Uncharted Promises (The Uncharted Series Book 8) Page 3

  Sybil watched Isaac’s shadow linger in the hallway. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

  Chapter Three

  The rain stopped, but the overcast sky remained a timeless gray while Isaac walked Chloe to the stable block. When he’d been here to interview for the job, he hadn’t explored the expansive building. He was eager to now. The earthy aroma of hay and hewn lumber and horse greeted him as he stepped inside. It was perfect.

  Solo closed one of the tall, arched doors behind them but propped open the other, just enough for fresh air. Smart man. Isaac would enjoy working with him.

  He walked Chloe to the center of the open space. Another set of tall doors stood on the other side. It was big enough to drive a wagon through. To the right, the long end of the L-shaped building housed two rows of horse stalls and had a wide walkway between them.

  Solo lifted his chin at the row of stall doors. “Take her into the second from last on the left. That’ll be yours. I keep the front stalls open for guests.”

  Isaac glanced at a closed door that he figured led to the other section of the stable block. “Are there more stalls on that side too?”

  “Might be someday. For now, it’s just storage and my rooms. I’ll show you around later.” He lifted his chin at the inn, visible through the tall open door. “Almost lunchtime. They won’t ring the bell since there aren’t any guests and everyone else is in the house already.” He walked toward Chloe, both hands open. “Here. Give me her saddle. I’ll find you a spot in the tack room while you get her settled in the stall.”

  Isaac unbuckled the straps and hefted the saddle over to Solo. He walked Chloe into the clean stall and gave her a quick brush. When he turned to set the brush on a shelf by the stall gate, she leaned her head against his shoulder, warming his heart.

  “Thanks, girl. I’ll be back shortly and get you some feed.” He stroked her face. “I’ll find out where they keep the good oats and bring you a bucket full. All right, girl?”

  Solo led him down a muddy path through the yard to the other side of the inn where three wooden steps led up to a stoop with a screen door. Beside the steps a narrow stairwell led down to a cellar beneath the house. Solo held the screen door open and turned the knob on the wooden door inside. As Isaac followed him into the inn, the pleasing aroma of meat and onions teased his stomach.

  Sybil could cook and play the piano. He wondered what other talents hid beneath that blushing skin of hers.

  As he walked down the hallway, the office where Eva had given him the key to his room was on one side. On the other was the back entrance to kitchen. He peeked inside as they passed, hoping to get a glimpse of Sybil in action.

  Pots were steaming on the stove and plates were stacked on the countertop, but no one was in the room. A quiet conversation murmured from the dining hall on the opposite end of the house. He held his hat in his hands as he followed Solo into the warm room. Its stone hearth glowed with a crackling fire.

  Mr. Roberts and his little grandson were sitting at their usual table on the back left side of the room. Leonard’s wife sat with them. Sybil placed a bread basket on her father’s table and then one on the table next to it. Isaac hoped she would immediately notice him so he could smile at her and make her blush again, but she didn’t.

  Eva and Leonard were standing in the middle of the room, speaking with a thin man who had black sideburns and a prominent Adam’s apple.

  Sybil wrung her hands while she walked away from the tables and toward the kitchen. She frowned as she eyed the gangly man, then gave Isaac a slightly pained look when she passed him. Maybe his effect on her wasn’t as positive as he’d first thought.

  Probably just as well. He was here to do a job, not flirt with the boss’s daughter.

  Eva had her arms crossed tightly as she scowled at her father who was still sitting at his table. Something was amiss but without knowing the family better, Isaac couldn’t tell what. He followed Solo toward Eva and Leonard, but stayed a few steps back, not wanting to intrude on their private business.

  Solo stuck out his hand to the lanky man, his scarred brow quizzically wrinkled. “Solomon Cotter. Stable manager.”

  “Eddie McIntosh,” the man replied with a young voice.

  “He’s here for the farm manager job,” Eva interjected, raising her pretty chin. Her lips remained regally straight as she spoke to Solo. “Apparently my father offered Eddie the farm manager position even though I’d already offered it to Isaac.”

  Isaac took a step forward, nearer to Eva and Leonard than to this Eddie fellow. He glanced back at Frederick Roberts for any indication that the inn’s senile owner would verify the young man’s claim. Frederick remained seated at his table, awaiting his Sunday lunch, gazing off at nothing and stroking his long white beard, as if the matter at hand had nothing to do with him.

  “Father?” Eva raised her voice, not so much in a scold as to get his attention.

  Frederick snapped his gaze toward his grown daughter, then grinned. “It’s a very pretty dress, Peach. You look lovely today.”

  Eva shook her head at Leonard. “He doesn’t even know what we were talking about ten seconds ago. What am I supposed to do?”

  Leonard held up an arthritic finger to her. “Give me a minute with him.” He hobbled over to Frederick’s table, one leg not quite in step with the other, either from his bad back or from the stroke he suffered months before. He pulled out a chair to sit, speaking loudly to Frederick as one hard-of-hearing man does with another.

  While Leonard tried to stoke Frederick’s memory, asking if he had indeed hired Eddie McIntosh to be the farm manager, Solo nudged Isaac. “Don’t worry. We’ll have this cleared up in a jiffy.”

  Though he meant it as a reassurance, a faint quiver in his voice got Isaac’s attention. Might they actually be considering giving his job to this man that nobody seemed to know and everyone raised an eyebrow at? Surely not!

  As the confusion in the room thickened, it raised Isaac’s defenses.

  When Eva had offered Isaac the position, she’d said Mr. Roberts approved and Leonard too. Had this Eddie McIntosh also interviewed with Eva and worked on the farm with Leonard for a day? Had he kept in contact with them while he fulfilled his other obligations and packed up his life and moved to the middle of the Land?

  Isaac held back his questions and his defense, wanting to give them the chance to come to the best choice on their own. He gave the others a quick study, sizing up the situation while they waited for Leonard to sort out the matter with Frederick. Eddie cracked his knuckles one finger at a time and swallowed frequently, his Adam’s apple lifting and lowering. Eva stared at Solo, a twinge of helplessness behind her staunch businesswoman facade. Solo gave her an assuring nod but kept his face aimed at Frederick and Leonard.

  Whatever Eddie’s claims were, Leonard would straighten it out. If the young man got upset about being denied the job, Solo looked capable of handling him. And Isaac wouldn’t hesitate to step in if needed. It might give him his first chance to show the people of Falls Creek that he would indeed protect what was theirs.

  But as it was, this wasn’t his battle.

  Sybil returned from the kitchen holding the first two plates of food, hunks of roasted meat and boiled vegetables swimming in gravy. Isaac’s appetite took charge of his thoughts. He scanned the tables she was setting, wondering where he should sit.

  Frederick’s chair screeched on the floorboards as he stood. He didn’t leave his table but only pointed a finger at Eddie, his voice gravelly but powerful. “Yes, I hired the McIntosh boy to take over the farm for Leonard. His granddaddy and I have known each other our whole lives. When I got word Abe had passed and his grandson needed work, I promised the job to him.”

  Eva’s fists shot to her hips. “Father, I had already hired Isaac Owens and you knew it.”

  “This is between us men.”

  She covered her forehead with a stable hand, but it didn’t hide her exasperation. “Leonard, please talk some sense int
o him.”

  Frederick’s volume grew. “Now, missy, don’t you try to come between men. You do a lot of good around here, so I’ll let it slide this time. But you mind your manners in front of guests.”

  Isaac didn’t see any guests of the inn here. Just the Roberts family and a man who was here to take his job.

  The crash of a plate hitting the floor resounded from the kitchen. Sybil must have heard Frederick’s words.

  Leonard’s hunched back let his head droop even more as he left Frederick’s table and rejoined the group in the middle of the dining hall. Eva’s shoulders lowered in defeat.

  Isaac couldn’t stand idly by any longer. “Mr. Roberts, your daughter is correct. When I accepted the job, you shook my hand and said you were looking forward to when I moved here and started work. Well, I’m here now and ready to work.”

  Frederick waved a hand weakly as if shooing a gnat. “Fine, fine.” Before Isaac could take a breath of relief, Frederick continued. “Since we hired both of you, you can both work the winter. At the end of the season, on the spring equinox, Leonard can choose which man he wants as his replacement. No staying in upstairs rooms, either. You boys can sleep in the bunkhouse. Rooms are for paying guests.”

  For a brief moment everyone froze, Eddie with the lump in his throat mid-swallow, Eva lowering her hand from her brow, and Leonard with his swollen fingers shaking faintly. Immediately, looks flashed between everyone in the room.

  Eva’s fist went back to her hips. “Father, the job belongs to Isaac. And I promised him an upstairs room until we can get another cottage built, remember?” She didn’t wait for her father to answer but gave Solo a pained look. “He’s making a liar out of me.”

  Eddie cross his boney arms, his slight smirk reminding Isaac of his brother. “Yes, sir, Mr. Roberts. If you want me to work the winter as a trial, I will, sir.”

  Eva looked at Isaac then. “I am so sorry about all this.”

  Eva, Leonard, and Solo all wanted him there. Frederick wanted Eddie. Frederick owned the place and had the final say, but it was no secret the older man was losing his mind more each day. A vile mixture of indignation and guilt swirled inside Isaac. The job was rightly his and he needed it to prove himself to his family.

  Well, if he could prove to his family he was the right man to manage the farm at Falls Creek, he could prove it to these people too.

  If he would ever be a man in charge of something important, it would be here and would start with staking this claim. He filled his voice with confidence. “If that’s what you think is best, Mr. Roberts. I’d be happy to work the season to secure the position.” He moved only his gaze to Eva. “And I don’t mind the bunkhouse.”

  * * *

  After an awkwardly quiet lunch and then a long afternoon of listening to Eva complain about their father’s decision, Sybil shredded the leftover roasted meat for sandwiches. She piled it onto thick slices of fresh bread, covered each portion in gravy, and served canned peaches for dessert. Sunday dinner was always the simplest meal of the week, and no one seemed to mind.

  The overcast sky had faded from gray to black as night settled across the Land. Once the dishes were washed and dried, Sybil sat at the tile-topped dinette table next to the inside wall of the kitchen between the two doorways and started planning tomorrow’s meals.

  She flipped open a palm-sized notebook where she jotted down menu ideas. Occasionally, she would scribble in a recipe, though she made most dishes from memory or intuition. Scrolled across the top of one page were the words Wedding Cake.

  The Pleasant Valley overseer’s wife had given her the recipe years ago for Eva and Ezekiel’s wedding. Sybil had only been sixteen when she’d baked their cake, and now she barely recognized the writing as her own. Maybe someday she would get to bake another wedding cake. Maybe her own.

  Men’s voices boomed in laughter from the dining hall where Isaac and Solo were still seated at a table, playing cards. Everyone else had left—Frederick up to his room, Leonard and Claudia out to their cottage, Eddie to the bunkhouse, and Eva was upstairs giving Zeke a bath before bed.

  Sybil craned her neck to peek down the hallway, but couldn’t see into the dining hall from where she sat. She knew the sound of Solo’s laugh, so the other lower voice must be Isaac’s. One said something to the other, though she couldn’t decipher their words, then they laughed again. Isaac kept laughing after Solo went quiet. The happy rhythm of his throaty chuckle made Sybil smile.

  A moment later, Eva descended the stairs and walked to the kitchen. The clip of her footsteps was always lighter at night. Zeke must be in bed.

  She turned into the kitchen, her voice at a quieter nighttime volume but still forceful with frustration. “What an exhausting day! What a blunder! Can you believe what Father did to me? To Isaac? To Eddie? This family must look so foolish to everyone.”

  Sybil had listened to Eva’s complaints every time her sister had stepped into the kitchen all afternoon. Though she didn’t enjoy the situation any more than Eva did, she didn’t want to end the day talking about it. She hummed one single note in response and flipped the page in her little notebook, trying to concentrate on what she was reading. If she could just get the menus planned for the coming week, she could go upstairs and crawl into her soft, quiet bed.

  “Syb?”

  “Yes?” she answered without looking up.

  “Solo keeps telling me not to worry about it. And that since Isaac and Eddie both agreed to let Leonard chose which one of them gets the job after three months, it’s no longer an issue to discuss.”

  “That seems wise.”

  “Wise?” The annoyance in Eva’s voice upped her volume. “Father never said a word to me or Leonard about Eddie. Not one word. Even when Father has his worst days, he manages to tell me when traders have given him messages—messages they should give directly to me, by the way. He manages to tell me when we’re low on soap in the washroom or when Zeke does something funny. But this hiring a man for a job that is already filled, this he forgets to tell me.”

  Footsteps thudded down the hallway, and they both froze. Eva gave Sybil a look as if to say who is it and how much did he hear?

  Frederick stepped into the kitchen, wearing his long nightshirt. “What’s all this?”

  Eva grabbed a dish rag that was hanging over the sink, drying. “Nothing, Father. Just finishing up for the night. You’re in your pajamas. Go to bed.”

  He scratched his bearded cheek. “I was in bed. Couldn’t sleep. Something I needed.”

  Eva wiped the already-cleaned countertop, viciously scouring its surface. “What do you need?”

  “Can’t recall.”

  Sybil walked to the dish shelf and took down a cup. “Perhaps a drink.” She pressed the foot pedal beneath the sink and cold water flowed from the faucet. “Here you are. Take that upstairs with you. Night night.”

  He looked at Sybil, his bloodshot eyes clouded with confusion. “All right. Thanks, Peach.”

  That was his nickname for Eva. He’d never given Sybil a nickname, and it always made her a little jealous of her big sister. He’d also never mixed up them up before. Perhaps it was a simple slip of the tongue. She waited for him to correct himself, and by the high arch of Eva’s derisive brow, she was waiting too. But he didn’t.

  “Good night, girls,” he said as he hobbled out of the room. “Sleep tight.”

  Eva stopped scrubbing and slowly hung the rag back up. She whispered, “Do you think he heard us before he came in?”

  Us? Sybil almost said. She wasn’t the one speaking ill of him. “No, he would have said something if he had.”

  Eva leaned against the counter, her strong shoulders slumped. “True.”

  “What will we do when he can’t remember us at all anymore?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I wish Revel were here.”

  “So do I. But there isn’t anything we can do about that either.” Eva pushed away from the sink and walked to the doorway.
“Are you going to bed soon?”

  Sybil held up her little meal-planning notebook. “Yes, I’m almost done. You?”

  “Solo and I are going out to the front porch for a while.”

  “It’ll be cold out there.”

  “Not to us.” Eva pressed her lips together in a faint grin. “Night.”

  “Night.” Her fingers flipped the page in her notebook, but her eyes watched her sister’s sweetheart. Solo was waiting for Eva in the hall by the reception area. He put his hand to the small of her back and walked her to the front door.

  As its latch clicked shut, a chair scooted across the floor in the dining hall, and Isaac walked into the hallway. As he neared the kitchen, she looked down at her notebook on the dinette table not wanting to seem too eager. His footsteps stopped at the doorway, so she glanced up as nonchalantly as possible.

  He stepped one foot into the kitchen then leaned a hand against the doorframe. His shirtsleeves were cuffed to the elbows. “Excuse me, Miss Roberts.”

  For the past three months, she’d imagined moments like this with him, quiet exchanges in the halls, private conversations in her kitchen. In those fantasies she always had something witty and mature to say, stirring in him a deep desire to know her more.

  She straightened her posture and tried her best to be sophisticated. “Please, call me Sybil.”

  “Sybil.” Little creases formed at the outer corners of his eyes as he grinned. “Dinner was exquisite this evening.”

  Exquisite? Roast and gravy sandwiches? She doubted it was exquisite, but at this point he could have said the sky was plaid and she would have accepted it. She opened her mouth to reply and it took a few extra seconds for her words to form. “You’re very… or, rather, quite kind. You’re quite kind.”

  She wanted to slap herself on the forehead. What a ninny! Had she really fumbled like that?

  He angled his head a degree and studied her briefly. “It was one reason I was looking forward to moving here, to Falls Creek.”

  “What was?”

  “Your cooking.”