“Look at you, poor thing,” Miss Lorinda rubbed her enormous pet behind the ears. “Your back’s all scratched up. We need to get you some medicine.”
Agatha shaded her eyes and looked up towards the porch. “You two young ‘uns think you can handle the repairs? I brought some of my salve with me. It might work on pigs.”
“Sure, we got this. Right, Darcy?” asked Ramsey.
Darcy picked up the crowbar. “Yep.”
The fence slat was replaced with a few whacks from a hammer. Large stones from the side of the driveway served to fill the hole, and soon Darcy and Ramsey were lounging on the porch swing, drinking homemade limeade brought out by Miss Lorinda.
“Well, it’s official. My friends in California would never believe this story.” Darcy looked down at her suede boots, only worn once before, and now caked with mud and filth.
“It’s our goal to make sure you’re never bored.” Ramsey leaned back against the polished wooden swing and tipped the last sip of liquid down his throat. “I’m sure you’d rather have gone to an afternoon fashion show.”
Darcy swatted him with a home improvement magazine she’d been using as a fan. “And miss out on this epic moment? Never!”
“Sorry we didn’t make it to lunch.”
Darcy’s stomach grumbled. “Gosh, I didn’t realize how hungry I am until now. Maybe we should go find an early supper.”
“Sounds good.” Ramsey rose to his feet. “What do you say? Take my truck and go to the drive-in burger place? I feel like I’m a bit too messy to eat inside, even for Wimber. Or we could take our separate cars, go home to get cleaned up and meet later.”
Darcy shook her head. “I’m too hungry to wait that long. If you can handle stinky, muddy me, then let’s go get something now. We can come back for my car.”
“Didn’t you know?” Ramsey held out his hands. “That’s the great thing about pigs. They make everyone smell the same.”
Darcy wrinkled her nose. “Sure, just great.”
After saying goodbye to Agatha and Miss Lorinda, Darcy followed Ramsey to his pick-up and climbed in when he opened the door for her. Despite cleaning her boots on the grass, she still left light muddy prints on the dark gray floor mat.
Ramsey hopped in and turned the key in the ignition. Fireflies by Owl City blared through the speakers.
Darcy hugged her bag to her chest. “I love this song. I always imagined millions of fireflies dancing in my room.”
“Yeah, me too. We made it happen, remember?” Ramsey smiled as he steered the truck over the bumps and around potholes.
“Maybe not a million, but we had at least twenty.” Darcy laughed. “Your mother was not pleased.”
“I’ll never forget the way your eyes shone that night.” Ramsey glanced over and his brow furrowed. “That’s when—that’s when I knew.”
“You knew what?” Darcy’s palms grew sweaty over the leather bag and she placed it on the floorboard.
“I knew—well—you know. Us. We were meant to be.”
A dozen replies buzzed up against Darcy’s lips, like the fireflies in the song, but she kept them inside, glowing and secret, stored up for another afternoon.
20 END OF THE DAY
D arcy adjusted a large frame at the end of the wall and stepped back. The row of black and white pictures with ebony frames took up most of the back section of the store, with special lighting to highlight the details. These photos depicted workers in fields, a little girl wrapped up in her mama’s shawl; a Comanche man at a reservation.
Her mother stood a few feet behind her. Ellen. Norman was tall and slender, dressed in a black wrap dress cinched tight at the waist. Despite the warm May morning, a brocade shrug hung loosely from her shoulders.
Mrs. Norman ran her palm along the smooth glass of the long display case Otis had built with careful hands. “This is quite a nice collection. I’m happy the money from Dad’s memorabilia went to something so fitting. Mother would approve.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Mom.” Darcy’s heart fluttered down to its proper place and nestled, snug and at peace.
“I think you’re all set to open.” Ramsey came over. His shirt had bits of grass stuck to it and sweat streaked down his face. “I’m finished with the lawn. I’m going to run home and get a shower.”
Darcy tilted her head back for a quick kiss. “Thank you for mowing. See you in a few minutes.”
Her mother looked after him as he went out the door. “He seems like a nice guy. Darcy.”
“He is.” Darcy glanced at her phone. “Looks like the mayor and the newspaper reporters will be here soon. Thank you so much for coming down and helping me out, Mom. Your photographer’s eye really made a difference.”
Her mother stepped back and surveyed the display once more. “It was nice meeting your friends here. Agatha has wonderful work, and Ms. Travelsham did a great job with the research.” She glanced over at Darcy. “Small town life has never been for me, and I didn’t understand why you’d want to come here. Your father and I gave you opportunities far beyond what Wimber offers. But coming back this week—it makes sense.”
“I wish Dad would understand.” Darcy stared at the floor.
“Oh, your father has his own issues.” Her mother waved her hand. “He’ll come around in time for the wedding. Don’t worry about that.”
“Mom! There isn’t a wedding!”
Her mom raised a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Yet.”
Kayla came in from the back porch. “I have your tray and those cookies you ordered. Had to go around, too many people to wade through the other way. Want me to set everything up?”
“That would be great. Thanks.” Darcy looked outside and gasped. “Mom, there’re so many people outside!”
Her mother came to join her. “I think the entire county is on your porch. I hope it doesn’t crash down.”
“Don’t worry, the health inspector said everything, including the secret passage, was completely safe.” Darcy peered out the window again. “But maybe we should have some kind of weight limit sign for the porch.”
###
Ms. Travelsham examined a yellowed page under the Tiffany lamp that graced the rolltop desk in the Main Street ladies’ meeting room. After dabbing glue on the inside spine of a leathered cover, she placed the page back in place. “Toddlers,” she muttered. “Why can’t they grab for the dollar paperbacks? Nope. They always wreak havoc in the rare books section.” She looked up. “I’m sorry, there for a moment I lost sense of where I was. What were you ladies talking about?”
“Opening day for the exhibit at Darcy’s shop.” Miss Lorinda picked a skein of yarn from a basket and wound it into a ball with quick, expert movements. “Most of the town was there, except for you and Vera Greer.”
“Don’t fuss at me, Lorinda!” Ms. Travelsham gave Darcy an apologetic smile. “I wanted to come, but I told you. My sister had gallbladder surgery. Everyone in the family expected me to be at the hospital. I don’t know what for. We all just sat there and yammered on about the cat that ran through the church during Uncle Phil’s funeral last year. My sister did fine. She was in and out in three hours and asking for brisket from the barbecue place on the way home.” Ms. Travelsham selected another page from the pile in front of her and nodded at Darcy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it
.”
Darcy picked at a multicolored tangle of stitches that covered the cloth of her first embroidery experiment. “You’ve seen everything in the exhibit anyway. I think the event went well, wouldn’t you all say?” She glanced around at June, Miss Lorinda, Agatha and Kayla.
“I think so,” said Kayla. “That reporter from Texas Town magazine came in all the way from Austin.”
“Really? That’s wonderful, Darcy!” Ms. Travelsham clasped her hands in front of her, sending pages fluttering around her feet. “Is he going to write a story?”
“He sure is.” Agatha’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “He took lots of pictures and in
terviewed some of the guests . . . said it was a major find for Texan and African-American history.”
“He was impressed by your research, Ms. Travelsham.” Darcy blotted a lace paper napkin against a finger she’d just pricked—the second time today. “It’s a good thing Wimber had all those archives. So many amazing stories! I never would have guessed the history of this quiet little town.”
Lila came in the door and slammed it, glasses sliding down her nose. “Ladies, you will never guess what I overheard.”
“Before you tell us anything, you’d better get something to drink.” Miss Lorinda held up a bottled water. “Your face is red as a crawdaddy.”
“Thanks.” Lila sat down and took a drink of the water. “I ran all the way over here.” She took another gulp. “Okay, let me tell you what happened. I was in the grocery store, in the coffee section, when I heard a familiar voice. Vera Greer was over on the next aisle. And don’t scold me for eavesdropping, Ms. Travelsham. She was yelling so loudly into the phone you could’ve heard her in the next county. Kept saying she’d lost the store.” She gestured to Darcy. “I’d repeat what she said, but Agatha doesn’t approve of that kind of language.”
“Strips a conversation of intelligence,” Agatha sniffed.
“I wouldn’t have taken any amount of money for the place,” said Darcy. “And the health inspector looked through the closet and secret passage and said there was nothing wrong. But goodness, she must be upset after trying so hard to sink her claws into my shop. I wonder why she wanted it so much?”
“I think I can enlighten you.” Lila spread her hands out in front of her. “You should have seen me, leaning into the Colombian Blend. She was talking about the building components. Apparently, she had planned to tear the house down and sell it piece by piece to the highest bidder. She said the bannister alone was worth thousands . . . and something about the crown molding.”
Darcy sank back in the cushioned window seat. “We’ve had people after that bannister for years, but I never thought someone would want to buy the store to piece it out.” She shuddered. “It would have broken my heart if she’d done that. I’m so glad I didn’t fall for her scheme.”
Miss Lorinda patted her hand. “No reason to worry about it anymore, dear. No one can touch a splinter of the place without forms signed in triplicate from the Texas Historical Society.”
“Thank God. I mean, it had to be Him, right?” Darcy took a scone from a china plate and allowed the crumbling sweetness to roll around on her tongue.
“Of course, it was,” said Agatha. “God works everything according to His purpose. And He obviously has plans for you in Wimber—and for your shop.”
“The publicity from the paper and magazine should help bring in lots of customers,” said June, who was sewing sequins on a veil.
“I hope so,” said Darcy. “I’ve asked Mrs. Johnson to work for me three days a week, and she’s agreed. She can make her felt animals at the counter, and I can keep cleaning out the sheds. After my last discovery, I’m pretty excited about what I might find next.”
Miss Lorinda tipped her head to the side. “You never know what can happen in this town.”
###
Spring breezes tugged at Darcy’s curls and played with the Texas and US flags that hung from various awnings and street fronts down the street.
It was the perfect Thursday evening, and a peace wafted in her soul that she hadn’t felt since long before she left California. Thank you, God, for bringing me here. Thank you for letting me keep Gran’s shop, and for being able to bring the history to the light.
Ramsey waited for her outside of the shop. He pulled her close and kissed her. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispered in her ear.
“I hope it’s a nice one. I’ve had quite a few good things happen lately and I’d hate to break the streak,” Darcy said.
“I’ll be right back.” Ramsey disappeared around the shop and came back, wheeling out--was that her bike? It had been restored to its original bright blue, and the silver parts polished until they sparkled. A wooden box had been attached to the back with a thick elastic cord. A small basket and a bottle of wine peeped out.
“Want to go on a picnic?” Ramsey asked. “I brought my old bike too. Though mine took a bit more effort to get in working order. I found it behind my mom’s barn.”
“Ramsey—this is perfect.” Darcy clasped her hands together. Thank you so much.”
She hugged him, reveling in his touch, his scent, his Ramsey self. “You’ve helped me find myself again, Ramsey Johnson.”
Ramsey smiled. “Darcy, you never really changed. God brought you to a place where you could see more clearly, that’s all.”
He pulled a nineties-style dirt bike that looked entirely too small for his tall frame from the side of the house. “You ready for our outing?”
Darcy looked down at her heels. “I’d better change my shoes first.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Angela Castillo has lived in Bastrop, Texas, the inspiration for Wimber , almost her entire life. She studied Practical Theology
at Christ for the Nations in Dallas. She lives in Bastrop with her husband and three children. Angela has written several short
stories and books, including the Toby the Trilby series for kids.
to find out more about her writing, go to http://angelacastillowrites.weebly.com
Sign up for Angela Castillo’s monthly newsletter and receive a free copy of her short story collection, Hidden Pictures.
http://eepurl.com/bLyYxb
Excerpt From
The River Girl’s Song
Texas Women of Spirit
Book 1, Available on Amazon in paperback, Kindle and audio.
http://www.amazon.com/The-River-Girls-Song-Spirit-ebook/dp/B00X32KBL0/ref=pd_rhf_gw_p_img_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=18DCQ0M4FSR2VYKTRJ15
1
Scarlet Sunset
We need to sharpen these knives again.” Zillia examined her potato in the light from the window. Peeling took so long with a dull blade, and Mama had been extra fond of mash this month.
Mama poured cream up to the churn’s fill line and slid the top over the dasher. “Yes, so many things to do! And we’ll be even busier in a few weeks.” She began to churn the butter, her arms stretched out to avoid her swollen belly. “Don’t fret. Everything will settle into place.”
“Tell that to Jeb when he comes in, hollering for his dinner,” muttered Zillia. The potato turned into tiny bits beneath her knife.
“Don’t be disrespectful.” Though Mama spoke sharply, her mouth quirked up into a smile. She leaned over to examine Zillia’s work. “Watch your fingers.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Zillia scooped the potato bits into the kettle and pulled another one out of the bag. Her long, slender fingers already bore several scars reaped by impatience.
“Ooh, someone’s kicking pretty hard today.” Mama rubbed her stomach.
Zillia looked away. When Papa was alive, she would have given anything for a little brother or sister. In the good times, the farm had prospered and she chose new shoes from a catalogue every year. Ice was delivered in the summer and firewood came in two loads at the beginning of winter. Back then, Mama could have hired a maid to help out when the little one came.
She and Mama spent most of their time working together, and they discussed everything. But she didn’t dare talk about those days. Mama always cried.
“I might need you to finish this.” Mama stopped for a moment and wiped her face with her muslin apron. “I’m feeling a little dizzy.”
“Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you some tea?” Zillia put down her knife and went to wash her hands in the basin.
Water, streaked with red, gushed from beneath Mama’s petticoats. She gasped, stepped back and stared at the growing puddle on the floor. “Oh dear. I’m guessing it’s time.”
“Are you sure? Dr. Madison said you had weeks to go.” Zillia had helped with plenty of birth
s on the farm, but only for animals. From what she’d gathered, human babies brought far more fuss and trouble. She shook the water off her hands and went to her mother’s side.
Mama sagged against Zillia’s shoulder, almost throwing her off balance. She moaned and trembled. The wide eyes staring into Zillia’s did not seem like they could belong to the prim, calm woman who wore a lace collar at all times, even while milking the goats.
Zillia steadied herself with one hand on the kitchen table. “We need to get you to a comfortable place. Does it hurt terribly?”
Mama’s face relaxed and she stood a little straighter. “Sixteen years have passed since I went through this with you, but I remember.” She wiped her eyes. “We have a while to go, don’t be frightened. Just go tell your stepfather to fetch the doctor.”
Zillia frowned, the way she always did when anyone referred to the man her mother married as her stepfather. Jeb had not been her choice, and was no kin to her. “Let me help you into bed first.”
They moved in slow, shaky steps through the kitchen and into Mama’s bedroom. Zillia hoped Mama couldn’t feel her frenzied heartbeat. I have no right to be afraid; it’s not me who has to bring an entire baby into this world.
Red stains crept up the calico hem of Mama’s skirts as they dragged on the floor.
A sourness rose in the back of Zillia’s throat. This can’t be right. “Is it supposed to be such a mess?”
“Oh yes.” Mama gave a weak chuckle. “And much more to come. Wait until you meet the new little one. It’s always worth the trouble.”
Mama grasped her arm when they reached the large bed, covered in a cheery blue and white quilt. “Before you go, help me get this dress off. Please?”
Zillia’s hands shook so much she could hardly unfasten the buttons. It seemed like hours before she was able to get all forty undone, from Mama’s lower back to the nape of her neck. She peeled the dress off the quivering shoulders, undoing the stays and laces until only the thin lace slip was left.
Tangled in Time, (Miss Main Street Book 1) Page 15