He came to the store the next day towards evening and said, again haltingly, ‘You are fine?’ ‘Yes, I am. Thank you.’ ‘This is your store?’...‘It was my husband’s. He died and now it is mine.’ ‘I see.’ ‘Do you live here?’ ‘I have a small farm. I live by creek and I fish.’ ‘Oh, you fish, do you? Which creek is this? I like to fish, too’ There was a pause in our conversation and then he struggled for words, saying, ‘Miss Jackson, you fish with me tomorrow?’ I was taken aback by his forwardness, but. Of love, happiness…hope…I started these after I met Holden. ‘No.’ How could such a transformation occur over one meeting? It was as if Holden was a hurricane. I was a neat little town—my buildings were quaint and orderly before the winds and waves of his masculinity tore through me. I was left a wreck. ‘Even more reason to forget about him,’ I said, filing my drawings back into their respective folders. When I dealt solely with David, I had a plan. Everything in my life was laid out in. More

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