by Leah Atwood
Left to herself, Cicely scanned the sanctuary for an empty pew. Her eyes landed on one, the only space left which wasn’t occupied by someone standing or sitting. She moved to the wooden bench, then stopped. Drew in a hiss. Of all people, Joseph sat in the pew behind the one she’d targeted.
What was he doing in church? Why, of all weeks, had he chosen this one to return to the Lord’s house? She hadn’t seen him since that day in the mercantile, and not from a lack of searching. To her eternal self-humiliation, her eyes sought him out wherever she went, yearning to see him. How could she hold so much anger toward Joseph, yet still be drawn to him? The attraction drove her mad.
Regardless, she had to find a place to sit. She could either take the spot in front of Joseph or pray someone cleared out from one of the pews. Twisting her neck, she scoured the church for another spot, even a half pew that could accommodate her, Ma, and Pa. There was nothing else available.
A large family entered the building and Pastor Gibbons approached the pulpit. With no other choice, Cicely slipped into the empty pew.
“May I sit with you?” Barry stood at the pew’s entrance.
Shame filled her as she realized she’d forgotten all about him since she’d arrived. Torn, she didn’t know how to answer. An answer of no had the potential to set an uncomfortable precedent for their afternoon together. Yet an answer of yes had many implications. Rumors among church members would run rampant.
And they won’t when members see you leave together after the service?
True, she admitted to herself with begrudging honesty.
That wasn’t the real issue. The truth was, she didn’t want Barry to sit next to her for the basic, but complicated, reason that she didn’t want Joseph to see them together.
She realized Ma and Pa had slid in from the opposite side. Ma sat next to her, Pa on the far side. Barry still stood, waiting for an answer. Patting the bench, she gave him an answer. “Yes.”
His grateful smile made her feel awful. Barry deserved more than a girl besotted with another man who’d once left her and showed no interest in rekindling their romance. Not for the first time, she willed herself to put away every thought and dream of Joseph.
A great man sat next to her, and she needed to give him a chance, and spend time with him unencumbered by her fascination with her first love. Thank goodness no one can read my thoughts.
The pastor made two announcement then asked the congregation to stand for a hymn.
Cicely stood, and the hair on her neck prickled. Without seeing him, she felt Joseph’s eyes penetrating her. A thump in the rear of the church provided an opportunity to sneak a glimpse of Joseph without being obvious. Someone had dropped a hymnal, and she focused her attention up front again, but not before seeing a scowl on Joseph’s face. A glower that was aimed directly at Barry.
Against her better judgment, it sparked a fledgling of hope. Was Joseph jealous? This is ridiculous. She had to pull herself together. She looked at the hymnal and found her place though she knew the song by heart.
While she sang Rock of Ages, she became keenly aware of Barry’s presence next to her. His deep bass voice sang with confidence, and his faith shone on his face. A serene expression rested on his face, a contrast to the conflict exploding in her thoughts.
Conviction struck her while she watched him. Barry was worshipping through song, all while she focused on superficial ideas. Of all places, church was not where she should be contemplating her dilemma of loving Joseph and moving on from him.
Although it took an immense level of willpower, she trained her attention on the remaining hymns they sang, and then on the sermon. After the sermon, she told her parents goodbye and followed Barry outside. Self-conscious, she felt the eyes of every parishioner watched her, waiting for the moment she was out of hearing range so they could start gossiping.
Most of the scrutiny was in her head, she reasoned, but she knew with certainty that Joseph’s gaze hadn’t left her. Instead of the confusion or anger she’d wrestled with, indifference set in. The wounds of her heart were weary of the constant ache since he’d returned.
Barry’s arm looped through hers as he escorted her to the carriage. “I’ve packed a basket full of food.”
“That was thoughtful. Thank you.”
He shrugged, but gave her an impish grin. “Most people eat immediately after service. I didn’t want you distracted by hunger.”
His light jest broke her mood, and she laughed. “I do enjoy a good meal.”
They arrived at the carriage, a brand new Phaeton painted all black with a green wicker basket attached to the rear. The contraption made her family’s simple carriage appear dram and mundane.
Barry undid his arm then extended a hand to assist her up and into the seat. He untethered the reins before circling to his side and hopping up to sit beside her. “Are you ready?”
Cicely settled into the comfortable bench. “Yes.”
“How are you enjoying the summer reprieve so far?”
“I’ve been so busy that I’ve barely noticed I’m not teaching.” Her hands rested loosely in her lap, and she lifted her face, letting the soft breeze caress her skin.
“You never were one to sit still.” He glanced over and cast a wink. “That’s why you were Mrs. Devonshire’s pet. She never had to clean the school herself because you automatically did it once your work was completed.”
Even though his statement was an exaggeration, she laughed. “She only liked me best because I didn’t cause trouble.”
“Are you calling me a troublemaker?” Placing a hand over his chest, he feigned offense.
“I’m only saying that you caused the poor woman a few gray hairs.”
Barry grabbed the reins once again using two hands to hold them. “Maybe you’re right.”
“There’s no maybe about it.” Bending her elbow, she jabbed him in the ribs. “I’m just thankful none of my students are as rambunctious as you were. Even Lucas Holden can’t compare.”
“If Mrs. Devonshire was half as pretty as you, I wouldn’t have been a problem student.”
She lowered her lashes, and a demure smile touched her lips. From the edge of her vision, she saw a serious note take over Barry. No, no, no. They were having a pleasant time, and she enjoyed the light banter. She couldn’t handle deeper conversation or expectations yet. She needed time to build up to that level. “What did you bring for our picnic?”
A flicker of surprise, then understanding shadowed Barry’s face. “Fried chicken from Nell’s, corn on the cob, apples and Boston cream pie.”
Her mouth watered. “Can we skip right to dessert?”
“If you wish.” Barry, seeming to sense her needs, kept the conversation light and flowing until they came to an area several miles north of town with which she wasn’t familiar.
She moved her gaze over the surroundings, trying to place herself. “Where are we?”
“The corner of my uncle’s property.” Pulling on the reins, he brought the team of horses to a halt. “It’s a peaceful area I sometimes come to when I want to think.”
A flirtatious air came over her and she batted her eyelashes. “Or enjoy a picnic with a girl?”
Barry unmounted and hurried to her side. A devilish gleam lit his eyes. “Oh, you know, there’s been so many of them, I don’t think twice about bringing one anymore.”
As he assisted her to the ground, she gave his arm a playful swat. “And here, I always thought you had manners.”
His mouth curled into a half grin. “You were mistaken.” He released her arm and grabbed a picnic basket from the wicker basket in the rear. “In all seriousness, you’re the only girl I’ve ever brought here.”
“Oh.” In her heart, she’d known he hadn’t brought many girls here, but she’d expected there’d been at least one or two. “In that case, thank you for sharing it with me.”
“My pleasure.” He pointed to his left. “That cottonwood provides nice shade from the sun. I thought we
’d eat there unless you see a better spot.”
“Looks perfect to me. Can I help you do anything?”
“Relax and enjoy the afternoon, that’s all.”
They walked in slow strides, in no hurry to rush away their time together. Once they arrived at the tree, Barry removed a thin tablecloth from the basket and laid it over the smoothest spot of the cottonwood’s shade.
She sat down, spreading her skirt over her legs and ankle, so that only the tip of her shoe showed. Reaching into the basket, she helped set out the food. “This looks delicious.”
“Shall we pray first?” He extended an upturned hand.
Her acceptance of his hand gave her answer. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, then listened to Barry ask blessings upon their food and thank the Lord for their time together.
Conversation came easily as they ate, then took a stroll along the bank of the creek. Before Cicely realized how much time had passed, the sun dimmed in the sky, ushering in the evening hours.
“We should leave soon,” Barry said, leading her back to their picnic area. “Thank you for spending the afternoon with me.”
“Thank you for inviting me. Today was a pleasant break from the ordinary?”
Staring at her, his eyes narrowed, lending a solemn expression to his face. “May I ask a question?”
Her heart raced, and the temptation to say no almost overcame her. “Yes.”
“I couldn’t help notice the glowers aimed my way by Joseph Scott.” He shifted his weight, but maintained eye contact. “Did I step on any toes by asking you here today?”
All the air left her lungs in a whoosh. She’d hoped Barry hadn’t noticed Joseph’s poor manners. “No. Joseph and I were friends once, but we’ve barely spoken since his return. I’m not sure why he would give you dirty looks.”
Jealousy was all that she could figure, but that didn’t make sense. Joseph was the one who’d left and remained at a distance coming home to Weatherton. He was the one who’d made it perfectly clear their past would never be their present. But even if it was the truth that Joseph was jealous, she wouldn’t tell Barry.
“If you’re not seeing him then, maybe we could do this again soon?” He sucked in a short breath and held it.
“I’d like that,” she told him.
To her surprise, she meant it.
Chapter Seven
“Is it time yet, Papa?” Gloria hopped up and down in front of him.
Joseph placed palms on his daughter to still her. “Almost, darling.”
“What do we do again at a ‘dependence day celebration?”
“We celebrate America’s birthday with a big fair.” He tugged one of her pigtails and smiled. “There will be games, contests, even a parade.”
A dainty knock on the door interrupted the conversation.
Joseph peeked through the window and saw his sister-in-law. He opened the door to her. “Good morning.”
Gloria pushed ahead before Tallie could respond. “Can I ride to town with you, Aunt Tallie?”
“If it’s all right with your papa.” Tallie sought his gaze for permission and he nodded.
“Yippee!” Curious hands got the better of Gloria and she touched the basket in Tallie’s hand. “What’s in here?”
“Dinner for the basket social.”
“Why’s it decorated?” The questions from his daughter never ceased.
“See what you have to look forward to soon,” he teased Tallie.
“I grew up in an orphanage—I’m used to it.” She released a light chuckle then addressed Gloria’s question. “A basket social is a fun event in which all the women decorate a basket filled with food, then the men bid on the baskets. The exciting part is that none of the men are supposed to know which basket their wife brought, so they have to be very observant if they want to share their dinner with their sweetheart.”
Gloria frowned. “What if someone doesn’t have a sweetheart?”
“Then they’ll share their lunch with a friend.” Crouching down, Tallie gave her a brief hug. “No frowns allowed today. It will be a great day for everyone.” When she stood, she handed the basket to him. “Would you mind turning this in for me? I don’t want Jeremiah to know which is mine.”
“As if he doesn’t already?” Joseph arched his brow.
With a wink and a shrug, Tallie grinned. “I’ll never tell.”
He shook his head. “Where do I take it once in town?”
“Leave it in the wagon, and I’ll come grab it.”
The tantalizing scent of spiced peaches drifted to his nose. “I might have to bid on yours myself.”
She pretended to scowl and huff. “You better not.”
“I can’t make promises.” He enjoyed teasing Tallie, appreciated the sibling bond by which he felt connected to her.
A soft hand touched his forearm. “You know that you and Gloria are welcome to eat with us. I packed enough for all of us to enjoy a picnic.”
“Thank you.”
“I best get back to Hope and Jeremiah. Is Gloria ready to go now?”
“Yes.” He crouched to speak with his daughter. “You behave and obey Aunt Tallie and Uncle Jeremiah. Stay close to them and don’t wander off.”
“I’ll be good, Papa. Promise.”
He embraced her, and when he let go, watched her and Tallie walk to the other cabin. Loneliness caught him from nowhere. He’d done so well lately, but a voice in his head taunted him to stay home and forget the festivities altogether.
An alluring thought if not for Gloria. She’d looked forward to the celebrations for weeks and he couldn’t disappoint her. Besides, he had to take Tallie’s basket. He lifted the container and examined it. She’d decorated it in a pleasant, patriotic manner. However, he noticed a few of the stars appeared similar to a snowflake. Very clever. Joseph grinned, realizing he’d caught the secret message of the basket. Because of Tallie’s past, she and Jeremiah had a verse from the Bible they held dear, about being whiter than snow.
Basket socials had lost their appeal to him many years ago. He’d participated in one when he was sixteen. He’d wanted to surprise Ma by getting her basket since Pa hadn’t been able to attend that day, but he’d inadvertently bid on the basket of his teacher, Mrs. Devonshire. Their entire meal had consisted of her quizzing him on what they’d learned that week. For weeks, he’d been the laughingstock of all the school-aged kids.
Once he’d moved to Chicago, there hadn’t been any such events to participate in. Not that Clara would have wanted to attend one, regardless. The outdoors, especially eating on the ground, didn’t excite her, or even interest her. She’d been accustomed to meals at the finest restaurants and when she did cook, it was meals he didn’t recognize.
It wasn’t a bad thing as he’d expanded his palate to include foods he never would have tried otherwise. Such as spaghetti, which were these long noodles that reminded him of really thin dumplings, and topped with a sweet tomato sauce. That was one of his favorites of all the new dishes Clara had him try.
They complemented each other in that way. Although they came from different backgrounds, they’d come to appreciate and learn from each other’s differences. It also meant a great deal of compromising, which typically ended with him bending to Clara’s will, but he didn’t mind because he loved her and wanted her happy. Even now, he never begrudged those times. Despite her privileged upbringing that sometimes put a strain on their relationship, Clara had been a great wife, loving and adoring, and an even better mother.
A bittersweet smile fought to surface. His three months in Weatherton had performed miracles for him and every day was an improvement—his foray into memories of Clara proved that. He could think about her now without a crushing weight on his chest.
Physically, he felt better as well. Even Gloria had shown vast improvement. A few weeks after they’d moved into the newly built cabin, he’d convinced her to sleep in her own room. Her fear of the dark lost its potency and her smiles came often, the f
rowns less.
He carried the basket to the barn and set it inside the wagon before hitching the team. On his way into town, he thought more about how their lives had changed since coming home.
They began attending church again, which presented a challenge. Pastor Gibbons’ sermons spoke to him each week, healing a part of his soul or revealing an area in his life he needed to fix. Joseph enjoyed the social aspect of church also and had since restored old friendships. He had a solid community of friends, plus his small family.
The challenge was Sissy. Since that week he’d first stepped foot in church again, she’d sat with Barry every Sunday. The image of them sitting close, occasionally whispering, made his skin crawl. Once, he’d gone into town for some supplies, and saw them having supper together at Nell’s restaurant. He’d wanted to invite himself to their table and interrupt their cozy meal.
Sissy frustrated him more than any person ever had, and the worst part was, it wasn’t her fault in any way. He had no one to blame except himself. Jeremiah warned him that he’d lose Sissy if he waited too long, and Joseph was terrified he already had.
Yet, the thought of fighting for her, scared him even more. So many what-ifs. What if she rejected him outright? What if she told him she loved Barry? He wouldn’t be surprised. Barry was twice the man he was, and Joseph knew it—he had never hurt Sissy by breaking promises and abandoning her.
But the big question was—what if she did come to him and accepted his apology? What if they found love a second time and then she died as Clara had? He didn’t believe he could survive the loss of a second love, nor could Gloria. The fear of losing Sissy to death held him in a stranglehold. He could handle losing her to Barry if she was happy, but to know her love and have it ripped away for all this lifetime?
He struggled to weigh the risk versus reward, and at the moment, the risk won. His heart wasn’t strong enough. Yet.
Crowds of people already filled the streets of Weatherton when he arrived. He parked the wagon at the edge of town, near the livery. A cacophony of noise filled the air—people talking, the strumming of banjos, horse hooves clomping down against the packed dirt road. The scent of freshly made popcorn teased his nostrils. Once he found Jeremiah and his crew, he’d follow his nose and purchase a sack for himself and Gloria.