His brow was creased with the strain of everything. Filled with a strange mix of trepidation and hope, all I could do was nod. I was too shaken to chance a look backward as we walked away. Cassidy bumped my hip with her own, and I pressed my lips together.

“See, aren’t you glad I asked? He thinks of you like a flower!” She giggled.

“Not a flower,” I corrected. “A sturdy plant.”

“Covered in beautiful flowers! And sturdy is good. I’ll cut him a little slack for now. I’d hate to have to embarrass him in front of the clan.”

I bumped her hip back, hoping more than anything there would be no need for anymore embarrassing confrontations at all, this summer or ever.

IN THE HOT KITCHEN, women bustled around with aprons, cooking in pans over open coals in giant fireplaces along the wall.

A pretty, younger girl with long golden hair and a round face approached Cassidy and me, smiling.

“Mornin’ Robyn and Cassidy! I’m Leilah. Let me fix yer plates.”

Half a minute later she handed us both tin plates and we thanked her, stomachs growling at the sight of fried eggs, a slice of what she called bacon, though it looked like ham to me, and a thick piece of flatbread spread with purple jam.

“My pleasure. Come back and see us. There’s always talk to be heard in the kitchens for anyone with an ear.” She winked at us, wiping her hands on her apron and moving on to serve the group of men who’d come in behind us.

“Everyone here sure winks a lot,” Cassidy whispered as we walked with our plates back out to the clearing.

I thought about Leilah’s offer to come back and talk. A lot could probably be learned from the females. Visiting the kitchen topped my agenda list for today.

I was surprised to find McKale sitting at the end of a long table across from my parents, seeming to exchange pleasantries. My parents had plates of food, but McKale didn’t. I boldly sat down next to him and smiled when he looked at me. The goal was to get to know him. No time to waste.

“Aren’t you eating?” I asked him.

“Aye, but I’m in the habit of taking mine an’ eating on the way to the Shoe House.”

“The Shoe House?” Mom asked.

“Aye. Our largest structure. Most of the men folk spend their days working on the shoes. My job is tanning hides for the leather. In fact, I’d better be off. My partner is cranky when I’m late.”

He stood and inclined his head to the four of us, lingering longest on me, before walking in the direction of the big building. I watched him go, noting his long limbs and thin frame. It was hard to believe he was fifty-years-old and his body still had some filling-out to do. I turned my attention back to my breakfast, which was as delicious as it looked.

“Well, he can certainly be polite when he wants to,” Mom noted, sipping her hot tea.

“What kind of trouble will you girls get into today?” Dad asked. Cassidy and I thought about it.

“I’d like to meet some of the women,” I said. “Maybe take a walk around the area or something.”

“Yeah, your mother and I will probably explore the land, too. I might have a look in the shoe factory later. See if I can make myself useful while I’m here.”

“It’s the Shoe House, Dad,” Cass corrected him. “You have to use their lingo.”

“Ah, yes. Shoe House.”

“And Robyn says they’re anti-women over there,” Cass warned him.

Our parents looked at me, interested.

“Yeah, I went by yesterday and they seemed a little spooked to see a girl inside.”

Dad laughed. “Feminine wiles would distract the boys from work.”

“Nah,” Mom said. “Harmless superstitions, is all. Don’t get your feelings hurt.”

After breakfast, Cassidy and I set off for the kitchens. I felt shy when we got there. I’d always been somewhat intimidated by other females, feeling like I wasn’t girly enough and I couldn’t catch on to the passive-aggressive subtleties many girls lived by. I’d always gotten along better with boys. In general they were simpler to understand, although McKale was giving me a run for my money.

Six women hunched over shallow barrels scrubbing dishes and pans. They had an assembly line going. The oldest woman with a head full of short, curly gray hair held out a soapy hand for our dishes without looking at us.

“We can wash them,” I told her, feeling bad.

“Och, just give ‘em to me.” She snatched them from my hand and began scrubbing with zeal.

Leilah and the other young girl were at the rinsing station, dunking sudsy dishes into the clean water.

“Here.” Leilah tipped her chin toward a stack of towels. “You can dry.”

Cassidy and I went over and grabbed towels, drying and stacking. Those ladies moved fast and we worked quickly to keep up, fumbling a little and making Leilah and her friend giggle. I decided I might write an ode to the awesomeness of electric dishwashers and indoor plumbing.

“This is my friend, Rachelle.” Leilah’s friend had curly dark hair that she pulled back in a bonnet.

“Do you two room together?” I asked them, wiping my damp forehead with my arm.

“Aye. Most of us wee women live together except the ones currently bound.”

“How old are you, Leilah? Sorry, not trying to be nosy. I’m just curious.”

“Not at all. I’m one-o-nine. Rachelle here’s the babe of the women. She’s only ninety-eight.”