by Pat Dale
“So why are you here? I thought you didn’t like the place.”
“Do you think that simply because I believe you should consider alternatives? I didn’t say I’m opposed to a new store up here.”
Hands on hips, she stared wide-eyed in mock surprise. “You certainly made me think you were. You’re a wonder.”
His pleasant tone sent ripples of excitement through her, just as it had years ago when they were a couple of kids growing up on the side of the hill above town. She’d always loved his soft voice. His eyes began to twinkle and she knew he was going to say something funny.
“Hattie McCall, I swear. Don’t you remember how I love debate? I still get my kicks from defending either side of any argument. That way, I can usually make a good decision about what is right and what is wrong.”
Despite a desire to be curt, her pique evaporated. One blink of his gorgeous eyes and her insides knotted. Before she knew it she was smiling at him.
She did recall the times in speech class when he’d startled their teacher and amused the class by taking the most absurd and unpopular positions on any issue. Class clown, he was. Class thinker, too.
“Okay, Brad. I remember. But I’d like to know which side you think is right this time around.”
“Fair enough. When I’ve decided, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’d like to show you something.”
Before she could respond, he held out his hand. Without thinking, she took it and found herself being led across the field. Though she wanted to ignore it there was no denying the spark as their hands touched.
When they were half way across he used his foot to push brush away from a small stake. “Harry and I measured off the place where he wanted to build the new store. This is the front corner. You’ll have to use your imagination, but I think you’ll get the picture.”
Harry and Brad were up here together? Electric sensations ran along her spine. Hattie pulled on his hand to get him to turn toward her. “You and Dad worked the measurements out together?”
“Yep. Oh, he wouldn’t have told you about it, Hattie. He knew you considered me the lowest form of life on the planet. And I couldn’t tell you either, could I? Remember how you made sure we never got within speaking distance of each other? Until today?”
“Until today.” She jerked her hand free and stepped back a couple of paces.
“Oh, come on, Hattie. I’m not going to bite you.”
“I know that. But please explain what Dad thought. He never got a chance to tell me, and I’d really like to know.”
He walked away from her, counting paces. Presently, he pushed back some more low brush to reveal a second stake. “This was going to be the northwest corner. Harry thought the building should be built on the diagonal. Come on.”
Without waiting, he led the way across to the back of the clearing to still another stake. “Northeast.”
She followed along in stunned silence as he strode around to the final stake. From the size of it, her father envisioned a grand scheme. Brad turned to her. “It was to be a tall single story building of hewn logs and wooden shingles so it would fit into the woodsy setting. With a sign that could be seen from the highway and downtown.”
Her body tingled. She’d just had the same ideas for the store although Harry never shared any of this with her. “Yes. I can visualize that. Dad was a good businessman.”
“He was more than that. He was a good father, wasn’t he?”
There was a hint of liquid in his eyes. This man who never cried, never worried about anything, suddenly seemed to be on the ragged edge of tears. She was dealing with a load of emotion as well.
How could he have been close enough to Harry to relate to him as a father at the same time as I was keeping my distance?
He interrupted her thoughts. “He was a wonderful man.”
She rubbed her eyes as tears threatened to roll down her cheeks. “Oh Brad, I miss him so much. And now I have to decide all this stuff. But I don’t know what to do.”
He turned to her and watched when the conflicting emotions reflected on her face. “Follow your heart, Hattie McCall,” he spoke softly. “Just follow your heart.”
Her dad’s famous and often-repeated advice undid her. She stood trembling, blinded by her tears. Harry’s words echoed through her, amplified by Brad’s youthful baritone.
Giant teardrops reflected the last rays of the afternoon sun as she gave him a timid smile before turning away. “But I have to know my heart, Daddy. How can I follow what I don’t even know?”
Brad moved to face her again, smiling softly. “Listen, Hattie. Your heart will tell you if you listen well.”
More of Harry’s words. How did Brad know about them?
And then he added, a little louder, “About lots of things.”
Her eyes shot open. Those weren’t Harry’s words! She stared at his enigmatic expression.
“What do you mean by that, Brad?”
“I don’t know. It just sort of slipped out.”
“But how did you know exactly what Dad would say to me?”
Instead of answering, he pulled her into his arms, his lips closed over hers. For long seconds, they stood locked together, the kiss was unlike any they’d shared in the past.
She turned breathless in his grasp. Breathless, but not bereft of feeling. Her body heated to an impossible degree, fireworks going off in her brain, and a feeling of feathery lightness. He finally released her and stepped back.
As she gazed at him, his face became closed and blank, like a total stranger.
“Brad?”
He shook his head and turned toward his vehicle.
“Where are you going?”
He spun around and snapped, “Home. It’s time for me to go home. Good night, Hattie McCall.” He trotted to the Jeep before she could say a word.
Chapter Two
Questions flooded her mind, fast and furious, while she stared after him. What was that about? What was he about to say? How could he have known Dad so well? Why did Brad kiss me like that?
She rubbed her teary eyes again and watched the Jeep disappear. Something deep inside fairly screamed for her to call him back, run and throw her arms around him. Kiss him with fire and passion. To...
“Stop it!” Her words echoed down the empty road. “No way, Brad Trimble. You can’t do this to me. Not again.”
Through the giddy irrational voice in her spirit came another deeper, more reasoned, call to hold her tongue. And her lips. Brad hadn’t really changed. Why should she expect him to respond to her now?
After the sound of the Jeep faded into the twilight, she returned her focus to the gorgeous view of the hillside and town. The sun’s last rays painted the entire scene with a warm golden-red aura. She stood very still while the shadow line claimed the lowest elevation. While she watched, it worked its way slowly up the hillside until darkness moved over the golden cross atop the steeple of the church that had once been central in her life.
She almost expected heavy layers of fog to appear, ala Brigadoon, claiming the town for another century at the moment of sunset. Early evening chill sent shivers over her skin as she rubbed her arms with her hands. Although the weather was still pleasant, there was no doubt the crisp Missouri autumn was not far way.
When she drove back into town, her thoughts turned to the store and what she should do about relocating. Logic should dictate her decision rather than sentiment. Even Brad couldn’t fault simple logic. She’d evaluate the existing building and draw out a complete list of renovation and repair needs.
She needed a good estimate of the cost of a new store. A simple comparison would suffice; that and projected revenues from the two options. Her decision could be made then.
Hattie released an involuntary sigh when she passed the church on the way up the hill to her home. It appeared not to have changed when she attended Harry’s funeral. But why was so reluctant to enter that sanctuary all these years?
* * *
Brad let the Jeep idle down the steep incline, his emotions out of control. He’d almost said too much, something he couldn’t allow. Not now. Maybe never.
And why the devil did he kiss her? He hadn’t even thought about it. Well, he had thought about it, but not like that. Not there. His lips still burned from the contact with hers, so soft but ever so warm and inviting.
Still remembering the feel of her sensuous little body in his arms, his mind faded to the last conversation he’d had with Harry McCall, just before the man suffered the final stroke and the rapid deterioration that followed.
“Brad, I have to tell you something. I’d always thought you and my girl would end up together, but it looks like she’s never going to get over her attitude toward you. You’ve become pretty much a son to me. I always wanted a son. Maybe, if you and Hattie can’t be anything else, you can at least be like a brother and sister to each other. That way, when I’m gone, you’ll have one another to lean on.”
Brad struggled to remember his response. His feelings were anything but brotherly toward Hattie. He might love her, or he might learn to hate her, but he couldn’t imagine being her brother. He’d mumbled something before reassuring Harry he would be around for a good long time.
Boy, had he been wrong on that count. Harry collapsed the very next day and they’d never had another opportunity to talk. Except for the final promise he’d made to the older man as he died.
Harry, struggling for breath in his pain, pressed Brad not to give up on Hattie, no matter what. Brad had promised to see the building of the new store through with her. Though he had mixed emotions, he’d given his word and would help her do what was right, though that might not be easy.
His eyes took in downtown Leadburg as he drove the Jeep slowly along the main street. With new perspective he saw the peeling, flaking, faded paint, broken and incomplete cornices on the taller buildings, boarded up windows of shop after shop. Ever since returning to Leadburg, he’d studiously avoided taking a clear look at the downtown, clinging instead to his boyhood memory of the place.
In his heart he knew progress was inevitable. That, just as automobiles replaced horses and electricity had made oil lamps a sought-after relic in antique stores, the new malls and super shopping centers were bound to replace the old general stores. Those towns that refused to keep up with the times would fade into the background of history. With no aggressive forward-looking plan, Leadburg Missouri would wither and die.
If Hattie chose to renovate and modernize the Mercantile, she’d only be postponing the inevitable. A revitalized general store would help the town, but couldn’t possibly bring enough additional business to turn the tide for the local economy. A brand new store on the hill, though, just might be what it would take to do that, even though the remaining downtown survivors wouldn’t like it one bit.
His thoughts returned to the fiery freckle-faced redhead. The girl had always been able to turn him absolutely tongue-tied. She still had that hold over him, though she didn’t seem to know it. Or care.
I’ve got to find some way to get over her.
He absentmindedly slipped the vehicle up the side street to the house he’d grown up in and still shared with his mother. Amelia Trimble, fifty-eight and showing signs of failing health, insisted on preparing dinner each night for her son. She was standing at the door, waiting.
“Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?”
He looked at his mother and smiled sadly. “Oh, some good, some not so good. Okay, all in all, I guess.”
“Did you have trouble at the paper?”
“No. No trouble.” He attempted a brighter smile. “Actually, it was a pretty good day.” He stepped past her into the parlor before mumbling, “I saw Hattie today.”
He’d tried to sneak it in as nonchalantly as possible but his mother’s interest perked up at the mention of the name. “Hattie? You saw Hattie McCall? Oh my. How is she?”
“She’s fine. Running the Mercantile, you know. I had to go see her to set up the fall ad program for the store.”
“I feel so sorry for her. Losing her father like that, and with her mother already gone it can’t be easy on a young woman. Was she happy to see you?”
“Don’t know about that. She was pleasant enough.” He hoped that would satisfy his mom’s curiosity.
It didn’t. “Was she friendly pleasant, or just polite pleasant?”
“Pleasant, Mom. Don’t make more out of it than that.”
“I’m sorry, dear. I just remember how happy you two were. For a little while. She’s not married or anything, is she?”
He’d do anything to avoid vexing his mother, but she wasn’t the least bit helpful. “I don’t know what her marital status is, and I don’t think she’s the least bit concerned if I know or not. She’s still using her own name.”
She shook her head and turned toward the dining room. “Well, come on, son. I’ve fixed a nice stew for you.”
Relieved she was going to let the topic drop, he relaxed and followed his nose into the room. “Smells delicious. Have I ever told you that you’re the greatest cook in the country, Mom?”
“Yes. Yes, you have, dear. Just about every day, you have. I only hope you can find some nice young lady who knows how to cook when you finally decide to get serious about settling down.” She blinked twice. “I wonder if Hattie can cook.”
“Mom! Give it a rest. Please?”
“Sorry, dear. Here, let me fill your plate.”
* * *
Hattie tripped quietly through the big old house. Out of long habit she avoided making noise but now she thought about that, there was nobody left to disturb. Or to please, except the ghosts of the old house. A renewed sense of loss sent tears to rolling down her cheeks as she went upstairs to her bedroom.
After slipping out of her clothes and pulling a floor-length flannel gown over her head, she went over to the window and gazed at the moon. In three-quarter phase, it seemed larger than usual. The clear night sky allowed the bright rays to cast full shadows on the ground beneath the tall oak trees surrounding the home.
She curled up in her wooden rocker, letting the moon glow flood over her. It was a magical moment, one she wished she could share with someone. Someone like Brad. But no, that would mean romance, and she was having none of that.
I tried romance and look where it got me. Love is just another four letter word.
Men were fickle. Look at the fool Brad made of himself over that other girl the day she’d broken off with him. And then there was Tommy down at the Cape while she was in college. She’d thought he was really serious about her. That was, until he used her to help him patch up a romantic squabble with her roommate.
No, a girl couldn’t trust boys. And after all, men were just overgrown boys. No sense worrying about it. She’d just have to conquer life on her own terms.
Still, it would be nice to have sounds of life in this big old house. Maybe she should go to the pound and get herself a pet. A big dog, maybe a lab. She’d always wanted a lab but her mom worried about allergies, not to mention the messes and such. Now, she was gone. So was Dad, who would have approved of her having a pet. She could check out the local pound for a good stray in need of a decent home.
She’d already brushed her teeth and put her hair up when she remembered she’d forgotten dinner. She grimaced at herself in the mirror. No sense stuffing food down her throat when she wasn’t hungry.
With a shake of her head, she climbed into bed full of thoughts of building new stores, remodeling old ones—all while a tall trim hazel-eyed man shook his head at her from just beyond the focus of her dream.
* * *
Hattie awoke with a start as early morning sunlight flooded the room, blinding her. Rubbing her eyes, she held them shut against the brightness before heading for the bathroom.
Usually fresh and energetic in the morning she felt unfocused and rubbery, as though her bones had softened during the night. What a night. I want to make a decision and al
l I can do is muddle around.
Gerald greeted her as she entered the Mercantile at a quarter past nine. “Mornin’, Miss Hattie. Nice day, isn’t it?”
“A beautiful day, Gerald.”
“Shirley and I have everything set up. Maybe this’ll be a good day for the store.”
She thought about Shirley, Gerald’s wife, who was the bookkeeper and did most of the merchandise ordering. The Rileys, childless but happily married and in their early fifties, had been a godsend. Their faithful hard work had helped her overcome most of the difficulty of taking over the store after her dad passed away.
She asked, “How did we do, yesterday?”
“Not bad. A little behind last year. We’ll make it up, missy, don’t fret about it.”
“I’m not fretting, Gerald. As long as I have wonderful people like you and Shirley helping me, we’ll do just fine. And that reminds me. I need to call the Express and make a couple of changes in our ads.”
She made her customary rounds through the store, greeting each of the half-dozen employees on her way to the stairs. Once up in the office, she dialed the newspaper.
“Good mornin’. Leadburg Express.”
“Morning, Sheila. This is Hattie McCall. Is Brad in?”
“Nope, but I surely expect him to come traipsin’ through the door any time now.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Anything I can do for ya, Hattie?”
“Nothing in particular, but can you give him a message? I want to reconfirm the ad program for the Mercantile. And I need to make a couple of changes.”
“So you’re goin’ to go ahead with the ads?”
“Oh, sure. Let’s reduce the price on the Wellington boots by two dollars and make them a headliner. I also want to make the ad double normal size. Something that will be sure to get everyone’s attention. With borders.”
“Yes ma’am, with borders! We can sure do that. Brad’ ll be pleased as punch.”