by R. L. Stine
Matthew was interrupted by Edward, perspiring from his walk across the pasture from his house. “Wait a moment, Uncle Matthew!” Edward cried. He raised his free hand to halt the conversation.
Startled, Matthew turned to his nephew. “Good morning, Nephew. Does the arm give much pain this morning?”
“Enough,” Edward replied dryly, glancing at his arm, suspended in the sling. “I overheard your conversation with this young man, Uncle Matthew. I believe we do need an extra hand.”
He gestured to his heavy sling. “You have lost my services for a while,” Edward continued. “I believe this boy’s timing is perfect. He can take some of my tasks—until my arm is healed.”
Matthew rubbed his chins thoughtfully, his eyes trained on Jeremy. “Maybe …” he muttered reluctantly. “Where do you come from, boy?”
“From the village,” Jeremy replied, eyeing Edward’s sling. “My father and I settled here recently. My father is ill, sir. I am our sole support.”
“No sad stories, please,” Matthew cut him off, still rubbing his many chins. Matthew studied him. “You look strong enough.”
Jeremy raised himself to his full height, throwing back his broad, muscular shoulders. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly.
Mary stood stiffly, watching them all. She wanted to urge her father to hire Jeremy, but she knew better than to utter a word. It was not her place.
Matthew nodded. “All right, Jeremy Thorne. You may begin by cleaning out that toolhouse.” He pointed to the low wooden structure behind the garden. “Pull all of the equipment out. We plan to build a bigger one.”
“Thank you, sir!” Jeremy exclaimed happily. “I am very grateful. And my pay?”
“Ten shillings a week,” Matthew replied quickly. “But let us see what kind of worker you are before we begin to think of you as more than temporary help.”
“Very good, sir,” Jeremy said. He glanced quickly at Mary.
She felt a shiver at the back of her neck.
He’s so good-looking, she thought, lowering her eyes to the ground.
All kinds of thoughts raced through her mind, surprising thoughts, exciting thoughts.
But of course Father would never approve of anything between a mere farmhand and me, she realized, stopping the flow of wild thoughts in midstream.
Jeremy Thorne.
Jeremy. Jeremy. Jeremy.
She couldn’t stop his name from repeating in her mind.
Her heart pounding, Mary took the egg basket from Jeremy and hurried to the house.
The talk at lunch was of the dreadful mishaps of the night before. Poor Edward. Poor Constance.
They all lowered their heads in prayer before starting their soup.
Mary couldn’t stop thinking about Jeremy.
All morning long as she’d done her many kitchen chores, she had sneaked peeks at him from the door. She saw that he was proving to be as hard a worker as he had claimed.
At the back of the garden she could see the pile of tools and heavy equipment he had dragged out of the toolhouse. She watched him working alone back there, lowering his head to enter the structure, then appearing again with another handful of items.
“Mary—what are you daydreaming about?” her mother demanded, breaking into Mary’s thoughts after lunch as they began washing the dishes.
“Nothing at all, really,” Mary lied, blushing.
“You barely said a word at lunch. I watched you,” Constance said. “You hardly touched your soup.”
“I wasn’t hungry, I guess, Mother,” Mary replied dreamily.
“Please stop gazing out into the garden and help me with the dishes,” Constance ordered. “You see I have only one hand.”
“Go rest, Mother,” Mary insisted. “I will clean the dishes by myself.”
After the dishes were washed and put away, Mary picked up a basket and headed out to the garden to pick vegetables for the evening meal.
The sun blazed down. Mary could see waves of heat rising off the near pasture.
As she bent to pull up some turnips, a movement at the back of the garden caught her eye. Jeremy was emerging, drenched with sweat, pulling out several heavy iron hoes and rakes.
On an impulse Mary dropped her vegetable basket to the dirt and hurried to the well at the side of the house.
A few seconds later she was standing in front of Jeremy, a tall pewter mug of cold well water in her hands. “Here,” she said, thrusting the mug at him. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
He smiled at her, breathing hard. His blond hair was matted flat to his forehead. He had removed his shirt, and his smooth, muscular chest glistened with sweat.
“You’re very kind, Miss Fier,” he said. He raised the mug to his lips and, keeping his blue eyes on her, thirstily gulped several mouthfuls. Then he tilted the mug over his head and dumped the rest on his hair. It poured over his hair and face and onto his tanned shoulders.
They both laughed.
“You may call me Mary,” she told him shyly, feeling her cheeks redden. “You’re a very hard worker,” she added quickly.
Her remark seemed to please him. “I believe in doing a job well,” he replied seriously. “My father and I, we have always been poor. My father’s health has never been good, so I have known hard work since I was barely out of swaddling clothes.”
Mary gazed over his shoulder toward the rolling green pasture. “I work hard, too,” she said wistfully. “There is so much to do on a farm this size.”
“It is an admirable place,” Jeremy said, turning to follow her gaze.
“It is very lonely here,” Mary said suddenly. She hadn’t planned on saying it. The words escaped before she could stop them. Her cheeks suddenly felt as if they were on fire. She lowered her eyes to the dirt.
“Do you have friends on other farms?” Jeremy asked softly. “Friends in town? Church friends?”
“No. I have my family. That is all,” Mary said sadly. She cleared her throat. “But I have so many chores that I am usually too busy to think about friends and—”
“You’re very pretty,” Jeremy interrupted.
Startled by the compliment, Mary looked up to find his blue eyes staring intently at her.
“I like your hair,” he said softly. “It is the color of sunset.”
“Thank you, Jeremy,” Mary replied awkwardly.
He took a step toward her, his eyes locked on hers.
What is he doing? Mary asked herself, feeling her heart start to pound.
Why is he staring at me like that? Is he trying to frighten me?
No. He’S going to kiss me, Mary realized.
She started to take a step back, to move away. But she stopped.
He’s going to kiss me. And I want him to.
“Mary!”
A voice behind her made her cry out.
She turned to see Rebecca running through the garden, waving to her wildly with both arms, her white apron flapping at the front of her dress as she ran.
Jeremy thrust the mug back at Mary, then turned and headed quickly toward the toolhouse.
“Rebecca, what is the matter?” Mary demanded, gripping the empty pewter mug in both hands.
“Have you seen Matthew? Edward? Where are they?” Rebecca cried, her features twisted in fear.
“Rebecca, what is the matter?” Mary repeated.
“Come quickly, Mary,” Rebecca insisted, grabbing Mary’s arm. “Please. Come. Something horrible has happened!”
Chapter 15
With Rebecca’s shrill, frightened cry still ringing in her ears, Mary raced after her through the garden to the house.
“This way!” Rebecca shouted breathlessly, running through the kitchen and into the sitting room.
It took Mary’s eyes a while to adjust to the sudden darkness. She gasped out loud when she saw Benjamin sprawled stiffly on his back on the floor.
“Look—that is how I found him!” Rebecca cried, pointing with a trembling finger. Her black hair had come undone
and fell in disarray over her shoulders. Her dark lips formed an O of horror as she stared at the fallen man.
Mary dropped to her knees beside Benjamin. “Is he … is he …?” she stammered. “Is he dead, Rebecca?”
She peered into Benjamin’s face. His eyes were frozen in a glazed, wide-eyed stare. His mouth hung open loosely, revealing two rows of perfect teeth.
“I—I think so,” Rebecca replied in a whisper. Then she ran back to the doorway, shouting, “Matthew! Matthew! Edward! Come quickly!”
Mary reached for Benjamin’s hand and squeezed it. It was as cold as ice.
She swallowed hard, gaping down into the blank dark eyes that stared lifelessly up at her.
I’ve never seen a dead person, she thought.
“What’s happening, Rebecca?” Edward had appeared in the doorway. “I heard you calling, and—” He lowered his eyes to the floor. “Father?”
“He—he must have been sitting there,” Rebecca stammered, pointing to the high-backed chair against the wall. “He must have fallen. I think—”
“Father!” Edward cried again and dropped beside Mary. “Is he breathing?”
“I don’t think so,” Mary said softly. “I think—”
She and Edward both cried out at once as Benjamin blinked.
“Father!”
“Uncle Benjamin!”
He blinked again. His lips quivered. His mouth slowly closed.
“He’s alive!” Mary told Rebecca happily. Rebecca let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. Slumping against a wall, she began whispering a prayer.
Benjamin raised his head groggily.
“Lie still, Father. Take your time,” Edward urged, a hand on Benjamin’s shoulder.
“I am able to rise,” Benjamin insisted gruffly. “Let me up.”
Edward moved his hands behind Benjamin’s shoulders and helped him to sit up.
“Uncle Benjamin, what happened? How do you feel?” Mary asked.
“I must have been dozing,” Benjamin growled, shaking his head, blinking several times to clear his eyes. “Fell from the chair, I guess.”
Matthew burst into the room breathing hard, his round face bright red from the exertion of hurrying. “Was someone calling me?” he asked breathlessly. He cried out when he saw his brother on the floor.
“I am fine,” Benjamin told him. “Do not get hysterical.”
He started to climb to his feet, then hesitated. His expression turned to surprise.
“Uncle Benjamin, what is it?” Mary asked, still on her knees beside him. The others drew near.
“My left leg,” Benjamin muttered. “I can’t move it.” He moved his right leg, drawing it up, then making the foot roll from side to side.
“I have no feeling,” Benjamin said, sounding more startled than worried. “No feeling at all in the left leg.”
Glancing up, Mary watched as her father grasped the odd three-toed medallion he wore around his neck. “How strange!” Matthew declared.
“Edward, help me to my feet,” Benjamin ordered.
Edward obediently wrapped an arm around his father’s shoulders and with great difficulty hoisted him to his feet.
Benjamin’s eyes narrowed as he tried to put weight on his left leg. He would have fallen if Edward and Mary hadn’t caught him.
“No feeling in the leg at all,” Benjamin said thoughtfully. “It does not hurt. There is no pain. It does not feel like anything. It is as if the leg has been taken away from me.”
Wisps of clouds floated low in a bright sky. The white trunks of the beech trees at the end of the pasture gleamed in the late afternoon sunlight.
Mary stepped along at the edge of the woods, lifting her skirt over low shrubs and rocks. Above her the leaves trembled in a soft breeze.
She turned where the trees ended and felt the blood pulse at her temples as Jeremy came into view. He was working shirtless as usual, his back to her, tugging with gloved hands at a tangle of brambles at his feet.
She crept closer. The tree leaves appeared to tremble harder.
Or is it my imagination? Mary wondered. Is it just my excitement?
For three days Jeremy had been working to clear the brambles from this new section of land. Each afternoon Mary had met him there. She brought him water from the well. Jeremy would take a break from his solitary efforts. They would sit together on a fallen tree trunk and talk.
Jeremy was so sweet, so understanding, so kind, Mary came to believe. She could feel herself growing close to him. She could feel herself beginning to fall in love with him. The feelings swept over her gently, almost like pulling on a favorite wool cloak.
Comfortable. Reassuring. Warm.
“I feel as if I’ve known you all my life,” she told him after he had finished the mug of cold water. Her eyes trailed a gold and black butterfly as it fluttered near the trees.
Sitting beside her on the smooth tree trunk, he kicked the soft dirt with the heel of one boot. “Every afternoon I worry that you won’t come,” he said softly.
“Here I am,” she replied, smiling.
“But if your father found out—” Jeremy started, staring into her eyes as if challenging her, a wave of blond hair tumbling over his forehead.
Mary’s smile faded. “My father would not approve,” she admitted. “After all, you are only a poor farmhand, without a shilling. And I—”
“You? You are royalty!” Jeremy joked. But there was bitterness behind the joke. “Queen Anne!” He rose to his feet and dipped his head in a courtly bow.
Mary giggled. “Please stop. I am sure that after time—”
“Time,” Jeremy muttered. His eyes went to the thick brambles that rolled over the rocky ground. “Time for me to get back to work,” he said. “Your father has instructed me to clear this field before the week is out.”
“My father is not the true snob of the family,” Mary said, lost in her own thoughts. “My uncle Benjamin would be much more alarmed than my father if he knew—”
“How does your uncle Benjamin feel?” Jeremy interrupted, his features tensing in concern.
“Not well,” Mary replied, frowning. “His left arm has given out along with the leg.”
“You mean—?”
“He cannot move the left arm now. He has no feeling in it. It is completely numb, he says. His entire left side is paralyzed.”
“And how are his spirits?” Jeremy asked.
“Hard to tell,” Mary replied thoughtfully. “He is as difficult and cantankerous as ever. He is not a man to give in to illness or affliction.” She sighed. “Despite his strong spirit, he is as helpless as a baby.”
“He is lucky to have you as a nurse,” Jeremy replied, his eyes lighting up.
And before Mary could cry out or protest, he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers.
Closing her eyes, Mary returned the kiss eagerly.
This is not proper. This isn’t right.
But I do not care, she thought.
“Edward, please wait for me,” Mary pleaded. “Don’t walk so fast.” Twigs snapped beneath her shoes as she hurried to catch up to him.
“Sorry,” Edward said, turning to her. He pulled up a long, straight reed with his good hand and stuck one end in his mouth. “I was thinking about something.”
Mary stepped up beside him breathlessly. “About your father?”
Edward nodded.
A bird cawed loudly above their heads. Mary gazed up into a red sunset sky to see two large blackbirds standing side by side on a low limb.
“Are blackbirds good luck or bad?” she asked her cousin lightly.
“Bad luck, I believe,” he replied thoughtfully. “Black is the color of death, is it not?”
“You do not have to be so gloomy,” Mary complained. “I asked you to come out for a walk to cheer you up.”
“Sorry.” He frowned. “I am gloomy. I cannot help it, Mary.”
“Because of your arm, Edward? It’will heal.”
“No,” he re
plied, glancing down at the heavy sling. “I am worried about my father. And Rebecca. And—”
“Rebecca?” Mary interrupted, stepping over a tree stump. “Is Rebecca ill?”
Edward shook his head. “No. But she seems so weary all the time, so exhausted. So dispirited. She seems so different to me.”
“I think she is tired,” Mary told him. “Ezra is not an easy child.”
Edward didn’t reply. They continued their walk through the woods in silence. The last rays of sunlight slid between the slender trees, casting rippling blue shadows at their feet.
“It is nearly dinnertime,” Edward said finally, chewing on the end of the reed. “Rebecca will worry.”
“Let us head back,” Mary agreed, running her fingers along the trunk of a tall oak as she turned around.
“I tried to speak to my father this afternoon,” Edward told her, letting her take the lead. “I needed to speak to him about the receipts for the store. But he would only talk about his paralyzed arm and leg.”
“Oh!”
They had walked into a swarm of buzzing gnats. Mary raised her hands to shield her eyes. She quickened her pace, nearly stumbling over a jagged white rock in her path.
“It is so strange about Father,” Edward continued, still scratching his neck, even though the gnats had been left behind. “He feels perfectly fine. He seems to be in good health. He has no pain. And yet—”
“Perhaps his strength will return,” Mary said hopefully. She stopped and turned to him. “You seem so troubled, Cousin. You can talk of nothing but our family’s gloomy problems and mishaps.”
“Everything was going so well for us,” Edward replied with emotion. “We were all so happy. And now, all of a sudden—”
He stopped walking.
Mary saw his eyes grow wide and his mouth drop open. The reed fell to his feet.
“Edward—what is it?”
She turned as he pointed.
At first she thought the yellow glow was the sun poking between the trees.
But she quickly remembered that the sun was nearly down. This yellow glow was too bright, too fiery.
