A Forgiving Heart

by Kasey Stockton

  A Forgiving Heart

  Seasons of Change, book 2

  Kasey Stockton

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kasey Stockton

  Cover design by Ashtyn Newbold

  First print edition: May 2020

  Golden Owl Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations for the purpose of a book review.

  Contents

  1. Kate

  2. Kate

  3. Peter

  4. Kate

  5. Kate

  6. Peter

  7. Kate

  8. Kate

  9. Martin

  10. Kate

  11. Kate

  12. Kate

  13. Kate

  14. Kate

  15. Peter

  16. Kate

  17. Kate

  18. Kate

  19. Kate

  20. Kate

  21. Kate

  22. Kate

  23. Kate

  24. Kate

  25. Kate

  26. Martin

  27. Kate

  28. Kate

  29. Kate

  30. Kate

  31. Kate

  32. Kate

  33. Kate

  34. Peter

  35. Kate

  36. Kate

  37. Peter

  Epilogue

  Seasons of Change

  Also by Kasey Stockton

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For those who’ve felt the comfort of forgiveness

  1

  Kate

  The sun shone on nine-year-old Kate’s pale skin and warmed her soul as thoroughly as it did her body. The empty basket swung from her fingertips as she strolled along the open country lane, relishing the solitary freedom and keeping an eye out for the split tree she had overheard Uncle’s servants talk about.

  She needed to hurry. If Uncle knew she was outside unaccompanied and not locked in that wretched schoolroom upstairs with nasty Mrs. Herman, he would take a switch to her backside in a heartbeat. She’d learned that the hard way when she first came to Split Tree Manor six weeks ago.

  Six weeks. Longer than a month since she’d felt the sun on her skin or breathed crisp, clean air outside. For a child so used to playing out of doors when the chores were finished, Uncle’s strict rules forbidding Kate to leave the house were nearly tortuous. And this momentary reprieve, her clean escape after Mrs. Herman fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon, was a balm. She drew in a deep breath. Whatever punishment awaited her return was worth this gulp of fresh air.

  A stilted bird call sounded in the distance and wind rustled through the tall grass, but all thoughts of wildlife and scenery left Kate when the infamous split tree came into sight. There, off to the right of the lane was the glorious tree, with not one but two trunks shooting out of the base in a slight “v” formation. Kate gawked up at the biological marvel. She hadn’t seen anything quite so amazing in all of her nine years.

  Removing the small, blank book from her apron pocket, Kate sketched a rough picture of the tree before including the rolling hills behind it and the country lane beside. She added in the plump blackberry bushes on the opposite side of the road before closing her book and tucking her lead pencil into her hair.

  Scooping up the empty basket, Kate skipped over to the blackberry bushes and gathered as many berries as she could without staining her dress. She was faintly aware of the sun moving along the sky, but the berries were so ripe and juicy, more of them were making their way into her mouth than into the basket. Glancing over her shoulder, she drew in a quick breath, noticing how low the sun had fallen.

  She needed to return to Split Tree Manor, and fast. Uncle never allowed her to leave the house, and if he noticed she was missing, she would certainly regret it.

  Turning back for the lane, Kate heard the same bird call she’d heard before followed by a chorus of laughter. It sounded like boys, but could it be children? Perhaps there was another girl her own age who lived nearby.

  Was there time to investigate? Her gaze dragged from the lane which led back to Split Tree Manor to the woods just beyond the hedge of blackberry bushes. The thick copse of trees beckoned her with their intrigue, dim and deep.

  Curiosity ever her downfall, Kate tucked the basket neatly under the bushes before tiptoeing into the dense forest. She could be quick about it. The bird call sounded again, followed by more laughter, and Kate took careful, soft steps toward the noises.

  The less muffled the sounds became, the quieter Kate made herself. Two boys appeared on the bank of a small creek, a few years her senior, at least. Crouching behind a green bush littered with small, purple berries, Kate peeked through the leaves to watch them. She swallowed hard at the sight of the boys, quite savage with their shirts stripped off and cases of arrows slung over their bare shoulders. They took turns shooting at a birch tree and missing by a large margin.

  Pulling back on his arrow, one of the boys tilted it higher, shooting it to the uppermost branches. Losing the arrow among the branches, he scowled, and Kate squinted to see better through the bush.

  A faint bird call floated through the air, followed by tiny baby bird chirps. Mocking calls made by one of the savage boys met her ears and she shivered. They docked more arrows and aimed them at the nest.

  What animals!

  Kate stood to intercede, indignation coursing through her, when something fell on the top of her head. She rubbed her skull, lifting the piece of tree bark that had fallen on her and tossing it aside.

  The larger of the two golden-haired savages was aiming his arrow once again. How could he purposefully hurt a nest of baby birds? She opened her mouth to call to him when she was pelted with multiple pieces of tree bark.

  That was no accident.

  Kate looked up this time, sweeping her gaze over the tree. She saw nothing but a canopy of tree leaves and branches. Shaking her head to loosen any remaining bark, she took a step away from the bush and collapsed when something hard hit her square between the shoulders. Ouch. That was certainly too hard to be tree bark.

  Sprawled on her hands and knees, she scrambled to her feet and cringed at the mud smeared across her pinafore. There would be no hiding this mess from Uncle. She searched the branches above her, shielding her eyes from more falling debris. They appeared empty.

  Another horrid attempt at a bird call pulled her attention toward the savage boys. She had to do something.

  A quiet whistle reached her, and she whipped her head up again. A small hand waved from within the branches nearly at the top of the tree. She couldn’t quite make out anything beyond the waving hand at first, but her eyes focused, and she narrowed her gaze on brown breeches and a shoeless foot dangling from a high branch.

  A boy hid, perched in the branches, his thin face angled toward her, eyes wide with fright. Was he afraid of the savages, or afraid for Kate? Regardless, the magnitude of his fear was warning enough for her, and she crouched down behind the bush once again, watching helplessly as the two older boys shot arrow after arrow at the poor defenseless bird and her chicks.

  Time stretched slowly, dragging on before the boys ran out of arrows. Instead of gathering what they had shot, they discarded their weapons, pulled shirts over their heads and turned to walk away from the scene—and directly toward Kate.

  She looked up to the branches. The shoeless boy put a single finger
up to his lips, and she nodded. It would be a mistake to call out, but she desperately wanted to ask why he was hiding. Would the boys hurt him if they found him? Would they hurt her?

  Crouching lower into the bush, she squeezed her eyes shut as the sound of boots crunching twigs grew steadily louder in her ears.

  “Charles, take a look,” a voice said directly beside her.

  Her shoulders jerked in surprise, startled to hear the refined accent of the upper class on so savage a boy. But a peek at the blond boys’ clothing revealed quality fabric and well cared for boots. Though, the credit for the shine to the boots likely went to their servants.

  Kate shuddered before peeking into the face of the one called Charles and immediately wished she hadn't. His expression was a display of mild curiosity, but within his eyes was a gleam which she recognized from Uncle.

  Hate.

  “I see,” Charles said in an uncomfortably tranquil tone. “Looks like we’ve found a lost little girl in need of a helping hand. Shall we help her?”

  “I’m not lost,” Kate said belligerently before snapping her mouth closed. If Uncle’s switch had taught her anything, it was that talking back only made things worse.

  The savages looked at one another in silent conversation before narrowing in on her once again.

  Charles, obviously the leader, said, “You’re on our land. Do you know what the penalty is for trespassing, little girl?”

  Kate tried not to cringe as Charles’s breath washed over her face. He had evidently eaten fish and had chosen to skip cleaning his teeth afterward. She edged back into the bush as far as she could but immediately saw the mistake of boxing herself in. Quick thinking had always been Kate’s saving attribute, and she glanced around to see what she had at her disposal. Her small fingers felt behind her until they closed around a shoe.

  It took all of her self-control not to glance up at the boy in the branches and his stockinged foot. This must be his shoe; it was too random, otherwise. She wanted to commend his quick thinking, for he must have tossed the shoe at Kate when the bark hadn’t done the trick.

  Taking a quick glance behind the boys, she routed her escape, and with an arm quick as lightning, she flung the shoe into Charles’s face and took off in the direction of the blackberry bushes.

  Footsteps thundered behind her, and Kate hiked up her skirt to run faster, zigzagging a path through the woods. She glanced over her shoulder to gauge her attackers’ distance and before she knew it, her foot snagged on a root, the ground rushing up and colliding with the side of her head.

  Pushing up from the dirt forest floor, she groaned. Her ears rang, and the entire left side of her face throbbed where dirt and small rocks had scraped it raw. Something warm and wet dripped into her eye, but she wiped it with her sleeve and tried not to panic at the sight of blood.

  The pounding grew louder as she pushed herself into a seated position.

  “Grab her!” Charles yelled as his minion crashed toward her. The other boy came behind and grabbed both of her arms, yanking her to stand and pinning her hands behind her back.

  She winced when Charles stepped up to her, holding the shoe she’d thrown in his face. Looking Charles in the eye, she swallowed a smile. A faint blue bruise was already beginning between his nose and right eye, and Kate imagined it would only grow with time.

  “Where is he?” Charles asked through his teeth, his face distorted in anger.

  Kate swallowed. She glanced at the empty forest on either side of Charles before trying to look over her shoulder at the boy who held her back.

  “Not my brother, you nitwit,” Charles said in exasperation. He held up the shoe and spoke again, enunciating each word laced with anger. “Where is he?”

  Realization dawned. He was asking about the little boy hiding in the tree. Kate lifted her chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Charles’s minion tightened his hold on her arms, and she cried out.

  “Tell me where the little brat is!” Charles shouted.

  Kate dropped her head to protect herself in what little way she could. She wasn’t quick enough, for Charles pelted the shoe at her stomach and she let out a cry that reverberated among the trees.

  Kate felt the slightest slack of the minion’s hold on her arms. “Charles, maybe we should—” His voice just behind her ear was softer than she’d expected. She wanted to turn around and look in his eyes, to see if they held the same hate as his brother’s.

  “No,” Charles cut him off, his voice steel. “I will find him.”

  Kate was terrified, but not for herself. She had lived through her share of bullying and was tough enough to get through this. She was worried for the boy. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but she’d seen that he was scrawny. A few good knocks from these larger boys and he’d be done in.

  “You mean that little boy?” Kate said, breath heaving as she formulated a plan.

  The minion stilled behind her, but she kept going. “The scrawny one, right?” Her gut roiled from bad-mouthing the boy, thus placing herself in league with the bullies. But this was the only way. “I saw him picking berries out by that weird tree. You know the one?”

  “Yeah. Split Tree.” Charles nodded, too dumb to realize she was misleading him completely.

  “Right. The split tree.”

  “Well, go on,” Charles bellowed.

  Kate tried to look over her shoulder again, but Charles’s brother wouldn’t slacken his hold on her arms. She swallowed and kept going, trying to sound as tough as the older girls she used to share a room with at the parish orphanage. “The little runt was eating the berries I picked so I pummeled him. I took his shoes for sport and threw one of them in the stream.”

  A sick smile tilted Charles’s lips, and he locked eyes with his brother above her head. When he turned his attention back on Kate, she felt like she might vomit. “Where is he now?” Charles asked.

  She tried to shrug. “I left him cryin’ by the berries last I know. Not too long ago, either.”

  Charles flicked his head to indicate they should take off.

  Kate rolled her shoulders once she was released. She watched their burly forms head toward Split Tree and the blackberry bushes. The minion brother glanced over his shoulder and held her gaze. She was correct—he didn’t have the same evil in his blue-gray eyes. But regardless, she wouldn’t back down to a bully. She stood tall, watching him until he looked away.

  A long sigh escaped her throat before a shudder joined it. She froze when Charles paused and turned back to her.

  “How do we know you aren’t lying?”

  She pointed to the shoe lying on its side amidst the stones and twigs and lifted a tiny eyebrow. “How else would I have that?”

  He seemed to accept this and jogged away, his brother falling in behind him.

  As soon as the savages were out of sight, Kate picked up the shoe and sprinted back to where she had last seen the boy up in the tree. She made it to the stream and searched the foliage. He was either very good at blending in, or he was gone.

  “Thank you.”

  Kate was startled by the voice behind her and spun around, ready to strike with the shoe once again. She let out a pent-up breath when she laid eyes on the sandy-haired boy before tossing his shoe to him.

  “It was nothing,” she said with a shrug.

  His face was serious. “Not to me, it wasn’t.”

  She smiled at him and tried to laugh, his somber tone leaving her uneasy. “They were just bullies.”

  The boy looked past her to where the others had retreated and then focused on her face. “Come to the water and I’ll clean you up.”

  “There is no need,” Kate said, shaking her head. “I’ve got to return before my uncle finds me missing or I’ll be back on chimney duty.” She shuddered. She needed to somehow burn her dress and create a new one, too. She didn’t have any more time to waste.

  The boy nodded in understanding. “Bullies are everywhere, aren’t th
ey?”

  She didn’t know how to respond to this. It was true for her, but she somehow didn’t think the boy needed an answer. And she still had to find a way back to Split Tree Manor without going by the split tree or the blackberry bushes. She turned to leave, but the boy’s hand shot out and stopped her.

  His gaze locked on her, rooting her to the spot. “Someday I will repay you for what you did for me.”

  Kate scanned his face, trying to read through the intent and seriousness that belied his tender years. He had to be her age, at least, but he spoke so desperately.

  She nodded slowly until he released her arm. Then she ran for the edge of the woods.

  2

  Kate

  Eleven years later

  Leaning precariously over the edge of the ladder, Kate stretched her arm as far as it would go. The tips of her fingers brushed the rounded edge of a juicy plum that hung just out of reach. She had the ladder wedged securely against the trunk of the aged tree, but any more leaning could topple her in an instant. She pulled her arm back and shook it out as if that would add the needed length before trying for the fruit one last time. Her basket was full of enough juicy plums for Mrs. James to create at least four cakes for the school social, but that last plum would be a nice treat for Kate’s walk back.