This month finds me in the throes of Camp Nano, barely keeping my head above water against the paltry 30K word count goal I gave myself. I am working on the second book in the Athanasia Trilogy, Echoes of Athanasia. Set in the mid-1800s, the book is a look at Jenna's ancestry, particularly that of her great-great grandmother, Jennabel. Below is an excerpt from the book where Jennabel has just met the blacksmith's apprentice, Patrick, and thinks she may be quite fond of him.
Jennabel
enjoyed her solitude while she rode into town because just not thinking about
spells and schedules, if even for a short while, felt good. The new leaves on
the trees shone a bright green and the smell of new life permeated the air as
she rode through the thick canopy of foliage. She was a little disappointed the
ride was so short when she arrived in town. She sighed, dismounted and tied up
the horse, and then got right to business.
Several
tables and wagons belonging to local farmers lined the town square, which
together made the weekly farmer’s market, held every Friday. Items for purchase
ranged from fresh fruits and vegetables from local fields, to crafts such as
handmade quilts and candles, all available for a price. Jennabel started at one
corner of the market, sniffing and squeezing vegetables and placing properly
ripened items in the basket she brought along for the shopping trip. The farmer’s
wife manning the cart nodded and smiled in greeting to Jennabel.
Jennabel replied in kind and commented, “The produce looks very fresh today.”
“Thank
you,” The farmer’s wife replied. “Did you see those shallots yet dear? They
were gathered just this mornin’.”
“I
did indeed, and they look splendid But I am not in need of any today.”
Jennabel took some coins from a small leather pouch and paid for the items in
her basket. “Thank you ma’am.”
The
farmer’s wife took the coins and replied, “You are most welcome dear.” She gave
Jennabel a sidelong glance as she walked away. Some of the townspeople didn’t
necessarily approve of the coven lifestyle and sometimes demonstrated their
opinions verbally or even physically in extreme cases.
Jennabel
was thankful that exchange was civil and moved to the next booth. She
eventually made her way through the entire market and her basket was full of
vegetables and herbs needed back at the coven. The townspeople had been
friendly this time, for the most part, but she could tell who the disapprovers
were by their brisk responses. Her last stop of the day was the blacksmith to
get a shoe checked on Elder’s horse.
The
shop was half a block from the market so she carried her basket with her and
peered through the double barn door that was open a crack. She could not see
anyone, but it was dark so she entered the shop thinking someone might be
working in the shadows. Once inside, she realized she was still alone.
Frustrated, she called out, “Hello? Is anyone around?”
The
blacksmith's apprentice, Patrick Miller, was on the side of the building
cleaning some tools when he watched Jennabel enter the shop. He was struck by
the beauty of her long blond hair that fell across her shoulders in intricate
curls, which bounced as she walked. He walked around the building and followed
her inside through the double barn doors. “May I help you Miss?
Startled,
Jennabel emitted a high-pitched yelp and spun around, dropping her basket in
the process. Patrick did his best to stifle a chuckle. “You should not be sneaking
up behind people sir!” Her face wrinkled in an angry scowl. “It...it is just
not polite!”
His amusement quickly turned into embarrassment when he realized how angry she was. “My
sincerest apologies Miss. It was not my intent to frighten you.”
Her
ire softened once she took in Patrick's chiseled features, contrasted by his
soft brown eyes. Still wanting to appear cross, she looked away and half-closed
her eyes. “Fine sir. You did not frighten me. And I need the assistance of the
blacksmith.”
“Of
course not. I am Patrick. Uh...Miller. Patrick Miller.” Trying to get in her
good graces, he squatted to gather her purchases that currently littered the
shop floor. His gaze wandered up to her piercing emerald green eyes, which
caused him to stammer, “Maybe…perhaps I can offer some sort of assistance.” He
placed the last of her purchases back into the basket that she still held.
Still
cold, she replied, “You could help me by fetching the blacksmith for me Patrick
Miller.” She offered him a contrived smile.
“Yes
Miss. I mean no-”
Amused
with his nervousness, Jennabel cut him off, “No? No! May I ask why not Patrick
Miller?”
Patrick
stood back up and their eyes locked. “Perhaps we could start again Miss? I am
Patrick Miller, the blacksmith’s apprentice. How may I be of assistance to you
Ma’am?” A benevolent smile crossed his face, which caused Jennabel to flush and
look away.
“It
is one of the shoes on, er, my horse.” She thought it best to avoid the
explanation of why she was riding someone else’s horse and who Elder Golden was
for now.
“I
think I can help you with that Miss, but I will need one thing from you first.”
Her
gaze met his again and she felt her heart pounding in her chest, “Yes Mr.
Miller?” she asked softly.
“Your
name Miss. I need your name.”
“It
is Jennabel. Procter.” She bit her bottom lip.
“Well
Miss. It is Miss, yes?”
“Yes.”
His
smile grew just a fraction wider. “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you Miss
Procter. Let us see about that horse.”
Jennabel
didn’t answer right away. She was lost in the moment wondering if he was
feeling the same sense of arousal. Instead, she just stood in front of him
studying the angular features of his face, the stubble of beard growing on his
chin, the kindness in his eyes, and his brown hair spilling from beneath his
black planter hat.
Patrick
drank in Jennabel’s beauty too, but was first to recognize the awkwardness of
the silence. “Um…the horse?”
She
snapped out of her trance and blurted, “Oh, yes of course.” Her face blushed
again and she was thankful she had to turn away to exit the shop. “He is tied
off to the post opposite the square.”
“Please
lead the way.” He gestured toward the barn doors.
“Thank
you kind sir.”
They
engaged in small talk during the short walk. “Tell me Miss Procter, why is it
that I have never seen you before?”
“I
really do not come into town very much.” She thought for a moment. “And I have
never required the services of a blacksmith,” she looked in his eyes and
cracked a half-smile, “or his apprentice until this very day.”
He
returned the smile and parried her playful quip, “I suppose your need for a
blacksmith’s apprentice on this very day is my good fortune.”
“I
suppose. Now you tell me something Mr. Miller.” She feigned anger once again,
and with slit-eyes asked, “Do you make a habit of skulking about your shop
grounds? Startling unsuspecting customers?”
Suddenly
embarrassed, Patrick defended, “I was not. I merely-”
Jennabel
could not continue the charade and burst out laughing.
“Oh.
I see.” He joined in her merriment.
They
arrived at the hitching post where Elder’s horse was tied. “Here he is. It is
this hoof.” She pointed to the hind leg closest to them.
“Let
us have a look, shall we?” He first walked to the front of the horse and calmed
him by stroking his nose and speaking to him softly. Once the horse seemed
comfortable with him, Patrick walked back to the offending leg and gently
picked it up and held it between his legs. “Here is the problem.” He held two
of his fingers on holes where nails should have been. “These nails are
missing.” He reached in his apron and pulled out a nail and tapped it in the
hole with a hammer. Once the tip of the nail protruded from the hoof, he took a
cincher and bent it until it was almost flush with the hoof. He then pulled out
a rasp and filed off the sharp edge of the nail, as well as the head where it
met with the shoe. He repeated the process for the other missing nail and then
gently placed the hoof back on the ground. Jennabel watched him work and was
amazed with his dexterity that was combined with gentleness, which she thought
revealed him to be a caring person.
He
patted the horse’s hindquarter and said, “There. That was not so bad was it?”
Then to Jennabel, “That should fix it for now, but he will need to be shoed
again very soon.”
“Thank
you Mr. Proctor. I will take that under advisement.” She paid him for his
services and mounted the horse. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise
Miss Proctor.” He untied the horse and handed her the reigns. “The spring fair
is soon. Will you be attending?”
“I
might just. Perhaps I will see you there?”
“I
would like that. I would like that very much Miss Proctor.”
They
exchanged smiles and she rode out of town. During the entire trip home, she
wondered if she might just be smitten with Patrick Miller, the blacksmith’s
apprentice.
Thanks for reading!
~K
