it's a rental, after all, and I was paying more for it every day than I was paying Jimmy. And my head was going around and around. A week ago, I was completely soured on relationships. But Jimmy Stanton had changed that. Could I trust again? Could I open myself to a man -- maybe even intimately? Could I love the way I had once loved Todd?

Jimmy pulled into his sister's driveway and parked behind his truck. I'd been daydreaming and hadn't noticed that we were almost there.

Julie met us at the screen door. "Hi little brother, hi Emily. Hope you had a good time."

"We did, sis, thank you so much. I never thought to call ahead, even though it's a weekend in peak season. You saved us a long wait."

"Yes, Julie, thank you. And not just for paying but for helping Jimmy sort his feelings. And I have to say, that handyman you recommended is a really good worker. And kind of a hunk."

"Now that we've got the place livable, Emily has offered to let me stay in the second bedroom. So you can have the den back, and hopefully I can find my own place before winter. We came to get my clothes and my truck, and to say thanks."

"And, just in case you were curious, it was a lovely date and I certainly hope there will be another." I took Jimmy's hand. "So I guess we could say yes, we are officially dating." I squeezed, Jimmy squeezed back. "Next week is Independence Day. Uncle Phil always liked to have a big gathering for the day, and we'd watch the town fireworks over the lake. I don't know very many people in town, but I'd be pleased if you were able to come out. We should have the place pretty well cleaned up by then."

"Oh, that sounds great. I'd love to see what it looks like without the dead squirrel."

"Emily, how about you do the grocery and supplies shopping and meet me back at the cabin. I'm going to pack up here, then swing by the storage unit and see if there's anything I might want soon."

"Sounds good. Next week is the busiest week of summer, so I'm going to stock up today so as not to have to fight the crowds. Anything in particular you want me to get?"

We worked out a pretty long grocery list. Jimmy liked cooking, as do I, and we planned to get a week's worth of supplies. I also needed a hose to replace the ancient one we'd found deteriorating in the grass, a garden rake, a few more maintenance supplies.

I hit the hardware store first, then spent a huge sum at the grocery store. By the time I got home, Jimmy had already gotten back and unloaded his clothes and a couple boxes from the truck. We unloaded the groceries, and I set up some chicken to marinate in balsamic vinegar salad dressing. That would be great cooked over the fire.

"Okay. I say, the last job for today is washing all the windows. Then we can knock off for a dinner break."

I did the insides, Jimmy did the outsides. We kind of followed each other so we'd usually be working on the same window at the same time. It was work, but it was cleaner work than the boathouse by a long shot.

It was late afternoon, but still really hot and humid. I suggested a swim to cool off. By now, the lake was alive with boats as the vacationers arrived to their lakeside retreats. Jimmy had no suit, so he just stripped off his shirt. I changed into my bikini, and we took our newly mulched path to the shore, and I made sure to lead in case Jimmy wanted to look at my bikini-clad backside. We swam out from the rocks, bobbed and chatted and enjoyed the water. It was still early enough in the summer that the thermocline was about five feet down, where the sun-warmed surface water transitioned into the very cold depths. That meant that just a little bobbing would cool our toes dramatically.

After about half an hour, my stomach informed me with a loud growl that it was time to eat. I swam back in and got my shoes on, then started setting up a campfire. Jimmy went up to the cabin and grabbed a couple of beers and a blanket to sit on. We relaxed and watched the boats and water-skiers as the fire burned down to coals. I fetched the marinating chicken, some raw veggies to nibble, and a couple more beers. Jimmy pushed the grate back over the fire -- I was glad to see it hadn't seized up again -- and we cooked the chicken as the late summer sun began to redden across the lake.

We were so at ease with each other. Even though there was more than a little sexual tension, it was a new enough feeling that neither of us was willing to push it, so we just let it be. After we'd finished, Jimmy brought the cooking equipment inside and returned with two more beers. I'm a bit of a lightweight, but over the couple hours we'd been picnicking I had metabolized most of the two cans we'd already had. It was just enough to maintain a little glow, and cool us off for a while. I was very glad Jimmy had thought to pick up a couple foam sleeves to insulate the cans.

Even after sundown, it was hot and muggy. Of course the cabin had no air conditioning, so we'd just have to tough it out. We did so by hanging out on the deck, just chatting, trying to catch the feeble breezes, until it was fully dark. The moon shone through a sky hazy enough to block most of the stars. Finally, the evening cooled enough that a thick mist formed on the water, and began to spread up the shore. The lights from the cabins across the way were blurred, then diffused into a dim glow through the fog.

I was nearly asleep, and Jimmy had closed his eyes and was breathing softly in the other chair. I got up, bent over and kissed him on the forehead, whispering "good night, Jimmy."

Sunday, June 30

I woke to the birds, and smelled coffee. Jimmy must have made it, but I didn't see him anywhere. There were two mugs on the counter, one clean and one with some coffee residue. Maybe he'd gone fishing -- among the possessions he'd retrieved from storage was his tackle box and a couple poles. I took my mug out to the Adirondack chair on the deck, and watched the breaking dawn burn away the mist while I sipped my coffee. It was still cool enough that it was nice to hold the mug to my face and breathe the steam.

Far out on the lake, a solitary swimmer was making ripples that spread into huge circles on the glassy lake. As the swimmer approached, I saw the golden-doodle mane that told me it was Jimmy. And as he approached closer, I saw that he was skinny-dipping. I pondered whether or not to yell a greeting before he stood up, but I knew I'd want to be warned. I stood up and leaned over the railing to yell, "Good morning, Jimmy! Thanks for the coffee!"

He looked up and waved back. His shoulders were out of the water, but judging by how far offshore he was, he must have been crouching or kneeling. "I'm naked!" he yelled.

"I know." I stood there and sipped coffee, watching and waiting for Jimmy to make the next move. That move was to stand up -- he was now exposed to well below the navel, and I could make out that line of hair that went down from his bellybutton and presumably widened out to his pubes.

I clapped. He took a step forward. This was about to get very interesting. I just stood there, staring and grinning.

Jimmy pondered for a moment, then shrugged and stepped out as if he was crossing Main Street. He got into his shorts, commando I noted. Then he slipped on his sneakers and waved, bowed with a dramatic flourish, and came on up.

"Congratulations. Getting caught skinny-dipping is practically a rite of passage at this cabin." I handed him a fresh coffee.

"Thanks. And is that the traditional reception?"

"It very much depends. You're not going to be grounded, for one thing. Also, there's a big difference between a dawn refresher and... other kinds of skinny-dipping. And I was very curious to see -- to see how you'd respond."

"Once I figured that out, it was an easy call. I took your dare." He smirked. "Was my 'response' acceptable?"

"I think probably so. Might need to reassess later, though." Two could play at double entendres, so I smirked right back at him.

I think if either of us had made a move, we'd have screwed right then and there on the deck. It was just lucky we were sitting down. I smiled warmly to him, then turned to the lake and sipped my coffee.

"So, would you care to tell me about when you had this so-called rite of passage?"

"I owe you that. I was sixteen, it was a hot humid day and night. Like yesterday. I was supposed to be sleeping in a tent -- there were a bunch of families, so they put the big kids outside. But the tent blocked the breeze, and I was just miserable. So in the middle of the night, I stripped down and went out for a swim. What I didn't know was that my aunt and uncle, Dad's sister and brother-in-law, who were probably in their late forties, had had the same idea. But they weren't just swimming, if you get my drift. They were in the water on the far side of the float, so I didn't notice them until I was past it. But I heard a splash and Aunt Jan's explosive giggle after my uncle did -- something -- underwater.

"I couldn't tell you who was more mortified. I mean, it wasn't like there were any rules being broken. But it was a hot night, so I guess not surprising that I wasn't the only one seeking to cool off. I still don't know if I was more was embarrassed to be caught skinny-dipping or to have caught what sixteen-year-old me thought of as 'old people' having sex."

We laughed at that, and went in to make breakfast. Jimmy makes pretty damn good pancakes, a skill he learned on morning kitchen duty, his scholarship job in college.

As I was washing up, I asked, "Does today count as a work day?"

"Every day can be a work day, for all I care, Emily. But if we're going to do outside work, we need to do it soon. It's looking like thunderstorm weather, with this heat and humidity. And it's just going to get hotter until it does rain."

"Yeah, I'd just as soon those blankets didn't get rained on. We'll take them in as soon as the dew is dry. And you said something about the roof the other day?"

"It's going to need to be re-shingled sometime, but that's not urgent. I didn't see any signs of a leak, inside or out. I guess if it's been good this long, it should be okay for one more storm. And your rainspouting is cleared now, a good washing will help finish that job."

We checked the fireplace flue, which dumped a bunch of leaves and an old bird's nest out of the chimney. Cleaning that up, plus bringing in and stacking some more of the deadwood Jimmy had sawed up, kept us plenty busy until mid-morning, when the blankets were dry. After we'd folded them up, I declared work over, at least for the morning., and we had a swim break.

Jimmy and I were on the Adirondack chairs, shaded by the roof overhang, sipping iced tea and talking about what it was like being a year-round resident. The lake was filling up with boats. Every resort, campground, motel, and VRBO was booked solid. And it was getting very hot. In other words, a perfect summer weekend. This was a big part of Sherman Township's economy. Boat rentals, marina gasoline, restaurants, shopping, the money was rolling in. Any tourist-dependent business that wasn't well in the black by Labor Day was going to be in big trouble. A small bump if the fall leaf colors were having a good year, but the leaf-peepers don't rent sailboats or buy sunscreen.

It was too hot to cook anything for lunch, so we just had sandwiches. The sky was beginning to cloud over, heavy thunderheads way off in the distance.

Within an hour or so, the clouds had gone gray and the morning's breeze was growing into a decent wind. Sailboats were clearing the lake ahead of the gusts, and the general noise of motors diminished.

A roll of faraway thunder prompted all but the stubbornest, or stupidest, to get off the water. An aluminum boat a quarter mile from anything else makes a pretty good lightning rod. We got in off the deck when the first fat raindrops fell, and went around shutting all the windows. The thunder was getting closer.

Just then, I heard my phone beep from the other room. It was my weather app, telling me there was a severe thunderstorm warning, and it was expected in Sherman in about twenty minutes. No kidding. It was cooling off now, as downdrafts whipped the lake. For early afternoon, it was getting pretty dark. This was going to be a big one. I made sure to round up candles and matches, and check the kerosene lanterns. The trees were whipping.

With a huge, nearly simultaneous flash-bang, the sky opened and the rain bucketed down. Paradoxically, this seemed to calm the waves a little, or maybe it was just blurring their outlines. Jimmy and I were standing at the big front window, hand in hand, watching the storm roll in. I stepped a little closer to him and put my arm around his waist. With the drama of the storm, some primitive part of my monkey brain was sending messages about big strong male protectors. His arm was comfortingly around me, but since I was still just in my bikini I was getting cold. I'd just come back from getting dressed when the power went out. With the dark clouds, it was fairly dim, especially farther away from the windows.

We lit a couple of kerosene lanterns and put them on the end tables on either side of the leather sofa that had miraculously revived when Jimmy wiped it down with diluted vinegar, then used the neatsfoot oil we found in the games closet. I guess the family who cleaned the place out last had left all those old board games and puzzles, the badminton and croquet sets, wiffle bats and baseballs and abandoned gloves, for the next relatives. But I was the next relative, ten years later, and Uncle Phil wasn't the undisputed 1968 world Monopoly champion any more. Probably he never was, but I was more gullible as a kid.

Little memories like that pop up at the oddest moments.

We sat together, arms around each other and holding hands, startling at the thunder when it came really close to the lightning, and counting the seconds when it was later. After a little while, the interval got longer and the strikes got sparser. The rain settled to a fairly steady shower, and the sky began to lighten.

I turned to Jimmy and kissed him. "That was great! I love a good storm. And having you next to me made it so much better."

I could see him beginning to tear up, but he was grinning like a fool. I patted his hand, which had somehow wound up on my knee, and said, meekly, "hey, you okay?"

"Yeah. These are mostly happy tears. You're the best thing that's happened to me in the two and a half years since Mick's embezzling was uncovered. Longer. I could tell Suzie was feeling impatient that I wasn't bringing in six figures. The funny thing is, I would have been, easily, if Mick hadn't been manipulating things to make it look like our profits were lower. And now I meet you, and it's like all of that is garbage. I was okay, then things were terrible, and now they are great."

"And I don't give a shit that you're not a millionaire. And I don't believe you could ever cheat like Todd Fuckface Francis. And I want to hold you, and I want to talk to you, and kiss you occasionally, and I want to whip your ass at Monopoly before it gets too dark to play."

"Bring it on. I want the dog."

In an hour and a half, I had him in trouble. I had the orange and red properties with three houses each. The odds that he could get by unscathed were not good. He had all the railroads except my Short Line, and the Boardwalk/Park Place pair, but not enough money to put houses on them and still keep a reserve in case of hitting Illinois. The rest of the groups were split and intense bargaining broke out every now and then.

Jimmy had landed on New York Avenue, which was a decent chunk of change with three houses. It chewed into his reserve to the point where, if he rolled a low roll to hit my red, I'd probably bankrupt him. Unfortunately, his next roll landed safe on his Ventnor Avenue.

I made my roll, and wound up drawing the Go To Jail card from Community Chest. Fine with me, it would give him time to make another pass through my Zone of Doom, now reinforced to four houses each. Well, he tiptoed along with fours and fives, paying $10 to Chance but hitting only his properties. Not that six bucks for Connecticut Ave would bankrupt him, but it's the principle of the thing. By the time he was on light blue, I had run out of rolls and had to take my five, putting me on his railroad. That gave him a hundred bucks. Jimmy landed on his Electric Company with doubles, then Free Parking. Lucky me, I rolled double fives and bought another railroad ticket, then the one green I owned, Pacific. But Jimmy's luck ran out, or something, because the four he rolled next put him right on my Illinois. Game Over.

"I admit it, you have made me your Monopoly bitch. You're fierce. And I love your game face when you've got an important roll."

"Did I mention, Uncle Phil used to claim to be the 1968 World Monopoly Champion."

"Umm, sure. But there's no such thing as a World Monopoly Champion."

"Well, he was pretty damn good at it." Okay, Emily, here goes. "I have an IUD."

Jimmy blinked. "Good to know. Are we going to use it?"

"Probably. Later, though. I'm starving."

We decided not to open the refrigerator more than the minimum amount of times, not knowing how long the power would be out. Jimmy grabbed butter and cheese, I grabbed the beer, and we were in and out in seconds. We made grilled cheese sandwiches and I heated some tomato soup. Thank goodness for propane.

The rain was tapering off, but it was still cloudy. I stepped outside. There were no lights across the lake, except one place that must have had a generator. Other than that, it was pretty dim. Not dark yet, but from the way the clouds glowed more yellowish-orange to the west I figured it was getting close to sunset. It had cooled off enough that I borrowed a sweatshirt from Jimmy, having packed for summer. We sat by candlelight, the window a black mirror, holding hands and talking. We were two wounded souls, healing ourselves and each other. Could we open up to love? Should we? Did we want to?

"Emily, I don't know how to feel. I know that this last week has been amazing. I know that I really like working and talking with you. I know that you like me, and that you look pretty good in a wet T-shirt. And I like kissing you. I think I would really enjoy making love with you, but I don't think I have it in me to be just a fling. I couldn't stand to have my heart broken again."

I kissed him, softly and slowly. "Jimmy, if it wasn't for you, I might have had my heart broken by having to sell this cabin. And I trust you in ways I now realize I never really did trust Todd.

"I am conflicted, too. And it's for similar reasons -- I'm still leery of being hurt, and I'm afraid of hurting you. But I also like working with you, talking with you, and kissing you. And I've seen you naked, although from a distance. I liked what I saw, though."

"Can we sleep together, really sleep, cuddling together - not necessarily making love, I'll wear my shorts, you wearing your sleep T-shirt or whatever? I'm tired, it must be pretty late and even though it wasn't a hard work day, it's been pretty intense emotionally."

"I think that is a very fine idea. I could sleep in your arms without a care."

Monday, July 1

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night. Jimmy was stretched out flat on his back, his left hand holding my right, sound asleep. I could see moonlight on the trees. I got up and peed, than came back and snuggled up to him. He gave a small, happy sigh when I put my arm across his chest.

When next I opened my eyes, it was the dim light of early morning. Jimmy was just gazing at me with a happy expression. "Good morning, Emily. You are beautiful when you're asleep."

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Good morning, Jimmy. I hope you think I'm also okay when I'm awake."

"Indeed I do. I'm going to go make the coffee. Good thing there's still an old stovetop percolator in the cupboard."

"If you keep making coffee for me, I might fall in love with you."

"I'll bear that in mind."

I stretched, brushed my hair and left it down, and went out to the kitchen. Jimmy handed me a steaming mug.

"Let's sit on the deck. It's beautiful at dawn." It was, but it also turned out to be cool enough that I got goosebumps on my legs. It was also very evident that I hadn't put a bra on. And I didn't care.

The sky gradually lightened to a clear dawn. I went in to get some jeans on, and try to find out if the power was likely to be restored today. The Penelec website just said "widespread outages", listing most of the counties in the area. "Service will be restored as quickly as possible."

The forecast was for a clear day, temperatures in the mid 70s with relatively low humidity. Twenty degrees cooler than before the storm. The Canadian front that had pushed all that rain onto us was going to reward us with a beautiful day. And my phone was at 20% battery, so I just powered it off. No sense letting it go dead when the power might well be off for a couple days.

Jimmy texted his sister, who also had no power. She sent a picture of an uprooted tree halfway down the block.

"We should look around, see if anything is damaged. Then we can make a fix-it list."

"After breakfast."

Breakfast was pancakes again. It meant we had to get eggs and milk from the refrigerator, but we figured we'd eat the perishables early, not knowing when we'd have power back. It was going to be hamburgers on the firepit grill for lunch.

"Save the milk jug", I said. "We're going to need it for a bouy." I explained Dad's old trick of hanging beer below the thermocline to keep it cool while out fishing. It was also handy as a not-quite-delinquent teenager.

We went around opening the windows back up. The cool, low-humidity air felt so good after the oppressive mugginess before the storm.

From the deck, we had already seen a couple of trees and lots of branches down. As we walked around the house, we saw more destruction. "Wow, it's a good thing you pruned back the trees over the roof." There were smaller branches and debris all over, but fortunately nothing big enough to really damage anything had hit the roof.

"That reminds me -- did your great-uncle have homeowner's insurance?"

"Oh my god! I have no idea. I'll have to ask Julie about that trust that pays the taxes. If anything, that would be it."

"We're lucky a tree didn't fall on the house, then"

There were more limbs near the boathouse, but the big problem was the two-foot-thick tree that had fallen across the driveway. Until we could move or cut it away, we weren't going anywhere by car.

Jimmy climbed over and offered me his hand as I crossed. We walked up to the end of the driveway, but there weren't any cars or trucks out yet. Maybe they were stuck like us, or still asleep, or just didn't want to go anywhere, who knows. But we could hear a couple of chainsaws in the distance, and there was a news helicopter over the township.

"That can't be good. They never cover anything in Sherman."

"We should start my car to charge our phones. I have a feeling we could be stuck here without power for a while."

"Yeah. My chainsaw isn't going to be able to cut that tree without a lot of chewing on it, and there's probably a lot of flex in that trunk, waiting to kill somebody. Part of knowing the safety rules is knowing when something is too much. And that is gonna need a pro."

We collected our phones. Fortunately this rental car was a recent model, so it had several charge ports. Jimmy tuned in the local news station. " - from as far away as Cleveland to help with the damage. The Penelec spokesman then went on to say that power could be on in central parts of Sherman Township as soon as this evening, but outlying areas are likely to be out for days. An emergency shelter has been set up at Sherman High School. The National Weather Service has yet to determine whether the funnel cloud detected on radar became a tornado, but some ground spotters think so. We have on the line Mr. Clark Jackson of Sherm-"

I snapped it off. "Yeah, we're going to be here for a while. This could be a tough Fourth of July for the tourism businesses."

"We should check in with Julie, tell her we are safe but stuck and make sure she's OK." He texted, and immediately got a ???? and the jiggling dots of a reply being composed. His phone pinged again. "She's without power too, but otherwise okay. The neighbors around there are helping each other clear the debris."

His phone pinged again. "Have fun! ???? ❤.

"You have a terrific big sister." I pondered. "Do you think she was trying to set you up with me?"

"Maybe. I wouldn't be surprised. But she has always been my number one ally."

"Well, text her back and tell her I say thanks." He did, and a moment later his phone and mine pinged with another ❤.

I twisted around, unbuckling my seatbelt. "I think I need to kiss you again." He agreed. We made out like sixteen-year-olds at a drive-in, awkwardly contorting in the car seats. I sat up, slipping Jimmy's hand off my braless breast, and turned off the car. "Let's go inside." The phones were charged up, and so were we.

I had my shirt off before I'd even gotten up the stairs to the deck. I turned and jiggled at him, only then realizing it was almost the same pose I'd taken when I was trying to show off just a few days ago. Just showing a whole lot more. Jimmy hitched his pants around to let his erection unbend, slipped off his T-shirt, and trotted up the stairs. Embracing, skin to skin, I felt my breasts squishing against his chest.

"Do you want to make love before or after lunch?"

"Both, I think." I reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, rubbing the hardness beneath.

They say the first time two people make love is awkward. For each of us, it was only the second first time, as neither of us had had any partners before Todd and Suzie. We went inside and, after undoing each others' pants, realized we'd need to pause and take off our work boots. So we had the amusing sight of two shirtless people, jeans around their knees and sitting on the floor, in their underwear, frantically trying to undo their laces.

We stood up, me in pink cotton briefs and Jimmy in his bulging tighty-whiteys. I slipped my hands into his waistband and cupped his butt before sliding them off of him, to puddle at his feet. I moved my hand up and down, stroking my fingers very lightly against his stretched-out skin. He was noticeably bigger than Todd. Good.

"May I blow you, right here on the floor, or would you prefer to go to bed?" I sank to my knees.

"Ooohhh, God, yes". I figured that meant both, and I knew that Jimmy hadn't been with a woman for a very long time. I wanted him to last when he was inside me. I reached out my tongue and licked his head before taking the whole cap into my mouth. He placed a hand on each shoulder, and I used one hand to weigh his balls while the other spread my spit all over his shaft.

He lasted about a minute before a huge squirt, followed by a couple more, filled my mouth with his seed. I swallowed and sucked him clean, then looked up at him. He looked a little sheepish. "Sorry. It's been over two years since I saw anybody except Rosie Palmer and her five sisters." A jerking-off motion accompanied this.

"Don't be sorry. We have two days at least, undisturbed and not too much work to do. We'll practice until we get good at it. Promise."

I kissed the end of his softening cock, said "See ya later", and reached for my discarded jeans.

"Hold on. What do you think you're doing?" He picked me up by the armpits and stood me up. "I'd love to eat you out right now." He slid his hands down around my breasts and began stroking my nipples in little circles with his thumbs.

Todd hated to go down on me. I guess I'd gotten conditioned not to expect it. I slid my panties off and dropped them to the floor. I'm surprised they didn't go "splat", there was so much pussy juice soaked in.

I don't groom down below. My pubes are straight-ish and fine, like my head hair. Jimmy's work-calloused hand slid down to cup me as his middle finger felt its way into my slit and began stroking. "Let's go to the bedroom," he whispered, and we did.

I lay back and spread my legs, knees up. Jimmy was already beginning to get hard again, but he knelt between my feet. "You have to tell me what you like, or what you don't like." I nodded. He bent his back to hunch over, and gave my mound a gentle kiss before spreading my lips with his fingers. His tongue traced the valley all the way up to my clit. Very gently, he probed around with the tip of his tongue, following my folds.

"Oohh, that is sooo nice" I sighed. "You can be more... intense... if you want." He began tonguing my clit directly, giving me shivers. He slipped some fingers inside me and felt for my g-spot, which was bumpy with excitement.

Before long, he had figured out what I liked and how to read my responses. He used that knowledge well, and brought me to an orgasm that made me cry out, and left me boneless on the bed.

I lay there panting, my chest rosy with the blush. Jimmy straightened up, very hard again, then leaned over to lick my nipple, making me shiver. "Give me... a minute... too sensitive now." He lay down beside me, and I stroked his hard-on for a little while while I caught my breath.

When I could move my thighs again, I rolled over and straddled him, his cock pressed in my slot, between my clit and his belly. I slid back and forth, teasing him and slicking him up with my juices, then finally dropped a hand down and guided him inside me. I was hunched over him, elbows locked straight and my hands on either side of his ribs, holding still and gazing into his blue eyes. He reached up and cupped my breasts, stroking them gently with his palms.

"This feels so right." Jimmy smiled at me. I agreed, smiling back, and began a very slow oscillation of my hips. The motion was gliding his cock right across my g-spot as I leaned back to sit nearly upright. I began to slide up and down him, until he was deep in, stretching me wonderfully as he strained upwards. He put a palm over my mound and slid a thumb down to massage my clit as I began to stroke farther and farther. I bent forward, and Jimmy moved the slick thumb to a nipple and began stroking across it. I ground myself into his pubes at every downstroke, and began to squeeze him with my Kegels as I came again. This pushed Jimmy over the edge, and I felt his pulses answering my squeezes. I collapsed onto him, as spent as he was. When I felt his softening cock finally slip out, I rolled off of him.

"Wow." I lay down on my back, panting, and put one knee over his thigh as our juices began to trickle out of my satisfied pussy.

"Yeah." Jimmy propped himself up on an elbow, so he could face me. His still-slippery cock drooped down. "That was amazing."

I turned my head to look at him. "One, when I get bones back in my legs, I am going to want some lunch. Two, yes, that was amazing. And three, I don't care how long it takes before we can get out of here." I sighed. "You know, I would have been honeymooning with Todd right now. We'd have been in Santa Fe, making love, and all the time he would have had that other woman waiting for him when we got back."

Jimmy patted my tummy. "I'm sure glad you're here with me instead. And we can have our own mini-honeymoon for the next few days."

I sat up and kissed him. "That sounds like a perfect time. I need to go clean up, then let's get a fire going to cook that hamburger before it spoils" I got out of bed and went off to the bathroom to blot up all the wetness at my crotch, then went looking for my clothes. I couldn't find my T-shirt until I remembered I'd taken it off outside.

Despite the chaos, damage, and power outages, there were still people on the lake, enjoying the gorgeous weather. I guess you don't need electricity to operate a sailboat. Jimmy built a fire to grill the hamburgers, and I took the empty milk jug and a spool of fishing line. I tied the line to the jug's handle, passed it through the pull-tab rings, then back to the handle, so that six cans of beer were hanging by a ten-foot loop. I took off my jeans and waded out in my pink panties and t-shirt. Swimming out until I was past ten feet deep, I released the line and slowly towed the bouy back toward the shore until I felt the cans drag on the bottom. Now the contraption wouldn't drift away, at least in mild waves. And the beer would be cooled to nearly refrigerator-cold by the deep waters.

I didn't want to put my jeans back on over the wet underwear, so I just waded back and sat down on the blanket next to Jimmy. He didn't seem to mind. And he had a wonderful time watching what happened as the breeze cooled my t-shirt, making my nipples pop almost as stiff as they had been in the throes of passion.

"When I was seventeen, I decided I was going to sun topless on the float. Nobody was around, for some reason, so I swam out, took off my bikini top, and lay down. It was a clear day like this, deep blue sky and bright sun, and I lay there for about an hour.

"Now, I had been out on the lake all summer, so I was fairly well tanned. Except my boobs, which of course had been covered and were still pale. They were not ready for an hour of noonday sun. I got a terrible sunburn, exactly where I needed to be covered. For a couple days I wore baggy t-shirts and leaned forward. I was bright pink in two triangles and tan everywhere else, and it just flat-out hurt. I learned my lesson."

"No naked tits at high noon?" he chuckled.

"Well, not without sunscreen." I flashed him, just for fun.

We had a nice lunch and went indoors for a nap. That the nap involved both of us on one bed, naked, didn't matter. We were full, sexually sated, and knew that we'd be able to make love whenever we wanted. We snoozed peacefully until a particularly loud, particularly close jet-ski roused us.

I sat up and tried to clear my sleep-logged head. Jimmy was rubbing his eyes.

"I am going to go to the bathroom and then brush my teeth. When I get back, kissably fresh, you may do the same. I plan to wait here naked until you return." I did so, and so did Jimmy. I noticed that his cock was beginning to harden again when he came back.

Our lovemaking was slow and gentle and intimate, beginning with soft, stroking touches and explorations of each other's bodies. The frenzied passion of our first time was banked back, and we screwed missionary, long and slow and warm instead of quick and hot. Jimmy, having been pumped dry twice before lunch, was able to last through my first rippling orgasm and, when I wrapped my legs around his thighs to pull him deep for my second, he pushed hard and held there. I felt his butt clenching as he came, though it didn't feel like he had much jizz left for me.

We lay side by side, smiling contentedly and tracing each other's faces and bodies with our fingertips.

"Emily. Wow. I think I am falling in love with you."

"Jimmy, I think I am falling in love with you, too." I leaned forward and kissed him on the tip of his nose. He returned it, first on my nose and then on my lips. "We should probably get up and have another look around, see if we've missed anything important before it gets dark."

"And maybe check the news, see if there are any updates on getting the power back or anything. I want to know what that helicopter from WJET was reporting on."

"And look over the groceries, figure out what perishables won't last long so we eat those first. We could easily be stuck here until after the Fourth."

"I don't think we'll get bored, though." He leaned forward and kissed my nipple, then stroked it gently, watching it respond.

"Nope." I returned his attentions by giving a fondle to his limp, spent dick. "There's a whole closet of games and puzzles for rainy days. Or I could whup you at Monopoly again."

"Or we could spend three days screwing our brains out."

"I like that idea even better than whupping you at Monopoly."

"I'm gonna need a few hours, though. Let's get dressed and do a little storm cleanup, and fish for some dinner"

We dragged the bigger branches out of the driveway, so that the only obstacle was the fallen tree, then swept the deck and stairs clear. There was a large limb down blocking the path to the boathouse, and Jimmy decided to wait until tomorrow and carefully take it apart with the chainsaw, since it would have been hard to drag where it was. We had worked hard enough to break a sweat, even though it was dry and below eighty degrees. I took off my jeans and swam out to retrieve the beer, which was nicely cold, and we took them up to the deck to drink and talk. The sun was far enough west that the deck was in full sun, so we'd each put on a ball cap from the games closet. I'd put my ponytail through the hole in the back, which I had always thought was a cute look.

"I took three weeks off of work. We are in the second week now."

"Uh-oh. Do you have to go back to Colorado?"

"Maybe. We'll have to figure something out. But I don't want this to be just a summer fling."

"Me neither. Let's figure it out after our honeymoon." He kissed me, stroking a hand lovingly down my breast.

"Ready to go again?" My nipple showed that it was.

"Not yet. I need to save up. Tonight, I want to fall asleep with you in a post-orgasmic daze. Sex by candlelight."

"That sounds wonderful. Let's go catch some fish for supper."

"That, too, sounds wonderful. You know, I don't have to stay here. I might as well be in Colorado with you."

"Sshhh, lover-boy. We're still on our honeymoon. I need internet to figure this out, and until we can get out of the driveway we're not going to get it. Let's go fishing, then take a shower while there's still enough light to see each other's naughty bits."

This was agreeable to Jimmy. I caught a couple of bluegill, Jimmy caught a perch. We unhooked them and put them in a bucket of lakewater for later.

We spent a good long time in the shower, soaping each other up and giggling and playing, until the poor old water heater just couldn't keep up. After drying each other off, we dressed in clothes that would be warm enough for the likely-chilly evening: jeans, T-shirts, flannels. I put on a bra with a front clasp, hoping Jimmy would undo it for me.

I cleaned and filleted the fish while Jimmy used an egg, beer, and some flour to make a batter. We pan-fried the fish, and it was terrific.

We'd laid a fire in the fireplace, and lit it as the great room dimmed. Lying on our sides on the air mattress, we talked and kissed until it was fully dark. I reached over and started undoing Jimmy's shirt buttons. "Does making love by firelight sound appealing?"

"Depends. With whom?"

"Emily Rassom"

"Then, yes." He began undoing my buttons as well. I was glad to have selected the front-close bra.

When we were both shirtless, he pulled me to him. I could feel his hard-on straining through his jeans, and pressed my hip into it. He kissed me, then leaned back to undo his belt.

"Allow me, please." I opened his belt and fly, and reached in to rub the bulge in his underwear. He took a deep breath and sighed. I scooted down to the end of the mattress and bent over to tug his jeans from the cuffs. When I had them off, I crawled up to relive him of his underwear.

He cracked up. "Hold still. Now move your left arm back where it was a minute ago. Okay, good. Now, without moving the rest of your body at all, turn your head to look at the wall by the kitchen."

I did so. The way I was angled, on my hands and knees, meant my modest boobs cast a dancing, flickery shadow in the firelight. "Okay, but if you think I can make a bunnyrabbit or a duck, you're sadly overestimating my talents."

"I like your talents just the way they are, thanks. But you are wearing far too many clothes, and I intend to do something about it." He sat up and rolled me onto my back, undid my jeans and slid them off, then slid his fingers into the leg-hole of my panties and began probing around my pussy. He found my hard little bump and moved his fingers in little circles until I gasped. Jimmy's mouth found my nipple, and he folded his lips back to protect his teeth. He pinched my nipple and pulled on it a little bit. Some kind of instinct told me our babies would be doing that in a few years. Or maybe it was an animal response to stimulation similar to a baby's suckling.

"Oh, God that is nice. You are going to make me ovulate."

He paused. "Wait, is that a thing?"

"Oh, who knows. But your pulling on my nipple just then made me want to have your babies."

"Whoa, I thought you said you have an IUD!"

"I do. Don't panic. But Jimmy, if there is anyone I'd ever have it removed for, it's you."

His eyes welled up. "I... I... my god, Emily, that got me right in the gut. What a beautiful thing to say. I love you."

"I love you too. It might be something that happens someday. I never, ever felt that with Todd." I kissed him. "But for now, we are on our accidental honeymoon, and I believe you were in the process of removing my underwear."

Jimmy completed that task, and settled his face into my crotch. He licked slowly up between my outer labia, settling in to just barely tickling my clit with the tip of his tongue while his fingers probed for my g-spot. My gasp and sigh when he found it set his tongue to working harder.

I was going to explode, but I needed to do something for him. I pulled on his ear until he looked up.

"What?" Whew. If he hadn't pulled his mouth off me to speak, I would have come so hard I'd be a wet dishrag, and there was something else I wanted to do for Jimmy.

"Lie back." He did, and I climbed on to him. "Men are visual creatures and I want to give you a memory." I aimed his cock into me and let my body weight push us deeply together. I laced my fingers behind my head, which hiked up my boobs. Keeping my hands back, I began slowly lifting up and dropping down on his boner. I was turning my torso so that my body -- and especially my breasts -- were illuminated by the firelight at various angles. Jimmy's eyes were as wide as his smile. I lowered my hands and leaned forward, so that my breasts were put into sharp relief by the firelight. Pumping my hips back and forth, I Kegel-squeezed him until I felt the spurt of his orgasm. That set me off, and I threw back my head and yelled my wordless bliss.

"Someday, I will be a senile old man who can barely eat with a spoon, and I will still remember this night, and the whole week."

"I hope I can remind you for a long time to come. I love you, Jimmy Stanton."

Tuesday, July 2

Sometime later, Jimmy must have gone and gotten bedding. We'd screwed on his air mattress, which now had a drying wet spot, destined to become a telltale stain, and fallen asleep warmed by the fire and our lovemaking. The fire was just an orange glow, and Jimmy and I were snuggled in our little warm cocoon in the cool night. I sighed with happiness and pulled his protective arm to my chest, closing my eyes again.

~~~~

We woke nearly simultaneously in the gray dawn. Or our pre-waking movements gave each other that last little nudge that makes the awareness spark. Whatever. A yawn, a stretch, and we looked into each other's eyes and smiled.

"Emily, holy cow. How much my life has changed in a week. Yours, too."

"I wouldn't mind calling it 'our life' for a good long time."

Jimmy hugged me. "I am going to go start some coffee. You said the other day that if I kept making you coffee, you might fall in love with me. I hope that's going to work."

"Silly man. Go start the coffee, but you have to do it nude so I can watch your butt as you walk." I smacked said butt playfully. "And yeah, it seems to be working pretty well so far."

It was a butt worth watching. But fair's fair, so I came out equally nude to join him, in case there was anything he wanted to watch. There was.

"Shall we enjoy our coffee on the deck, Adam and Eve-style?" There was a thick enough fog that we wouldn't accidentally startle a dawn birdwatcher, panning along with his binoculars. I wanted Jimmy to be part of my mornings, and coffee on the deck was huge.

"We haven't got any fig leaves, though, so I guess we'll have to do without." He shrugged.

I went in to get a couple towels to put on the chairs, because who needs a splinter in their ass. Especially if they intend to do a lot of fucking. Jimmy poured two mugs of coffee and set them on the deck railing while we laid out the towels. We sat and sipped and stared thoughtfully out into the fog.

"I wonder if Uncle Phil and Aunt Betty, when they were a young couple seventy years ago, ever sat naked on the foggy deck after a night of great sex."

"I hope so. They sure missed out if they didn't."

"I do know that the dawn skinny-dip is a long-standing tradition. Aunt Betty told me she and Uncle Phil would often go skinny-dipping together." I did an old-lady voice: "'And sometimes, we wouldn't get dressed right away after.' That was not long before she died, when her filters were beginning to slip."

"Your great-aunt Betty had the right idea. After breakfast?"

"I think before, while the fog is still thick, would be more discreet."

We got into some sneakers for the walk down to the rocks, then waded into the cold lakewater. All the rain had added a few inches, according to the brass flood ruler Uncle Phil had long ago bolted to the end of the boathouse foundation. Supposedly he had hired a surveyor to measure the exact altitude of the dam, and had the boathouse built one foot higher. The ruler was set with its top end one foot below the surface of the concrete, and had markings at three-inch intervals. It was pretty close to the top now.

We swam out lazily, but not too far. Losing oneself in the fog while skinny-dipping probably would lead to trouble, or at least embarassment. Bobbing in the cool water, we held each other's warm bodies.

"I gotta hand it to your great-uncle." Jimmy shivered a little. "If he could... entertain... his wife after a cold swim, he's a better man than me."

"It is pretty cold. Let's go in and I'll give you mouth-to-dick resuscitation."

We did. I did. Well, I tried. But as I was reviving the patient, my stomach loudly protested.

Jimmy laughed. "It's jealous. Your mouth is busy, but it's not getting fed." He sat up. "How about I go make some pancakes, and you see if you can revive the fire. You're excellent at blowing."

For that he earned a big raspberry on his belly, which was answered by his own stomach.

"I give up, everybody votes for pancakes. I'm going to go practice blowing." I love that man, the way we can banter.

"God I love you, Emily." He smiled. "But let's get dressed. You don't want a spark to give you a burn on your breast. A boob blister."

"Been there, done that. I had some when I got sunburned."

"Okay, seriously, that's a skin cancer risk, a severe blistering sunburn."

"Promise you'll inspect me regularly to check for moles?"

"It's a deal. Probably after breakfast I'd better do a starting-point examination."

"Just make some pancakes, love."

We slipped into our jeans, both commando I noticed, and buttoned on warm shirts. No way was I going to bother with a bra if I was commando. Plus, access.

Jimmy had finished the first set of pancakes by the time I'd gotten the embers to ignite some of the dry leaves we'd brought in with the kindling. He was just stacking the second set onto the serving plate when I had the kindling going well enough to add some one- to two-inch wide sticks. I'd let those burn while we ate, then put some logs on.

By the time we'd finished six pancakes each, the fog had thickened into a misty drizzle. Jimmy washed the dishes, while I used one of the logs that had been patiently waiting by the fireplace for a decade. Those split logs were so wonderfully dry that they cheerfully caught from the kindling, and burned with never a pop. That was good enough to start some of the big stack of cut-up deadfall that we'd brought in, partly before the storm and a lot more afterwards, when we were doing some preparations for a long week of no electricity.

"Any updates from your sister?"

Jimmy checked his phone. "Dead. We haven't charged them since, what, Sunday?"

I had 5%. "Let's go charge them in the car. Want to see if the back seat is big enough to fuck in?"

"I'm sold."

As soon as my battery was at ten percent and rising, I opened it -- and saw that the low battery had put it into airplane mode.

When I restored cell data, the message indicator lit up with seven messages, six from Julie and one, surprisingly, from Todd.

"Saw on TV that a tornado hit Sherman, PA. Isn't that where you said your uncle had a cabin?"

Julie had texted:

• power was back in the main part of town,

• that there was a confirmed F0 tornado touchdown,

• that there were several people injured but no fatalities or missing persons

• anyone who needed assistance clearing downed trees should send an email to the city parks department, with pictures.

Then she sent a ???? emoji and a screenshot of the local radio station's web site: PARKS DEPARTMENT CLARIFIES. Turns out people were sending pictures of themselves, their cats, a few penises, in addition to the pictures of downed trees that they were expecting.

The last one was, "Hope you guys are OK. Actually, hope you're more than OK. ????"

I showed Jimmy. "Tell her we are way more than OK."

I did. She replied ????.

Our phones were each above 75%, and it was getting very foggy with occasional misty rain. We were in a cloud, which sometimes happened when conditions were right over Lake Erie.

"If I had had the slightest idea that I'd want to fuck in the back seat, I probably wouldn't have rented a subcompact."

"When it's nicer out, we can do a truck fuck."

"That -- that kind of thinking is why I love you, Jimmy Stanton."

~~~

We went inside, stripped and toweled off. in the cabin's great room, where there was no problem with finding enough space. We laughed, talked, tickled, teased, touched and tasted. And we made love in front of the fireplace, after I put a few more logs on to get a roaring blaze.

"I respect you too much to challenge you to another Monopoly whupping, so why don't you go pick out a jigsaw puzzle. When the rain and fog clears some we can go take pictures of the tree for the Parks Department."

Jimmy selected a puzzle that had a famous painting of sailors about to shipwreck, while a mermaid watched from atop the rocks. It was a good choice for a puzzle because of the patterns in the waves, and the subtle textures that distinguished one rock from another. A square of masking tape was placed on the box, over a very small section of sky, with the word "missing" carefully printed on it.

We picked away at the jigsaw puzzle, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, while the July sun slowly won its battle with the mist. I think after the sex, after the cooperation and the laughter and talking, the ability to be peaceably quiet together is another important relationship skill. Jimmy had just found the pieces linking a section of rock to the edge pieces when a shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds. "That seems like a good clue that the rain is ending."

We went and took pictures of the tree from both sides, the root ball just outside the shoulder, a shot down the drive from the county road, and a screenshot of a GPS application showing the exact location.

Jimmy sent the email, copying it to Julie, and explaining that we were fine and had food for two or three more days, but no electricity and spotty cell service.

An automated reply said that crews would be dispatched as and when available, and to hang a red or orange cloth at the end of any hard-to-spot roadways or blind driveways.

I found an orange towel, and we tied it to a tree up where the driveway met the road.

The trees were dripping and the ground was nearly saturated after the big storm and then today's slow but constant wetness. But as the afternoon cleared, we began to hear motors out on the lake again. People wanted to have a good time, and were making up for a rainy morning.

"Shall we go try to catch fish for supper, or order a pizza from Torelli's?"

"Don't laugh. I bet they'd deliver halfway down the driveway and just hand it over the trunk."

"For a Stanton and a Rassom, they probably would at that. Especially if your sister called in the order, then you'd get Mr. Torelli himself driving."

"I think we're down to cheese, eggs, and peanut butter for protein. Plenty of bread, so we can live on PBJs if we're really stuck for a while."

"I'd vote to save the eggs to make pancakes. You're darn good at that."

We got Jimmy's fishing gear and headed for the boathouse. While fishing, we started talking about the cabin some more, but this time as future goals instead of what we needed to do to make it habitable. There seemed to be an inherent assumption that, whatever future we saw, we'd be together. That worked for me. I figured that if, in fifty years, I'd be telling stories of this week to our grandchildren, I could count that as a well-lived life. And maybe I could titillate and scandalize a twenty-year-old granddaughter the way Aunt Betty had done when she told me about skinny-dipping.

The fish made our menu choice for us by declining to volunteer. Both of us were completely skunked, and starting to get hungry, so we decided to make grilled-cheese sandwiches and canned soup. Sitting on the deck with a post-dinner beer and the sunset lighting the patchy clouds from below, newly in love and with a livable cabin, made so by Jimmy's and my working together, my life seemed pretty much perfect, and I told him so.

"You are so right, Emily. You know how they use the term 'rehabilitation' for ex-cons as well as about real estate fixer-uppers. When Julie said she had "a nice lady" client who wanted to hire a helper, I figured a couple weeks of work for a sixty-something widow would be good for my mental health, in addition to showing that I was employed for my parole officer. I couldn't have anticipated this -- nobody could." I squeezed his hand. "I mean, you are a 'nice lady', in addition to being a wonderful human being and a very sexy woman."

"Good save, there, Jimmy. When I walked into that cafe, and saw you sitting there with Julie, my first thought was that she hadn't told me you are a hunk." As the evening dimmed, we saw that the lights were back on across the lake, on the side closer to Sherman. Our idyll wouldn't last forever. "Want to go inside and get naked in front of the fire?"

He did.

We were on the air mattress again, nude and enjoying the fire's glow, holding hands and talking, kissing, fondling. I was getting excited again, and it was pretty obvious Jimmy was too. I sat in front of him, leaning back against his chest. He was stroking my breasts and pussy from behind, so the way his hands were positioned felt pretty close to how mine usually were when I was playing with myself. I adjusted him very slightly so that his motions were just exactly right, and he quickly caught on to what to do. I felt his cock pressing up the crack of my backside as it stiffened, trapped between my spine and his belly. He was kissing my ears and neck, finding the zones that would have stiffened my nipples if they weren't already very poky. Jimmy had gotten me very steamed up, and my thighs were beginning to quiver as I felt things building.

"Jimmy -- god, finish me this way -- it's so good -- oh, oh, yeah, fast, really fast... ohhhhh, ohhh, yes." He felt my shudders as I came, and gently lowered me back to lie on him as I caught my breath.

I could feel his boner pressing into my lower back. I sat up and turned around, gracefully extending my right leg straight upwards to pass it in front of his face, and sat between his knees, facing him and with one leg hooked over each thigh. I leaned forward to lick his dick-head, and began stroking up and down his length. His cock jumped when my tongue touched it. "I'm going to scoot forward and climb onto your lap. Brace yourself." He did, and I said, "Cross your legs, Indian-style, so I have a good seat." I lifted up, and he scooted his calves in to where my butt had been. Carefully, I lowered myself onto him, engulfing him as he filled me. I crossed my legs behind me, hugged him tight, and let my weight take me as deeply as possible.

"If you move at all, I'm likely to pop." He kissed me, and I wiggled just a bit, getting centered and stablilzed.

"Are you comfortable like this?" I knew he was supporting a lot of my weight, and I didn't want his hips to strain or something.

"It's straining my hamstrings a little, but no more than a good stretch. This is such an intimate position, makes us be so close, face to face. And I am so, so deep in you."

"That's what I wanted. And it's putting my most sensitive bits right against you." I wiggled my hips back and forth, his tightly curled pubes tickling my clit. "Thrusting is going to be a workout, so if you don't want to that's fine. But I want to stay right here, staring into your eyes while we come."

Jimmy slid a thumb down and wedged it between his pubes and my clit. He began moving it in small circles while I hugged him tight and ground my hips against him. It was sexually awesome even though it was a little awkward.

Before long, my intentional hip movements had become reflexive, instinctively urged thrusting. Because of the position, the total motion was maybe an inch at most. It was a hell of an inch, though. I was stretched until I felt his tip right up against my cervix, and my whole vulva was spread open, being brushed by his pubes. I could feel his pulse through my vaginal walls, and my contracting Kegel spasms indicated that climax was getting near. I took my chin off his shoulder, pulled back to look in his eyes, and told him I loved him. He hugged me tight, and I felt him surging deep inside me as I came around him.

~~~~

Sometime during the night, the electricity came back on. The kitchen light was on, and it woke me up. I got up and turned it off. There were people across the lake shooting skyrockets, and I smiled at the thought of the fireworks Jimmy and I had together.

Wednesday, July 3

The summer holiday was in full swing, featuring a bunch of assholes who thought jet ski racing at sunrise was a good idea. With the electricity back on, a sense of returning normalcy inevitably crept in. We had nothing in the refrigerator except beer, the couple remaining eggs, and half a block of cheese. But we could fish, and we had plenty of nonperishables from canned soup to pasta. We'd been able to plug in our phones, and texted Julie that we had power. Jimmy had an email from the city saying that his request would be in this morning's job list "but due to the unique nature of each situation, we regret that we cannot provide a time estimate."

We had done as much on the cabin rehabilitation as we could, under the circumstances. It was a nice morning, and hopefully the ripple of unstable weather was done for now. After breakfast, we went swimming, with appropriate attire this time, and came in for more lovemaking.

We had just gotten done fishing for some lunch, and were working on the mermaid/sailors puzzle while discussing recipes for the five bluegills we had swimming in desperate circles in the bucket, when we heard a diesel rumble and a loud blast on an air horn.

Trotting up the driveway, we saw a big articulated vehicle with a hydraulic claw. The claw lifted the fallen tree off the ground to stabilize it, and a crew cut off the top of the tree a few feet back from the roadway. The claw then lifted the rest of the tree and pivoted it around the root ball, laying it down parallel to the driveway. We waved our thanks to the crew, and one of them came over. It turned out he was a friend of Jimmy's, naturally, and he told us thanks for the good pictures and the GPS map. It had allowed them to preview the site with a drone, which might have been the noise I thought was a jet-ski. Jimmy introduced me as the homeowner and his girlfriend. The crew had to get going, though, and they promised each other to meet up for a beer sometime.

~~~~

We were free. We were able to get out, we had the power back on, and I felt so much less free than I had when we were cut off in the dark with just each other, a fireplace, and an air mattress.

I texted Julie pictures of the cleared tree. "Oh, and by the way your brother and I are madly in love with each other. ???? ????"

"???? You two get over here right now, I need to gush at you. So happy."

In a few seconds, she sent another. "Get dressed first. ???? ????"

"Your sister says now that we're able to get out, we have to go see her."

"Sure, we need to tell her about us." He pondered. "Well, maybe not everything."

I showed him the texts. "She's got a pretty good idea, I expect."

Jimmy just chuckled. "She's going to be proud as a peacock. We'll go over there, then see if the grocery stores are cleared out by people restocking their fridges."

I took the fishing bucket down to the lake and gave the bluegills a pardon. They swam off and vanished, to go lead their little underwater lives.

We got in Jimmy's truck, which would be much more able to handle any road debris or whatever, compared to my little rental. He drove us to Julie's, and she burst out of the house to hug me as I stepped out of the truck.

"Emily, how wonderful! My little brother is a wonderful man, I'm so glad you found each other."

"I'm so glad we did, too, sis. And she worked me so hard we are pretty much done with the place, in only a week and part of that week without power."

"You wore him down to a little nub, did you?"

"He's not that little" I winked at Julie. Jimmy's blush was stop-sign red. Julie high-fived me.

I counted on my fingers. "Counting today, Jimmy, that's eight days you've worked for me. I owe you twelve hundred dollars."

"If I work tomorrow, do I get time and a half?"

"I might even give you double time." I winked again.

Julie hugged me. "Can you be any better? You have to let me cook for you two."

Jimmy said, "Sure! We've been more or less living on pancakes, peanut butter, and lake fish for the last couple days."

"And even though Jimmy makes very good pancakes, we do need to get groceries. Have you been to the store? Is it pretty picked over?"

"It was chaotic on Monday, but I haven't been back since. Still, keeping stocked is vital to a grocery store, they must be getting trucks in all the time."

Julie cooked us a stir-fry with chicken, broccoli, pea pods, and shaved carrots, over rice.

While eating dinner, we discussed our situation.

"Okay. Emily. You have three problems to tackle. I am going to count you as family for the time being, on the assumption that whatever happens is built around you and Jimmy being together."

"That's a very good assumption." I squeezed Jimmy's hand.

"Problem one is that your job is in Boulder. You work remotely, but still have to have on-site visits occasionally, right?" I nodded. "So you'll need to spend a lot of time going back and forth, or else change jobs.

"Problem two is that working remotely from the cabin is not feasible, due to no real internet connection. Stringing any kind of cable is probably going to be way too expensive, unless they can still use DSL through the phone system, and that's crappy anyway.

"Problem three is that the cabin is not winterized, so year-round occupation is not feasible. I mentioned the maintenance fund, which is allowed to cover 'major and minor improvements'. I think this definitely counts as a 'major improvement'. There's no way that is going to get bid and completed before you need it, though. For next year is maybe feasible."

"Okay. I like my work. And just so you know, flying on the company dime is okay -- especially since it is written policy that the frequent flier miles may be applied to a personal account. Ever been to Hawaii, Jimmy?"

Grinning, he replied, "Just don't get sunburned."

"Will you help apply the sunscreen?" I winked.

"Jeez, get a room, you two. Speaking of which, now that I watch most of my media on my tablet, I've found I don't really spend much time watching my big TV in the den. So, to solve the second problem, you can use my den for a home office if that sounds good. I will be at Deere & Massey during the day most of the time." Julie looked thoughtful for a moment. "And there are a lot of houses around here that are vacation rentals all summer and have absentee owners. I bet you could rent one cheap during the off-season, which can temporarily solve problem three."

"Maybe even get hired as caretakers -- an inverse rent." Jimmy was brainstorming. "I might be able to put together a business case why a paid resident caretaker would be good, especially if a landlord owned several properties."

"If you need a reference about your skills, tell them to call me."

"Which skills? Making pancakes, fishing, or the other one?"

"Jimmy, you got skills you better not use on anybody else. I was talking about the way you identify and fix problems. It's a brilliant idea, and Julie, you are a pretty good problem-solver too."

We hugged, all three of us.