of coffee down the stairs. Eric was in her kitchen. The man could hardly hobble around, but he'd made coffee.
In fact, he was cooking breakfast.
"Good morning." He smiled at her as he poured her a cup of coffee. There was mischief in his eyes as he set the cup on the breakfast bar.
"You didn't have to do this." It was disconcerting to have the roles reversed. Had a man ever cooked breakfast for her?
"Habit," Eric said. "I always cooked Sunday breakfast when I was married."
The undercurrent of loneliness in his voice touched her.
"What happened to your wife?"
"I came back from my first tour – everything had changed. I thought it was her. Now I'm not so sure. Maybe I could have fixed it. But I didn't know how. By the time I got back from my second tour, it was too late."
"I'm sorry." June could see his pain. She looked away. "How are you feeling?"
"I hurt like hell." Eric ran a hand down his flank. "My ass is black and blue."
"I'll drive you into town," June promised. "We'll get your prescription filled."
"This is a nice place." He indicated the house.
"It's been in the family a long time. First my grandparents lived here, then my Aunt Lizzie, now me." June shrugged to hide the fact it still hurt to talk about it. "I took care of Aunt Lizzie when she got sick. Then I inherited the house and five acres when she passed on."
"This is a big house for one person."
"Yeah," June shrugged. "I hear that a lot."
Eric raised an eyebrow.
"My sister has been after me to sell the house to her. She's got a husband, three kids and a dog all crammed into an apartment." June sighed. "I take a lot of crap from her."
"It's a buyer's market," Eric shook his head. "Down by Cincinnati houses are cheap. It's finding a job that's hard."
"Here, too," June agreed. "I'd love to get a better job, but there aren't any jobs within 50 miles. I'd have to drive to Cleveland or Erie."
He served her eggs and potatoes with a side of toast.
"Thanks," June said as she sipped her coffee.
They chatted more as they ate, then split the clean up. It was clear to her that he was feeling the full effects of the crash. As soon as they were done, she offered to take him to the pharmacy.
The shortest way into town was down State Road. June drove down the winding hill into the Gulf, a huge ravine where the Ashtabula River ran amongst the trees. The leaves were turning, bright against the gray shale cliffs and the rippling water.
"It's pretty here," Eric remarked. Later, as they wove through town, his attitude changed. The houses were old, the streets needed repairs, there was an air of being run down and tired. "Is this town stuck in a time warp?"
"The town dried up in the 70's." June shrugged as she navigated around the pot-holes and crumbling streets. "The drug-store was the first place built in maybe 50 years or more. The mall went in next, but even that isn't doing well."
"I've seen third world countries that looked better than this. The sky is cloudy; the streets have pot-holes as big as man-holes. The houses look neglected. Doesn't anybody give a damn?"
"My Aunt Lizzie used to say that Ashtabula was cursed," June replied. "There was a railroad accident back at the turn of the last century. The bridge collapsed and hundreds of people were trapped in burning rail cars." She shook her head. "The story is the residents came down into the Gulf, but instead of saving those trapped inside, they robbed them and left them to burn. Aunt Lizzie said a dying preacher cursed the town. Nothing has been right since."
"No shit?" Eric made a disapproving noise as he looked around. He put on his dark glasses and a poker face.
June rolled her eyes – he had no idea what it was like to live here. She hadn't told him half of it – the toxic waste dumps, the radioactive waste. Well, why should she give him more reason to get uppity about it?
When they walked into the obviously new, chain-owned drug store, it was crowded with seniors and women with kids. Eric
In fact, he was cooking breakfast.
"Good morning." He smiled at her as he poured her a cup of coffee. There was mischief in his eyes as he set the cup on the breakfast bar.
"You didn't have to do this." It was disconcerting to have the roles reversed. Had a man ever cooked breakfast for her?
"Habit," Eric said. "I always cooked Sunday breakfast when I was married."
The undercurrent of loneliness in his voice touched her.
"What happened to your wife?"
"I came back from my first tour – everything had changed. I thought it was her. Now I'm not so sure. Maybe I could have fixed it. But I didn't know how. By the time I got back from my second tour, it was too late."
"I'm sorry." June could see his pain. She looked away. "How are you feeling?"
"I hurt like hell." Eric ran a hand down his flank. "My ass is black and blue."
"I'll drive you into town," June promised. "We'll get your prescription filled."
"This is a nice place." He indicated the house.
"It's been in the family a long time. First my grandparents lived here, then my Aunt Lizzie, now me." June shrugged to hide the fact it still hurt to talk about it. "I took care of Aunt Lizzie when she got sick. Then I inherited the house and five acres when she passed on."
"This is a big house for one person."
"Yeah," June shrugged. "I hear that a lot."
Eric raised an eyebrow.
"My sister has been after me to sell the house to her. She's got a husband, three kids and a dog all crammed into an apartment." June sighed. "I take a lot of crap from her."
"It's a buyer's market," Eric shook his head. "Down by Cincinnati houses are cheap. It's finding a job that's hard."
"Here, too," June agreed. "I'd love to get a better job, but there aren't any jobs within 50 miles. I'd have to drive to Cleveland or Erie."
He served her eggs and potatoes with a side of toast.
"Thanks," June said as she sipped her coffee.
They chatted more as they ate, then split the clean up. It was clear to her that he was feeling the full effects of the crash. As soon as they were done, she offered to take him to the pharmacy.
The shortest way into town was down State Road. June drove down the winding hill into the Gulf, a huge ravine where the Ashtabula River ran amongst the trees. The leaves were turning, bright against the gray shale cliffs and the rippling water.
"It's pretty here," Eric remarked. Later, as they wove through town, his attitude changed. The houses were old, the streets needed repairs, there was an air of being run down and tired. "Is this town stuck in a time warp?"
"The town dried up in the 70's." June shrugged as she navigated around the pot-holes and crumbling streets. "The drug-store was the first place built in maybe 50 years or more. The mall went in next, but even that isn't doing well."
"I've seen third world countries that looked better than this. The sky is cloudy; the streets have pot-holes as big as man-holes. The houses look neglected. Doesn't anybody give a damn?"
"My Aunt Lizzie used to say that Ashtabula was cursed," June replied. "There was a railroad accident back at the turn of the last century. The bridge collapsed and hundreds of people were trapped in burning rail cars." She shook her head. "The story is the residents came down into the Gulf, but instead of saving those trapped inside, they robbed them and left them to burn. Aunt Lizzie said a dying preacher cursed the town. Nothing has been right since."
"No shit?" Eric made a disapproving noise as he looked around. He put on his dark glasses and a poker face.
June rolled her eyes – he had no idea what it was like to live here. She hadn't told him half of it – the toxic waste dumps, the radioactive waste. Well, why should she give him more reason to get uppity about it?
When they walked into the obviously new, chain-owned drug store, it was crowded with seniors and women with kids. Eric
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