Part 7 (2/2)
THE.
SKATING.
PARTY.
An hour before dawn, Milo rapped lightly on the front door of a log cabin set back from one of the narrow roads that wound through Sunderland State Park's extensive grounds. Moments later, the door swung wide, allowing warmth and light to spill out onto the snowy steps. Abner peered sharply at the Messenger. ”So it's you?”
”The lot has fallen to me,” acknowledged his teammate.
Raising his voice, Abner called, ”It's Milo!”
”I thought as much,” Padgett replied mildly. ”Only a Graft would enter through the front door.”
Abner's eyes drifted out of focus, and he murmured, ”A valid point ... or would you call that a keen observation? Hmm.”
With gentle a.s.sertiveness, his apprentice invited, ”Won't you come in?”
Once Milo was settled in a chair before the hearth, a veritable swarm of yahavim darting about his ears, Abner remarked, ”Aril will be pleased to see you again. How long has it been?”
”Not since the beginning,” the Messenger reminded.
The Caretaker straightened his gla.s.ses and demanded, ”Which beginning? There have been many.”
Milo chuckled. ”You were newly arrived, and Jedrick was newly appointed.”
Fluttering his fingers at the little manna-makers vying for his attention, Abner murmured, ”Full circle? Perhaps, perhaps... .”
Padgett cleared his throat and interjected, ”Morning and evening for a fortnight. Find me whenever you're ready, and I'll open the way.”
Milo nodded amiably. ”I'll be looking forward to it.”
Prissie fiddled with the ta.s.sels of her new scarf, trying to get them to lay right against her shoulder. The fussy accessory and its matching hat were early Christmas presents from Grammie Esme, who loved indulging her grandchildren. The set was more for looks than warmth, but Prissie adored the pearlescent sheen given off by their hundreds of tiny sequins. She'd dressed with care, but not for the boys from Zeke's Sunday school cla.s.s who'd be arriving soon. Their teacher still had a way of making Prissie want to look her best, like a habit she couldn't quite break.
Giving her hair a fidgety pat, she sat with a flounce of heavy skirts on one of the makes.h.i.+ft benches beside their duck pond. Milo had approached the Pomeroys about bringing his third- and fourth-grade boys over on a Sunday afternoon for a rowdy sort of Christmas party. Dad had readily agreed, and Momma had offered to supply cookies and cocoa for everyone afterward.
The weather was perfect-overcast and not too cold, with the occasional drift of snowflakes in the air. Prissie took a deep breath and released it in a puff of warm mist. Today promised to be fun, and she could hardly wait for it all to begin.
Koji was reshoveling the path down from the barn while Neil gave the ice a final sweep. The hourgla.s.s-shaped pond with its red footbridge made a pretty setting for skating parties, not that they'd hosted one in quite some time. All of the older Pomeroys' friends had outgrown their skates and moved on to other things. Tad had long ago given up on skating, but Neil still liked it well enough. He skimmed around the edges of the pond with ease, gliding in a wide figure-eight as he inspected his handiwork.
Just then, Milo's voice hailed them from the gate up by the barn, and Prissie's stomach flip-flopped. No matter how many times she told herself that things were different, her heart insisted that the mailman was special. She cared about him in much the same way she cared about Koji. But these feelings were stronger, and it was hard to know what to do with them.
”Hey, Neil!” Milo called, strolling right to the edge of the ice. Prissie's brother zipped over and swooshed to a stop. A minute later, Neil was beaming under the mailman's compliments. Milo then ambled over and joined Prissie on the bench. ”Hey, Miss Priscilla. I appreciate your willingness to lend a hand with the boys today.”
”I don't mind helping,” she replied, trying to hide her sudden bout of awkwardness.
He nodded and unslung the skates hanging from one shoulder by their laces, ready to trade his boots for blades. ”I heard back from everyone, and it sounds like the whole cla.s.s will be here.”
”How many?”
”Eight, counting Zeke.”
Relaxing some, Prissie remarked, ”It's a small pond, but it's perfect for little kids. Zeke's really excited.”
”Nearly as excited as Koji,” Milo said with a chuckle. Nodding toward the ice, he inquired, ”Have you already given it a go?”
”Nooo,” she slowly admitted. ”I was waiting.”
”Take a turn with me?” he invited, standing and offering his hand like a gentleman.
A sudden sense of deja vu swamped Prissie, for Adin had done the same thing when he'd tried to coax her out the back door of the bakery. He'd made her feel special, but news of his attention had been enough to make Tamaes shake and Koji beg her not to stray. If she'd taken the enemy's hand, something awful might have happened.
”No?” the Messenger asked, ready to withdraw his offer.
”Yes, please,” she hastily agreed, allowing him to help her up. ”You know, you're nothing like Adin.”
His eyes widened for a moment, but then Milo smiled. ”I'm glad to hear that, Miss Priscilla, but what brought him to mind?”
She hoped the cold was a good enough excuse for the color creeping into her cheeks. ”He wanted me to take his hand.”
”But you didn't,” the mailman countered, tucking her arm through his and striking out across the pond.
”But ... I wanted to,” she confessed quietly.
”Adin is especially dangerous because he's taken a personal interest in us,” Milo replied seriously. He gave her mittened hand a pat. ”It's astonis.h.i.+ng that he got as close as he did, but don't be afraid. No matter what the future holds, we're with you.”
They skated in silence for a few moments before Prissie said, ”You're really good at this.”
”Next best thing to flying,” he replied with a wink.
”Oh! Is that why it comes so easily for you?” She was impressed with how confidently he skated, and it didn't take long for her to match his rhythm.
”No, I had to learn the hard way, just like anyone else. There's a rink down in Harper where Baird likes to take the youth, and I often join them.” He guided her through a wide figure-eight before adding, ”We'll need to help Koji along. I don't think he has any idea how difficult this is.”
Prissie glanced at the benches where Neil was helping the young Observer lace into a pair of hand-me-down skates. While she watched, Koji stood and stepped cautiously out onto the ice, then sat down hard. With a giggle at his surprised expression, Prissie called, ”Wait for me, Koji!” Milo released her so she could rush to her friend's side. ”Are you okay?”
”I am unharmed,” Koji a.s.sured. ”However, I may require a.s.sistance.”
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