Love, Surprising

Chapter 5: Caroline

May 1786

Mock's Mill

What did I say? I wondered. I upset him somehow. The man before me appeared angry enough to punch a hole in the wooden wall of the stand he stood in. I reached out and touched his arm.

"Are you ok?" I was concerned. I didn't know what happened.

"Huh?" The man shook himself and looked down at her face. "What did you say?"

" Are you okay?" I asked again, removing my hand from his arm. He watched my hand as I pulled it away.

" Um, yes I am fine." He answered shakily.

" What is wrong then? What has made you angry?" I inquired carefully. "Was it something I said? I'm sorry I ran away, well not really but if that is what made you upset..." I rambled along until he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

" No, not the running away...the name...Edward Clark." He stuttered angrily.

" Do you know him?" I asked. How could that be though? This...baker personally knows the rich Edward Clark?

" Yes, I do... he is an old foe." The man growled.

My eyes widened. "Why is that? Did he do something to harm you?" I knew there was something about Edward I didn't like.

The man grimaced. " Yes, he is horrible, but it is a long story that we have no time for. He is probably already tracking you down. You need to keep going. I will help you get away." He turned and started packing up his things in the stand.

Tracking me down, whaaa? "Wait, what? He's tracking me down? What do you mean by that? If anyone is tracking me down, it's my parents. They will not harm me!" I exclaimed, though slightly confused.

"Yes, track you down. He is a horrid man, seeking for his own pleasure. I'm glad you ran away." The man declared. "Come with me, and I'll assist you, take you where you need to go."

"Wait. I don't even know you. I don't know your name. How do I know I can trust you? What if you're the bad man here?" I questioned him, even though I had a feeling deep down I could indeed trust this man to help me.

The man looked deep into my eyes, and I allowed myself for the first time to fully look at him. He's so handsome, my breath caught in my throat. He was at least six feet tall, towering over my five foot four frame. Muscled forearms poked out of rolled up sleeves. The cotton shirt he wore clung to his frame. He had copper, shoulder length hair which was neatly tied with a black ribbon at the nape of his neck. But his eyes...His eyes were a deep, stormy blue...and slightly...familiar?

The man cleared his throat. "My name is Timothy Grey. And I know you're concerned about trusting me, but you can. I promise you. I will help you."

I looked at Timothy and put on my brave face. "I suppose that will have to do. My name is Caroline Rhode."

"Any relation to Rhode Island?" Timothy grinned at me.

A jokester huh? Oh well, some humor is good. I rolled my eyes, "No. Haha so funny. Now what do I have to do? How can you help me get away?"

"Well for starters, I need to pack up my stand and get some things from home." Timothy explained.

" Do you need help with anything?" I asked, tucking my hands behind my back.

" Sure. Just wrap the rest of the bread up and I'll take it to the cart." Timothy briefed me. Between the two of us, the packing went quickly. The remnants of the bread and cheese were stacked in the cart, and Timothy locked his stand with a key hung on a strip of leather around his neck. Next to the padlock key hung another, strange looking, silver key.

That's an odd key, I mused. I wonder what it unlocks?

Timothy hefted up the cart. "Follow me. We'll go to my home so I can grab a few supplies, and then we can go." I nodded and trailed him down the busy street. A few people on the street gave me odd stares, I smiled slightly at them, but hurried after Timothy. I took in the surroundings while scurrying behind the man in front of me. All the buildings were cleverly designed, with strong wooden beams and beautiful architecture. Pots full of blooming petunias and marigolds lined storefront windows. Before I knew it, Timothy stopped in front of his house. It looked snug.

"Well, this is my home." Timothy told me, opening the door wide. He appeared embarrassed. I surveyed to tiny, but well organized kitchen and living space. There was a door off the kitchen that I assumed went to a bedroom. A sturdy table was the focus of the space, accompanied by two chairs. Hooks by the door held cloaks and a hat. A worn, braided rug lay on the hardwood floor. There were barrels of flour. For bread making, I assumed. It was a nice, homey space.

" Very cozy." I commented kindly. Timothy smiled at me.

" I will just pack us some food and close some things up, then we can be on our way." Timothy told me. I nodded in agreement. Timothy briskly moved about his house, gathering food and clothes for the journey. He threw some dried venison, bread, and cheese into a sack. He also grabbed a couple canteens and filled them with water from the pump. Then Timothy closed all the shutters in his house, picked up his satchel filled with food and clothes, and latched the door. "I'm ready. Where were you headed?" Timothy asked me, leading me down the road out of town.

"I was on my way to my Aunt and Uncle's house in Georgetown, South Carolina." I replied, holding my satchel in my arms.

"That's going to take us almost a week to get there. There's a little stretch of mountainous terrain, and lots of forests. Are you up to it?" Timothy asked me, solemnly.

"I am. I will not marry that man." I stated. "Never."

Timothy hiked up his satchel. "Alright then. Follow me."

We were on our way.