Because of Rebecca - By Leanne Tyler Page 0,14
her his arm and led her to the wicker settee. He couldn’t live in the past forever, and living alone at Oak Hill was not the answer either. He had to move on. Mitchell was right. It was time he began thinking about remarrying and living a normal life again. Not just to replenish his coffers, and keep the Hollingsworth bloodline going, but because he was lonely. He needed a companion, someone to make him feel alive again. Meeting Miss Davis had proven that to him. Besides, he couldn’t expect the duty of producing respectable heirs and carrying forth the Hollingsworth name to fall upon Rory.
“I want to thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Hollingsworth,” Miss Davis said, bringing him back to the present. “You’ve gone beyond what would be expected of an escort at a friend’s wedding.”
“It has been my pleasure, miss… Shouldn’t we dispense with the formalities, Miss Davis?” He took a seat in the wicker armchair. “I know we only met yesterday, but I feel as if we are going to know each other for a long time to come, being Mitchell and Elizabeth’s friends. Won’t you please call me Jared?”
She smiled and her green eyes sparkled. “Then please call me Rebecca.”
Jared reached across the table for her hand as a gesture of camaraderie. She slid her fingers along his; heat reverberated from their silky touch, jolting him in his seat. He pulled back his hand, abruptly breaking the contact.
Still smiling, she tilted her head and closed her eyes slightly. Had she felt it too? He watched her closely for several moments, but she gave no sign.
“Here you go,” a plump woman in a gray dress and crisp white apron said, sitting down a glass pitcher of pale liquid on the table before them. “There are cookies cooling in the kitchen if you get a sweet tooth later on.”
“Thank you, Mary,” Jared replied, glad for the momentary interruption.
“I hope it isn’t too tart.” Mary poured three glasses and took one to Charlotte.
Rebecca accepted the glass he handed her and took a sip. “Just tart enough, don’t you agree, Mr.…I mean, Jared.”
“Just right.”
After finishing their lemonade, they left Charlotte and Mary to visit on the verandah while Lucas slept. Jared escorted Rebecca around the grounds. On the far side of the stables he showed her the empty bins awaiting the late summer harvest of cotton. Then he took her down to where the field hands lived, boasting of the improvements that he’d made to the two rows of quarters in the six years since his father passed away.
“Why’d you decide to change from your father’s way of running the plantation?” she asked, twirling her lace parasol, as they strolled past the small houses.
A few field hands lingered nearby under shade trees, taking advantage of the lazy Sunday afternoon. They called to their employer, and Jared acknowledged them with a courteous nod before answering Rebecca’s question.
He picked up a small twig and snapped it in two as they walked. “I neither liked nor respected my father. He abused my mother as well as those who worked his land. His drinking only made things worse.”
He stopped and stared across the field before continuing. Despite his resolve, his voice cracked when he spoke, recalling the unhealed pain of his youth. “My father’s hand was responsible for my mother’s early death. A body can only heal so much before it is broken.”
He pulled at tall grass near his knees. “After my mother died, I vowed I would be different. No matter what it took, I would not become like my father and would never raise a hand to another.”
Her silence was expected, but he wouldn’t stand for her pity. Jared glanced at her. Instead of pity he thought he saw admiration in her eyes.
“You’re very brave to take this stand when your neighbors cling to the accustomed way of life. Do they treat you differently?”
“Brave? Is it really brave to live by your convictions?”
“It takes courage to go against the grain. Not many men would do it, yet you have made it your way of life. Is that why you decided to help Ruth?”
“Ruth?”
Rebecca nodded and pointed to the larger house on a small hill in the distance. “Who lives there?”
“My foreman. Mr. Paxton and his family live in what once was the overseer’s home. He has three daughters and another child on the way. They’re…they’re praying for a son.”
Rebecca laughed softly. “You don’t sound like you have faith his prayer will