Note: Alright! The story continues. :) More of Fanny in this chapter too.
Just as the town came into view after the last bend in the road, John reined the horses in with a sharp tug. After regaining his balance, Henry gave him a startled look.
"What is the matter? Besides the fact that you've scarcely spoken a word since we parted ways with your friend."
"Do not say anything about my offer to Mr. Arnolds." John turned to Henry with utmost seriousness. He had been too busy thinking to make idle chatter earlier, but now he must speak before they returned to the shop. He knew how excited Henry was to share the news, the same excitement boiled beneath his stern exterior, but nothing could be said of the job in Milton yet.
"What? Why on earth not?"
"Because there isn't an offer, not a determined one. It's all based on 'ifs', and I can't depend on it until it is certain." John heaved a sigh, "More likely then not, I will never hear another word about it again."
"But Mr. Armstrong said-"
"He said if. I'll not put my hopes on ifs and speculations. Promise me Henry, not a word."
"All right," Henry said reluctantly.
They continued their way in silence, with John going back to his thoughts, and Henry slumping disappointedly down in his seat. John had to admit he was a little sorry for bringing him down like that, but it couldn't be helped.
"Blimey, what's happened to the wagon?" Mr. Arnolds exclaimed as the young men pulled up behind the shop.
"The road was a bit muddy, that's all" John said, swinging down from his seat.
"A bit muddy? It tried to suck us into its miry depths after John deftly avoided a collision with a carriage." Henry bounded over to join them.
John rolled his eyes, and Mr. Arnolds gave him a sympathizing grin. "Well, as long as you're back safe and sound, with the order, I presume?"
"Yes sir." John strode over to the back of the wagon to begin unloading.
"Once you lads have that inside, run along home. You've done a good day's work, and I'm sure you're hankerin' for supper."
Once Mr. Arnolds was back in the shop, Henry pulled one of the bundles down.
"Why is fabric so heavy?" he said with a groan.
"Why do you talk so much?" John answered, easily hoisting another bundle from the wagon.
"Well, if I couldn't tell him about the-"
John shot him a glare.
"-other thing, I had to say something about the trip." Henry set the bundle down and rubbed his palms together. There was a hurt look on his face as he continued. "You can trust me, John. I swear on my grandmother's grave I won't spill a word of it until it's sure."
John softened, walking past him to put the bundle inside. "I'm sorry, Henry, I do trust you. We will both have to be careful, that's all."
Henry brightened, and the two young men hurried to finish unloading the wagon. Soon they were parting ways outside the shop, John to his home, and Henry to his. The smells of many suppers cooking wafted along the street, and John's empty stomach gave a growl of protest. He considered a moment not telling his mother about the offer either. As he had said to Henry, it did feel like a speculation to put any hope in his getting the position at the mill, so why tell her before it came to fruition? No, he shook his head. He would explain it all to her, and she would understand it was only a chance, not to be depended on.
"John!" Fanny ran into his arms as he entered the door. Her blond curls were a tousled disarray, and dirt streaked the front of her dark blue dress.
"I've been helping Mother plant the garden," she giggled, and John looked to his mother in surprise.
"Have you now?" he said, half to his sister, half to Mrs. Thornton, who was straightening up from the hearth.
"Fanny has been attempting to assist me, yes. Though she only looks like that because she tripped over the basket of seed potatoes."
"And now I'm a fright! Why does gardening have to be such grimy work?" Fanny projected her lower lip and stepped back from her brother. Her eyes lowered from his face and noticed that he, as well, was quite filthy.
"What happened to you? You never come home dirty from the draper's shop."
"I didn't spend all day in the shop, that's why." John replied, easing himself into one of the chairs around their small table.
"Oh? Where were you then?" his mother asked.
"Mr. Arnolds sent Henry and I to Milton to fetch our order. The roads are a ruddy bog, and we had a bit of an incident on the way home, hence, my mud covered clothes. Interestingly enough, the episode was caused by a literal run-in with an old mate of mine from school."
"And who would that be?" His mother set a loaf of bread on the table, and then turned back to the hearth to get the stew pot.
"It was Curtis Talby. You may remember him, he came home with me over Christmas break the year before⦠the year before I left school."
"Well, that was nice for both of you, I'm sure. Fanny, come to the table now."
The trio of mother, son, and daughter clasped hands and bowed their heads as John asked a blessing for the meal.
"I have something else to tell you about, as well," John said, once his mother had filled all their bowls and sliced the bread.
His mother met his eyes, silently urging him to continue. John opened his mouth, then stopped a moment, spreading his piece of bread with a thick layer of butter. Maybe he should wait until Fanny was abed, but then he thought again. The walls were so thin, she would most likely hear them talking anyway.
"At the mill, the head foreman was complaining about one of the production foremen who hasn't been doing his job properly. He asked if I would be willing to take the place if the position opened up."
Mrs. Thornton's eyebrows raised. "And return to Milton?"
"If this said production foreman is fired, which I can't be sure he will from the sound of the mill owner, it would give us a chance to move back to Milton, and would mean much higher wages, besides the fact that with this position could come promotions and-" as John rushed on he realized his excitement was getting the better of him. He cleared his throat and set about eating his strew, waiting for his mother's response.
He gave a sidelong glance at Fanny, who seemed to be oblivious to the matter, and was frowning into her stew, trying to scoop out the bits of vegetables she disliked, which were most of them.
"Fanny, please stop picking at your supper and eat it." Her mother gently reprimanded.
"But you put onions in again, didn't you? I hate onions, and peas, and-"
"Fanny, what did I just say?"
The girl's shoulders slumped and she put a spoonful up to her mouth with a grimace. Mrs. Thornton then directed her attention back to her son.
"So it hinges on the man being removed from his employment at the mill? We shall have to wait patiently and see what happens then, shan't we?
"Yes Mother," John nodded. Her tone was even and calm, but John could see her eyes shine with the same excitement he felt deep in his chest.
Changing the subject, John brought up Curtis again. "I should like to see ol' Talby again while he is staying in Milton."
"Perhaps Mr. Arnolds could spare you for a day this week?"
"I ought to ask," John said thoughtfully, taking a bite of his bread. "Who knows when the chance to see him will come again."
After supper, Fanny came and tugged on John's sleeve.
"Will you play with me?"
John gave her a nod and a smile. "What shall it be? Draughts?"
He had made a board and carved the pieces a few years ago during the cold winter evenings. It was something to do while Mother read aloud to Fanny.
"But you always win!" Fanny huffed.
"You are improving. Let's see how you do tonight, and the winner can choose the next game we play." John pulled the checkered board down from the shelf along with the box of playing pieces. He set it on the floor, and then sat cross-legged besides it. Fanny plopping herself opposite him.
"Light or dark?" he asked.
"I shall be the dark pieces this time, since you always seem to beat me with them."
"The pieces have no skill of their own, little goose." John gave his sister a half smile. "It's the player who controls them."
"I don't care, let me be dark."
"Fine. You shall be dark, and I will be light." John placed the pieces on the board, and they began, John giving Fanny the first move as well.
Fanny, eager to reach the other side and be "kinged" did not give heed to protecting her other pieces. Several times John had clear paths to capture two or three of her pieces at a time, but he restrained himself, wanting to give his sister the victory tonight. Whenever he did make a move to his advantage, Fanny would scowl and quickly try to counter it. The game progressed slowly, with John being careful not to appear too obvious that he was letting her win, although, Fanny was so absorbed in her own moves, her attention to exactly what John was doing was rather small.
Finally, the game was ended, a very happy Fanny giving a cheer as her king captured John's last piece.
"I win!" She shouted, jumping up and running to Mother. "Did you see how I beat John?"
"I did, my daughter. I think it is time to be off to bed now."
Fanny's face darkened like a storm cloud. "But John said I could choose the next game."
"You can, tomorrow. I should be off to bed as well, before I suffer another loss at your hand. I don't know if I could take that." John said, with feigned anguish. That brightened his sister's disposition, and she gave him and her mother a kiss on the cheek before retiring.
