Dancing on Dew

by Leah Atwood

  A horn blew and Sheriff Grayson rode a proud black mare down the middle of the street, directing everyone to the side before the parade began. Standing on his toes, Joseph craned his neck, searching for signs of his brother or sister-in-law.

  “Papa, Papa,” Gloria called from behind him.

  Pivoting, he opened his arms and caught his running daughter. “Having fun?”

  “Yes. Guess what?” Her nearly violet eyes widened to excited saucers.

  “What?”

  “There’s going to be a chicken race later. Isn’t that silly?” She covered her mouth and giggled.

  “Very.” He set her down but grabbed one of her hands so she couldn’t run off.

  Jeremiah stepped forward, balancing Hope on his hip. “Tallie’s at your wagon, said she had a special delivery to make.” He gave an exaggerated wink. “I don’t know what it could be.”

  Joseph couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “Is she meeting us for the parade?”

  “Yes. We made plans to meet up in front of Nell’s.”

  “We should head that way soon.” He nodded toward the sheriff making another sweep of the street.

  “Will you carry me, Papa?” As more people pushed into the area, Gloria’s excitement faded.

  Crowds overwhelmed her, but he knew from experience she’d be giddy again once the parade was over and the celebration dispersed through town. He scooped her into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hair tickled his nose, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything for his little girl.

  The boardwalk in front of Nell’s Restaurant was a popular parade viewing spot. Between him and Jeremiah, they stood in the last two spots available for front row viewing. When Tallie met them five minutes later, he gave her his spot, and let Gloria watch from his shoulders.

  Midway through the parade, Weatherton’s school-age children marched down the street singing The Star-Spangled Banner. Too late, he realized they were led by Sissy. He’d done his best to avoid spotting her other than at church, and the vision of her clenched his stomach muscles into a tight knot.

  She wore a dress similar to the one she’d handed him in the store several weeks ago, but something about it looked different. He’d never admit to anyone that he’d stared at the dress for several minutes, studying the design and fabric, and imagining it on Sissy. If he had any sense, he would have given it back to her because he was most certain he hadn’t meant to hand it over, but she’d been visibly uncomfortable in his presence. Nevertheless, this comparable dress she wore today flattered her just as much as he envisioned the other would have.

  The children continued to pass, and Joseph scowled when he spotted Barry bringing up the rear. Had he helped Sissy orchestrate the performance? Since the children were on summer break, he hoped they had practiced for the event before school let out, and before Sissy began keeping company with Barry.

  He emitted a low growl.

  “What’s wrong, Papa?”

  “Nothing, darling, just clearing my throat.” He added a cough for emphasis. Even if a four-year-old could understand the situation, she didn’t need to know her father was a jealous fool.

  When the parade ended, he bought Gloria the popcorn they hadn’t had time to buy beforehand. They ambled around the town, eventually making their way to a large plot of land just behind the town where the remainder of the festivities would take place.

  Lining one side, was a row of tables, each filled with contest entries—pickles, pies, jams, and relishes. At the far end, a makeshift stage had been constructed, where a band played. If this year was like previous years, anyone who wanted could join in playing. It’s also where the basket auction would occur.

  Down the center of the field, different games for the children were happening. A sack race, a three-legged race and tug of war.

  Gloria tugged on his arm. “Can I do the sack race?”

  A quick scan in that direction showed several children near Gloria’s age participating. “Okay, I’ll race you over there.”

  Giggling, Gloria ran off. Joseph moved his arms and legs at an unnaturally slow pace, allowing his daughter to beat him there. Jeremiah and Tallie caught up to them in seconds, and Hope fussed to be put down. She toddled near her parents while waiting for Gloria’s turn.

  Two rounds passed before Sam Holden handed Gloria a flour sack. He stepped back, pointed to a long ribbon stretched out thirty feet away and addressed the three contenders of this round. “When I blow the whistle, you’re going to hop to that line. The first one to cross, wins.”

  The whistle blew.

  Joseph clapped loudly, cheering on Gloria. She started out in first, then a boy he didn’t recognize crept ahead. He yelled her name louder, giving her all the fatherly support he could. The competitive side he’d forgotten about resurfaced and he applauded louder when she took the lead again, pumped his hands when she crossed the line first.

  He ran to her and spun her around in a congratulatory hug. “Great job, darling.”

  Who cared if she was only four and it was a sack race—he was proud of her for giving it her all. He turned to the other two children and congratulated them as well. After all, it was only a children’s game, and they’d all done well. Maeve Holden handed each child a piece of candy, and Gloria received an extra for being the winner.

  Mayor Richton took the stage with a megaphone in hand. “Attention everyone. If you brought a basket to auction off or plan to bid, please approach the stage now. We will begin in ten minutes.”

  Jeremiah elbowed him. “Have your money ready? I hear the schoolteacher donated a basket.”

  Facing his brother, he shot him a scathing glare. Whether it was a jab at the incident of his youth, or hinting to pursue Sissy, didn’t matter. Either one was enough to annoy him. “Watch it, or I’ll bid on Tallie’s and leave you out to eat alone.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Jeremiah wrapped an arm around his wife. “Besides, she’d never send me away, would you sweetheart?”

  “Brothers.” Tallie sighed and rolled her eyes. “You are both welcome to share my basket.”

  Although he had no intention of bidding on a basket, he followed his family. Whatever Jeremiah paid for Tallie’s, he would match that with a donation of his own. All funds raised went to the school to purchase supplies and books for the upcoming year.

  The mayor announced the event’s official beginning. He held up a woven basket wrapped on the top half with medical gauze. Everyone watching laughed.

  Doc Foster yelled out, “I’ll start the bid at twenty-five cents.”

  “Thirty cents.” Rand McCade followed his bid with a hearty chuckle.

  “I’ll cut to the chase and bid two dollars.” Doc Foster shot Rand a smug glance.

  “Do I hear two dollars and five cents from anyone?”

  No one else bid. Tradition made people bid on baskets they didn’t intend to win, just to needle their friends or up the cost and make the auction a huge success. However, two dollars was too high or a price to risk for the wrong basket.

  “Flynn Foster, you are the winner of a fine basket that smells like it has a mighty delicious roast inside, made by your own Myrtle Foster.”

  The crowd went wild with applause and whistles as the elderly couple made their way up the stage steps to claim their dinner. Never one to miss an opportunity for fun, Doc Foster planted a kiss on Myrtle in front of everyone, which sent the town folk into another roar. Myrtle blushed but beamed at her husband.

  When everyone calmed down, Mayor Richton moved on to the next, and then another. The fourth basket, Joseph recognized as Sissy’s. It was decorated, but had an unmistakable hole on the bottom front corner.

  Barry started the bid at fifty cents. Lucas Holden countered with fifty-five, much to everyone’s surprise. A few other single men joined in the bidding until it reached one dollar. The bid belonged to Barry, and green jealousy sluiced through Joseph’s veins.

  “One dollar and fifty cents,” he called out, a
cting on impulse.

  Across the way, Barry pinned him with an odd gaze. “Two dollars.”

  “Five dollars.”

  Men and women alike gasped at the hefty price.

  “Six dollars.” Barry looked in his billfold, his twitching jaw belying nervousness.

  Good, he doesn’t have much more money with him. “Ten dollars.”

  Everything went silent. Not a person spoke, nor did any bird sing. Never, in the entire history of Weatherton, had someone bid ten dollars for a basket.

  No one offered a higher bid, and the mayor declared Joseph the winner of the basket.

  Now that he felt everyone’s stares on him, and he thought about what he’d done, his stomach churned. He’d made a scene and bought himself an expensive meal with a woman who he doubted would be happy about her companion.

  “Go ahead, now’s your time.” Jeremiah nudged him and gave a sympathetic smile. “We’ll take Gloria with us. Do what you know you know you need to do.”

  All eyes focused alternately on him and Sissy as they made their way to the stage from separate sides. Her cheeks flamed and the glare she gave him burned hotter than the midday sun.

  After climbing the steps one slow stride at a time, he pulled out the necessary bills and handed them over in exchange for his dinner. The basket was a hot coal in his hand, but there was little he could do now to save his dignity.

  He’d made either the dumbest, or smartest, decision of his life.

  Chapter Eight

  Cicely’s gums hurt from the force of her clenched teeth. Propriety dictated that she share the prepared meal with Joseph. She offered Barry an apologetic expression that she hoped conveyed she was not a willing participant in Joseph’s outrageous winning bid.

  So much for a pleasant afternoon. She’d anticipated the day with great fervor and had expected Barry to ask for a deeper commitment. They’d spent many hours in each other’s company over the last several weeks, and he’d hinted yesterday to a formal, exclusive courtship.

  Not that Barry would ask today, since Joseph had ruined their plans, but when he did, her answer would be yes. Barry was a solid man who would make a fine husband and, one day, father. In time, she would fall in love with him.

  With a stiff back, she marched up the steps, and then to the center where the mayor stood with Joseph. The entire ordeal was utterly humiliating. Ten dollars for a basket dinner! Who ever heard of paying such a ridiculous amount?

  That everyone’s eyes were trained on her and Joseph was bad enough, but in seconds, once their shock wore off, they would all begin whispering and rumors would fly. Goodness only knew what gossip would be circulated by the end of the day. She’d never been so embarrassed in her entire life, and that said a lot considering she’d once lost her stomach’s contents in front of the entire church.

  Turning her head so no one but Joseph could see, she threw another glare his way. What had gotten into him and possessed him to do something so drastic? Her only consolation was that he appeared twice as miserable as she did if that were even possible. Serves him right.

  Together they walked off the left side of the stage. Mayor Richton proceeded with the next basket and the crowd buzzed again. She couldn’t let herself think about what they were saying.

  Joseph carried the basket, but kept a distance of several feet from her. “Where do you want to go?”

  Away from you. “Where ever.” Her shoulders rose in a flippant shrug, then she remembered his daughter and hope bloomed for a buffer between them. “Will Gloria be joining us?”

  “No.” He didn’t elaborate, and walked a far distance from the crowd, past the field and to a secluded area.

  His silence as they walked angered her. He had a lot of nerve humiliating her, taking precious time away from Barry, and then not saying a word.

  Without asking if she found the spot suitable, he set the basket down and withdrew a thin sheet that he spread over the grass. He proceeded to unpack the basket, food she’d prepared especially for Barry. Thick slices of bacon with her special honey biscuits, potato salad sweetened with a hint of sugar, and triple berry pie. She even included a jar of freshly made lemonade.

  When he finished setting out all the food, he stood upright. He started at her without making eye contact as though unsure what to say or do next.

  She’d let him know—she had plenty to say. Putting one hand on her hip, she produced another glower. “Why did you bid on my basket?”

  “I don’t know.” He twisted an arm behind his back.

  “You’re many things, but you’ve never been a liar, Joseph Scott.” Her voice rose with each word. “Why did you embarrass me like that?”

  “That wasn’t my intention.” A smidgen of contrition entered his voice.

  “Answer my question.” The meanness in her tone shocked her, but she continued. “Barry’s a good man who treats me well, and you interfered with that by making a spectacle of this.” She waved a hand over the meal.

  “Do you love him?”

  His counter-inquiry caught her off guard. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Maybe so, but it’s not a hard question to answer.” An unreadable emotion flashed in his eyes. “Tell me you love him, and I’ll leave now and send him here to share the afternoon with you.”

  She swallowed hard. Pulled between confusion, honesty, and fury, she couldn’t stop the tears that sprung from flowing.

  In an instant, Joseph stood in front of her, enveloping her in strong, comforting arms. “I’m sorry, Sissy, I never meant to make you cry.”

  How many years had she dreamt of a moment like this? Too many. She leaned into him, taking what she’d wanted for years. The fabric of his shirt was rough against her cheek, but it soothed as only an old, familiar comfort could. She drew a breath, inhaling the scent of leather and nature that clung to him. Seven years had passed, but she’d never forgotten the way he smelled, and her heart jumped to realize it hadn’t changed.

  He stroked her hair, stopping intermittently to twist and unwind strands around a finger. His breath caressed her cheek when he bent his head to whisper more apologies.

  For the past, for today, she didn’t know. All she knew was a feeling of completeness that vacated her life when he’d left Weatherton. A feeling that, no matter how hard she tried, she’d never been able to replicate with Barry.

  The thought was enough to dampen the tenderness of Joseph’s embrace. This moment was nothing more than a mirage in the romantic desert of her life. She tore away from him and put space between them.

  “What’s going on, Joseph?” She blinked away the pool of tears, refusing to give him sight of them.

  He started to reach out for her, but dropped his hands to his side. “I can’t stand the idea of Barry courting you. I know he’s the better man, but I saw him bidding for your basket, and jealously took over.”

  She took a deep breath to keep from shouting. “This is all about jealousy then, nothing more?”

  “No.” A deep sigh rumbled from his chest. “I’m fumbling this in the worst way.”

  Seeing his frustration with himself play on his face softened her heart. “Just be honest, that’s all I ask.”

  “I want us to have a second chance.”

  “Why now?” She wrapped her arms around her waist. “You broke my heart once before, and it’s still hard to accept that you left me, but I pushed forward in life anyway. Then, I came to you last month and offered friendship, and you pushed me away.”

  “I’m sorry about that day. From the bottom of my heart, I never wanted to hurt you.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them. “Before I tell you more, please know that I loved Clara. Even knowing how our life turned out, I wouldn’t go back in time and undo my marriage to her.” Pausing, his throat bopped when he swallowed. “Since I’ve returned to Weatherton, since I’ve come home, I’ve rediscovered who I am. In that process, I’ve moved beyond my grief and accepted my life as it is now, and the return to
my roots. The man who I was in Chicago, that wasn’t the real me, if that makes sense.”

  “It does.” Her eyes traveled the length of him, taking in his denim pants and chambray shirt. A black Stetson rested atop his head. She tried picturing him in the city, wearing a coat and vest every day, and a derby hat to replace the Stetson but couldn’t. “You belong outdoors, working the land and cattle. It’s who you are.”

  His eyes lit with appreciation. “You get it. You understand me in a way that Clara never did. We had a good marriage, and despite our differences, we had a deep love and respect for each other. When Gloria came along that love grew even stronger. However, sometimes I wonder if I’d met her under different terms—if she’d just moved here instead of me to Chicago—would she have still loved me?”

  She took a few seconds to compose her response. “I believe she would have. Love is love, no matter where it was found.”

  He squeezed shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you.”

  They still hadn’t accomplished much. They’d shared parts of their hearts and wounds, but they hadn’t gotten to the answers.

  “What do you want a second chance of? Friendship? Romance?” She swallowed, not wanting to say the next part, but knowing she had to. “I can’t have a friendship with you, not without something more. We have too much of a history, and it wouldn’t work.”

  “I agree, and that’s why I gave you the abrupt dismissal the day you came out.” Once again he reached for her, this time allowing his palm to settle on her cheek. “I was wrong, but the resurgence of feelings scared me and I didn’t handle it well.”

  “No, you didn’t,” she couldn’t help saying.

  “If you want to run and hide, I wouldn’t blame you. You’ve always been the better person.” His fingers moved, subtly rubbing her cheek. “Even that day in the mercantile, I knew you didn’t want to help, but you did anyway. Your heart’s always in the right place.”