Page 7 of Whispers of Helena
I dry my hands, pour myself a cup of coffee, and follow him, sitting beside him at the wooden table. Kiran watches us curiously from his seat. Silas leans back, focusing on his son with a calm intensity that charges the air.
“Kiran,” he begins, his voice low. “Ms. Helena is here to help us for the summer. She’ll work with you on your schoolwork, keep your learning steady.”
Kiran shifts, glancing between the two of us. “Okay.”
Silas’s gaze sharpens, holding the boy’s attention. “You’re to mind her, show her respect. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Kiran replies, nodding.
Silas turns to me. “You’ll only need to prepare lunch and dinner. The men can handle breakfast. Let Eli know what you need; he places the orders for the ranch every Thursday. Weekends and holidays are yours and, of course, you’ll be compensated as the paperwork from the agency states.”
“That sounds fair,” I reply.
“Kiran, any questions for Ms. Helena?” Silas asks.
Kiran hesitates, then looks up at me, curious. “Where’s your family, Ms. Helena?”
My smile softens, though I feel the faint ache of memory. “I don’t really have a family anymore, so I help families like yours.”
His face falls a little, but he nods, thoughtful. “Oh.”
“May I ask you a question?” I say, trying to bring back his smile.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What’s your favorite animal?”
His face lights up, the shadow of sadness forgotten. “Tigers. I learned about them in a lesson once. They’re strong.”
“Good choice.” I grin, glancing at Silas. “That’s all I have for now.”
“Head back to the shop, Kiran,” Silas says, tipping his head toward the door.
“Yes, sir. Bye, Ms. Helena!” Kiran grabs his coat and dartsoutside, his footsteps echoing in the cold silence that settles in his absence.
I turn back to Silas, and his gaze feels heavier now, his eyes fixed on me as if searching for answers before he speaks. “I’d like for you to work out a structure for Kiran. Ruth could only teach him a couple days a week, so he spends most of his time out with Marcel, fixing trucks or mending fences.”
“Has he ever been to school?” I wonder, studying his face.
“No, with the work around the ranch, we opted for homeschooling.” His expression softens, a rare flicker of something vulnerable breaking through. “He’s curious, but he needs the right focus. If you run into trouble, let me know.”
“I will,” I reply, holding his gaze as I take a slow sip of coffee.
After a moment, his voice drops, quiet and probing. “What happened to your family?”
My eyes raise to meet his. “They passed away in a fire.”
He nods slowly, his eyes darkening. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He leans back, regarding me with an assessing gaze. “If you need anything, Eli or I can help. But I best get back outside.”
“Thank you.”
As he leaves, I watch from the window as he fixes his hat, his strides steady as he walks toward the paddock, each step heavy, shadowed by the endless fields and winter-bare trees. His world is harsh, uncompromising, like the land itself. Just horses, cattle, and the quiet, raw honesty of survival. After he disappears from view, I rummage through the freezer, finding four chickens to defrost for tonight’s dinner. I start a list in my mind of everything I need to get settled. Inventory of the pantry, cleaning schedule, meal rotation, and revise some lesson plans to be suitable for a six year old. I have my work cut out for me.
Sleepwalking
Helena
When thou liest down, thou shall not be afraid: yea thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet.
