Chapter 3

That afternoon, I was in the yard sorting the food I'd take with me.

The gate creaked open, and Ethan walked in alone.

He'd changed into casual clothes, but he still looked completely out of place in our run-down farmyard.

Seeing me crouched on the ground packing, he came over and looked down at me.

"Was I too harsh at lunch?"

I didn't look up. I kept stuffing dried sweet potato strips into a cloth bag.

"No. You told the truth."

My lukewarm attitude clearly annoyed him.

He nudged the bag at my feet with his shoe.

"Why are you packing all this junk? Are you really planning to hide out in the middle of nowhere for the rest of your life?

"Anyway, I came to talk to you about something."

He paused, and his tone grew stiff.

"Chloe's taken a liking to the dried blossoms from that old locust tree in your yard. She wants to take some back to the city for scented sachets.

"Go pick some for her and put them in a nice box."

My hands stopped moving.

My mother had planted that locust tree with her own hands before she passed.

Every year when it bloomed, I carefully picked the flowers and dried them to remember her by.

Ethan knew exactly what that tree meant to me.

"There aren't any."

I stood and brushed the dust off my hands.

"It rained a few days ago. The flowers all fell. There's nothing left to pick."

Ethan frowned and pointed at a few white clusters still blooming near the top of the tree.

"Aren't those flowers up there? Just grab a ladder and reach them.

"Your leg's bad, so take your time. I won't rush you."

I looked at him, and suddenly it all seemed absurd.

"Ethan, my leg was broken. I can't climb a ladder."

He froze for a second, and then impatience crept across his face.

"Nora, is this really necessary? I'm asking you to pick a few flowers, and you have to throw your leg in my face?

"I ask you for one small favor, and you act like this."

He stepped closer and lowered his voice.

"Do you think if you keep playing the victim, I'll feel guilty about you forever?"

I looked at him quietly.

So that was what he thought. All my silence, every time I'd backed down, was just me playing hard to get.

"Ethan."

I said his name, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you really love Chloe?"

He didn't hesitate.

"Of course. She saved my life. She's the woman I'm going to marry."

I went into the kitchen, came back with a long-handled sickle, and held it out to him.

"The flowers are on the tree. Pick them yourself. I can't reach them."

Ethan stared at the sickle in my hand, his face livid.

"Nora, you're impossible."

He didn't take it. He turned and stormed out of the yard, slamming the gate so hard it shook.

I watched his furious back as he left, then slowly put the sickle back where it belonged.

The last secret ache in my heart vanished with that deafening slam.

That evening, Dad came back from the fields. When he saw my packed bags, his eyes welled up again.

"Nora, are you really leaving tomorrow? That place is so far out, and with your leg..."

"Dad, I'll be fine."

I ladled him a bowl of stew.

"The school there needs teachers. Room and board are covered, and it's quiet. If I stay here, I'll just make everyone miserable."

Dad sighed and didn't say anything else.

He just kept quietly adding food to my plate.

After dinner, I blocked and deleted every contact for Ethan on my phone.

Early tomorrow morning, the bus would stop at the edge of the village.

I'd get on it and go somewhere Ethan Caldwell didn't exist.