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Jennifer

I was twelve.

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"Martin, sit down, I need to speak to you. Man to man," said Grandpa, patting a spot next to him on the yard swing.

"Yes sir," I said.

"I can't pick your friends for you," he started, "but Bobby Selmer is a no account, and I'm going to tell you why."

I knew where this was going, he overheard the other boy teasing me about liking a girl at school. He got pretty graphic about it too, and my grandfather called him down.

We had been helping the old man put out onion sets, well, I had. Bobby kind of walked along beside me in the next row. He'd hand me one now and again to look busy.

"Son, I'm going to share some knowledge every man should know, something I learned over a lifetime. When a young girl decides to give you the gift of her body, she doesn't do so lightly."

Grandpa got real serious.

"To a lot of men, joining with a woman is a carnal pleasure, to her, well, she wraps her emotions around it, the very heart of her soul goes into that act of love and if she picks you to receive it, you damned well better respect her for it. It is an honor to be deserving of her affection. Get past the physical part, and open your heart to her, and you will find something more valuable than treasure. Something wonderful, like your Grandma and I had."

Grandpa looked me straight in the eye and held my gaze.

"For a man to disrespect that, is worse than slapping a girl in the face. Too many times that's the result of young relationships, are you following me boy?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"Don't you dishonor me, or your family, by not remembering this! Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I don't care if you find yourself in the arms of a trollop. There is a tragic past that brought her to you. You honor that!"

I never forgot what my Grandfather told me. Grandpa died in his garden the next day.

I was seventeen, it was July.

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My father moved his crop dusting service to the family farm when Grandpa passed. The old man left the place to his only child, my dad.

I'm the youngest of five, four sisters, ahead of me.

Four sections of prime Kansas farmland. My father raised grain on one half and livestock, beef, on the other. I stayed busy helping him.

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Our family kept all sorts of animals. My dad didn't consider himself a "prepper," but we lived like it. The earth provided for us.

Jennifer Rankin was the prettiest girl ever! Her father, a dentist, moved his family to our small town to start his practice when we were both in 3rd grade. She sat next to me in our classroom because of the alphabet! Thank goodness I'm a Rascomb!

Jenn liked horses, on account of she drew them all the time. She excelled at drawing. She gave me a framed sketch of my buckskin quarter horse, Ralph, for my birthday once. I still have it.

I think her love of horses led her to our place. Jennifer was my older sister, Maisey's, friend. Sometimes, when she visited, I would saddle up my gelding along with a gentle mare she favored. Most times my sister stayed behind, she didn't care much for riding.

She and I grew closer after Maisey left for the university. Jenn still came over as often. I heard Papa tell Mama once he thought the girl always came to visit me and being friends with Maisey was an excellent excuse to do so. I liked to entertain the thought because I enjoyed being near her.

That was a glorious season; we were going to be seniors starting September. We spent hours sharing plans about college and talked about the future. I think Jenn came to our house every day during the summer. Jenn and I became inseparable, but we were only friends.

July. Yes, I think I said it was July, and the weather pleasant, not so hot as to make the day uncomfortable. Jenn arrived, and we laughed and chatted awhile on the porch swing, then walked together to the stables to ready the horses for an afternoon ride.

Papa wanted me to check on the herd in the upper pasture. It was further than we usually went, but that was fine by me. I could spend the extra time with this beautiful friend of mine.

I stashed a couple of bottles of Coca-Cola in my saddle bags on top of my fence mending tools and Jenn and Mom fix us turkey sandwiches.

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Billowy cumulonimbus clouds built in the east as we left. I figured it would storm by late evening. Typical weather for early July.

As we passed the boundary between wheat fields and pasture, the clouds gathered, and thunder rumbled in the distance. We found a section of fence down and spent the next thirty minutes rounding up the cows that wandered into the maturing grain.
By the time we had the livestock back into the grass, and out of Papa's crops, the storm was on us. I finished with the enclosure about the time the first gigantic drops began to pelt us.

At the far end of the grassland stood an old barn where we stored hay, so we mounted and raced through the downpour to shelter. When we got to the shed, I jumped down and handed Jenn the reins. I opened the gate for her to ride through.

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Jennifer wore a white linen blouse that went almost transparent when drenched. I was staring at her over the back of my horse when she saw me looking. She blushed and folded her arms across her breast. I felt my ears burn with shame. How could I have been so disrespectful?

"Uh, I think Mom may have some old clothes and maybe something to dry off within some boxes back in one of those stables," I told her.

I knew she did because I had helped her put them there. They were things she planned to take to the Good Will in the city the next time she and Papa went.

I broke a bale of alfalfa open and loaded a manger for the horses, then I unsaddled them and used the straw to wipe the water from their wet coats. I glanced up, and Jenn was standing there, wrapped in an old quilt.

"You look warm!" I said.

Jenn smiled at me and gave me that expression a person has when they have a difficult decision to make but are unsure of what to choose.

'What?" I asked.

Her face softened, and she dropped the blanket. There was no doubt; she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I couldn't stop staring. She stood in front of me, naked. I gulped and looked up at her smiling face, she reached out her hand and beckoned me to take it, then ushered me into the depths of the old shed.

In an empty stable, she had spread fresh straw and covered it with an old quilt. Her damp garments laid over the top rail.

We didn't speak. I watched the girl undid my buttons. She neatly placed my jeans and shirt and small clothes beside her own.

We lay down, and I pulled the other cover over us. I don't remember the whole conversation, but I know we talked softly about the love we felt. Jennifer told me she wouldn't be laying with me unless she hadn't been sure I had the same feelings for her as she did for me. She chastised me for not telling her how I felt. You have to wake up and smell the coffee boy!

I confessed I had loved her since the 3rd grade and we gradually relaxed and cuddled and kissed each other. I wasn't able to keep my attraction for her a secret, and when her leg brushed against me, I blushed. She took my face in her hands and said, "No, don't try to hide it, this is where I want to be, with you."

It was awkward. We had no experience. Jennifer parted her legs for me, and we positioned her little body beneath mine. We touched, there was resistance when I pushed, but of a sudden, I felt myself penetrate her.

We gasped together, me from exquisite pleasure, her from the pain of my invasion. Our eyes met, both surprised. A tear dropped from the corner of her eye, and I started to pull back, appalled that I had caused the girl I loved pain.

Jenn held me tight to her breast and whispered, "No, silly, my heart swells with love for you, they are happy tears."

"But, I've hurt you!"

"It will pass," she said.

Her hands moved down my back, and she pulled me deeper inside of her.

I could lie and say we made love for hours, but I was a 17-year-old boy with no experience. I remember laying with my face in the nape of her neck, not caring if she noticed me sobbing into her shoulder. That sweet girl and I passed into adulthood together, the most magnificent surrender of innocence we could have imagined.

Jennifer and I visited the stable many times that summer, and through the autumn, and winter and spring too.

We were young and eager to discover each other as lovers. It was the happiest time of my life.

I'd like to say there is a fairy tale ending, but then it wouldn't be real life. We parted in the fall, each going off to a different school, hers was out of state. We got to know other people and had many more sweethearts before we found our spouses.

Jennifer lives in Detroit now with three happy children and a husband that loves her.

I still work this land in Kansas. Papa died last winter, we think of loneliness after Mom's cancer took her.

I saw Jenn last week at our high school reunion. I met her husband, a real nice guy. We shared family pictures on the iPhones. She has three grandchildren!

It was time to go, and we hugged, and she took my hand in both of hers.

Marty, I want to thank you. I want to thank you for respecting me all those years ago.

I watched her walk out of that gym with another man's arm around her waist.

My Grandpa was a wise man I thought.

I slipped my arm around my wife and pulled her close.

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I hope you liked this little tale.
I don't live in Kansas and never have,
so remember, it's only fiction!

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