Page 63 of Always to Remember
Lucian spun around. Clay’d never seen a hat come off a head so fast in his life.
“You shouldn’t be over here, Taffy,” Lucian said quietly.
Smiling softly, she extended a dipper of water. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
Lucian grinned. “How could I be thirsty when you been bringing me water all day?”
She shrugged slightly, her cheeks pinkening. “You just looked thirsty.”
“Then I reckon I am.”
Lucian took the dipper and drank the water, his eyes never leaving Taffy. He handed the empty dipper back to her. “I appreciate the thought.”
In the distance, the tuning of a fiddle sounded. “You gonna stay for the dance?” Taffy asked.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“I was hoping you might. I thought maybe you’d ask me to dance.”
Lucian sighed deeply. “I talked to your pa.” He shifted his hat to the hand holding the hammer and touched his thumb to her cheek. “Taffy, honey, he doesn’t want me calling on you.”
She studied the ground, then nudged Lucian’s foot with her toe before meeting his gaze. “I don’t see that it’s his decision to make. I’m almost seventeen, nearly fully growed, and he doesn’t know what I look for in a man.”
Lucian chuckled. “Girl, you’re gonna get me a good sound beatin'.”
“I’m worth it,” she promised before she walked away.
“Just between you and me,” Clay said, “if I had to choose between a pretty girl wanting a dance and pounding nails into boards, I’d pick the pretty girl.”
An appreciative smile eased onto Lucian’s face. “She is pretty, ain’t she?” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back before Clay could remind him the wall wasn’t finished. He fell through the frame and hit the ground.
Clay threw his head back and laughed until his sides ached.
Standing within the twilight shadows, Meg heard the deep laughter rumble, the first sound of pure unexpected pleasure she’d heard all day.
She watched Clay extend his hand and pull Lucian to his feet. Lucian walked away, and Clay pounded the nails into the one wall of the bam that was not yet completed.
She heard the bittersweet strains of the fiddle wrap around the echoes of the solitary hammer.
Why had he stayed?
Why had he stayed to suffer the wrath and scorn of people who would prefer to lie among snakes than speak with him?
And why did she feel so guilty for not acknowledging his presence? They had a pact, a gentlemen’s agreement, which he’d honored today.
Why did she wish he hadn’t?
He didn’t silence his hammer until night fell. In the dark she watched his silhouette walk to the wagon where the twins had gone at dusk.
He’d spent his entire day giving his neighbor the wall of a barn, and no one had thanked him. He’d spent a stormy night carving a child’s marker for which no one would ever thank him. In the name of honor, he had sacrificed his dream of going to Europe.
She wondered how many other things he may have done in his life for which he had received no praise or consideration.
The gentle strains of “Greensleeves” filled the night. Closing her eyes, she allowed the melody to bring forth memories of dancing within Kirk’s arms.
“Meg?”
She opened her eyes. “Hello, Lucian.”
