Chapter Ten
There was no lunch on the table when Adam came in from his morning chores.
He scowled as he scrubbed his hands. He hadn’t expected much—it was only lunchtime—but surely it wasn’t too much to want some sandwiches or something on the table.
He ate at the same time every day, so it wasn’t as though he could have caught Rachel by surprise—she would have known to expect him. But she was nowhere to be seen.
It didn’t look as if she had been here in hours, in fact.
The breakfast dishes had been washed, but they still sat on a towel beside the sink waiting to be put away.
There was an air of stillness about the place that made him think she hadn’t been here—but why wouldn’t she have been?
Her household chores shouldn’t take her too far from the kitchen, and at the sound of him entering the house she ought to have appeared.
Come to think of it…was she in the house at all?
He frowned, observing the quiet. There were no sounds coming from other rooms either—no footsteps, no creaking floorboards.
Emptiness. This, he realized suddenly, was the way the house had been most afternoons before Rachel had come to work here.
It jarred him to experience it again. It felt as though something deeply wrong had happened.
Where did she go? His heart pounded. Could something have happened to her? He spun in a circle, as if either Rachel or a clue to her whereabouts might suddenly appear—but nothing did, of course.
What if she left? What if she decided to make good on the things she was saying the very first day I brought her here? If she had run away, he wouldn’t begin to know where to look for her—he would never be able to find her—
The door opened and Rachel walked in.
Adam caught the back of a chair to steady himself. His heart was beating so fast that it was hard to breathe, but his fear quickly morphed into anger. “Where were you?” he demanded.
She stared at him. She looked none the worse for wear—a little windswept, as if she had been riding, but otherwise fine. As he watched, she reached up and let her braid down, quickly combing her fingers through her hair and re-braiding it tightly.
“I went to Mason’s school,” she said, eyebrows rising.
“You—what?” His mind raced to catch up to what she was telling him. “Why did you have to go there? Did something happen? Is Mason all right?” He started toward the door.
“Adam,” she said calmly, holding up her hands. “Stop a moment. Everything is all right. Mason is fine. I didn’t go there to see him. I went to speak to my stepsister.”
He frowned, taking a seat. “Why?”
“How about I make you your lunch?” she suggested.
“Don’t change the subject,” he insisted.
“I’m not.” She moved to the breadbox. “I think this will be a little better if you’re not hungry while you hear it, that’s all. I think you’ve worked hard all morning and you could do with some lunch. Am I wrong?”
She wasn’t, of course. He grumbled his consent and sat back in his chair to allow her to finish up preparing the lunch.
He listened to the sound of the knife rhythmically striking wood as she cut up a tomato. “I know Mason has had trouble getting along at school,” she said. “When you mentioned to me that they were talking about expulsion, I couldn’t help feeling as though I had to do something.”
He was tense. Every word felt as though it might shatter in his mouth when he spoke. “That wasn’t your responsibility.”
“But why not? Didn’t you bring me here to help care for him?
” she asked earnestly. She came to the table with a roast beef sandwich and a glass of water and set them before him, then moved to take the seat opposite him.
Adam bit into the sandwich. It was cold and savory, just how he liked it, and for a moment it took the edge off of his irritation with her.
She watched him carefully from across the table. “You know, it isn’t just that I care for Mason—although I do,” she ventured. “It’s that Jennifer is family to me.”
“You two don’t exactly get along, do you?”
She barked out a laugh. “Not a bit. But I do know her. I know how to speak to her, and I know how to get her to listen. And it worked. She told me that Mason is being bullied by the other children. That’s why he’s having so much trouble.
That’s why he’s acting out. He’s being tormented.
” Her voice broke slightly. “I feel terrible for him. I know what that’s like—having people treat you badly when you’ve done nothing to deserve it, just because of the circumstances you find yourself in. ”
Adam drew a deep breath and set his sandwich down.
“I didn’t realize that.” The thought of children being cruel to Mason lit a fire of rage within him, and his fingers curled as though wanting to make fists.
He forced his hands to relax. “What are we going to do about it? I mean, if the teacher knows it’s happening and hasn’t done anything to put a stop to it… ”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to speak to Jennifer about it,” Rachel said. She tucked her hands into the folds of her skirts and looked down into her lap. “I thought I might be the one best able to communicate with her, simply because I know her, and nobody else really does in the way I do.”
Adam shook his head. “You really went into town to speak to her about it,” he said admiringly. “Even though she’s been…really, nothing but awful to you.”
“Well…that isn’t true…” There was nothing convincing about her voice. She sounded like she was trying to persuade herself, more than anything else, and Adam couldn’t help feeling for her.
“I saw what she did to you at the fair,” he said quietly. “The lemonade.”
Her head jerked up. “You did?”
“She did that on purpose. She meant to spill that lemonade on you.” He leaned forward, his voice low. “She tried to make it look like an accident, but I wasn’t fooled.”
Rachel rose to her feet and went to the sink. She picked up one of the plates from breakfast and began to wash it, though Adam knew it to already be clean. “It wasn’t that serious,” she said, her back to him so that he couldn’t see the expression on her face. “That’s just…Jennifer.”
“She was cruel to you,” Adam said. “And I don’t think that was the first time, because when I got back to your house, you had packed a suitcase.
You weren’t running away because of that one incident.
” He was quiet for a moment. “I’ve seen enough people run away to know that no one does it because of a little spilled lemonade.
Your living situation was unbearable.” His gut twisted at the thought of it.
She put the plate down and braced her hands on the counter. “It really wasn’t Jennifer’s fault.”
“But she was a part of it,” he insisted. “And you—you went into town to talk to her anyway. To ask her for a favor. To see if she would help Mason.” He shook his head, wondering at her strength. “That must have been very difficult for you.”
She drew an audible breath. “It wasn’t easy,” she confessed.
“I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You did that for Mason’s sake.” He hung his head.
She turned to face him, probably noticing the remorse in his voice. “I should have told you where I was going to be,” she said. “I could have done that much.” She went back to the table. “Finish that sandwich.”
He picked it up and took another bite. “It’s good.”
“I’m glad.” There was warmth in the words.
“And you don’t have to tell me everywhere you’re going.” He glanced up at her, passing the sandwich back and forth between his hands. “I brought you here to take care of Mason, and that’s what you were doing. You’re not accountable to me for your time.”
“You were expecting your lunch.”
“Taking care of Mason is more important than feeding me.” He caught her gaze and held it.
“All right? If you have to choose, ever, in the future, you do what you did today. You choose him. I’ve fended for myself for years now, and I can do so again.
I wasn’t upset because I didn’t have food.
I was upset because…” He pursed his lips.
“Why?” She sat down at the table. “I don’t want to upset you. If I did something you should tell me so that I can do better in the future.”
“But it really wasn’t anything you did,” he said.
“I didn’t know where you were, as I mentioned, and I thought…
” He looked down at the sandwich in his hands.
“I thought you might have left. That’s all.
You were reluctant to come here at first, and I just thought maybe you had decided to leave without saying anything and that I wouldn’t see you again. ”
He couldn’t believe he had said that out loud. That he had let her know he would care if she left like that. His heart pounded. His face flushed.
She didn’t respond for several moments, during which Adam took a bite of his sandwich and chewed emphatically, hoping to give the impression that he was feeling nothing in particular other than hunger. That he wouldn’t have been hurt if she had left without a word.
When she spoke, her voice was very soft. “If ever I decide to go,” she said, “I will tell you first. I will say goodbye. To you and to Mason.”
He nodded. It was as much as he could reasonably ask her for. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I think that…would be best. For Mason’s sake.”
“Of course.”
He got to his feet, the last bite of his sandwich in his hand, and picked up his plate. “I should get back to work,” he said. “But I’ll take care of this. You’ve done plenty today already.” He moved toward the sink.
She intercepted him, reaching out to take the plate. “Nonsense,” she argued. “You’ve got plenty to do, and this is one of my responsibilities. Let me handle it.”
As she reached for the plate, her fingers brushed his.
She sucked in a breath—it was audible. Adam froze too, every muscle in his arm tensing in response to her touch.
Her fingers were feather-light and warm, and he suddenly found himself wondering how long it had been since anyone had touched him on purpose.
Mason never did. When there was any contact between the two of them, it was because Adam was reaching out to grab him and redirect him.
He pulled back quickly, letting her take the plate from him. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and spun around. He was out the door and into the yard before she had a chance to react to him any further.
The day was overcast. The air nipped with the chill of an afternoon wind.
Adam was glad for the slight discomfort—it took his mind off of what had just happened.
He jogged across the grass, which waved in the wind, moving toward the stable and the familiarity of his daily chores.
Being immersed in the activities he did every day would be exactly what he needed right now.
Ruth was already inside, grooming Water Lily, the horse she rode most often. Water Lily had a pale coat and was one of the shortest horses Adam owned, but that was deceptive—she was swift as the wind when she wanted to be.
Ruth didn’t look up from her brushing when Adam came in. “Have a nice lunch?”
“Did you know that Rachel was going to the school to talk about Mason?” he asked without preamble, letting Chestnut out of his stall. He couldn’t help noticing that Chestnut’s coat was the same soft brown as Rachel’s hair. That wasn’t going to help with his desire to get her off his mind.
Ruth looked up, leaning against Water Lily’s shoulder. “I didn’t,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Do you think she overstepped?”
“Honestly…I think it was a really kind thing to do,” Adam admitted, starting to work on Chestnut’s mane. “I think it was probably tough for her, and it was incredibly brave. And…I’m surprised by it.”
“She cares about that boy,” Ruth said slowly. “I did know that much. I didn’t know she was going to go to the school, but…it doesn’t shock me. She wants to help. I can tell that about her already.”
Adam nodded. “I think that’s true,” he agreed. “I suppose I just didn’t think she wanted it so badly that she would act of her own accord like that. Without even talking to me about it first. And to think that she would be willing to face her stepsister…”
Chestnut must have heard the distance in Adam’s voice.
He nudged Adam’s shoulder with his nose.
Adam smiled and gave the horse’s neck a scratch.
“All right, Chestnut,” he murmured. “I know you and I have a lot of work to get done today. Let’s get that saddle on you.
” He went to the wall and took it down. “How are the cows?”
“The cows are fine,” Ruth said sternly. “And I know you’re trying to change the subject, Adam.
She means something to you. More than you thought she would when you brought her here.
This is what always happens with you.” Her voice turned gentle.
“You find someone you want to help, and you bring them into your life thinking it’s not going to matter all that much. And it always does.”
Of course she had noticed that. He couldn’t reasonably be surprised, since it was what had happened with her. He’d only meant to give her a job, not make her a part of his family. And then the same thing had happened with Mason. And now…
Adam turned away. He didn’t know quite how to respond. Because the truth was that she was right.
He already cared about Rachel. He already didn’t want her to leave.
Like it or not, she had become a part of his world—and yet, he had no way of ensuring that she would stay here for any prolonged amount of time.
And that terrified him.