He shot past her, already on a swing when she got there.

She hopped on next to him and pumped herself up.

"I let you win, you know," she teased. The wind caught her breath and she squealed, loving that he was willing to share the experience with her. None of the older boys would have been caught dead on the swings, and she was touched he took the chance of anyone seeing him.

When the sun hit the mark where she knew it was time to go, she had a bad feeling about leaving him. After Haity died, nothing felt safe for long. She stopped her swing and stood, waiting. "I have to leave now."

As they started toward home, he took her hand. That's all she needed.

At his turnoff, he faced her and gently kissed her cheek.

"I can't make it until week after next!" she hollered as he wandered off.

He stopped for a look back. "See you in two weeks then, Friday?"

"Yep, week after next."

As he turned back up the road, she called to him again before she could stop herself. "Daniel... I'll be up in my favorite sycamore tree at sunset. And I'll be thinking about you."

He looked over his shoulder with a smile winding up his cheeks. "I'll be at my bedroom window. And I'll think about you too."

At that moment, any doubts she may have had about their future disappeared. She was certain that the something stirring inside of her was also stirring inside of him, and nothing was going to get her down these next two weeks.

Everything was just as she promised herself it would be. Every meal she cooked, every floor she washed, and every trip to the barn was not a chore, but a step closer to the one she loved.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

Two days before Emily was to see Daniel, everything changed. Her life, her thoughts, her hopes, and even her dreams would never be the same.

Emily was up in the hayloft playing with the new kittens when Claude found her. She'd always had good sense to avoid him, though why, the reason failed her even now as he walked toward her. She pulled the kittens close, and then everything went blank until she awakened to a wrenching pain, to Claude's smothering weight crushing her, and this horrible thing she didn't understand.

After, she raced to the creek, ran faster than her legs had ever taken her, and there she gathered herself together. The threat of a scolding could not pull her away until she found the courage to look on the new world that waited for her. She still did not know how to face the men with shame in her eyes.

The journey home was a series of running, and then stopping to catch her breath, of prayers and thoughts of anger, and guilt. She reached the house with the courage she needed, but with doubts no lighter than when she started.

She breathed in, and took the steps up to the veranda entrance. Her heart pounded, her hands shaking as she opened the kitchen door and walked in.

There wasn't a sound but the ticking of the clock. She stood and listened for a few moments, and then rushed about preparing dinner.

Claude didn't show his face that night, but the others walked in tired and ready to eat, and then fell into bed.

The next morning she awoke to a damp pillowcase against her cheek and an unfamiliar ache at the pit of her stomach. She yanked the covers back, and saw that blood had seeped onto the sheet. Scooting off the bed, she ripped her clothes off, then pulled on a bathrobe, and carried everything down to the washroom.

Mist filled the bathroom as she sat in the tub with her arms around her knees, shivering, remembering the pain and humiliation. He would find her again, he said as much, his warning not to tell anyone made sure of that.

It wasn't new for her to try to avoid Claude, although to steer clear of him altogether was impossible. When their eyes met for the first time since that horrible day, she was chilled by the realization that his attitude toward her had changed. He was still mean and nasty, but a weaker side of him showed through, not in a pleasant way, but in a way that turned her stomach.

As difficult as it was going about her chores and acting as if nothing had happened, it was the thought of Daniel that kept her from falling apart. She longed to confide in him, but that could never happen. Still, she imagined if she did tell him, he would hold her close with his gangly arms, and promise her no one would ever hurt her again. Daniel, with his gentle heart, would make things better.

At last, the day arrived for her to see him again. She got up early, did her chores, and then fixed most of the dinner she would bring out to the men when she returned home.

When she reached Daniel's turnoff, she sat in the grassy area next to the ditch until she saw him come up the road.

She stood, wanting to run to him, to fall into his arms and tell him everything. Although she waited quietly, watching his every movement, knowing that things had changed, she had changed. Daniel seemed to know something was different about her too, the way he walked up to her without reservation and stood looking into her eyes.

"I missed you," he said, then raised a hand and brushed a piece of hair off her cheek.

She swallowed, fighting back tears. "Me, too."

He took her hand, and they walked up the road just like before, although he looked at her differently now. She could tell he wanted to say something; but instead he squeezed her hand, and gazed off into the distance, most likely thinking about her and that she had changed. Whatever it was; if it was written on her face, or evident by the way she stood, or the tone of her voice, she felt it all around her; she was part of it. She didn't want pity from him, not one bit. All she wanted was for him to know how much she needed him.

Their basketball game that day wasn't quite as rambunctious as the times before. There was less teasing, not exactly mellow, but quieter, and in a way more mature. Then when they took the swings up, they didn't laugh as much, although several times they stole glances at one another as if they had a silent bond that didn't need words. That's how she took it, anyway. She wished she could tell him about her change, and considered doing so, but then she was afraid he would look down on her if he knew the details. That would be part of the shame she'd have to carry alone.

It was almost time to go. He took her hand and led her to a grassy area where they sat and talked, not about school, or basketball, but about life. He told her someday he wanted to be a lawyer and have a big house in town, and that he planned to have at least three children. That last comment surprised her, but it thrilled her too. She told him one day she wanted to take a train to San Francisco, and that she couldn't decide if she wanted to be a teacher, a writer, or something else.

When it was time to leave him at the corner, he bent to kiss her cheek. He started to pull away, and she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. This time he was the one staring after her as she walked home. That's when thoughts of Claude crept in and tried to ruin what she'd just experienced with Daniel. It wasn't over between her and Claude and that's what worked her stomach into such a knot she bent over the ditch and threw up her lunch.

For the next two weeks, she didn't see Daniel. And whenever Claude showed his face, she ignored him as much as possible. He had never come for meals on a steady basis, and she was grateful he hadn't been around lately. If only it were remorse that kept him away.

Then on the day she was to meet Daniel again, Claude came up the front steps as she was walking out the front door. She knew by the look in his eyes, her days of ignoring him were coming to an end. She jumped off the porch and hurried across the lawn, through the arbor and to the side of the house until she was sure he was inside. Then she went up the road to meet Daniel.

She was nervous the whole way, and stood at the end of his road, shaking. Until now, she hadn't let herself dwell too long on what happened between her and Claude, but after the way he looked at her, she couldn't ignore all the emotions stirring up her insides. Right now, she didn't trust herself not to tell Daniel.

She saw him come up the road, then and as he approached, she noticed he wasn't carrying the basketball. He seemed troubled.

They walked to the school in silence, although that wasn't unusual for them. He took her hand, led her to their spot against the building, and sat. She slid down beside him, thinking, this was a good time for them to talk about their future. He had to know that she needed him more than ever now.

She turned to him ready to tell him how she felt. He leaned forward, and her blood rushed through her veins, pumping her heart until she was breathless. Oh, Daniel, I love you, she wanted to say.

He pecked her cheek, and then pulled himself up and wandered off toward the swings.

She followed. "Daniel."

He turned and waited for her to catch up, and then took her hand, but he wouldn't look at her.

She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but then maybe, she really didn't want to know.

They always tried to see who could go the highest. Most of the time, it was neck and neck, making sure to never go past the limit where the swings would take them over the bar, but far higher than the teacher allowed. Today, he went higher than normal.

"Not so high, Daniel. You'll go over!"

All at once, he bailed out and landed on the grass a few feet beyond the dirt.

She stopped her swing and ran over, dropping to her knees beside him.

"Daniel. Are you okay?"

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky. She lay beside him, and placed her head on his shoulders.

"We're moving," he said quietly. "We're going back to South Carolina."

She sat up. "But you can't! We're supposed to be..." She moved to her knees and looked down at him, using every ounce of strength to hold back a sob. "You can't go. You can't leave me."

She noticed how uncomfortable he was, biting the inside of his lip, his eyes narrowing, staring straight up, not even at her. This made her angry. She leaped to her feet, went over and heaved herself on a swing, and pumped higher than she had ever been.

"Hey, slow down," he said, standing beneath her.

She didn't care if she went over.

"I'm sorry, Emily. I don't want to go."

"Makes no difference now, does it, Daniel!" No words would stop the pain. Begging wouldn't change a thing. She had already lost him, just like everyone else she ever loved.

He forced her swing to a stop.

She hopped off and started for home.

He came up beside her, taking her hand. There was so much to say. Yet she was too numb to say anything at all, even that she was sorry for yelling at him. She knew it wasn't his fault.

At his turnoff, he pulled her into his arms, just like in her dreams. But it was different now.

"I'll miss you," he said, his voice cracking.

"Me too. I'll miss you too, Daniel."

When he pulled back, she saw tears in his eyes. He squeezed her hand, and quickly turned away.

She wanted to beg him to stay a while longer, to tell him it was okay to cry. But it was no use. She watched him walk away, becoming smaller and smaller. Finally, he looked back and waved. That was it, one last wave and he was gone out of her life.

After he disappeared, the sobs began. Her tears flowed so that she could barely see her way home.

Her eyes were red and swollen when she walked into the kitchen and came face to face with Grandfather. He had cut off a hunk of roast, and was pouring himself coffee.

"Where in the hell've you been?"

She didn't say anything, just sailed across the room to wash her face at the sink.

She could sense his shock as he stood behind her.

"Everyone's waiting for dinner." He said no more, didn't yell like she thought he would.

"It won't be long," she told him quietly.

He went to sit on the front porch and she pulled everything out of the refrigerator and began to put dinner together. Maybe she would sneak the new kittens up to her room for the night. She pictured them snuggled in bed with her. Steven would take them to town in the morning. They'd be safe there. Some day she would leave for town too and never come back.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

(1958).

Emily lifted her arms and wiggled just enough so that the gray and pink checkered dress slid down over her tall slender frame. Outside, the wind whipped around the house as though it was mid-winter. An icy draft came in through the windows causing goose-bumps to rise up her arms.

She zipped up her dress, tied her hair into a ponytail, and then went to the window and pulled back the curtains.

The night before, the skies had been clear. Now snowflakes whirled with the moan of intensifying winds. She thought of her aunt a mile up the road. With the snow already piling up and no boots to wear, she didn't know how she would make it over that afternoon.

From his cabin, Claude came across the yard, hunched over in his hooded jacket. When he looked up at her, she dropped the curtains and went to finish dressing.

She stooped and tugged at the bottom of her long johns, loving the way the thick cotton warmed her legs. Pulling on a pair of knee high socks, she grimaced as she stepped into her sole-worn saddle shoes. She laced them up and grabbed a sweater off the back of a chair, ready to go down. Then something made her stop, go to the dresser, and pull out her mother's sapphire ring. Although she took it out now and then, tried it on and marveled, she had only worn it once on her sixteenth birthday. She placed it on her finger, and then headed downstairs to make breakfast.

An hour later, the table was set with bacon, eggs, fried potatoes, fresh biscuits, and a dish of honey and another with jelly. The men were in good spirits as she brought over a fresh pot of coffee.

Back in late February when the last major storm came through, the men spent two days in the basement, happy as four pigs in a trough. Instead of chopping wood or making repairs, they played cards and drank beer as if the cool flakes and chill in the air meant that a leave of responsibility was in order. Now, with the prospect of another storm, the gleam was back in their eyes.

Emily didn't understand their reasoning, nor did she share their enthusiasm. This wasn't just because of the demands and the reckless banter she would have to put up with, but mostly because she hadn't made it to her aunt's two weeks in a row. During her last visit, the old woman had been visibly troubled. Now if things didn't change, she wouldn't be going today either.

For a while, the storm seemed to have lifted. But then a gust of wind came like a train and flung debris against the house.

"Son of a bitch!" Steven said. "What was that?"

Timothy flew out of his chair and went to look out a window. "Ha. Half the arbor just went down."

Grandfather placed his coffee on the table and reached for a toothpick. "Looks like we'll have to move the cows to the South pasture, boys."

"Awe, come on," Claude moaned. "They have a cowshed and some trees for shelter right where they are."

"Now listen here, Mister, you should know by now, if it gets worse and we don't move them cows, come night, it's gonna freeze and so will they."

Emily wasn't sure they'd even care, but she had to say it anyway. "While you're at it, someone better check on Aunt Francine."

She was right. The men were more interested in winters gone by, playing crazy eight and drinking-it-up in the basement.

At first, Grandfather sat stone-faced. Though after a couple shots of whiskey and another pot of coffee, he joined in the banter. The old woman was the last thing on their minds.

Emily turned from the sink where she was washing dishes. "Steven!" she said, louder than she meant to. She caught his eye and softened her voice. "Please, can't you just run over?"

"What? What're you talking about?"