heard, I confess. So why are you here now?” He found himself falling in beside her as she strode out toward the next big rock. “We need glue. And good stitching. One of our main pulleys is about to go.” When she picked up a rock, James got an even larger one and they both headed back to the rock pile. “I went to the house, but found no one.”
They dropped their rocks and walked out for more. “Who do you think has the best glue in town?” He stooped to pick up another. “I tried the general store, but he is out of it. The storekeeper suggested I ask the neighbours around, to see who’s been making glue recently.” They picked a few more stones and headed for the rock pile.
“I think we have some somewhere, left over from last year.” She dropped her rock on to the pile.
“I also need some sturdy material to stitch onto the main belt.” They returned for more stones, their movements forming a rhythmical pattern as they laboured under the almost clear sky.
“I think we may have some stitching also.” She stooped for another stone. “So you can sew? I have a hole in one of my blouses...”
“Send it along! James Alford, tailor and profiteer!” He picked up a heavy rock and hefted it back to the stone pile. “How long ago did your family clear this?” He meant, of course, clear the land of trees.
“Before I was born. But every time we plough, we turn up more rocks. I don’t know where they all come from. This field is the worst. Too busy to clear it this last while, what with all the work over on our other land.”
“You do a lot of this?”
She nodded. “Even little Eleanor picks stones, the smaller ones, but she’s needed at home to help Mama.” They brought several more stones back to the pile. “I suppose this work you’re doing with me means you expect to be invited to eat once again...”
He glanced at her, to divine her intent: teasing him? Or being nasty. “No expectations.” But then he added quickly, “Lots of hopes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” James kept silent.
She went on: “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.”
They worked on in silence. After a bit James asked, “So when is the wedding?”
“Not sure.”
Was that a glimmer of hope? “Billy will be a very lucky man. I hope he is worthy of you.”
“I think it’s more a question of — will I be worthy of him?”
“Ridiculous!” James said. “Who thinks that?”
“Everyone. They don’t see me, I’m afraid, the way you do.”
“And how do I see you?” James teased.
She remained silent.
“All right, so how do they see you?”
“Too headstrong. I won’t put up with balderdash!”
“Oh-oh, I’d better watch out.” At the same time, Catherine grew in his estimation. Working hard on the farm, doing a man’s work, and even now, able to divine his inner feelings. Don’t give up any pursuit right now, he told himself, as the glue and stitching went right out of his mind.
“Oh, for that,” Catherine interrupted, “use the rock sled. It’s up there in the corner.”
“All right.” He trotted off, got the sled, manhandled the heavy stone onto it and hauled it across to the pile. When he rejoined her, he said, “The way I see it, there’s not a man alive who isn’t a hundred times better off with a wife. Any wife,” he added, so as not to be too pointed.
Catherine smiled.
“Oh yes, any wife at all,” he went on a bit desperately, “let her be cross-eyed or bow-legged —”
“Thank you, kind sir!” She curtseyed and smiled as she went for more stones. “Cross-eyed and bow-legged indeed.”
“Indeed.” Then James flung caution aside, and allowed himself to overstep the bounds of propriety. “Though I confess, at the risk of incurring wrath for being ‘full of balderdash,’ I find you the most attractive woman on the whole Gaspé Coast.” Oh-oh, stop that, he commanded himself. But for the life of him, he could not. “Any man who gets you would find
They dropped their rocks and walked out for more. “Who do you think has the best glue in town?” He stooped to pick up another. “I tried the general store, but he is out of it. The storekeeper suggested I ask the neighbours around, to see who’s been making glue recently.” They picked a few more stones and headed for the rock pile.
“I think we have some somewhere, left over from last year.” She dropped her rock on to the pile.
“I also need some sturdy material to stitch onto the main belt.” They returned for more stones, their movements forming a rhythmical pattern as they laboured under the almost clear sky.
“I think we may have some stitching also.” She stooped for another stone. “So you can sew? I have a hole in one of my blouses...”
“Send it along! James Alford, tailor and profiteer!” He picked up a heavy rock and hefted it back to the stone pile. “How long ago did your family clear this?” He meant, of course, clear the land of trees.
“Before I was born. But every time we plough, we turn up more rocks. I don’t know where they all come from. This field is the worst. Too busy to clear it this last while, what with all the work over on our other land.”
“You do a lot of this?”
She nodded. “Even little Eleanor picks stones, the smaller ones, but she’s needed at home to help Mama.” They brought several more stones back to the pile. “I suppose this work you’re doing with me means you expect to be invited to eat once again...”
He glanced at her, to divine her intent: teasing him? Or being nasty. “No expectations.” But then he added quickly, “Lots of hopes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” James kept silent.
She went on: “If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.”
They worked on in silence. After a bit James asked, “So when is the wedding?”
“Not sure.”
Was that a glimmer of hope? “Billy will be a very lucky man. I hope he is worthy of you.”
“I think it’s more a question of — will I be worthy of him?”
“Ridiculous!” James said. “Who thinks that?”
“Everyone. They don’t see me, I’m afraid, the way you do.”
“And how do I see you?” James teased.
She remained silent.
“All right, so how do they see you?”
“Too headstrong. I won’t put up with balderdash!”
“Oh-oh, I’d better watch out.” At the same time, Catherine grew in his estimation. Working hard on the farm, doing a man’s work, and even now, able to divine his inner feelings. Don’t give up any pursuit right now, he told himself, as the glue and stitching went right out of his mind.
“Oh, for that,” Catherine interrupted, “use the rock sled. It’s up there in the corner.”
“All right.” He trotted off, got the sled, manhandled the heavy stone onto it and hauled it across to the pile. When he rejoined her, he said, “The way I see it, there’s not a man alive who isn’t a hundred times better off with a wife. Any wife,” he added, so as not to be too pointed.
Catherine smiled.
“Oh yes, any wife at all,” he went on a bit desperately, “let her be cross-eyed or bow-legged —”
“Thank you, kind sir!” She curtseyed and smiled as she went for more stones. “Cross-eyed and bow-legged indeed.”
“Indeed.” Then James flung caution aside, and allowed himself to overstep the bounds of propriety. “Though I confess, at the risk of incurring wrath for being ‘full of balderdash,’ I find you the most attractive woman on the whole Gaspé Coast.” Oh-oh, stop that, he commanded himself. But for the life of him, he could not. “Any man who gets you would find
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