The Traitor's Stain (wattys 2019)

Chapter Three - Setauket, Long Island

"Miss Ophelia, do you really think it's wise to be on your feet, right now?"

Ophelia looked up at Beth, who was helping her stock the shelves. She knew that tone: that was the way Beth talked when she had something to say, but knew that Ophelia wasn't going to like it.

She just about told her that she was just fine, until the throbbing in her back intensified. She just about fell over, but she didn't: she didn't want Beth to worry about her any more than she already was.

"Don't worry about me," Ophelia said. It felt less like a lie than telling Beth that she was okay. "I'll be fine: really. The doctor even said so."

"He also said that you shouldn't push yourself," Beth said.

Ophelia gave her a look.

Beth looked away. "I'm sorry, Miss Ophelia. That was too bold of me."

She sighed. "No: it wasn't." She put down the box she was holding and leaned against the wall. "I just hate taking it easy, Beth. If I don't do anything, I'm going to go absolutely insane. I always do."

"I know," Beth said. "I thought you were going to run yourself into the ground last year when you had the flu."

Ophelia... didn't remember that. There were about two weeks of her life last year that were a complete blur. But, from what she'd heard, she'd been rather insufferable while she was sick with the flu. Noah had done everything he could to get her to stay in bed and rest, but she never did: she didn't want to. The longer she stayed in bed, the more she felt like she wanted to take a lap around the island.

But, now that she didn't have Noah, she wouldn't have anybody trying to keep her in bed. She could move around as much as she wanted to.

It didn't mean that Beth didn't try, though. Every once and awhile, she tried to get her to take a break, suggest that she sit down every time Ophelia put a hand at the small of her back, but she didn't listen.

When it came time to make dinner that day, though, she began to wish that she had listened. Her back throbbed even more painfully than it had, before: it took a lot of effort to walk around the kitchen, minding the stew, pretending like nothing was wrong as she cooked.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?" Beth asked after Ophelia asked her to run to the baker's. "Really: you look like you're in a lot of pain."

"I'm fine," Ophelia lied. "I'm just fine."

Beth hesitated, then left.

Ophelia sighed, putting a hand on her back and putting her head down. She felt light-headed. Was she really hurt? The doctor said that she would be fine as long as she took it easy: maybe this was what he was talking about.

She turned to stir the pot of stew.

"Hello, Ophelia," a man's voice said from behind her.

Instinct took over. She grabbed the nearby rolling pin and swung it in the direction of the voice as hard as she could.

It connected, and it connected hard. Hard enough that the man that had been standing behind her fell to the ground, cursing, putting a hand to his face.

"What the hell?!"

And it was only then that she realized that she recognized that scruffy, glass eyed man. Who reeked of whale guts.

"Caleb?" Ophelia asked in disbelief as he slowly stood up, groaning, rubbing his face. "Caleb Brewster?"

"The one and only," Caleb said. "I-"