Pushing down my disappointment, I grabbed a sack of flour and tossed it over my shoulder. Hazel's slender form retreated, to be replaced by the hulking behemoth of her father. He was a dreadnought shielding a small pleasure yacht.
"You're not welcome here, Henry." He folded his arms over his chest and blocked my way.
I?d thought the bag with FLOUR stamped on the side would be an obvious clue as to the purpose behind my presence. Yet he still barred my way inside. What did he see when he looked upon me? A lad shattered by war and trying to reach out to the girl he left behind? Or a vile creature who would corrupt his daughter and spread pestilence over their farm? From the way he narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists, I suspected the latter.
"Henry has brought our mail and supplies, father, and I know mother has nearly run out of tea." Hazel's voice came from behind but I couldn't see her. She might as well have spoken from behind a closed door.