Distraction by Tess Oliver Page B

was my face staring back at me. I’d read of the fancy,
silver looking glasses used by the wealthy nobles of Europe, but
there was nothing like it in Salem. Mari and I had polished one of
Nonni’s large silver spoons to a high enough sheen that we could
see our reflections. But it was always distorted. Or sometimes,
when the sunlight had been just right on the cow’s water trough, it
was possible to see a reasonable reflection.
    I was astounded by the clarity of Libby’s mirror, and
I was equally astounded by how absurdly small and thin I looked in
the waist overalls. I turned and awkwardly looked back over my
shoulder to see the trousers from the rear, but it was not
possible. Not thinking about how odd it might seem to Libby, I
reached up and touched the skin on my cheeks. They looked creamy
and smooth and reminded me of my mother’s. In fact, I looked a
great deal like her, and while Nonni had mentioned the similarity
often, I had never really seen it for myself.
    Libby walked up behind me and gazed at my reflection.
“I admit the clothes look a bit out of the ordinary, but I think
they’ll do just fine. And they’re very practical.” She squeezed my
shoulders. “Although, if that grandmother of yours shows up any
time soon, you’d better roll those denims off fast. She would
probably not take too kindly to you wearing boy’s clothing.” She
walked to the door. “Put your boots on and I’ll meet you in the
kitchen. The light is best down there.”
    Downstairs, Libby greeted me with a wide grin and
small pair of scissors. She’d drawn back the checkered drapes from
the two kitchen windows, and sunlight poured into the room. She
seemed to sense my apprehension. “Don’t worry, Samuel and Charlotte
took the wagon into town, and Cade and Jackson never show up
between meal times.” She waved me over. “Stand here in the center
where the light is best and lift the shirt up.”
    I stood in front of her. She placed her hands on my
shoulder and turned me sideways. I reached down and slid the hem of
the shirt up to expose the stitches. She bent over and studied them
for a moment. Her fingertips were cold as she pressed against my
skin and I startled.
    “Now hold still, or I’m liable to cut something
that’s not supposed to be cut.” I dropped the shirt. She chuckled.
“I’m only teasing. I’m just as skilled with these scissors as any
doctor. I’m only amazed at how well your skin has healed. Now,
let’s have at it.”
    Having at it didn’t sound terribly reassuring,
but I was happy to rid my side of the stitches.
    Libby took her time and proceeded so gently I felt
nothing more than a tug on my skin as she removed the doctor’s
threads. I was standing there with the hem of the shirt dragged up
to the top of my rib cage, the naked skin of my back and side
completely exposed when the back door to the kitchen creaked open.
The cool outside air swirled around the kitchen. Boot heels pounded
the wood floor.
    I dropped the hem of the shirt, but Libby’s hand kept
it from falling down. “Hold it,” she said, “last one.” There was a
slight tug and the shirt dropped down.
    Heat rose in my cheeks as I turned around.
    Cade was standing in the center of the kitchen. His
light green gaze did not leave me as he spoke, and it seemed he
swallowed several times before the words came out. “Christ, Libby,
what are you up to now?”
    “Well, who knows when Doc Walker’s going to get out
here again, and she was all healed up.”
    His gaze drifted down to my lower half, and suddenly,
I had an urge to run from the room. “Why is she dressed like
that?”
    “Your aunt thought I could learn to ride a horse,” I
said hastily.
    “I was hoping you’d have some time this afternoon to
saddle up Red and take Poppy out for a trot around the yard.”
    His gaze still did not leave me as he spoke to his
aunt. “I’ve got too much to do. Where’s Samuel anyhow?” He finally
looked away, and I realized I’d been