My Little Farm Girl

Chapter 12: GABRIELLA

The smirk on her face was ugly and distorted. Should I tell her that, in fact, the others did know of my background since I hadn't seen any reason to keep it from them when they'd asked?

I wasn't ashamed of my life back home; just because I wanted something different didn't mean that I would change anything about the life I'd led, except maybe where no one had asked me to the prom or out on a Saturday night, but those were minor.

In the end, I held my tongue and waited for whatever spell had befallen her to pass. I suppose my silent acquiescence satisfied her this time because, without another word, she turned and left the room. That warm glow I'd been enjoying was long gone, and I snuck down the hallway to the washroom to take a quick shower.

I'd already been warned about being wasteful in the shower. I longed for a nice hot soak but was sure that was out as well. When the misery of my situation threatened to choke me, I battled it back. It was only for a time, I told myself; nothing is forever.

It was only on Monday of the following week that I knew why I hadn't seen Callan. I'd decided that I could call him that to myself; how was she to know after all? Anyway, the buzz around the office was that he had been away, some last-minute thing at one of his other businesses, but that he'd been spotted coming into the building this morning.

That's when I also learned that along with the magazine, he owned a movie studio and a newspaper, as well as a whole slew of other things that I couldn't wrap my head around. The man I'd met hadn't seemed like the mogul type, but apparently, that's what he was.

I was like a sponge soaking up every ounce of information I could get about him. Of course, all the girls thought he was the hottest thing on two legs, though none of them had ever spent any real time with him.

They all seemed to think he was this bigger-than-life persona, way beyond their reach, and nothing at all like the man I remembered buying me a burger and talking to me about my dreams.

I tried to keep my interest well-hidden and was sure I had succeeded since no one seemed to catch on to my infantile crush. I pretended ignorance whenever his name came up, and that just garnered me more information.

All the while, as I bustled around from place to place carrying out aunt Marion's orders, I felt more and more depressed. Now I knew I could never have him. If these girls who were way more sophisticated and beautiful than I didn't think they stood a chance, then there was no way I would ever be in the running.

Not to mention the fact that I still didn't know what had gone on between him and Aunt Marion before I came here. And if she was his type, then I'd already lost the race before it began.

She might be a bit touched in the head, but she still is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, and that's including some of the models I'd seen going in and out of the building in the last week.

She is the typical blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty with a body that most girls half her age would die for. It was hard to believe that she was the same age as momma, not that momma looked old or anything; it's just that Aunt Marion had access to certain things that momma didn't, that kept her looking years younger. I don't think momma's homemade skin potions could keep up with whatever aunt Marion could afford.

It was too bad about her personality, though, or whatever sickness made her lash out sporadically. Without that little hitch, the woman would've been almost perfect.

So it stands to reason that if she couldn't hold onto Callan, then there was no way I was going to, granted I could even catch him in the first place.

I lowered my red face as I sat at my desk, going over the papers I'd just been handed. I had to proof something for my aunt before she sent it off to copy. The butterflies in my stomach kept me from concentrating, and I read the same line three times before it made any sense to me.

There was no guarantee that I would even see him, but just knowing he was back had me on pins and needles all day. By the end of the day, when there was still no sign of him, I finally relaxed, though the disappointment was like a bitter pill.

Aunt Marion seemed a little on edge when we got home that evening, and I wondered if it had anything to do with him being back. I would just die if he came to see her. I don't know why I felt this strongly about it; I just knew that I couldn't bear it seeing those two together.

I did my usual nightly ritual of a rushed bite to eat in the kitchen before hiding myself away in my room. All that night, I tossed and turned as I worried about whether or not I'd see him again. I was actually starting to lose some of the memories of him, the way his hair curled, or that crinkle at the corner of his eye when he smiled. They were so crisp and clear in the beginning; now they were fading fast.