by Mona Ingram
“It belonged to your namesake.” Janelle’s gaze wandered around the kitchen, as though viewing it from a great distance. “Her name was Charlotte Freeman. She would be your great, great aunt. Your great-grandmother’s sister.”
Charlie’s pulse started to race. “Did she live here?”
“Yes. According to family history, she fell in love with a cowboy from Montana.” She brightened. “As a matter of fact, they met at the dance hall. Anyway, he arrived the summer of her eighteenth birthday and worked at a couple of the big ranches in the valley. Then he went off to earn money in the rodeos. He was thrown from a horse and killed.”
Charlie gasped aloud, but Janelle didn’t seem to hear.
“The story goes that when they told her about the accident, she was holding the teapot. She didn’t say a word, but started to tremble all over and dropped the lid. She went up to the attic and they couldn’t get her to come down for days.”
Charlie was beginning to understand. “It’s romantic and sad at the same time.”
“That’s not all.” Janelle shook her head. “She and the cowboy had wanted to get married, but her mother and father refused. On the very day she got the news about his death, they had planned to meet at the dance hall and elope. And get this: there was a full moon; they’d planned it that way so they could travel at night and get as far away as possible.” Janelle’s eyes filled with tears. “She went back to the dance hall every time there was a full moon. That is, until she finally died of a broken heart.”
“And she never married.”
“No.” Janelle was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on Charlie’s face. “You know, you look quite a bit like her.”
“I do?” Charlie’s heart started to beat faster.
“Quite a lot, actually. That’s her picture in the upstairs hallway.”
“That young woman? She’s beautiful.”
Janelle cocked her head to one side and studied Charlie as though she were a chunk of granite she was about to sculpt. “If you pulled back your hair, you’d resemble her even more.” She jumped up and rummaged in a drawer. “I have a hairbrush in here somewhere. Oh, here it is.” She stopped, brush in hand. “Do you mind?”
Charlie was uneasy, but curiosity won. “Okay.”
With a few quick strokes Janelle pulled back Charlie’s hair and gathered it into a twist at the nape of her neck. “It’s a bit on the curly side but here, have a look and you’ll get the idea.” Janelle handed her a mirror.
Charlie examined the image in the mirror. The hairstyle changed her looks completely. Her face appeared longer, more elegant, and the upswept hair emphasized her long neck.
“I guess I do look a bit like her.” She eventually tore her eyes away from the mirror. “Those are her trunks in the attic, aren’t they?”
Janelle nodded slowly. “I’d almost forgotten about those. I’ll admit that when I first heard the story I thought it must have been exaggerated over time, but seeing those trunks all packed and ready go to, I believe it. She really must have loved him.”
“How in the world would she have got out of here with those big things?”
“The story goes that after they met at the dance hall, they planned to come here, collect her trunks and head for Montana.”
“But what about her parents?” She gave a delicate shudder at the thought of the cold, unfeeling faces in the portrait.
“Apparently they were away at an agricultural fair.”
“Wouldn’t they have gone after her, forced her to come back?”
Janelle frowned. “I don’t think so. Things were pretty strict back then. My guess would be that once she’d run off, the family probably would have disowned her. Or perhaps they would have made up a story about why she’d gone away, but then we’ll never know, will we?” She tapped the hairbrush against her cheek, deep in thought. “I can’t imagine what her life was like after she learned that he’d died.” She raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”
Charlie shuddered. “I’d rather not, especially assuming that those are her parents in the portrait across from her.”
Janelle nodded.
“They look nasty. I’ll bet they made her life miserable.” She picked up the mirror again and studied her reflection. “I wonder if I’d have had the nerve.” She glanced over at her aunt. “You know…if it had been me?”
“I think you would have.” Janelle’s eyes grew misty. “Love is such a powerful emotion.” Her voice was so soft Charlie had to lean forward to her the words. “They say it lasts forever.”
Charlie believed her. Everything she’d learned about her ancestor confirmed it. Since arriving at Clearwater Springs, she had somehow tapped into Charlotte Freeman’s soul, with all its joy and sorrow. She knew without a doubt that the young woman with the haunted eyes loved as strongly today as she had all those years ago.
Chapter Six
Charlie found her aunt quietly drinking coffee on the porch the next morning. “I’d like something to do. I’ve decided I’m going to take some time away from writing.”
Janelle looked at her fondly. “If I didn’t have this cast, I’d be working in the garden. Are you up for picking some lavender and lemon balm?”
The ringing of the telephone cut off Charlie’s reply and she ran into the kitchen.
“Hello?”
“Uh…hello.” The woman’s voice was hesitant. “Is Janelle there?”
“Sure.” Charlie passed the handset to her aunt.
“Hello?” Janelle listened for several minutes, her face reflecting growing dismay. “Please Laurel, don’t worry about The Trip. I can do it myself. More importantly, is there anything I can do to help you?” She listened for another minute. “Well, if you change your mind, be sure to let me know.” She nodded, as if reassuring the person on the other end of the line. “Really, we’ll be fine. You just take care of your mom and call me later in the week, okay?”
She disconnected and turned to Charlie. “That was Laurel. She cleans the dance hall. Her mother fell and broke her hip. She’s only recently been widowed, and Laurel is the only family in the area.” She pushed herself up and made her way to the window. “Life sucks sometimes, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Will she be all right, do you think?”
“I think so. I’ll give her a couple of days to get settled and then I’ll stop by to see if there is anything I can do.” She looked down at her foot. “At least I get my walking cast tomorrow. I can hardly wait.”
“You said she cleans the dance hall. Why don’t I take that over? I’ll be there anyway, for the dance lessons.”
“I suppose so.” Janelle fingered her braid. “We could get you down there a bit early, and you can get started on it.”
“What’s involved?” Charlie asked, hoping she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew.
“I leave it up to Laurel. I know she sweeps the floor, wipes down the tables, checks the bathrooms…stuff like that. She usually works five or six hours at it, but you could spread it out over a few days if you like, since you’ll need time for your lessons.” Janelle leaned against the counter. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? It would save me the trouble of finding someone else.”
“Are you kidding? I’d be happy to help.” Charlie could hardly wait to spend a few hours alone in the place where Charlotte had fallen in love.
“Well, that’s settled them. Come on, I want to show you my herb garden.”
* * *
Charlie hung the last of the lemon balm and breathed in the citrusy scent. “This is so much nicer than anything that comes out of a bottle.” She laughed self-consciously. “I probably wouldn’t have said that a week ago, but it’s true.”
Janelle steadied the ladder while Charlie climbed down. The air in the barn was heady with the scent of lemon balm and lavender. “All perfumes start with something from nature. Even the ones that end up with no natural ingredients started out by copying something from nature.”
Charlie stuck her nose
in a bunch of lavender and inhaled. “I suppose so. You know, since I came here I keep realizing there’s a lot of stuff I don’t know.”
“Really? You mean you don’t know everything? Shame on you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” Janelle surveyed the hanging herbs. “But think for a moment. When I go to the city, not only do I have trouble finding my way around, I practically lay a trail of breadcrumbs behind me when I go into one of those big malls. I’m terrified of getting lost.”
“In a mall?” Charlie’s voice rose in disbelief.
“I kid you not.” She touched her braid. “In the city I’m completely out of my element. Frankly, I don’t care for it, but that’s not the point. There are things you learn automatically living in the country that you don’t need to know to survive in the city. And vice versa.”
“Like the stars. Jason explained to me why the stars are so much brighter here. Or at least they appear to be.”
“Exactly!” Janelle glanced at the remaining bunch of lavender. “Are you going to tuck that in your dresser drawers?”
“Actually, I thought I’d take it up to the attic. It’s a bit stuffy up there and the window won’t open.”
* * *
Charlie paused in front of Charlotte’s portrait, seeing the young woman with fresh eyes. In spite of what Janelle said, she simply didn’t know how she would have acted in Charlotte’s place. But then, she’d never felt the kind of love that lurked behind those dark eyes…an abiding love that was so strong it permeated everything Charlotte Freeman had ever touched. Charlie could almost reach out and pluck it from the air.
She ran up the narrow staircase and burst into the attic, clutching the bunch of lavender.
The soft golden light wrapped around her like a comforting shawl. She knew why Charlotte had fled to this spot after receiving the dreadful news; there was solace here in this peaceful haven.
Charlie headed toward what she was beginning to think of as ‘her’ corner and reached for the reading lamp beside the chair. With a start, she realized that the teapot was gone. The book of poetry lay on the table, undisturbed as far as she could tell. She willed herself to keep an open mind and turned to survey the rest of the cozy corner. Perched on top of one of the trunks, the small teapot gleamed dully. It had been on the table when she last saw it and she sank back in the easy chair, wondering what this new development signified.
She looked down into her lap where she had inadvertently crushed one of the stalks of lavender. She reached for the teapot, filled it with lavender and returned it to the side table. A shaft of sunlight low on the horizon filled the room with diffused light, creating an atmosphere of peaceful serenity. She re-settled herself in the chair and picked up the book of poetry. It was well worn, and as she opened it, a faint scent of lavender wafted up from the pages. With a knowing smile on her lips, she began to read.
* * *
In spite of Janelle’s supportive words the previous night Charlie was unaccountably nervous about the upcoming dance lesson. Her aunt had spoken in glowing terms of Tyler Stewart. “He’s a sweetheart,” she’d said. “In his mid-thirties. He and his wife used to go to The Trip every weekend. That was before I owned it, of course. She died around the same time as Matt, and we met at a support group.” Janelle had paused for a moment, caught up in painful memories. “Anyway, it took him until last year to start socializing again and trust me, he’s a great dancer.”
Charlie pulled on her jeans and stopped in front of the mirror. “I can do this” she said aloud. “What’s more, I want to do this.” She put on an extra-long T-shirt, and then brightened the look with a long scarf around her waist. The bold splash of colour was just what she needed. She went downstairs, eager to start the day.
Janelle was already downstairs. “You look great” she said, eyeing Charlie’s hair. She had pulled it back from her face again this morning, admittedly copying Charlotte’s look.
“Thanks, but I’m still nervous.”
“If it’s any consolation, Tyler will probably be nervous too. He’s never taught anyone before. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you. He’ll be coming in the side door, so if you leave it open a bit he won’t have to holler for you. Helps to air out the place, too. Listen, are you hungry?”
“Actually, I am.” Charlie didn’t know how she could be nervous and hungry at the same time, but she was. “I was going to ask if you have any eggs, but I suppose that’s a silly question.”
“I have lots, but they’re all outside.” Janelle busied herself at the stove. “Do you mind going out for some?” She looked back over her shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Jason is out there, but he probably won’t recognize you. Ask him for half a dozen.”
Charlie slipped into her oldest pair of sneakers, which she now kept by the back door. It seemed like ages since she’d seen Jason. His ATV was parked underneath the weeping willow in the driveway, but he was nowhere in sight. The water dispenser had been refilled, so he must be around somewhere.
“Now you stop that.” His muffled voice sounded annoyed.
She followed the sound to the door of the chicken coop. He was bent over, hand beneath a nesting chicken who was pecking at him, clearly angered at being robbed.
“I thought they just laid their eggs and then went about their business,” she said to his back.
He stilled for a moment and then withdrew the egg. “Most of them do. This old girl has always been broody.” He placed the egg in a basket and turned. “Whoa, Charlie, is that you? You look different.” His gaze slid down to her shoes and his mouth twitched. “I missed you yesterday.” A broad sweep of his hand indicated the yard. “Around here, I mean. I didn’t see you.”
“And here I thought you missed my company.”
“I did but – oh, never mind. You know what I mean.” He seemed flustered. “Your hair is different.” He studied her openly, smiling his approval. “I like it.” His cheek dimpled and Charlie’s pulse quickened.
“Charlie! Have you got the eggs?”
Jason came out of the chicken coop, basket in hand. “Morning, Janelle. How many would you like?”
“Hi, Jason. Half a dozen please. Would you like to join us for a quick breakfast?”
“Thanks, but I’ve had mine.” He stepped into the sunlight and hiked his head toward an addition at the back of the house. “Come on, Charlie. I’ll show you where the eggs are stored.”
The small room held a sorting table and a large refrigerator. The eggs were efficiently organized and Jason slipped six into a small bag. “We save the cartons for selling,” he explained. “Today is Monday. This fridge will be almost empty by the end of the day. It’s surprising how many people come for eggs on Monday.”
“How does Janelle get anything done?” Charlie asked, almost to herself.
“That’s no problem. The customers take what they want and write it down. They pay once a month. Listen, you’d better get these eggs up there.” He handed her the bag, and his fingers brushed hers. “Will I see you later?”
Charlie thought ahead to her busy day. “I don’t know. I’m going down to the dance hall to do some cleaning. I’m filling in for Laurel while she takes care of her mother.”
“Oh.” He seemed disappointed. “Well, I’ll be here tonight for my evening chores. If you’re around, I’ll see you then.”
* * *
“Okay, you’re all set.” Janelle’s voice echoed in the empty dance hall as she adjusted the sound level on the CD player. “Tyler said he’d bring his own CDs, but you might as well have some music while you work.” She looked over the cleaning equipment they had dragged out of a small closet. “I can’t think of anything else, so I’ll leave you. Jack is waiting outside to take me to get my walking cast.”
Charlie sorted through the CDs and chose a selection of Cole Porter tunes. Not exactly what she’d listen to at home, but the old classics seemed right for this atmosphere. She grabbed a broom and started sweeping b
etween the booths that circled the room. Janelle had showed her the lighting panel and they had switched on the illumination for the carousel horses. Astride a brass post, each horse was a work of art. She studied them as she worked around the room, marveling at the skill of the carvers. It was no wonder Janelle appreciated them so much. The lights bathed the room in a soft glow, and Charlie’s thoughts turned to Charlotte. Had she stood here on some magical evening and listened to the music as she was doing now?
Still holding the broom, she took a few tentative steps, moving out to the center of the dance floor.
“Charlotte?” The deep voice trembled with barely concealed emotion. It was not a voice she had heard before and yet it was familiar. She turned slowly, still clutching the broom.
A tall man stood in the narrow shaft of light from the open doorway, a black Stetson in his hands. He reached out with one hand and then let it fall to his side. He took a couple of steps into the room, his gaze never leaving her face. As he came closer, his brow furrowed.
Charlie returned the scrutiny. Dressed in a snowy white shirt and slim black slacks, he had the kind of rugged good looks that most women only dream about. In the light from the door, shards of gold glinted in dark brown eyes. And those eyes remained fixed on her.
He fumbled with the rim of the Stetson, turning it in his hands. “I’m sorry” he said gently, I thought you were someone else.” He broke eye contact and looked hopefully around the dance hall.
“You called me Charlotte. You know about my great great aunt?”
“Your great great aunt?” Comprehension relaxed his features. “So that accounts for the likeness.” He waved his hat, encompassing the dance hall with one broad gesture. “She loved it here. She loved to dance.”
“I know.”
“You do?” His eagerness was touching.
Charlie smiled at him. “Yes, I do.” She hesitated for a moment and then plunged ahead. “I only just learned about her, but I feel close to her. It’s as though I’m feeling everything she used to feel.” Her gaze turned inward. “It’s a bit spooky, actually. Like last Saturday night. I was watching the dancers and then all of a sudden–” she stopped and stared at the man in front of her. It was the same man!