ask her what I’d been dying to ask her since our ride into the market yesterday.
“Clara, are we ever going to talk about things?” I asked. I thought I might have to clarify what I meant, but she seemed to immediately know what I was referring to.
“Nope,” she said quickly.
That was just not okay with me. I wasn’t willing to let things go between us, simply because she was scared to talk about it.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because there’s nothing to talk about,” she said matter-of-factly.
“That’s not true, and you know it,” I said. I wasn’t letting up. Not this time. “I think you’re just scared to talk to me, and I want to know why.”
“I’m not scared,” she huffed as she turned her head to stare straight out into the fields.
She was lying. Not only did I already know that she was lying, but I could see her hands shaking as she tried to keep her coffee mug still.
“Yes,” I pressed on. “You are. But there’s no reason to be. Look, I know that we’ve both had crushes on each other for a long time now. You and I have had feelings for each other for a while, and I think we can both honestly admit to that, don’t you?”
She started to stumble over her words, trying to deny it by saying that I was so much older than her, and she never really thought of me as anything other than her brother’s friend. I knew that wasn’t true.
“Stop trying to deny it,” I said. “There’s no reason to pretend like we both haven’t been bottling up our desire for each other for years. We’re both adults now, Clara. Why do you keep pretending that this isn’t happening?”
She whipped her head around at me with a look of unnerved panic. “And why do you keep pushing this issue?” she said.
She almost looked like she was going to cry. I felt horrible because I wasn’t trying to make her upset. I was just trying to talk to her and get to the bottom of what was really going on and what she was really afraid of.
“We had sex, and it was wonderful,” she said in a hushed voice that seemed almost feverish. “And then we let it happen a second time. But—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Clara dropped her coffee mug onto the ground and quickly got up from her seat as if something were wrong. Then within seconds, she dropped down to all fours and wretched over the side of the porch onto the dirt. For a second, I watched in horror as she was unexpectedly sick to her stomach and threw up all of the coffee she had just drunk. Then I scooped her up and raced her into the first bathroom that I could find inside of the farmhouse. I held her hair back behind her neck as she threw up again. When it seemed to be over with, she sat back, and I looked at her pale and clammy face.
“Are you okay?” I asked as I handed her a damp washcloth and a glass of water.
She took a small sip from the glass as she sat on the floor, and I helped her press the cool washcloth to her forehead. She didn’t look good at all.
“I think I need to get more rest,” she answered. Her voice was shaky, and her hands were trembling. “I think I’ve just been pushing myself too hard lately,” she said.
“I’m really sorry,” I said.
I felt awful for having upset her when she wasn’t feeling well. I had no idea that she was under the weather. She had seemed fine, not more than a few minutes ago.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not your fault at all. You’ve been doing so much to help us, and I didn’t mean to get into an argument with you.”
“You need to take better care of yourself,” I said as I helped her to her feet. “You’ve been doing too much, and you haven’t taken any time for yourself. I know you think that you don’t need any help and that you have to do everything all by yourself all the time. But if you don’t get rest and take better care of yourself, then you’re going to end up burning out. Then you won’t be able to do anything for anyone—including the farm.”
“You’re right,” she nodded weakly. “I know.”
“Okay,” I said with one arm wrapped around her. “Then let me help you up to bed.”
Much