volume closer and flattened the page he’d bookmarked. The familiar mind blurriness came over him, and he rubbed his eyes. Now was not the time to panic. He’d read the sonnet thirty times this morning, so he’d need to trust the words to work even if he messed up the cadence and rhythm.
“Go on.” Rachel laid a hand on his tense arm, but he couldn’t make head or tail of the first word.
She chomped on her butterscotch and swallowed, her lips slightly shinier than normal with a sweet candy glaze—
“Dex?”
His eyes jolted up to hers. Her cheeks were pink again.
“You need to relax. I’m not going to make fun of you. Tell me if you want me to help while you’re reading or after you’ve finished.”
“Definitely after.” That is, if he could start. He pulled the volume closer and forced his lips to move.
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore—
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
He blew out a breath, fairly certain the afternoon he’d spent memorizing had made his reading fairly decent. “So what do you think?”
She looked at the words on the page, but not at him. “Excellent job. Maybe these lessons have helped.”
“Not that you aren’t helpful, but I think the hours of memorizing had a lot to do with it.”
“Yes, you read so smoothly, it sounded as if you were reciting by heart.”
“I was.” His mouth dried before she looked up at him. “You know, I’d thought you’d think terribly of me a few days back after you heard me read.”
She shook her head slowly. “If people can look down on someone for being smart, I suppose people could look down on others for anything. But no, I don’t.”
“And do you think a smart woman could endure reading letter upon letter of my terrible spelling if she felt something for me?”
“I, uh . . . I’m sure she could.” Her eyes darted everywhere but at him.
“When are you leaving for college?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure I am anymore.”
Wait. That poem couldn’t have changed her plans, even if she’d guessed he meant those words specifically for her.
He scooted closer. “Why wouldn’t you?”
She sighed and ran a leather bookmark through her hand. “I’d be wasting my time. No man seems to want a woman smarter than him. I mean, not that college would turn me into a genius, but the degree—well, what good is it if I don’t intend to fight a man for his job or . . .”
So she did want to get married. He relaxed in his chair. But the twaddle about a man thinking college would ruin her needed to stop. “Don’t give up your dream, Rachel, no matter who tries to change your mind.” Though he wanted to give her every reason to stay like the poet had, she needed to take advantage of the opportunity.
“If I go to school, I’m essentially making myself a spinster.”
“You’re only nineteen.”
“And the earliest I’d get out would be twenty-three.”
Dex winced. That would be bordering on old maid, but if he was waiting for her, she wasn’t doomed. “But you have to go now. When you get married, it’d be too late.”
“Or it’ll keep me from getting married. Jedidiah asked me to marry him only if I’d forget about school.”
“Well, that means he’s a fool. And you wouldn’t marry a fool.” But with that reasoning, she shouldn’t consider him either.
He’d never stepped out to court her, giving other men time to win her affections. If she’d said yes to Jedidiah . . . what a fool he’d been.
“Go on.” Rachel laid a hand on his tense arm, but he couldn’t make head or tail of the first word.
She chomped on her butterscotch and swallowed, her lips slightly shinier than normal with a sweet candy glaze—
“Dex?”
His eyes jolted up to hers. Her cheeks were pink again.
“You need to relax. I’m not going to make fun of you. Tell me if you want me to help while you’re reading or after you’ve finished.”
“Definitely after.” That is, if he could start. He pulled the volume closer and forced his lips to move.
Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand
Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore
Alone upon the threshold of my door
Of individual life, I shall command
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand
Serenely in the sunshine as before,
Without the sense of that which I forbore—
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double. What I do
And what I dream include thee, as the wine
Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue
God for myself, He hears that name of thine,
And sees within my eyes the tears of two.
He blew out a breath, fairly certain the afternoon he’d spent memorizing had made his reading fairly decent. “So what do you think?”
She looked at the words on the page, but not at him. “Excellent job. Maybe these lessons have helped.”
“Not that you aren’t helpful, but I think the hours of memorizing had a lot to do with it.”
“Yes, you read so smoothly, it sounded as if you were reciting by heart.”
“I was.” His mouth dried before she looked up at him. “You know, I’d thought you’d think terribly of me a few days back after you heard me read.”
She shook her head slowly. “If people can look down on someone for being smart, I suppose people could look down on others for anything. But no, I don’t.”
“And do you think a smart woman could endure reading letter upon letter of my terrible spelling if she felt something for me?”
“I, uh . . . I’m sure she could.” Her eyes darted everywhere but at him.
“When are you leaving for college?”
She frowned. “I’m not sure I am anymore.”
Wait. That poem couldn’t have changed her plans, even if she’d guessed he meant those words specifically for her.
He scooted closer. “Why wouldn’t you?”
She sighed and ran a leather bookmark through her hand. “I’d be wasting my time. No man seems to want a woman smarter than him. I mean, not that college would turn me into a genius, but the degree—well, what good is it if I don’t intend to fight a man for his job or . . .”
So she did want to get married. He relaxed in his chair. But the twaddle about a man thinking college would ruin her needed to stop. “Don’t give up your dream, Rachel, no matter who tries to change your mind.” Though he wanted to give her every reason to stay like the poet had, she needed to take advantage of the opportunity.
“If I go to school, I’m essentially making myself a spinster.”
“You’re only nineteen.”
“And the earliest I’d get out would be twenty-three.”
Dex winced. That would be bordering on old maid, but if he was waiting for her, she wasn’t doomed. “But you have to go now. When you get married, it’d be too late.”
“Or it’ll keep me from getting married. Jedidiah asked me to marry him only if I’d forget about school.”
“Well, that means he’s a fool. And you wouldn’t marry a fool.” But with that reasoning, she shouldn’t consider him either.
He’d never stepped out to court her, giving other men time to win her affections. If she’d said yes to Jedidiah . . . what a fool he’d been.
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