by Rebecca York
“So he says.”
Sophie wanted to lash out at this man who was judging her father unfairly, but she understood there was no way to convince him of Daddy’s honesty. You had to know him to understand that he would never steal. She thought of examples of how he never cheated on the weight of feed that he put into a sack or brought anything home to the family without asking first. But any examples she gave would fall into the category of protesting too much.
Not only that, she also knew that getting into an altercation with the Highland Farm manager was a dumb idea. If he had something bad to say about her, she could probably lose her job. Now she was kicking herself for saying anything about it at all.
She clasped her hands around the jar of applesauce as she stared into the sheeting rain, watching for the turnoff, thankful that they weren’t in her family’s farm wagon being pulled by horses.
Jack was hunched forward, his gaze glued to the windshield, struggling to see through the downpour.
Suddenly a large tree branch lying across the road loomed in their path blocking the lane. Her heart leaped into her throat, but Jack saw it before she did and pumped the brake. Still, she was thrown forward and had to brace her hand against the dash. She watched in horror as the truck kept sliding. She was sure they were going to crash. But finally, the vehicle stopped inches from the branch.
“Sorry.”
“No. I think you did the right thing.”
He sat still for moment, then backed up before inching forward, moving into the far lane to avoid the limb. There was just room enough to squeeze by, and when they were past the obstruction, he swung back to the right.
They were climbing a hill now, and a lot of water was running down the pavement. He slowed, periodically testing the brakes as he kept up his cautious pace. She could see the tension in his face, and she was glad that she didn’t have to drive—not that she even knew how. There was nothing she could do to help except watch out for the turnoff. Missing it in this awful weather would be the icing on the cake.
Finally, she called out above the sound of the rain, “It’s right up there.”
Chapter Six
Jack permitted himself a silent, Thank God.
This nightmare trip from hell was almost over. The deluge was coming down harder, the windshield wipers unable to keep up. Not only that, water was now rising around them.
About a hundred yards before they reached the turnoff, a river swept down the hill, slamming into the car. One moment they were in the right lane. In the next they were being swept toward the ditch.
“Shit.”
The exclamation escaped Jack’s lips as he was pressed back against the seat, gripping the wheel, fighting panic while he tried to stay on the blacktop. But it was a losing battle. The light truck rocked sideways, the tires on the passenger side leaving the pavement, tipping at a dangerous angle.
He was sure they were going to end up on their side being swept downhill like a piece of debris in the flood, but somehow he was able to turn the vehicle enough to stay upright. Or maybe the rushing water turned it for him.
The torrent kept speeding past, but it was flowing around them. When he was pretty sure they were not going to be swept away, he turned to Sophie.
“Sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault… . The water took us by surprise. I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”
He laughed. “I mean about that expletive.”
“I’ve heard worse.”
“Are you all right? I mean are you banged up or anything?”
She moved her arms and legs. “I think I’m OK.”
The engine had stopped, inundated by the water. He looked out the window. “I guess we’re stuck here for a while.”
She leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment, and he figured she was thinking she’d been so close to getting rid of him. After their previous conversation, he was the last person she’d want to get stuck with in a rainstorm. But here they were in a little world defined by the truck cab and the storm raging outside.
He didn’t know what he was expecting from her, but her next words surprised him. “I’m so glad Hannah made it home safely before the rain got so bad.”
“Yes,” he answered. In a crisis, the first thing she’d thought of was someone else—not herself.
He reached for the key and turned it, pulling the choke lever and pressing on the gas. As he expected, nothing happened.
“I think we have to wait it out.”
“Right. It’s too dangerous to get out of the cab,” he advised
She nodded, looking down at the jar in her lap. “At least I didn’t drop it and spatter applesauce all over the place.”
He dragged in a breath and let it out. “That’s something.”
He tried to think how he’d be reacting to her if he wasn’t worried about her criminal father. Silently, he admitted that he’d be attracted to her. He would have liked the way she spoke up for herself. And he would be admiring the way she hadn’t panicked when the car had gone into the ditch.
Yeah, all that—if he was honest.
His mind turned to thoughts of rescue. “What time did you say you were coming home?”
“We didn’t know how long I’d be working. But they’ll be expecting me back soon. Hopefully, they’ll come looking for us.”
“I hope so.”
“If we’re stuck here for the night, we can eat the applesauce,” she said.
He laughed. “With our fingers?”
“I guess we could drink it like soup—if you don’t mind sharing with me.”
That image that leaped into his mind was a little too intimate for him. He opened the window and craned his neck out. The rain was lessening, and the flood was receding.
It was almost dark, and she asked. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“There should be one in the toolbox. Why do you want one?”
“We could get out and walk up to my house. It’s just up ahead.”
“Maybe.”
After a few minutes, he realized that he heard fewer droplets hitting the roof. And when he opened the door and looked down at the pavement on his side of the vehicle, he saw that the torrent had abated. Apparently, they’d gotten here just at the wrong time.
“I think the flood is over, but we’re not going to be able to drive,” he said. “Not with all that water in the engine. But I’m not sure how long it will take anyone to find us. Maybe we should get to your house—before it starts again.”
He walked around to the back and opened the toolbox. To his relief, he did find a flashlight and switched it on.
“Let’s go. Don’t try to get out into the ditch,” he warned.
“Yes.”
When he moved out of the way, she slid across the seat, awkwardly maneuvering her skirt and legs around the gearshift. With the truck tipped to the side, it was a long way down for Sophie. She inched to the edge, then lowered herself, losing her balance in the process.
Striding forward, he caught her in his arms.
She landed against him, clinging, her body molded to his but separated by the heavy clothing they wore and the hard lump of the jar she held. The feeling of holding her was unexpectedly intoxicating, and he gathered her closer in a kind of silent celebration that they had come through the worst—he hoped. She clung to him. Her voice was husky when she said, “Thanks.”
“Thanks for not panicking when we went off the road,” he answered.
“You mean not showing it.”
“Yeah. I know girls who would have been screaming.”
He’d made assumptions about her family and about her, and he figured now that they were probably wrong. But before he could sort through what he was feeling, she eased out of his arms.
Struggling to reorient himself, he played the light on the pavement and swept it up the road. When he saw no major obstacles to their progress, he said, “Lead the way.”
They had taken only a few steps when he heard the sound of
an engine behind him. Turning, he saw headlights cutting through the darkness. A car pulled to a stop on the road behind them. Jack’s father and Matt Conway got out.
Both of them hurried over.
“Are you all right?” the men asked.
“Yes,” Jack and Sophie both answered.
Jack turned to Matt. “The water swept us off the road. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
Another man might have groused about the damage to his truck, but Matt Conway wasn’t one who liked to assign blame.
Still Jack was relieved when he said, “Sophie needs a ride home.”
“Of course.”
She looked shyly at the two newcomers. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Matt snapped, then softened his voice. “I’m sure you had quite a fright.”
“Both of us did,” Jack answered. “I thought we were going over.”
When they climbed into the back seat of the car, Matt headed for the Conway farm.
###
Sophie felt her stomach clench as the vehicle approached her house. She’d suggested Jack come there with her because that was the better alternative to staying in the truck. Now everybody was going to see how poor the Garretts were.
She huddled to herself in the back seat of the Ford, keeping her distance from Jack. He’d wrapped her in his arms after she’d almost fallen out of the truck. She was feeling shy with him again.
Well, not as shy as she had when she’d first come to Highland Farm this morning.
Was it only this morning? It seemed like months ago that she’d arrived to start her new job. She’d been nervous that she’d mess up somehow. But it seemed that Dora and Hannah were pleased with her work. And she and Jenny had gotten along famously.
And then Jack had been a surprise. Had he changed his mind about her—or was she still on probation in his mind?
She saw lights inside the house. As they pulled up in the drive, one of the front curtains was swept aside. It dropped back into place moments before the door flew open and Momma dashed across the porch and down the steps.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Sophie?” she called. “Is everything OK?”
“I’m right here.” She got out so that her mother could see her. So did Mr. Conway.
“She’s fine. She was on her way home in the truck when they got caught in a flash flood.”
Momma ran down to the car and gathered Sophie to her. “You’re sure you’re OK?”
“Yes.” She wanted to add, “Don’t make a fuss over me in front of everybody,” but she kept silent.
Now that her mother knew she was all right, the next question would be, “Did everything go OK?”
But she wasn’t going to ask out here.
“Let’s go in,” Sophie said, “and I’ll tell you about my day.” She held up the jar she’d been cradling since leaving the farm. Miraculously it hadn’t broken. “And here’s the applesauce Dora gave us.” She turned back to the men, “Thank you for rescuing us.”
She was thankful when more rain started to fall—which gave her an excuse to cut the conversation short and duck into the house.
Chapter Seven
A car showed up for Sophie at nine, and when she came down the steps, she blinked.
Mr. Conway sat behind the wheel, and she guessed he wanted to say something to her.
“You didn’t need to pick me up,” she said as she got into the car.
“It would be a long cold walk,” he answered as he headed down the drive.
In the light, she could see small limbs all over the road, and she knew the storm had been worse than they could see in the dark. Probably they’d been lucky that no branches had fallen on them.
Looking toward the side, she tried to spot the truck tipped into the ditch, but the vehicle was no longer there.
“I had it towed this morning,” Mr. Conway explained.
“I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He turned his gaze from the road for a moment to look at her. “I had good reports about you yesterday.”
“I did my best.”
“And you were a big help. You took some of the load off Dora, and Emeline is talking about how much fun she had with you.”
“Emeline.”
“Yes. Jenny conveys a lot of information through her doll.”
“I noticed that.” She didn’t mention anything about the trouble with Billy Ludlow. Probably it was best to stay away from that subject.
They reached the farm quickly, and Mr. Conway went off to the stable. The three females in the house were waiting for her.
“We’ve got more apples,” Dora said. “You can help me peel them, and we’ll make some pies.”
“And she can play with me and Emeline later,” Jenny piped up.
“Yes,” Hannah answered.
The next few days set the pattern of Sophie’s work at Highland Farm. There were many routine jobs that she could take off Dora’s hands. And the older woman was an excellent teacher. Momma’s cooking was good, and she did a lot of canning and preserving, but there were only certain basic things she made for family meals. Working with Dora was an opportunity to try new dishes. To get ready for Christmas, they were baking fruitcakes, which meant a lot of chopping of nuts and candied fruit. And Sophie also learned the steps for cooking fudge and caramels, wondering how anyone had thought up these complicated techniques in the first place.
One of the men came into the kitchen in the middle of the candy making. When she looked up and saw it was Jack, her heart beat a little faster.
He set down a big sack of sugar on the counter. “Here you go.”
Dora looked at him, surprised. “That was fast.”
“I was going into town anyway. It was no trouble to stop at the grocers.”
As though noticing Sophie for the first time, he said, “Sorry to interrupt.”
“No, that’s fine,” she answered, sliding a hand down the front of her apron.
“How are you getting along?”
“Fine.” Was fine the only word she knew?
“Sophie made this batch of fudge,” his mother interjected.
He looked impressed. “Isn’t that hard?”
“Your mom is a good teacher.”
“Go ahead and take one,” Dora offered.
“Well, maybe half.” He picked one up, broke it down the middle and handed half to Sophie.
She took it from him, feeling a little spark leap between them as her finger touched his much larger one. Had he felt it too? She looked down at the candy and took a small bite. Instead of nibbling, he popped his half into his mouth.
He swallowed. “Great job.”
“Thanks.”
He didn’t move for a moment, then seemed to shake himself. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Me too.”
Had Dora been watching all that? And what was all that?
Feeling her cheeks flush, Sophie looked around quickly and saw the older woman had turned her back and was busy filling a dishpan with water.
###
Later that afternoon, Jenny said she wanted to make Christmas decorations, and Hannah joined them, bringing colored papers, ribbons, tinfoil, sparkles, and glue.
“We’re going to have a big tree,” the little girl chattered. “Daddy’s gonna cut it down, and it will be right over there.” She pointed to a corner of the living room. We have some of those shiny balls, but I want to put stuff we made, too. You can take some for your family.”
The offer was like a dash of cold water on the fun activity. Nobody in her house was making any Christmas decorations, and why bother? She was sure they weren’t going to have a tree, unless she and the boys chopped down a small one. Maybe they should. She and Momma might not feel like celebrating, but they should do something for the kids.
“Thank you,” she said to the little girl.
“From now on take the ones you make.”
“Yes, thanks,” she said again with a catch in her voice.
Hannah looked at her. “What is it?”
“My dad, you know.”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Fighting back tears, Sophie nodded and went back to cutting a yellow star from one of the colored papers Hannah had bought.
###
A couple of days later, Mr. Conway came into the kitchen, surprising Sophie and Dora while they were preparing lunch.
“Have you seen Jack?” he asked.
“No, they both answered.”
“He’s usually over at the stable around this time, but I haven’t seen him all day.”
Dora looked up sharply, and Sophie couldn’t help feeling a spurt of worry.
“Perhaps one of you can go over to his house and see what’s going on with him.”
His mother stood, her face tense with concern. Sophie also jumped up. “You don’t need to walk over there in the cold. Let me do it.”
“I’d appreciate that,” the older woman answered. “Let me know right away.”
“Of course.” Sophie felt a sheepish expression creep onto her face. “Except that I’m not exactly sure where his house is.”
“I can point you in the right direction,” Mr. Conway said. “There’s nothing else over that way, so you can’t get mixed up about what building it is.”
Sophie grabbed her coat and followed him outside. He pointed toward a rutted track that led in the direction of a low hill.
“That’s the road. You’ll see the house as soon as you get to the top of the rise.”
She followed the road, unable to see anything but fields and woods on either side. Then, when she reached the top of the hill, she spotted a small house not too far off. It was even smaller than where she lived, and as she drew closer, she could see that it was in bad repair. Well not all of it. The roof looked new, but the porch sagged, and the weathered siding needed a coat of paint.
The yard was weedy, except for bare patches where Jack must have cleared away debris, which now sat in a huge pile. The truck they’d ridden in during the storm was parked near the house.
Nothing moved. There wasn’t even smoke coming out of the chimney. Gingerly, she climbed the steps to the porch. When she knocked on the door, there was no answer.
