Elijah sat there, holding Maisie close as her breathing gradually slowed and she drifted back into a peaceful slumber, her small hand still fisted in the fabric of his shirt. He stared into the darkness, the events of the day and Maisie's nightmare swirling in his mind.
The weight of responsibility pressed down on him like a physical burden, a yoke he had carried for as long as he could remember. He was the man of the house, the one who had to keep his family together, no matter the cost. But the more he tried to provide, the more it felt like he was drowning, pulled under by the current of their circumstances.
He thought of Hillory, of her laughter in the sun, her pretty dresses and delicate hands. She was everything he wasn't, everything he could never be. And yet, in that moment, he felt a desperate longing to give Maisie the same, to see her smile like that, carefree and bright.
But how? How could he give her a life like that when he could barely keep a roof over their heads? When his mama's sickness was getting worse and the doctor's bills were piling up faster than he could pay them? He worked from dawn till dusk, but it was never enough. It would never be enough, not with the way money seemed to slip through his fingers like sand.
He bowed his head, resting his chin on top of Maisie's, breathing in the clean scent of her hair as he struggled to hold back the tears that burned the back of his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he had allowed himself to cry, couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt the constant pressure of their hardship weighing on him.
God help me, he prayed silently, the words a desperate plea in the darkness. I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to give them the life they deserve. But please, please don't let my failings destroy them. Don't let them suffer for my shortcomings. I'm tryin', Lord. I'm tryin' so hard. Just...just help me keep them safe. Help me keep my word to her.
The next morning, Elijah found himself back at the grand estate of the Yates, the sun already blazing overhead as he trudged up the long gravel drive with a heavy toolbox in hand. He had woken before dawn, unable to shake the lingering unease of Maisie's nightmare and his own troubled thoughts. The work at the manor would be a welcome distraction, a chance to earn a little extra money to keep food on the table.
As he approached the house, he saw Hillory sitting on the porch, a book in her lap and a glass of lemonade on the small table beside her. She looked up as he drew near, her eyes widening slightly as they met his. She set her book aside and stood, brushing out her skirt with slender, graceful hands.
"Good morning, Elijah," she said softly, her voice like honey dripping from the comb. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon. Is everything alright with the tractor?"
He ducked his head, suddenly self-conscious under her gaze. He had changed into a clean shirt before leaving the house, but he still felt rough and unkempt compared to the polished perfection of the manor and its inhabitants.
"Yeah, it's all fixed up," he murmured, his voice low and gruff from disuse. "Mr. Yates asked me to come take a look at a problem with the plumbing in the kitchen. Said there was a leak somewhere and the pipes were makin' a racket."
Hillory nodded, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. The sun caught in the curl, turning it to a shimmering ribbon of gold. "Yes, it's been making the most awful clanging noise. I'm afraid Uncle is at his wit's end with it."
She paused, looking up at him with those green eyes that seemed to see right through him. "Would you like some help getting your tools inside? I could show you where the issue seems to be."
Elijah hesitated, unused to accepting help, but then he thought of Maisie's tear-streaked face in the night and the stack of bills waiting for him at home. He needed this job, needed the money, and if Hillory wanted to help...well, he wasn't going to refuse.