Wind Over Marshdale

by Tracy Krauss

  Rachel slipped her feet into the boots. They were a little big, but they would do. Betty entered the porch. She was wearing similar footwear. “I’m late getting the potatoes dug this year,” she puffed. “My own fault.”

  “These boots okay?” Con gestured to Rachel’s feet.

  “Of course. Bonita and I have the same size so I’m not even sure who they belong to,” Betty said. “Maybe you’ll come over for dessert later. After your tour and what not. Lisa’s been dying to see you since she found out you were coming over.” She looked over at Con. “That is, if that isn’t spoiling your plans.”

  “That would be lovely,” Rachel cut in. She smiled at Betty. She couldn’t tell by Con’s expression whether he was in favor of the idea or not, which in turn could be a compliment.

  Con was silent for a moment before clearing his throat. “Sure. I need to get these parts over to Shelley now.” Rachel followed him back outside, her feet sloshing a bit in the boots. They climbed back into the truck. “He's been doing some custom work with the combine and had a break down,” Con explained. “After I drop these off I’ll give you the tour.”

  Rachel nodded. “Whatever. You’re the tour guide.”

  He parked his truck in front of his own house and Rachel was quick to open her own door and jump to the ground. She waited while he retrieved a small cardboard box from the back of the pickup. They trudged in the direction of one of the large buildings. Inside the quonset they found a smaller man examining the workings of a large, self-propelled combine. “Brought those parts you needed,” Con said, setting the box down on a nearby work bench.

  Bill Shelley, the hired man, looked up and nodded. “Thanks,” he responded in a gravelly voice. He looked to be in his mid to late fifties with a leathery face and straggling gray hair worn in an unkempt ponytail. A grease-stained ball cap was pulled down low over his eyes.

  “This is Rachel Bosworth.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Shelley acknowledged. “I’d shake your hand, but mine are kind of greasy.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  “See you later, Shelley,” Con called as he turned. He placed one of his hands on the small of Rachel’s back, guiding her forward out of the building. The warmth of it went right through her jacket. “Next stop, the barn,” he informed.

  They trudged a few paces toward the large red barn and Con had to stop to unlatch a gate. Rachel crinkled her nose instinctively as the distinct odor of manure reached out in full force. “Where are all the animals?” she asked, looking around.

  “We don’t keep a lot of livestock anymore,” Con explained. “Tyson and Bonita used to be into Four H, but we’ve gotten out of the cattle business except for our own use. The few cattle we do have are still out to pasture, but we’ll be bringing them in soon. Watch your step, though.”

  “So what are we doing in here?’ Rachel asked as they entered the dimly lit interior.

  “You’ll see.” Con led her into a corner piled with fresh straw, and knelt down to rustle into its depths. “There you are,” he said softly as he pulled out a tiny, mewing creature.

  “Oh! How adorable,” Rachel exclaimed, taking the black and white kitten from Con’s hands.

  “Furrball’s been at it again,” he mused.

  “Furrball?”

  “The barn cat,” Con explained.

  “You mean you leave your cat out in the barn?”

  “Sure. It’s a farm, and she’s a farm cat. She helps keep the rodent population down. Cats are very resourceful. And independent.”

  “Oh, you’re so sweet.” Rachel mewed back at the kitten. The mother cat, with fluffy white and grey fur, had emerged from the straw and was meowing her displeasure.

  “She’s still a bit protective,” Con noted.

  Rachel set the tiny kitten back down beside its mother. “What are you going to do with them?”

  Con shrugged. “Give some away. The rest will take their place on the farm, I suppose. They don’t all survive.”

  “Hmm. I wonder if Mrs. Beatry has any objection to pets.”

  “Come on. There’s something else, I’d like to show you,” Con said, grabbing Rachel’s hand.

  The contact, at least on Con’s part anyway, seemed natural and inconsequential. To Rachel it re-knotted the tension in the pit of her stomach that had finally been dissipating. Her breath felt short and knees felt weak and she was sure that Con would be able to sense the effect his nearness was having on her.

  Back outside, Con led the way to a fenced-in corral. A teenage girl was riding a large grey mare in circles around its perimeter. “Bonita!” Con called as he waved her over. The horse and girl trotted over to where Con and Rachel stood on the other side of the fence.

  “Rachel, this is my niece Bonita,” he introduced. “And this is Shadow,” he continued, his voice taking on a different pitch as he rubbed the horse’s neck.

  “Hi,” the girl offered, keeping the horse reined in tight as she pranced on the spot. Shadow dipped her head over the railing, leaning into Con’s ministrations.

  “Nice to meet, you,” Rachel offered, smiling. “Lisa’s talked about you, but it’s nice to put a face to the name.”

  “I’ll just bet she has.” Bonita rolled her eyes.

  “It’s all been good,” Rachel clarified. “She really looks up to you.”

  “Hmph.” Bonita didn’t seem convinced.

  “Can I pet him?” Rachel asked.

  “Her,” Bonita corrected. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Rachel climbed up onto the first rung of the fence and reached a tentative hand out to touch the huge beast. She’d never really been around animals, and she felt the thrill of fear touching her stomach as the horse made contact with her hand.

  “She won’t hurt you,” Con smiled. “She’s a big sucker for attention, aren’t you, Shadow?”

  “Hey Con!” The sudden hail from the quonset made everyone turn toward Bill Shelley, who was standing just outside its open garage doors. “Can I get a hand just for a second? It’ll just take a minute.”

  “Sure,” Con called back. He looked at Rachel. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He flashed her a smile and Rachel watched as he loped toward Shelley. As if she had anywhere else to go.

  Rachel turned back toward the horse, a smile touching the corners of her mouth.

  “You better not say anything,” Bonita said, her voice no more than a threatening whisper.

  “Pardon?” Rachel asked in confusion. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Who else?”

  “Oh.” She looked around, her eyes finally coming back to meet Bonita’s hostile ones. “I guess. What are you talking about?”

  “Last night. At the theater in Silver Creek,” Bonita explained. “I saw you there with some other guy. If you tell Uncle Con or anyone else that I was there, I’ll tell him.”

  Rachel’s blood froze. She blinked, not quite sure how to react. Bonita had been at the theater? She’d noticed some teens from Marshdale, but most of them she didn’t know anyway. “I didn’t actually notice,” she finally said, flipping her hair off her shoulders in an attempt to seem unfazed.

  This seemed to stop Bonita for a moment, obviously considering the fact that she’d just told on herself for nothing. “Well, anyway, he wouldn’t like to know that you were out with another guy. That native kid’s dad, right?”

  Rachel didn’t have time to reply. Con was already heading back in their direction.

  “Our little secret,” Bonita said under her breath.

  “Miss me?” Con quipped.

  “Tons.” Rachel laughed, perhaps a little too brightly. “What’s next on the tour? Food, I hope. I’m starving. You did promise me a home-cooked meal, right?”

  “Yes indeed.” Con took her hand as she jumped down from the railing, letting go after a few steps toward the house. His hand felt warm and rough and she liked the way hers fit so completely into his larger one. Too bad they weren’t at the stage where they
could hold hands all the time.

  It was warm inside the house and Con took Rachel’s jacket as she slid it off her shoulders and hung it on a hook at the back door. He ushered her into the kitchen. There were delicious smells coming from somewhere and she inhaled deeply. “Mmm. Smells good, whatever it is.”

  “Hope you like lasagna,” Con replied. “My repertoire isn’t that great, but I do make a mean lasagna.”

  “Love it.” Rachel smiled, glancing around the room. “This is nice. There are lots of cupboards.”

  “Excuse the mess,” he apologized. Some dirty dishes were sitting on the counter beside the sink. “I had to leave early to get to town in time and didn’t quite finish cleaning up.”

  “It’s fine,” Rachel assured him. “Very clean for a bachelor pad, I’d say.” It was true. Besides the few dishes, there really wasn’t much mess to speak of.

  “So that was the kitchen, obviously,” Con explained as they moved along, “and then we move into the hall. Off that are the dining room and the living room. You know these old houses. Lots of little rooms, but none of them too large. I’ve been thinking about renovating. Maybe knock out a wall or two.”

  “I love it just like it is,” Rachel declared.

  “Yeah?” Con asked. “I suppose it could use some redecorating. I haven’t really done much since I took it over. It’s probably kind of outdated.”

  “Quit apologizing,” Rachel said. “It’s lovely. It’s not often you’ll find a house in its original condition.”

  Con’s house was full of all the original oak trim, including a fireplace in the living room that had a large beveled glass mirror above it. The floors were also oak, as was the banister and staircase leading to the upstairs. The only thing that took away from the antique feeling was the large stereo and entertainment centre in the living room.

  “This is a beautiful piece of furniture,” Rachel observed, running her hands over the keys of a perfectly polished upright piano.

  “It was Grandma Minnie’s. The one thing she left me personally when she went into the home.”

  “Oh, how nice,” Rachel said, sitting down at the keyboard. Con sat down, close beside her, and played a few chords.

  “It’s one item that almost got shipped back to Ontario when Grandpa died.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “The infamous Aunt Stephanie and Aunt May,” Con answered dryly, doing a run on the keys.

  Rachel could sense the tension in Con’s simple remark. “Um, okay.”

  Con looked over at her. “Oh right. You’re new here and never heard about Aunt May and Stephanie. I’m surprised Mrs. Beatry didn’t fill you in.”

  “Sounds like they’re legendary.”

  “Believe me, they are.”

  “So? You gonna fill me in?”

  “Hm. Maybe I’ll just let Mrs. Beatry do it. She’s sure to make it so much more entertaining.”

  “Con!” She gave him a playful swat. “You can’t do that!”

  “Sure I can.” He grinned. “I just don’t want to spoil our time together talking about my sinister old aunts. Let’s just say, last time they came for a visit, which is about ten years ago, now, they came armed with legal documents.”

  “Legal documents?” Rachel asked, frowning.

  “It seems they still feel entitled to part of Grandad’s inheritance.” Con explained.

  “Oh. And I thought my family was screwed up.” Rachel wrinkled her nose.

  “I warned you. Anyway, forget them. I will take you to meet Grandma Minnie one day soon, though. I think she’ll like you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Come on. I’ll show you the rest,” he said, rising from the piano bench.

  This time, when he took her hand, he didn’t let go. The wooden staircase creaked in places as they ascended. One turn at the landing and they were in the upper half of the house.

  “My! This is spacious.” “Yep. Four bedrooms in total, and of course, the only bathroom. It’s one of those things I don’t like about the old place. You have to climb the stairs every time you need to go.”

  “Good exercise, I suppose,” Rachel mused.

  Con laughed. “I guess it beats an outhouse. I really need to upgrade the fixtures, though. The pipes rattle and squeak. If you were the nervous sort, you’d think the place was haunted.”

  Con had let go of her hand, so Rachel peeked into three of the bedrooms. Two were almost empty except for a few boxes, and another had an old metal framed bed, a dresser and a wooden armoire. He seemed somewhat shy about opening the door to the last room, which was closed. “Not sure I made my bed this morning,” he said.

  “You’re not going to let me see what’s behind door number four?”

  Con’s gaze caught and held hers for a moment—an unreadable message contained within. He reached for the knob and swung the door wide.

  In fact, the bed was made, its dark brown and grey comforter tucked up neatly over the pillows. It was a large room, with two long windows which flanked a door leading out to a small balcony. It exuded masculinity—Con’s masculinity, and suddenly Rachel could feel her heart hammering in her chest.

  If he kissed her now, she would give in to him with complete and utter abandon.

  “I’d better go check on supper,” Con said, his voice sounding tight. “Go ahead and wash up. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Rachel nodded. She realized she’d been holding her breath.

  After using the facilities, she went back downstairs. Con had already set the dining room table, complete with napkins and a candle. The atmosphere was cozy and romantic. Just the kind of thing that could lead to other things.

  “Mademoiselle?” Con gestured to her chair. She sat down as he helped push it back in.

  “This is so nice,” Rachel said. “You’re spoiling me.”

  “No trouble,” Con replied. “Wine?” he asked, holding up a bottle.

  She nodded. “Yes please.”

  He proceeded to pour each of them a glass and then served up the lasagna along with a salad on the side and some garlic toast.

  “It seems to be getting chilly out,” Rachel offered.

  “Winter’s coming soon.” Talking about the weather seemed safe. The sexual tension that had sprung up between them needed a generic topic to diffuse some of the heat.

  ****

  Initially, Betty’s suggestion that they join the family for dessert annoyed Con. Now he was grateful for the reprieve. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be alone with Rachel Bosworth. Completely the opposite.

  He wanted to be alone with her all right. That was the problem. His reaction to her in the physical sense came as a surprise. It wasn’t like she was the first beautiful woman he’d been in contact with in his life. And she wasn’t the first one he’d felt attraction for either. But it was the strength of it that caught him off guard.

  Especially since he had prayed about it beforehand. The truth was, he wasn’t completely innocent. He’d had his share of encounters as a young male, despite his upbringing. But once he’d rededicated his life to God that was an area of his life that he guarded very carefully. He knew all too well the temptations that could get the better of a man and he had made a decision that he would no longer partake of said pleasures until he walked down the aisle once and for all with his bride on his arm.

  Which was why the present circumstances were such a dilemma. He knew better. So why was he testing his own resolve so carelessly? Taunting himself with his own weakness, seeing just how far he could stretch the limits without letting go completely.

  “Ready to go for a little walk?” Con suggested.

  “Don’t you want to clean up first?” Rachel asked. “I’ll help.”

  “You don’t have to,” Con said. “I’ll do it later.”

  “Don’t be silly. We’ll be done in a few minutes.”

  They carried several loads to the kitchen and Con started filling the dishwasher as Rachel rinsed the dishes under the tap
first. It was all so very domestic and Con couldn’t help thinking how Rachel looked so right in his kitchen, working alongside him.

  “What are you smiling about?” Rachel asked.

  Con blinked and shook his head. “Just some private thoughts.”

  “Oh really?”

  He nodded. “I was just thinking how you seem to fit in, here in my kitchen.”

  “Are you implying that my place is in the kitchen doing the dishes?” Rachel teased.

  He laughed. “Not exactly what I meant. But that works, too.”

  “Then what did you mean?” Her look was coy. Enticing. Daring him to say what he was really thinking.

  He sobered, searching her eyes with his own. “Just what I said. You look good here. In my house.”

  The air was thick with it again. The tension. A palpable anticipation of what could be.

  Con cleared his throat. “I guess we better get over to Ivor’s. Lisa will be anxious to see you.”

  “Right.”

  Rachel dried her hands and they headed to the porch.

  “I suppose we should take those boots back, too.” He took her jacket down off the hook and held it up while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. The scent of her hair as he stood behind her was heavy. He could very easily slip his arms around her, gather her close and just inhale her.

  The cool darkness of the evening was welcome. They walked several steps, their feet crunching on the graveled path between the houses.

  When they reached Ivor’s door, they stopped and Con rapped twice before just entering. “Hello!”

  “Come in, come in!” Betty called from the depths of the interior. ”I was going to call you. I just warmed up some pie. You’re just in time.”

  Lisa appeared around the corner just as Rachel was slipping off her shoes. “Hello, Lisa.”

  The little girl was smiling shyly. “Hi teacher,” she said.

  “How’s my Mona Lisa this evening?” Con asked.

  “Fine,” Lisa nodded, looking down at her feet as she swung one leg back and forth. She turned abruptly and fled.