front of him out there, and now that he knows about your indiscretion, he requires that you rebuild the barn, for now.”
“Mama, I swear I didn’t do what she said—”
“I know what’s been going on. Not only does a mother have eyes in the back of her head, she also can sense when her son is up to no good or not. I believe you. All I know to do is just what Mr. Rollins has asked of you, and see if things die down after a few days. I’ll speak to Mrs. Rollins. Maybe she’ll arrange a meeting with Annabeth.” She wrenched her hands and turned to look out the window at the barn.
“There’s more.”
“Eventually, Mr. Rollins wants you to marry Grace, Colby. He said it is only fitting after what she’s told him about the nature of your relationship with her.”
Those words were a whole barn of burning embers dropped on my head.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
* * * *
I washed up, ate breakfast, and started straight away on the barn. Rebuilding it from the foundation up was no problem, but I’d rather burn inside it ten times than ever touch Grace Rollins again.
Wheel barrows full of still smoldering coals and ashes grew heavier after about the twentieth load. I dumped them over the pond’s edge. I tore at the old charred skeleton of the barn until I was down to only lumber that could be reused. I’d make the rebuilding of the barn be as little a burden on Mr. Rollin’s pocketbook as possible.
With a coal-black hand, dirty from the ashes, I wiped my face.
In the third floor window of the mansion, Annabeth stared down at me.
If she’d just speak to me.
Annabeth stepped back into the dark recesses of the house.
Threading my fingers back through my hair, I loosened the soot from my brow and wiped my face with a rag. I leaned back against the only wall that still stood and stared at the black window.
I silently vowed, God, I promise, if you’ll just give her back to me, I will try my best to prove that I’m worthy of being her husband and a good a faithful servant as long as I live —I was interrupted.
“I brought you some cold lemonade.” For a moment, the sweet voice was so similar to Annabeth’s my heart skipped a beat.
My eyes flashed open.
Grace.
“You started the fire.” I turned from her and picked up more of the charred embers and smoke-blackened wood. The plush grass around the barn was tarnished with water soaked ash.
Grace followed me with the drink tray.
“Colby, please look at me.” Grace sounded so innocent a good spirit could have invaded her body, if only for a moment.
My eyes landed on a pitcher of lemonade with lemons floating in it. There was a glass right beside it. My mouth would have watered had it not been so dry.
“Now, tell me that when you look on me that you don’t want me. I don’t think you can….” She lowered the tray to reveal a dress so daringly low that her breasts almost fell out the top.
“I can promise you that you have nothing I want.” I turned away from her and stalked toward my own dwelling. I would drink from a cholera infested well before I’d take her lemonade.
Grace’s skirts rustled as she followed me. “I’m not giving up.”
I walked faster. I washed up at the well pump.
Grace sat the tray down on a bale of hay that had been relocated to the outbuilding beside our cottage. “I didn’t start that fire, at least not on purpose.”
Annabeth was back at her window where her indignant stare landed on me. At least she cared enough to spy. She would get to witness me silently run all over the yard trying to get away from Grace’s advances. That would prove that I didn’t love Grace or have any plans for a future with her.
After drawing up the water pail, I took the little ladle from the hook on the side of the well cover and drank. I hoped Grace would get the idea that I would always be able to find what I needed elsewhere, where she was concerned.
Grace’s voice came at me as if she were in the bottom of the well.
“Mama, I swear I didn’t do what she said—”
“I know what’s been going on. Not only does a mother have eyes in the back of her head, she also can sense when her son is up to no good or not. I believe you. All I know to do is just what Mr. Rollins has asked of you, and see if things die down after a few days. I’ll speak to Mrs. Rollins. Maybe she’ll arrange a meeting with Annabeth.” She wrenched her hands and turned to look out the window at the barn.
“There’s more.”
“Eventually, Mr. Rollins wants you to marry Grace, Colby. He said it is only fitting after what she’s told him about the nature of your relationship with her.”
Those words were a whole barn of burning embers dropped on my head.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
* * * *
I washed up, ate breakfast, and started straight away on the barn. Rebuilding it from the foundation up was no problem, but I’d rather burn inside it ten times than ever touch Grace Rollins again.
Wheel barrows full of still smoldering coals and ashes grew heavier after about the twentieth load. I dumped them over the pond’s edge. I tore at the old charred skeleton of the barn until I was down to only lumber that could be reused. I’d make the rebuilding of the barn be as little a burden on Mr. Rollin’s pocketbook as possible.
With a coal-black hand, dirty from the ashes, I wiped my face.
In the third floor window of the mansion, Annabeth stared down at me.
If she’d just speak to me.
Annabeth stepped back into the dark recesses of the house.
Threading my fingers back through my hair, I loosened the soot from my brow and wiped my face with a rag. I leaned back against the only wall that still stood and stared at the black window.
I silently vowed, God, I promise, if you’ll just give her back to me, I will try my best to prove that I’m worthy of being her husband and a good a faithful servant as long as I live —I was interrupted.
“I brought you some cold lemonade.” For a moment, the sweet voice was so similar to Annabeth’s my heart skipped a beat.
My eyes flashed open.
Grace.
“You started the fire.” I turned from her and picked up more of the charred embers and smoke-blackened wood. The plush grass around the barn was tarnished with water soaked ash.
Grace followed me with the drink tray.
“Colby, please look at me.” Grace sounded so innocent a good spirit could have invaded her body, if only for a moment.
My eyes landed on a pitcher of lemonade with lemons floating in it. There was a glass right beside it. My mouth would have watered had it not been so dry.
“Now, tell me that when you look on me that you don’t want me. I don’t think you can….” She lowered the tray to reveal a dress so daringly low that her breasts almost fell out the top.
“I can promise you that you have nothing I want.” I turned away from her and stalked toward my own dwelling. I would drink from a cholera infested well before I’d take her lemonade.
Grace’s skirts rustled as she followed me. “I’m not giving up.”
I walked faster. I washed up at the well pump.
Grace sat the tray down on a bale of hay that had been relocated to the outbuilding beside our cottage. “I didn’t start that fire, at least not on purpose.”
Annabeth was back at her window where her indignant stare landed on me. At least she cared enough to spy. She would get to witness me silently run all over the yard trying to get away from Grace’s advances. That would prove that I didn’t love Grace or have any plans for a future with her.
After drawing up the water pail, I took the little ladle from the hook on the side of the well cover and drank. I hoped Grace would get the idea that I would always be able to find what I needed elsewhere, where she was concerned.
Grace’s voice came at me as if she were in the bottom of the well.
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