Chapter 4 BOY FROM THE CITY

Tate couldn't be more correct. Carly had made it evident that he would be treated with hostility for the duration of his stay. For the following week, their group worked on hay every morning, and Carly always put him in the warmest part of the barn. The remainder of the farmhands were rotated such that no one position was repeated too many times.

Never John, and every time he climbed down from the top of the barn, he was drenched in sweat.

Carly may have believed he would quit if she treated him badly enough. Perhaps that was her way of releasing almost ten years of resentment. One thing was sure: she wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

John hit a breaking point with the therapy one day.

It was coming near to midday again, and the temperature had risen into the nineties. As a result of the suffocating heat, John was practically hallucinating at the top of the barn. He'd learned by this time to pack a change of clothing, and he was already on his second pair. That's when he heard Carly's voice above him.

"All right, let's mix it up," she said. "I'd want to put you on the back of the wagon, Rory. Take a break, Tate, and go stack for a bit."

"What about me?" John cried from the top, wiping a heavy coating of sweat from his forehead.

Carly scowled at him. "You simply remain exactly where you are."

"Do you understand how stinking hot it is up here?" he cried back. "For a change, but someone else up here."

"City Boy has a point," Tate remarked as he ascended the elevator. "He's not looking well."

"If City Boy doesn't like it, he may go at any moment," Carly said, crossing her arms and practically daring him to dispute.

"Fuck that, I'm coming down," he muttered as he found the ladder and descended to Tate's level.

"Yeah, John, come down and do the wagon," Neal remarked before facing Rory. "Rory, get to the top."

"Damnit," mumbled Rory as he began to pout.

"No, I want John up there," an enraged Carly shouted. She waited for him to reach the lowest level before returning her gaze to him. "Just because you can't do it there doesn't mean you have to mess with my schedule."

"Your routine seems to entail attempting to make me pass out from the heat," he yelled back, having had enough of her nonsense.

Carly's lower lip quivered instead of disputing, and she quickly turned on her heel, walking out of the barn and down the side of the hill. John returned his gaze to the others for a short minute before hearing Tate shout out. "Oh, City Boy, you did it now."

John quickly pursued her since he didn't want to know what "it" was. He raced down the slope till he was within arm's reach of her. "What exactly is your issue, Carly? Are you attempting to murder me up there?"

"It would serve you well," she replied, smirking at the corner of your lips. She did, however, begin to slow down, making it easier for him to keep up with her.

"Is that what you're up in arms about? Is this a reference to Logan? "He inquired.

Carly grabbed his arm and whacked it. "You moron, of course, it's about Logan! What else could it possibly be about?"

So there you have it. She still resented him for her brother's death ten years later. There just hadn't been enough time for her to heal that wound.

"Carly, it was an accident," he argued, palms up. "We were mere youngsters with no idea what we were doing."

"Well, it was your fault he attempted to do it in the first place," she said. "If it hadn't been for you, he'd still be alive."

John swallowed forcefully. "I'm not sure I can argue with it."

She moved her head immediately. "Then you've had to confess it!"

"I mean, you're not entirely wrong-"

She slapped him once more.

"Will you just stop beating me?" he demanded.

"No, I'm not going to stop hitting you," she retorted. "I will not stop doing anything to you until you quit and return to where you came from."

"Well, you best belt up, honey, because I'm not going away anytime soon," he said, furious.

For a short second, she stared at him with a vulnerable face. "John, why did you have to come back here? Why? Haven't we all suffered enough as a result of your actions?"

Her expression almost crushed his heart. It meant more to him than her nasty words and glares combined. Carly ran off in the direction of her home without waiting for an answer, slamming the door shut behind her.

He had no idea what to do or say. He could stare through the closed door, wondering whether they'd all be better off if he got in his vehicle and drove away. He must have been staring for too long, for he soon felt a touch on his shoulder.

It had to be Neal.

"Paul reared a fiery one there," the elder farmhand said.

"That's what he did," John agreed. "However, I can't say I blame her for being annoyed with me."

"She'll see," he said, echoing her father's words. "She can't remain furious indefinitely."

"Ten years is a long time to harbor a grudge," John observed.

Neal shook his head. "However, as you said. It was an unintended consequence. She'll realize it in time."

"I hope so," John mumbled.

"Until then, you may want to work alone for a bit. Allow her to go through her emotions or whatever she is going through, "Neal said. "Perhaps then she'll realize it's pointless to keep venting her rage on you."

"I'm not sure," John said. "She seems to be dense at the moment. I'm not sure she'll ever let herself get to that stage."

"I'll talk to Paul about it," he promised before beginning to chuckle. "But, in the meanwhile, could you come back and assist us with these bales? We can handle being one person short, but not two."

John nodded before turning to face the home one more time. "Sure, I'll be there straight away."

Part of him questioned if Carly would ever forgive him. The other half of her believed she had every justification for being angry with him. Wasn't it his fault, even if only inadvertently, for Logan's death?