I tilted my head in acknowledgment of her reasoning, set my book on a nearby table, and slid past her. “I promise I had nothing to do with this. I’ll take him to the stable and—”
The donkey brayed at me, long and loud. I stepped back. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“Oh, where is John!” My mother sighed. “Take him. Be quick, though. You need to be getting ready for this evening. I don’t want to be late.” She shut the door.
I stepped forward. “Come on, then, donkey.” A rope hung loosely around its neck. I reached for it and the donkey backed away. I reached for it again, and the donkey turned, blocking me.
This was the most nonsensical situation. “Now, see here. I have a ball to go to tonight that I’m not looking forward to, a mother who will be furious if I’m not ready early, and . . . and I guess it’s just those two things. So, let’s get you settled so I can go be miserable.”
The donkey’s ears twitched back and forth. I took that as a good sign. “I promise to find the best stall in the stable for you until we can figure out who you belong to.” The donkey nodded its head, though I doubted it was in agreement to my plan. Perhaps it was laughing at me. I think I would be laughing at me, had our places been reversed.
“I’m just going to reach forward and take a hold of this rope, though it doesn’t really look long enough for much. . . .” I slowly extended my hand. The donkey’s ears twitched again but the beast didn’t move. My fingers closed around the rope and I stepped back.
“There, now. You’re a good donkey, aren’t you? Let’s just go—”
The donkey jerked back, tugging the rope from my hands.
I didn’t have time for this. Mary would be frantic about not having enough time for some new twist she’d just thought up. “This is ridiculous. Wait here. I’ll go find John and he can deal with you.” I started walking across the grass toward the barn, but stopped when the clip-clip-clip of hooves followed. I turned slowly. The donkey was a few steps behind me. I walked a few more steps and peeked back—the donkey was now right behind me, so close I could touch its nose.
“Well, an extra bucket of oats for you, I guess. Donkeys eat oats, right?” We padded in a single-file line to the barn, where the door stood open. “John! Are you here?”
No one answered. I pushed the door open further and strode inside. The horses stuck their noses over their doors and the donkey bumped me, as though wanting to stay close. I patted its nose. “All right. No need to worry. Even if they are four times your size. There’s an empty stall there. Let’s get you settled.” The door was partially ajar, and when I opened it, it appeared as though fresh bedding had been laid and fresh hay stuck out of the feeder. “Well, see? There’s a nice little spot all ready—”
A white rose with a long stem lay on top of a folded letter between the stall’s wooden bars. I withdrew the rose and letter. Miss Brinton was scrawled along the front in the same superb handwriting as the other small notes.
My fingers trembled with hope and anticipation as I broke the seal.
My dearest Miss Brinton,
It was from him. It was from Gregory. I glanced around the barn. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here?
There was no noise but the stirring of the horses. Aside from me, no one was here. I turned back to the letter.
I will never forgive myself the part I played in your sister’s illness, nor in the hurt I have caused you and your family. I have acted with all the selfishness and arrogance you once accused me of. Yet seeing you again—
The donkey shoved at me. Startled, I fell back a step and the donkey made its way into the stall, turned a couple of times, then settled in the bedding.
Huh. Perhaps donkeys were as intelligent as people claimed.
I shut and latched the door.
Yet seeing you again has made me more determined than ever to secure your affections, if it is not already too late.
You once said you found something disagreeable only when it gave you no other choice. I know that I have given you no other choice. Yet if this poor