Of Needles and Haystacks by Ann Fryer (the beginning after the end novel read TXT) 📕

It was a very fine day with sunshine and blossoms. Sparkling ponds and cantering horses. All I wanted to do was wear a fine dress and be outside. Independent of the confining shackles that kept my hand gripping the edge of the bedstead.

I couldn’t stand there and listen to his wild suppositions about Mr. Bleu stealing land. What a charge! To my mind, he ought to own it outright, for all he’s probably done. A queer tremble went through me. As though I were on a boat about to capsize. “I believe Mr. Bleu has done nothing wrong. I certainly don’t feel wronged.”

“You wouldn’t know the signs, you’re a woman.”

Don’t I? “Mr. Bleu has done more for you than you imagine.” There. I dared to say it. But I could not say more, for death still frightens me.

He seethed. “What would you know about that scoundrel?”

“I thought he was like family! Your David. How can you turn your back on him now? Over my father’s box of papers.” Bitterness edged my voice. I knew this, but failed to remain diplomatic.

Uncle began to sweat, though a good breeze lifted the curtain. “He betrayed me.” He wiped his face with a bandana.

“Betrayed you?” I was dumbfounded. “He’s been kindness itself. Even now, he spends every hour of every day helping Ernest repair your home. How he can continue to do so is beyond me.” I felt my pulse pounding.

Aunt marched in, her glance taking in the intensity on both sides. I appealed to her. “Mr. Bleu should not be cut off from your family. I can see how much he cares for each one of you. If there is any betrayal happening, it’s on your side. You are the ones who are wrong. All of you.”

Uncle turned his face to the window, to those keen breezes and a promising sunlight. Only there was no promise in his unseeing eyes.

Aunt stood with her mouth agape. This stunned silence accosted me. Without Bleu here to speak for them, or Ernest to create peace, they had nothing to offer. No dove or bridge or rainbow. I wanted to tell them everything. I couldn’t. What would it take for Uncle to forgive James his imaginary indiscretion? When might we move past ridiculous ideas?

I didn’t realize tears gushed down my cheeks until I had left the room and found myself at the pump in Mrs. Meade’s kitchen. I think she heard everything. My honest accusations resounded in my pounding head.

“Oh dear, dear, dear,” Mrs. Meade murmured. “Should I send for the doctor?”

“I don’t know.”

Her hand slid over my shoulder. “Might as well.”

I’ve not been good for this family. Truth be told. Cedar Gate is somewhat tempting. Somewhat. I had hoped Aunt would have some sense. My stomach stayed in knots all afternoon, and I scarcely ate lunch.

Back at Cedar Gate, I begged Mrs. MacDonald for some ironing work to do. A long, white linen tablecloth took most of two hours to press.  Slow, hot mind-numbing work.

I hoped that by the end of this horrible day, I’d be too tired to think. I wanted to drop into bed and sleep away my sorrow. Unfortunately, my mind remained as active as ever and all I could think about was not having a real home in Aunt and Uncle’s hearts. How will I be able to bear watching them live on as a family while I am forever forced to remain on the outside? If I pretend to agree with Uncle for the sake of peace, I’ll be living a lie.

James Bleu in no way deserves the depth of their unfounded rejection. There is still a missing piece here. Some truth that isn’t known to me, but certainly to Uncle, and certainly to James. Or does one know a truth that’s hidden from the other? Something more than what’s being told? Or beyond what James himself knows? What is it? What makes one man so fearful and the other so kind?

I dozed in and out all night. Wakeful enough for pondering, and back to sleep again. In my dozing and dreaming, I had an idea. I shall go there alone this morning. To the cottage on that small piece of land from Mother’s first husband.

My, my. This thought is still so foreign to me. And might be a foolish one, if I’m honest. Still, I must go.

I don’t care if there are snakes. At this moment, I feel they are less of a threat than being around Uncle. I wonder if this is why Father never pushed me to visit as Mother had tried? Did he know Uncle’s true nature? And Mr. Bleu.  That man is plain confusing.

JAMES GLANCED AROUND his own farm with regret. He’d wanted to put more work into the stables. Prepare for the new string of horses he’d buy in a few weeks. A shame to let go of the horse breeding venture with Hammond. At least the surviving fillies and colts would have a chance to thrive at Cedar Gate. The MacDonald’s were a generous people.

Well, Ernest needed all the help he could get. He mounted his horse and rode the few miles to Hammonds, hoping to haul the final logs down to the sawmill. They’d be able to start re-framing the damaged side of the house. Get everyone back where they belonged.

Ernest met him at the top of the road, near the gate. “Don’t bother to come. Pa’s here.”

“Good, I need to talk to him.”

Ernest pushed his hands forward. “Please, David. I don’t want to start more trouble.”

Ernest needed to learn how to confront a situation like a man, not hide behind a rock or placate a man’s fickle emotions. Like Hammond. “I didn’t cause that tornado.”

“I know, I know.” He shook his head, looking at his shoes. “And I know you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. You wouldn’t try to steal our land by marrying Dorothy.” Ernest looked up, catching James’ eyes. “Even if you did like her and ended up with