Free And Then Came Spring by Margaret Brownley

fine.” The truth was she liked him a lot. If it wasn’t for the persistent nightmares, she would consider herself the luckiest girl alive that such a man asked her to marry him.
    â€œWhen Bobby Watkins and Henry Hill got into a fight, my teacher made them stay after school until they got to know each other better. Now they’re the bestest friends.”
    She smiled at his meaning. She didn’t want to promise anything, but neither did she want to worry him. “Perhaps once your uncle and I get to know each other better, we’ll be bestest friends too.”
    Garrett arrived and his presence seemed to fill every nook and cranny. He lifted the lid off the pot on the stove and sniffed. “That’s not possum, is it?” he teased.
    â€œIt’s beef stew,” she said. “But I can fix possum if you like.”
    He replaced the lid. “Stew’s fine,” he said, winking at Eddie.
    After they ate, Eddie was excused from the table to go and feed his pa’s horse. She and Garrett lingered over coffee. While reaching for the sugar, he knocked over the salt.
    She held her breath and clenched her hands together. Garrett had made it clear that he didn’t believe in luck and she didn’t want to do anything to earn his disfavor. Not while things were so fragile between them. And yet the urge was so strong.
    He set the saltshaker upright. She tried to ignore the white grains that dotted the table. It would have been easier to ignore a herd of cattle moving through the room.
    She chewed on a fingernail. She imagined the white grains of salt dancing across the table, mocking her. She thought of the nightmares that plagued her and she felt sick to her stomach.
    â€œI’ve been thinking,” she began.
    He raised a dark eyebrow. “And?”
    She tried to recall the speech she’d rehearsed, but none of it came to mind. “Maybe . . . it would be best if I returned home.”
    He set his cup down. “It’s only been two weeks,” he said. “You promised you’d take at least a month to think about it.”
    â€œYes, well, I have thought about it. I’ve also prayed about it but . . .” Much to her dismay, tears welled in her eyes. For more than six years she’d grieved for Charles. She didn’t know how to grieve for Daniel. What little she thought she knew about him turned out to be lies from Mr. Hitchcock’s pen. That explained some of the tears but not all.
    He handed her a clean handkerchief and she dabbed her cheeks. “I don’t think God means for me to get married.” There, she said it.
    He reared back in his chair, his face suffused with astonishment. “Did you come to this conclusion because of what happened to Dan?”
    â€œAnd Charles.” She still didn’t want to tell him about her nightmares.
    He blew out his breath and scratched his temple. “I don’t think God has anything to do with your losses,” he said. “Bad things happen and—”
    Before he could complete his sentence, Eddie ran into the house, shouting, “Fire, fire!”
    â€œOh no!” She jumped up from her chair.
    The sheriff was on his feet and out the door in a flash. Mary-Jo started after him, then stopped. She grabbed the salt shaker and shook it over her left shoulder before bounding out the door.
    â€¢â€¢â€¢
    Dark, thick smoke poured out of the barn. Garrett pulled a bucket of water from the well and dashed inside. Mary-Jo grabbed a second bucket and followed, water sloshing over the sides.
    The air was hazy with smoke, but by the time she entered the barn, the fire appeared to be out. She set the bucket down.
    â€œWhat is that awful smell?” She wrinkled her nose. “It smells like rotten eggs.”
    Garrett turned, his face dark with anger. “Where’s Eddie?”
    â€œI don’t know. I—”
    Just then the barn door slammed shut.