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Was I being courted? Or was it just wishful thinking?
I didn’t want Randal knowing about my father, either. I was embarrassed by his nastiness, laziness, and drunken ways. If Randal knew my father, I was sure he wouldn’t look at me like I was so special any longer.
They say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and I couldn’t bear to think of Randal realizing that, as my father’s daughter, I was just as rotten to the core. I believed in my heart I was different, but I knew how judgmental people could be as well.
From the larder, I gathered not only my own food for the day, but some for Randal as well. I cut an extra-wide bit of Gouda and put in a generous portion of that day’s loaf of wholemeal bread for us to share. Then I grabbed a small pot of butter that I had churned myself, as well as a small jar of raspberry preserve.
It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it would have to do. With my basket in hand, I limped through the backdoor to head for the stables.
It was much earlier than I usually left, but I couldn’t wait to see Randal. My early departure was rewarded by dozens of ripe cherries hanging low on the cherry tree, still untouched by the birds. These I picked quickly and added them to my basket, and then hurried toward the stable, allowing myself to dream for a little while that maybe, just maybe, Randal could be the man for me.
And my heart sang at the thought of calling him mine.
To my surprise, Randal was already hard at work when I arrived. I saw him from a distance, lugging two big bales of hay, one on each shoulder.
His hulking frame was sweaty and shirtless. I clutched my basket and pressed my hand to my chest. He was enormous, like one of those massive foreign lumberjacks that come through the valley every spring with the carnival, lifting huge boulders and whole uncut logs while the townspeople marvel at them, and children dangle from their curled biceps.
His shoulder muscles were so defined, I could actually see the sinews ripple. As he moved in and out of the barn, he made the massive door look tiny. I had only ever seen a body like his in paintings on the chapel ceiling in town. What a man. My entire being responded to him with a thrumming excitement.
Even from a distance, I could see that the burn marks covering his face also covered a great deal of his body. They were terrible scars. I knew that only a raging fire could cause so much damage, and though I never wanted to intrude on his pain, I wondered what tragedy had befallen him to make them. I ached at the thought of how he must have suffered for his body to be marked so. To imagine such a huge, strapping man in so much terrible agony.
My bosom rose beneath my palm as I took a deep breath. I told myself not to be such a swooning. stupid girl. He was just a man. I knew that.
Nonsense. I knew that he wasn’t just a man. These feelings I had for him weren’t just feelings either. He tossed one bail up into the loft, one-armed, and then turned to grab the second, so that he was facing me across the yard. I waived to him as I approached.
When he saw me, his face lit up and he beamed at me from across the farmyard. He looked so very handsome when he smiled. In that moment, I only saw the man, not the scars, and the shiver that traced through me defied the heat gathering in the air.
“How are you feeling?” He called out to me, shielding his face from the rising sun with one massive hand.
“I’m fine!” I called back, maneuvering around a muddy puddle. “It’s getting better! Brought us something to eat!”
He set down the second of the two bails and splashed a bucket of water over his head. Water glistened down the deeply defined borders of his carved muscles, rippling through the curls of hair across his wide chest and running through the thick scarred skin. As I neared him, he seemed to remember he was bare-chested and snatched up his shirt. But now I was close enough that I didn’t have to yell to be heard.
Lowering my voice, I said, “You don’t need to cover yourself on my account.”
Randal looked at me, searching my face that same way he had the day before—on the lookout for horror or fear. There was none to be found, I could guarantee it. But it didn’t seem like enough. He shook his head, drawing away from me slightly.
“You don’t want to see me like this.” He ran his hand through his short-cropped hair and turned away.
