I wiped my face with the heels of my palms, then hauled myself to my feet using the counter, ignoring the pain in my knees. I had to go after Elliot. To apologize. To figure out some way to make it up to him.
But when I stepped outside, he wasn’t alone.
He was talking to a tall woman—shorter than Elliot, but only by a few inches—with fairly broad shoulders that were decently well-muscled and steel-grey hair pulled back in a knot on the back of her head. Her skin had once been fair, but was sun-darkened, her features showing wrinkles that suggested she both frowned and smiled in fairly equal proportions. From where I stood, I couldn’t see her eyes, but once I realized who she was, I remembered they were a light grey-green.
It had taken me a moment to recognize Helen Hill—the woman who lived on the neighboring farm with her husband,Ray. They were the only people in the area who weren’t members of the Community. The farm had belonged to Helen’s family for at least four generations, and they’d moved here when her aunt had died and left it to her. The Community was only three generations old, and they and the Hills—and the Maynards before them—had a live-and-let-live arrangement.
Helen had always been kind to Noah and I, sometimes giving us cookies or biscuits when we passed the farm on our way to the Meeting House for services or Bible study or other events, or when we went to trade eggs or goat’s milk for something from one of the other households.
Once, she’d given Noah and me a pair of tiny felted mice made from alpaca wool. My father had called them foolish acquisitiveness and threw them in the fire. I still remembered the smell of burnt alpaca wool.
Noah and I very deliberately didn’t tell either of our parents about the cookies and biscuits. The sin of gluttony was a common one in our household—when you’re a kid growing toward six-three, you eat a lot, so I spent a lot of time begging for forgiveness for that one. That, and Noah, who was much smaller, often smuggled me food.
Helen was carrying a basket—the kind I expected she might be using to collect eggs. I certainly didn’t mind. She’d clearly been the one taking care of the goats and chickens, so if she wanted to take the eggs, that was more than fine with me.
There was a smile on her face as she talked to Elliot, which helped to calm some of my nerves—if she was smiling at Elliot, it likely meant that she wasn’t going to hold my being gay against me, since I assumed that Elliot had probably introduced himself as my boyfriend. Whatever she said made Elliot laugh, which was also a good thing.
And then she saw me, and I watched the smile waver a little, although she didn’t exactly look unhappy to see me, either.
I forced myself to keep walking up to them.
“My word, you got big,” was what she said to me, holding out her hand, palm down. I took it, and she squeezed. “And handsome,” she said, then winked at Elliot.
He had definitely told her he was my boyfriend. I was pleased that this not only didn’t seem to bother her, but that she actually appeared to accept it without judgment. It was a pleasant change from what I’d expected of anyone living within thirty miles of the Community. I also felt my neck flushing at the complement, misplaced though it was.
“I assume we have you to thank for taking care of the animals, ma’am?” I said.
“Helen, please, darlin’.”
I nodded once. “Helen.”
She nodded. “I couldn’t let the poor things starve up here,” she replied. “And the ’pacas can spare some extra food.”
“I’ll pay you back for it,” I offered.
She waved a hand. “Don’t you worry your head about it,” she replied. “The ’pacas don’t mind none.”
“Then let us bring you a nice lunch,” Elliot suggested. “Or dinner. If you’re fond of Chinese or Thai, Staunton has some decent places that do takeout.”
Helen smiled, deepening the creases at the corners of her eyes. “That’s sweet of you, darlin’, but we have what we need.”
Elliot matched her smile. “It’s not about need,” he replied cheerfully. “It’s about enjoying sharing a meal and good company.”
She laughed. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you darlin’?”
“Nope,” he replied.
She smiled. “How about you pick up a bunch of coffee beans from Staunton Coffee Roasters for me, and I’ll make us breakfast. Say… day after tomorrow?”
Elliot grinned. “Deal.”
“El… I’m sorry. About… before.”I could barely get the words out, my throat stopped by guilt. I hated that I’d moved away from him. And I hated even more that it had hurt him.
“It’s okay,” he replied, but in the way you do when it isn’t okay and you either don’t want to talk about it or you don’t really mean it. Or both. He also didn’t take his eyes off the road or his hands off the wheel.
We were heading back to Staunton as the sun sank below the mountains. Helen had strongly suggested that we didn’t want to be caught in the mountains after dark. It was sweet of her to be concerned, although I wasn’t particularly worried about driving in the mountains in darkness in dry weather, but I also wasn’t going to turn down an excuse to leave.
“I mean it,” I said, pushing past the emotion. “I shouldn’t have… pulled away.”
