Cast of Characters 
Ned Logan               Sean Logan
Clay Logan              Alice Logan
Lexy Logan              Isaac Peters
Marita Peters           Vivian Winters

Original Characters 
Guff Peters             (Isaac's brother)
Simily Peters           (Guff's wife)
Jessie Mims             (Simily's best friend)
Lawrence Milton         (Peters' family friend)
 
 

Lexy threw rocks into the creek while she thought about her dilemma. She didn't know which way she needed to go. Putting on pretty dresses and piling her hair up on her head didn't sound all that fun. However, she didn't want to play in the barn and climb trees forever either. I bet Mama would know what I'm supposed to be doing right now, Lexy thought. Nothing felt right; she didn't fit in anywhere anymore.

She was so deep in thought, Lexy didn't hear the footsteps behind her. Marita walked along the narrow path to the creek, dead leaves and small branches crackling loudly beneath her feet. At the end of the path was a fallen tree; perched on the large trunk of the tree was Lexy.

Marita smiled at Lexy's back. She loved Lexy and felt very protective toward her. The youngest of the Logan children, Lexy had never known her mother; she had died while giving birth to Lexy. Marita remembered that muggy July night when--

"Marita? How did you find me here? Did Pa send you looking for me?" Lexy's face showed sadness and anger at the same time. Marita, lost in her thoughts of the long-dead Mrs. Logan, was caught off guard by Lexy's question. But she caught her breath, saying nothing as she pulled up her skirt to sit on the log next to Lexy.

"Your pa didn't send me after you. Why would he do that? He knows you ride early every morning. Of course, you're not out riding, are you? Looks like you're hiding to me." Marita smiled, hoping to put Lexy at ease and perhaps to find out why she looked so troubled. Lexy's face calmed a little.

"I'm not hiding," Lexy said defensively. "I'm just thinking, that's all."

"Thinking? Let me guess. You're thinking about . . . how you can get out of Miss Forrester's class today and ride Magnolia." Magnolia was Lexy's favorite horse on the Logan farm. She was a beautiful midnight black with a white diamond-shaped spot on her head.

"No, Marita. It's not about Magnolia." Lexy's voice was filled with doom.

"Then, maybe, this is all about the dance at the Winglers' that you don't have a dress for and Alice has been nagging you about." Marita's smile grew wide because she knew she had guessed right. She had heard Alice talking to Lexy about the upcoming dance repeatedly in the last couple of weeks. Lexy looked away and then threw more rocks into the creek. The last ones were thrown so hard, Lexy almost slid off the trunk of the tree.

"Aw, Lexy, are you worried about the dance?" Lexy finally turned to face Marita, her eyes beginning to water.

"Marita, Alice has been talking about this dance so much I think I'm going to be sick if I hear her say anything else about it." Lexy paused, her bottom lip and chin quivering slightly. "But Alice isn't the only problem."

"Well, what is it?" Marita felt a slight panic in her heart. What could her precious Lexy be so troubled about?

"Nancy Wingler and Sophie Finch, you know them, right?" Marita nodded her head indicating that she did. "They have . . . they have . . . well, they have . . . chests," Lexy finally managed to say, indicating large breasts with her hands. "I don't have any," Lexy said with a sad finality, looking at her own still-flat chest.

As Lexy's words trailed off, Marita wanted to throw back her head and laugh, but she couldn't. It was the same feeling she had when she was in church and it was dead quiet. Something funny would happen, but it would be inappropriate to laugh. But Marita held herself in check. Besides, Lexy's dilemma really wasn't what Marita found humorous; Marita wanted to laugh because she was so relieved that the problem was only that Lexy was trying to figure out how to make the leap from childhood to adolescence.

Marita remembered all too well the feelings of awkwardness and inadequacies of growing up. Like Lexy, Marita grew up without a mother to turn to when she reached that crucial age. In fact, Marita didn't really remember much about her mother, other than the fact that she died from an infection in Tennessee. Then Isaac had moved the tiny family to Kentucky where his best friend, Ned Logan, lived.

"Lexy," Marita said, bringing her mind back to the present. "You don't have to worry. Everything's going to be just fine. You'll be all right." Lexy didn't look convinced. Marita continued. "You have to remember that Nancy and Sophie are almost two years older than you are. They're twelve. You'll catch up to them very soon."

"But they've been teasing me for months. They told me that none of the boys will dance with me because I'm such a tomboy. I didn't think I was a tomboy, Marita. I just don't want to get all . . . all dolled up for a stupid dance." Then after some thought Lexy asked, "Is that what makes me a woman?"

Marita smiled, tickled by the thought. "If only it was that easy. No, baby, dances and dresses don't make you a woman." She tenderly brushed back a stray lock of Lexy's hair. "You will grow to be a woman with or without all those things. It's just nice to have a pretty dress and go to a dance every once in a while."

"I bet Mama would know what to do right now." Lexy's face became sad once again. Then she looked at Marita and she brightened. "Will you help me, Marita?"

"Well, I guess so, Lexy, but isn't that what Alice has been trying to do?"

"Yeah, I guess, but she nags me and whines about my clothes and my hair. You don't do that. Please help me? Please, please, pretty please, please--?"

"All right, all right! But you have to promise to cooperate. No riding clothes at the dance, young lady, and you will be wearing your hair 'dolled' up."

Lexy made a face, but then broke out into a broad smile. Maybe with Marita, this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
 

The smell of biscuits and country ham met Marita and Lexy before they reached the house. Lexy quickened her pace and ran ahead of Marita.

"First, we eat breakfast, then I ride Magnolia, then we'll get started on this dance stuff, right?"

"Nice try, Lexy Logan, but not quite. First, we eat breakfast, then you go straight into the library to study with Miss Forrester. You've missed your time to ride Magnolia. One of the hands will have to exercise her this morning. And as for the 'dance stuff,' as you say, that can wait until this afternoon."

Knowing that she had been caught, Lexy stiffened her posture to resemble a soldier and saluted Marita. "Yes, sir, I mean, ma'am. Yes, ma'am." With that Lexy marched her way to the house and then broke into a run to get to the dining room.

Marita shook her head smiling, "What am I going to do with that child?"
 

Aunt Simily (rhymes with Emily) and Jessie Mims were busy stirring up grits and eggs for the Logans. Beautiful red slices of crisp bacon lay still sizzling on a large platter. "Morning, Aunt Simily, Jessie."  Marita grabbed up the coffee pot--Ned and
Sean liked it strong and hot--and the platter of bacon and headed back into the dining room.

Simily, Isaac's brother's wife, clucked her tongue at the swinging kitchen door. For the life of her, she couldn't understand why poor Marita felt she had to come in the kitchen and help out like she was a servant. Everybody on the farm knew that Marita Peters was Ned's secretary. She wasn't hired to help in the kitchen.

"Leave her be, Simily Peters. Just let that chile alone. If she wanna help us serve in this here kitchen, let her." Jessie Mims, a dark skinned rail-thin woman, patted her scarf-covered head and tried to straighten her apron. "Isaac done raised her right, don't you doubt it. And you and Guff done helped out too. So she all right, Simily. The girl's all right."

"I know she all right, Jessie Mims. You ain't got to be telling me that. But Mr. Logan done made her his secretary. Secretary, Jessie! She doing so good. I guess I just don't want none of the white folks to think she in here . . . like us, cooking and cleaning. That's all."

"Aw, Simily, you sho' is silly. Everybody know that little Marita is special to these here Logans and ain't nobody gonna forget that no time soon. They's may not like it, but it true anyhow." Jessie cackled. " 'Sides, Simily, it ain't the white folks you so worried about no how." Simily jerked her head up from the bowl of grits she was furiously beating and adding butter to.

"What you mean, Jessie Mims? I is too worried about what they think. Some of them already don't like Mr. Logan and his chilluns on account of how they treats the coloreds so good. Now you know I'm gonna worry 'bout our Marita." Simily tried to continue to busy her hands so her real emotions wouldn't show. She loved Marita like she would a daughter, especially since she and
Guff, her husband, never had any children of their own.

Jessie was amused by her friend. She knew that Simily tried to be rough around the edges. Lord, she had to be in order to deal with George "Guff" Washington Peters! But Jessie knew what was at the heart of Simily's distress.

"Well, as quiet as it's kept, a little birdie tole me that you was trying to fix Marita up with some man named Lawrence Milton, I believe. Ain't he from down somewhere's in Madison County?" Simily knowing that her secret had been found out, whirled to face Jessie.

"What you talkin' about, Jessie Mims? You done gone and lost your fool mind? Pardon me, Lawd, for using that word. But you have."

"You can pretend if you wanna. But your very own husband done tole me that Lawrence came to Lexington to stay with his now dead grandmaw, God rest her. He'll stay on if he thinks he can get Marita." Jessie, knowing she had Simily dead to rights, turned back to the oven with a big smile on her face. She loved winning these quarrels with Simily. Of course, she had had plenty of practice over the last sixty some years.

"I'm gonna wring Guff's neck with my very own hands!" Simily screeched, then lowered her voice, remembering where she was. "How dare he tell my business?" Simily threw down a dish towel to emphasize her anger. "I shoulda knowed better. That's just like ol' loose mouth Guff to tell ever thing he know and some he don't. I swear he like an ol' gossipin' hen sometime." Her anger cooling as she hurried to finish preparing breakfast, Simily shot Jessie a sharp look. "Well, now that you know, Jessie Mims, you bet not tell a soul, 'specially Marita. Ya hear?"

"Does Isaac know?" Jessie asked.

" 'Course he know, woman!" Simily said, banging down the bowl of grits with frustration. "What would I look like if'n I was to bring a stranger up here to court his one and only girlchile? Is you crazy? Now hand me them biscuits. They's 'bout as done as they gone git!"
 

Word had gotten around Lexington that Ned Logan and his family ate with the help, and the colored ones at that! It was scandalous, to say the least, according to those of breeding and class. But Ned had always been a strange one, Lexingtonians thought. He was never quite like the rest of them.

Ned sat at the head of the table, talking with Lexy. He had noticed before that his youngest child seemed troubled, but he had been too busy to stop and ask her about it. He thought, perhaps, that it was nothing and that it would eventually pass. But as Ned sat talking to Lexy, looking at her sweet freckled face, he thought of how much he needed Libby, his dearly departed wife, to help him.

Handsome, with his hair smoothed back from his face, Clay was a bundle of nervous energy. Clay resembled his father, with his fair coloring and his fine chiseled features. On this particular morning, ready to shovel his food down in one mighty forkful, Clay tapped the table with his fingertips while his legs bounced nervously underneath the table as he waited for his father to say the blessing. After the blessing, when Jeremy didn't hear him ask for
the butter, Clay stood and reached over Jeremy, rattling several bowls and almost knocking over his own plate in the process.

Sean sat to his father's right. Broad shouldered and tanned, with merry blue eyes that twinkled and belied his strong physique, Sean took two bowls from Marita and set them on the table. His eyes lingered on her back as she walked toward the kitchen to retrieve more food. His stomach turned over and his heart beat faster. Did he feel nervous? afraid? What was this? Lately,
whenever he was around Marita, Sean noticed he felt very strange. Must be the heat and all this work I'm doing lately, he thought.

Jeremy, having almost roused himself to a wakeful state, let his eyes drag sleepily around the table. Not quite awake enough to eat his breakfast, he let his eyes take in the Logans. Needless to say, the difference between Jeremy and the Logans was as obvious as night and day; and fitting in here in Kentucky had not been easy. Brought to the South on a train with only the clothes on his back and a worn leather duffel, Jeremy felt odd next to the wholesome Logan sons.

Sean and Clay were farmers of the land and of horses. They rode the horses and worked in the fields. After that, because of Ned Logan's standing in Lexington, the boys then went to sophisticated parties and were members of the best men's' clubs. The Logan men dressed simply, but with style and class. Jeremy didn't feel that the attributes he brought to Kentucky were as
refined.

Jeremy had never known his father. He and his mother had lived in squalor in a boarding house in New York City until Jeremy was five or six. Then his mother felt she could no longer care for her son. In the dead of winter, she left him on the doorstep of Saint Bernard's Orphanage. Jeremy was wearing two pairs of raggedy paints, a threadbare shirt, and a wool cap. The last memory Jeremy had of his mother was that of her tearstained face retreating in the snow.

Twelve years later, Jeremy had become to old to stay at the orphanage anymore. He was the oldest boy there, the next oldest boy being only eight. Mrs. Mosely, the directress, though bothered by his pranks and petty thievery, kept Jeremy around for two reasons. When Jeremy wasn't in the streets picking pockets, he was at the orphanage helping the other boys do their chores and keeping them quiet. The other reason was that Mr. Adams,
the orphanage's caretaker, was usually too drunk to do his work. Mrs. Mosely was able to get Jeremy to do a few things to help her when he could.

No parents were going to adopt a seventeen-year-old-boy who would soon be a man. Mrs. Mosely dreaded the day when she would have to tell him to leave. Mr. Gordon, the chief director of New York's orphanages was breathing down Mrs. Mosely's neck though. Every time he came to Saint Bernie's, he asked when she was going to tell Jeremy he had to leave. Mrs. Mosely would try to
distract Mr. Gordon with a freshly baked pie or a juicy bit of news she'd heard.

But soon Mrs. Mosely was going to have to let Jeremy find his own way in the world. She wasn't the only one who worried about this dilemma. Jeremy knew that when he reached eighteen, he wasn't going to be able to stay in the orphanage. About a year ago, he had been interested in finding his mother. He hoped she was still around. But how would he know her after all these years? he had wondered. He didn't really remember her face. He had no pictures of her and he didn't know where she had gone after that cold, snowy night. He had tried to ask Mrs. Mosely, but the woman had told him that she had no records on Jeremy's mother.

As he neared his final days in the orphanage, Jeremy was not so concerned with finding his mother. He reasoned in his young mind that if she had really loved him, she would have never left him. Jeremy didn't consider any of the complications or reasons why his mother might have had to give him up. All he knew was that he was soon going to be eighteen and he needed to find a place to go.

As chance would have it, Jeremy soon found his way out of the orphanage.
 

"Huh?"

"I was asking you if you were going to eat your food or let it get cold. Sean and Clay have already left for the stables. I'm sure they're wondering what has happened to you." When Alice mentioned Sean and Clay, Jeremy looked around him and noticed that only he, Alice, and Marita remained at the table. Simily had already begun to clear away dirty plates and bowls. Hurriedly, Jeremy grabbed up the now-cold slices of bacon and slurped down
the not-so-cold mild. Jeremy didn't mind. The food at the Logan farm was far better than anything he had eaten warmed over at the orphanage.

Alice, flirtatiously twisting a curl of brown hair that lay on her shoulder, smiled sweetly at the gulping, slurping Jeremy. No table manners, that was for sure, she thought. I'll have to work on that. But everything else was just right. She watched him eat and saw his hair dip into his eggs as he moved in his hurry to meet his fork. Between bites, Jeremy would self-consciously look up at Alice, his blue eyes catching the sunlight that was now streaming into the dining room full blast.

"You'd better hurry. Pa's got lots to do today." Although she encouraged him to hurry, Alice really wasn't in any hurry for Jeremy to leave. She felt that she could have sat at that table all day watching him eat, talk, whatever. Her heart leaped and twirled each time their eyes met. Feeling a bit silly at her girlish crush, Alice cleared her throat, as if to clear her head, and rose from the table to help Simily with the plates.

Finally, the last bite of biscuit flew into Jeremy's already full mouth, leaving preserves dribbling from his lip and a sticky dollop of the stuff on his fingers. Jeremy, feeling slightly embarrassed, grabbed up his napkin, swiped at his lips and fingers and flew out of the dining room faster than a jackrabbit could flee from a dog. When he skidded out onto the porch, still struggling to put his hat on, he thought how stupid he must have looked to Alice. But he didn't have too much time to think about that. Ned was waiting
for him in at the stables and Jeremy didn't want to further disappoint him.
 

Clay was not as patient nor as forgiving of Jeremy as his father was. Jeremy was a nuisance and a hindrance to work on the farm. Clay wondered how his father could stand to show Jeremy how to do his chores over and over, each time with Jeremy messing things up and then getting in the way. The last thing Clay wanted was to have more work to do. And now this so-called new brother of his was making even more work for Clay, all unnecessarily.

Now that Clay no longer had to sit with Lexy in Miss Forrester's tutoring classes and study, he was free to ride the horses and show his father just how good of a rider and horse farmer he was going to be. Clay had lived so long in his older brother's shadow, that he had been anxious to escape the classroom and help Ned manage the farm. He often dreamed of his future, which included him being in charge of a large farm, just like his father's. This is the dream that made Clay ride hard, work hard, and pray for the
chance to show Ned and Sean what he could do.

But with Jeremy around, Clay felt that Ned had gone from teaching Sean to be a man, to helping Jeremy grow up. When was it going to be his turn to get his father's attention? Well, there were more races to ride in a couple of months. Maybe Clay could make his point then. Maybe then his father would notice how good he was. Until then, Clay just wanted Jeremy to stay out of his way.

While Clay, Jeremy, and Ned tended to things in the stables, Sean had ridden out to a place just north of the main house. This was the land--and many acres further north--that Ned had given him for a wedding present. On this spot, Sean was building a house for himself and his bride, Vivian Winters. Not feeling as elated as he felt this thought should make him, Sean dismounted from his horse and walked around aimlessly, looking out over the softly rolling green hills, imagining how his life would be.

Sean and Vivian's wedding was still several months away, but the house that the couple would live in was still not finished. Sean had been so caught up in what he would plant on the land that he had allowed the building on the house to come to a complete standstill. At the first sign of his growing tobacco crops, Sean had lost interest in the construction site, and had worked doggedly to keep his crops going.

Ned had noticed how hesitant Sean was to finish the house. He had fully expected for the house to be finished by now and standing ready for the couple to move right in after the wedding. Unfortunately, the house was still far from finished. And to complicate things, Asa Winters was beginning to complain to Ned, quite loudly and frequently, that his daughter had already special ordered several delicate pieces of furniture, some from as
far away as Paris. With the house not finished, there was nowhere for Vivian to store the furniture except for in a small, already overcrowded room at the Winters' home.

Weekly, Vivian rode out to the Logan farm or sent word by a messenger to Sean inquiring about the house. Vivian kept telling herself the reason the house wasn't finished was because Sean was busy getting the crop started, or he was helping his father. If she had to do it herself, Vivian thought, the house would be built in time for the wedding, no doubt about that.

Kicking the grass beneath his feet, Sean slowly turned and mounted his horse again. Nothing accomplished today; might as well head back and help Pa, he thought.

Though he started toward the stables, Sean found himself heading toward the house. Along the way, he thought of Vivian. Many people told him that she reminded them of Sean's mother, Elizabeth Logan. In looking at old pictures, Sean could see why people compared Vivian to his mother. Vivian had raven dark hair just like Libby. And both women had creamy pale skin. But to Sean, that's where the resemblance ended. Sean's mother, though strong, had been quiet and reserved. Vivian was anything but. Her eyes danced with a wicked fire and the corners of her lips were either turned up in a toothy grin or turned down in a sulky pout.

Vivian, Asa Winters's only daughter, was spoiled beyond repair and she knew it. She didn't really ask for things as much as she just expected them to appear out of thin air for her every convenience. Sean knew his future bride would be hard to please. Up till now he hadn't thought much of it. But now, as the months until the wedding began to melt away, he began to think that
maybe Vivian's tantrums and demands might be too much for him to handle. When Sean talked to his father about it, Ned suggested that maybe he was getting cold feet.

Not that Ned ever wanted Sean to marry Vivian. The feud between the Logans and the Winters was longstanding. Ned wanted what was best for Sean, but since Sean seemed to want to marry Vivian, Ned had given his hesitant blessing.

Sean didn't think he had cold feet as much as he was beginning to wonder if he wanted a life with Vivian.
 

In his father's office, Marita sat at her desk, which was to the side of Ned's large mahogany desk. She sat with her head bowed, reading the ledger in front of her. While she moved her head from side to side comparing figures, Marita hummed some tune. Sean didn't know the song; he never knew it, but he knew that Marita was always singing or humming something. That's what made her seem so peaceful all the time.

Suddenly Marita looked up and saw Sean standing in the doorway. A grin broke out on her face and she relaxed.

"You scared me, Sean Logan. What're you doing standing in the door like that? Are you spying on me?"

"No, ma'am. I, uh, I was just coming in to, um, get, uh, something."

Marita cocked her head a little and looked at her friend. Just now Sean seemed to be acting strangely. His face was flushed and he was stuttering. That was unusual for Sean. Marita didn't know what the problem could be. "Well, what did you come for? I don't have all day," Marita said gruffly, but with a smile. Sean looked frantically around the room, his eyes landing on a dictionary.

"There it is," he said, as if relieved. Marita looked at Sean puzzled.
"A dictionary? You're taking a dictionary to the stables?" She didn't know whether to laugh or be angry that he had disturbed her work. Ned had left specific instructions for Marita to finish her assignment before lunch. There were some important documents awaiting her figures and then those documents had to be mailed to Frankfort immediately.

But as upset as Marita wanted to be with Sean, for some reason she couldn't muster the feelings within her. Sean reached for the heavy, dusty book and tucked it under his arm, almost losing his grip on his hat. He gave her a lopsided grin and turned and walked out of the study without another word.
 

Then more importantly, Sean was white and from a prominent Lexington family. Marita, though she had lived in a house on Logan land almost all her life, was colored. It would have been illegal for Sean and Marita to see each other romantically, much less marry. Marita's thoughts raced. Why was she even thinking that far ahead? She and Sean had grown up together. They had raced each other on horse and on foot as children. They had played pranks on each other and wrestled in the barn. Even now, neither one was beyond tweaking the other's ear, challenging the other to a foot race from time to time.

Marita smiled at the thought. Just last week while she was helping Clay feed the horses, Sean had grabbed Marita from behind and held her in a tight armlock, challenging her to get loose. Of course, Sean was much stronger and was going to win, but Marita gave it her best effort. She twisted her body and even resorted to trying to kick backward into Sean's shin. Nothing worked. Sean turned her around and tossed her into a bale of hay like a ragdoll. Marita saw her chance to escape and tried to leap up before Sean jumped on her; but she was too late. Sean saw her trying to get away and he quickly pinned her beneath him, laughing and tossing hay on top of her head.

"I won! I won! Admit it, Marita. Say it. Say, 'Sean won.' "

"No. I won't say that. But I will say, 'Get off of me, you brute!' " Her voice sounded angry, but actually Marita's heart was beating  loudly while her voice grew softer. Soon Sean was looking down into Marita's eyes, his breathing heavy and ragged. Marita smiled up at him while Sean looked confused and embarrassed. Sean's hard, muscular body weighed heavily on Marita, but she wriggled beneath him so that she could look more closely at his tanned face.

But before Marita could savor looking deep into his eyes, Sean snapped out  of his trance and jumped up off of her quickly.

"Uh, sorry. I, uh, sorry. Whoo, boy. I'm sorry." Sean ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair, which by now was covered with sawdust and had pieces of hay sticking wildly out of it. Marita, feeling a bit embarrassed as well at the awkward scene, tried in vain to get up from the hay and stand up. Sean saw her slipping on the loosely tied bales and extended a hand. Marita grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, feeling the warmth and strength in the hand, holding on to it even after she had righted herself.
 
Sean stuttered something about having to go find his father, leaving Marita standing in the barn covered with hay.

Marita chuckled to herself over the memory. She had felt silly and
childish after the incident. Maybe she should tell Sean that they needed to act more grownup now that they were adults. Marita knew her father and aunt would probably kill her if they could have seen her in that stable tussling with Sean like that. But she couldn't deny that she had felt something that she hadn't felt when they were children. This new feeling was part of what had been troubling her. Marita knew what was happening, but she was confused and saddened that it was happening to her and Sean.
Why Sean?
 
But her feelings for Sean weren't the only thoughts troubling Marita. The other problem that had driven her to the creek earlier that morning had to do with Lawrence Milton from Madison County. Marita wasn't oblivious to her father's and her aunt's efforts to bring the two young people together. Isaac was always looking for excuses to send for Lawrence, who seemed to be living in his grandmother's house in Lexington. After a day's work, Lawrence and Isaac ended up in the small parlor of Isaac and Marita's house, talking over the events of the day and eyeing Marita, who darted in and out of the house.

"Marita, Lawrence, here would sure like a glass of something cold.
Wouldn't you, Lawrence?"

"That would be mighty fine, sir. Yes, I would like something if Miss Marita don't mind. I don't want to be no bother."

"No, no bother, son. No bother at all. Marita don't mind." Isaac would eye Marita and almost will her into the kitchen to stir up some iced tea or some lemonade. Marita knowing exactly what Isaac was doing, would smile tightly and think of some excuse to escape.

"We don't have anything made up cold, but Aunt Simily has some over at the Logans'. Be right back" Marita would then race for the door and it wasn't  until she was halfway across the field that she would breathe a sigh of relief. Isaac had told her many times that he was getting older and that the last thing he wanted to do was leave her, his baby girl, without the security of a man in her life. He knew that as long as Ned Logan was alive, Marita would be cared for, but Isaac was thinking more of a husband who would love and care for his daughter in the years to come.

The thought disgusted Marita. Not that Lawrence was disgusting. Many of the colored girls had already asked Marita what was taking her so long to marry such a nice, tall man like Lawrence. Actually they were positioning themselves so that in the event, God forbid, that Marita wasn't interested in Lawrence, they could be next in line. Marita didn't care. Lawrence was nice, soft-spoken, polite, and he got on well with her father. But when Marita was with him, she didn't feel anything, no passion, no desire, no longing. These were the things she longed to feel, these were the emotions of her dreams. Maybe if she could at least feel for Lawrence what she felt for Sean . . .

The sound of the door slamming right outside Ned's office brought Marita back to life. Suddenly she looked around her and then at the clock on the mantle, softly ticking the time. How long had she been daydreaming? she thought. Although she was on the last page of her assignment, Marita had lost quite a bit of time thinking about Sean and Lawrence, mostly Sean. Now she would have to race like a madwoman to finish before lunch. However, Marita took caution to slow down long enough to recheck her work to make sure it was correct.

 Just as Marita was closing the ledger and stacking documents for Ned's final look and approval, she heard voices in the foyer. Checking the  study's clock again, she surmised that the farm was coming to a halt for Simily and Jessie's fabulously prepared lunch. Hurriedly, Marita straightened up her desk and headed out of the study on her way to the kitchen to help Simily with serving lunch. Marita heard a woman's staccato laughter at something that had been said. Cutting through the parlor on her way to the kitchen, Marita came face to face with Vivian.
 

But the Winters were a different story. Vivian grew up in a house staffed by colored servants who were seen only when necessary and never heard from. Unlike the Logans, the Winters took full advantage of their place in society and considered poor whites and coloreds to be second-class citizens. Vivian had no sentimental feelings at all for the coloreds who had intersected her life; and as she stared at Marita, she found it puzzling and just plain strange that this colored girl, though her own age, could roam freely around the Logan's fine house, as if she, Marita, lived there.

Marita, stopped in her tracks by the sight of Vivian, stood just inside the parlor sizing Vivian up. Since leaving childhood and adolescence behind, Marita and Vivian both had blossomed into beautiful young women. Though dressed simply, Marita's brown skin shone warm in the early afternoon sun streaming through the parlor windows. The loose chignon atop her head allowed a few curly brown wisps of hair to escape and frame her pretty face. She had dark, chocolate brown eyes and sensuous lips that were full and pouty. Vivian, dainty in emerald green, had tightly coifed hair set off by a green and black bonnet. The green of her dress and bonnet emphasized the creamy white skin she tried so hard to protect from the sun.

Clay, still talking and oblivious to the brief, but silent, spar between Marita and Vivian, continued to talk animatedly of horses and races. Not until Lexy came bounding through the parlor did either woman move.

Does she know? Marita wondered, thinking of whether or not Vivian knew of her feelings for Sean. But that was ridiculous, Marita reasoned. She herself was just now figuring out her feelings for him, so Vivian couldn't possibly know.

For her part, Vivian was oblivious to Marita's feelings for Sean. She could barely accept the fact that Marita was allowed the freedom to do as she pleased on the Logan farm; so it was inconceivable for her to imagine Marita falling  in love with Sean. It troubled Vivian that she would have to marry into such a free-thinking clan; but everyone had always expected her to marry Sean Logan, and that was exactly what she was going to do, even if she had to grit her teeth and close her eyes to these uppity coloreds!

Simily entered the parlor and quietly announced lunch. Now that's the way it should be, Vivian thought, as she watched Simily retreat back into the kitchen. Vivian believed that colored folks should stay in their place and not aspire to be secretaries or whatever it was that Marita called herself.

Clay extended his arm to Vivian to escort her to the dining room table.

"Oh, I won't be staying," Vivian said.

"But I thought you were going to have lunch with us." Clay looked at Vivian in confusion. But Vivian busied herself with arranging her gloves and fussed over her bonnet. There was no way she was going to sit at the same table with Marita Peters, no matter how much she wanted to see Sean.

"I just wanted to talk to Sean. It was a little something about the house. Then I must be on my way. Daddy's waiting for me in town." With that Vivian stood and looked around for Sean, who was just coming in from the stables.

"There you are, Sean. Clay has been sweet enough to keep me company while I waited for you." While her words dripped with honey, there was a prickly emphasis on the word waited. Vivian Winters didn't like to be kept waiting.

"I didn't know you were here, Vivian. Sorry I kept you waiting. Maybe we can talk after lunch." By this time Marita had excused herself from the parlor to help Simily and Jessie in the kitchen. Clay, his feelings slightly hurt from Vivian's sudden change in mood, had wandered off into the dining room alone. But as Vivian thought of Marita, and perhaps Isaac, who certainly would be joining the Logans for lunch, she drew herself up to her full height and once again refused an invitation to eat. Thank God she and Sean would have their own house to eat in after they got married.

"No, Sean. I won't be staying for lunch. I just came by to check on how things were going with our house. You know, Daddy's getting curious. He rode out here the other day and he tells me that there hasn't been anymore work done on it. Of course, I haven't been out there. I wouldn't know," Vivian said, hoping that Sean would assure her Asa had been wrong. "But I was hoping you and I could ride out there and take a look around."

"Uh, Vivian, I can't do that. Pa really needs me right now. We've been short a few hands, and, well, the farm comes first."

"I see," Vivian said shortly. "So you haven't done anything else for our house, have you? Of course, I should have believed Daddy. But I just had to come see for myself." Vivian began to pout. Sean hated it when she started pouting.

"Sean, did you know that I have a three hundred dollar chaise lounge, sent all the way from Paris, sitting in the attic because I've run out of space to put my things?" Sean looked at her bewildered. "I'm running out of space to put all our furniture, dear. You need to get our house finished so I can move things in there."

"Just stop ordering the furniture, Vivian." It seemed so simple to Sean.

Obviously it wasn't so simple to Vivian.

"Stop? I can't do that. Do you know it takes weeks, sometimes months to order just the right piece. And then there's the fabric, which is handsewn, might I add? Then there is the shipping of the furniture, Sean. You do want our house to be lovely, don't you?" Vivian had just about worked herself up into a fit of frustration.

Sean resigned himself to the situation. Vivian was going to continue
ordering the furniture; and he was going to have to get the house finished soon.

"I'll start the men back to working on the house tomorrow, all right?" Sean hoped his answer would satisfy the desperate look in Vivian's eyes. He wasn't too sure that he had succeeded. Vivian came close to Sean and stood on tiptoe, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Sean accepted the kiss but made no move to kiss Vivian back. Vivian, seeming to be satisfied that Sean was going to go to work on their house the following day, gathered her things and went to the door.

"Maybe I'll come by tomorrow, I can fix us up some lunch, and we can have a nice little picnic where our future manse will be. How's that?" Not waiting for an answer, Vivian twirled toward the door in a cloud of emerald green, and with that, she was gone.
 

Marita thwacked Sean soundly on his backside with a scrap of wood, causing him to spin around in surprise. "What the--?"

"Hello," Marita said innocently, trying to hide her mischievous smile. "I've caught you falling down on the job, eh?"

"No, you didn't. I was . . . I was just waiting for--"

"Don't lie. You were daydreaming." Pause. "Daydreaming about
Vivian?" Marita held her breath, thinking she knew the answer already.

"Uh, actually, no, I wasn't. I was thinking about Ma." Marita was surprised. Though Elizabeth Logan had been a much-loved member of the family, since her death no one spoke of her much, though she rested in their thoughts.

"Yeah, I was thinking about how she and Pa used to take walks out here, stand on this very hill, and look out there. They used to say that maybe they could divide the land and all of us could live together here, stay close, you know? Sometimes they would stay out here for hours, just planning, talking." Sean shook his head at the memory, then he chuckled. "Clay and I used to sneak up on them and try to hear all the things they talked about. When they would catch us hiding behind the trees or lying in the grass, they would call us up here and tell us about their plans for us." Sean closed his eyes against the threatening tears. "I miss that."

Marita felt her heart almost bursting with compassion for Sean. She could see that he was very obviously struggling with something important. Marita didn't say anything. At the moment, Sean was back in time and Marita didn't want to disturb his memories. She felt that he needed to remember his mother and the past to perhaps help him deal with whatever he was presently facing. But then Sean came out of his daydream and focused his eyes on Marita.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Sean asked.

Sean and Marita walked in silence for a while, respecting the hush of the late afternoon. Even the sounds of the builders had faded and all Sean and Marita could hear was the leaves rustling ever so slightly. "It's so beautiful out here. You'll have a great view from your house." Marita hated to think of Sean and Vivian living together, enjoying the beauty of the Logan land. She cringed to think of it.

Sean remained quiet while he sat on the grass. Marita stood next to him looking off into the distance. Sean tugged on the hem of Marita's skirt and extended a hand up to her. She took it and eased herself down close to him. Marita, feeling that nagging awkwardness that had haunted her for the past several months, didn't know what else to talk about, so she continued to try to talk of the new house, trying to be happy for Sean and his new life.

"How much longer do you think it will take before the house is finished? I hear Vivian is really anxious to move some furniture in."

"Another month. Maybe more. I still have to help Pa. And I need time to work with my crop. Vivian and her furniture can wait." Sean sounded distracted, somewhat troubled. For the first time since they left the building site, Marita looked, really looked, at Sean. The usually merry blue eyes were clouded with sadness and his handsome face was troubled.

"Sean, are you all right?" Sean answered by looking at Marita, his face a display of confusion and agony.

Sean looked at Marita as a light breeze blew her hair around her face. She's so beautiful, Sean thought. Her concern for him was evident on her face, but it did nothing to mar her beauty. Sean looked deep into her eyes and remembered some of their childhood antics. He remembered teaching her how to ride a horse. Then he had teased her mercilessly until she was able to climb a tree as well as he could and better than any other boy for miles around. How many times had he chased her with frogs and snails until one day she hadn't been afraid of the creatures at all?

Then as he and Marita had sailed into adolescence, Sean had taken Marita fishing and let her teach him a smattering of French. They had taken long swims in the lake near the farm on hot summer days. And at age sixteen, Marita had caught Sean trying to kiss Lucy Dunn behind the stables. It had happened during a birthday party for Clay when all the adults and the rest of the children were up at the house. Marita had gotten bored with the children's games, so she had taken a book from Ned's library and snuck out where could she read in peace. It was when she was walking aimlessly near the stables that she had caught Sean and Lucy. Sean saw Marita and chased her back to the house. He made her swear she wouldn't tell a soul, especially Vivian. If she did, Sean threatened to tell Simily that it was Marita who had taken a bit of her blackberry cobbler before dinner the week before. Simily had blamed Sean or Clay for the missing bite.

Now Sean saw before him a beautiful, sensuous woman, a woman who had recently begun to cause deep emotions to stir within him. Sitting close to Marita on the grassy hill, Sean felt a longing, a pull that made him want to draw closer and closer to Marita. Sean looked at Marita's full, slightly parted lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss them. What would it be like to caress her satiny brown skin? Sean's thoughts raced as he thought of holding Marita in his arms, crushing her body to his. The thought of breathing in her scent made Sean weak. Marita always smelled of lavender. Now the scent intoxicated Sean, and he leaned toward Marita, lifting his hand to stroke her face with his fingers.

"SEAN?" Clay's voice rang out into the air. "Sean? Where are you? Pa wants you at the stables and Vivian's here." Clay called impatiently over the hill. Sean looked at Marita and then at his hand as if surprised to see it so close to Marita's face. What was he doing? This was crazy! He abruptly dropped his hand and stood up, brushing off his pants. He mumbled something about seeing her back at the house later and trotted down the hill toward the house.
 

"You missed lunch. Boy, Jessie really outdid herself this time. She made a lemon pie for dessert!" At this, Marita turned her face to Alice, a wistful smile on her lips, but Alice wasn't convinced that Marita had heard her at all.

"Is everything all right, Marita? Are you sick?"

"No, Alice, I'm fine. I've just got a lot on my mind. I needed some time to think." Alice came in and sat on the low stool across from Marita. She thought of Marita as the older sister she had always secretly wanted. She didn't mind having Lexy, but with her mother gone, Alice had always dreamed of having a female older than she was around to talk to and get advice from. Marita, having grown up on the Logan farm and having been close to the family, fit that description better than anybody else Alice knew.

"This isn't about Lawrence, is it?" Though Marita's thoughts were a million miles away from Lawrence Milton, she smiled, not saying anything. She couldn't tell Alice right now about how she thought she was falling in love with Sean. Marita didn't know how Alice would take the news. Besides, there was so much to think about and Marita wasn't ready to share it with anyone just now. But looking into Alice's face, Marita knew that the caring young woman would not be satisfied until Marita talked.

"You could say that, yes, I'm thinking about Lawrence." If you mean how to avoid marrying him, Marita thought.

"He's cute. You two look good together," Alice said with a confident smile.

Marita wanted to groan. "We do? What makes you say that?" Marita laughed in spite of herself.

"Well, he's tall and handsome. You're beautiful. What else do you want?"

"I think it takes a little bit more than that, Alice," Marita spoke
truthfully.

"All right, he gets along well with your pa, he's a hard worker. I think Pa would hire him on the spot, which is really great because then maybe you two could live here or real close by and you wouldn't leave me," Alice said, with a twinkle in her eye.

"Do I detect a bit of selfishness here?" Marita raised one eyebrow and looked at Alice mockingly.

"Not a bit, Marita. You're free to marry whomever you wish. But I like Lawrence, and he looks as if he's going to stay right here in Lexington, so . . ." Alice looked at Marita hopefully.

"Well, thank you, ma'am, for allowing me the privilege to choose my husband." The conversation, though serious in tone, served to lighten Marita's mood. She loved Alice just as much as Alice loved her, and Marita knew that her friend only wanted to see her happy.

For now the troubling thoughts of her feelings for Sean and what happened out on the hill were beginning to fade away. Besides, Marita still had work to do before the day was over. She rose from the rocking chair, and linking arms with Alice, walked across the field to the Logan house.
 

At least Alice had stopped nagging her about it, Lexy thought. Of course, for the past couple of days, Lexy saw that Alice seemed busy with something else. She didn't know what, but it was unlike Alice to let up being bossy so easily.

At that moment the object of Alice's distraction sat over by the window reading. As Lexy contemplated her next move in the checker game, Alice took those few seconds to gaze across the room at Jeremy. When Alice got too carried away in her daydream, Lexy would clear her throat and get Alice's attention back to the game.

"What's the matter with you?" Lexy asked, after having to clear her throat several times. She thought Alice was having woman problems or something.

"Nothing, squirt. Just play!" Alice said impatiently.

"But it's your turn, silly." Alice, sheepish, studied the checkerboard once again. The pieces were a swimming picture of red and black. For a second, Alice could barely remember if she was playing the red pieces or the black pieces. She looked across at Lexy's side of the board and surmised that she was playing the red pieces. Distractedly, she slid a red piece forward.

"A-ha!" Lexy crowed in triumph. Jeremy looked up from his book and Ned looked up from his newspaper. Ned chuckled at his younger daughter.

"That was a really stupid move, Alice. What were you thinking?" Lexy said as she proceeded to jump several of Alice's red checkers with her black one.

Alice, having lost all interest in the game now, got up from the table. "Well, it looks like you've won. Great. Good night." And she turned to walk to the front door.

"The game's not over. You've still got checkers for me to jump," Lexy said as she rubbed her hands together in greedy glee.

"So jump them!" Alice said.

"That's not the way the game works, Alice."

"I quit. I need some air. I'm going out on the porch. Pa." Alice nodded her head to her father, letting him know where she'd be. Then she allowed her eyes to glance at Jeremy, hoping he would be curious and follow her outside. No such luck. His eyes were dutifully fastened on his book.

"All right, honey," Ned said, returning to his newspaper.

Lexy sat stunned. How dare Alice quit in the middle of a game! That's a woman for you, Lexy thought. If that's what all the fuss is about growing into a woman means, then no thank you. But then Lexy thought of Marita. Marita never quit in the middle of a checkers game or of any game she played with her. Maybe this woman stuff won't be so bad, Lexy thought. Maybe that's just silly Alice.

"Wanna play checkers, Jeremy?" Lexy asked.

"Nah, Lex. Gotta study," Jeremy said, holding up his book. Lexy,
disappointed, cleared away the game and went to stand beside Ned.

"Guess I might as well go to bed, Pa, since nobody wants to play," Lexy said dejectedly.

"Good night, punkin'. It's your bedtime anyway, but how about you and me playing a checkers tournament tomorrow?" Ned said, hoping to bring a smile to his daughter's face again.

"Sure, Pa." Ned had succeeded. Lexy grabbed him around the neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek before running off to bed.

Jeremy had been reading the same page over and over again since Alice and Lexy started playing checkers earlier in the evening. He had listened to them talk quietly over the game. They didn't say very much that interested him, but Jeremy had been entranced by the sweet sound of Alice's voice. As fate would have it, he had missed the longing glances that Alice had sent his way. Jeremy had been too busy trying to convince everyone in the room that he was really entrenched in his studies. However, if anyone had bothered to ask Jeremy what the name of the book was or what it was about, he couldn't have told them.

As soon as Alice went out the door, the first thing Jeremy wanted to do was follow her right out to the porch. But he thought Ned might guess what he was up to. That knowledge held Jeremy fast to his chair. Instead he concocted a plan. He would wait a few minutes, feign tiredness, and then go to the kitchen on his way to bed. He would then sneak out the back door and walk around the house to the front, finally getting the chance to be with Alice alone.

A few more minutes, Jeremy thought.
 

Marita. She was the one reason he couldn't think straight. Sean knew he had treated her shabbily earlier that afternoon. He had been sullen and unresponsive to her when she was only trying to help him. Then when Sean was about to open up to her, perhaps draw her into his arms as he had been dreaming he would, Clay had called his name and had broken the spell.

I bet she thought I was really dumb, Sean thought, torturing himself with if's and how's and why's. If only I could talk to her. Maybe I should tell her . . .

Tell her what? In all his life, Sean had never thought he would fall in love with his childhood friend. Vivian was supposed to be his wife, not Marita. Sean didn't even think it was legal to marry a colored woman anywhere in the Union, much less in Kentucky. Was that what he wanted to do? Did he want to marry Marita? Is that what this was all about? Sean propped his elbows on his desk and wearily dropped his head in his hands. He was engaged to marry one of the most prominent women in all of Lexington and here he was thinking about another woman, Marita, no less.

Sean wasn't naive. He knew that there were many white men around Fayette County and even in Lexington proper who had colored mistresses. Children every color of the rainbow played in the fields and ran in the streets beside their colored mothers. Many of these women weren't married; and even if they were, it didn't take a genius to know that a dark-skinned colored woman and a dark-skinned colored man were not going to produce children who were so light-skinned they could pass for white.

All these thoughts fell on Sean as he tried to sort out his feelings for Marita and for Vivian. Suddenly he felt an urgent need to talk to Marita, thinking maybe the two of them could make sense of this strange connection they seemed to share lately. Sean didn't think he could afford to let his family in on his feelings. Neither did he feel it necessary to involve Vivian. Maybe this was just a temporary feeling. No sense getting everybody all upset over nothing, Sean thought.

On the other hand, if his feelings for Marita were real, Sean didn't think it would be hard for his family to accept his growing attraction to Marita. Only his engagement to Vivian stood in his way. Sean knew how the Winters felt about colored people. But he would deal with all that later if he needed to. Right now, Sean needed to see Marita.

Sean checked the small clock on his bedside table and put his shoes on. It wasn't too late in the evening for a visit to the Peters' home just across the field. Nobody would think it odd for Sean to race over to Marita's house. For years, Sean and Isaac had had the habit of sitting on the back porch of the house, whittling wood and smoking while Marita cooked dinner for herself and her father.

Of course Sean hadn't made one of these visits in a while. Trying to get his tobacco crop started and going to the Winters' home had left him very little time to sit with Isaac nowadays. But tonight would be different, Sean vowed. Maybe after chatting with Isaac awhile, he could get Marita alone and they could talk.

Sean cut through the kitchen on his way out into the field. Darkness shrouded the house, but in the distance, Sean could see light coming from Marita's house. As he sprinted across the field, Sean didn't see Jeremy on his way to the front porch.
 

Sean heard from the porch the hearty laughter that rang through the Peters' home. The voice was too deep to be Marita's and it didn't sound like Isaac's voice either. Maybe Simily and her husband Guff had stopped by for dinner. Isaac's brother and his wife were frequent guests to the house.

Isaac opened the door and found Sean standing on the porch. Since it had been a while since Sean's last visit, Isaac was mildly surprised, but not alarmed. He had rather missed the young man coming down in the evenings. But because of what he had seen developing between Sean and Marita, Isaac had been a little relieved when Sean had busied himself with becoming a married man.

Just as Sean had thought deeply of some of the repercussions of a
relationship with Marita, Isaac had thought longer and harder of much worse consequences that would befall his beloved child. Isaac already knew that many white folks between the farm and town thought that he and his daughter were way too uppity for their own good. Even some colored folks thought that about Isaac and Marita, preferring themselves to assume the role that colored folks had always taken as second-class citizens.

But what really worried Isaac was that Sean, being Ned's son, would want to be honorable and marry Marita, and Isaac knew that was simply out of the question. He had even voiced his concern to Ned one day, but his friend had told him not to worry. The two young people were probably just going through a phase.

But Isaac had seen the change in Sean, probably more clearly than he had seen it in Marita. He watched Sean cling to Marita well past their childhood and adolescent years. He saw the caring and gentleness in Sean's eyes whenever he looked at Marita. Isaac had seen it all. And although in his heart of hearts he could think of no better man for his little girl, Isaac knew that Sean and Marita would never be able to be together. It was too dangerous. The Klan was very prevalent in the area. All they needed was to get wind of a Logan and a colored woman. Isaac shuddered at the thought.

For that reason, Isaac had hunted high and low for a man like Lawrence Milton. Isaac had known Lawrence's grandmother for years, Mrs. Dorothy Dale, Miss Dot, of German Street, Lexington. Isaac used to do handy work for her right after her husband died some years ago. On occasion Isaac went to visit Miss Dot to see how she was doing. He could tell Dot wasn't well, but he was reassured that she would be cared for by her daughter, Lila, and Lila's son, Lawrence.

It was then that Isaac began to form a plan. He began inviting Lawrence out to the farm, giving him a break from the cramped house in Lexington. Isaac hadn't meant to get Lawrence to work on the farm. Isaac had hoped that at first sight, Marita would be swept away by Lawrence. But even Isaac knew better than that. Even Isaac found the young man kind of dull. But Lawrence was a hard worker, and Isaac liked that.

After Miss Dot passed away, Lila moved back to Georgia, and Lawrence remained in his grandmother's house. He rode out to the Logan farm several times a week to work with Isaac. Isaac often invited the young man to stay for dinner and left Marita and Lawrence to clean up the kitchen so they would have a chance to talk and get to know each other. Despite the fact that Lawrence seemed nice and mannerable, Marita didn't seem impressed in the least. She never spoke of him and seemed to just barely tolerate his increasingly frequent evening visits. That's all right, Isaac had thought. In time she'll grow to love him. Isaac's intentions were to see his little girl safely married and settled. He had already lost one woman in his life, his dear wife Patience. He intended for the other precious woman in his life to outlive him.

Sean's eyes adjusted to the light in the Peters' home. He looked first at Marita and then at a young colored man seated across from her. Not meaning to, Sean tensed at the sight. He immediately wondered who the man was. It wasn't Guff. Then Sean remembered the quiet man from Lexington. He thought his name was Lawrence. Sean had seen him around the farm, but mostly Lawrence stayed close to Isaac, working with him doing odd jobs.

"Well, Sean, come in." Isaac hoped that Sean would make his stay brief so as not to distract Marita and Lawrence.

"No, I can't stay. I just came too . . ." Sean, again, was at a loss for
words, especially as he gazed at Marita. But he kept getting distracted by the sight of Lawrence.

"What is it, son?" Isaac asked.

At that moment, Simily came out of the kitchen, dusting flour from her hands onto her apron.

"Mr. Sean, you comin' in or not? I know you not gonna stand out there and not try my cobbler. I made peach." Simily smiled at Sean. She loved cooking for the Logans, and they loved her cobblers. Guff, sick with some kind of bug, had gone on home, leaving Isaac to bring Simily home after dinner. So there was plenty of cobbler going to waste and Simily didn't like that at all.

Sean was tempted by the cobbler; peach was his favorite. But he felt awkward sitting down with Lawrence at the table. He had envisioned the Peters being finished with dinner and just Isaac and Marita for company. "I don't want to intrude. I--" Sean stuttered.

"Come on over to this table and git you some of this cobbler, son. Come on. We ain't gonna bite ya!" Simily cackled. Reluctantly Sean went over and sat at the foot of the table, the only other chair vacant but Isaac's. By sitting there, Sean had placed himself between Marita and Lawrence, who sat facing each other. Simily, having finished her dinner, sat in the rocking chair by the fireplace rocking back and forth and singing.

"Go on now. Help yo' self," Simily said between lines of her song. Marita handed Sean a clean plate and the spoon from the pan. Sean dipped up the cobbler, not smelling the delectable odor for watching Marita. The plate almost slipped from his hand as Marita's hand grazed Sean's.

"I'm Lawrence Milton. I'm from up Lexington. I think I've seen you 'round the farm." Lawrence extended his hand to Sean.

"Sean Logan," Sean said as he gripped Lawrence's hand. Nice, firm handshake, Sean noticed. But he also noticed something else, something that disturbed him. Although Lawrence was addressing Sean as he spoke, Sean saw that Lawrence had barely taken his eyes off Marita. Marita stared at Sean, her eyes questioning.

At the sight of Sean's tall, lean figure in the doorway earlier, Marita had been more unsettled than her father had been. It was as if her very thoughts had come to life. She had tried in vain to erase the afternoon's events from her mind. Instead, Marita found that she was even more distracted by what had happened. Sean had been about to kiss her! But at the last minute, thanks to Clay's untimely interruption, Sean had stopped. He then seemed almost angry with himself and maybe even her. What had happened out on that hill? Marita wondered.

Marita had hoped to spend some time thinking about just that when she learned that Lawrence and Aunt Simily would be joining her and Isaac for dinner. Resignedly, Marita had accompanied Simily to the kitchen to help her prepare dinner. Unfortunately, she wasn't much help. Simily had to call her three or four times before Marita realized that the older woman was speaking to her. Simily finally shooed her out of the kitchen, getting Marita out of her way. Simily smiled a secret smile, thinking that the poor girl's thoughts were all over that Lawrence Milton.

But Marita's thoughts were further from Lawrence than Lexington is from Louisville. There was only one man in her thoughts right now: Sean Logan.

Marita had endured over two hours on the porch talking to Lawrence before Aunt Simily had called everyone together for her masterpiece of pork chops and gravy, green beans, sliced potatoes, and bread. To top it off, Simily had surprised everyone by making one of her peach cobblers.

Now Marita sat looking at Sean, looking into his beautiful blue eyes, looking for some clue as to what was happening between them. But Sean said nothing, giving nothing away to help Marita know what he was thinking. It was then that Marita, rather hastily, made up her mind. This was ridiculous, she thought. Marita didn't need to ask Sean or anybody else what to do. She didn't see any way that she and Sean could be together. To think otherwise was foolish and childish. Though Marita longed to hear Sean say that he loved her or something, anything, Marita knew the truth. She could never be with Sean.

Marita looked at Lawrence. Though Alice had said Lawrence was handsome, Marita didn't particularly think so. He was neat in his appearance and he had a kind smile, but that was all. But Marita, knowing that Alice, Isaac, and Simily were rooting for her to be with the man, finally caved in. She decided that she would say yes to Lawrence whenever he proposed, which she suspected would be soon. She would give up her silly dreams of being with Sean, and she would give in to reality and accept a life with Lawrence.

Marita turned from Sean and looked into Lawrence's eyes. She didn't see a thing.
 

Marita rose from the table too, and ignoring Sean, she turned a kind face to Lawrence. "Lawrence, wanna sit on the porch until Pa's ready to take Aunt Simily home?" Lawrence, shocked at the sudden sweetness in Marita's voice, hurriedly wiped his hands on a napkin and rose from the table as well. He nearly turned the table over in his haste.

"Of course, Marita. I, uh, yeah, let me, uh, get my hat." Lawrence stumbled over to the front door to get his hat and in two strides of his long legs, he crossed back to the table and offered Marita his arm. The two walked through the back door to sit on the porch, the door closing behind them.

Sean stood for a moment, not knowing what to do. Marita seemed to actually want to be with Lawrence! What was this? Sean didn't particularly think that this man was Marita's type. So who is her type? Sean thought, almost aloud.

Simily noisily gathered her things, clutching a large bag and a dish of leftovers for Guff to her ample bosom. Isaac walked behind her, already having gotten the wagon ready. They both said their goodnights, Isaac waiting at the door for Sean to head back across the field home.

Sean reluctantly walked to the door. It was then that he and Isaac heard the sound of laughter coming from the back porch. Though her laugh was strained, forced even, Marita gave the impression that she was having the time of her life with Lawrence. Isaac heard his daughter laugh and he smiled, satisfied at the sudden change of heart Marita seemed to be having toward Lawrence. Sean heard the laugh and felt as if the sound of it was like a knife plunged into his heart and slowly twisting. There's no way he could have known that in the dimness of the back porch, tears were forming in Marita's eyes.
 

Ever since his first days on the farm, Jeremy had kept his eyes on Alice. She had to be one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. He loved the way her chestnut brown hair cascaded in curls around her face. And that face! It was sheer perfection and beauty. Jeremy thought of the merry eyes that coquetishly caught his own at the dining room table. He thought of the lips that seemed ripe and tantalizing. Oh, the thought of kissing Alice tortured him daily! Many times in his class, Miss Forrester had to rap the table with a ruler to get Jeremy's mind back in the room. Alice, now eighteen, no longer had to sit in the class, just Jeremy and Lexy. But soon Jeremy would be eighteen, and he would be free like Clay and Alice.

After creeping around the house, Jeremy had found Alice sitting quietly on the steps. She was absentmindedly twirling a curl around her finger, as she so often did. When he stepped out of the shadows, she didn't seem surprised. Instead she smiled broadly and moved over to give him room to join her on the step.

"It's nice out here, isn't it?" Alice had asked.

"Yeah." Jeremy hadn't noticed or cared what the night was like. His stomach churned with desire and sitting close to Alice made all the stars, the moon, and the chirping of crickets all but disappear.

"So, what were you reading in there?" Alice asked, not really caring.

"Uh, reading?"

"Yes, reading. What book were you reading?"

"It was . . . Farmer's . . .mmm . . . Farmer's Dream." Jeremy snatched at the first words that came to his love-melted brain. Alice wrinkled her nose.

"I've not read that. I guess Miss Forrester is making you read different books than what I had to read last year."

"Yeah."

Yeah? Was that all he could say? Jeremy wondered. An awkward silence fell all around. Alice shivered a little in the cool night air.

"You cold?"

"A little." Jeremy cursed silently that he didn't have on a jacket that he could then offer to Alice. Then he had an idea. He gently took up both of Alice's hands and held them between his own very warm hands. He began to breathe warmth on the small, delicate hands.

"Oh, my, Jeremy! Um, that feels . . . warm. Thank you." Alice could feel herself blush. Jeremy said nothing. He continued to breathe on Alice's hands and look up into her eyes.

Before long, Alice's hands had warmed and Jeremy placed them back in her lap. He drew closer to her and put one arm around her, drawing her closer to him. Both Alice and Jeremy leaned toward each other and--bonk--their heads collided.

The collision didn't really hurt; both Jeremy and Alice laughed nervously.

"Wanna try that again," Jeremy asked, his deepening voice trembling a little.

"Yes." This time Alice waited for Jeremy to lean toward her, allowing him to part her lips with his. A small gasp escaped Alice's lips as the two kissed, at first lightly, and then more deeply.

Just in time, Alice heard a sound at the door behind them. She forced herself away from Jeremy and wiped her lips. Just then, the front door swung open and Ned Logan stood in the doorway, partially blocking the light streaming from the inside.

"Getting late, Alice. Don't you think it's time to go in? Jeremy, I thought you had gone to bed." Ned glared into the dim light that spilled onto the porch.

"Just needed some air, sir." Jeremy was torn. He enjoyed kissing Alice, but he didn't want to make Ned angry.

"Coming, Pa. Jeremy and I were just talking." Alice hoped she sounded convincing.

Jeremy was the first to get up. He helped Alice up from the step and allowed her to walk through the doorway first. Jeremy didn't want to meet Ned's eyes as he too went through the door. But something pulled his eyes to meet the older man's eyes. Jeremy couldn't read Ned's face. Jeremy didn't know if Ned knew he had just kissed Alice. He felt that not knowing was worse than being caught red-handed. Meekly, Jeremy slid through the door.

"Good night, sir."

"Good night, Jeremy."
 

Ned wanted to laugh at Jeremy and Alice's attempt to make him think he didn't just catch them kissing. He had been their age once, and he knew that something had been happening with the two of them. Only Ned hadn't known that it involved them being infatuated with each other. Ned had seen the distant look in Alice's eyes; and he had noticed Jeremy's inability to do even the simplest task at the stables due to a lack of concentration.

But instead of laughing, Ned closed the door soundly behind Jeremy and went into his study for a while to think this situation over. Jeremy, though he seemed good-natured and willing to fit in on the Logan farm, was not exactly from the most stellar of backgrounds. Not that Ned Logan was one to easily discriminate against anyone based solely on certain circumstances beyond that person's control. But Ned felt that he had to think carefully about the welfare of his daughter and how her feelings for Jeremy would affect her and the rest family.

Feeling that he wasn't going to solve anything as complicated in one night, Ned prepared himself to leave his study and go to bed, leaving the problem of what to do with the two young people to stew until morning.

TO BE CONTINUED.......