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myfandomprompts · 7 months

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𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟗/𝟏𝟎)

Summary: There is little time left. Very little time. Previous Part - Masterlist

Warnings: angst, anti-Semitism French spoken -> italics

At first, it’s how Albert’s face seems to shut off each time your town’s name is seen on a sign at the side of the road, the mark that you’re getting closer to your destination. Then it’s how Tom looked like he wished for the earth to swallow him whole each time the bus station is mentioned, the place that will take you home.

It just seems so close now.

But there are good moments. At noon, when you find yourselves in the middle of nowhere with only the shade of the trees or a windmill to keep you cool, you all sit joyfully on the grass to eat what Charles and Germaine had generously given you; plenty of bread and ham to be able to walk without to a rumbling belly. It’s during those occasions that Tom never misses an opportunity to be next to you, the fact that you’ve taken to teaching him French seriously giving him a good reason to talk to you at length.

Not that he needed a good reason.

Everyone casually laughs at his attempts at pronunciation, each of them trying to participate and help where they can. But the truth is, he’d rather have you for himself, because he knew he could make you smile like he had never seen anyone else do, like nobody else could.

He wanted to be the only one.

“This isn’t even a word…”

“Yes it is!” you argued as you dropped your hand in defeat. “Poulailler is where the chickens go. Try it.”

He didn’t lose his teasing smile while he tried to pronounce it. “Yeah, still doesn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t bad. La poule is the chicken, le poulailler is the chicken coop, it’s as simple as that.”

“And how do you say rooster, then?”

You stopped yourself from answering him at the last second, red staining your cheeks slightly. “Mh, that you don’t want to know.”

“Why?”

You contemplated his curious and enticing smile before a voice interrupted you and your thoughts. “Hey, Y/N, can you tell me on the map where the store you slept in was again? Looks like a good hiding place for future travellers, if the owners get on board.”

You nod quietly to Giulia before taking the map from her to examine it while you heard Tom fall back at your side, disappointed. The conversation didn’t stray from the different points Giulia could use for her route, mentioning Raymond, whom Charles had said he would convince, and Albert, who already saw himself as a ‘passeur’ near Poitiers.

Tom was bored again, and you felt guilt at the sight of his glum expression. But it all went away when he suddenly comfortably rested his head on your lap, closing his eyes and proceeded to take a nap there as if it was the most natural thing to do.

There was a brief silence, but the others quickly reconvened around the current subject while indescribable affection and fulfilment flooded through you. You didn’t notice Henriette's discreet smile, Giulia’s indifference or Albert’s flickering eyes as you fell behind the conversation completely, coming to run your fingers through his hair.

He didn’t open his eyes, but his lips stretched into a content smile. The soft satisfying sound he made when you grazed your nails over his scalp cheered you, and only you heard his quiet praises, telling you how nice it felt.

This is what he had been talking about, making every moment count. You would not allow yourself to think of the end.

You didn’t leave his side once as you hit the road again, walking next to each other, hands itching to reach to the other. It felt liberating, confusing, good. However, the more you advanced, the more your feet started to gradually drag on the pathways, reluctant. You wished you could stretch the journey at will, to go back in time or simply think of this journey as a nice trip in the countryside. Not a way to make it home, to send him home.

To put all of this behind you.

But reality struck you like a slap in the face when you approached the next town, quiet streets with bricked walls plastered with the new government’s posters, and below one of them, an old looking graffiti with a single blood-icing sentence.

“Les Juifs sont la cause de la guerre.”

You all glanced at it before lowering your gazes and hastening the pace, taking the direction of the inn you would spend the night in in tensed silence.

Tom lingered a moment longer, trying to decipher the words without success. He trotted behind you, brows furrowed at your sudden sour faces. “What’s written there?”

You rolled your tongue inside of your mouth, ill at ease. “Jews are the reason for the war.”

He stopped, face decomposing after your whispered translation before glancing around in worry. But he quickly caught up with you as you neared the café terrace where both regulars and travellers were enjoying a drink or a well-deserved meal.

You exhaled in relief as you entered, the coolness of the inside air much more bearable after your journey, and by the time you sat around a table and booked rooms at the counter, Tom had found his usual silent countenance again. You could see the irritation in his eyes and within his gestures as he now could not utter a word out loud without earning a dark glance from Giulia, not until you were in a less crowded place again. It saddened you too.

You had to snap your eyes away from the way his tongue wetted his lips before taking a sip of his drink in frustration when Albert dropped a heavy book in front of you. “Phone book. I need your help finding Aunt Marie. It won’t hurt telling the parents we’re on our way.”

You nod, more like a reflex than anything else before opening the pages filled with countless telephone numbers. Tom eyed each time you turned a page with a dark expression, jaw clenching, but you said nothing as you continued. His glass was emptied by the time Henriette had gone to freshen herself in the commons, your own tired gaze fixed on the digits before you.

You didn’t notice the three policemen enter at first, the usualness of their visit blending perfectly with the rest of the customers, until they approached a table that had been awfully quiet since you’d arrived.

It was the entire room’s turn to fall in a tense silence. “Gutten Haben, Henrren.”

You lifted your head upon hearing the German words, not understanding why two French Policemen had suddenly switched languages. The one that had spoken was giving a sad look at the men seated for dinner, the two other policemen gauging the room warily.

“Uh… Gutten Haben, what can I… do for you?” one of the men asked in awful French, his thick German accent making the policemen smile briefly. Meanwhile, sweat was starting to form over the man’s forehead.

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to come with us. We’ve been told that you’re immigrants, German immigrants.”

The two Germanics exchanged frightened glances before gazing back at the rough-looking policeman. “But… We have papers, we obtained it from your government, months ago!”

The latter clicked his tongue, an uneasy scowl appearing on his features, as if he was trying to convince himself rather than them. “I’m afraid it won’t suffice. Our government has implemented new laws. You’re going home, I’m sorry.”

You heard murmurs around you, catching words like “ran away”, “Jewish” or “persecuted”. The next moment, Giulia was whispering in your ears. “Y/N, take Tom and go through the back entrance. If they are taking refugees, there is no say what they’ll do to a British soldier, and we can’t risk it. I’ll find Henriette.”

There was a strange state of purpose surpassing the brief panic that filled you before you took Tom’s hand softly under the table. He barely resisted when you led him away, heading to the back stairwell as the two Germans were taken out quietly out of the room and the two other policemen lingered around.

Tom didn’t say anything until you had reached a back alley with a slim stream coursing next to it. “What is it, what are we doing?”

You checked that the coast was clear before pulling him to a corner where no one would hear you. “I don’t… I don’t think this town is safe.”

“What are you talking about? I thought we’ve reached a ‘free’ place where they couldn’t chase us. Were they German folks?”

“I think they… I think they were Jewish refugees from Germany, yes,” you thought out loud, digging your teeth in your lower lip in anguish. “The Reich wants them back, for…”

“And what the hell has it gotta do with those French coppers?”

You knew how helpless you looked at that moment, how lost. “Because this is the new regime! Pétain will do anything Hitler asks of him, and there is no say where it’ll stop… You would be taken as a prisoner of war, you have no papers, you have nothing…” You bit your tongue darkly. “Somebody ratted out those Germans, that's how they knew.”

Tom parted his lips in exasperation before clenching his jaw hard. “Oh, that’s bloody brilliant.”

He leaned his head against the darkened wall, right next to a propaganda poster, Pétain looking down at you with high colours as if he could see you, hear you.

You bit your nails, stressed. “But it won’t happen to you! You’ve got Giulia, you’ve got a safe route to Spain, and there are no Nazis on this side, it’ll be alright.”

“Once again, Y/N, you don’t know that. I’m the first wanker who is making sure that crossing will not get me killed. Not that I’ll care about making it now, anyway…”

Shock at his words made your breath momentarily get stuck in your throat. You lowered your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to keep a straight face.

But you tensed and didn’t even know where to look.

He immediately realised what he had said, pushing himself off of the wall to make you look at him. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that.”

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head as he held you close, making you go soft against him. “Why would you say that…”

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” he repeated against your hair. “I’m just bloody tired, and it’s like I can’t see past the moment when… when we…” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about me then.”

You detached your face from his chest, looking up at him with fierce damped eyes. “I’ll never stop worrying about you, Tom.”

You saw the lump in his throat disappear as he swallowed hard, glistening eyes fixed on you. You cupped his face with your hand, bringing him into a kiss that would make him understand, feel your need for him.

“You don’t get to give up, you hear me, Tom Bennett?”

He all but smiled, a ray of light in the dark. “You should know me by now, nothing can take me down, not even a bullet.”

You smiled in turn, trying not to leave his warmth as you kept your body close. “You know, I can’t help but think that… if you haven’t been shot, we might have never met again.”

You stared at each other while his thumb stroked your shoulders, lowering to your ribs, to your waist.

He took a deep breath. “Some might say it’s God’s plan and all. Either way, considering where I am now… I’d say it was worth it, this damn hell I've been through.”

He was drawing small circles against the curve of your waist, tickling your skin and you chuckled through the bitterness. “Always the charmer, are you?”

“Well, yeah, that’s what I was known for back at home, wasn’t I? Gotta live up to the name.”

You hummed, coming to wrap your hands around his neck to stroke the soft hair there playfully. “That’s not exactly what I remember your reputation to be.”

“Hm? Care to tell me, then?” he teased.

You faked hesitation, pressing your forehead against his to whisper. “Trouble maker… Loud-mouthed… Hot blooded?”

He pouted. “That… does not sound like me at all.”

His hidden laughter made you tilt your head to the side in refound glee. “Doesn’t it? I could have sworn it was you. Maybe I should look for another Tom?”

He instantly pressed his body harder against yours, familiar heat meeting your flesh. “Why would you do that when you have what’s best right there? Helpful, good-looking, amazing kisser…”

“Oh, really? I don’t remember hearing anything about that last part.”

“Odd, since you’re the one who told me, love,” he said with a grin as you arched an eyebrow over your forehead. "Through the pretty sounds you make, that look in your eyes when I touch you… I just can tell.”

You shook your head with a sigh to try to hide the blush that adorned your cheeks as he joined his lips with yours again. The touch sent chills down your spine and it suddenly made you feel far away from the inn, from any risks that could come your way.

“Are you Jewish?”

The small tone made you stop and snap your eyes open. A small child stood behind Tom, no more than eight, looking at the two of you with a paper plane in his hands, his expression flat.

You froze in Tom’s arms as you blinked, his head falling backwards in annoyance as you pulled away from him. “I, uhm… No? Why would you ask that, sweetheart?”

The child frowned at your confused tone. “Then, why are you hiding?”

You remained speechless at his question as Tom’s warning tone fanned in your left ear. “Y/N, if I turn around that lad is going to be traumatised. You should really make him go.”

You scowled at his complicit eyes as you tried not to feel his point. You detached yourself from him, making him sigh in frustration as you approached the boy gently. “We’re hiding because… we’re playing a game. Tom here was meant to find me, and he did. We were just discussing… game strategy. Where are your parents?”

The boy sniffed, an untrustworthy look fixed on you. “My father says that Jews are bad, that they’re everywhere and steal everything from us. That’s why the Germans want them.”

You tried not to appear too gobsmacked as you lowered yourself to him, a sour taste in your mouth. “You know… Maybe you shouldn’t listen to everything your father says, I can assure you they-”

Tom’s impatience was palpable behind you and when he called your name, the boy’s frown deepened, clutching his paper plane harder as he glanced between the two of you. “Maybe I should go and ask my father directly, he’ll know.”

“No, wait!” you tried, but he had already scattered toward the house right at the opposite side of the road, disappearing behind a fence.

Tom came to your level, seeing you heave with distress. “What was that?”

“Not reassuring.”

You took his hand swiftly and dragged him along the stream in haste, wishing to put as much distance between you and the concerning neighbourhood before the boy could find you. Despite Tom’s hissed arguments as you kept walking, you only stopped when you reached the underside of a bridge, considering it far enough and feeling your slightly panicked heart settle.

“Are you giving me a tour?” he chuckled as he took in his surroundings. “It’s very pretty, I’ll give you that.”

It was. The bridge you had stopped under was small but big enough to hide you from anyone above. The evening light shone right on the stream below your feet and cast beams of light on the white stones. On the other side, a lone fisherman was laying his line in the calm waters, a bored eye lifted toward you as you turned to face Tom with a frustrated sigh.

“Darn this country. I’m sorry I dragged you here again, I just didn’t want to face people with problematic ideas. I didn’t want to get angry.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Does my girl get angry, really?”

“When people are stupid, yes!”

He chuckled as he pulled you away from under the bridge in order to walk along the stream, hand in hand. The grin he wore upon his lips was so endearing, as if he had no care in the world. "I’m afraid you’ll have to do an awful lot of fightin’, then.”

You exhaled as you pressed your thumb against the back of his hand, making him grin further. The night was setting quickly and already humidity was falling over your skin, eliciting goosebumps there.

“Do you even know how to get back?” he asked, looking around as you passed a small pier.

“Yeah, it’s somewhere… around there,” you gestured vaguely over your left to the path that led back on the road, hesitant. If truth was to be told, you were not in a hurry to get back, those moments with him seemed so precious to you.

Tom hummed, unconvinced but did not add anything else. As you went up the pathway, smells of dinners being cooked and playful screams of children reached you, and when you neared a small square further down the road, you heard the soft sound of a gramophone starting to play. Tom’s lips slowly curved upwards as he glanced over the high window where the music was coming from.

“What are you doing?” you asked when he turned around to face you, a playful glint in his eyes.

He didn’t answer, only brought you to a stop before taking one of your hands in his and putting the other on your waist. When the voice of Lys Gauty resounded, slow and beautiful along the violins, you felt yourself move in his embrace.

You laugh softly, feeling silly at each of your steps. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I went to a few of Lois’ gigs,” he said with a snidely. “I observed.”

“I’ve never seen you attend one…”

You saw his expression drop as you kept moved in rhythm. “Yeah, well, once I went there, knowing you would be there but when I arrived, you were dancing with some bloke and… I didn’t feel like staying.”

You watched his long eyelashes flutter, the skin under his eyes turning reddish as he fled your gaze. He was beautiful.

But you couldn’t help but tease him. “I remember. He was quite nice, offered me a drink afterwards…”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about it, really.”

You smiled tenderly, bringing a hand you wanted apologetic closer to his face. “He was not you, though. You wouldn’t have tried to get me drunk, right?”

Tom’s smile grew sardonic, satisfied. “The git.”

“Yeah,” you whispered as you pressed your lips against his smug ones, grinning through the kiss.

You lost yourselves in the melody, bodies moving languidly along the female soothing voice as he held you close, faces resting against each other.

“It’s nice… What does it say?” he asked after a while, hot breath fanning over your cheek.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the lyrics. The word slowly sank in and unexpectedly made your heart ache, their meaning passing over you like a cold wind. “It’s from a movie, I think. It’s… kind of sad.”

“Tell me.”

You felt some of his hair graze the side of your face as your voice turned a bit broken. “It’s about two young lovers of twenty. They lived very close, but although they loved each other they never had the courage to confess, until they kissed and all became brighter.”

He readjusted his position against you. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

The music turned sombre, trumpets playing in as you continued. “But then hope disappeared, and all took the shade of the night. They grew apart, and their story became part of the past, their shared dreams left behind as if nothing happened between them.”

Tom fell silent, his fingers pressing deeper into your palm and waist as you opened your eyes.

If the words resonated strongly within the two of you, their weight crushing like a hammer, you did your best to not let the other feel it. You couldn't let yourself be controlled by these emotions, not so close to the end.

The song ended on a distorted note and a click as your light steps slowed on the paved stone. When the melody started again, the same melancholic words repeating, you decided that you had enough.

You couldn't bear it. “We should go back.”

You slowly pulled away from him, shivering from the cold air around you from the loss of his embrace but felt his grip over your hand harden, securing you into place. He hadn’t moved, a determined expression displayed over his features, the one he took when he was battling against his emotions.

You looked at him expectantly. “You haven’t changed your mind, have ya? I really can’t convince you to come with me anymore.”

You tried to focus on his touch in order to shut out the now irritable music coming from the window above, to shut out the emotions that threatened to make tears appear at the rim of your eyes. Nothing was as bitter than your heart at that particular moment.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded slowly after a long while, his lips curling in bitterness, resignation. When you met his eyes, you could have sworn that the light inside of them had gone, the lively glint inhabiting it. But his hand remained locked with yours, warm and tight.

When you got back to the inn the night had fallen completely.

You often wondered what would have happened if you had listened to your father, if you hadn’t come home from England, stayed away from the war.

Would you still be in your tiny flat, not far from the centre? Would you be worried sick about Tom, as staring at the door he had slammed behind him like he had just left? Would he have even slammed it in anger if he had been the first to leave, and not you?

By now, the news of his disappearance or potential death must have reached Manchester, and you wondered how you would have felt if you had been on the other side of the mirror. You pictured a devastated Douglas, a lost and helpless Lois listening to the wireless. You couldn't even fathom the state you would have been in, if you weren't here, knowing he was perfectly out of danger, close to being reunited with your parents and having found your brother safe against all odds.

The greatest difference from where you stood was that here, you would have to see him leave, never to come back.

You're taken out of your reveries as you reached a crossroad, one moment Henriette asking you if you were alright, the other the boisterous voice of your brother making your head lift up in a quick motion.

"This is it," he announced, examining the sign in front of you. "This way is Châteauroux… where you'd be able to take the train,” he said toward Giulia as he waved somewhere over his right. “And this way is Poitiers. Our path.”

Your feet planted on the ground like they had suddenly grown roots and you felt the oxygen lack in your lungs as you forgot to breathe. You stared at the sign helplessly, trying to comprehend the words written on it, unwilling to.

You barely heard the conversation going vividly around you as the others said goodbye with warm embraces. Your eyes were turned toward Tom, finding him already looking at you and you felt your heart drop in your chest. His blue eyes bright, piercing, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

Only when the small form of Giulia came to block your vision were you forced to tear your gaze away from him. "Y/N, it was a pleasure meeting you. You really helped."

Your voice seemed to sound far away when you answered clumsily, barely present in the moment with her.

You felt so empty. "Oh, I, uhm… really?"

"Yes, more than you know."

Her smile managed to snatch one from you, but it didn’t linger as she hugged you kindly. Over her shoulder, you saw your brother shake Tom’s hand and Henriette bid him good luck with a smile, but he barely managed to return it. Instead, silence settled in the air as Giulia let go of you, your gaze fixed on Tom, speechless.

Henriette was the first to speak after a while, clearing her throat awkwardly. "We should give them a minute."

The crunching noise of pebbles on the ground as they stepped away resonated too loudly in your ears. Tom approached you carefully, his fair skin paler than usual against the warm summer air.

You fumbled with your hands, eyes barely able to meet his penetrative ones.

"I guess this is goodbye then," you said, throat achingly dry.

He didn't answer, staring at you relentlessly, making you hyper aware of the scorching heat gradually forming beneath your eyes. "You'll say hi to your father and sister for me, yeah? And to the baby…"

His mouth remained closed as you shifted uncomfortably into place, crushed under his gaze.

Not having enough of it.

"Stop looking at me like that…"

His eyes flickered, the softness of his tone surprising you as he parted his lips. "Looking at you like what?"

"Like you're… like you're mad at me."

'I'm not-" he began, shaking his head. "I'm not mad at you, I just… It's just fucking unfair."

You swallowed the sour taste in your mouth. “We’ll see each other again. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Then why does it bloody feel like it?”

You couldn't answer, the uncertainty of your lives too much to even think about, rendering promises achingly pointless. You bit the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt to stay composed, but when he lowered his gaze and took your hands in his, you froze.

They were so warm, perfect for you.

"Listen, Y/N, about these three words, these three damn very known words... I really need to say th-"

"No, please Tom, don't," you pleaded, feeling the dampness of your eyes barely holding in. "I can't… I couldn't cope. Please."

His face decomposed, eyes strained sadly upon you, lost. The words burned his tongue, melted his heart. Still, he didn’t say them.

You couldn't bear it, the expression he wore, your own doing. You felt a tear form at the rim of your right eye and you leaned into him, pressing your forehead against his to hide it from him. He sighed against you immediately, eyes closed and hands trailing up your arms.

He felt so good.

“Don't you dare forget about me, Y/N."

He sought out your lips, his nose digging into your cheek and you caved, melting into his needy kiss. It was slow and painfully sweet, realising that it could be your last. As his hands cupped your face more strongly, calloused fingers burning your numb flesh, you allowed yourself to make it last.

You pulled apart, panting for air as you remained in each other's embrace, your hands pressed against his chest. You found his heart to be beating as fast as yours, as shattered as yours.

After a sharp inhale, you felt it settle gradually as you tried to memorise the feel of him in your mind, to imprint it into your skin.

"Goodbye, Tom."

You kept your eyes shut as a single tear finally rolled down your cheek, your body aching as you battled against his softening grip. When you pulled away from him sharply, you could only repress a shuddering breath.

You didn't allow yourself to look back until you had reached the others, and when you finally turned, he hadn't moved a muscle, weary eyes strained in you, powerless as he stood in the middle of the path.

It took everything you had not to let more of your tears fall.

Giulia gave you a quick movement of the head before joining him. She had to call his name before he finally followed her. Henriette stroked your back as you watch him reluctantly walk backwards, his eyes not leaving your face.

Maybe it would be easier to just close yours, embrace the darkness, to not witnesses that wretched moment.

But you couldn't, and by the time he had disappeared around a corner, your cheeks had dried and the pain in your stomach had turned dull.

There were still a few more miles until you would reach the bus station, and you couldn't utter a word, barely acknowledging your surroundings as you kept walking.

Only when you were safely seated in the bus did you feel all of the emotion crashing down, true tears being finally released. There was no dull pain anymore, but aching regret clutching at your heart, and you had to press against your chest in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Y/N, what's happening?"

You tried to breathe, to remain quiet, but it was too painful. "I should have let him say it… I should have said it back, I should-" you panted in muffled cries as Henriette watched you with worry. "I should have said that I loved him."

You didn't calm down until you arrived at your destination.

Part 10 (and last one.)

Thank you @babyblue711 for you support and amazing beta reading, as always.

Music Tom and reader dance to:

A/N: The installation of antisemitism within the Vichy government occurred much later, the first step with a new Jewish status on October 1940. I fast fowarded it so it can be applied on the story, in July-August 1940. The persecution in Non-Occupied Zone came much later as well, but it didn’t prevent the hate toward the Jews in France. Jew immigrates were, however, arrested during that time, because they weren’t French (who still had some semblance of rights early in the war.) Same goes for the prisoners of war.

@chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan@yentroucnagol@tssf-imagines@nightdiamond8663 @lauraneedstochill @unleashthelion @helaenaluvr @omgkatherine01 @launotfound @r0segard3n @queenofshinigamis @helaelaemond

#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #smut #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell #angst #fluff #world on fire 1x06 #gone with regret #usermyfandomprompts #gone with regrets

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rhettabbotts · 1 year

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call it what you want - a rhett abbott series || chapter two

series masterlist | previous part | next part

warnings: none. reader and rhett are oblivious about their feelings towards each other. nosey parents.

a/n: i apologize for the long wait. life has been hectic and i haven’t been in the mood to write but i hope you all still enjoy and still want to follow along with rhett and angel’s story <3

You paced around your room in a panic. You must be mental, that could be the only thing that would explain why you agreed to go through this plan with Rhett. Of course, you couldn’t fake a relationship with your best friend that you’ve been in love with since middle school.

You scrubbed your face with your hands as you tried to devise an excuse to flake out. Rhett could tell his mom that you and he broke up, but that would honestly make matters worse instead of better. Your thoughts ran a thousand miles a minute and you couldn’t figure out one good reason to not do this. You knew Rhett better than anyone. His family loved you, they knew what kind of person you were. It didn’t seem like much of a surprise when he told his mom it was you he was seeing. It was only for a month, thirty days, four weeks - you could handle it.

You wouldn’t even have to see each other every day, make a few appearances at the Abbott’s dining table, maybe go out to the bar once or twice. Easy peasy. You wouldn’t have to kiss, wouldn’t have to be all affectionate with each other. Rhett wasn’t like that. This could work, you just have to stay calm and not let your emotions cloud your judgment.

Flopping down on the edge of your bed, you sighed out loud into the empty room.

“This is gonna be fine. It has to be fine,” you said aloud, earning a curious look from your golden retriever Daisy as she trotted into your bedroom. Her floppy ears perked up as you sighed again and she made her way over to you and rested her head on your knees. “I know, girl. I am crazy for saying yes, aren’t I?”

You busied yourself cleaning your apartment, trying to silence your brain by vigorously scrubbing the stainless steel kitchen sink. Your phone pinged with an incoming text message and your heart dropped when your mother’s name came across your screen along with the attached words “Call me.”

She knew. You were sure she knew by now. And you knew you were going to get an earful because she didn’t hear it from you first. You don’t think she would be necessarily upset that you’re “dating” Rhett, but she would be upset that you didn’t mention anything to her. How could you? You didn’t know yourself until this morning.

The phone rang once before your mom was on the other end of the line.

“You wanna tell me why I find out from Ruth down at Albert’s drug store that my daughter is dating Rhett Abbott?” She questioned, voice tinged with aggravation, but not anger.

“He wasn’t kidding,” you muttered to yourself. No matter how much he pleaded with Cecilia, the word was going to get out fast.

“Mama,” you started but couldn’t find the right words. “Mama, we just - it just sort of happened?” You had not discussed your story with Rhett yet, you didn’t know what you were going to tell people when they asked how this came to fruition.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been keeping this from me? You know I wouldn’t be upset about it. I’m happy for you, honey. But… have I done something to-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, mama. It has nothing to do with you. It’s just all so new and we wanted to figure things out before we told anyone. I hope you can understand that. I wasn’t hiding it from you, I was seeing where it went before I got your hopes up.” You explained, hoping it was convincing enough for her.

“I understand, Angel. You know your daddy and I dated two months before we told anyone. I’m glad you and Rhett finally came to your senses, sweet pea. Lord knows that boy’s been pining after you since grade school.”

“Mom!” You exclaimed as you felt your face warm.

“It’s true! Listen, why don’t you have him over for dinner tomorrow night? We wanna hear all about you two!”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to check with Rhett and-“

“Perfect! We’ll see you at 6! We love you, Angel!”

The line went dead and you slumped against the counter. You groaned into your hands as you covered your face. This was going to be delightful. You knew your mother would ask a million questions and your father would berate Rhett about treating you right. The potent smell of the lemon cleaner burned your nostrils and you needed to take a walk to clear your head before calling Rhett.

Daisy’s tail wagged excitedly as you grabbed her leash and your jacket. It was early fall, the leaves had just started changing colors; beautiful shades of golden yellow and burgundy, and vibrant orange. The wind was brisk and the sun was bright. It made for perfect walking weather. You took Daisy down to the park that was close to your apartment and your hands trembled as your thumb hovered over Rhett’s contact. You hated that you were so nervous all of a sudden. He was still your best friend, that hadn’t changed.

As if he had read your mind, his picture and name appeared on your screen signaling an incoming call from him. You sucked in a deep, shuddering breath before answering.

“I need you to get out of my head,” you laughed, earning a chuckle in return.

“Why, were you thinking about me?” Rhett teased. He sounded winded like he had just finished working.

“Actually, I was. I have to ask you something.” You picked at a loose string on your jacket, nerves bubbling in your stomach.

“Anything for you, Angel. You know that.”

“Well… mama found out. Said something about hearing it from Ruth Everett and she was a little upset that I didn’t say anything to her. So… she’s invited us to dinner at the house tomorrow night so we can tell her and my dad everything. You don’t have to say yes. I know you have a lot going on and I don’t want you to feel pressured into coming and-”

“Angel,” Rhett cut off your rambling, “what kind of boyfriend would I be if I said no?”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and you couldn’t stop the hammering of your heart at the word “boyfriend” even if it was a lie. You told him the time and he promised to be there early. You talked for a few more minutes about random things before you heard Royal yelling in the background and he had to go. You didn’t sleep much that night, too restless with your thoughts flooding your brain.

Sitting at your desk the next day was pure torture. You were in a haze, running over every possible scenario that could occur at dinner with Rhett and your parents. Rhett texted you around lunchtime to inform you that he would be picking you up no later than 5:30. The rest of the day passed by in a blur and your stomach was in knots the entire time you searched your closet for something to wear.

By the time you finally decided on something, your room looked like a mess. You feared the dress would be too much for your weekly dinner with your parents but you wanted to put in the effort because it wasn’t just a normal dinner. Rhett was going to be there. As your boyfriend. Well, fake boyfriend, that was.

You smoothed your hands down the front of the dress, pulling out any wrinkles that appeared. You heard the roar of the truck engine before Rhett pulled in front of your door. Daisy perked up from her spot on the couch and she waited patiently by the door for her favorite person to come in.

“Traitor,” you mumbled as you opened the door to see Rhett walking up the front steps. He had forgone his cowboy hat, but his hair was styled nicely. He wore a blue button-down shirt, similar to the blue that was in your dress, and a pair of slacks. He looked good. Gone was the dirty cowboy you were used to seeing. It took your breath away. Your ears rang as he greeted you, pulling you into a hug. His cologne flooded your senses, a pleasant woody smell that was so Rhett it made you dizzy. He patted Daisy on the head before leading you out the door.

“You ready for this?” He questioned. You could tell he was nervous by the way his voice wavered slightly.

“We have to come up with a story. It has to be convincing. You know my dad can detect a lie from a mile away.”

“We can’t just say you kissed me and I knew that was it?” He said jokingly, smiling that crooked grin that always got him what he wanted with you.

“No, we cannot! How about we say that you finally got the guts to ask me out?” Your mind ran back to what your mother said about Rhett pining over you. Maybe that would convince them this was real.

“That sounds like a good start. We were drinking. Drunk confessions are my specialty.”

“And you couldn’t stop staring at me and I asked if I had something on my face.”

“And I said that you were beautiful.”

“And you leaned in and asked to kiss me.”

“And the rest is history. Damn, we’re good at this.”

You smiled brightly at him as you perfected the story, but you were still afraid that your father would see right through the two of you. You pulled into your parents' driveway and you couldn’t help but take a few deep breaths.

“Angel- hey, look at me. If this is going to be too much, tell me and I’ll fix this.”

Rhett had turned to you at this point, grabbing your hand from across the bench seat. It calmed you tremendously.

“No, I can handle them. It’s you I’m worried about,” you said, deflecting.

He just rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the truck, rounding the front to open the door for you - something he typically didn’t do. Your mother was already out the door before you could even make it up the porch steps, pulling you in for a hug before giving Rhett a hug as well. Your dad stood against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face. What an interesting dinner this was going to be.

join the taglist!

taglist: @damrlova @bonitanightmxres @rosesvioletshardy @bradshawsbitch @sylviebell @callmemana @wkndwlff @yanna-banana @endofdays56 @bobfloydsbabe @lt-bradshaw @bigassnocash @lt-natrace @bradshawseresinbabe @mxgyver @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @pillow-titties

#call it what you want #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott series #outer range #outer range fanfiction #rhett x angel

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orangesand-lemons-234 · 3 months

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Race introducing Albert to his family:

Race: Yeah, we work pretty well as a team! We actually won 3rd in Trivia Night last week, y'know the one held down by the youth centre? Anyways, we were eliminated cause we got question 24 wrong, but that was definitely a trick question cause wh-

Albert: Racer, where's this story going, bud, and is it important to what we're talking about?

Race: Ah, alright, sorry, I'm doing it again. That was just gonna end with me rambling about the Ted films-

Jack, absolutely flabbergasted: ...did he just stop Race from rambling???

Crutchie: He did. He just did what we've been trying to do for 19 years with ease.

Buttons: Put this guy in glass and break it in case of emergencies.

#okay i know zach and jacob dont last #but this entire scene was just so ralbert coded #i cant explain it #newsies #uksies #incorrect quotes #newsies incorrect quotes #source: abbott elementary #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #jack kelly #buttons davenport #crutchie morris

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incorrect-moriarty-sherliam · 11 months

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William: I woke up and chose VIOLENCE. I WILL COMMIT ARSON AND BURN EVERYTHING TO THE GROUND!!! I AM ANGRY- Louis: Awwww, my brother is so adorable! William: Wh- What? NO, YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED OF ME! TREMBLE BEFORE MY WRATH- Albert *recording*: This is so cute.

#moriarty the patriot #incorrect moriarty the patriot

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thekingofny · 23 days

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Aye Síucra, just ta run it by ya, do not lay another hand on Poptarts or Kathy will strangle ya and take Mud and Dusty from us.

- @ask-albert-dasilva

Wh- not Dusty and Mud! They’s our babies! :((

#newsies rp #race answers‼️#ask race !!#rp account #newsies ask account

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ignify-caligo · 2 years

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Leon: Are you reading fan fiction?

Albert, reading an article about extremely rare diseases: Wh- No.

Leon: Oh, is it on AO3?

Albert: This is CNN, Kennedy.

#incorrect resident evil quotes #resident evil incorrect quotes #leon s kennedy #albert wesker #weskeon #re roommates #resident evil #biohazard #caligo incorrect quotes 2 #al trying to read in peace being disturbed by Leon fandom boi Kennedy /jk

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unagidevi · 1 year

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i havent been drawing too much but heres albert and kevin

#whs albert #ds kevin #ds nightmare #ds night

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brownhairedbookworm · 1 month

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Jack In, Monika.CHR, EXECUTE - 1: The Boys Are Back in Town

The year is 20X7. It has been six years since the capture of Dr. Albert Wily and his incarceration, and Net Crime has been on a slow decline ever since. With the WWW ceasing all operations and any remaining operatives going into hiding or joining more petty criminal organization, Net Society has been much more peaceful than usual.

In this new peace, one of the greatest Netbattle pairs on the planet have grown into young adults. Can they solve the dark mysteries behind a new set of friends?

"Comin' through, needed for an experiment!" A young man skates through the SciLab lobby, deftly dodging around the various visitors and scientists in his path. Lan Hikari is on his way upward into the Netbattle testing area.

"Elevator's on your right, Lan!" A voice comes from the blue device clipped to Lan's belt. MegaMan.EXE, Lan's NetNavi and battle brother, is as helpful as ever. "I'd say you'll find it in... About 10 more near collisions?" As helpful as ever, and as beleaguered as ever. Even after being partners for nearly Lan's entire life, the excitable young man in orange hasn't slowed down nearly as much as MegaMan would have hoped. "I know you're excited to see Dad, but it isn't like we're late for this."

"Aw, come on, Mega. I could never miss the chance to be a part of anything like this. Besides, I know you feel like we're getting rusty." Lan swiftly leaps across a railing to reach the elevator. He holds the blue PET up to the elevator's keypad. "Key's in your hands, MegaMan, get us in."

"Roger!" MegaMan tosses the ID data over to the keypad's data reader, and the elevator opens for the two of them. "And... I can't say you're wrong about me feeling rusty. But it's not like we're slacking on our NetBattle training."

Lan steps into the elevator. "It's the only class I'm acing, this year. But at least I'm not doing too bad at trig. The only class I'm really kinda bungling is-"

"Literature Analysis." MegaMan doesn't even hesitate. He may already have a file open showing Lan's grades.

Lan immediately twists the PET upward to see the screen. "MegaMan, come on, that class is awful."

"You should still put more effort into it. Interpreting art is part of being a more well-rounded human."

"I don't NEED to be a well-rounded human, I need to be a sharp, focused scientist." Lan nods down at his device's screen.

"Focused might still be a little far away..." MegaMan sighs.

"Wh- Hey, we're here to do an experiment with Dad, I can focus on that when we get up to the testing floor!" Lan grumbles. He folds his arms as he clips his PET back to his belt.

MegaMan rolls his eyes. "Once I'm jacked in and fighting, at least. Do you even remember what this test is supposed to be for?"

"Yeah. A new Navi type. Something about a test for easier synchro ratings between Navis and NetOps. Which makes us the perfect pair to test against!" Lan smirks proudly.

"I think it's more likely we're just on Dad's speed dial. Anyone else would probably say ProtoMan and-"

"Aaagh, don't even mention them. Somehow they're even more insufferable, ever since we got into high school."

"Protoman's the same as he's always been, and Jiyuu's not that bad. She's just more herself, now that she ditched her dad completely. Among the other obvious changes." MegaMan chuckles to himself. "I remember she started laughing about you calling her an 'egg' because of her old hairstyle, once she was out of the closet."

"...I used to be such a twerp with her. I'm mostly glad she forgave me for that. You think I've gotten better about... I dunno, social things, since then?" The elevator continues rising, leaving the brothers to their own devices for just a bit longer.

"You're better in some ways, but you'll always be yourself, Lan. Especially with your chronic impatience and addiction to rollerblading..."

"It's efficient."

"It's reckless, and you're lucky you haven't smashed me to pieces under your own power."

The elevator doors open, releasing Lan and MegaMan out into the Netbattle lab. "Yeah, yeah, you're in a bulletproof, elephant-proof case, you'll be fine. Hey, Dad, I'm here-?"

Well, that's a surprise. It seems that, today, the Netbattle lab...

...is full of incredibly cute girls!!

#drabble #as soon as I had that closer line I knew I had to end this there #Jack In

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frogmanfae · 9 months

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Newsies as Things I Heard This Week Part 2

(2 weeks late because I had to figure out how to divide it, a lot of things were said during week 2. 14 pages in my notes app to be exact)

Medda: When I see you shlep your way down- it's a word yeah and you shouldn't be doing it

Medda, teaching an orchestra class: You're using your middle finger which I know we don't always use- and you shouldn't

Race and Romeo: *SIDE EYE*

Davey: Yes, you can take all the blood and puke- that- that is all you, my friend. Go for it I... It is no longer my responsibility I don't want it

Medda, still in the context of a string orchestra class: I notice that some of you aren't always rosining your bows before we play, we should be doing that every time we play. I haven't been holding you accountable lately but I'm going to be a Rosin nazi this year

Davey: Wh- huh?? A what??

Jack: *trying (and failing) to not snort laugh*

Race, a self acclaimed fashion expert: What the hell are you wearing?

Romeo: A T-shirt

Race: But what is on it

Romeo: An axolotl

Race: A fuckin-

Romeo: It says you axolotl questions!

Race: ...

Romeo: Like- like you ask a lot of-

Race: No I get it I'm just trying to remember why I hang out with you

Race: He's like my favorite kid

Race: He wants to be a professional soccer player but he also likes marine biology

Davey: Oh and you also like both of those things

Race: Right exactly

Race, to Albert: Okay so Goldie Locks's parents were kidnapped by the bear mafia and then she broke into that house because she wanted to find her parents but she got sidetracked by food and comfy places to sit and nap because she's a kid

Spot, just walking in: What the fu-

Albert: *laughing hysterically*

Spot: No. No seriously what did I just walk into? What is this? What about Goldie Locks? Bear Mafia?? Huh???

Race: Does anyone wanna go to my locker with me so I can take Advil? I don't wanna go alone :(

Davey: *big sigh* I'll go

Sarah: Why are you walking like you just got ate out so good you can't-

Davey: wh- Do you have experience with that??

Sarah: ...

Sarah: Listen-

Davey: OH MY FUCKING GOD I WAS KIDDING WHAT-

Crutchie: So it's basically icy hot but for horses-

Davey: You should absolutely not be using anything meant for horses

Crutchie: But like it's stronger-

Davey: Which is why you shouldn't use it

Crutchie: But it works better because its stronger

Davey: ... No

Albert: *big wheeze of despair*

Race: ... Girl are you okay?

Albert, not even looking up at being called girl: I just dropped my croutons everywhere!! I'm gonna fucking- where's the nearest window?

Race: buddy we're on the first floor

Albert: FUCK

Davey, who gets chronic migraines: Ugh I'm in pain

Sarah: *holds up the L for Loser on her forehead*

Davey: Ah!

Davey: :0

Davey: You're!

Davey: a lesbian!

Sarah, as if she's never heard this information: :00

Race: I go through that shit like that one senior guy goes through the freshmen before he turns 18

Davey: HELP OH MY GOD STOP WHAT THE-

Race: *shrugs and continues on* It got my point across

Race, who will play sports but not watch them: Do you ever notice how people watch professional sports and after the final call they're like "we won!!!"

Albert, an avid sportsball watcher: Uh yeah?

Race: Like, dude. You sat on the couch and ate Doritos for 2 hours. There is no *we* here.

Oscar: *cleaning sports equipment in the distance*

Elmer, giggling from across the room: What is he-

Buttons, also giggling: He is just- He is stroking those balls like... Like his life depends on it damn-

Elmer: *giggles worse* he just loves stroking tgose- oh shit he spotted us- go!! Go go go go gogogogogogog-

Spot: The only tenor in my choir class is-

Race: Your brother! And your boyfrienddd! And brother...

Albert: ... Same person?

Race, sadly: ... Yeah...

Jack: *the person in question, neither Spot's brother nor his boyfriend*

Spot: Oh my god stop posting on my private story!

Race: It's funny-

Spot: No it's not and I want you dead !!!

Crutchie: Ugh I wanna chop off my body

Jack: like

Jack: the whole thing?

Crutchie: yeah the whole thing. Ill find a way to make it possible

Spot (trans): let me know when you do

Crutchie: *shakes his hand* will do my guy

Race: I wanna go hooommmmeee!

Spot: No one cares

Race: :0 you're so mean!!!

Davey: it's okay Race

Davey: I care

Race: Davey I love you

Davey: There's a cafe named after John Snow, the scientist not the game of thrones guy, and it has a water pump sorta monument outside because he was the one to say that the cholera outbreak was caused by bacteria not air-

Race: Do the food options have punny names?

Jack: Like- like what?

Race: I dunno- cholera flower? (Cauliflower)

Albert: STOPP THAT'S SO GROSS BUT SO FUNNY I'M GONNA THROW UP

Katherine: You're thinking way too futuristic. We didn't have that kind of understanding of the infectious agent during this outbreak, it was in the early 1800s. You have to think like we're in the early 1800s-

Jack: *joking* Then you shouldn't be talking

Katherine: :0

Jack: You shouldn't even be in this class! It's science!

Katherine: :00

Jack: Woman!

Katherine: :000

Race: I am about to mangle your face and your body here

Spot: Thanks for the heads up

Davey: I LOST MY FUCKING WORDLE STREAK ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WHAT THE FUCK

Race: Oh my god calm down it is not that big of a deal-

Davey: IT WAS A 218 DAY STREAK

Race: NEVER MIND THAT'S TRAGIC WHAT THE FUCK

Davey: I KNOW

Romeo: I have 3 study halls this year it's glorious

Specs: You are not going to have enough credits to graduate

Romeo: That's a later me problem

Specs: You're a junior, you don't want to spend your senior cramming credi-

Romeo: Shhhh future problem

Specs: *long blink*

#newsies #newsies as things I've heard this week #this is only half of it from week 2 #david jacobs #jack kelly #lots of race in this one #he's just so easy to fit into these

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smolvenger · 1 year

Text

Miss Narracott and The Captain, Part Two (Captain James Nicholls x fem! Reader Miniseries)

Summary: It is 1912. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Link to Part One

Fandom: War Horse

Chapter Word Count: 6K

Chapter Warnings: Some angst and some fluff. Light Slow Burn. Mrs. Narracott being badass. I turn Lyons from Neutral Jerk to Mustache twirling villain. Because it's my fic and I can do what I want. References to lines and scenes from the movie. Nicholls is an angel. Some references to violence.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Comments, Reblogs, DMs, and Asks about my work are always appreciated! Thank you!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp

Spring, 1912

This whole past week you did not see Captain Nicholls back at the shop. He likely had business. You wished to enquire what soldiers were doing here…but it was peacetime. And that was being quite nosy.

A farm never really had a weekend. But Saturday was the only day you could sleep in just a little. Dad insisted that for you.

“Come on, Y/N! I need help with the laundry!” mum called out from the yard.

“Coming in a bit!” you called back from the chair.

You had been repairing clothes that had tears. So far, it looked like Dad’s working pants were decent. Setting down your needle and thread in the basket by your feet, you walked out. As you entered the laundry area, you heard Joey mimicking an owl’s hoot. Both of you jumped and looked around.

“Oh, for goodness' sake!” Mum yelped as she checked around her.

Albert had trained Joey to trot up to him at the sound of it and the horse would bolt from wherever he was. Heaven help whoever was walking about at the same time Joey pranced in the yards! Everyone had to jump out of the way as Joey would hurry to Albert’s call.

But no, you did not worry about getting run over by a horse this time. Both Albert and Joey were standing in the field. They were in the circled off ground before the stable.

Mum lifted a white shirt from the basket of washed clothes. She put it on the line. You found another and did the same.

“Y/N, I want to have a little chat with you…it’s easier to chat when you’re doing laundry, …” Mum announced.

Nervousness soured your bowels. She glanced out at your brother. He went to the stable and retrieved the plow. Then she turned to you.

“You do know I love both of you,” she said.

“Of course, we do!”

“Your father and I tried our best to teach you some good lessons. And there’s one lesson I see Albert applying all the time, but I’ve yet to see it from you…”

You tilted your head as you found a wet apron that needed to dry.

“What do you mean?” you asked as you pinned it up.

Mum went over and cupped your cheek, looking into your eyes.

“Y/N, you cannot keep sacrificin’ yourself for others. Getting a job for all of us is very noble, and yes it has helped…but you cannot keep silencin’ yourself or what you think…I don’t think you really wanted to give all your wages to us…”

“I don’t mind the work, mama, I don’t! And that’s why I got it- to support everyone!” you replied.

She glanced at a dry bedsheet that was pinned up.

“Of course, you don’t. But, let me tell you something…”

She gestured for you to get to the other end. Freeing it from pins, both of you walked forward to fold it up.

“If there’s one thing, I teach you and Albert, it’s this! Everyone all your life will try to tell you what you should think, what you should do!” she guided.

“Why aren’t you telling both of us, then?” you questioned.

“As I said- I see Albert doing it and you not! I know why- I know you’re a woman in this world! I know what they teach us. I’ve been through it when I was your age too, don’t think I did not!” she explained.

She folded the bedsheet sideways and up, placing it in an empty basket.

“But what if it’s a situation where it's not polite to?” you asked.

“I love that you’re a polite girl, Y/N. No shame in good manners or treatin’ others good. There are plenty of times for politeness. Then there are the other times… if someone’s threatenin' or hurtin' you-politeness ain’t always gonna work! You got to fight back!” she said.

“Fight back…” you repeated as you hung up one of your blouses to dry.

“You cannot let others tell you what should or shouldn’t make you happy. And you shouldn’t sacrifice your own self for others all the time. Soon there won’t be anything of you left to sacrifice! You must stand up for yourself, Y/N! Speak your own mind! And tell others what it is you want, especially if they don’t agree with you!”

She got down another dry shirt and pinned it up.

“They tell us to do this or that. I’m sure even the King of England has to do what he’s told sometimes! But as a woman, they’ll try and pressure you to do what pleases them and not yourself! All the time! Y/N…you got to insist on what you want, what you think!”

Albert put the reins on Joey and led him out to the bottom field, vanishing from vision.

“They always tell us women to cut ourselves into bits to make others happy. And I’m telling you, Y/N- don’t! Don’t let them!” mum ordered.

The chickens clucked in the next yard over. The goose crawled under the fence and explored the horse-free circle of grass. You took down a dry sock to fold it.

“Their opinion, what if it…”

“You don’t have an opinion too? Why should anyone else’s matter but theirs? Unless you realize yours is downright stupid!” mum cried.

You chuckled.

“I guess you’re right…”

She put an arm on your shoulder.

“Whatever you think will make you happy…we’ll support you. Albie, Dad, and I…” she promised.

You pressed the sock into your chest. Letting out a deep sigh, you confided to her.

“I haven’t figured out what, I guess…haven’t found my place. I wondered if I could work at the shop for the rest of my life. I...I confess I even wondered about marrying rich! It would help everyone. But that won’t happen, not in Devon. I think I might spend my spinster days here…”

“You don’t have to marry if you don’t want to. I’d rather see you a happy spinster than a miserable wife, Y/N!”

The goose wandered in to nibble at your mother’s petticoat. Mum shooed him away.

“I think I’d like to fall in love. Fall in genuine, real love, have it work out, and marry someday…” you confessed.

“You always were the romantic, girl! If you do marry, it better be for love. I’d want a good man who’ll love you over a rich man any day!” mum responded.

“But I…I don’t know if I want to leave…not yet…” you continued.

The goose went over to the basket and sniffed at it with his orange beak. She opened her arms and let you hug her.

“Then stay here, my dear girl, and figure it out…but don’t let some people order you about just ‘cause you’re a woman! Ain’t nothin’ that makes foolish men quiver like seeing a woman happy on her own terms!”

You smiled as you looked up at her. She pressed a kiss to your forehead before you continued your laundry. You noticed the goose walking under the fence. He began waddling about the yard. He found dad going about his chores and nipped at the ends of his pants. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · That Sunday, you did see Captain Nicholls at church. Many of the new soldiers had come in, filling up the pews with young men. He was not in uniform but in his three-piece suit and tie. And beside him was another gentleman with a mustache. You wished to speak to him, but your family scuttled in when the service began. As everyone gathered hymnals and sang, you eyed him. He let out a smile and a nod of acknowledgment. You did so back. Once the service ended with the final amen, the crowd broke. As you went up to chat with your friends, you noticed Nicholls went up to you between the pews.

“Oh! Y/N…there you are!” he greeted.

“You remember my name?�� you asked.

“Oh, of course!” Nicholls said.

“Is this your first church service here? Do you like it?” you asked.

“Yes, indeed! It’s excellent! The choir sounded lovely- never heard one like it! I’ve shaken two dozen hands already. Complete with tea invitations. I’m sure my colleagues can say the same,” he said.

Yes, dozens of families and couples were welcoming the new soldiers in town. The young men were nodding next to the bright eyes and wide smiles of old people who were thrilled at newcomers.

“Nothing like a first church visit to make you feel famous!” you commented.

“Though I confess I would like it more if they had a picnic. I’m quite hungry,” Nicholls said.

“Oh, we have our share of picnics!” you assured him.

“Mrs. Collins promised me a welcome basket next week with her own famous bread, even!” he said, pointing her out.

The very old lady, next to her equally old husband, was shaking the hand of the mustachioed soldier.

“We could spare a few of the crops and eggs. It’s not much of a welcoming basket, but it’s something,” you offered.

“Crops? Are you from a farming family?” he asked.

Mouth frowning a little, you nodded.

“I’m a farmer’s daughter,” you confirmed.

You knew Nicholls was several stations above you. He had a genteel occupation versus the lowly farming Narracotts. Some of the upper-class people you met in the past were polite, but arrogant in their knowledge of who held the upper hand.

Nicholls was neither. His face remained soft and smiling. If he had any bad opinions about you, it was hidden.

“I think any welcoming basket is better than none! Especially with some grown, natural produce fresh from the ground! I would enjoy it…and the horse. If I recall correctly, there are horses with your family?”

“On our-our farm? The horse-oh-we call him Joey! I barely mentioned him!” you remembered.

“You said your brother had a horse, Miss Narracott! I am dearly fond of the creatures myself if you haven’t guessed from the sketchbook,” he added.

“I should hate to be repetitive, but perhaps you should come over for tea and see Joey- a beautiful, beautiful horse! He’s gentle for the most part unless he hears a commotion, or the mood fancies him!”

“Then I shall be glad to, Miss,” he replied.

He then said his goodbyes and left. But where on earth was your family? It was far too crowded today. You already made your rounds to greet your friends who went here. You began to head outside the doors.

Though as you left for the entrance, who did you run into, but the Landlord. His red, walrus mustache looked combed today. Overdressed in his black and white plaid coat and waistcoat, not a surprising fashion choice for him. He held his bowler hat in one hand. You saw attached to his waistcoat an ornate, golden pocket watch dangling. He picked it up and examined the time and then turned his head to you. Steps skidding out of bumping into where he stood.

“Oh- I’m sorry, Mr. Lyons!” you excused.

Feet shuffling backward, you bowed your head. He turned to see you.

“None taken! Only glad the service ended on time for once! But you did nothing at all wrong,” he said. He spoke with warmth. Not like when he discussed matters of rent with your father.

“Mr. Lyons how are you today?” you asked.

“I am well. And may I say, you do look radiant today, Miss Narracott. Is that a new dress you have on today?” he asked.

Something about the way he was smiling at you felt wrong. It was too wide. Too friendly. Too...nice. You glanced down at your dress. Attempting some form of modesty though you were entirely covered with hat, dress, and gloves.

“Just a hand-me-down from mum’s family,” you responded.

“Lovely on you all the same.”

It struck you that though he did have a wife, she died long ago. And the mourning period was long since over, which meant…

Slight panic gripped your turning stomach. Dear Sweet Jesus- the man was actually flirting with you! You held your gloved hands. But, considering that he had money and a higher station…was he using his position to do what he wanted? How crude! What would your family think?

For now, you only smiled, gripping your hands tighter.

“Mr. Lyons, I thank you for your generous compliment. And I hope your son is well too. Though I am afraid I must leave- there are still chores to finish back home,” you excused.

“Ah, so Sunday is no day of rest?”

“No, it is not,” you confirmed.

You wished you could have added “thanks to your prices!” at the end of that. But you bit your tongue instead.

You dipped your head and left. Despite the familiar faces you passed, your mind spiraled elsewhere. Questioning if this was reality or some odd dream you had. You caught mum gossiping with some friends. Dad and Albert were behind her. Dad turned to you.

“Hey- there you were! Was bout wonderin’ if you vanished, Y/N! Ah- let’s head home, girl,” he greeted.

As the four of you began walking, you kept your head down. Replaying the moment with Mr. Lyons a dozen times.

“You got a troubled look about you. What is it?” Albert asked in your ear. He slowed his pace to meet yours.

“I’ll tell you when we’re alone…” you said. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · “Flirting!” cried Albert.

After some chores, you two would go for a walk outside. Especially on a sunny day like today. It was the hour you and Albert could discuss anything. Especially without snooping, overhearing parents.

It was a day that had gentle sunlight as it glided across the sky. The breeze was cool, but slight. The green grass swept through eternity like a green ocean. Tall blue mountains rose from the ground a distance away, kissing the blue sky above you. In the distance from the hill, the town looked so small. One could crush the church bell tower with their thumb and forefinger. You could even see the blue line of the river stretch out from your view. The forest skittered away, keeping the town and hills snug like it was a wall. They went on forever until they vanished to the horizon. Across the green fields, hundreds of white sheep grazed about for their Sunday lunch of fresh spring grass. Ignoring the whistles of their shepherds to feast and bleat about each other. The church bells pealed the hour from far away, but it echoed up here.

This time your company had a third party. Albert held Joey by the reigns as he walked. But the horse’s ears did perk towards you as if this interested him as well.

“I could have sworn it, yes…” you answered.

“Well, what do you think of him?” Albert asked.

“Mr. Lyons is…prosperous. He…you see how he runs things. It’s not fair dad doesn’t pay his rent. It’s not fair he wants to take our Joey too. But it’s what Lyons has to live on. That’s how his occupation works," you replied. It could be worse.

Joey brushed his lips as if in dismissal of his potential owner.

“But, Y/N, do you like him?” Albert asked.

You paused.

“Not really.”

You looked down at the town below. Birds sang their carefree songs over your head. You noted a few blue wildflowers.

“Lyons has a son, doesn’t he?” you asked.

“Yes- David’s his name!” Albert responded.

You bent down and began picking a few. You put them in your apron pocket and then went up and looked at Albert.

“Every meeting that boy stands there. Doesn’t even do anything! He just sneers at everyone all the time!” you commented.

“Andrew calls him air-nose! Cause his nose is always in the air, the big snob!” Albert teased.

He mimicked the gesture with a perfect sneer. You smiled. But then your original idea caught you. You put a hand in your pocket to touch the flowers as your smile faded with your words.

“How old’s David?”

“Fifteen-Same as me,” Albert replied.

So that meant Lyons was old enough to be your father. You let out a sigh.

“Maybe it was just flirting and he'll move on and forget it. Maybe it’s my imagination…” you dismissed.

Joey flicked his tail behind him. Albert kept one hand to pat his long snout.

“If it ain’t, don’t worry, Y/N. If he or any old goat ever tries something funny with you, tell me. I don’t care if he owns the place or not. I’ll box his ear off!”

“Thank you!” you wished.

You stopped to pet Joey, gently touching his long, copper neck. Grateful the horse was now used to you and softened at your touch.

“And please train Joey to kick him. Hard,” you added.

“You bet!” Albert laughed.

Your brother stopped petting his horse to give you a half-hug. Then you both continued walking your path. Your skirt grazed past some long grass and floated in the breeze with it. Noticing another bunch of pretty wildflowers, you both paused to gather some up and put them in your apron pocket.

“So, Y/N I finally got a name for Goose- Harold! What do you think? Fits him, doesn’t it!” Albert announced.

“He definitely looks like a Harold to me!” you agreed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Summer, 1912.

It was a hot July day. Still hot as your shift ended and you left. Grateful for the breeze as you left town and walked up the hill to home. Much to your surprise, you saw two horses before the stone fence you did not recognize. One was a speckled one that chewed on dandelions. The other was an intimidating black stallion that shook its mane and kicked the grass.

As you opened the gate, Albert came running up.

“Y/N! Y/N! We have guests! Guests for tea!” he cried.

“Who?”

“These fellows- soldiers! They were watchin' the lands on duty! Then they found our farm and stopped by! One says he knows you!”

“What!?” you cried.

You immediately walked inside. There was your mother just putting the kettle on.

But there he was, Captain Nicholls, still in uniform. Sitting right at your table! And next to him was the gentleman with a mustache. As you walked closer, you saw the mustachioed man take off his hat. He was only barely shorter than Captain Nicholls. You took note more of his appearance- he had dark hair, as opposed to Nicholl’s auburn hair. But both had high cheekbones.

“Oh- more company!” replied the mustachioed man.

But Nicholls himself stood up, as did his companion.

“Miss Narracott! We’re glad you’re here in time!” Nicholls greeted.

“We’re glad to have you- both of you!” you replied.

Your head turned to the gentleman.

“And may I have an introduction, please?” the gentleman asked.

He smiled and then reached for a handshake.

“Stewart. Major Jaimie Stewart,” he introduced himself.

“Miss Y/N Narracott, pleased to meet you.”

The kettle boiled, the leaves brewed, and tea was served. Father even came in to talk. Everyone sipped as everyone began to question the two soldiers. They didn’t brag about their triumphs in battle. They spoke of their daily lives.

“Fell off him! Then the horse only galloped away! I fell right on my bum in front of our general- there!” Steward finished.

Even Dad laughed. He got out a pipe and lit it.

“So, tell us, where do you fellows both come from? Your families?” he asked.

“Parents both fell ill and died when I was a child,” Stewart explained.

You set down your white and blue porcelain cup.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you commented.

“I was raised by my aunt and uncle in London. I had a small family. But that’s not the case for Jim, here!” Stewart said.

He patted Nicholl’s back. He smiled, his eyes bright as he explained.

“I was born in Somerset. My mother was once a pianist and would still give lessons in the town and play at church. Father is a lawyer, but he had a soft spot for books and plays. They met at a little theatre club- she would play piano, and he would act. I’m the oldest of five brothers and sisters.”

“Five!” you cried. It was a lot to have just one, headstrong brother!

“You get quite used to it! We still write to each other all the time!” he replied with a small laugh.

You then smiled.

“I bet it was quite busy!” Mum said. She went to the kitchen and pulled out biscuits on a plate.

“Yes, indeed it was!” He replied.

Nicholls then accepted a biscuit and put it on his saucer. It was the plainer kind. The cheaper kind. He bit into it but showed no grimace. Stewart helped himself to two.

“Sorry it’s not much, we weren’t expecting company…” mum apologized.

“Oh, not at all! These are very good!” said Nicholls.

“You do make an excellent tea as well, Mrs. Narracott,” Major Stewart complimented.

She beamed at them as she finished her drink. Then mum began to return everyone’s cups to the kitchen.

“Now that we’ve had tea, may I see the horse, please?” Nicholls asked.

The soldiers, your brother, and you all walked out to the field. Albert opened the stable door and out trotted the horse.

“Joeys got a brushin’ today! Shiny as a smile on a weddin’, he is!” Albert bragged.

“Leave him to Jim, here. He’s the expert!” Stewart said.

“Yes, I’d love to look at him!” Nicholls added.

Out to the small field, guarded by the stone fence. There Joey stood, eating grass and brushing his tail.

“Ah-here he is!” Albert pointed out.

He put his hands to his mouth and let out the owl call.

“Gentlemen-watch out!” you warned the soldiers. You put out an arm to keep them back.

Joey’s ears picked up. Thankfully he didn’t break into an overexcited gallop. Only a cheerful prance. Nicholls walked forward to the horse. He offered out a hand. You wondered if Joey’s head would buck or make a sudden reaction. He did none. He allowed Nicholls to pet his muzzle. He smiled as he studied the horse- his eyes and his shape.

“He’s an excellent fellow. Very fine!” Nicholls praised.

“Nowhere near Topthorn,” muttered Stewart.

He looked down at the horses’ feet and then the teeth. How touching to see such an excitable being would be calm in the presence of this man. Allowing for gentle pats without resistance.

“Does he ride?” Nicholls asked.

“Not yet- almost there. Got to teach him to plow, is all!” Albert explained.

Not is all. He had to. All bets were on this animal. If he failed, there would be no more of the home you knew for so long. You and your family would have to beg relatives to squeeze you in. Or beg on the streets…

“He’s going to make a fine plow horse we…we hope…” you finished.

The two men turned to you.

“Hope?” repeated Stewart.

You nodded. Tears welled in your eyelids.

“The Landlord says he’ll take the farm and horse too if Joey’s unable to plow the crops for our rent…excuse me…” you said, feeling the sadness overwhelm you.

You turned around, taking three steps away. You began wiping tears with your hand and sleeve. Then you looked up and saw Nicholls offering a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Here, Miss Narracott,” he said.

You accepted it and began to wipe it off. You turned back around. Albert let go of the reins to let Joey trot around.

“My sister was always the worrier-but she’ll be grinnin' and laughin' in no time! Why? Because Joey is perfectly able to! He’s almost there!” Albert declared.

Stewart folded his arms and looked up and down the horse.

“He definitely has the strength to. how is he doing?” he asked.

“Just won’t move, sir- just trots around the bottom field. Or stands. He doesn’t like the plow on ‘im, sir. But I noticed somethin’- he likes it when I imitate things! He ate oats after I’d pretend to eat ‘em!” Albert explained.

Both Nicholls and Stewart returned to the horse. Joey stopped to snack on some grass.

“If he won’t move, try a bit of the horsewhip. Just a light touch. It will keep him moving,” Nicholls advised Albert.

Stewart looked around.

“Where does he have to plow?” he asked.

“The bottom field,” you replied, pointing that way.

The four of you walked there. It was a long, large field with dead grass and filled with rocks. How pitiful and impossible it seemed to you. Stewart leaned down to the ground, inspecting the dirt.

“Don’t you think if there’s water, it’ll be better? Make mud, make the blade move!” Stewart suggested.

“Well-did you hear that, Albie! Those are good ideas!” you said.

Albert nodded.

“Will keep them in, sir!” he vowed.

“Well, we’ve overstayed our time! Should we start going back, Jim?” Stewart asked.

“Of course, we should!” Nicholls replied.

Stewart went back inside with Albert to say his goodbyes. But still outside, gazing at the rocky field, Nicholls turned to you.

“Don’t fret about it, Miss Narracott,” he said.

You returned his handkerchief, which he placed in his breast pocket.

“I’m so sorry for crying in front of you officers,” you mumbled.

“There is no need for shame, Miss. You’re in a frightening position,” he comforted.

“I’m afraid…we’ll lose our home, our life…” you added on.

“Joey is more than capable of plowing. He has the ability- Albert just has to train him in the right way. He must figure out what works.”

“I just think sometimes my life’s slipping away from me and I can’t do anything about it,” you confessed.

The chickens passed the front yard, clucking away. The wind whistled in your ears, cooling you from the sun.

“Do you know of any way you can help Albert?” Nicholls asked.

You blinked.

“I could…I could pick up on some of the chores Albie does. I can feed the chickens more and check on Joey’s stable for water and food. To buy him time to train. It isn’t much…” you sighed.

Nicholls smiled at you.

“It will make a difference. That will make you feel better. And in control.”

“Thank you, Captain…for the handkerchief, your words, everything,” you said.

Both of you began to walk back inside. The gentlemen put their caps back on their heads.

“When are Albert and Joey going to continue to try plowing?” Stewart asked.

“Tomorrow morning. Starting at dawn,” you answered.

“Then…by all means, if we can be there to help, we shall!” Nicholls promised. · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · You hurried from work back home. You had to see how plowing was going- you had to. But to your great surprise when there was a crowd of people already at your property. And normally you weren’t used to massive company on your lands! Men and women, rich and poor and between, old people and little children, all gathered to see the field. They leaned against the fence that protected the bottom field. They were watching the attempted plowing like a circus!

Albert was right there with Joey. He put on a mock plow like the one around his horse. Albert’s shirt was drenched with sweat. If they began at dawn, they must have been at it for hours by now. Joey was not motivated to run. The horse stopped. The crowd all began to gossip, stare, jeer, and cheer. Some were even taking bets among them, swapping prices for if the field got plowed or not.

“Come on…come on- the whip!” you urged.

Albert used a whip and that made Joey move. He trotted forward. The blade moved across the field. But it only dug a few inches. Not deep.

Then Joey stopped.

In the back, you saw dad and Lyons sitting on a rock, watching. Lyons turned to your father.

“I’ll give you a day to gather everything even, make the arrangements…” the landlord reasoned.

You scowled, but only gripped the fence tighter than say anything. Then you ran forward to the shed and retrieved a water can, still heavy with water.

Walking out to the field, you watered the ground before the blade. Then you turned to Albert and Joey.

“Here…it should help…Albie, cup your hand, you need it!” You offered.

You already smelt the stench of labor from your brother. He cupped his hand and drank. Cupping your own palm, you offered the water to Joey. You noticed the sweat on the horse’s coat too. He lapped his large tongue on your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile at the tickling sensation.

“I can keep pumping from the spout- just holler!” you offered.

You dumped the rest of the water in a path before the plow blade.

Looking around the crowd. You heard that most were cheering the two of them on.

“Go on, Albert! You can do it! Come on- you can do it!” they shouted.

When you looked in the group, sure enough, you saw Stewart. Nicholls was right beside him. Still in uniform from being on duty. Nicholls then turned to you.

“Miss! How are you- how was work?” he asked.

“Very boring compared to this! But look!” You pointed.

The blade sunk better into the ground you managed to water. It was a little, but better than nothing. You heard a couple of claps and whistles.

“Your ideas- they’re working!” you thanked Stewart.

As Albert brought on the whip. He cracked it a little harder. It made Joey trot forward for a minute. But he was still struggling- it was difficult, rocky land. You noticed this time the horse was struggling- he was using his strength to the weight of the plow. Perhaps it was too heavy for him in the first place!

“Oh, dear god, I cannot stand it!” you cried.

Your house, your future, everything was on this! Nicholls then looked at you.

“Then you know what to do- keep watering the ground, Miss Narracott!” he reasoned.

“But…”

“Consider this an order from a captain,” he added.

You nodded.

“Then yes, Captain Nicholls, I will…”

You then ran to the pump in the front yard. You put the can under the spout and began to pump out water. Your movements were quick and desperate. Your family’s life depended on it. Nearby was a bucket empty of chicken feed. You added it below and pumped water into it for good measure. You were grunting from the effort. You were sweating and the bottom of your work skirt was dirty- but did that matter at that moment? Dirt could wash off later.

“It’s heavy- here- would you like help?” Nicholls offered, walking up.

“Yes…I would- carry it out to the field and back, that’s all!” you pleaded.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Narracott!"

He followed you out and both of you watered the ground near the blade of the plow. As you backed off, sure enough, Joey moved under Albert’s whip and the blade dug. Some dark clouds gathered above you. Many stopped squinting from the shade.

Then once it got to dryer ground, it was harder to go through. Joey struggled to move the plow, neighing with the effort. The crowd was beginning to disperse. There was a smirk on Lyons's face. How you wished you could strike him and wipe it off! You grabbed your skirts and frowned.

But as a few people walked away- some stayed. There was Si Easton and his son, Andrew- your closest neighbor and Albert’s oldest friend. A few optimistic locals. Lyons, David, their servant, and the motorcar. Stewart and Nicholls remained, their faces both white. Your feet screamed for you to sit after work, but you were frozen in place. Dad slumped as he sat on his rock. Mum ran out, her knitting still gripped in her hand. It felt as if your fate was sealed when…

There was a boom of thunder. You looked up. The dark clouds covered the sky. There was a first putter of drops. Lyons and his son fled to their motorcar for shelter. You looked at the two soldiers.

“I’ll fetch some umbrellas- we have two!” you suggested.

You ran and got them out, already your legs were tired from all the dashing about. You handed the umbrellas to them.

“Here, stand with us- where it’s dry,” Nicholls offered.

“Thank you,” you replied.

He held the umbrella and opened it. You were grateful for the shelter. Rain pelted from above against the umbrellas. You stood next to Nicholls as Stewart began to cup his hands to cheer.

It then hit you how close you both were to Nicholls. Too close for just a brushing of clothes. He could touch you with his bare hands. You felt warm and shaky and nervous. Your stomach burst into a hundred butterflies dallying about in your guts. You glanced at him as he looked at the field. How handsome his profile was- a triangular nose, thick lashes, pink lips. You could smell the sun from his uniform. Then you forced your eyes forward. You remained standing.

Stewart then shouted.

“COME ON, ALBERT! JOEY! NOW! Now while it’s wet! Look!”

Albert looked around. The ground was moistened by the rain. And movable.

With a determined shout, Albert gave the whip another crack. Joey broke into a gallop. You gasped-the blade cut through the ground like a knife cutting chocolate cake.

It was getting plowed properly. Joey kept running. Some shouted at him to avoid the bigger rocks. But they shouted in vain. The blade cut clean through the biggest rocks on the field!

The leaving crowd then returned. They whistled and broke into applause that rivaled the thunder. Men tossed their caps into the air and caught them. Joey kept running, Albert behind, cheering along. Dad was smiling- the biggest smile you had seen in ages. No one seemed to care about the rainstorm drenching them. Lyons pursed his lips beneath his red mustache. His servant held his umbrella once he left his motorcar, jaw hung low. Mum clutched her knitting to her heart and grinned.

You broke from the umbrella and ran to give her a hug. She hugged you back.

‘He…he did it…the bottom fields going to have crops! It’s getting plowed!” you cried.

“Oh, you helped them- that’s my girl and my boy- that’s both of you!”

“I’m so relieved, mum!”

“So am I!”

You ran to the rock, taking dad’s hands.

“It’s plowed! It’s plowed!” you cheered.

“It’s plowed! And I’ll need help seedin’ it! Might as well start after the storm!” he said, blinking as rain pelted him.

With a laugh, you hugged your father and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll help you dad- be glad to!”

Glancing back, you saw the soldiers smiling. They walked forward, offering shelter from the umbrellas.

“As I said- he’s a fine, strong horse,” Nicholls said.

“You were right Captain, thank you.” You replied.

“Then we’ll see you about. Give Albert our congrats,” Stewart said.

They returned the umbrellas, which you held with both hands. Nicholls smiled at you as he tipped his cap and left with the Major. Your mother returned to the fence to watch, clutching her knitting in one hand. She did not care for the wet strands of hair blowing in her face.

Lyons, his servant holding his umbrellas at his heels, approached her.

“I’d not let a child of mine slip in the mud alongside a plow blade. He could lose a foot!”

Mum turned to him. With the fury of an ancient goddess, she aimed the sharp knitting needles at Lyons. Both Lyons and the servant backed off. You couldn’t help but keep smiling.

“You’ll likelier lose an eye, Mr. Lyons, if you carry on prating at me how to manage my son! Or my family Or my plow or my horse or my field or my farm!”

She ran back to the gate. You opened one umbrella for both of you. But she kept, running out of the way of the shelter. Cheering on boy and horse.

“Come on Albie! Push on through!” she yelled.

You glanced back at Lyons from beneath the umbrellas.

“You will listen to her. She’ll do it.” You added on.

“I’ll say this- the Narracott men are stubborn fools, but at least the women have some sense in them- both of them,” Lyons replied.

He tipped his hat and smiled, still watching from his window as the motorcar drove off. You tried to keep your eyes on the field finally getting plowed at last. Though to how much he was looking at the field or looking at you, you’d rather not think about.

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