The Blouse

"Here we are," Henry said, throwing open the door to the airy bedroom.

I walked into the room and ran my fingers over the bumps of thread in the quilt laying across the bed. "Was it Kate's room?"

"No. She was down the hall across from my room. So this is okay? I didn't want you to feel..." he trailed off.

"It's perfect." I looked up to see him staring at me with a heated look. I fought the urge to jump in his arms.

"Right. Okay," taking a deep breath, Henry set my suitcase on the bed. "I'll just let you unpack."

Following him to the door, I watched him walk down the hall. As he disappeared down the stairs, I grinned. After two months of phone calls and emails, I was finally at the ranch for two golden weeks.

Humming under my breath I opened my suitcase and pulled out my clothes, carefully hanging them up. I smiled at the sight of my jeans and tops next to Henry's winter coats.

A glint caught my eye as I turned towards the bed. Curious, I looked deeper into the closet, moving until I saw the reflected bit of sunshine again. Reaching in, I pulled out a purple calico blouse with tiny pink flowers and pearl snaps. Giving it a quick shake, I coughed as dust flew in the air. Now, why on earth would there be a blouse in the closet?

Shrugging, I tossed it across a chair and finished unpacking. As I was pushing the suitcase into the closet, I heard Henry come down the hallway. Looking up, I saw him leaning against the doorway, a lecherous grin on his face, his eyes glued to my butt. I snapped to attention, blushing. "I'm all done!"

"Uh-huh."

"Um, how about checking out the barn?" I asked, willing my face to cool off.

"Right," he drawled, walking towards me.

"Oh! I found this." I tossed him the blouse. He caught it, the smile fading from his face.

"Where?"

"It was in the back of the closet." I gestured watching as his fingers ran lovingly over the buttons, his rough skin catching the soft cotton.

"Is it Kate's?"

"No," he said, looking up at me with a small, sad smile. "It was Georgie's."

"Who's Georgie?"

"My wife."

"You're married?!"

"Widowed. I thought you knew about Georgie," he said, confused.

"Oh God. I'm so - I didn't know." I swallowed the lump that lodged in my throat at the sadness I saw in his eyes. "How long?"

"Almost ten years now."

"How did she die?" I whispered.

"Cancer."

I sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat next to me and reached for my hand. I waited in silence while I watched dust motes dance in the sunlight beaming in from the window.

"We got married when we were eighteen. I'd known her all my life." He looked at me with a ghost of a grin. "I used to tease her nonstop. And then, one day, I stopped teasing and started loving. Our parents wanted us to wait until we graduated college, but we were in such a hurry to start our lives. We barely waited until we graduated high school."

I ran my fingers along his knuckles, listening to him talk about a girl with golden hair and cornflower blue eyes. He told me about their first years of marriage, living in a small apartment while going to school.

"She was diagnosed when she was twenty. We were scared but never thought that it'd kill her. And then, one morning, she left. Slipped right out of the room, with me and her mom and her dad sitting around her."

He tugged on one of my curls. I looked up into his solemn eyes as he wiped away my tears with his thumb.

"Ellie. I never thought to hide Georgie from you."

"I know."

"I loved her. I'll always love her, but," he leaned down and softly kissed my lips. "I've moved on with my life. I'm not a broken man."

This is a continuation of Henry and Ellie's story inspired by The Red Dress Club writing prompt: "Write a piece about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet. Let us know how the item was found, what it is, and why it's so meaningful to you or your character."

If you haven't read the rest of Henry and Ellie's story, you can find it - wait! I have a brilliant idea! You can find it under the new tab heading above called "Fictional Mandyland". God, I'm good.

Critique is always welcome.