by Coralee June
In front of the mine’s entrance was a log cabin that served as their office. I walked towards it, praying I wouldn’t have to search for them in the mines.
I entered the door and was surprised to find Patrick snoozing at his desk peacefully. I wished I had my tablet out so I could capture his peaceful face in a photograph, but before I could reach for it, Huxley stormed in the door with a murderous expression.
“Is this where you’ve been all morning?!” he roared, causing Patrick to startle and fall out of his chair. I stifled a giggle.
“And what are you doing here?” he added in a growl.
I’m not sure what came over me, but his tone and my tiredness from the week before caught up with me, and to my surprise, I growled back.
“I was bringing you lunch, you giant jerk!” I hoped that at the very least, Huxley would get mad at my outburst, but instead, he merely shook his head, and the ghost of a smile graced his perfectly-shaped lips.
He reached out and grabbed the basket full of meat and cheese from my thin fingers. He peered inside, while Patrick dusted himself off and massaged his jaw.
“Well, come on, sit down and eat with us, or Maverick will get on to us for being rude,” Huxley said in a clipped tone.
I accepted the small win gratefully, and they spent lunch discussing the different operations of the mine. It was interesting to hear about how much coordination and scheduling went into managing the mines, as well as how little help they had. All their talk about the running of the mine made me realize that Huxley was cranky because he was exhausted.
I observed how perfectly the twins mirrored each other but with individual quirks that made their contrasting personalities stand out. Patrick’s movements were fluid and graceful, and Huxley moved with a staccato aggressiveness that seemed out of place for a polite lunch
To my dismay, Patrick left in the middle to address a fight between two miners. He kissed me lightly on the cheek while walking out, and I wiped it instantly, afraid Huxley would notice and get angry again.
“You’ve built up a great mine,” I observed. Without Patrick, the silence made my chest feel heavy. Huxley’s warning still echoed in my mind, and I felt unsure of how to act around him.
“We do fine,” he grunted. We continued to eat, but the silence gnawed at me.
“What have I done to make you hate me so?” I asked candidly. Maybe if I understood why he hated me, we could move past this unnecessary tension.
“Jacob told us that he told you what happened with Jules.” He shrugged. “I made a promise to him that I would never allow anyone to endanger our group again. This town has lost almost everything. I’ve had to bury my neighbor's daughters. Their sons. They need a cohesive leadership council.”
“I’m not a threat to you,” I barked.
Huxley looked me up and down with appraising eyes. “You are exactly the kind of threat I’d like to avoid,” he said. “We’re a competitive bunch, and someone like you could ruin us.”
I openly gaped at him. I’m a nobody. How could he possibly think that I could ruin anything? I reached out and grabbed his hand. Dirt completely covered it, and he tried to yank it away, but I gripped harder, refusing to release my hold.
“I am not a threat to you,” I insisted, waiting until he looked me in the eye. “I’m not Jules. I’m just a girl that needed a safe place and freedom.” Admitting this hurt me, and I released his hand to wipe a tear that streamed down my cheek.
“The fact that you don’t know your power makes you that much more destructive.”
I flinched at his words. How could he think I would ever do anything to hurt the people that gave me a life outside of the Stonewell House?
“I see,” I whispered. I quickly stood and threw away the trash from lunch. Within seconds, I had packed the leftovers and was fleeing out the door. Huxley didn’t stop me, nor did he apologize. I suddenly felt determined to prove him wrong. I would become like a sister to them. Despite the undeniable, but minor attraction I felt towards them. I refused to allow Huxley to have any further reason to hate me.
Perhaps my new determination was what encouraged me to answer the tablet call that rang in my room the moment I arrived in my bedroom. I sighed but answered on the fourth ring. Josiah rolled his eyes the moment our tablets connected, in a brief relief before scrunching his face up in frustration.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” he asked incredulously and in a tone that made me nervous. Despite our relationship, the Stonewells maintained an authoritative hold over me. I still cringed, knowing I’d done wrong, even miles away in a completely different province.
“I-I needed space,” I answered cautiously.
“I’ve been going mad not talking to you,” he said helplessly.
I observed him openly and felt my heart break at his disheveled appearance. Josiah, indeed, appeared to be distraught. His hair stood up as though he had spent the past four days running his hand aggressively through it.
“Please tell me you're alright. Tell me you miss me. Tell me anything; I just need to hear your voice and pretend you're in this room with me. That I’ll wake up from this nightmare.” He threw his head down on his arms and shook violently. This new, vulnerable side of Josiah was shocking.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I miss you, too . . . so much, Josiah.” The truth of my words rang through me, but something nagged my conscious. I would never admit it, but when I was with the others, I didn’t miss Josiah as much. That realization was both a relief and a terror. “I keep thinking about our kiss,” I added. I’m not sure what compelled me to tell Josiah that, but it was true. Late at night, I still remembered how he crushed himself to me.
“Me, too,” Josiah admitted. He licked his lips slowly, and the familiar flutter in my stomach tickled my heart and made my breathing grow shallow.
We continued to chat until dinner time. I was reluctant to let Josiah go. It was a side of him that made me nervous and regretful. Did I make the right decision in coming here? Would he have changed? Could we have had a life together? He wouldn’t let me hang up without promising to call again, tomorrow.
After the call ended, I changed into one of my more modest dresses from back in Galla. Although the new summer dresses that filled my closet were surprisingly comfortable, I needed to cling to something from my old life; something to remind myself why I was here and what my purpose was.
Dinner was a joyful affair, everyone spoke cheerfully to one another, and occasionally, someone would include me in the conversation. However, I remained polite and distant, sometimes throwing Huxley a glare.
“I’m sad that you left before I could say goodbye, today!” Patrick complained. “Thanks again for lunch,” he said.
“Wait, you brought him lunch?!” Jacob said in mock protest. His wide grin suggested that he simply enjoyed pestering me.
“I’ll be sure to bring your lunch, tomorrow,” I cooed.
“Well, how come he gets lunch brought to him? When is my turn?” Cyler asked. The memory of grinding against him while dancing, flashed in my mind, and a healthy blush flared across my face.
“Ah, whenever you’d like,” I replied while coughing away my lustful thoughts.
“In that case, I’d like a three-course meal with chocolate cake for the dessert.” Cyler’s demands made me smile.
“I said whenever, not whatever,” I scolded him with a cheeky grin. The others laughed and continued to eat the seared, deer meat and veggies I’d prepared for them.
Kemper kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something but would immediately shut it.
“Is there something you want to say, Kemp?” I asked. A sweet and innocent blush covered him, and I found myself wanting to hug him. I shook my head at myself, willing those emotions to go away. I welcomed my familiar chant that kept me away from Josiah during times of weakness.
Not yours. Not yours. Not yours.
“Oh, uhm. I–” he started then coughed. “I . . . uh, was wonderi
ng if you could bring me lunch one day? There is an apple orchard, near my work building, I think you’d like.” His words seemed rushed and unsure.
“I’d love that, Kemp,” I replied.
“Well, I might as well request lunch, also,” Maverick joined in.
My eyes flashed to his. He looked calm, and memories of our intimate time in the clinic flooded me. I wanted to spend time with him, but I wasn’t sure I could face the clinic just yet. I still felt too raw from my experience there.
Maverick sensed my unease and quickly recovered. “Oh! But, since the clinic is so close to here, how about I come home for lunch?”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, that would be lovely.” Once again, I found myself feeling thankful for Maverick’s perceptiveness.
The rest of the dinner, they spent arguing over what they wanted to eat. I excused myself back to my room and politely declined their offer to participate in game night.
The next day, I spent the early morning in my room while they ate muffins I’d prepared ahead of time. Once everyone left, I started cleaning their home, similarly to what I did in the Stonewell Household. I mopped and scrubbed their floors, bleached the bathrooms, and washed their sheets. It took the entirety of my morning and almost left me running late for lunch with Jacob.
It was important to me that I earned my place here. Cyler promised that everyone earned their keep in the Dormas province, and he wasn’t kidding. Every non-disabled person contributed to the running of this town. Children collected water from the well first thing in the morning. Even the few elderly we had, baked or knitted clothes. It was a small, but a beautifully functioning town.
Jacob worked at the train station, handling the imports and exports of supplies. He had a small team of men that dealt with the transactions and ensured that no one was entering Dormas without permission.
The station was a good hour-long walk away from the house, so I lightly jogged to be there on time. When I arrived, Jacob was shirtless and lifting large boxes onto the train. His defined chest and deep-set abs made my mouth water. Beads of sweat dripped down his caramel stomach with each movement. He was muscular in ways that made my head spin.
Before I could gather myself, Jacob caught me staring at his swift, sharp movements. I was rewarded with one of his mouth-watering smiles.
“Hey, Ash. Like what you see?” he asked, playfully.
I decided that placing more distance between us was necessary. “No. I was just concerned that you aren’t drinking enough water. Come here and eat your lunch.”
Jacob jumped off the train in one swoop and jogged over to where I was standing. He grabbed the basket full of food from my hands and laughed. “Your hair is extra wild today.”
He’d noticed. My unruly curls seemed to grow more prominent in the Dormas humidity, and my jog to the train station didn’t help things.
His comment made me feel self-conscious, and I placed my hand on top of my hair. Once he had the basket, I nodded my head and began walking back to the house.
“Where are you going?” he called after me.
I turned slightly with a fake smile. “Back to the manor. I have more chores to complete before everyone gets back home.”
He chased after me. “What’s got you so distant, lately?” he asked.
I sighed and turned to greet him fully. “I don’t mean to be distant. I’m . . . I’m just still trying to find my place here.” I shrugged.
“Well, let me simplify things for you,” he began while gripping my soft hand. “Right now, your place is beside me while we enjoy lunch together.”
I smiled at his comment, and we both walked over to the train station where he had his office. Once inside, he pulled up a crate to his mahogany desk for me to sit on. We then began eating the honey-lemon chicken I made.
“What is your absolute favorite thing to do?” Jacob asked before taking a large gulp of water. I considered his question for a moment then answered.
“I love to paint. To sketch.”
Jacob looked at me curiously; it seemed that my answer caught him off guard.
“Well, that would explain the new shipment I received today. Cyler ordered a ton of art supplies.” Jacob licked his fingers of the lemony syrup from the chicken, then stood.
After motioning for me to follow, Jacob and I made our way over to the small warehouse where all inventory was taken and organized for distribution around the town. After rummaging through a few boxes, he cracked open a crate and removed the grass packaging. I peered over his shoulder and was shocked to find a seemingly endless supply of sketching materials, canvases, and paintbrushes. I gasped at the high quality of the supplies.
My heart warmed instantly towards Cyler. Despite his gruff exterior, he was perceptive and thoughtful.
Jacob was a sweaty mess, but I embraced him tightly. His thick arms wrapped around me, pulling us closer. I rested my cheek against his bare chest and reveled in the close contact.
After a few moments, I released my hold on him and backed away. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I didn’t mean to . . . uh . . .” I tried explaining, but my words fell short.
“You don’t have to explain yourself,” he said.
But I wanted to explain myself. I needed to tell him why I was so eager for contact.
"My parents passed when I was three. I guess my childhood lacked affection. Aside from Josiah . . . Master Stonewell, no one showed me any kindness. And now I’m here, surrounded by freedom and respect. I’m just not sure what to do. I don’t know who I am,” I admitted quietly. The truth of it rang through the warehouse, and shame filled me.
Jacob looked at me. I expected to find pity in his chocolate eyes. Instead, he peered at me with a look of awe.
"You are a survivor. An artist. A giving, selfless, beautiful woman with a big heart,” Jacob said.
We both stood in silence for a moment. The tension between us was palpable. Suffocating. How could I still feel so much love for Josiah, but be inexplicably drawn to Jacob?
Jacob allowed me to take a sketchbook and some pencils home, saying he would bring the rest in the community transport tonight, since it was too much to carry.
I took a leisurely pace back to the Black Home. I spent each moment observing the Dormas community and scouting out images that caught my eye and demanded I sketch them. In taking my time, I was able to see the real beauty of what they’d built in this town. People were playful, happy, and genuine. The shops were dusty, yet full of life and promise. Men nodded at me with broad smiles as I walked.
Once I got to the end of the street where the Black home sat, I decided to sit beneath a large tree and sketch the town. I drew a long road with buildings on either side, and I captured the dust that blew around with each passerby. I felt relaxed and completely at ease for the first time since leaving the Stonewells. Occasionally, my mind drifted back to thoughts of Josiah while I drew.
He would sometimes bring me art supplies. I hid them under my mattress in the storage room, away from Mistress Stonewell. She didn’t approve of me cultivating any skills outside of what benefited her home.
Late at night, Josiah would sneak into my room, and I spent hours quietly drawing his robust and symmetrical face. After years of companionship, I had each feature ingrained in my memory, and as if my muscles acted upon what they were accustomed to, I flipped the page and began sketching his face.
However, instead of the usually polished and clean-shaven Josiah that I grew up with, I drew the Josiah I saw on my tablet a few days ago. The Josiah that was heartbroken and suffering.
His eyes were haunting and made my stomach clench, but I needed to draw this. I needed to see that he did, in fact, love me. That without me, he was struggling to exist. It made me feel equal parts compelling and guilty. It also made me question why I was playing with the idea that I felt anything for Jacob or any of the others. Realistically, they were a small candle in comparison to the lighthouse that was Josiah. He shone bright. He illuminated me in ways that n
o one else ever could.
The sun began to set, and still I drew. I wasn’t happy until the picture was complete. I wanted to cling to what it was we shared. I tried to hold on to the fact that Josiah Stonewell did, in fact, love me.
As the sun set, the guys each walked up to the house. They were cheerful and giddy. Each was playfully goading one another about their day. The moment I saw Cyler, I stood and ran to him, ignoring the scowl Huxley threw my way.
Once in front of Cyler, I looked up into his playful eyes and enveloped him in the most significant hug I could muster.
“Thank you for my art supplies,” I whispered in his ear. He was sweaty from a long day of working, but I didn’t care. His thoughtful purchase meant so much more to me than he could ever truly understand. He had given me back a part of myself that I’d lost.
He spun me around, which gathered cheers from the others. The sensation made me laugh. “You’re welcome, babe. It’s the least I could do since you nursed me back to health.” I rolled my eyes while he put me back down. While doing so, he slid me against his muscular body, causing those familiar flutters to invade my stomach.
Huxley was looking over my sketch when my feet hit the ground. I rushed over to him to rip it out of his hands, but he was too quick and tall.
“What do we have here?” he asked. “Does our little artist have a muse?” He waved my notebook side-to-side, and my insistence to retrieve the drawing of Josiah back spurred on the others to see who it was I intently drew.
“Let us see, Huxley!” Patrick pleaded. But instead of handing it over to him, Huxley peered at me with a newfound understanding. After taking a second glance, he handed it back to me and abruptly walked back inside. Maybe now he understood why I wouldn’t betray his makeshift family as Jules did. I was still irrevocably in love with someone I could never have.
