Of Needles and Haystacks Ann Fryer (ebook reader with built in dictionary .TXT) 📖

“But you’ve made her my business since her parents died.”

“So, what’s the problem, David? Why won’t you show me?” Then a look of understanding dawned on Hammond’s face, then a bit of consternation. “You’ve gone and written her love letters.” Disbelief shocked his face. “You want this farm. Can’t say as I blame you.”

“Absolutely not!” James was shaken to his core. Did Hammond think him capable of such manipulation? His voice dropped low. “Just a few receipts that needed clarifying. No need to worry about them.”

James faced Hammond, both staring in disbelief over what had taken place.

“Davy-boy...James...we never had words before this. I’m sorry. Guess the whole thing has me on edge. I’m heading to the barn.” He turned to walk away. “I trust your business skills. More than anyone.” He mumbled behind his back.

James stared after him and then up towards Dorothy’s door. He’d taken a big chance on her. True, he’d left out the letters and only handed over the receipts. They made it plain, plenty clear enough. Hammond was right. Women didn’t have a place in business. He hiked up the attic stair, feeling the crinkle in his vest. How on earth did she get so all-fired mad?

Chapter 12

MARCH 10, 1880

I spent most of the day in the strawberry field with Helen who kept her distance down the patch aways. My generous gift upset her more than ever. I found the dress placed in the front of my wardrobe this morning. It felt like a slap.

Kirsten, on the other hand, embraced me as she has often done since coming. “The most glorious dress I’ve ever owned!” Her smile validated her words.

Helen had mumbled, “Everyone will know where it came from.”

Kirsten shrugged. “I don’t care. I shall enjoy it to the fullest. Dorothy is like our sister now, isn’t she? Sisters share.”

Helen hadn’t replied and left me feeling a fool for my kindness. I wasn’t sure what she needed of me. Nevertheless, I knelt beside her and swiped rotten leaves away from the greening plants. Helen cut and replanted daughter shoots still attached to the mother.

Ernest said the daughter plant would receive nutrients from the mother’s nutrients so it could thrive while growing its own sufficient roots. And hopefully grow triple the strawberries than produced the year before. Strawberries were an expensive treat to purchase in the city. Out here, I may eat my fill once they are ready! Such a prospect brightened my day, even after last night.

Helen began to hum but stopped when she remembered me. Even though the day was cloudy, it wasn’t as cool as it had been. I stood staring into the distant fields, not doing one profitable thing for this strawberry patch but dream up future desserts. As it stands, they may be all sour if moods could taint the plants.

I decided to confront Helen. I did not want to spend my day shadowed by her irritability. “How have I offended you, cousin?”

She lifted a glance in blushed surprise. She shook her head.

“I must know. If I am to live here day by day, I’d rather be your friend.” I held her glance. “Let me apologize for how I must have hurt you.”

She planted her hands over her bent knees. “You haven’t hurt me.”

“Oh?”

“Chess...” She gulped but didn’t continue.

“I see.”

Her eyes watered around the edges. “You do?”

“Young men can seem cruel.” But I only knew this from novels. Young men had yet to try my heart...

Helen stood, soil sprinkling across her apron. “He likes you. Likes you a lot. I overheard him speaking to Ernest.” Her eyes drooped down. “I shouldn’t have been in the hayloft, couldn’t help myself.”

“You realize I’ve spent a scant five minutes in his presence? He must have been speaking of another.”

“No. He wasn’t.” A tear escaped and she brushed it away with her sleeve.

“Did you think I would fall in love with him and spoil your chances?” Without trying, I was finding myself in a sticky situation with several members of this house simultaneously.

“I’m not sure what I’ve been thinking.” She flushed clear down to her collar bones.

Jealousy is like a mouse hidden in our hearts. Comes out at the darkest moments to gnaw our hopes to shreds. Mother said that good, honest truth can help tear jealousies out by the roots.

“The truth is, Helen, I’m not the least interested in Chess.” Should I continue? “Believe me, you want to marry someone who truly loves you. Why should us girls set our caps after men who don’t give us a chance?”

A smirkish grin spread across her face.

“I take comfort in knowing that God has the right one set aside for me. Trust Him.” Oh, but did I take comfort?  Did I actually trust Him? I spoke Mother’s truth to my dear cousin because it seemed like the best answer for a difficult moment. I took a deep breath, realizing again, in my pain, that I had no choice but to trust. But comfort, I knew I had to choose.

She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I am so sorry. With Toliver leaving and...”

“Say no more.” I nearly offered the dress back—but perhaps this was not the right moment.

Indeed, many moments turned hazardous if I didn’t properly handle them.

Last night, Uncle and Mr. Bleu had words. Me, handing a packet over to Mr. Bleu in full sight of Uncle had been a good punishment for him—toying with me as he had done. As if receipts held actual answers. I bit my lip in concern. Perhaps there had been something there that I’d missed. Perhaps I had been rash in handing them over. I hoped not.

Uncle demanded to see what they were. Mr. Bleu refused. He truly didn’t want them seen. Uncle immediately suspected them to be unwanted love notes. Perfectly foolish thought.

Loud accusations snapped down the hall and snaked into my room. Aunt visited me later—came in without knocking. I suppose that is her way with her daughters, though my mother would