I continued walking, trying to assess the damage. Some trees were certainly worse off than others. Some only had a portion of their leaves shriveled and burned, while others looked black and skeletal. I knew right away that some would recover without difficulty, but only some, and I didn’t know how long it would take.
It was past noon when I finished my wanderings, and as I reached the edge of the orchard and made my way toward the house, I found Gavin standing in the middle of the yard, waiting for me, his face slack, his eyes unbelieving.
I took a shuddering breath and trudged over to him, burying my face in his chest. “My trees,” I cried into his shirt.
Gavin stayed into the evening, helping me and Papa determine what needed to be done and what our options were. He offered to stay the night and help me the next day as well, but I insisted he go home. Ella would be waiting for him. So he left with the promise that he would return in a couple of days.
The next morning, I didn’t go out to the orchard. Instead I tried to help my mother, to be useful, but soon realized that I was only interrupting her rhythm. Not only that, but she was wound so tightly that being around her only made me feel worse.
Instead I took myself out to the barn, but that was just as bad. All the hay that had been in the barn was gone. Much of the feed and tools were destroyed, and I worried that the roof was damaged so badly that it would fall in. I sucked down my frustration and went to check on the few sheep that grazed behind the house. That was Fynn’s responsibility, but he was occupied trying to figure out how to rebuild the damaged portions of the barn. Plus, I needed work. I needed exertion and distraction. And since I could not bring myself to go back into the orchard, I remained in our little yard, eventually tackling the garden. I gathered up the ripe vegetables, knowing they were some of the last. In a week or so, the garden would need to be turned under.
I had worked myself into an exhausted numbness and didn’t pay much attention to the sound of someone approaching until he spoke.
“Kinley.”
I paused in the middle of dropping carrots into the basket at my side. Rylan’s voice was quiet, full of shock and pity. I didn’t turn toward him. I felt blessedly empty at the moment and had no desire to unleash the mound of emotions waiting to break free.
“What happened?”
I stuck out my bottom lip and blew a puff of wind up to my forehead, ruffling the wisps of hair there. Then I went back to pulling up carrots as I spoke. “You remember Mr. Tanner? The man who accused you of stealing his chickens?”
“Of course. How could I forget?”
“He’s never done anything dangerous before. But two nights ago—” I swallowed. “His delusions got the better of him. He was chasing some imagined threat through our orchard with two torches in hand.” My voice broke.
“Oh, Kinley.”
I yanked another carrot from the ground with a vicious tug. “Honestly, it might not have been him at all. It was the night of the storm, so it may very well have been a strike of lightning. Maybe it was both. I don’t know. No one knows, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Either way it was an accident.” I stabbed at the earth with my trowel. “A horrible, devastating accident.”
He crouched down beside me, his hand resting on my lower back. “I’m sorry. I know how much that orchard means to you.”
It did mean a lot to me. It meant a bit of independence. It meant moments stolen with Rylan and sitting under a tree to read every Monday morning. Still, I shook my head, trying to shake away the emotion. “It isn’t only that. Part of the barn burned. We lost hay, feed, tools. We’ll have to find a way to repair or rebuild it. Plus, we need the money the orchard generates. If it’s going to produce the way we need it to, then we’ll need resources to pull out the dead trees and replace them with new ones. Without that income, we’ll have to rethink our options. Neither of my parents will actually say it, but they are both very worried.”
He sat on the ground beside me. “If your father had more help, would he have enough business to increase his income?”
I looked over at him, a watery smile escaping me, and rolled off my knees to sit as well. How very like Rylan to immediately come up with a solution. I was grateful he hadn’t tried to help by offering money. Still, I shook my head. “There’s never really been an excess of opportunities for him.”
“Maybe there is something that I could do to—”
“Don’t,” I said with a sharp shake of my head, then tried to soften my rebuke with a smile. “This isn’t something that you can fix.”
His face fell. “But I want to help.”
“You’re here. That helps.”
I could see that he wanted to press his point, but he held his tongue. He propped his elbows on his knees and studied the ground.
“Was there a reason you came?” I asked.
“Yes, but it hardly matters now.”
I studied the ground as well, dragging a finger through the dirt in a swirl design. “You didn’t come to market.” I tried to make it sound casual, off-hand, but instead it sounded meek and unsure. My own vulnerability tore at my ears.
He brought his gaze up, his eyes worried. “I’m sorry. That’s actually what I came to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “My father is quite determined to keep me busy lately.”
My brow furrowed. Was that all? If it was simply his father that kept him away, then why did he seem so nervous? “Why is that?”
He opened his mouth, but then stopped and gave a shrug, dropping his eyes again. “Most of the time, it’s better if I don’t ask.”
That wasn’t what he had been about to say. I was almost sure of it. “Rylan . . . you’re acting odd.”
He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I know. I’m sorry.” He dropped his hands and looked at me, his jaw pinching with determination. “Listen. I know this is going to sound strange, but just—”
“Kin!” Fynn’s voice hollering from inside the house propelled me into action. I jumped up and tried to pull Rylan to his feet.
“Hide!” I hissed, pushing him toward the side of the house. He stumbled, since I hadn’t given him quite enough time to gain his footing. Then I spun around and hurried to the back door, arriving there just as Fynn was about to step outside. I braced my hands on the doorframe, blocking his way. “Yes?” I asked.
He looked down at me, one eyebrow raised, as if he were looking at someone who was more than a little bit crazy. I held my ground, looking up at him and waiting for an answer.
“Remarkable,” he finally said. “You don’t usually come running when I call. What’s the secret?”
“I didn’t come running. I was already on my way in. Was there something you needed?”
Normally he would have continued to poke and prod and make fun, but everyone had been treating me as though I were suddenly breakable. Maybe I was. Instead of teasing, he simply nodded toward the table. “Mama says lunch is on.”
“Fine. I’ll wash up.” I held up my dirt-covered hands as if I needed to offer him some sort of evidence that washing up was really necessary.
He looked at me askance and went inside.
I hurried in the direction I had pushed Rylan, hoping he hadn’t left. Luckily the rain barrel was on that side of the house, and when I rounded the corner, Rylan was there waiting for me.
“Have you taken care of the assassins, then?” he asked before leaning to the side as if to get a view of the bodies.
I smiled. “Sorry about that. I panicked.”
“You could have fooled me. I thought you were as calm as anything.” His feigned seriousness was impressive.
I just shook my head, but my smile stayed in place as I stuck my hands in the water and tried to scrub the dirt from them.
He came to lean against the wall, waiting silently until my hands were free of dirt. “So aside from lunching, what else will you be doing today?” He dipped hi
s fingers in the water and flicked them at my face.
I raised a brow at his foolishness, then cupped both of my hands in the water and threw it at him. He tried to jump away but wasn’t quick enough, and the water splashed down his front. He bent forward, shaking the water from his clothes and face. “I should have known better.”
“Yes, you should have.” I chuckled, shaking the water from my hands before drying them on my apron. “I’d best go in.”
He nodded, glancing toward the house. I wondered if he wanted to go in. To meet my family. To see what my home looked like. To eat—if he were anything like my brothers, that would be the reason.
I certainly couldn’t introduce him, but if it was food he wanted . . . “Would you like me to sneak some food out to you?”
“No. I’ll manage.”
“Are you sure? We could meet out in the orchard and have—” No. No, we couldn’t. I hadn’t realized just how much he had helped me forget my worries until that moment when they all came rushing back. I closed my eyes and sighed.
After a small silence, he murmured, “Everything will work out.”
Funny how his comment made me even more sad. I looked at him, fighting the frown that pulled at the corners of my mouth. “You don’t know that.”
He stepped closer, pulling on one of my curls. “Yes, I do. I can be stubborn, too.”
I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his shoulder and breathing him in. He slid a hand to the back of my neck, and we stood there in beautiful silence for several moments until I forced myself to pull away. “Good day, Rylan.”
“Good day.” He grabbed my hand and kissed it, then let me go.
✼ ✼ ✼
Gavin showed up the next day as promised. I had spent the morning pulling apples from the trees, removing as much fruit as possible to prevent animals and insects from causing problems, as well as taking the strain off the branches that needed their strength for regrowth. I headed back for lunch and noticed Gavin’s horse tied up with the other animals. Reaching the back door, I heard Papa and Gavin talking and stopped outside to shamelessly eavesdrop on the conversation.
“Please let me help,” Gavin insisted.
“Son. I know you’re willing. I know you could give us anything you wanted. But we’re going to be fine.” I peeked in the window to see my father with his hand resting on Gavin’s shoulder. “If we were in dire straits and I couldn’t put food on the table, I’d ask for your help. I’m not too proud for that. But it’s not dire.” He moved his hand and stood up as tall as he could while resting on his cane. “It’s a setback; I won’t deny it. But we’ve come back from worse. And we’ve been better for it.”
“At least have Kinley come stay with us. We could give her little tasks to do if she felt the need to contribute.”
“Do you really think you could treat your sister as a servant?”
“That’s not—”
“I know that’s not what you meant, but I think it would make things worse, not better.” He was right about that.
“There are still trees that weren’t affected,” Gavin argued, but it was without much conviction.
Papa shook his head. “Not enough. The ones that were burned should come back next year, maybe the year after, but we don’t have the luxury of waiting on them. We have to focus on keeping the rest of the land profitable. We’ve got the sheep, which will help, but we can’t risk Lord Hayworth leasing the land to someone else.”
“And what if you can’t make the payments?” Gavin’s voice was low, like he didn’t want to say the words but felt he had to.
“We’ll have to hope he’ll only take the orchard and allow us to stay on the rest of the land.”
I couldn’t stay out of it anymore. I pushed through the back door, ready to fight for what was mine. “You can’t let him take my trees.”
Papa let out a deep sigh. “Kinley, sweetie, I don’t want to. But if we can’t pay . . .”
“Then I’ll go into service. I’ve done it before.”
“You wouldn’t like working for your brother.”
“I won’t work for him; I’ll work for someone else. I’ll make up the lost money that way. I’ll help with the payments. I need to work somehow. It might as well be like this.” I crossed my arm and lifted my chin. If there was ever a time to be stubborn, it was now. “I’d much rather be in service for a year or two than give up on my orchard. You said yourself they should be fine.”
“We hope they’ll be fine.”
“And if they’re not, we’ll figure out something else. And in the meantime, I can try to make enough money to buy new ones in case some of them don’t recover. But for right now, I can make up the money by working for someone else.”
He sighed again, his face lined with worry and sadness. “It wouldn’t be like last time. We couldn’t spare Fynn each morning and evening to drive you somewhere.”
“They have servants’ quarters for a reason, Papa. Hopefully I’ll find work close enough that I can walk home on my days off.”
“You shouldn’t have to be a servant again,” Gavin said, guilt marring his features. I knew how much he still blamed himself for when I’d had to work for the Baylors before, but that didn’t change anything.
“Being a servant is a perfectly respectable occupation. And if it will help me keep the orchard, then I’m going to do it.”
He nodded, resigned.
I turned back to my father. “Please?”
Papa gave a long sigh. “It’s your decision, but I’m sorry you have to make it.”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
He nodded, then tipped his head toward the kitchen. “I believe your mother has something for you to eat.”
I nodded and turned toward the back of the house.
“After you’ve eaten,” Gavin called after me, “I’ll help you in the orchard—with whatever you need.”
I managed a little smile. “We’ll see if you can still work hard,” I teased.
He rolled his eyes. “My life now is not so pampered as you might like to think.”
“Good.”
When we returned to the orchard after lunch, I took hold of a limb that was severely burned. “Do you think we should cut these out?”
“Maybe, but not now. Anything like that will have to wait until we see the kind of new growth that comes in.”
I nodded, and we set to work. We found the few trees that had not been burned and harvested their ripe fruit. It was a little like having Rylan work with me, except that Gavin not only knew what he was doing, he was also fast and efficient from years of practice. In the next few days, I would need to gather as many overripe and fallen apples as I could for making sauce. I had to get as much money out of the remaining fruit as possible, despite the fact that it wouldn’t be nearly enough.
I started inquiring into jobs the very next day. When I wasn’t looking for work, I was doing my best to rid the orchard of all its fruit. Gavin came, every day, to help me. He didn’t chatter or tease or try to make me feel better. He simply did the work, which was exactly what I needed.
Chapter Thirteen
I WAS HIRED as a parlormaid for Lord and Lady Mantock. They were not particularly well known, but I was acquainted with a few of their kitchen staff, who regularly bought fruit from my stand at market. I suspected that it was the staff’s recommendation that had afforded me this opportunity, and for that I was in their debt.
I packed a few belongings and told my parents goodbye. My mother put on a brave face, but my father’s expression was heavy with regret, almost defeated. I smiled and kissed his cheek, determined not to let him see precisely how much I dreaded this endeavor.
The wagon seat seemed extra hard when I climbed up beside Fynn. He set Herman into motion and I lifted my hand in a final goodbye to my parents. Once we had turned onto the road, I let out a sigh.
“You don’t have to do this,” Fynn said in a low voice.
“Let it go. I’m not
changing my mind.” My family had spent the past week trying to talk me out of my decision.
“Stubborn,” he muttered.
I turned on him. “And what would you have me do, Fynn? Laze about while you and father try to rebuild the barn and scrape by without the money from the orchard?”
“You wouldn’t laze about. You would help with the animals and the garden and all the rest of the land.”
“And what money will we use to repair the barn? Or replace the hay?”
“We’ll get by.”
“For how long until we can’t pay Lord Hayworth? We need income now.”
He chewed on his lip, no doubt thinking of his next argument. “I don’t trust them.”
“Who?”
“The Mantocks.”
I closed my eyes, tired of arguing. “Fynn—”
“You know things changed when Gavin married the princess. What if they try to use you or—”
“The nobility don’t pay us any attention. I’ll be fine, and it’s only temporary. The fruit will come back in a couple years,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Some of it will come back.”
“Yes.”
“You hope.”
I turned on him. “Yes, I hope! Is that such a terrible thing?”
“If it means that you spend the next two years working your fingers to the bone only to have Hayworth decide it’s not worth it to keep the orchard anyway, then yes.” His gaze bored into mine. “You don’t want to do this. I know you well enough to know that. The thought of going back into service terrifies you, but you’re too stubborn about those blasted trees to just do what needs to be done.”
I stared ahead, lifting my chin and refusing to acknowledge the truth of his words. “The fruit will come back,” I insisted.
“Maybe.”
We fell into silence, unwilling to bend, but unwilling to continue the fight, either. I tried to let the bumps of the uneven road distract me from the future I was headed toward, but Fynn’s words had affected me more than I wanted to admit.
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