The 12 Brides of Summer Novella Collection #3

by Margaret Brownley

“The worst part is, I was betrothed to a man running for his second term as senator. He lost the election because of me.”

  He blinked. A senator? She was engaged to a senator? “Surely he didn’t blame you.”

  She shrugged. “Wouldn’t you?”

  He shook his head and covered her hand with his own. “I’m sorry.”

  Her cheeks turned pink as she glanced down at his hand, and he quickly removed it. An awkward silence passed between them before she asked, “What about you? How long have you lived in Bee Flat?”

  Grateful for the change of subject, he reached for another roll. “Moved here from Austin, Texas, when I was seventeen. I was a wild one, and my pa sent me here to live with my uncle and learn the blacksmithing trade. When my uncle died, I took over the shop.” He mopped up his plate with his roll.

  “A wild one, uh?” she said. She flashed him the prettiest smile, but there was something in her manner that alerted him, a sudden reserve perhaps. Maybe she regretted being so candid about her past. His cousin accused him of being insensitive. In reality he simply didn’t pick up on nuances. He needed things stated flat out, plain and simple. But oddly enough, tonight he was aware of every smile, every voice inflection, and every expression that crossed her pretty round face.

  They chatted for the rest of the meal. She talked about growing up in Boston and how a German immigrant had taught her to play the piano in exchange for free room and board in her parents’ home.

  “The problem with living with your piano teacher is you couldn’t get away with not practicing,” she said.

  He talked about growing up in Texas. He was only nine when his mother died, and that’s when he started playing truant and getting into mischief.

  “You must have missed her very much,” she said.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  Somehow the talk turned to Dyna. “When he came back smelling of perfume, everyone thought I’d been with other women,” he explained. “Even though I hadn’t.”

  “I’m so sorry.” This time it was her hand that sought his. He stared down at the lily white hand with the long tapered fingers, and his looked like a big clumsy paw in comparison.

  He offered to help clean up afterward, but she refused to let him. So there really was nothing left to do but take his leave. But he didn’t want the evening to end. He couldn’t remember having such a good time.

  “Thank you for the grub,” he said. Since the word hardly did the meal justice he quickly corrected himself. “Eh. . .stew. You’re a fine cook.”

  She smiled again and glints of golden light replaced the earlier sadness in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll take good care of him.”

  His mind drew a blank. “Him?”

  “Mo. . .uh.”

  “Dyna,” he said.

  The dog stood between them looking from one to the other as if waiting for them to make up their minds what to call him.

  She followed him out of the kitchen. Careful not to knock anything over, he plucked his hat from the sofa and set it on his head.

  “Did you bring all this stuff with you on the train?” he asked, glancing around the room.

  She shook her head. “My mother arranged for it to be shipped here. She insists that no one can be a proper lady without a properly furnished parlor.”

  “Well, then. . .” His gaze drifted to the piano. Would it be rude to ask her to play? Probably.

  She opened the door and a whoosh of air teased the draperies and ruffled Dyna’s fur.

  He stooped to pet him. “See you on Friday, buddy,” he said. “Don’t forget.”

  “I’ll see that he doesn’t,” she said.

  He stood and touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “Mighty obliged.”

  No sooner had he stepped outside than she whispered a good-night and closed the door. The soft prairie breeze had cooled the air, and the sky was a mass of twinkling stars.

  Overhead, Orion arched his arrow. Nearby was the constellation Canis Major—Orion’s hunting dog. Jed didn’t know much about music, but he knew about the stars. There wasn’t a whole lot to do on a lonely night but gaze at the sky.

  Just as he reached his horse, the sound of music wafted from the house. Marilee was playing the piano. The piece was unfamiliar but it wrapped around him like satin ribbons—or maybe a woman’s loving arms.

  Startled by the image that came to mind, he stood in the dark listening until the music stopped and there was nothing more to do but go back to his own lonely abode.

  Chapter 8

  During the week that followed, everything worked out according to plan. On Friday, Marilee opened the door and Mo took off like a streak of lightning.

  She felt a certain obligation to follow through with her part of the bargain, but there really was no way of knowing if Mo reached his destination. Unless, of course, she drove into town to check.

  Telling herself that she had only the most noble of motives in mind, she harnessed her horse to the wagon the moment Timmy’s lesson was over.

  Mo barked in greeting as she walked into the blacksmith shop. Jed looked up from his workbench, and she was momentarily distracted by the blue depth of his eyes.

  Catching herself staring, she pulled her gaze away to pet Mo. “I—I just wanted to make sure he got here okay,” she stammered, feeling foolish. She shouldn’t have come.

  Jed wiped his hands on a rag. “Just as we planned,” he said and smiled.

  She smiled, too. “I—I won’t keep you then.” She glanced at his workbench.

  He followed her gaze to the haphazard accumulation of motor parts and tools. “Thank you for taking care of him.”

  “It was my pleasure,” she said. Mission accomplished, she turned and walked out of the shop, the hem of her skirt flapping against her ankles.

  On Sunday, Jed sat next to Maizie in church, and Marilee didn’t get a chance to talk to him and find out how Mo was faring.

  Late that Monday afternoon, Mo showed up on her doorstep. As usual, the dog smelled like he was pickled in tuna, and his fur was matted with dirt. A good scrubbing took care of both problems in quick order. She towel-dried him and brushed him till his fur was soft and shiny, and then she changed into her prettiest blue frock.

  A knock came at the door. Pinching her cheeks and moistening her lips, she hastened to answer it. It was Jed, just as she’d hoped.

  “Wanted to make sure Dyna got here all right,” he said, pulling off his hat and holding it to his chest. He looked particularly handsome this day. He’d gotten a haircut, and his shirt and trousers were clean and pressed, and boots polished to a high shine. Obviously, he was on his way someplace special.

  “Yes, Mo got here with no trouble.”

  “That’s good,” he said. They stood staring at each other. “Something sure does smell good,” he said.

  “Roast beef.” She hesitated. “I’d invite you to stay, but I know you have other plans.”

  He looked puzzled. “I don’t have any plans, except to go home.”

  “Oh, I thought. . .” She glanced at his shiny boots. “Then perhaps you would care to join me for supper? There’s plenty.” She’d made certain of that.

  He stood on the walkway in front of her house, a crescent-moon grin on his face. “Well now. Since you put it that way. . .”

  The following Monday when Jed showed up on her doorstep to check that Mo had safely arrived at her house, he stayed for both supper and a piano lesson.

  They sat side by side on the piano bench, elbows and shoulders touching, and she took him through the basics. He was a fast learner and seemed to enjoy the lesson. Mo enjoyed it, too. Not once did the dog growl or bark, not even when Jed hit a wrong note.

  Jed didn’t have a piano to practice on, so Marilee invited him to come back the following night. Taking her up on the offer, he appeared on her doorstep with a huge bouquet of sunflowers, a bone for Mo, and a candy dish to replace the one he’d broken.

  On Wednesday night he
showed up with a bowl of fresh strawberries from his aunt’s garden, a piece of rawhide for Mo, and a tool kit to fix the broken leg on the chair he’d sat on.

  On Thursday he surprised her with a box of striped candy—her favorite—a rubber ball for Mo, and a new lamp to replace the one he’d knocked over the last time he came.

  “You don’t have to bring me gifts,” she said, though secretly she was flattered.

  “You won’t let me pay for my piano lessons,” he said. “This is the least I can do.”

  Mo barked in agreement, and she and Jed shared a laugh.

  The Tuesday Afternoon Club met in the social hall of the Bee Flat Congregational Church. A dozen women belonged to the group, including the perpetually heartbroken Maizie Denton.

  Only today she didn’t look all that forlorn. For once she was all smiles as she took her place next to Marilee.

  Mrs. Pickwick called the meeting to order. “Ladies,” she said. “I have some exciting news. The best. . .Maizie, do you want to tell it or should I?”

  Maizie grinned like a new bride. “You can tell,” she said with a giggle, her curls bouncing off her shoulders. Dressed all in yellow, she looked and sounded like a canary.

  “Very well,” Mrs. Pickwick said. “Maizie and Jed Colbert are back together.”

  Marilee’s mouth fell open. Jed was at her house every night for the last two weeks and hadn’t said a word about Maizie. Not once during all that time had he so much as mentioned her name.

  Applause followed the announcement and Marilee clapped along with everyone else, but her heart wasn’t in it. Not that she wasn’t happy for Maizie. Jed, too. But she would miss the long leisurely evenings she and Jed spent together. The lessons. The laughs.

  “When’s the wedding?” Mrs. Harper asked, and the question was like a knife in Marilee’s heart.

  “We haven’t talked about that yet,” Maizie said. “But he’s taking me to the Dog Days of Summer dance on Saturday. Who knows? Maybe he’ll propose to me then.”

  Mrs. Pickwick pressed her hand against her forehead. “Speaking of the dance, that reminds me.” Her gaze shot to Marilee. “Reverend Hampton asked if you would play that night. Our usual fiddle player will be out of town.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Oh, please say yes,” Mrs. Thompson pleaded. A recent newlywed, she was a pretty soft-spoken woman with a slight lisp. “I’ve heard you’re a talented pianist.”

  Mrs. Pickwick interpreted Marilee’s silence as consent. “Ah, good. It’s settled then.”

  It was far from settled, but there really was no polite way to decline.

  Maizie leaned sideways. “I bet you’ll be glad when the dog situation is resolved.”

  “Resolved?” Marilee raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “Once I make a proper home for Jed, I’m sure Dyna won’t want to wander anymore.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Marilee said, and added beneath her breath, “But Mo will.”

  That night Jed knocked on her door just like always. He looked and acted as if nothing had changed. He held flowers and candy but for once no replacements for broken furniture or knickknacks. That’s because she had been quietly packing stuff away to make room for his large physique and broad movements.

  “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked.

  She stared at him dumbfounded. “How—how could you?”

  He frowned. “How could I what?”

  His innocent act floored her. More than that infuriated her.

  Since he continued to stare at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses, she decided to spell it out. “I’m sure Maizie would not approve.”

  A baffled look crossed his face. “Why would she mind? She understands the situation.”

  Marilee blinked. Was that all she was? A situation. “Maybe she does. But I don’t. Good night!”

  With that she slammed the door in his startled face. The nerve of him! What kind of woman did he think she was? Entertaining a single man in her home was shocking enough, but bucking convention with a betrothed man went against all common decency.

  Jed pounded on the door. “Marilee, open up!”

  “Go away.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “We’re done talking, Jed Colbert. Now leave me alone!”

  Maybe it was her tone of voice. Or maybe he just got tired of standing on the doorstep, but he finally left. She moved a curtain aside and watched through the window as he rode away on his horse.

  Flopping down on the sofa she squeezed her hands tight on her lap, determined to hold her emotions in check. She wasn’t even aware that Mo had joined her on the sofa until he laid his head on her lap. The dog was not allowed on the furniture, but Marilee no longer cared. Nothing mattered anymore. Not her music and certainly not the blasted sofa.

  And that’s when the tears came.

  Chapter 9

  The Dog Days of Summer dance was held each year on the second Saturday in August.

  Marilee crossed the still empty dance floor and sat on the bench in front of the piano. Fortunately the instrument stood next to the window and a slight breeze cooled her heated brow. The dog days of summer traditionally lasted for forty days, and she hoped that held true for this year. So far it had been a hot and sultry summer, and she was anxious for it to end.

  After smoothing her blue satin skirt and adjusting the sleeves of her white lace shirtwaist, she rubbed her hands together and stretched her fingers. She then played an arpeggio to test the keys.

  The piano was so old that the F sharp sounded more like a G. If that wasn’t bad enough, the foot pedals groaned beneath her feet like an arthritic old man.

  Nevertheless, she sat primly upon the mahogany piano stool and gamely coached with nimble fingers whatever melody the yellowed ivories were willing to release.

  Chatter mingled with the music as couples began arriving. Matronly chaperones sat on either side of the dance floor determined to nip an inappropriate touch or whispered proposition in the bud. Soon the party was in full swing.

  Somberly dressed men whirled their partners around the dance floor. Next to the dark trousers and plain shirts, the women’s frocks looked as bright and colorful as flowers in a summer garden.

  Jed and Maizie walked in, and Marilee felt a squeezing pain in her chest. She didn’t mean to stare, and when he looked her way, her fingers fumbled and she hit several wrong notes. Mortified, she pulled her gaze away from the couple and focused on the sheet of music with unseeing eyes.

  Irritated at the way Jed affected her, she brought her hands down hard on the keys. Jed meant nothing to her. They were at the most friends—and new ones at that. She had no right to feel—what?

  Abandoned? Betrayed? They shared a few meals together, had a few laughs. Oh, yes, and they owned the same dog. But that was no reason to feel like she’d lost something dear and precious—like pieces of her heart.

  Maybe she was just lonely. She’d made friends galore since arriving in town but none were really close. Only Jed. She’d confided in him, told him why she’d left Boston. Trusted him. Funny how two people can hit it off right away and others took a lifetime to know.

  That was behind her now. She did what had to be done, and no matter how many times he’d returned to her doorstep—and there were many—she hadn’t wavered.

  Setting her thoughts aside, she pounded out waltzes, polkas and, for the older folks, quadrilles. Music. That’s the only thing she could rely on. That and her dear heavenly Father. As for the hurt, eventually she’d get over it. She always did.

  Jed knew the instant that Marilee left the dance hall. It wasn’t just that the music had stopped, but the room had grown notably dimmer, as if she’d taken some of the light with her.

  Fortunately, Maizie was busy talking to the new doctor in town, so she didn’t notice him slip away. He hadn’t even wanted to go to the dance, but Maizie had insisted “for old time’s sake.” By the time he realized he had feelings
for Marilee, it was too late to back out.

  Outside it was a warm and balmy night. A shiny gold moon glittered against a velvet jewel box sky. He found Marilee at the rear of the dance hall gazing upward.

  The laughter of partygoers filtered through the slatted sides of the building, but not loud enough to drown out his pounding heart. Most certainly it was wrong of him to follow her. She obviously wanted to be alone, and she had made it clear—more than clear—that she wanted nothing more to do with him.

  Still, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted—needed—an explanation as to why she had suddenly turned against him. Was that too much to ask?

  He hadn’t known how much the evenings spent together had meant until they were no more.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s Sirius, the dog star,” he said. “It’s the brightest star in the sky.” When she failed to respond he continued. “Since it was so bright, the ancients thought it contributed to the heat of the day. That’s where the term ‘the dog days of summer’ originated.”

  This time she looked at him and he promptly forgot all about the night sky. Instead he wondered how her dewy lips would taste. What her hair would look like flowing down her back. How it would feel to take her in his arms and twirl her around the dance floor.

  “Where’s Maizie?” she asked.

  He leaned against the trunk of a tree and hung his thumbs from his belt.

  “Inside talking to friends.”

  “I better go back in.” She started to leave, but he stopped her with a hand to her wrist. “Wait.”

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly.

  He forced himself to speak. “About Maizie—”

  She shook her head. “Don’t try to explain.”

  “She means nothing to me.”

  “Don’t,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”

  Desperate to reach her, he tried another tactic. “Dyna arrived home all right.” It’s not what he’d wanted to say, but obviously it’s what she wanted to hear for she relaxed beneath his touch. “Tomorrow I’m taking him fishing.”