Born to Run

Chapter 1: To Flee

The birds twittered unceasingly as she walked down the path. She dreamt with each step, fantasizing about nothing in particular. The warm summer rays of the sun caressed her bare arms, and there was no other place she’d rather be. The farmer’s boy tipped his hat flirtatiously as she passed by, but the girl gave no appearance of noticing his gesture. The townsfolk had been talking about the farmer’s boy’s evident interest in and some of the rumours were all but savoury. The way people spoke in this town! 

Lost in the tranquillity of the moment, nothing else seemed to faze the simply-dressed girl. Except a loud, piercing yell…

“Esme Goldworth, you come in right this minute!!” Esme’s mother yelled from across the field. She stood by the farmhouse with her hands on her hips, with a scowl threatening to appear in her expression. Mama was not pleased.

“Coming, Mama,” Esme yelled back, hiking up her frock. She began to run, feeling the red dirt fly each time her feet hit the ground. Esme loved to run. It wasn’t something she could do often, however. Mama hated it. Maybe if Papa had lived…

But Papa was long gone now. He had died twenty years ago. There was only Mama, Esme, Heidi and Louisa. Esme’s brother, Kenneth, was a soldier. They had not seen him since he left to fight for the King, five years ago.

Mama looked Esme over with a sharp glance. “You were running,” she said sternly.

“Yes, Mama… I was.”

“You are not supposed to run. Only children run. Women walk.”

Heidi and Louisa exchanged amused glances. This was not the first time Esme and her mother had had this conversation. “But if I had walked, Mama, I would not be here right now; punctual as ever.”

Fury could not be hidden in Mama’s eyes. The problem was, of course, that the youngest daughter, or Esme, was right. Heidi, the eldest, said once that Esme took after her father more than Mama.  Esme had a way of subtly opposing without terribly insulting. And Mama hated it. “Go upstairs and wash up for dinner, young lady,” her gaze was pinched with hatred.

Kind defender. That’s what Esme meant. Papa had named her so. It was a wonder as to how he could’ve known that the twenty-year old could be so much like him though he died before she was born.

After freshening up and soothing her bruised ego, Esme descended the creaky stairs to join Mama and her sisters at the dinner table. But there was someone else there. She gasped. “What are you doing here?” Esme asked, trying to mask the horror in her voice.

The farmer’s boy, or Ted, as most called him, smiled, and said softly, “I came to call, miss. I hope you do not mind.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but Mama cut in. “Of course she does not mind, Ted! Please, do sit down.”

Esme stood, unmoving. “Mama,” she said in attempt to curb her temper at this matchmaking spree. “I will dine outside this night.” Despite Mama’s ranting and fuming, Esme turned around and headed out the door. It was not until she found herself in the rose garden that she realised Ted had followed her.

“Esme,” he tried to begin, formality dissipating like the sun in the already-indigo sky. “I came for dinner for a reason.”

“The garden is so pretty at night, is it not?” Esme closed her eyes, turning away from him. She had a very good idea of what was to come. But, she was prepared to do anything to get his mind off his purpose of coming.

“The garden is not what I had in mind, Esme.”

His sincerity touched her. Any twenty year old would be begging for this attention. A pledge of love was a dream come true…