It was just past noon when Ashton walked into her kitchen. She wasn’t hungry, but decided it was time she made herself take in some nourishment, as her clothes were beginning to sag on her already lean frame, and she didn’t need to lose any more weight. The fresh fruits and vegetables had long since been thrown away, having taken on the look of old shrunken heads seen on a late night horror show. So that left her with a choice of something frozen or canned in the cupboard. She looked in the freezer without interest and then shut it with a snap. Nope, nothing of interest there. The cupboards held little more interest, but she finally settled on a can of chicken noodle soup that was tucked in the corner of one of the shelves.
She heated it up and dipped a modest amount into her bowl before sitting down at the kitchen table. She swirled the noodles around and around in the steaming broth with out taking one bite. The steam rising from the bowl smelled good, finally tempting her to sample a small spoonful. Her eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise as she realized that it tasted good. In fact, with her second spoonful her appetite came roaring back. She attacked the bowl as if it was going to be her last meal, gulping down the soup, not minding that it burned her tongue, and not coming up for air until it was empty. She got up and brought the pot to the table, pouring the rest of the soup into her empty dish. She bent over the steaming dish and, again, devoured the contents. Only when nothing remained in the bowl, did she sit back in her chair and relax. She realized that this was the best she’d felt, since finding out Sam had left.
With the thought of Sam, her stomach clenched and almost rebelled. Ashton placed her hands, palms down, on the table and took a few deep breaths, bringing her belly and her emotions under control. Get a grip, she thought. He’s gone and not coming back. He’d never even bothered to call, and she must face the fact that he was done with her before anything could get started. It would be very easy to let herself be depressed and give up, but, with a squaring of her shoulders, Ashton shook off the feelings that had dragged her down of late. She still had time to live and there were things she wanted to do and to see. If she had to do them by herself, then she would.
Ashton got up from the table and washed her dishes clean, setting them in the drainer to dry. She wiped her hands on her pants and decided the next order of business would be to take a bath, since it had been a few days since she had taken one. Not that she had done anything to get dirty or smelly; it was just that she suddenly felt a need to stand under the hot water and cleanse her body, and maybe even her mind. She would send all her negative thoughts swirling down the drain and have a fresh outlook on the life she had left.
She took the stairs two at a time and rushed to get into the shower, dropping clothes wherever they landed. She stepped into the shower and enjoyed a long, hot, renewing soak. The hot water worked it’s magic, seeming to bring her back to life, and she got out feeling like a new woman.
She was not sure why she had all this energy all of a sudden, but it felt good to be moving and doing things. She dressed in fresh jeans and a light sweater, then picked up her dirty clothes from where she had haphazardly discarded them on the floor, raced down the stairs, and placed them in the washer with a pile of other laundry that had accumulated in the hamper.
Again she took the stairs two at a time, as she made her way back to her bedroom and stripped the sheets from the bed. She replaced them with crisp, clean ones, made from Egyptian cotton. She held them to her face for a moment, feeling the cool softness of their fiber and breathing in their fresh, mountain air goodness. Yum, she thought. Was there anything better then fresh smelling sheets? She fluffed the pillows into their cases and took the comforter out to hang on the old line in the back yard. By the time she was ready for bed this evening, it would have absorbed the freshness and pine smell of the woods. She was going to sleep well tonight, she decided. She needed it.
She spent the afternoon dusting and rearranging her cabin. She threw open the windows and watched as the curtains danced in the fresh air that moved in and took up residence. She turned on the TV, which she and Sam had had connected during their trip to town, for noise, and to give her company. She had never gotten into soap operas, and there was nothing else on, so she left it low and paid no attention to what was being said. It was just background static to fill the otherwise quiet walls. Ashton kept herself busy all afternoon making her home clean and cozy. She should have done this a long time ago, she thought, but she was doing it now and that was okay with her.
As the sun began to set, she went outside and retrieved her bedding from the line, took it upstairs and spread it over her clean sheets. The whole room filled with the scent of outdoors, and Ashton smiled. She placed a vase of wildflowers, that she had spotted growing in her yard, on the nightstand beside the bed and turned the lamp on low. It looked so inviting, she was tempted to succumb to the urge to curl up and take a nap.
The rumbling in her stomach changed her mind, and she made her way to the kitchen to make herself some supper. Her attitude and appetite was much improved from the last time she had eaten. She realized, with a smile, that she was ravenous after her afternoon of cleaning, and began looking through the cupboards for the makings of a hearty meal. Her search revealed a jar of Prego spaghetti sauce, her favorite, a can of Green Giant niblets corn, and some sliced, canned peaches in thick sauce for desert. There was a bag of angel hair pasta in one of the drawers that she set to boiling on top of the stove. After turning on the flame under the sauce and vegetables, she went in search of bread to finish off her menu. She found a loaf that was slightly stale, but not moldy, sliced off two thick pieces, slathered them with butter and garlic salt, and placed them in the oven to heat. She opened a bottle of white wine she and Sam had splurged on while shopping, and poured herself a glass. She placed the bottle on the table, then took dishes from the cupboard and silverware from the drawer, and set the table, lighting a candle in the middle for ambience. Standing back, she clapped her hands at the inviting site, then turned her attention back to the preparation of her meal.
The noodles were tender and the sauce bubbling in the pot, so she drained the spaghetti and poured the two together into a large bowl, stirring until the noodles were wet with the thick, zesty sauce. She added butter to the corn and pulled the toasted bread from the oven. It was not five-star but it looked good and smelled even better. The aroma in the kitchen was enough to make her mouth water as she settled into her chair with the feast in front of her.
Once again she ate everything she’d prepared, noticing each particular flavor and texture as the food touched her tongue, was swirled around in her mouth, and found its way into her stomach. Ashton pushed back from the table and patted her full stomach with satisfaction when she was done. Maybe she should lean back, belch, loosen her belt and smack her lips, like she’d seen people do on TV after a particularly satisfying meal. She had never done anything so gross, and even though she was by herself and could do anything she wanted, she decided it was not her style.
Instead she got up, ran some hot, soapy water in the sink, and washed her dishes. She placed them into the drainer to dry and be put away tomorrow, before pouring the remainder of the wine into her glass, and making her way into the living room.
She set her wine on the end table beside the couch, and squatted before the dark fireplace, deciding a small cheery blaze might be just the ticket to warm the cabin which had become chilly with the setting of the sun. She would sit and watch the flames before going up to bed.
She laid the logs, tucked some kindling into them, and struck a match, watching as the small flame turned into a dancing fire within minutes. She had a knack for making fire come to life, a true mountain girl if there ever was one. Wrapping a light blanket around herself, she tucked her feet up underneath her bottom and settled on the small sofa, which she had moved before the fireplace today. She slowly sipped her wine and lost herself in the dancing of the flames.
Mesmerized by the magic of the dancing flames and warmed by the clear liquid in her glass, Ashton’s muscles unwound and her dark green eyes no longer fought to stay open. She relaxed into the cushions, settling into the corner with her blanket wrapped tightly around her. Warm and safe in her little nest, she gave in to the urge to close her eyes and drifted into a contented sleep.