by Leah Atwood
They walked to the other cabin, maintaining a space of several feet between them. Neither said a word until they reached the steps of the porch.
“Tallie made a cake last night for dessert. There’s still some left if you’d like a slice.” Offering food was all he knew about being a host. Clara had taken charge of any entertaining they did.
“No, thank you.”
“Want to sit?” He gestured toward the rocking chairs.
“I guess.” She set her basket by the chair on the left then sat down.
The second rocker was too close to her, so Joseph opted to sit on the porch steps. “How are your parents?”
Her face relaxed at the safe topic. “Pa’s good, but missing Ma. She’s been in Nebraska for three months caring for her sister, but my aunt passed away a few days ago so Ma will be home soon.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He looked down at his thumbs. “Losing a loved one isn’t easy.”
After a long pause, Sissy responded. “I heard about your wife and son. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you.” He didn’t want to delve into his life with Clara. Not with anyone, but especially not with Sissy.
She changed topics. “Tallie told me you have a daughter. Will she be coming to school?”
“She’s only four.”
“We’ll break soon for summer, but she’s welcome to come in the fall. If she comes, I’ll teach her.”
“I’ll have to see.” Nudging a pebble with the toe of his boot, he pushed it to the step’s edge and watched it tumble to the ground.
“You haven’t been in church since you came back.”
Instead of being irritated, a rare spirit of playfulness struck him and a corner of his mouth turned up. “Have you been watching for me?”
“No. I happened to notice that’s all.” A pink blush covered her cheeks.
“The truth is, I haven’t much felt like going.”
“Since Clara’s death?”
When Sissy’s eye’s met his, he averted his gaze, sure he’d see the normal judgement in them. “I don’t blame God, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not.” Her calm voiced covered him with waves of understanding. He’d forgotten how easy she was to talk to.
“I tried going to church a few times after Clara and my son died. For Gloria’s sake especially, but it was hard to see all those families gathered in one place. Each one was a reminder of what I’d lost.” He took a deep breath, unnerved that he’d shared something so personal.
“Everyone grieves differently. I imagine you do what you have to do just to get through it.” Her stare penetrated his soul, and he wished he could take back their history.
After Clara died, he’d erected walls around him for a reason, and he didn’t care for the fact Sissy could see right through them. Even after all this time, it was as though nothing between them had changed.
Which terrified him to his core. He surged to his feet, prepared to end this reunion with a cool dismissal. “I should get back to work. Thanks for stopping by.”
Sissy nodded with understanding. She grabbed her basket and stood slowly. Walked past him without a word. After she’d gone a solid twenty feet beyond him, she turned. “I only came to offer friendship and welcome you home—nothing more.”
“Some things never change, Sissy, and I can’t deal with that right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at the emotions and memories charging him from all angles.
A glimpse of satisfaction flashed across her features before she frowned again. “What is there to deal with? You made a choice seven years ago, and I respected that. We’ve both moved on, found separate lives.” She drew a long breath of air. “And I go by Cicely now.”
He ignored her last comment—she’d always be Sissy to him—and sighed. “You know exactly what, but I made the decision then that was right for both of us at the time. We were too young for a commitment. I’d barely turned eighteen, and you were only fifteen.”
“I turned sixteen the month after you left.” Her prideful chin jutted out.
“With a whole life ahead of you.” He walked toward her.
“A life we could have shared, that you’d said we’d spend together.” Years of anger flashed in her eyes.
Not that he blamed her, but life rarely went as planned. “Pa’s death changed all that.”
“It didn’t have to, but you let it. You could have waited a year until I turned seventeen and Pa would have let me marry, but you never even asked him.” A tear glistened in her eye. “You broke my heart, and I didn’t have anyone to turn to because no one knew about us—that you’d made promises to me.”
“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry?” He threw his hands in the air. “Then I’m sorry. I’m sorry that life throws us twists and rips our plans to shreds. I’m sorry I made promises to you that I couldn’t keep and I’m sorry I hurt you, but I don’t regret the life I chose.”
She backed away from him, her face pale and taut. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have come. Truly, I only wanted to welcome you, not relive old wounds.” Turning, she headed in the direction of her carriage.
Without thinking, his hand shot out to stop her, and he gently gripped her shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”
“It wasn’t the life I wanted, but I’ve had a good life since you left. Take care, Joseph.” Not turning around, she shrugged away from him and left.
Her dismissal had the air of a final goodbye. He watched her ride away until she became a speck of evaporated dust in the distance. Seeing Sissy was the last thing he’d been prepared for and the visit wrenched his gut.
Thirty minutes ago, he’d been grateful for the silence and time alone, After Sissy’s visit, he couldn’t wait for his family’s return. Being alone with his thoughts was the last thing he wished for—he was afraid of where they might lead.
He didn’t want to remember how much he’d loved Sissy and how badly it hurt to leave her, despite knowing it was the right thing to do. He couldn’t think about what their life might have been like had he stayed, or wonder if he could have been spared the heartache of losing Clara if he’d waited for Sissy.
Chapter Four
Cicely stood at the schoolhouse steps and stared at the building in which she’d spent so much of her life. First as a student, then as a teacher, but she wouldn’t step inside the building again for seven weeks. From mid-June to August, there’d be no school, and she was free of all employment obligations, except the Independence Day parade. The last day of school always left her with an empty feeling as she wondered how she’d fill the days of summer break.
Regardless of that feeling, there was reason to celebrate. She’d successfully completed her second year of teaching. Satisfaction and fulfillment boosted her spirits, and she decided to stop by the mercantile on her way home, purchase several yards of fabric. The summer would bring celebrations and picnics, occasions for a new dress.
In her newfound enthusiasm for the summer, she nearly skipped across the small plot of grass separating the schoolhouse from town. She passed Doc Foster’s house and waved to Myrtle and Lettie McCade, who were visiting on the porch.
Myrtle waved back. “Can you spare a few minutes to join us?”
“Is that cold lemonade I see?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Myrtle smiled and winked. “Freshly squeezed this morning.”
“How can I say no to that?” Cicely opened the newly installed gate.
Danny and Naomi, Lettie’s three-year-old twins, came running to her.
“Hi, Miss Sis.”
Naomi’s shortened version of her name brought a smile to Cicely’s face. Neither twin could pronounce her full name and had called her Miss Sis for as long she could remember. “Hello Naomi. Good afternoon Danny.”
“Ma bought us licorice from the store before we came.” Danny beamed and pulled another piece from his pocket.
“Make sure you’re sharing with your sister,” Lettie called fro
m the porch.
Cicely wove between the twins and climbed the few steps to the porch. “He gets bigger every time I see him,” she said, nodding to Rand Jr., Lettie’s youngest child who sat on the porch besides Lettie and played with a wood block carved into the shape of a dog.
“I can’t keep up making clothes for him. Thankfully, I saved most of Danny’s outfits as he outgrew them.” Lettie reached down and patted Rand Jr’s head. “But he’s such a sweet child. He almost seems too easy after having twins the first time.”
A round of laughter circled the three women.
Myrtle stood and offered her seat to Cicely. “Sit a spell. I’ll run inside and get another glass.”
“Thank you.” She knew better than to argue with the older woman and refuse the seat. Myrtle would only take offense.
“How have you been?” Lettie sipped from her glass. “I rarely get to town anymore and on Sundays, my hands are so full that I miss out socializing after church.”
“I’ve been well. Ma came home last week and Pa’s simply ecstatic.” She laughed. “One would think they are newlyweds, the way they can’t take their eyes off each other.”
A shy smile tugged at Lettie’s lips. “They’re an inspiration. I hope Rand and I are still that much in love after thirty years of marriage.”
“I’m certain you will be.”
The front door swung open and Myrtle walked through with a glass. She filled it with the sweetened beverage and handed the cup to Cicely. Her brows arched. “I heard the word love. Did I miss out on a new beau?”
“Not for me.” Unbidden thought of Joseph crept into her mind—his haunted eyes, his abrupt dismissal. Definitely no beau for me. “I was telling Lettie about my parents.”
“They are precious. I spotted them having a picnic on my way out to the Holden’s Saturday. They remind me of Flynn and myself.” Myrtle pulled a chair from the opposite end of the porch and sat. “I do think it’s time to find you a nice young man, don’t you think, Lettie.”
Cicely held back a groan. She was perfectly content with her life. If she told herself that often enough, she might start to believe it was true.
Lettie gave her a subtle wink. “But if she meets a young man and marries, we’ll lose her as a teacher, and I’d love her there to teach my children.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, low enough that Myrtle wouldn’t be able to hear.
“Fiddlesticks.” Myrtle expressed a good-natured huff. “One of the privileges of old age is speaking your mind, and I say that you should be married. A young, intelligent beauty like you could have her pick of men.”
“When I meet the right man, then I’ll consider marriage and not before.” She extended an arm and patted Myrtle’s hand. “But I do appreciate your vote of confidence in my ability to attract a suitor.”
Staring through the window, Myrtle wore a lovesick expression. “Life with the wrong man would be a terrible fate.” She pointed in the direction of her gaze. “There isn’t a man alive better suited for me than that man in there. Flynn is my heart of hearts.”
“I feel the same way about Rand.” Lettie’s faraway look mimicked Myrtle’s until she focused her eyes on the older companion. “Which is exactly why we shouldn’t press Cicely or any woman into marriage and inadvertently cause her to marry someone ill-suited for them.”
Myrtle threw her hands up in surrender. “That is true. I’ll let the subject drop.” She winked at Cicely. “For now.”
The conversation moved on to topics of more interest to Cicely though the subject of a suitor took residence in her thoughts and wouldn’t leave. When she left Myrtle’s forty-five minutes later, she decided it was time she allowed a man to court her. She’d had several men show interest over the years, but she’d turned them away with little consideration.
None had struck a chord in her, but maybe it was because she hadn’t given them a chance. It wasn’t unreasonable to believe she’d pushed them away so she wouldn’t have to risk her heart again. The realization stunned her.
Her steps faltered in front of the mercantile as she dwelt on the realization. Unwittingly, she’d allowed Joseph Scott too much control over her life. Anger toward him gurgled from her chest until she wanted to stomp her foot and scoop a handful of dirt and throw it at him.
What kind of man promised himself to a woman then left? A dishonest one. One that didn’t value commitment. They’d been young, but old enough for him to know better.
And he’d kissed her. Right before he had told her he was moving to Chicago, he’d kissed her. Why had he done that knowing his mind was made about leaving? He’d taken something special from her and turned it into a painful memory.
He hadn’t loved her. No man who treated her as Joseph had at the end could have loved her. After years of believing he had cared but they weren’t meant to be, her second heart wrenching epiphany of the day tore her apart.
She shuddered from the immense blow of it, then arched her shoulder and raised her head proudly. There’d been a time she’d been naïve, but no more. Once and for all she would put Joseph Scott firmly behind in her and leave him in her past where he belonged.
Marching into the store, she let the door swing shut behind her, then winced when it slammed. Fortunately, the mercantile was busy, and no one seemed to notice. Several women crowded the area where the bolts of fabric were displayed, so Cicely browsed through the ready-made dresses while she waited for the area to clear.
A lovely, pale green dress with small flowers caught her eye. She pulled it from the rack and turned, holding it up to examine it further. Only, someone was right beside and she hadn’t noticed their approach. The dress slammed into a masculine chest. Cicely’s gaze traveled upward, taking in the sandy-blonde hair and amber eyes she’d dreamt of for so long, about which she had just vowed to forget.
She briefly glanced upward, silently asking God, “Is this a joke? Or a test to see how firm I am in my resolve?”
“Hello, Sissy.” Joseph’s taut face led her to believe he didn’t want to see her any more than she wished to see him.
“It’s Cicely,” she said, reminding him a tad too curtly than propriety allowed.
“Gloria needs new dresses,” he offered, as though he needed an explanation for being in the clothing area.
“The young girls’ dresses are right there.” She pointed to a second makeshift rack, which consisted of a pole lodged into holes on opposite walls.
“Thank you.” His gaze moved to the wall of attire, and when his eyes widened, he appeared overwhelmed.
Compassion for him temporarily trumped her anger. “Do you need help?”
His jaw flexed. “No.” He stepped toward the dresses. “Yes, please. Clara always took care of these things. Tallie offered to come with me, but I thought I could do it on my own.”
“Where is Gloria?” she asked, thinking the choosing of dresses would be much easier if the wearer of them was present.
“At home, not feeling well.”
Cicely didn’t miss his quick intake of air and the short flash of worry across his gaze. “Is she all right?”
“I think so. Doc came out yesterday and said it’s a summer cold that should go away with rest.”
“If Doc Flynn says it should, then it will.” She conjured images of the few times she’s seen Gloria in town. “Your daughter is about this tall, correct?” Spreading her palm flat, she held it out horizontally, slightly above her waist, approximately three and a half feet from the ground.
“Yes.”
Working with that information, she pulled several dresses from the rack and handed them to Joseph. “What do you think of these?”
He eyed them carelessly, barely looking at them. “They will do. I’ll take them all.”
“Gloria will be a happy little girl when she sees them.” Glancing to the side, she saw the area she needed to visit had cleared out. “Have a good day.”
Joseph didn’t move. His eyes remained fixed on the shelf next to t
he dresses. After several moments, he cleared this throat. “Sissy?”
“Yes?”
A touch of pink dotted his cheeks. “Could I impose on you one more time? Gloria needs other items, not just dresses. I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
She felt her own cheeks warm. Discussing unmentionables—even in vague terms—with Joseph discomfited her. Without a word, she nodded and picked out the items he would need for his daughter. She shoved them in his arms. “Here you go,” she said and ran off, leaving him standing in the same place he’d been rooted for several minutes.
As she browsed through the bolts of fabrics, she realized that she had handed Joseph the green dress. He’d paid so little attention to the children’s dresses that he probably hadn’t noticed. She adored the pattern, but she wasn’t going back to him. Absolutely not. She’d completed her civil duty in helping him and now she was moving forward.
“Did you see this new calico that arrived yesterday?” Rosie Simpson sidled to her and held up a length of fabric.
“It is beautiful.” The print was similar to the ready-made dress she’d admired, and the color of green only a shade different. “I’ll take five yards.”
Rosie’s eyes sparkled with delight, and she laughed. “That was the easiest sale I’ve had all day.”
“The color is perfect for this time of year and reminds me of the summer grass.”
“I agree.” Rosie slipped the bolt under her arm. “Meet me at the counter in five minutes and I’ll have it cut and wrapped for you.”
“Thank you.”
While waiting, she picked out several notions a new spool of thread. After several minutes had passed, she went to the counter where a line of customers had formed. She claimed a spot behind Barry Plume, a friend since childhood.
His hair had darkened to an auburn hue from the bright red it had been when they’d been students and shared a desk. His green eyes rarely held anything negative. His cheeks were often ruddy, and she figured that an unfortunate consequence of his complexion. However, she’d never thought it detracted from his attractiveness, but rather lent a boyish charm to match his constant grin.