A Bloom in Winter by T. J. Brown Page A

though fallow this time of year, lay in full view on the side of the house and Rowena could glimpse the family’s orchards just beyond it. A worn path from the front door led to a barn on a small copse beyond an old abandoned well house. This was a house where the inhabitants might have had help but were no strangers to working the land themselves, which made good sense to Rowena. If one were to live off the land, one should know how it worked.
    No one showed up to help her off her horse, nor to put her horse away. The moment she dismounted, butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her confidence vanished. She shouldn’t behere. What if he was angry that she had come? But surely a man didn’t kiss a woman and ask her to fly with him if he planned on disappearing soon after.
    And, after all, she was a New Woman , not a mouse.
    Gathering her courage, she tied her horse to a nearby tree. He snorted at such treatment, far preferring to be stabled and rubbed down, especially on such a cold day. She knew she couldn’t leave him unattended for long.
    She laid her riding crop on the ground and took a moment to wrap her riding skirt around one side, hooking it into place so she would be able to walk comfortably. Then she stepped quietly to the front door. Hesitating only for a moment, she closed her eyes and knocked, knowing she was breaching about a thousand rules of etiquette. She hoped that his mother, a woman who had lost her husband to suicide, wouldn’t care about such things.
    At the thought of Jon’s parents she almost lost her nerve and ran back to her animal. What was she doing here?
    The door opened and a young girl of about sixteen appeared in the doorway. Her eyes widened when she took in Rowena’s severely cut riding habit of dark Irish linen and the hat tilted just so on Rowena’s head.
    The girl’s brown hair fell untidily down her back and the hem of her ill-fitting dress showed damp stains. “Mother!” the girl yelled. The two of them stared at each other for a moment and Rowena noted the girl had a basket of eggs slung over one arm. Then she slammed the door in Rowena’s face.
    Moments later an older woman opened the door. Her faded hair must have once been as red as Jon’s, and her eyes were the same compelling blue. But whereas Jon’s face was made of sharp, intelligent planes, this woman’s face had been ravaged by grief, and two permanent wrinkles ran from the corners ofher eyes down her cheeks as if worn there by an ocean of tears. The woman, however, wasn’t crying; she was smiling a tentative smile.
    “I apologize for my daughter. We don’t get many visitors back here and she felt she wasn’t dressed well enough to receive anyone.”
    The words were mild but Rowena detected enough of a chastisement to be ashamed. They told her that though this woman wasn’t one to stand on ceremony, she knew what was polite, and appearing out of nowhere was just not polite.
    “I’m very sorry for not sending word of my visit, but I was just riding by and I thought I would inquire whether Jon was home?”
    The woman’s eyebrows rose slightly, but the look on her face softened a bit. “No, he hasn’t been home for the last few weeks. He’s been working in Kent.”
    Relief washed over her like cleansing rainwater, rinsing away all her self-doubt. He was with Mr. Dirkes. He wasn’t intentionally avoiding her, he was just doing his job. Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Oh, I am sorry to have bothered you. I just hadn’t heard from him and was beginning to worry . . . ” Rowena began moving away, her relief making her babble.
    But the woman reached out and caught her arm. “I understand. With a job like his, I worry every day. I don’t know how he can do what he does.”
    “Oh, because it’s wonderful,” Rowena burst out.
    “You’ve been flying?” the woman asked, her voice rising in surprise.
    She nodded, shyness suddenly making her look away. She felt her cheeks heating. “He took me