Just barely.
Though Whitaker smiled, something seemed off. His eyes were cautious, considering, as if he was assessing a situation that could turn dangerous. His hesitation gave me pause, and worries rose like a flock of startled birds within me.
“You made it through the winter,” Merry said. “How are you?”
“Fine, just fine,” he said swaying back and forth on his heels and studiously avoiding my stare. “And how are the Downings?”
“We’re fine,” I said, uncomfortably aware of how often we’d repeated that word. “We all made it through the winter, mostly….Bessie died. Our cow. And a few of the chickens.”
He dragged his gaze away from Merry. “I’m sorry to hear that. It was certainly a rough winter on everyone…but you’re both looking well.”
His lie rang hollowly in the spring air.
We weren’t, and we knew it. Hip bones jutted uncomfortably through the gathers of our skirts, and shadows rimmed our eyes. After so many months cooped up in the farmhouse, my skin was sallow, tinged with a yellow hue that would take more than an afternoon of hive inspections to correct.
A dark burr worried me as I took stock of my flaws. Had he truly cared so much about my outer appearance?
“Merry!”
We turned to see Sadie standing on the porch, peering over the fields with her hand shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Are you done with the bees? I need help!”
With the schoolhouse still closed, Merry oversaw Sadie’s classwork, often leaving her tasks quickly scrawled on bits of paper throughout the house. Though it brought neither of them delight, both Sadie’s penmanship and math skills had been improving.
With a heavy sigh, Merry foisted the smoker into my arms and muttered goodbye to Whitaker. The screen door slammed shut behind her with a listless thunk.
“Here, I can take those,” Whitaker said, scooping the chisels and smoker from me.
Hands free, I took off my hat and shook out my braid. It felt damp and heavy at the back of my neck. We stared at each other for a long moment. I opened my mouth, but words failed to form.
“How are they?” he finally asked, gesturing to the boxes.
I grinned around my discomfort. “Every hive made it through the winter. It was all because of your sugar….If you hadn’t—”
“If you hadn’t,” he corrected me, and for a moment the tension—tightening between us like a thread pulled taut by a spindle—snapped.
“It’s…it’s good to see you again,” I said, stepping into the shed. I set down my hat and gathered the netted veil into its center to keep it safe from snags.
“Yes.” He arranged the chisels along the table, from smallest to biggest, and straightened their line with soft, short adjustments.
“I…I missed you,” I admitted, careful to keep my voice neutral.
His smile neither faded nor deepened. “Ellerie,” he started, and my sternum ached at his tone. His feelings had changed. Or I’d read too much into them in the first place, wistfully dreaming up things that were not mine to dream.
I crossed toward the door, intent on fleeing my embarrassment and shame.
“I’ve not been fair to you,” he called out, stalling me. I didn’t shift but could sense his approach. I had the distinct impression that he reached out, nearly touching the sharp curve of my shoulder blade, before having second thoughts. “I had a lot of time to think this winter, and…I won’t be in Amity Falls forever. You know that, right?”
I nodded. “You’ve got the furs to sell…but you’ll return when they have, won’t you?” When I looked back, he seemed taller somehow, as if he’d spent the season growing fuller and wiser, while I’d shrunk smaller, tired and hollowed from the inside out. “Before fall?” I persisted. “Jean Garreau always did. He’d come back to set his traps and ready his camp and—”
Whitaker cupped my cheek, silencing me. “I don’t know. The others…I don’t have much say in it.” He mustered a small laugh. “I’m making such a mess of this….I came here to let you know that the winter drifts have finally thawed. The pass is open again.”
“So you’ll be leaving soon,” I murmured, feeling my heart sink.
He nodded. “And I want you to come with me.”
“What?”
He took my hands in his, the press of his fingers against mine pleading and fervent. “Let’s leave this place. Leave the Falls. We could go anywhere, do anything. Sleep under the stars or stay at the finest hotels. There’s so much of the world beyond God’s Grasp. Let’s go find it. Together.”
His words painted such an alluring daydream, I was dizzy with the possibilities. I pictured promenading down a street in a far-off city, clutching Whitaker’s arm as we marveled at the wonders in the shop windows, dressed in stylish clothes and laughing gaily. I imagined nights spent in a shared tent, falling asleep as we listened to spring peepers and each other’s heartbeats, warm and safe in the security we’d created.
But when I glanced around the work shed, those thoughts faded away as reality came into sharper focus.
I smiled sadly. “That sounds lovely.”
“But?” he guessed, feeling my words to come.
“What about Sadie? Merry? Who would look after them?”
“Your parents will be back soon. With the pass open, they could arrive any day now.”
“With a new brother or sister,” I said, praying that was true. “They’ll need me here, especially with Sam gone.” I took a deep swallow, wanting to cry. “I couldn’t leave them like that.”
He sighed, his gaze falling to the tight pledge our hands formed. “No, I suppose not.”
I leaned into him, breathing his scent. “But…you could stay here. There’s always work that needs to be done, and when Papa comes back…I know he values you. And he’d give us his blessing if…”
I stopped before I could pour out the tangled hopes I’d wished for all winter.
Whitaker taking my hand in his.
A pretty dress and a pair of rings.
A cabin of our own where we’d wake each morning, even more in love than the day before.
His gaze weighed heavily on me, but I couldn’t bear to meet it lest he somehow read those tender, private thoughts flooding through me.
“I wish it was that easy.”
“Why couldn’t it be?”