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She’d always loved animals, and found she had an easy way with most of them, though her exposure had been limited to Uncle Frederick’s Irish Wolfhounds and a couple of cats that kept the mice at bay in her family’s sprawling home. Granted, she wouldn’t waste her affections on the rooster here, but other deserving beasts received kindness from her, and more often than not, they returned it. That being said, she was still somewhat terrified of sitting next to the huge milk cows, who had a tendency to kick the milker or the full bucket if one gave their udders too firm a tug.
“Oooh, there’s a good girl, Macey,” she cooed, running her hands down the brown cow’s back to let her know she was here to take care of her. She set up the stool next to the cow, now looking back at her with big brown doe eyes.
“Be kind to me today, yeah? It’s my birthday, after all.”
Macey replied with a loud bellow, which made her laugh.
“Why thank you. What a good friend you have turned out to be.” She set to work like Lenny had shown her, and found the rhythmic patter of milk in the pail relaxing. After the pail was half full, she started to sing to the cadence.
“Oh, please ne’er forget me though waves now lie o’er me
I was once young and pretty and my spirit ran free
But destiny tore me from country and loved ones
And from the new land I was never to see.”
The song was a sad one, but eerily beautiful. It was an old English song about an immigrant’s daughter. Mother had found comfort in it after she’d traveled to America from her home in London. She’d sung it often when Eliza was little. It had always stayed close to her heart, especially as she’d grown older and understood more of what her mother had been forced to give up.
Inherited from her mother, she had a fair voice, as far as she knew. When Aunt Elizabeth had thrown extravagant parties, she’d even requested Eliza sing for the guests. Surely it was as close to a compliment as the woman had ever paid her.
“A poor immigrant’s daughter too frightened to know
I was leaving forever the land of my soul
Amid struggle and fear my parents did pray
To place courage to leave o’er the longing to stay.”
The soft noise of boots scuffling straw sounded behind her. She turned abruptly, sloshing the pail with her foot, but caught it before the bucket tipped over.
“Oh, bollocks!” She moved the pail out of Macey’s way. Garret stalked past her, headed in the direction of the horses’ stalls. He wouldn’t look her in the eye, and if she had to guess, he almost looked embarrassed. How long had he been standing behind her?
She moved on to Bossy and finished in silence. Her acute awareness of him was drawn by the muscles in his arms and shoulders moving as he stacked square bales of hay with an iron hook. The fluidity born of his strength never faltered, and she pursed her lips in an effort to keep from ogling the man.
Grimacing in concentration, he didn’t seem to notice her attention. He hauled skittish and rain-soaked horses to their stalls from the corral, his deep voice silken as he soothed them. Apparently, she had to be an animal to earn the reward of a kind word.
A wayward squirt of milk shot the leather of her shoe, and she righted the teat. Peeking around the cow’s back end, she blew a curled strand of hair out of her face.
The rain against the thin cotton of his button-down shirt had done wonders for the view. It clung to every curve of his torso. Okay, now she was ogling. Such an intoxicating man was impossible to ignore. When she had two full pails, she hefted one in each hand. Struggling, she made for the door.
“I can help you haul those in,” he said.
“I can do it,” she told him. Ignoring his gaze on her back, she clomped through the mud toward the house. The morning colored in gray and pouring rain was indeed the perfect weather for the day.
By lunchtime, Lenny still hadn’t made an appearance. Without her friend’s help, the meal was only partially burned and mostly edible. Victory. She gave a private grin of satisfaction when Garret finished every morsel of the piled plate.
Garret headed out on Rooney in his heavy duster. When he’d gone from sight, the tension in her shoulders ebbed. A fair amount of her chores were outside, and with Garret here to take care of the bulk of them, she found herself grateful he didn’t seem to mind the torrential downpour.
She settled into the recliner nearest the fire to take in the wine-colored dress, eyes on the sewing and her mind and ears on the door. Though he was abrasive and irritating, she still worried for the surly man. It was irrational. Maybe her longing stemmed from a desire to recognize the remnants of her long-lost childhood friend, she didn’t know. No matter how many times she told herself the kind little boy she knew didn’t exist anymore, loyalty made her wait and wish he would appear just the same. Silly, inconvenient, little hopes.
At dusk, Garret’s boots hit the creakiest board of the front porch. She stood so suddenly, the book she had fallen asleep reading slipped from her lap and clattered to the wooden floor. Despite berating herself for feeling so, a weight so large it seemed tangible lifted from her shoulders. He was back.
Garret took a long, hard look at her as he came through the door, and then went about the business of shaking out his clothes and hanging his hat and jacket on the hooks by the door. He was very busy avoiding her.
By showing up with a package wrapped in the brown paper from the dressmaker’s shop, Lenny saved the encounter from becoming more awkward. The woman’s grin was infectious as she stepped around Garret and handed the present to Eliza.
“For me?” This was beyond reason—a gift for her?
