by Diane Darcy
Melissa shook her head.
“No? Then your purchases will come to twenty-six dollars. And I’ll throw in a couple of sticks of candy for the kids.” He grinned.
Smiling, the kids took the candy.
“Twenty six dollars?” She looked at the material and quickly calculated. If she chose the most inexpensive fabric for shirts for the guys--and didn’t make any trousers, and Jessica could probably get by without a new dress--plus the cost of the thread and needles. She quickly recalculated. She only had enough for one dress.
Only one.
And of course, no money left over. No savings.
Intense disappointed beat at her. She needed new clothes.
She looked at their purchases, piled on the counter. Should she put something back? But what? She looked at the slingshot. At Jeremy’s boots.
She sighed. One dress would have to be enough.
She turned to Mr. Harvey. “I just need a few more things. And a little material.”
She met Richard’s gaze.
He looked sympathetic, and that’s what nearly did her in. She willed back tears, shrugged and turned to choose, trying to ignore the fact that when they walked out of the store they’d be penniless again.
Chapter Twenty
“Oh, goodness. Look at this one,” said Sarah. Her voice held awe as she lifted one of Melissa’s sketches for the other ladies to see. “I love the large ribbon and bow at the waist.”
Melissa’s attention slid to her neighbors, gathered around Sarah’s table, and she tried not to preen as she took in the Cowboy Wives astonished expressions.
Emma’s eyes widened. “No bustle? And the sleeves are so puffed. Oh, I wouldn’t dare wear that to the picnic.”
Amused by Emma’s ignorance, Melissa grinned. “Trust me. You’d be the most fashionable lady there.”
Amanda lifted a brow. “Or the most laughed at.”
Melissa shook her head. “I know fashion. The other women will run home and copy the gown.”
The ladies passed around Melissa’s eleven sketches and consulted the Godey’s Lady’s Book, their fashion bible, and several other pattern books that lay open on the table.
Melissa tried to tone down her smile so she wasn’t grinning like the Cheshire Cat, but it wasn’t easy. She had material! Granted, the selection at the general store hadn’t been huge, and she’d had to settle for a pastel blue cotton, not something she would normally wear, but still, excitement buzzed though her.
Sarah held up another sketch. “Oh, look at this one.”
Amanda’s face lit and she reverently took the sketch, a design with leg-o-mutton sleeves and a bell-like skirt that wouldn’t be in style for at least ten years. “It’s so beautiful.” She glanced at Melissa then back at the sketch. “You’re very talented.”
“Thanks.” Melissa tried to tone down another cat-ate-the-cream grin attempting to escape.
Emma clapped, and a squeal bubbled out. “I just can’t wait! The picnic will be such fun!”
Melissa chuckled at Emma’s Mary Poppins impression; these ladies were starting to grow on her.
A determined glint in her eye, Amanda held up the sketch.
“Will you show me how to cut this out?”
Sarah’s eyes glowed with excitement. “Amanda, would you dare?”
Amanda bit her lip. “With a bustle?”
Melissa mouth curved. “Do my chores while I’m sewing, and I’ll make it for you.”
Amanda grinned. “Deal!”
Everyone laughed.
The ladies continued to study the patterns, discussing possible variations; bustles definitely included. The cowardly chickens.
They chattered about the picnic and Melissa reached for the design she was planning to use for her own dress and studied it. Excitement swelled in her chest. Her dress would knock them all dead, would not have a bustle, and would definitely show up the town’s snooty seamstress once and for all. She relished the imagined reaction.
“Pardon me.”
Melissa glanced up.
Hannah--neat, tidy, and frumpy--stood inside the open doorway of Sarah’s cabin. “Sarah, I need to get the loaf pan you borrowed.”
Sarah didn’t get up or even look at Hannah. “It’s on the shelf beside the stove.”
The excited chatter continued unabated.
Slowly, Hannah came inside, paused beside the table, and picked up one of Melissa’s drawings. She studied it, her expression turning wistful.
A pang of sympathy hit Melissa.
She knew exactly what longing felt like. She’d lived it as a child, and lived it every day of her miserable life since landing in the nineteenth century.
Should she offer to make Hannah a dress? She really didn’t have the time. The picnic was in nine days, and she was already making one for herself, and now for Amanda too. She knew from making Jessica’s dress that the sewing machines were inferior and the work slow. Besides, no doubt the others would need some direction if they decided to try something new.
Hannah’s expression turned sad.
The pang in Melissa’s heart intensified. On the other hand, she had decided to be Hannah’s friend. She studied Hannah’s unflattering brown work-dress and tried to picture her in a stylish gown. A green...or a blue...jewel tones? No, too bright for her complection.
It would be a challenge; one Melissa was more than up to. Her enthusiasm boosted a notch.
Sewing for hours at a time wasn’t a hardship; she was used to it. Besides, surely the children and Richard could help out with the cooking and whatever else needed doing? “Hannah, pull up a chair. Do you have any material?”
Hannah looked startled, a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression clouding her face. “No. No, I don’t.” Cheeks reddening, she quickly turned away and reached for the loaf pan.
Melissa should let it drop right there. After all, she’d tried. But the widow had given Melissa some material and didn’t even like her. Certainly she’d give Hannah some. Or perhaps Hannah had some savings? After all, what did she spend her wages on? Certainly not clothes. “Well, could you get some material?”
Hannah’s gaze dropped, the pan clutched in her hands. “No. That’s not possible.”
Not possible as in she had no money? Or because the widow would refuse to give her material? Or because Hannah was unwilling to make the effort?
Melissa glanced at her own material, then at Hannah. The pastel would go well with her dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. It might even look better on Hannah than on Melissa herself.
Melissa’s mouth parted. She couldn’t believe she’d even thought that! She turned her attention to the Godey’s style book in front of her and ignored Hannah, who once again looked at the sketches in a peripheral way.
Sarah slid a sketch forward along with a pattern book. “What do you think of this for me?” she said, pointing to the pattern book. “With the sleeves and neckline you’ve drawn and with a bustle, of course.”
Gladly, Melissa turned her attention to Sarah. With her big bust, the neckline would look fabulous. “It would be exquisite on you.” Funny how easily she slipped back into fashion guru mode.
Hannah still loitered.
No one was getting Melissa’s prized material. If she was to give her material to someone it would go to Jessica, not Hannah. Just because Melissa was feeling warmly toward Hannah for sticking up for her at the church, and just because Melissa had decided to be her friend, didn’t mean she needed to give away a prized possession. Being nice was one thing. Being stupid quite another.
Hannah, apparently having seen enough, finally left without a word. Her sturdy shoulders looked a bit slumped as she walked out the door and down the steps.
She was probably just tired. No doubt the widow worked her like a dog. That was something Melissa had a lot of experience with lately.
Without consent, Hannah’s wistful expression replayed once more in Melissa’s mind, and her fists clenched in her lap. It was not her problem.
The ladies’ excited chattering was starting to give her a headache. Obviously Melissa was tired, or hungry, or both. Otherwise she wouldn’t be thinking such stupid thoughts.
She stood. “Time for me to go. I’ve got to get dinner started.”
The ladies protested, but were quickly distracted again and Melissa slipped away.
No one was getting her material.
* * *
Arms over her head, Melissa stretched, trying to work a kink out of her back. After finishing Amanda’s dress in four days, and working on the pastel blue for two, her legs needed a rest. The widow’s treadle sewing machine with its annoying pump wasn’t the finest equipment she’d ever worked with, but it was the best on the ranch, better even that Amanda’s, and it sure beat stitching by hand.
She smiled in satisfaction as she studied her workmanship. The pale blue, two-piece cotton dress was coming together quite nicely. When it was finished, the tightly-fitted dress with its fully-lined bodice would have matching lace trim at the collar, wrists and waist. The skirt was slimmed in front, but the back would balloon out over a bustle framework. She sighed. She still couldn’t believe she was making a bustle with her precious material.
Narrow at the waist, the bodice had straighter lines and larger sleeves than anything currently in fashion. It would cause quite a sensation at the picnic. Gleefully, Melissa grinned. No doubt the seamstress in town would regret not hiring her when she saw this creation.
Melissa bit her lip, wishing once more she dared forgo the bustle. Within the next three years they’d be out of style for good anyway, but she didn’t think Hannah could handle being a leader in fashion. Simply being in fashion was going to be hard enough for Hannah.
Speak of the devil.
At that moment Hannah walked in, threw a panicked glance at the half-finished gown and turned away to dust the night-stand. Again. “I didn’t ask you to make that dress, and I’m not wearing it to the picnic. I’m not even going to the picnic.”
“Yes, you are,” Melissa said. After the agony Melissa had gone through to make the decision to give her material away, Hannah was going.
“I won’t fit anyway. You didn’t even take my measurements.”
“44-30-42. A perfect 12 petite. Narrow shoulders, big bust, I’m dropping the dart an inch and making the waist shorter and the hips fuller. Piece of cake.”
Hannah gaped for a moment, then snapped her mouth shut and turned away. “I’m not going,” Hannah said as she left the room.
Melissa chuckled. “Are too!” she called after her.
Actually, there was still a part of her that couldn’t believe she was doing this. She hadn’t even told Richard or the other ladies, and they’d no doubt be horrified when Melissa showed up in one of her old dresses at the picnic.
But when she’d finally made the decision to create Hannah’s dress, she’d felt really good about it; excited even. She might be playing this friendship thing by ear, and maybe she wasn’t good at it. But outfitting Hannah and digging her out of the house and off the ranch was the best Melissa had to offer, so Hannah was going.
She started sewing again, and a short while later Mrs. MacPherson appeared in the doorway. Again. Good grief, Grand Central Station here. These two definitely needed to get out more.
“You’d better not hurt Hannah with your foolishness,” the widow said, her voice gruff.
Melissa stopped sewing to stare with widened eyes. “First Hannah, and now you? I’m not hurting her, I’m helping her. I thought you’d be on my side.”
Eyes full of worry, the widow gripped the gold locket hanging from her neck. “Hannah’s had a hard life.”
“Yes, she has, even I can tell that. But there’s more to life than hiding out. And Hannah’s strong. I think she can handle whatever comes her way,” Melissa grinned. “And if she can’t, I can, so don’t worry so much.”
The widow looked unconvinced. “Just don’t hurt her,” she said and left the room.
Talk about fear of change. These two could make a fortune on daytime television discussing panic attacks. Melissa sighed, rolled her eyes, and got back to work.
Less than a minute later, Hannah returned again, this time to wash the window. Apparently she couldn’t stay away. “I am not wearing that dress.”
Melissa fed the fabric under the needle. “Are you dissing my work?”
“Dissing?”
“Disrespecting.”
“Dissing,” Hannah said the word softly, trying it out.
Melissa smiled at Hannah’s fascination with the slang word. She racked her brain for another and found she knew plenty. “It’s not like I’m going to make you look skanky or anything. You’re really going to like this. It’s a good look for you. I promise.”
“Skanky?”
“You know, like the way a ho dresses?”
Hannah looked at her blankly. Then her mouth opened and shut, then opened again. “You mean whore?” Hannah practically whispered the word.
Melissa laughed at her astonished expression. “Exactly. I plan to deck you out, but don’t worry, I won’t let you look cheesy so you don’t need to wig out or anything.”
Hannah’s eyes narrowed and her spine straightened. “I’m not going and I’m not wearing no wig.”
Melissa laughed, easing off on the treadle, her knee weaving drunkenly as the motion slowed and came to a stop. “Come on, we’ll just go hang out at the dance. You don’t have to groove unless you want to. Just stand around and show some teeth. Who knows, maybe we’ll get you a big rock out of this.”
Hannah’s eyes were wide. “Whatever you’re saying is not tricking me into going. I’m not and that’s final.”
“Da Nile isn’t just a river in Egypt.”
Hannah stared, her eyes moving back and forth a moment, then she threw back her head and laughed, the sound rusty from disuse. Melissa looked on in bemusement. Hannah looked pretty when she laughed.
Hannah’s laughter finally faded and she wiped her eyes, and stared down at the carpet. “What you’re trying to do for me, well, I appreciate the kindness. But I can’t accept.”
Something had happened to this woman; even an imbecile would be able to tell that. Melissa hesitated, not wanting to pry, and not wanting to be deluged with emotion, but realizing that perhaps Hannah needed to talk. “Why not?”
Hannah hesitated, swallowed, met Melissa’s gaze, looked at the carpet and took a deep shuddering breath. “I don’t like to be around men. They scare me.”
Like that was news. Hannah was scared of everyone. “I’ve noticed. What’s the problem?”
“I can’t tell you. You’ll think badly of me,” she practically whispered the words.
Pity welled in Melissa’s heart. “Honey, I promise you I won’t. I’m not here to stand in judgement of you and if I find out you dance naked in the saloon on Saturday nights, I’m not going to so much as bat an eyelash. I just want to be your friend.”
Hannah looked horrified. “I don’t...I mean I’ve never danced...I used to be with a man,” she said the words in a rush. “He wasn’t my husband. I thought he would marry me. He didn’t. But he used to beat the stuffing out of me every chance he got.” She paused. “I just don’t like to be around men.” She whispered the words.
Compassion filled Melissa. She’d suspected as much and worse.
“I had a child,” Hannah continued. “A daughter. She died. I wanted to die too.”
A child. Melissa suppressed a sigh and wished someone would show up with some words of wisdom, but unfortunately, Hannah was stuck with her. “Perhaps you could meet someone new. Get married and have another child?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m thirty-four years old. Too old for such nonsense. My time has come and gone.”
And that was fine, if Hannah meant it. But she didn’t. Melissa heard the wistfulness in her voice loud and clear and suddenly knew exactly what to say.
“Hannah, you listen to me. I’m a full year older than yo
u, and no one is ever going to tell me to sit on a shelf and dry up. No one is ever going to tell me my time has come and gone and that I should stop reaching for my dreams. My dreams, your dreams, they’re who we are.”
Melissa took a deep breath and continued. “You’re still young. You could have more children. I know lots of women who bear children well into their forties. You just need to take the chance. You just need to be willing to take a chance.”
Hannah continued to look at the carpet for a long moment. Then she lifted hope-filled eyes. “Do you really think so?”
Hard pressed to keep the tears out of her eyes, Melissa nodded. “Yes. Yes, Hannah, I really do.”
Melissa could see hope and trust in Hannah’s eyes, and knew she’d won; knew she’d do whatever it took to live up to that trust...whatever it took.
A moment of self-doubt crept in. Melissa was the biggest gossip and back stabber around, and knew it. Back home, Hannah would have been a prime target with her lack of confidence and frumpy appearance and Melissa felt sudden shame engulf her. She shook it off. That was then and this was a different story. A feeling of protectiveness washed over her and she reached for Hannah’s work-roughened hand.
“Hannah, I’m your friend now.” She squeezed her fingers. “And if anyone so much as looks at you cross-eyed at the dance, or anywhere else, well, I’ll freak out and pop a cap in his butt.”
Hannah stared at her. “What?”
“I’ll scream and shoot ‘em in the behind with a bullet.”
Hannah’s mouth fell open and she quickly held her hand to her mouth, but couldn’t stop the giggles from emerging.
Melissa smiled. Maybe she was getting pretty good at this friendship stuff, after all.
* * *
Melissa waited until Sarah, Amanda, and Emma deposited their potluck contributions on the table. She knew each was hoping to win the pie-baking contest, but secretly, Melissa believed she stood a good chance of capturing the blue ribbon.
When it was her turn, Melissa stepped up to the table, unwrapped the towel from around a peach pie and held it out to the reverend’s wife. “Where would you like me to set this?”