Hunter’s Hill

Prologue June 1893 Margie lifted the front of her skirt to avoid getting it caught in the new growth of thimble berries that lined the uphill path. The sunlight of the late Minnesotan spring softened as it filtered through the new green leaves on the birch and elm trees around her. The pastel wildflowers, nestled in the thin, new grasses, were fading but still lovely. The more brilliant reds, oranges, and blues of the summer flowers were only hinted at in their still unopened buds. Margie walked uphill with a fierceness that would have surprised the people who knew her. Her eyes gazed straight ahead of her, taking no notice of the beauty that usually filled her heart with joy. There was no smile to match the bright day, no peace of mind to match the serenity of the gentle wind through the flowers. She was taking her favorite walk out of habit, not desire, hoping to receive that solace that Hunter's Hill usually gave her. Now, as she neared the top, she realized it was a fool's errand, that she would not find the peace she sought. “I should have known,” she scolded herself aloud. There wasn't anyone to hear her today. Becky was home with a cold and Jeannine was shopping for shoes for the graduation ball in two days. Margie knew she should be more excited about graduating in a week, but her heart wasn't in it anymore. “Why are parents always right?” she asked herself, half angrily, half in self-reproach. He isn't coming back to me. Until a few months ago, she had been certain that he would. His letters had spoken of his fondness for her, of his anticipation of seeing her again when he returned. She had even believed that they might have a future together someday. It had been a hope too grand to be true, she knew that now. Her mother and father had warned her about him. Just a summer friend. Unreliable. Not one of us. “An earl in love with me?!” Saying it aloud made it sound as stupid as it was. So silly to believe such an impossible thing. She tried to laugh at the very idea, but her attempt ended in sudden tears. It always happened when she thought of him, which had been often in the last few weeks. She had nearly reached the clearing but had to stop to catch her breath. “Why does it still hurt so much?” she sobbed to herself, sitting down heavily on a fallen tree and hiding her face in her hands. “Why can't I just forget him?” From farther up the hill she heard the sound of hooves.