“You may recognize the Bealls,” he says, indicating our guests sitting opposite us. “This is their daughter, Ellener.”
I incline my head stiffly. “Pleasure.”
“Our son, Jasper,” my father finishes.
“Good day to you,” Mrs. Beall says. She’s seated on one side of Ellener, Mr. Beall on the other.
I want to scream with all the power I carry in my lungs.
“Jasper,” Mr. Beall says in greeting. “We hear you have a promising position at the printer?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, my eyes briefly turning to Ellener. She looks vaguely familiar, flaxen-haired and slight, someone I’ve likely crossed paths with in town, although we’ve never spoken. I refocus my attention on Mr. Beall. “I’ve an apprenticeship with my father. I appreciate greatly the opportunity to learn under his guidance.”
The words taste ashen on my tongue, but Mr. Beall offers a pleased smile and a nod.
“If I may,” Catherine says, standing in the doorway. “Dinner is prepared.”
My mother pushes out of her seat, skirts swooshing, and waves a hand for our guests. “This way.”
The table is set with our finest dishware. I’m placed opposite Ellener, like a prop in a play. Laughter bubbles up in my throat, but I quickly swallow it down, my eyes burning.
I wish I were with Abraham a thousand miles from here.
The lamb Catherine prepared is delicious. I pick at it as pleasantries are discussed. Ellener sits as quietly as me, and I can’t help but wonder if she wants to be here.
How am I supposed to wed? How can I possibly make a home with someone soft and pretty like Ellener when all Iwant is Abraham, with his sturdy arms and deeply spoken words?Stars above. How will I ever bed a woman?
The mere thought makes me feel ill, and I have to forcibly quell my stomach, lest I lose Catherine’s lamb.
Will Abraham still want me? If I must court and marry and carry out my duties, will he still accept me into his arms?
That gravity I felt before—that inevitable, unstoppable pull—tears at me anew.
I’m forced to make polite conversation when we retreat back to the parlor. The afternoon sun streams into the room, the angle such that I imagine scampering under it and slipping away. If only I could.
The Bealls take their leave before long, not daring to overstay their welcome. Ellener gives me her hand at the door, and I hold it as she curtsies. If pressed at a later time to describe a single detail of her face, I wouldn’t be able to do it.
The hall is quiet once the door shuts, my mother turning my way. “Will you see her again?”
I don’t know how to answer her.
She speaks at my hesitation. “If not her, it will be someone else, Jasper. It is time.”
I give a short nod, and, blessedly, she lets me be. Heart in my throat, I make my way to my bedchamber. The door shuts with a quiet click, and I barely resist dropping to my knees.
It’s not even dark when I make my escape out the window.
I arrive at the creek before Abraham. As soon as I reach the water’s edge, I tear off my waistcoat, toss my shoes, and pull down my stockings. One snags, and I breathe a quiet apology to Catherine as I throw it aside. Raking my fingers through my hair, I walk along the side of the creek, pacing back and forth. My pulse won’t settle. My mind won’t quiet.
I can do nothing but let out a scream as I drop to the earth.
“Jasper?”
I nearly collapse at the familiar, worried voice. Abraham is running my way, concern etched into every line of his face and body. He drops down beside me, hands cradling my face, callused thumbs swiping at my tears.
“My heart, what is wrong?”
I cry harder at the question, and Abraham pulls me onto his lap. I cling to him, my face tucked against his shoulder, his hands on my back like a shield.
