Page 63 of Fair Weather Enemies
“I do refer to that incident, and many others.”
She dipped her chin to peer at him intently. “Well, I humiliated you then only because of what you did to me the day we first met.”
He did not attempt to feign ignorance of the matter, and instead bowed his head with apparent shame. “Oh, yes. That. I imagined we would come to it eventually. Do you remember the details?”
She did remember. Vividly. Until that incident, the Ashfords had merely been figments of her childish imagination, the trolls beneath the bridges and the wolves in the woods. On that day when she’d first met Adam, though, he had justified every terrible word spoken of his family within the Hancock household. Afterward, ill feelings had come easily, giving way to resentment and finally hatred. Yes, she remembered.
“I recall the details very well, Adam. They left a lasting mark. However, I wonder what you recall of the incident. How do you remember it?”
His head remained buried in shame. “Will you force me to tell it?”
“Yes.” Then softer, “Please.”
He lifted his head. “For you, then.” His eyes found the ceiling as he began recalling that day when she’d been seven years old and still unjaded.
“I was with my friends, running wild on a summer’s day as young boys are wont to do when left unattended. We slipped the iron bonds of my governess and ran down the lane, free.”
“I remember your friends. A pampered, spoiled lot they were.”
He glanced at her before averting his eyes. “I won’t argue that.”
“Go on, then.”
He nodded. “It seems our vagabond travels took us past your family’s mill. I explained to my friends my family’s death feud with the owners of the mill. I relayed the particulars of the duel and a couple of other unseemly events of which I was aware. That’s when I saw you by the tree.”
“The one down the lane from the mill.”
“Yes. That one. There you stood in a pink dress that was clearly unfit for a day of rambling. You held your shoes, one in each hand.”
She remembered those shoes. Black and shiny, and the fanciest she had ever owned. “They were brand new—a birthday gift. Mother told me not to wear them outside of Sunday, but I could not resist the temptation. In bare feet, I walked down the lane out of sight of the mill so I could put them on and prance to my heart’s content. However, I never got the chance.”
He nodded understanding. “My friends and I came along before you could put them on, I suppose.”
“You did.”
He glanced up at her again and held her gaze. “Must we continue with this?”
“I think we must.”
He inhaled a deep breath and expelled it through extended cheeks. “If we must.” He stared again at the floor. “When I saw you, I recognized you. Although I did not know you personally, I knew who you were. I told my friends as much. I explained to them that you were the enemy of which I spoke. I associated you with all the darkest moments of our family feud and turned them against you. As such, what happened next was entirely my fault.”
Jane remembered well what happened next. Adam’s friends had surrounded her—four of them. All older. All self-important. All fueled by the irresponsibility of adolescence. As Adam had stood by, the boys had taken turns pushing her to the ground and breathing threats that proved terrifying to an innocent. One boy struck her twice on the face before snatching her shoes. With far too much glee, he’d hurled them into the tree repeatedly until both became stuck. They pushed her down again and went away laughing.
Adam’s thumb on her cheek startled her from the grips of the bleak memory. He wiped away the tear she had not known was there. His expression carried a burden of woe. “I am terribly sorry for what they did. For what I did. It was unforgivable.”
She sniffled and wiped away another tear. “I was devastated. I tried climbing the tree to retrieve my shoes but failed. My feet bled as I walked home. My best dress was ruined. Mother asked what happened, but I refused to tell. I was afraid she would punish me for losing my shoes.”
“Oh, Jane. I did not know.”
She breathed deeply and sighed, attempting to dispel the clinging memory. “A troubling tale, to be certain. However, there was a silver lining.”
His drawn features lifted with hope. “A silver lining?”
“Yes. When I awoke early the next morning, I dressed to go outside. When I opened the door, there were my shoes on the landing. They were clean and shiny, with not a trace of the violence done to them. I suspected that my father or perhaps one of his workers had witnessed the event. I can’t imagine the effort required to retrieve them.”
Adam shook his head and smiled softly. “I can. I had a devil of a time climbing that silly tree and collecting them.” He extended a palm and touched a faint scar. “The incident left a mark on me as well. Polishing shoes with one good hand is a task much more difficult than it seems.”
She stared at him with jaw agape, briefly speechless. “You? You retrieved my shoes? And cleaned them and left them at my door?”
