Page 28 of Discovering Grace

Grace’s heart tripped along at a faster pace than necessary. He stood so near, the weight of his hands both inviting and somehow familiar. “Perhaps I will visit someday, given how highly you recommend it.”

A horse’s snort reminded Grace of the groom, their chaperone, and she stepped away. The moment she put distance between them, his hands falling from her waist, the air between them cooled. Still, her cheeks remained abominably hot. Jacob fetched the smaller of the two baskets from the rear of her cart. Hopefully he didn’t see her blush.

The path to the Harpers’ door consisted of well-packed dirt, and Mrs. Harper had taken pains to line the way with tiny white flowers. Mr. Harper had painted the door a deep blue, giving the cottage another bit of cheer. Regardless of their age and humble circumstances, the two lived most happily together from what Grace could tell.

Basket in hand, Jacob led the way to the door. He knocked, and voices drifted through the old wood.

“Did someone knock?” asked Mr. Harper, voice raised.

“Yes, I think they must’ve.” Mrs. Harper fairly shouted her reply.

Grace caught Jacob’s grin and returned it.

Several moments went by before the door opened, Mr. Harper standing there, stooped over and smiling. “Ah, good mornin’ Miss Grace.”

She blanched and opened her mouth to correct him, to announce herself as Hope. But why bother? The Harpers wouldn’t go about saying the wrong twin remained at home, as they likely had no idea either sister had left the county. Her lips closed over the denial of her identity and she curtsied instead.

“And the future vicar. Come in, come in.” Mr. Harper allowed them inside and shuffled to the table where his wife sat, a net spread out before her on their old table. With a bit of thin rope in her wrinkled hands, she deftly finished off a knot in the mesh before standing and making her curtsy.

“Ah, Miss Grace and Mr. Barnes. A fine morning it is to bring such kind guests to us. Won’t you sit for a moment? Might I offer you some cider?”

“You may, Mrs. Harper, but only if you allow me to take your place at the nets.” Jacob bowed and slipped into her seat before she could say otherwise. “I have not forgotten your lessons.” After he dropped his hat upon the table he took up more of her rope and started looping it through the mesh.

The old lady laughed and waved her hands at him. “Oh, you are a quick one. Mind your sider knots, lad.” She looked to Grace. “And you, Miss Grace?”

As the cider had come from the Everly orchards, Grace knew it would be worth partaking. “Please, Mrs. Harper.” She settled her basket on the small hutch that was sideboard and pantry both, then turned her attention to Mr. Harper. He whittled by the fire rather than work on the net. “What is that you work on, sir?” Though the pair were hard of hearing, Grace had to enunciate her words with a little more force than normal to be understood.

“Ah, nothin’ of much prettiness, miss. Here, have a look if ye like.” He held up the figure and she took it with delicacy. The wood, while still rough, clearly depicted two little birds huddled next to each other, one with a wing stretched over the other. “This is beautiful, Mr. Harper.”

“Thank ye. They be two turtledoves.” He took them back from her. “I’ve been makin’ it as a present for someone. Not sure who yet. S’pose the next person of our acquaintance to wed.”

Mrs. Harper shook her head with a fond smile deepening the wrinkles of her face. “He gives away most everything he makes. Everyone hereabouts has one of his little creatures.” She came over with tin mugs full of cider, setting one before Jacob as she passed him. “Here, miss. It’s really fine cider. Your father’s crops did well last year.”

“He will be glad to know you are enjoying it.” Grace sipped at the drink, relieved to find it had been mixed with something less strong, perhaps dandelion tea.

Waving the large needle in the air, Jacob gestured to his work. “How is this, madam? Is it done to your satisfaction?”

“Likely not,” Mrs. Harper answered with an amused sniff. “You cannot possibly know what you are about. You weren’t born to the work.” She came closer to him and peered at the net. “So you remembered your knots, but here.” She reached out and with a quick pull had his rope dangling. “A good knot is a sure knot, Mr. Barnes.”

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open as he stared at his work undone. Grace could not help the laugh that escaped her, though she swiftly covered her mouth and turned away. Mr. Harper’s dim gray eyes were dancing with equal amusement to hers.

“Tell me, Mr. Barnes,” the old man said, “are ye as handy with sermons as ye’re netting?” He rested his gnarled brown hand on his knee and leaned forward. “There’s a great deal of eagerness in Aldersy as we all wait to hear from ye.”

Grace watched Jacob give his seat to the old fishwife. He took up his cider in one hand and came to stand next to her. “I should hope I’m better at my trade than I am at yours. Will you come and let me know how you judge? I make my first sermon the third Sunday from now.”

“So soon? Aye, we’ll be there.”

“Unless it rains,” his wife put in from where she sat. “Mr. Harper’s rheumatism is awful when the sky’s falling.”

Mr. Harper straightened his stooped posture. “Can’t let a little thing like a sore knee put me off hearin’ from the new vicar.”

The two of them argued the matter, she reminding him how it would be if his leg pained him and he insisting he would be just fine. Their words had the sound of an old argument between them, yet each point was made without heat and the two were smiling across the room at each other like young lovers instead of an aged couple.

Warmth tickled Grace’s ear when Jacob leaned down to murmur, “We could leave now and they would never notice we were gone.” She covered her mouth to hide her smile, then shot him a glare.

“Manners, vicar.”

He chuckled and interrupted the argument in a friendly manner. “I think we must give way to Mrs. Harper’s concerns, sir. I would not like you to displease her for one of my sermons. She would likely come to hold me in contempt.”