20. Change & the Crunch of Leaves
Change & the Crunch of Leaves
Istopped by Margaret’s house after helping to sweep the sanctuary floors after church.
It was a chore I volunteered for often–something my parents had encouraged me to help with as a child.
But today, I was fully aware that I was using the chore to put off the inevitable.
Margaret was angry with me. That alone would terrify anyone who knew her.
Even Casey was afraid of Margaret when she was angry, as their little showdown had proven last week.
Even worse was knowing that I had inadvertently caused Asher pain.
I’d known he liked me. There was no way to explain his behavior without coming to that conclusion.
But I hadn’t known just how much he liked me.
And while I hadn’t sent the awful messages, he thought I had.
And what Casey must have texted might make sense to anyone who wasn’t privy to my recent inner monologue.
Everyone else just saw the girl obsessed with horses who couldn’t let go of her past. Only Margaret and I knew of my decision to leave the ranch.
But, I reminded myself as I walked to Margaret’s house, I hadn’t sent those horrible messages. And they could be easily cleared up once I’d had a chance to explain my side of the story.
Can they, though? a mean little voice in my head wondered. Doesn’t this trick of your stepmother’s prove that you’re still her victim? You’re still close enough for her to make you suffer?
That question bothered me more than I cared for. So I squared my shoulders instead and focused on knocking on the door of Margaret’s little cottage behind the bookshop.
Margaret answered. Unlike the last time I’d seen her face, her expression wasn’t friendly, nor did she look pleased to see me.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly. “I came to explain.”
“I was just talking to Belle,” she said in a grim voice. “Come in.”
I walked in and sat on one of her overly plush sofas. The living room, like the bedroom, was filled with books. Books on shelves, in piles, and on the piano. Also tea. There were canisters and boxes and little glass jars of tea all over. Nearly as many as the books.
“Did Belle tell you what happened?” I asked anxiously as Margaret closed the door.
“She did.” Margaret went to sit in the recliner opposite me.
But contrary to what I had hoped, she didn’t look any happier.
“Ella, I can’t tell you everything about Asher’s childhood.
That would be an invasion of privacy. But I can tell you that I haven’t heard my godson that upset since his mother died. ”
I closed my eyes, and my stomach threatened to revolt. “I didn’t send the messages, Margaret.”
What wasn’t she understanding about this?
“And even more,” I said, opening my eyes, “when I wanted to call him, his contact was gone from my phone. All the texts and calls…” My voice broke as I thought of all the messages I liked to read every night.
They were like my own little romance novel meant just for me.
“She deleted them. Every single one!” Tears began running down my cheeks, and my nose was suddenly running, and I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.
Margaret studied me with those hard eyes for another long moment before she let out a gusty breath, and I saw her face finally soften.
“Here,” she said, grabbing a box of tissues off the piano. “Blow your nose and dry your eyes. There’s no use crying about what your stepmother’s done.”
“Actually,” I said rather rebelliously, “I’d like to have a good cry.”
This made Margaret smile, even if it was a very small smile, and she shook her head. “If anything, though, I think this proves beyond all reason that it’s time to go.”
This only made me cry harder. “I’m trying!” I choked. “I spent all week filling out applications, and no one has called me back!” Apparently, working with horses since birth wasn’t a skill that necessarily translated into the on-the-job experience most managers wanted in retail.
“Ella!” Margaret sounded exasperated. “Who said you had to get a job to move out? You can come stay with me! I’ve been asking your stepmother to send you since your father died.”
This caught my attention enough that I stopped crying. “You did?” I rasped.
“Yes! I could tell from the moment I first laid eyes on her that that woman wouldn’t be any sort of mother for you!
And though I warned your father, he didn’t listen.
He was insistent that he was bringing a woman into his house to help raise you.
” She rolled her eyes so far back I wondered if they might get stuck in her head.
“Foolish man. Anyway, I couldn’t understand why your stepmother was so insistent on keeping you.
Until I saw the kind of work she was making you do.
” Margaret’s voice hardened again. “And I’ve been scheming for a way to get you out of that house ever since. ”
Then her eyes softened. “Come,” she said again.
“Stay with me. You can stay as long as you want. It will be good to have another soul in this house again. And then, when you’re ready, you can leave the nest.” She leaned back in her chair and gazed at me, a sudden look of pain on her face.
“The way it should have been to begin with.”
I opened my mouth to refuse her. I couldn’t just live in someone’s house without pulling my weight. At the very least, I could pay some sort of rent.
“Give me until after the ball,” I said, swallowing my tears.
“Let me at least try to find a job and a place for Nevada.” As soon as I said it, I could see she was about to argue, so I hurried to add, “Please. I just… let me leave on my own accord.” I frowned down at my boots.
They were worn and covered in dust from my walk.
“I don’t want to be chased out of my own home. ”
Margaret pursed her lips, but after a moment, she nodded slowly. “I can see that. And while I don’t want you there, I understand.” Then she stood, and I stood with her.
“Could you give me Asher’s number again?” I asked, pulling my phone out. “So I can call him and explain?”
She gave me a sad smile. “Some conversations should be had in person.” She gently pushed my phone down, her eyes glinting once again. “And rumor has it that he’ll be at the ball.”
“He’s coming back?” My heart leaped into my throat for more reasons than I could process. “So… you think I should wait?”
“I think you should figure out what you’re doing. Then, when you see him again, you can give him hope that things are really going to change.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t help the utter disappointment that colored my vision as I made my way out of Margaret’s cottage. I had so desperately wanted to speak with him.
But Margaret was right. I squared my shoulders against the cold and walked with my chin a bit higher.
The leaves crunched loudly under my boots as I walked more resolutely than I ever had before, and I drank in the sharp air greedily, its bite adding to my determination.
This had happened because I had stayed under Casey’s roof for too long.
The next time we spoke, it would be with the promise that nothing like this would ever happen again.