“Well,” her father said, “what do you think of him so far?”
Her mother leaned closer to Charity. “He’s very handsome.” She said the words with an equal mixture of approval and caution. “And for a guy with a desk job, he’s pretty muscular. What hobbies do you suppose gave him those biceps?”
“Stop staring,” Charity hissed. “He’ll see you and wonder why we’re all gawking at him.”
Her parents turned back to her, looking firmly at her and still awaiting her verdict.
“Well?” her mother asked. “What do you think?”
Charity’s thoughts were racing so fast it was hard to catch them. Enzo came from Kansas City. Most city folks thought they were better than manual laborers. How could she make a good impression on him? She couldn’t pretend to be sophisticated.
Her father read his own meaning into her hesitancy. “You don’t like him?”
“It’s notthat…” Charity said.
Her mother smiled. “She’s just nervous. Any woman in her situation would be.” She patted Charity’s arm. “You don’t need to be. You already know he’s going to like you. Just let things progress naturally, and they’ll go where they’re supposed to.”
It was so awkward to have this conversation with her parents.
“If he’s the shy sort,” her father added, “you’ll need to go out of your way to talk to him because you don’t want to…” He didn’t have to finish.You don’t want to go against the prediction.
None of them knew why her father had been given a vision about who she should marry, but her brothers’ general assumption was that if her father didn’t find the right guy, she would likely marry a blabbermouth who’d get them all killed.
From the time her father had told her about the vision, Charity had refrained from getting into relationships. Involvement with the wrong guy would lead to heartache and potential danger. So, who knew, maybe her avoidance of men actually had kept the family safe. Whatever the reason for the visions, her future with Enzo merited two of them. But at the same time, her precautions had left her woefully inexperienced with men.
And now Enzo was here. Actually here.
She would need to try and be attractive and charming. She glanced down at herself. A few dirt smears colored her T-shirt. “I’m going to wash up.”
Charity left her parents and made a beeline to the women’s bunkhouse. She put on a clean shirt, took her hair out of the ponytail, and brushed it until it lay across her shoulders in a smooth wave. Her hair was naturally dark blonde like her brothers, but she’d put lemon juice on it and the sun lightened it to a respectable color with a sheen of highlights.
Most harvester women made their own makeup. Would putting on some now make it obvious she wanted to impress him? Then again, city men were used to women who primped.
Charity applied mascara and considered her features. More than one guy had told her she was pretty. At times, she even believed it. At other times, she was just as convinced that men only flirted with her because they wanted a fling for the season. They always gave up on her quickly enough.
Her blue eyes were a nice shade, the same color as her father’s—like the sky on a cloudless day. But a dozen freckles spread across her nose and cheeks. She’d never seen any tele-shows where beautiful women had those. She dabbed at them with some face powder.
Time to go back outside. She could make small talk with the new guy. That was a normal, polite thing to do. And for once, her family would give her the green light to talk to a man. So there was that.
Enzo was nowhere to be seen, but her brothers sat on the rise overlooking the pasture where the farmer kept his goats. She had put their chickens in with them. Something about her brothers’ too-pleased expressions made her head in their direction.
She immediately saw what they were looking at. Enzo was running around the pasture, chasing chickens. “What is he doing?”
Milo leaned back on his elbows. “I told him we needed to put the chickens in their cages and asked if he thought he couldcatch them. I’ve got to give him credit. He actually did catch one.”
Gregor nodded. “Obviously, something is wrong with that chicken. Should be the first one we eat.”
Charity smacked Milo on the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be nice to him.”
“Iambeing nice. This is how guys bond. We make each other look stupid.” He snorted. “Some guys make the task easier than others.”
Charity smacked him again, marched down the rise, and went through the pasture gate. The goats took note of her and ambled up, bleating, to see if she had any treats on her. That was the price she paid for sneaking them scraps.
Enzo saw her and stopped running after a hen. It scurried away, clucking in indignation. He put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “How can something with such little legs outrun a person?”
“That’s one of the mysteries of life.”
The chickens were too riled up and wary to come near her. They settled near the fence in an anxious, clucking huddle and glared at Enzo.