"Here's Looking at You, Kid!"

The beautiful, liquid-filled eyes stared and stared at Hal. He tried to ignore them.

What else was there to do? Nothing much was happening on the farm that
afternoon, except for the sun starting to throw long shadows across the fields
and toward the stone house where Sally had lived all her life.

Life on the farm was appealing. Hal was a city boy, born and bred, but Sally
was good enough to change his urban ways. He was resourceful enough to know how
to pack the meal he'd been planning for a while.

Now, as the eyes continued to watch him, he reached into the pack and pulled
out one of the beers. He had intended to surprise Sally. She'd looked at him in
astonishment when he showed up unannounced at her door, stammering about
wanting to take her on a noontime picnic but he'd come later than expected
because there was a tractor trailer accident on the highway. The screen door
slammed shut before he had a chance to explain it all. He was sure though. He'd
wait. And, he'd convince her. He knew he could.

He hiked himself up onto the fence and cracked open one of the brown bottles,
while he addressed the watcher.

"I'll wait," he said before he swigged down the beer. It was cold,
malty, and refreshing. "I can wait all day. All night. All day tomorrow,
too. Or the next day. Yeah, I can wait." He nodded to himself. "She's
worth it. That's what I came to tell her."

The screen door slammed again and the watcher started, turning toward the
sound. But then, the eyes turned back to Hal and the head nodded, knowingly, it
seemed.

"She is, isn't she," Hal agreed. "Worth it, I mean." As
Sally walked toward him, she took his breath away. She had changed into a nice
shirt and a long, flowered shirt and was carrying a straw hat and a blanket.
And she was smiling. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. I thought
this would be nicer than those nasty old jeans I'd been mucking out the barn
in." Her voice was like honey. She twirled around and his heart skipped a
beat as the fabric swung like a slow tornado around her legs.

The ring box in his pocket felt like the heaviest thing in the world, holding
the promise of the future, a future with Sally. Surprisingly, he started to
feel more relaxed. Despite the eyes still glued to him.

"You know, you can stare at me all day, and it won't work." He turned
back to the watcher. "I'm not a pushover, despite what you may have
heard." The thought made him chuckle. "I'm not sharing my beer with a
kid."

That's when the young thing scampered over toward Sally, though a fence barred
the way. But Sally only had eyes for Hal.

He twisted open a second beer and handed it to her as he took the blanket.
"I brought some sandwiches and more beer," he said, gesturing to the
pack.

"Let's eat down by the pond," she responded, linking her arm in his.
She smiled back at their follower. "Now, you stay back here, sweetie. You
can't come along on this walk. Next time, maybe."

Hal smiled and raised his beer in a salute. "Here's looking at you,
kid."

The goat kid, which Sally had bottle fed after the mother died, watched as Hal
and Sally grew smaller and smaller walking down the road. Soon, there was
nothing to left to watch. Resigned, the kid leaned its head down to pull away a
sweet-smelling tuft of grass.