Free Under the Sassafras by Hattie Mae

cleared out, both of you can help.” Kissing them on their heads, she smiled. “Later, alligator.”
    “ After while, crocodile,” Ozamae replied.
    Mansir wrapped cheese in a slice of bread, then gulped down the last swallow of milk,. “Let's go.” For the first time in days he felt like a man, off to do a days work.
    For most of the morning they sawed, pulled and piled scrub brush and vines.
    “We'll burn these on a day that promises rain and only a little wind,” Joelette said.
    Mansir watched Joel ette's slender figure bend with each pull of a vine. Her jeans were well worn, faded and patched in a few places, but they molded to her gentle curves nicely. Her t-shirt was tucked into the waistband, and the muscles in her narrow back contracted with each motion.
    Joelette straightened and glanced at Mansir leaning on his hoe. “Do we need to stop for a while and cool off?” she asked. “You look pale. You’re not going to faint, are you?”
    “ I don’t faint.” Mansir said
    Joelette poured them each a glass of water. “This is going to take more time than I hoped. I don't know if we can finish before the planting season is over.” Her brow furrowed as she spoke, clearly concerned.
    “ You know this only represents a couple of hours work. Besides the boys can soon help. Or hinder,” he added with a smile, trying to lighten her mood.
    But his attempt at a little humor didn’t change her expression. “Why don't we just break for lunch?” she suggested. “We can sit under my tree. I’m sure you’re hungry.”
    She laid the quilt beneath the tree. They sat side-by-side, neither speaking while she dug around in the picnic basket. As she’d suggested, he was hungry, surprisingly so considering the size of his breakfast that morning.
    “So what's for lunch?” he asked.
    “ I didn't fix us much, but it will fuel our bodies. A couple of fried egg sandwiches and cold potato pancakes.”
    They ate in silence. And Mansir enjoyed the food and pondered the woman next to him.
    Joelette was a captivating woman. She had a loving but firm hand she used to guide her sons, and a no-nonsense way she looked at life. He didn’t know if he came from money or was as hard working as she was, but he admired the way she made the most of every day, no matter what it held.
    And though he hadn’t seen it nearly often enough, he found her smile utterly intoxicating. A smile that almost made the fact that he didn’t know who he was, fade into the background.
    He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever felt like this about a woman? Was there another woman waiting for him somewhere? It seemed like if he loved some woman he’d still feel it somewhere inside him.
    “ What are you thinking about?” Joelette's voice broke him free from his thoughts. “You have a strange look on your face.”
    “ About my past. Wondering what I might have left behind, if there are people missing me.” He shook his head. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
    She placed her hand on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her touch through his sleeve. “You can talk it out. It might help, maybe shake some things loose.”
    He eyed her for a moment before asking, “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
    Joelette nodded.
    She removed her hand leaving a noticeably empty spot on his shoulder. A broken connection.
    Mansir lay back on the quilt. “I suppose it feels somewhat like I'm an empty shell, a body without insides. I try imagining a future, without a past.” He leaned up on one elbow. “It's scary, Joelette. I don't even have my own underwear and no means to buy any. Do you have any idea how it feels to wear another man's underwear, to go by a made up name, and to have no way to take care of myself? What kind of man does that make me?”
    The sadness in Joelette's eyes stopped him. Holding eye contact a moment too long, he thought he saw concern flicker across her face. Or maybe it was pity? Mansir sat and stared at the work still