Harvest of Love

Chapter 8

            After I had some time to simmer down and think about things, I was still confused as to where we went from here. She had said she 'wouldn't ask again,' but ask what? To hang out as friends? Or offering herself to me? For the last two days, I have been replaying what transpired and if I made the wrong decision. I mean, what guy in his right mind would refuse her? I tell myself it was just so unexpected that I wasn't prepared, but I know that isn't the truth. It felt all wrong, cheap even. Like it would be just a way for her to pass the time, ease her boredom or something. Call it pride or bruised male ego, but I don't want to be just a passing fancy. I work for her father, not for her amusement.

             A part of me feels almost sorry for her. I'm sure losing her mother at such a young age and then seeing how her father treated women must have warped her into believing that was the only way she was to be valued. And what about Clem? If I had done as she suggested, he would have been furious, and even worse, disappointed in me. As crazy as it seems, his opinion matters to me. So where does that leave us? Do I go apologise? But for what? Not taking advantage of her? I run my hand through my hair in frustration. I need to get out of here. These four walls are suffocating me.

            I decided to take a walk to the barn. In the back are the horses, and Mr. Thomas has some high dollar thoroughbreds that wouldn't mind a good brush down. I go directly to my favorite. He is the stud horse; all muscle and barely harnessed strength. As I approach, he snorts while shaking his head up and down, stomping a hoof.

"Easy, boy. I'm just here to visit," I say in a soft voice and slowly reach my hand out to touch his head. He eyes me warily, but after a sniff of my hand, he allows the contact. His mane is a silky black while his flesh is the deepest brown, almost black. After I build his trust even more with an offer of oats, I feel comfortable entering the stall and grabbing the brush. The slow even strokes have a calming effect on me. My mind is able to clear from the tormenting thoughts of Rebecca. But fate is a cruel mistress, for the next thing I know, I hear her voice. She's talking to someone, and another female voice accompanies hers. I try to blend into the shadows, hoping they won't take notice of me.

"So . . . you're going to the dance with Paul, I hear?" A petite blond with her hair in low pigtails and wearing riding apparel questions Rebecca who makes my mouth go dry seeing her in the tight fitting Jodhpurs. The blond seems smug in her statement. She must be the well-intentioned match-maker. Rebecca answers nonchalantly,

"He asked, and I didn't have a date yet, so I agreed."

"I knew you'd like Paul!" Blondie claps her hands in excitement and is grinning ear to ear.

"Slow down, MaryBeth, it's just a dance, not a marriage proposal."

"But that's how marriage proposals start . . . a first date . . . then a second . . ." MaryBeth states while counting off the 'dates' on her fingers. When she gets to her third finger on her left hand, she looks at Rebecca with her eyebrows lifted in question. Rebecca rolls her eyes and continues to walk toward her horse. As they pass the stall I'm hiding in, it is at that precise moment Thunderbolt decides to whinny, causing them to turn their gaze my way. Any hope I had of being invisible was shattered by the high-pitched scream that escaped from the girl named MaryBeth. The noise frightens Thunderbolt into a nervous prancing, and I'm quick to jump out the stall before getting kicked by the powerful stallion.

"Mason?!" Rebecca exclaims. "What in the world are you doing here?"

We stare at each other for a moment, our breaths quickened from the surprise, before I can answer.

"I was just brushing down the horse."

"Were you eavesdropping on us?" Rebecca asks accusingly.

"Not intentionally. It's not like I've been hiding in here all day just waiting for you to walk by," I answer curtly enraged by her audacity. We continue to stare at each other with an air of hostility radiating between us. The cute blonde, now that I can get a good look at her, clears her throat and interjects.

"Rebecca, aren't you going to introduce me?" She looks from Rebecca at me, demurely batting her eyelashes. She's not nearly as tall as Rebecca or as thin, but her curvaceousness adds a softness to her, and her blue eyes shine with interest. My appraisal of her brings a smile to my lips and a blush to her face.

"Yes, Rebecca, why don't you introduce me?" I challenge. With a scowl and a roll of her eyes, she grudgingly does so.

"Mason, MaryBeth. MaryBeth, Mason," she says while gesturing between us with her hand before crossing her arms against her chest.

"It's nice to meet you, Mason," MaryBeth extends her hand to shake or for me to kiss. I go with a handshake, but state that the pleasure is all mine. Rebecca is then quick to inform that I am a work hand for her father which I'm positive she is trying to belittle me, but it is missed by MaryBeth who laughingly squeezes my bicep and jokes, "Well, I didn't think he got these from brushing horses all day." It's easy to see that Rebecca doesn't like that MaryBeth has an interest in me. I decided to add fuel to the fire.

"Rebecca was just mentioning to me a few days ago about a barn dance?"

"Oh yes! You must go. It's such a fun time. Everyone will be there," MaryBeth answers excitedly.

"So you'll be there?" I ask MaryBeth.

"Yes, I'm definitely going," she answers, and her cheeks turn a becoming flush of pale pink.

"Then so will I," I give her my most charming smile.

"I thought we were going to ride horses sometime today," Rebecca complains loudly.

"Well, by all means, don't let me stop you," I answer with a smile. Rebecca turns and stomps off. MaryBeth looks at me apologetically.

"I don't know what's gotten into her . . ." MaryBeth looks from me to Rebecca's retreating back and then glances to me obviously, not wanting to leave just yet.

"I'll see you at the dance then?" I say as a form of farewell.

"At the dance," she answers with a quick nod of agreement. I watch her as hurries to catch up with Rebecca. She turns to glance back at me one last time to wave goodbye before disappearing around the corner. I can't help but think what a sweet cute girl she is, and why it's still Rebecca that boils my blood . . . arrogant, beautiful Rebecca.