Hester gasped studying the handsome man’s face. He cared for her, not just as a friend, but as something more. “I feel the same way,” she smiled. “I don’t understand how it happened, but I feel a connection between us, a link that could be so much more.”
Cecil’s smile brightened. “Hester Johnson, you are all the things I never knew I needed. I don’t know how to express it but,” he ran a hand behind his neck. “I’d like to find out.”
Hester smiled back at him, feeling her heart quiver. “I think I’d like that.”
A loud shout and heavy clatter made both of them jump, and Hester dropped her bucket grabbing her skirts as she sprinted back the way she had come.
“You can’t do that!” Jonas yelled at his sister. “Now look at what you made me do.”
Skidding around the corner of the house, Hester and Cecil both watched in horror as Jonas ran his paint brush down his sister’s arm.
“Stop!” Beverly shouted, smacking him on the shoulder with her own brush. “I’m the boss.”
“No you aren’t,” Jonas’s brush descended toward his sister’s hair and Hester sprinted toward them, grabbing his hand at the last second.
“What’s this all about?” She snapped as Cecil pulled Bev away.
“Beverly said I couldn’t paint around the window,” he pointed toward the once clean glass, now partially covered in white paint.
“He’s making a mess,” Beverly retorted.
“You made me spill my paint.” Jonas shouted back.
Hester looked down at the pool of paint spreading across the flooring. “Jonas, go to the pump and wash up,” she demanded. “There will be no more painting for you. You will go to your room and wait until I can speak to you.”
“But she started it!”
“Go,” Hester pointed to the side of the house where she had just been kissing Mr. Payton.
“Beverly, brush out that spill then fill this bucket.” She offered the small pail she still held in her hand. I’ll have Mrs. August draw a bath, and we’ll try to get you cleaned up then you can go to your room and think about your behavior.”
“I hate you!” Beverly spat tossing her brush on the floor and storming away.
Cecil watched as his charges marched off in different direction, both obviously miserable, and then turned back to Hester. “Don’t you think you were being a little harsh?” His words fell like millstones, dragging Hester’s hearts to the depths of despair.
“No,” she said, her voice shaky. “I do not think I was too harsh. They were behaving horribly and they both need to take responsibility for their actions.”
“They’re only children.”
“Children grow into adults. If adults won’t guide them what will they ever become?”
“They need understanding,” Cecil insisted growing irritated at the conversation. “Those two have been through enough in their young lives. They don’t need more harsh treatment.”
“Harsh treatment?” Hester’s eyes grew wide. “Harsh treatment is letting them believe that anything they do is right and good. If we don’t teach them now life, or even worse, death will.”
The young woman’s heart seemed to crumble in her breast as her temper rose. Turning on her heel she hurried away toward the front of the house, leaving Mr. Payton standing there to clean up the mess.
Hester dashed the tears from her eyes. The man had just promised he wanted to be more than a friend. He had kissed her, and now he had turned on her. Hadn’t he said he would support her and stand behind her? How could she trust someone who changed with the wind?
She was so angry she barely slowed as she walked through the front door stomping her way up the stairs. If he didn’t trust her judgment with the children, how would he ever truly love and trust her as anything more. As her heart crumbled into a million pieces, Hester realized that she could not live with a man who didn’t trust her.
Hot tears streaming down her face as Hester shoved her few items of clothing into her old bag, never stopping to change out of her paint stained dress. “Uncle Hyke,” she shouted as she walked back out onto the front porch, bag in hand. “Uncle Hyke!”
“What’s wrong?” Hyke came skidding around the corner of the house, a goat in tow. “Hester, what’s wrong?”
“I’m leaving,” she barked. “I’m, I’m leaving,” she stammered, hot tears pouring down her face. “Please take me to town, and I’ll stay at the boarding house tonight then catch the train tomorrow.”
“Where will you go?” the old man asked. “There’s nothing for us in the big city.”
Hester felt her shoulders sag as all of the hopes and dreams that has sprung to life only moments ago evaporated. “Just take me to town,” she sobbed. “I’ll figure everything else out later.”
***
"Looks like trouble in paradise,” George Olson commented as Hyke drove toward the boarding house. “I think you might have got your wires crossed this time Polly.”
Polly set her mending back into the basket by her rocking chair, looking up at the tear stained face of Miss Johnson. “It will work out as it should,” she said, her tone knowing.
George rose from his chair moving to greet Hyke as he pulled the horse and wagon to a stop.
“Hyke,” George greeted. “What can we do for you?”
“I’d like a room,” Hester stated, her voice thick with emotion, as she stood prompting George to help her down from the wagon. “I’ll also need a train schedule.”
George helped the young woman up the stairs of the front porch, casting a worried glance at his wife.
“Come along with me Hester,” Polly said rising and opening the door. “I’ll have Becky make up a room for you while we have tea.”
Hester sniffed, nodding and following Polly down the hall to the
