Page 14 of Beneath the Harvest Moon

“I hope so.”

He shuffled his feet on the dry, packed earth. This had been a mistake. He should not have come. You still have no sense when it comes to her. He must do better.

The farmhouse door opened, and out rushed Mrs Dixon, who shot a nervous glance between him and Blythe. “Doctor Sharpe,” the woman wiped her hands on her apron. “We were not expecting you today.”

“I thought I would pay an early visit to see how your husband fares.” And you could not resist the urge to see her daughter. He must do better.

“How kind.” Mrs Dixon’s frosty tone belied her statement. “Blythe, take the doctor’s horse to the stable, then you can finish your work.” The woman shot a pointed glare at her daughter.

“Of course.” A brittle smile spread across Blythe’s face.

A pang of pity struck, but such feelings were unwarranted.

He handed over Samson’s reins, and their fingers brushed. Even through the leather of his riding gloves, a jolt of awareness ran up his arm.

Her wide-eyed gaze shot to his. Had she felt it too?

Mrs Dixon cleared her throat.

Heat climbed up his neck. Lord, he was a fool. “Good day, Mrs Simmonds.” He nodded before he followed Mrs Dixon into the farmhouse.

CHAPTER 6

On the road into Midthorpe, Blythe subdued the desire to run back to the farm. Her breakfast lay heavy in her belly, ready to make a reappearance at any moment. She inhaled and pressed on.

Her past would not dictate her future. She should have expected nothing other than an awkward first meeting with Gabriel, even though her heart had longed for more.

Did you expect him to gather you in his arms, tell you all was forgiven, and that he still wanted you after all this time? Deep down, that is what she had dreamed would happen.

Perhaps Mama was correct. Her foolish heart tended to rule her head. It always had when it came to Gabriel Sharpe, with his soft brown curls, brown eyes that saw deep into her soul, and a smile that could melt the frozen beck in winter. Not forgetting his devotion to caring for others. They had planned to provide medical care for their small corner of the county, and she had thrown it all away.

A trickle of sweat ran down her spine when the stout buildings of Midthorpe appeared. She must do this. She could not hide on the farm. Mama may have intended to prevent her from seeing Gabriel, but now there was no reason for her to stay away.

Keeping her head down as she passed the apothecary shop, she turned into the main street. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach when the vicar’s wife approached. “Good morning, Mrs Worthing.”

The woman froze, aghast. Had she hoped to pass by and cut Blythe directly? “Good morning, Miss… Mrs Simmonds.” Mrs Worthing tucked her basket into her body but said nothing more.

Blythe swallowed, then asked, “How do you do?”

“I am very well, thank you, but I am afraid I have a few errands to run and cannot linger.” The woman departed without a farewell.

Blythe blew out a long breath through her nose. What had she expected? In Midthorpe, everyone knew everyone else’s business.

She pulled back her shoulders and headed towards the haberdashery. The bell over the door tinkled when she entered.

“Good morning!” Behind the counter, a young girl smiled. “How may I help you, ma’am?”

The girl appeared too young to recall Blythe. At least she would not be judged twice this day and barely five minutes apart.

“Good morning. I came to enquire about an order.”

From the open door behind the counter, a familiar voice rang out. “One moment, Chloe. I will serve this customer.”

In the doorway, Bess Dawkins appeared.

How foolish to think she could escape this reunion. “Bess! How lovely to see you again.”

Bess dismissed the girl to the back room, then said, “I am afraid we have nothing that will meet the needs of a lady from York.” Bess looked Blythe up and down. Blythe had chosen the plainest walking dress she could find, but the excellent cut of the gown and the quality of the muslin would not go unnoticed by a professional seamstress.