Colin's Conundrum

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Colin swung the ax over his head and brought it down, straight and true, into the heart of a section of log, neatly splitting it in half. No stranger to such a task, his calloused palms easily guided the heavy tool. In his younger days, he'd used times like this to think deep and powerful thoughts—or at least what his adolescent brain considered deep and powerful. Probably pure tripe, he acknowledged ruefully. But in the last few years, the burden of unanswerable questions left him unable to entertain more than the most fleeing rumination without agony, and so manual labor had become an opportunity to rest his mind. Except that today, thoughts kept creeping in.

Such a pretty lass, and so bright.

If I could take the time to get to know someone like her, life might not seem so bad. Why must it be that I have nothing to offer? I'm sure a humble existence wouldn't offend her, but even that is beyond me.

He swung the ax again and missed the wood, sinking the blade into the block, far too near his leg.

“Easy, lad,” he urged himself under his breath. “Injuring yourself won't change your fate for the better.”

“Looks like you have enough,” Miss Granger commented, appearing around the front of the house.

“Well, I thought I might do a bit extra,” he explained, “since your father fed and housed my horse as well.”

“I noticed the poor beast in the barn. You don't actually ride him, do you?”

Colin shook his head, drops of sweat flying from the tips of his hair. “That would finish the old boy off for sure. No, he's only carrying my pack. I have a friend who is willing to take him in and give him a comfortable, easy life for the rest of his days. I intend to accept that offer.”

She grinned. “I like men who are kind to animals.” Then her smile faded. “So many see them as slaves to exploit or tools to use up.” She bit her lip and muttered, almost too softly for him to hear, “They usually see women the same way.”

She has someone particular in mind, Colin realized, not that it was truly any of his business. “I hope no one is bothering you, Miss Granger. That would be a pity.”

She shrugged, her lips curving into a smile of painful falseness. “All women are 'bothered' by a man at some time or another. It's sort of our fate.”

Her words brought to mind Colin's best friend, Christopher, who had rescued his wife from the clutches of an abusive father. Christopher's brother Devon, had traveled to India to rescue his wife, whose meddlesome uncle had tried to send his bride-to-be away into p**********n. Hell, even my mother lived half her life at the mercy of people who saw her as a means to an end, rather than a person in her own right. How difficult it must be, living a female life. “Just because something is common does not mean it is right,” he pointed out.

Miss Granger's grim grin turned real, her hazel eyes lighting up. Behind her, the sun sank slowly toward the horizon, illuminating her lovely features with a scarlet glow. Her angelic appearance stopped his breath in his chest and set his heart pounding. “Be careful with that smile, Miss Granger,” he urged. “I would hate to catch myself 'bothering' you as well.”

A soft giggle escaped her. “I don't think it's possible you could, sir.” Her cheeks glowed with their own internal luminescence at the admission. “I would rather fancy being bothered by you, I think. I mean, I don't know you well, but…”

Colin sighed. “My dear lady, I beg you not to say such things. It can never be… but the temptation appeals so much, it almost hurts.”

She lowered her eyelids, shutting out the light of her eyes, and broke the spell holding Colin captive. “Are you sure it's impossible? Distance is a bother but surely not insurmountable, and we could write letters.”

Colin swallowed hard, and the mouthful of disgusted regret nearly made him retch. “I mustn't. I am so sorry. Please, Miss Granger, don't tempt me any further.” He closed his own eyes, shutting out the sight of her lovely, expressive face.

A strong, capable hand closed on his upper arm. “As you wish. But… will you remember me?”

He nodded without opening his eyes. “Every day of my life. I swear it.”

A change in the quality of the ambiance told him he was alone. He opened his eyes to find her gone. “Why?” he choked in despair. “Why must my life be thus, that I cannot even agree to correspond with someone, let alone care for her? What sin did I commit to condemn me to a life so empty of joy?”

The setting sun touched the horizon, turning the sky before Colin into a copper plate, from which his anguished prayer rebounded, unheard.

“The iniquities of the father are visited upon the children,” he paraphrased.

The sun set, and darkness shrouded the inn yard.