HIS EVENING STAR

Chapter XIV

Nova

The autumn morning stretched before me with a warning of frost in the air. I held onto the ladder with both hands as Elijah worked above me, the steady rhythm of his hammering echoing across the yard. After breakfast, we had resumed our task of reinforcing the house - a project that had consumed our days lately. Small leakages peppered the structure here and there, including holes in corners and walls that needed attention before winter arrived.

"Even the tiniest gap can let enough cold air in to change the temperature of an entire room," Elijah had explained earlier, his voice carrying the weight of experience. The thought alone made me pull my shawl tighter around my shoulders.

In the past few days, we had successfully reinforced the farmhouse's exterior. The flat timber boards we'd found proved perfect for sealing the small cracks, and that task had gone smoothly enough. But now, facing the main house with its more complex needs, I felt the pressure of our race against time.

We had been working on the roof for nearly an hour, still focused on just one side of the house. Unlike the farmhouse, which had weathered the seasons well, the main structure's roof demanded significant attention. Having no experience with such physical labor, I had offered to hold the ladder - the least I could do, I thought, though my arms were beginning to ache from maintaining their firm grip. To my relief, Elijah hadn't objected to my help, limited as it was.

A sudden grunt of frustration broke through my thoughts as a box of nails tumbled from the roof's edge, scattering across the ground. I flinched at the sound but maintained my steady grip on the ladder. Above me, Elijah set down his hammer with barely contained irritation, running his hand through his dark locks. I could feel the anger radiating from him, silent but palpable.

"S-should I pick them up?" I ventured, careful to keep my voice soft, non-confrontational. Even after a month in his home, some habits from my past remained - the instinct to make myself small in the face of others' anger, the automatic lowering of my eyes.

Elijah's head jerked down, golden eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. I swallowed hard and lowered my gaze further, my heart quickening despite knowing he meant no harm. His frustrated sigh broke the tension, followed by the sound of him gathering his hammer and beginning his descent. I gripped the ladder more firmly, determined to at least ensure his safe return to the ground.

Once his feet touched earth, he wordlessly extended the hammer toward me. I accepted it with confusion written across my features, a question forming on my lips. But it died unspoken as I watched him drop to his knees, methodically gathering the scattered nails. The sight made my heart clench with an unexpected tenderness.

In my previous life, I would have been beaten for simply watching others pick up what had fallen – slaves were expected to dive for every dropped crumb, every scattered item. Yet here I stood, hammer in hand, while Elijah – who owned this land, this house – gathered nails from the dirt without complaint. The contrast wasn't lost on me. He had told me before that I was only to pick things up when "necessary," though I still struggled to understand when that might be.

Rising with the box of nails in his hand, Elijah turned to me. "Get on it."

My brows furrowed in confusion.

"Get on the ladder," he emphasized, his voice carrying a hint of impatience.

My eyes widened, almost comically large. "M-me?" The word came out as a squeak as I pointed to myself, my gaze darting between him and the imposing height of the ladder. "Y-you want me to go up? And do what—"

"You're smaller and lighter." He stepped closer to the ladder, testing its stability with practiced movements. "Plus, you have quick hands. Figure we can get this done quicker."