Chasing Clovers by Kat Flannery

Author:Kat Flannery [Flannery, Kat]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
ISBN: 9781926997384
Google: DbmVpwAACAAJ
Amazon: 1926997387
Publisher: Imajin Books
Published: 2011-11-04T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Livy woke early. She hadn't slept well. She squeezed her eyes shut and held the pillow over her face. She had almost told John about Emma. She had almost lost control. The images of her breakdown re-played in her mind, and she tossed the heavy covers off the bed and forced her legs to stand.

She'd have to go downstairs sooner or later. She groaned at the prospect. She'd prefer later―much later. She splashed cold water from the basin onto her face and put on her light green dress. She glanced around the room looking for her crutch. Where did I leave the blasted thing? She searched her room again, but the crutch wasn't there.

She tried not to think of last night, of John's strong arms around her, holding her tight. She shook her head and hoped the crutch would turn up somewhere.

She opened the door, and smelled the coffee. Hopping to the stairs, she stood there for a few moments wondering how she was going to get down them. She took a deep breath and braced her arm on the rail. She pressed her shoulder into the wall and hopped down one step. It was one step, and she was still on her feet, not sprawled out on the floor. Even though she'd have reached the bottom a lot quicker, that was not the way she wanted to arrive there.

She took another deep breath―the coffee was calling to her―and she hopped down the next step and the next, until she was on the main floor. She hobbled into the kitchen, her good leg tired from limping down the stairs. She was relieved when she spotted her crutch propped up against one of the chairs at the kitchen table. John was seated in the chair next to it.

"Oh." She stumbled backwards, grasping the wall to catch her balance. She wasn't prepared for a conversation with him. What was she going to say? With her bottom lip tucked between her teeth, she chewed nervously. She figured she'd have more time to be composed, rehearse something to say that had nothing to do with last night.

"Help yourself to a cup of coffee. I just made it," he told her without turning around.

She gripped her crutch, relieved to take some of the weight off of her good leg, and hobbled over to the wooden counter, to pour a cup. "Why aren't you out in the fields?" she asked, her back to him. It was much easier if she didn't have to face him.

"Well, there was some trouble last night."

"What kind of trouble?"

She forgot all about her meltdown last night and faced him. His hands massaged his face, and she noticed for the first time how tired and rundown he looked. If she didn't watch it, she'd soon be telling him to go take a nap.

"Rusty was found dead up in the east pasture last night," he said.

"What happened to him?"

"Lead to his horse was wrapped around his neck." His eyes were focused on the table.

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