UNBROKEN PROMISE

~26~ Lesson In The Barn

The morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen window as Oma busied herself preparing Logan’s breakfast. Her hands moved quickly, her mind racing after he had mentioned his trip to the neighboring town. She carefully packed his lunch as well, tucking everything neatly into a basket and setting it on the counter. The task gave her something to focus on, something to keep her from overthinking the strange tension that always seemed to linger between them. She went back to her room when she was done.

When Logan’s familiar knock sounded at her door, she straightened quickly, smoothing her apron before calling out, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Logan stepped inside, his broad frame filling the small space. His expression was as stoic as ever, but his eyes softened slightly when they met hers. “I’m headin’ out,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I’ll need you to feed the chickens while I’m gone. The feed’s in the barn, near the back wall. There’s a scoop there—you use it to fill the troughs.”

Oma nodded, clasping her hands in front of her. “Alright,” she said softly. “Your food’s on the counter.”

Logan glanced toward the basket, nodding his thanks. “Appreciate it,” he said gruffly. He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he gave her a brief nod and turned to leave.

Oma watched him go, her heart sinking slightly as the door closed behind him. She wasn’t sure why she always felt so unsettled around him. Maybe it was the weight of his expectations, or the way he seemed to see through her even when she tried to hide. Whatever it was, it left her feeling like she was always walking on eggshells.

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Later that morning, Oma found herself at the main house, sitting at the kitchen table with Mama Becca and Megan. The warm, inviting smells of breakfast filled the room, and Caleb’s cheerful babbling echoed from the other side of the house. Despite the cozy atmosphere, Oma’s mind lingered on the task Logan had given her.

“You alright, Oma?” Megan asked, her sharp eyes catching the faraway look on Oma’s face. “You’ve been quiet this mornin’—even quieter than usual.”

Oma managed a small smile, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Just thinkin’, that’s all.”

Mama Becca gave her a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, she passed Oma another biscuit, her tone warm as she said, “Eat up, child. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.”

Oma nodded, taking the biscuit with a quiet “Thank you.” She tried to focus on the meal, but the thought of the chickens—and the unfamiliar responsibility—gnawed at her.

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When it was time to feed the chickens, Oma went to the shed to fetch the feed. She found the large burlap sack in the corner, next to the bin Logan had mentioned. The metal scoop rested on top, but in her haste, Oma decided to skip using it.

“I’ll just pour it straight from the bag,” she muttered to herself.

Grabbing the bag with both hands, she tried to lift it, but it was heavier than she’d expected. She stumbled slightly, her foot catching on the edge of the bin. In her scramble to regain her balance, the scoop slipped off the edge and clattered to the floor. A sickening crack echoed through the shed, and Oma froze, her heart sinking as she looked down at the now-broken handle.

Oma’s heart sank as she picked it up, the cracked handle staring back at her like an accusation. Panic gripped her chest as she looked around, her mind racing. She couldn’t let Logan find out—not when he’d trusted her with such a simple task.