24
On the morning of theHarvest, my wrist was aching so badly that I could barely pick up the crochet hook.It was a shame because I had made incredible progress with the dress.Most of the bodice had been covered by frothy lace pieces.I only needed to do the sleeves, then the parts that rained down the skirt from the waist like flowering vines.
A loud knock sounded from my door.
“Bring the pies on your way down.They’re cooling on the counter,” Ma said brusquely.
I only grunted in response.I was still attempting to crochet, determined to finish the lace work today, even as my arm screamed in protest.
They say beauty is pain; so is making beautiful things.
After another hour or so when I finally stood to stretch, my stomach was tight with hunger.This was how it was, being lost in my work; hours would fly by and I would forget to eat or move.I hadn’t been this absorbed since sewing for the winter tour, which I took as a good sign—a promise that this dress would be my greatest yet.
I went to open the door, intending to head to the kitchen, and was surprised to see another figure at the threshold.
Maddox held up a steaming mug.“I brought you tea.”
It had been several days since we’d spoken one-on-one.He seemed to prefer Christabella’s company over mine.They were always bent over piles of paper together—Maddox’s manuscript I presumed.I was only a little sulky that he was more comfortable sharing its contents with Chrissy than with me.
“Thanks,” I said, reaching for it before I realized my wrist was out of order.I switched to my left hand and took a sip.Strongly brewed without a hint of milk or sugar.I stole a look at Maddox over the rim, surprised he knew how I liked my tea.
“It’s almost time to go,” he said, flicking his gaze over my loose, bedraggled hair.“Are you ready?”
I shook my head, quickly raking my fingers across my scalp.“How’s Edmund?”
“He’s gone with Mrs.Phula and Christabella to the village square already.”
“And you haven’t followed him?You’re his guard.”
“Your mother is a better guard than I could be,” Maddox said with a snort.“And scarier.”
I tossed my hair behind my shoulders.I usually kept it in a braid, but I couldn’t even manage a series of chain stitches, much less braid my own thick, long, and very unruly hair.Usually Ma barged in to help me dress, but seeing as she let me have some semblance of privacy lately, I had no one to help with my hair.
“I can help,” Maddox said.
I startled, wondering if I had muttered my thoughts aloud.
He looked back at me with an earnest expression.“Your hair.Sit.”
