Chapter One #2
“For the fair,” Edith said, beaming at her. “I’ve been working on it for weeks. That green is really going to bring out those green eyes of yours, honey. I think you’ll be the most beautiful girl there today.”
Rachel shook her head. “Nathan said I couldn’t go.
” She was breathless. “When did you do this? It must have cost you a fortune to get the fabric.” She walked over to the bed, sank down next to the dress, and ran a hand over the soft linen.
It was nicer than anything she owned, although it didn’t hold a candle to some of the fine things in her stepsister’s closet.
Even so, Rachel wouldn’t have traded this beautiful dress, handmade for her with love, for the richest fabrics Jennifer possessed.
“It’s all right,” Edith told her, her voice full of warmth and joy. “I’ve been saving up for over a year to do this. I always knew a day would come when you would need something special to wear, and I wanted to be sure we were ready when that day came.”
“But Nathan won’t allow me to go,” Rachel said, looking up at her.
Edith sat down on the bed next to her. “I was listening when you spoke to him. He said that you could go if you had something appropriate to wear. He won’t be able to deny that this dress fits the bill.”
“But my chores…”
“Never mind them. I’ll see to your chores for you,” Edith said briskly. “I promise you, Rachel, everything will be done. Go to the fair. Have a good time, for once in your life. You deserve it.”
***
Two hours later, Rachel stood on the corner of Main Street, her eyes fixed on the festivities.
She’d insisted on pitching in with the chores.
It was unfair to leave Edith to do everything.
But finally, after the family had left, Edith had helped her dress and had shooed her warmly out the door.
Rachel had fairly flown into town, her heart racing with the thrill of what she was about to experience.
Laughter and the sound of a fiddle came from the dance floor. People spun around and around together in one another’s arms. There were booths lining the street, just as she’d imagined—people selling handicrafts, produce, and baked goods. She inhaled and took in the sweet scent of an apple pie.
She put her hand in her pocket and rubbed a thumb over the three coins Edith had given her for the occasion. She would have to find something to bring home for her friend to thank her for this, something the two of them could share. A piece of pie might be just the thing.
But first, she wanted to see everything.
She made her way slowly down the street. A few times, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed people turning to look at her in clear surprise. Was it that shocking to see her out of the house?
“That dress is magnificent,” said a woman she didn’t know, with curly red hair and a bright smile. “Where on earth did you get it?”
“Oh.” Rachel blushed and ran her hands over the skirts. “It was made for me.”
“Well, whoever made it ought to open a shop,” the woman said, shaking her head in admiration. “I would put in an order right here and now!”
Rachel couldn’t help smiling. “I’ll tell her you said so,” she said. “And thank you.”
How pleased Edith would be to hear that her work was so admired! In addition to bringing home a gift, she thought, it was important to collect as many stories as possible today. She wanted to have as much to give Edith as she could.
She moved toward the dance floor, a seed of hope sprouting in her mind. Today had already been so magical. Was it at all possible that she might find someone who wanted to dance with her? That would make the best story of all, one that she knew she would remember for the rest of her life.
Her gaze paused on a tall, tanned man with broad shoulders and dark, unkempt hair. He was looking back at her, his blue eyes captivating, and for a moment her breath caught—but then his gaze moved on.
She lingered by the edge of the dance, trying not to look too eager, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. If she wasn’t asked, it would be understandable, but she would be a little embarrassed.
“What are you doing here?” a voice rang out.
Fear spiked through Rachel. She knew that voice, and while she hated that she had such a dramatic response to it, she couldn’t help it. Angering Jennifer had never had good results.
She turned to face her stepsister, who had stormed over, and took a breath to try to steady herself. “Your father said that I could come if I found something to wear,” she said, and gestured to her dress. “Do you like it?”
“No, I don’t like it. Where did you get that hideous thing? It looks like you stole it from the circus,” Jennifer sneered. “You’re an embarrassment! For goodness’ sake...no one wants to see you here, all trussed up like a clown. Just go home, Rachel. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
As she turned to stalk off, a woman came walking by with a tray covered with glasses of lemonade.
Rachel saw it all play out as if in slow motion.
She saw Jennifer’s eyes lock on the tray, then dart back to her.
She saw Jennifer’s lips curve up ever so slightly in a malicious and calculating smile.
Jennifer took one small step to the side and collided with the tray.
The glasses flew up in the air and lemonade spilled everywhere—but the bulk of it landed exactly where Jennifer must have known it would: all over Rachel’s beautiful new dress.
Jennifer turned slowly to face her and folded her arms across her chest, grinning broadly and shaking her head.
Rachel stood where she was, dripping wet, shivering, already feeling the stickiness of the lemonade against her skin. Everyone had stopped talking. Everyone was staring at her, including the handsome blue-eyed stranger she had noticed before.
Don’t cry. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.
“Well, that’s a shame,” Jennifer murmured. “I think you’d better get home and change, Rachel.”
Rachel wanted to argue, to tell Jennifer how horrible she was. The words burned within her. But she couldn’t force herself to do it. She couldn’t say everything that was on her mind and then go home and go on living with Jennifer.
She turned and hurried away.
And as she ran home, all she could think was, I can’t take one more day of this. I don’t care that I have nowhere to go. I don’t care that I don’t have a plan. I have to get away from these people once and for all.