Chapter Twenty
Adam
I knew I'd hit a nerve with the boyfriend talk, but I liked seeing Grace Miller get flustered. She was normally so calm and reserved that it made me wonder if anything could penetrate her outer shell. It was obvious to me that Gabe had a huge crush on her, but the way she talked to him didn't indicate that his feelings were reciprocated. I wanted to ask her about it, but I knew that there was no way Grace was going to spill her secrets.
Over dinner, I watched as Danny excitedly signed the activities of the day and accounted for the work he'd done in the field. For a 15-year-old boy, he was surprisingly productive and eager to help ensure that the fields were cared for and the celery was healthy.
"What's up with this obsession with celery?" I asked as I scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. "I don't get it."
"The celery is for Verity's wedding," Honor said as she helped herself to more pot roast and signaled to me to pass the gravy.
"Okay?" I said looking across the table at Grace who was staring intently at her plate. "What's celery have to do with weddings?"
"Celery is used in the wedding dinner, English," Honor said impatiently.
"Honor!" Verity scolded. "That's not a nice way to refer to our guest!"
"He's not a guest. No one invited him to stay with us," Honor replied. "He's a convalescent who happens to be camped out on our sofa."
"Honor!" both Grace and Verity said at the same time.
"What?" Honor said defensively looking back and forth at her older sisters. "I'm just saying what everyone is thinking."
"It's rude," Verity said. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wallace. She's rather blunt."
"No need to be sorry," I shrugged. "She's right. I'm not a guest. I crashed my car and needed help. You offered under duress."
"Oh please, don't start pitying yourself," Honor interjected.
"I'm on your side!" I protested.
"Who said anything about sides?" she replied as she gave me an annoyed look. I sighed and threw up my hands not understanding the role in which I'd been cast. Danny turned to Honor and quickly signed something that made Grace and Verity laugh.
"No, I'm not trying to be difficult," Honor scowled at him. "I'm just trying to be honest, unlike the rest of you."
"Honor, that's uncalled for," Grace said as the smile slipped away from her lips. "We're all doing the best we can."
"Yeah, well, maybe that's not good enough!" Honor shouted as she pushed her chair back and bolted from the table. She ran for the door and was half way across the yard before the back door slammed.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Wallace," Verity said quietly. "She's having a hard time coping with the loss of our parents."
"It's perfectly understandable," I said, looking over at Grace who was staring at the screen door with a pained look on her face. "Everyone deals with loss differently."
A few minutes later, Grace got up from the table and, without saying a word, walked out the back door and across the yard toward the barn. I looked at Verity, but she had gotten up from the table and had her back to me as she ran water in the sink and prepared to do the dishes.
"Clear the table for me, would you, Danny?" she said without turning around, and I took that as my cue to clear out of the room. When Danny returned to the table to grab the plates, I motioned to the back door with a questioning look and he nodded and signed what I took to mean go.
I exited through the back door and started toward the barn before deciding not to interrupt Grace and Honor. Instead, I walked out back toward the fields and stood looking out over the verdant carpet of corn and soybeans as the sun slowly sank behind the trees and tried to figure out how I was going to turn this ship around.
Chapter Twenty-One
Grace
"Grace! Verity! Where are you?" Faith called as she and Hope hopped down out of the shiny black buggy Hope had borrowed from her in-laws. "Honor? Danny? Are you around?"
"I thought I saw someone in the barn," Hope said as she walked across the drive and into the barn. "Oh, there you two are!"
"What are you doing here?" I asked as I stood up and brushed the hay off my dress. Honor remained seated on a bale of hay with her arms crossed across her chest stubbornly refusing to look at any of us.