rebuff
.
From the picker he beckoned to her. He wasn’t smiling. His brows were knit together, and she desperately wished she had refused to come. Lute sprang lightly up onto the spring seat, then reached a hand down for her. She stretched to put her foot on the high step and he hauled her up to sit on his lap, her back snug against his chest.
His gloved hands worked the controls of the machine and it began to move. The engine didn’t sound so loud up here, or maybe she had become used to it. Lute steered between the rows of tall dried cornstalks. Nelda watched as the machine seemed to swallow them. She saw Lute glance from time to time in the mirror to check the ears of corn spewing out of the funnel and into the wagon behind.
She turned so that she could speak close to his ear.
“How do you take the corn off the cob?”
“I have a corn sheller up at the house. It takes off the corn and discards the cob,” he explained almost grudgingly, she thought.
At the end of the field, a man was waiting with an empty wagon. While they waited for the full wagon to be taken away and the empty one connected, Lute was silent. The arms around her held her loosely. The hard thighs she was sitting on could just as well have been a bench.
Why is he acting like this?
Nelda fretted silently.
He’s sorry he asked me to come. Lute, please don’t shut me out. I can share your life. I know I can
.
“I’ve started making my block prints,” she volunteered. She had to make him talk to her. In a few short minutes they would be back at the fence where they’d left Kelly. She probably wouldn’t see him again for weeks. “I had my screens burned in Mason City,” she continued, her lips close to his ear. “I think you’d like them. They’re earthy—corn, milkweed pods, wild tiger lilies, and even thistle.”
“Thistle? Strange you find something pretty about thistle. We have to spray constantly to keep it out of the fields.”
His words were cynical, and they hurt. Uneasy silence hung between them. Uncertain how to deal with his mood, she tried to keep a tremor out of her voice as she acknowledged, “I didn’t know that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” This time there was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice.
Nelda drew in a deep breath, deciding to say no more. They reached the end of the field; Lute swung the machine in a wide arc, stopping beside the fence.
Kelly barked and wiggled and tried to get through the small wire squares to reach them.
Lute held on to her hand and lowered her to the ground, then jumped down.
“It’s not as exciting as a taxi ride, but it’s all we’ve got to offer.”
“It was wonderful. I loved it. Don’t you get awfully cold out here all day?” Nelda was determined not to react to Lute’s sarcasm.
“This isn’t cold. I’ve picked when it was twenty below.”
“Thank you.” She started to move away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.
“You forgot to pay the driver. Nothing in this life is free, not even here in the middle of a cornfield.”
He crushed her to him so hard the air exploded from her lungs. His mouth found hers. His lips were cold, but warmed against hers. His hands gripped her arms ruthlessly, almost as though he wanted to hurt her, but then gradually they gentled. His lips softened, and he kissed her again.
Nelda forced herself to stand quietly in his embrace, straining to conceal the wild, tremulous sensations that swamped her. Presently he loosened his arms and held her away from him to look down into her face. His expression was grim and hard.
“You seeing Hutchinson now?”
“When I need to know something about the farm.” She forced herself to answer calmly.
“Business is usually taken care of in his office. He’s a good catch, you know. The day after he buried
his wife, half the single women in town were taking him food and offering to clean his house.”
“That was nice of them,” she said quietly.
“He’s more your
.
From the picker he beckoned to her. He wasn’t smiling. His brows were knit together, and she desperately wished she had refused to come. Lute sprang lightly up onto the spring seat, then reached a hand down for her. She stretched to put her foot on the high step and he hauled her up to sit on his lap, her back snug against his chest.
His gloved hands worked the controls of the machine and it began to move. The engine didn’t sound so loud up here, or maybe she had become used to it. Lute steered between the rows of tall dried cornstalks. Nelda watched as the machine seemed to swallow them. She saw Lute glance from time to time in the mirror to check the ears of corn spewing out of the funnel and into the wagon behind.
She turned so that she could speak close to his ear.
“How do you take the corn off the cob?”
“I have a corn sheller up at the house. It takes off the corn and discards the cob,” he explained almost grudgingly, she thought.
At the end of the field, a man was waiting with an empty wagon. While they waited for the full wagon to be taken away and the empty one connected, Lute was silent. The arms around her held her loosely. The hard thighs she was sitting on could just as well have been a bench.
Why is he acting like this?
Nelda fretted silently.
He’s sorry he asked me to come. Lute, please don’t shut me out. I can share your life. I know I can
.
“I’ve started making my block prints,” she volunteered. She had to make him talk to her. In a few short minutes they would be back at the fence where they’d left Kelly. She probably wouldn’t see him again for weeks. “I had my screens burned in Mason City,” she continued, her lips close to his ear. “I think you’d like them. They’re earthy—corn, milkweed pods, wild tiger lilies, and even thistle.”
“Thistle? Strange you find something pretty about thistle. We have to spray constantly to keep it out of the fields.”
His words were cynical, and they hurt. Uneasy silence hung between them. Uncertain how to deal with his mood, she tried to keep a tremor out of her voice as she acknowledged, “I didn’t know that.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” This time there was no mistaking the sarcasm in his voice.
Nelda drew in a deep breath, deciding to say no more. They reached the end of the field; Lute swung the machine in a wide arc, stopping beside the fence.
Kelly barked and wiggled and tried to get through the small wire squares to reach them.
Lute held on to her hand and lowered her to the ground, then jumped down.
“It’s not as exciting as a taxi ride, but it’s all we’ve got to offer.”
“It was wonderful. I loved it. Don’t you get awfully cold out here all day?” Nelda was determined not to react to Lute’s sarcasm.
“This isn’t cold. I’ve picked when it was twenty below.”
“Thank you.” She started to move away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.
“You forgot to pay the driver. Nothing in this life is free, not even here in the middle of a cornfield.”
He crushed her to him so hard the air exploded from her lungs. His mouth found hers. His lips were cold, but warmed against hers. His hands gripped her arms ruthlessly, almost as though he wanted to hurt her, but then gradually they gentled. His lips softened, and he kissed her again.
Nelda forced herself to stand quietly in his embrace, straining to conceal the wild, tremulous sensations that swamped her. Presently he loosened his arms and held her away from him to look down into her face. His expression was grim and hard.
“You seeing Hutchinson now?”
“When I need to know something about the farm.” She forced herself to answer calmly.
“Business is usually taken care of in his office. He’s a good catch, you know. The day after he buried
his wife, half the single women in town were taking him food and offering to clean his house.”
“That was nice of them,” she said quietly.
“He’s more your
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