Page 64 of Fair Weather Enemies
“Yes.”
“Why? Why, after what you did to me?”
He rubbed his face with his hands. “After we left you at the tree, I begged off from my friends and circled back. I watched from a distance as you tried over and over to climb that tree in bare feet and a soiled pink dress. You were so terribly determined. I kept waiting for you to give up, but you would not. I was duly impressed. When you finally did surrender and go home, I went after the shoes on your behalf.”
She continued to stare at him as the memory circled her mind. This time, however, she imagined young Adam watching her and then sacrificing his hand to reclaim her dignity. Tears threatened anew. Moment by moment, her darkest memory of Adam crystallized into something new. Something better. Something more closely resembling the character of the man he had become these past days. She stared at him until his face flushed and he tugged at his collar. “Will you comment, please? Otherwise, I may be forced to throw myself from the bedroom window in utter shame.”
She smiled softly. “Thank you for rescuing my shoes. Thank you for not abandoning me. But your actions that day beg a question.”
“Yes?”
“Why? Why did you help me, the smallest of Hancocks, your worst of enemies?”
His hand darted forward to take hers. She flinched at the feel of his bare skin against hers, and a spasm shot through her chest. He leaned forward and gazed deeply into her eyes, daring her to believe him. “I helped you, Jane, because I witnessed then something that took me years to dismiss. I saw how wonderful you were, how brave, how precious. I only wish I had not forgotten that until these last few days.”
Once again, a confession of Adam’s knocked her back in surprise. She smiled sheepishly. “So, you think I am wonderful?”
“I do. God spare me the wrath of my ancestors, but I do.”
Her head began to spin. Perhaps it was only the fever, but she suspected an alternative. She drew a calming breath to steady her head, which proved difficult considering his lingering touch. Adam’s willingness to speak openly of his regard for her, though, lent her a measure of courage. She used it the best way she knew how. “I find you rather wonderful as well, much to my surprise and delight. So, then, are we truly friends?”
He nodded once, twice, three times. “Of that, I have no doubt. None whatsoever.”
Despite the warmth of the moment, cold reality began to invade her thoughts. “But what of the coin toss? What of the contract? What of your commitment to Miss Rutley, win or lose?”
Her mention of those circumstances appeared to remind Adam of their mutual dire condition. He withdrew his hand. His features went slack and he buried his forehead in a palm. “I don’t know.”
“Nothing at all?”
He looked up, wearing a mournful frown. “Sometimes, it seems, we cannot rescue the shoes from the tree no matter how hard we try.”
…
Three days of contentment. That is how Adam characterized the time between Jane’s awakening and her declaration that she was ready to travel. He worried over her condition, noting the aftermath of illness in her movements. Her walk remained more deliberate. She appeared to restrain her boundless energy, doling it out with care rather than expending it in frenetic bursts. However, he did not question her decision. Instead, he relished the indelible memories of three days by her side. Their mutual expression of affection had dismantled the final wall between them. In its absence came conversation that served to draw them steadily closer. His desire for permanent friendship with Jane proved a torment, though. Where one wall had fallen, larger barriers rose to take its place.
“What monster so deeply disturbs your thoughts, Adam?”
He resolved his vacant stare to find Jane smiling at him. He pursed his lips. “I believe you know.”
She nodded sadly. “I believe I do.”
They studied each other for a time, speaking volumes without words. The silence might have lasted much longer had not Mr. Wordsworth entered the drawing room where they sat.
“Good morning. May I?” He gestured to an empty chair.
“By all means,” Adam said. “We must speak to you anyway.”
Wordsworth nodded and sat. He called through the door. “Mary, perhaps you should join us.”
“A moment,” Mrs. Wordsworth called back.
Adam’s brow creased. What of Hester and Mr. Barlow? They had grown conspicuously absent the past two days. “Does anyone know where our traveling companions are?”
Wordsworth laughed. “Touring the garden. Again. As is befitting of those engaged in a courtship dance.”
Jane’s eyes went wide. “Aunt Hester and Mr. Barlow are courting?”
“They have not said as much, but only a fool could miss it. I wish them well.”
