She had no boyfriends ever, but she had me. My name is Nell; I was her neighbor back up in the hills of the Blue Ridge.
We lived alone, she was an orphan and I was widowed. Sally described me as Venus in the flesh, and my husband before he died at some French village also called me a doll. She measured me and told me I was 5’3”, I weigh about 100 pounds and with sandy blonde hair to my ankles, I was always getting it tangled. I am 36C-22-34, tanned from working my garden everyday and my brown eyes look good so Sally told me.
We met when I got my hair twisted in a maple tree branch when I walked down the trail between our cabins. She heard me cry for help and freed me. She was so wild looking, sort of like a red headed Mohawk with curls, and a pudgy little belly like a dwarf. She also was the sweetest human I ever knew. She made honey seem like salt.
I had moved into the house when my husband and I married two weeks short of my 24th birthday. He was drafted the next week and for a present I kissed him goodbye one last time. Now on the anniversary of his death and my 26th birthday I ran into Sally.
She was so kind to help me and gentle at removing it. We went to the stream and she used her handkerchief to wipe the makeup streaks from my tears. Then she sat beside me and we talked. After a few hours of simple chat, we went to her cabin for dinner. Now I thought I was a gardener and a cook, but she was a breath of fresh air. Her biscuits were to die for, and the home made gravy and fried chicken were the best I ever ate.
She was only 22 and told me how she had been alone for the last ten years. She seldom if ever went to town for supplies and had learned to fend for herself for so long that she w... Læs hele novellen
