“What I said was I need to know you better.”
He shrugged. “I already told you about the time when I was eight and tried to hide a stray dog in my bedroom. That pretty much says it all. I’ve got a big heart and questionable planning skills.”
“You still have the chocolate, don’t you?”
He took a slow bite of his pancake, making her wait. “Yes, but before I give it to you, I want you to waltz with me again.”
Her stomach fluttered. Did he mean waltz or kiss? Maybe both. “Ok. We’ll waltz at the next dance.”
He shook his head. “We should practice before then.”
“Are you saying I’m not a good enough waltzer?”
“Not at all. I’m saying I’m vain and want us to look good in front of everyone.” His hand went to his chest. “See how much you’ve learned about me?”
She laughed despite herself. “True, and yet you’re mostly still a mystery to me.”
“We can remedy that while we dance. How about tonight after everyone goes to their bunkhouses?”
She pushed a piece of pancake around her plate, weighing the matter. “You’re tired. You need your sleep if you’re going to be able to work tomorrow.”
“After dinner, then. We’ll meet behind the machinery building. You bring the music, and I’ll bring some gloves.”
The machinery building sat between the farmhouse and the cornfield. A place for equipment that might or might not work. Farmers kept it all in hopes of getting the right parts someday.
The building was in a secluded area, but if Enzo brought gloves and agreed to meet in daylight, he meant for them to actually practice dancing. Perfectly respectable. Shedidneed practice. And she shouldn’t worry about being alone with him. He couldn’t be someone dangerous to them, not if she was supposed to marry him.
Her father’s vision meant she could trust him. “Okay,” she said, “it’s a date.”
As Charity workedin the fields, she kept looking for Enzo. Whenever she spotted his broad shoulders, it was hard to drag her eyes away.
He wanted to spend time with her. Her. Even though she was a poor harvester with too many freckles. This happy, light feeling when she thought about him—this must be what falling in love felt like.
Then questions would pop up, doubts about his past. If he wanted a relationship with her, he needed to give her more answers.
Before dinner, she showered and changed clothes. She wished she had something nice to wear, something crisp and sophisticated or soft and form-fitting, something city women wore. Although perhaps it was best she didn’t. Even just changing into her least-faded shirt felt like an obvious gesture everyone would notice.
Enzo came late to the meal. He’d showered and changed clothes as well. The boy cleaned up nicely. Tall, toned, and tanned. He had such thick dark hair. A woman could get lost in his brown eyes.
When he sat down at the family’s table, Milo eyed him, and his gaze shot over to Charity. Milo must have noticed her showered state as well because he sighed and shook his head.
“Milo,” her father said, “I’ve got some things to set up in the orchard before we start work tomorrow. Will you help me after dinner?”
“Sure,” Milo said.
Her father nodded to Gregor. “I’d like your help too. Meet me in the area between the cornfield and the orchard.”
“Fine,” Gregor said.
At least they wouldn’t be working near the machinery building. She’d begun to question the time and location. Most of the harvesters relaxed after dinner. Some hit the showers immediately. Others congregated outside, shooting the breeze and drinking moonshine while they waited for the showers to free up. Some went off to play cards—claiming they weren’t gambling, which co-op rules prohibited.
Her father stopped the card games if he saw cash switching hands, so the players always kept out of sight. What if the gamblers met in that space behind the machinery building? What if a different couple was there?
The meal ended. Charity was on cleanup duty. Enzo had helped with preparations, so he disappeared. No, not disappeared. He’d gone to wait for her.
She shoved plates and cups into the sink, cleaned them, and hardly spoke with the other workers. When she’d washed her fair share, she left the kitchen instead of lingering to talk with anyone.
She went straight to the machinery building. It was old and painted brown, its metal roof dotted with dusty solar panels. Even though the doors were closed, the place smelled faintly of oil and gasoline, of rusted things. No one wandered around nearby, and she hadn’t passed anyone on her way here.