Eight #2
The intelligent thing to do would be to discuss matters with Lucy.
Yet, he didn’t want to encumber her, especially since this time with her grandparents was precious to both her and Theo. He just wanted her to enjoy her visit, not be weighed down with heavy thoughts.
Determined to relax and enjoy the evening, Branch drew in another breath and slowly released it, then let the tenseness in his shoulder float away on the evening breeze.
He loved being out in the country, where it was peaceful and clean and fresh.
It was also several degrees cooler than it had been in Philadelphia.
The bricks, of which so many buildings were constructed in the city, seemed to hold the heat and radiate it off the cobblestone streets.
“Lucy, why don’t you take a stroll with Branch. It’s been a while since he’s been to the farm to visit. You could show him the improvements I’ve made in my flower garden,” Katherine said, attempting to appear far more innocent than Branch knew her to be.
However, since Katherine was pushing him toward Lucy and he had no objection to that, he nodded and stood. “Miss Carlson, might you accompany me for an amble among your grandmother’s posies?” He held a hand out to Lucy.
She looked up at him with a mixture of mirth and mischief in her eyes, her enticing mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile. “I suppose I could tolerate your company well enough to accomplish the task.”
“How generous of you,” Branch said drolly, and bowed deeply, as though he were greeting a queen.
Lucy took his hand and rose gracefully from her seat at the table, then dropped into a curtsy before offering him an expression so outrageously flirtatious and out of character, he nearly laughed aloud.
“I’ll go with you,” Theo said, sliding off his chair, but Katherine caught his hand in hers.
“Theo, my love, I would be so, so grateful if you’d stay and tell us all about that dreadful bug you and your grandfather found today.”
“Really?” Theo asked, looking from his grandmother to Lucy.
When his sister nodded her assent, Theo regained his seat and launched into the tale of finding the big dead bug.
Branch grinned at Katherine and continued holding Lucy’s hand in his, heedless to the impropriety of it. Her palm and fingers felt so delicate and light against his own big paw, yet they also felt so right. Like her hand belonged in his and always had.
“Well, you are quite a surprise, Lucy Carlson,” he said when they had walked far enough from the table that no one would overhear their conversation.
“When Sarah informed me of dinner plans, I will admit I was not particularly excited at the prospect of spending the evening entertained by two children. If your names had been spoken, I would have raced across the pasture much sooner in the day.”
Lucy smiled up at him, and he felt as though something glimmered between them in the golden evening light. Something that felt a lot like love.
“I don’t know that I could have endured the day had I known you were just across the neighbors’ fence,” Lucy said, then looked like she wished she hadn’t shared her thoughts with him. “Grandmama never mentioned a word about having guests this evening until I was making the apple tansey.”
“I’m ever so glad you made it. It was wonderful, Lucy. I am quite partial to them. Sarah once made one with wild berries I found by a stream, and it was something I still think about from time to time.”
“Your sweet tooth will land you in a pile of misfortune one of these days, Branch Barton. Mark my words,” Lucy said with a serious expression that was belied by her jovial tone.
“Oh, I have no doubt about it at all, Lucy. Not in the least. But what a sweet way to go.”
She laughed at his terrible pun and pointed to the path that led to Katherine’s flower garden. Branch had seen it before, but strolling through the flowering bushes and plants with Lucy at his side was a far different experience than having Katherine point out her newest additions.
It seemed odd for a farmer’s wife to use up good ground near the house for flowers, but he had learned that Katherine had started the flower garden the first year she and John had lived on the farm, which was not long after they had wed forty-odd years ago.
Branch pictured Lucy playing hide-and-seek along the pathways as a youngster with wild curls flying around her face.
He envisioned her as an adorable little fairy of a child, resembling Theo with a freckled nose and a heaping portion of pluck.
She still had a few of those freckles on her nose, and more pluck than many men he knew.
“Lucy, you are a wonder to me, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to know you.”
She stopped beside a blooming bush of summersweet. The fragrance it emitted of honey and spicy cloves added to the alluring perfume lingering in the air around them.
Lucy bracketed his hand with both of hers and turned her earnest face to his.
“I know I act put out by your presence more often than not, Mr. Barton, but it has brought gladness to my heart and joy to my days to look forward to your visits. I’m ever so pleased you’re here.
The thought of not seeing you for weeks was one I couldn’t quite bear to entertain. ”
“Is that your very polite and proper way of saying you were going to miss me?” Branch asked with a teasing grin.
Lucy swatted his chest and nodded. “Must you always be so coy and … impudent? As though everything is trivial and frivolous?”
“I must. Life is too short to spend it mired in propriety and seriousness. After all, it says right in Proverbs that a merry heart does good like a medicine.” Branch purposely preened like a peacock. “Just think of me as a health elixir.”
Lucy stared at him a moment before a giggle burst out of her, followed by another, until she laughed so hard tears rolled down her cheeks.
He used the pads of his thumbs to brush away the moisture, profoundly pleased he had made her laugh, as he had intended to do.
“You think quite a lot of yourself and your abilities if you think everyone could stomach a daily dose of you,” Lucy said when her humor subsided. “With all the treats you enjoy, I suppose you’d be like a spoonful of sugar.”
“That’s me. Sweet to the core,” Branch said in a wry voice, wondering how this romantic interlude had devolved into her laughing at him.
Lucy leaned her head against his arm and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you are, Branch. So glad,” she said in a voice that was quiet and thoughtful.
Branch had no interest in wandering among the flowers and spied a bench beneath a weeping willow tree.
“Let’s sit a moment,” he said, putting a hand to Lucy’s back and guiding her toward the bench. He assumed if her grandparents were concerned about anything untoward happening, they wouldn’t have practically shoved him out here alone with Lucy.
“It’s wonderful out here,” Lucy said, looking around. “I could happily stay and never leave.”
“Is that so,” Branch said, taking a seat on the bench and draping his arm along the back of it.
As Lucy settled beside him, it was hard to resist the temptation to yank off the cap she wore and let his fingers toy with the errant curls poking out around the edges.
“What about the jewelry you work so hard to create?”
“I could make it here just as well as at the shop, but I fear Papa would be disappointed if I didn’t return. And I can’t stay here indefinitely. I have …” She suddenly snapped her mouth shut, as though she had been about to reveal something quite important.
Branch already knew her secret, but he wanted her to tell him. If he wished her to be honest, though, he should reciprocate and tell her the truth about himself, his work, and how he came to be her grandparents’ neighbor.
“I realize your aunt, who looks more like your sister, lives next door, but how are you here, Branch? Don’t you have … obligations in the city?”
“I needed a bit of respite, and the farm is part mine. I come here when I can no longer be away from the peacefulness of it.” He sighed and looked out across the fields.
In the distance, he could see the barn he and Nate had worked hard to rebuild last year when Branch had been home for a few weeks.
“What is it you do, Branch, besides prance around Philadelphia, setting girlish hearts all aflutter?”
“I do not prance,” he protested, then realized by the impish expression on Lucy’s face that she was taunting him again. “Fluttering hearts are not my intention or fault.”
“Still, good sir, they are left in the wake of your charm.”
He leaned toward her. “Does that include you?”
Lucy plucked a flower growing at the end of the bench and stroked the petals. “Yes,” she admitted in a whisper.
They were quiet for a moment before she looked at him again. “I would like to know you, Burwell William Barton. Not the dashing fellow of the city, but the humble farmer beside me. How did you come to be here?”
Branch expelled a weary breath. If he intended to tell Lucy any of the story, he may as well tell it all. “It isn’t a pretty tale, Lucy. Are you certain you wish to hear it?”
She clasped his hand in hers again, and Branch felt warmth flow through his veins all the way to his heart. “Please?”