furnaces.
“They must have just left.” Meg closed the door then paused, frowning at it. “But I can’t believe they left without locking it.”
“Maybe they’ll be right back.” Sarah tugged on Meg’s arm. “We shouldn’t be inside without anyone here.”
“No, but it’s awfully messy. They usually clean up at the end of the day.” Though not liking the glassworks left open and unkempt, Meg allowed Sarah to lead her around the building to the shed where packing crates rose in stacks higher than their heads.
“I think these will work.” Sarah used her hands to measure one crate. “They’re high enough for children.”
“And they’re sturdy, since they have to hold glass. Oh, here’s someone.” Meg glanced over her shoulder, hoping, then suppressing a sigh of disappointment.
Thaddeus Dalbow, not Colin, strode into the yard. “Miss Meg, Miss Sarah, may I be of assistance?”
“I want to look at packing crates.” Meg glanced toward the factory building. “Are you the one working late today?” She tried to sound casual. “I thought it was only Mr. Grassick who worked extra hours.”
Sarah’s breath hissed through her teeth, and Meg realized she’d given herself away just saying his name.
“It is.” Thad shoved a lock of unruly hair away from his face. “But there was an accident.”
nine
Colin knew he should be at church and not working, however charitable the work. He heard his mother’s admonitions about the need for worship and teaching ringing with nearly every breath he took. But at church he saw Meg, and seeing Meg had begun to hurt as much as did his left hand.
“You understand, do You not, Lord?” As he often did, he prayed while he worked alone.
Today’s project took him to Meg’s school, a building that appeared to have been an old cottage no one used any longer. Instead of Mr. Jordan having to hire a carpenter to fit the new glass panes into the wooden frames, Colin had offered to do the work. With the glass finished, he decided to risk someone disapproving of him working on a Sunday and set the windows back into the school for Meg’s next visit.
“When else would I be having the daylight?” Colin thought something must be wrong if he was trying to justify his actions to the Lord. If he needed to justify them, they couldn’t be right.
That knowledge didn’t stop him from lifting the first pane of glass from its nest of straw and sliding it into the frame. Around him a few birds chirped and the air smelled clean. He caught a hint of water with the wind blowing from the direction of the nearby bay, and his heart ached with the wish to see his family. He had abandoned them fifteen years ago with scarcely a backward glance, yet now that his father’s death had brought them together again, he didn’t want to be apart from them.
“So you should stop thinking of the master’s daughter, my lad.”
Think of Meg he did—too often. He’d ruined a perfectly good candlestick when she walked into the glassworks on Wednesday morning, as bright and effervescent as the morning itself. The excuse to go near her came as a gift, a blessing, and he exerted every bit of willpower he possessed not to run through the factory to her side.
And Joseph Pyle, that man to whom she would be wed too soon, stood near her, too, glaring at Colin as though he intended to shrivel him like last year’s apples.
“She can never be yours, lad,” Colin cautioned himself over the first pane of glass.
He had no business even considering more than a polite exchange of words with her for however long he remained in Salem County. She was his master’s daughter, and he had a family who needed him more than Meg Jordan needed anything.
“Keep your mind on your work and the Lord,” he admonished himself.
As though to prove he wasn’t doing enough of the latter, church bells began to ring across the countryside, pure and melodic. Soon worshippers would travel along the road, returning to their
“They must have just left.” Meg closed the door then paused, frowning at it. “But I can’t believe they left without locking it.”
“Maybe they’ll be right back.” Sarah tugged on Meg’s arm. “We shouldn’t be inside without anyone here.”
“No, but it’s awfully messy. They usually clean up at the end of the day.” Though not liking the glassworks left open and unkempt, Meg allowed Sarah to lead her around the building to the shed where packing crates rose in stacks higher than their heads.
“I think these will work.” Sarah used her hands to measure one crate. “They’re high enough for children.”
“And they’re sturdy, since they have to hold glass. Oh, here’s someone.” Meg glanced over her shoulder, hoping, then suppressing a sigh of disappointment.
Thaddeus Dalbow, not Colin, strode into the yard. “Miss Meg, Miss Sarah, may I be of assistance?”
“I want to look at packing crates.” Meg glanced toward the factory building. “Are you the one working late today?” She tried to sound casual. “I thought it was only Mr. Grassick who worked extra hours.”
Sarah’s breath hissed through her teeth, and Meg realized she’d given herself away just saying his name.
“It is.” Thad shoved a lock of unruly hair away from his face. “But there was an accident.”
nine
Colin knew he should be at church and not working, however charitable the work. He heard his mother’s admonitions about the need for worship and teaching ringing with nearly every breath he took. But at church he saw Meg, and seeing Meg had begun to hurt as much as did his left hand.
“You understand, do You not, Lord?” As he often did, he prayed while he worked alone.
Today’s project took him to Meg’s school, a building that appeared to have been an old cottage no one used any longer. Instead of Mr. Jordan having to hire a carpenter to fit the new glass panes into the wooden frames, Colin had offered to do the work. With the glass finished, he decided to risk someone disapproving of him working on a Sunday and set the windows back into the school for Meg’s next visit.
“When else would I be having the daylight?” Colin thought something must be wrong if he was trying to justify his actions to the Lord. If he needed to justify them, they couldn’t be right.
That knowledge didn’t stop him from lifting the first pane of glass from its nest of straw and sliding it into the frame. Around him a few birds chirped and the air smelled clean. He caught a hint of water with the wind blowing from the direction of the nearby bay, and his heart ached with the wish to see his family. He had abandoned them fifteen years ago with scarcely a backward glance, yet now that his father’s death had brought them together again, he didn’t want to be apart from them.
“So you should stop thinking of the master’s daughter, my lad.”
Think of Meg he did—too often. He’d ruined a perfectly good candlestick when she walked into the glassworks on Wednesday morning, as bright and effervescent as the morning itself. The excuse to go near her came as a gift, a blessing, and he exerted every bit of willpower he possessed not to run through the factory to her side.
And Joseph Pyle, that man to whom she would be wed too soon, stood near her, too, glaring at Colin as though he intended to shrivel him like last year’s apples.
“She can never be yours, lad,” Colin cautioned himself over the first pane of glass.
He had no business even considering more than a polite exchange of words with her for however long he remained in Salem County. She was his master’s daughter, and he had a family who needed him more than Meg Jordan needed anything.
“Keep your mind on your work and the Lord,” he admonished himself.
As though to prove he wasn’t doing enough of the latter, church bells began to ring across the countryside, pure and melodic. Soon worshippers would travel along the road, returning to their
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