Her name was Melanie Manteufel. She was pretty, if not beautiful. She had a broad forehead and wide-set gray eyes, a slightly snub nose and a generous mouth. She was also the sort of girl who lit up with genuine pleasure when she met a friend or a stranger, which gave her a different and rarer kind of beauty. Ezekiel did not remember a time when he had not desired her. But at the turning of the year, Melanie had announced—blushing and shy and delighted with herself—that she and Daniel Hammond would marry in the coming spring. This spring. In June, now just a few short months away. Daniel Hammond. Ezekiel had always known that Melanie was more important to him than he was to her. Everyone loved Melanie. For him it was different. Everyone but Melanie was afraid of him. He had known he was too young for her. But a year, two years, that difference in ages became less important as people got older.
