Page 88 of Miss Ashbury and the Anatomy of Mending a Heart

“I’m not sure—when the time is right, I suppose.”

“Take it from me, Stephen. You don’t want to waste any time apart from the one you love—time isn’t guaranteed.”

Stephen glanced at the clock on the mantel once more. “Enough of this. I’m going after her.”

His mother hummed as she turned another page. “That’s the spirit, dear.”

CHAPTER 27- VERA

The bridge was washed out. Washed out! What was this, the seventeenth century? They’d had to go around. Mr. Frederick said he knew the road. However, as time went on, the road narrowed right along with Vera’s confidence in his proclamation until finally, they were travelling at a snail’s pace, her teeth clacking with the wheels over the ruts in what felt like little more than a rarely travelled footpath.

Vera had just turned to ask Mr. Frederick—for only the second time; she was quite proud of her own restraint—whether he truly knew where they were going. But a flash of light and a great boom directly overhead stole her breath and forced it out in a little scream. It sounded as if they were inside hell’s bass drum itself.

Mr. Frederick yanked on the reins, trying to control the panicking horses; he didn’t notice her small outburst. The beasts reared and screamed right along with Vera. The horses plunged to the side as if in agreement, right toward a smoking tree.

It’s been struck by lightning, Vera thought stupidly.

She gripped the wooden seat with white knuckles and screamed again. Just as the horses pulled them off the dirt road into the gulley, part of the tree swung down like a great axe toward the cart with a groan.

The thickest part of the limb landed neatly between Vera and Mr. Frederick with a heavy thunk. Small branches scratched and slapped at Vera’s face and struck her shoulder. They snatched her bonnet from her head and yanked the tied ribbons forcefully against her throat. Vera plucked the knots loose as she choked, then yanked the bonnet back from the grasping fingers of the branch.

“Miss Vera?” Mr. Frederick’s panicked voice came from the other side of the fallen limb. It was the width of a medium tree, and he had to push the smaller branches apart to see her better. “Are you all right?”

Vera rolled her shoulder experimentally and worked her fingers to be sure before she answered, “Yes, are you?”

“Thank heavens.” He gave a noisy exhale. “That was close.”

Close? Vera wanted to say, but she bit her inappropriate sarcasm back with great effort. They’d nearly been struck by lightning! They were stuck in a gulley, their cart listing heavily to one side, and they’d been hit by a tree branch. “Close” seemed the wrong word for it.

“What about the horses?” she asked.

Mr. Frederick was already climbing down the side of the cart to inspect them. Vera could barely see one of the horses—the branch had divided the animals as decisively as it had separated her and Mr. Frederick.

Her side of the cart was pressed against the hillside, so Vera extricated herself from the tangling branches and awkwardly climbed over the large branch and down the other side, yanking her skirts free of snags several times. When she jumped down from the cart, she landed in rushing water that soaked her to her ankles and wicked up her sodden skirts.

Vera scrabbled up the side of the gulley, back onto the road. She was grateful that Mr. Frederick had been too preoccupied with the horses to notice her ungainly trek.

“Horses are fine,” Mr. Frederick finally said, charging up the side of the ditch. He’d made it look much easier than Vera had—he hadn’t even needed to use his hands.

“Can we push it out?” Vera swiped her muddy fingers against her wet skirts and gestured at the cart.

“It’s wedged too tightly, and one of the horses is trapped in by the branch.” He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the scene again. “I think I should take the one horse and go back for help. I’ll bring men and a saw, we can cut that branch, free the other horse, and get you home.”

Vera blinked. He was leaving her? Here? Alone?

“I’m sorry, Miss Vera.” He frowned. “That horse can’t carry us both, but maybe if you rode it, and I led it…”

She shook her head. “No, that will take twice as long. I’ll be fine. You know the way. Just leave me one of the lanterns, if you would. I don’t fancy being alone in the dark.”

“Of course.” He plunged down the gulley once more and started unhooking the horse.

Vera swatted water from her face. The rain was relentless, coming in great blinding sheets, dancing back for a moment and pounding forth the next. She barely had time to comprehend that Mr. Frederick had freed the horse before he led it up the from the ditch. In the next instant, he swung easily up onto its back, holding one of the lanterns.

“Stay safe, Miss Vera. I’ll be back shortly.”

Vera nodded and gave a little wave. Then he was gone, the feeble light from his lantern swallowed by the gale in mere moments.

Vera shivered and looked around. Alone. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so alone in all her life. Not to mention, exceedingly uncomfortable and cold. Rain splattered the mud of the road, hissed against the water filling the ditch.