Love Finds You in Maiden, North Carolina

by Tamela Hancock Murray

  Selene let out a breath. “I know there’s not much in the way of entertainment here, but that’s ridiculous.”

  “Maybe it sounds that way to you, and maybe it sounds that way to a lot of other people, too, but it doesn’t to me. I think being so persistent takes a lot of discipline. I admire her.”

  “I guess I do, too.” Selene shrugged.

  “Would you believe she tells me it’s like reading a different book every time? I suppose that’s because you focus on verses that mean the most to you according to where you are at that point in life.”

  Selene became engrossed in thought. “She must be taking comfort in verses about the sick, then.”

  “Maybe. Or verses about hope and patience. I know that’s where I’d be looking if I had to stay in bed several weeks.” Hestia eyed her cousin and crossed her arms. “You know, you might be well-served to memorize some verses on patience while you’re waiting for the baby to come. Who knows? They might help you be more patient with Aunt Louisa, too.”

  “Like what verses?”

  Hestia searched her memory for recent Bible lessons. “How about Ecclesiastes 7:8? ‘Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.’”

  “So you think I’m proud, do you?”

  “Maybe a little bit. But considering your upbringing, it’s not surprising. Not everyone attended private schools only to end up living in a Manhattan penthouse and having all day to spend at the beauty salon, you know.”

  “I do miss being pampered.” Selene lifted a strand of hair and looked at it almost cross-eyed since it was so short. “I’m liable to look like a zebra before all my hair dye grows out.”

  “Maybe that’s one way of getting rid of pride.” Almost feeling sorry for Selene, Hestia didn’t allow admonition to enter her voice.

  “I can dye it again as soon as I get home.”

  “True. There will be no one to stop you.” Hestia could understand her cousin’s frustration at sporting two-toned hair.

  “Got any more of those verses? I don’t really like the one you gave me.”

  Hestia decided not to pick a fight by commenting. Surely the verse she had remembered hit too close to home for her cousin. Besides, since the Lord had led Hestia to mention His Word and her cousin was actually asking to hear more, that in itself was a miracle—or at least a blessing beyond measure. She racked her brain but couldn’t recall the right verses from memory. “Hold on. Let me get my Bible. I have some verses marked.”

  “Isn’t that something? For one, I can’t believe you don’t have most of the Bible memorized, and two, I can’t believe you have to mark verses on patience.”

  Hestia picked up her Bible, bound in white leather, from where she had left it on the oak nightstand. “Maybe you don’t believe it because I do read the Bible and think about what it says. It does give me courage and strength.” Hestia thumbed through the pages. “Here’s one in the first letter to the Thessalonians: ‘Now we exhort you, brethren, warn them that are unruly, comfort the feebleminded, support the weak, be patient toward all men.’”

  “That describes you. You’re warning the unruly and being patient with me.”

  “That took courage to admit, Selene.” Hestia gave her an approving smile. “I wish I were as good as you say I am, but thank you.” Hestia noticed that no more tears watered Selene’s cheeks. At least she had distracted her enough to give her a goal and take her mind off her problems. She flipped through more pages but, upon reading the marked passages on patience, decided that Selene might be better off with Psalms. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you commit a psalm of praise to memory? Here’s a short one, Psalm 150: ‘Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise him in the firmament of his power. Praise him for his mighty acts: praise him according to his excellent greatness. Praise him with the sound of the trumpet: praise him with the psaltery and harp. Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs. Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high sounding cymbals. Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the LORD.’”

  Selene took the Bible from Hestia. “That is a lot to memorize.”

  “You have time.”

  She studied the passage. “You know, I took piano lessons a long time ago. Do you know how to play?”

  “Passably. I know a lot of hymns and a few popular songs.”

  “Name some.”

  “Oh, ‘Good Morning, Mr. Zip-Zip-Zip’ and, let me see…‘Rock-a-Bye Your Baby with a Dixie Melody’ for starters.”

  Selene hummed the melodies. “Not too shabby. Would you help me refresh my memory? Let’s see, Every Good Bird Does Fly, right?” She recalled a pointer on how to read musical notes. “That big old piano in the parlor looks lonely.”

  “I—I doubt I’ll have time.”

  “Sure you do. If you promise to stay until the baby comes.”

  “Until…April?” Such a possibility had entered her mind, but only as a tease. To stay for several months?

  “Time will fly. I promise.”

  “But I have a life in Haw River. I have to help Papa.”

  “Really? I thought your mother was helping him just fine.”

  Hestia swallowed. No doubt Mama was doing an exemplary job for Papa. What would they say, or think, if she lingered in Maiden? “I–I’ll write them and see what they say. In fact, I’ll do that right away.” To demonstrate, she made a move toward the place she had stored her writing paper.

  Selene gasped. “You mean you’ll do it? You’ll stay here with me until the baby comes?”

  “If my parents raise no objections, yes. And of course, I’ll be sure it’s okay with Aunt Louisa. But I doubt she’ll object.” Part of her hoped they would, but another part of her hoped they’d be happy to let her stay. An unbidden image of Booth entered her mind.

  Chapter Eleven

  A few days later, Hestia was on her hands and knees waxing the dining room floor when she heard a knock on the front door. They weren’t expecting visitors and the mail had already been delivered, so she wondered who it could be. Hopefully the person waiting on the veranda was a door-to-door salesman and Aunt Louisa could dismiss him. Looking frazzled and not at her best since she was in the middle of a big chore, Hestia had no desire to see anyone herself. She listened for footsteps but heard no one stir.

  “Aunt Louisa? Selene? Could one of you get the door?” she called.

  “Selene’s napping. I’ll answer it!” Aunt Louisa shouted from the kitchen. “Just let me get this teakettle situated.”

  “Thanks.” Hestia dipped into the wax, applying a clump of soft tan paste to the cotton rag that had once been white. Though the task was hard on her knees, she enjoyed rubbing the smooth, fragrant paste into the wood, giving it a well-deserved drink. Applying wax wasn’t the bad part; the real effort happened after it dried and she had to take a clean rag to it, buffing the wax into the floor until the pine planks shone. The pungent, clean smell would likely linger at least a week, reminding her of such accomplishment in keeping a sparkling home. The floor would be slick for some time after waxing no matter how much Hestia buffed. They’d have to remember not to slip and fall.

  Her aunt’s footsteps signaled her approach. “Hestia, it’s for you.”

  She stopped in midstroke. “For me?”

  “Yes. It’s Judith Unsworth from church.”

  “Oh.” She rose to her feet and wondered what had prompted a visit from her friend. There was no time to make herself presentable other than to give her hands a quick rinse. At least Judith would understand her sorry state of appearance and wouldn’t mind seeing her in her worst housedress and a white cotton scarf holding her hair out of her face.

  “Hey, you,” she greeted her friend in the parlor. She didn’t want to sit down on the good furniture lest she get wax on it. “I’m so glad to see you. Sorry I look a fright.”

  “Hey, yourself. I’m
the one who should apologize for coming here unannounced, but I wanted to stop by and ask if you and your family would like to share Thanksgiving dinner with us this year.”

  Hestia had been so concerned about Selene that Thanksgiving had slipped up on her. She hadn’t even thought about preparing a meal. Perhaps she’d procrastinated about planning. The prospect of cooking an entire turkey for three people was too depressing to contemplate. “Do you mean Aunt Louisa and me?”

  “No, I mean you, Miss Louisa, and your cousin.”

  “Selene?”

  Judith grinned. “Yes, unless you have another cousin staying here that you haven’t mentioned.”

  Hestia recalled a stern-looking Mr. and Mrs. Unsworth. “Your parents won’t mind?”

  “They understand and say they are glad to include Selene.”

  Hestia didn’t know what to say. On one hand, she was sorry yet another family in town knew about Selene; on the other, the fact that Judith and her family would reach out to them in such a gracious way touched her. “That is very generous of you, and I’d love to accept. But I must consult with Aunt Louisa first. May I give you our answer at church this Sunday?”

  “Of course. That’s plenty of time. Mother is preparing a feast for twenty-two, so another three won’t matter.”

  “Twenty-two! My, but that’s a houseful.”

  “Yes, she invites many friends and family every year. It’s quite a party—one of the highlights of our year. So I do hope you’ll be among us.”

  “Thank you. And if Aunt Louisa does agree, please allow me to contribute to the meal. I can bring an apple or pumpkin pie and perhaps a macaroni-and-cheese casserole.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  After Judith left, Aunt Louisa sought out Hestia in the dining room. Hestia was prying open the tin of wax so she could resume her work. “What did Judith want?” Aunt Louisa asked.

  Hestia stopped her task. “She wanted to invite us to share Thanksgiving dinner with her and her family.”

  “Thanksgiving.” Aunt Louisa nodded. “I hadn’t thought much about it, but that’s right around the corner. On the thirtieth, right?”

  Hestia sat back enough to give her knees a rest. “I believe so. Do we have plans?”

  “I hadn’t made any formal plans. With just the three of us, I wasn’t thinking I’d put on a huge meal. We’d just have too much left over.”

  “I’ll say. I don’t relish the prospect of turkey wings flambé three weeks after the fact, either.” She giggled at her own joke.

  “We’d be fighting over them anyway since a turkey only has two wings and there are three of us.” Her aunt grinned at her own wry humor before turning serious. “I do believe the Unsworths put on quite an event every year. Motorcars line the street every Thanksgiving so there’s not an inch left for anybody else to park.”

  “She did mention that twenty-two people were attending, so we’d make twenty-five.”

  “Twenty-five! I don’t think I want to go anywhere with that big a crowd. So she invited Selene, too?”

  “Yes.” Hestia noted her aunt’s surprise and disapproving scowl. “I think that’s terribly nice of them.”

  “Are you sure they invited her, too, or did you just assume?”

  “No, ma’am. She very specifically included Selene.”

  Aunt Louisa showed her state of being taken aback by jumping a bit. “Well, isn’t that something? I’m surprised Edith Unsworth would allow Selene in her house.”

  Hestia flinched. “Mrs. Unsworth does seem a bit strict, but apparently her heart is larger than we thought. So will you let us go?”

  “I don’t know….”

  Hestia rose to her feet and looked her aunt in the eye. “Oh, Aunt Louisa, this is just what Selene needs. She’s going crazy here in the house all the time, barely being able to see the light of day or step foot outside.”

  “I know you feel sorry for her, Hestia. Compassion is a good quality. But Selene brought her situation on herself. She has to face the consequences. And some of the consequences are that people aren’t going to think as highly of her as they would respectable folk.”

  “Maybe not, but should she be deprived of a few slices of turkey on Thanksgiving because of it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll think about it. Like I said, I don’t like crowds.”

  Hestia would have preferred a definite yes, but her aunt’s promise to consider the possibility would have to do for the present. With two strikes against eating with the Unsworths, she didn’t hold much hope.

  In spite of their congenial conversation earlier, Selene hadn’t expected to see Artie anymore once he got his Model T repaired. She assumed he was just being nice, pretending not to be bothered by her situation. Though she had made fun of the modest cars she’d seen in Maiden, riding in such a conveyance now seemed the ultimate in luxury.

  Winter night had fallen, yet someone knocked on the door. “Who could that be at this hour?” With Selene’s condition evident by the fact that her belly looked as though she carried a ball, Aunt Louisa had told her she wasn’t supposed to open the door to strangers even in daylight, but neither Aunt Louisa nor Hestia seemed to be available.

  When the knock became persistent, she decided it was better to answer than not. She indulged in a quick peek in the mirror before venturing to the front parlor. She still hated her hair. It was naturally a deep blond, but new growth against dyed platinum blond made her roots seem to be the color of strong coffee. She felt pale without any face paint even though Hestia and Aunt Louisa insisted her lips were pink enough and her eyes blue enough to add color to her face without enhancement. Still, she didn’t feel so confident.

  Another knock beckoned.

  Confident or not, she had to respond to the visitor. Maybe it was an emergency, someone stranded on the side of the road looking for help. She rushed to the door, being careful not to step on the bare dining-room floor that Hestia had recently waxed. She opened the door. Before her stood a vision who looked more handsome with each passing day. “Artie!”

  “Hello. I’d just about given up getting an answer. Had y’all gone to bed?”

  “Not yet. I don’t know where Hestia and Aunt Louisa are. One of them usually answers the door.” She glanced back at the bedrooms, hoping that one of her guardians wouldn’t emerge and scold her in front of Artie. “Sorry it took me so long.”

  “I don’t mind. I hope this isn’t too late for me to stop by.”

  “No, but I’m really not supposed to answer the door, so I hope Aunt Louisa doesn’t get too cross with me. It’s always nice to see you.”

  “I’ll take the blame.” He handed her a bouquet of yellow blooms tinged with robust rust-colored edges. “I noticed these asters in my garden this afternoon, and I picked them for you before it got too dark. I do believe these will be the last of the season. I wanted you to have them.”

  “Flowers? For me?”

  He looked around. “I don’t see anyone else standing here.”

  She giggled and realized she hadn’t laughed much since she left New York. At least not unless Artie was around.

  “I hope you like them.”

  She took them from him and buried her nose in the biggest of the blooms, sniffing its light aroma. “I love them. I do believe they’re the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen. Yellow is my favorite color.”

  “I’m not surprised. You remind me of sunshine.”

  She smiled. “With a compliment like that, I can’t let you stand out there in the cold. Come on in. We didn’t prepare a dessert tonight so I can’t offer you any sweets, but I’ll be glad to fix you a cup of cocoa or coffee.”

  “No thanks. I just ate.”

  “Let me put these flowers in a vase, and then we can talk.”

  She made her way to the kitchen. Artie followed her. “Watch out in this dining room. Hestia just waxed.”

  “All right. I’ll be careful. Better yet, you be careful.”

  “I will.”

  O
nce they were in the kitchen, Artie took off his jacket and sat right in the head chair as though he belonged. And she supposed in a way he did; he’d been to the house quite often before his motorcar was fixed. “Sure you won’t take a cup of coffee since we’re already in the kitchen?”

  “No. I just wanted to see you.”

  “Me?” She blurted even though she shouldn’t have been surprised. With an involuntary motion, she looked at her stomach and back. “I don’t know if Aunt Louisa would approve.”

  “Why not? I’ve been coming here all along. I didn’t do anything to offend her, did I?” He spoke with the confidence that he knew he couldn’t have insulted her.

  Being careful not to trip over Diamond, she found a vase in one of the cabinets and set it on the counter. The clear glass vessel wasn’t the right size for the bouquet, but she managed to squeeze the flowers into it anyway. “No. I’m sure you didn’t. But good old Aunt Lou looks at me as a tainted woman. And I suppose I am. I—I can’t believe someone like you, someone from a respected family, would visit me. And I know you’re not chasing my father’s money, either, because I understand you have plenty of your own.”

  “Seems gossip works both ways.” Somehow his voice held no rancor.

  She chuckled, arranging the flowers. “I wouldn’t call it gossip, but you are very well known here. One thing I’ve learned about small towns since I’ve been here is that everyone knows pretty much everything about everybody else. That can be good or bad. Aunt Louisa thinks that in my case, it’s bad.”

  “I won’t lie to you. Maybe I should, to spare your feelings, but I won’t.”

  Taking a seat in the chair across from him, Selene had a feeling she knew what he planned to tell her. “It’s fine to be brutally honest. Maybe if my friends had been more honest with me in the past, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “Okay then.” He took in a breath. “People have been talking about you. Some think you’re bad because of what happened to you. But the good news is, you can overcome it. Our God gives us many second chances.”