Desperate times call for unexpected loves (Melisha Tweedy x FemOC)

Chapter 5: Revealing words

The days kept passing and the questions lurking in my head were still there. I did my usual tasks, but now my expression became somewhat sad, thoughtful. Every time I remembered those words, my entire body became tense. I just had to wait for Hugh's response to my last letter, I'm sure that would lift my spirits.

I didn't want to continue thinking about nonsense, and at the same time I couldn't help but do so. I was beginning to enter a crisis, a very dangerous one.

Luckily for me, Melisha didn't seem to want to pick at the wound. She remained distant the last few weeks. There were no insults or putdowns, just fleeting glances. I didn't know how to interpret them. Maybe she felt sorry for me, or maybe she thought she didn't really care about anything that happened to me or what I thought. She never did, although our last argument brought to light some concern about my future. For no reason, for no other reason than to make me believe that I didn't deserve the life I dreamed of so much.

"Well... Let's see," Mr Tweedy said, turning an old bicycle upside down. Yes, that bicycle that his wife mentioned days ago. I don't know how she intended me to use it, it was an absolute ruin. There wasn't much work that day and that made me have a little more freedom.

"It must be very old..." I murmured, running my hand over the old handlebars. He looked at me and nodded profusely, opening the toolbox on the floor.

"I think it was my father's..." He whispered. I nodded curiously. "Oh, but where is that damn wrench..."

"Do you need me to help you?" I asked, rolling up the sleeves of my dress. It seemed like a good way to entertain myself, fixing a bike, much better than wandering in my conflicting thoughts.

"Oh, thank you very much, Emily," he said smiling kindly, without stopping looking for the tool. "I would swear it was here."

"Do you remember where you put it last time?" I asked, taking a brief look.

"Yes, it was here..." He murmured, scratching his head. "I've been very distracted lately. Either that or..."

"Or what?"

"Don't tell my wife... But I think the chickens are behind it," he whispered, checking that there was no trace of Mrs Tweedy in the barn. I frowned and crossed my arms. It was a ridiculous accusation, but at least I would let him explain himself. Maybe it even made sense.

"Oh, really? Do you think they...?" I asked in the same discreet tone. He nodded again, grabbing a screwdriver.

"Hold the handlebar, I'll see if I can unhook it," he asked me. I obeyed, glancing briefly at the chicken coop. The animals seemed calm, but it is true that every time he talked to them, they seemed to listen to me. Would they really be able to rob poor Willard?

"Oh, okay," I said, without letting go of the bike. "And why would they want a wrench?" I decided to play along, it could be a fun conversation, much more than any other on those sad days for me.

"I don't know..." He sighed, managing to pull the handlebars out of its place, making me stagger. "I guess they are up to no good..."

I left the piece on the ground and bent down to check the condition of that old means of transportation. At least it seemed like it had salvation.

"They're up to something?" I kept asking. He looked around again and then nodded as he fought with the nuts that seemed to resist.

"Sometimes I think they are trying to escape. But that's not going to happen, no chicken will escape, that's for sure."

I tried not to laugh at that poor man's paranoia. Surely his married life did not provide him enough entertainment and he tried to fill the void in his life by imagining bizarre stories about thieving chickens.