Stolen Moments

by DebC

"Stolen Moments"

The loft was quiet except for the soft rustle of loose hay and gently whispered endearments coming from one secluded corner behind some newly stacked bales. They shouldn't be there, Jonathan Kent knew that from the logical part of his mind. There was work to be done, and it couldn't be accomplished while lazing about on a Saturday afternoon. But Clark was gone for the afternoon--off with Chloe or Pete or maybe even Lex--and his wife's red hair fanned out across his denim-clad lap was enough incentive for him to remain in their rustic utopia a little longer. In this semi-private niche of the barn, they could pretend that nothing else mattered. There were no chores to do or bills to pay, just themselves and just this one moment they'd stolen from heaven. Times like this were so few these days between all their problems with the farm and Clark's everincreasing abilities, and Jonathan knew better than to look this gift horse in the mouth. A moment alone with the love of his life should be taken full advantage of when he got one and enjoyed to its fullest.

Reaching out, he smoothed her hair with his hand, brushing away a piece of dry hay lodged among the fiery red. It was soft and oh-so tempting just to lie there and stroke each strand, being idle as he worshipped her beauty. He loved her hair. He loved the way the sunlight caught each highlight and made them glow with warmth. He loved the way it smelled at night when he held her to him and breathed deep, after the fruity sent of her shampoo had faded and only the mild scent of her remained, clean and feminine.

Lately, she'd begun to worry about going gray and even mentioned--only semi-joking-- coloring her hair. She said she'd considering buying a home coloring kit, just to read the ingredients and do some comparisons. His wife was not a vain woman, but Jonathan knew she worried about the day when she would no longer be attractive. That day would be a long time coming, in his opinion.

Martha was as beautiful--if not more so now--as the day he first met her, and he thanked his lucky stars for each day they'd shared together since their wedding. He was a simple man, not one for fancy words, but if anyone asked him, he would tell them she was his everything: his heart, his soul, and his greatest dream. He would do anything, no, everything for her if she but asked it of him.

Shifting lower into the hay, and pulling her tightly to him, he snuggled closer. "I love you," he whispered, using grossly inadequate words to express the emotions he felt for her. He was rewarded, all the same, with a gentle kiss and a smile.

"And I you, always," she replied, playing with the buttons of his flannel shirt in an attempt to undo them.

Outside their hidden paradise, Clark would be returning soon. He might even look for them, if they weren't in their usual places. That, however--as every farmer knew--was part of the inherent thrill of a roll in the hay. How to do it without getting caught. It was a thrill he was thankful that he and Martha were still young enough to indulge in.

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