Once She Dreamed: Part One

by Abbi Glines

  “Is this a secret everyone knows or do some find out the hard way?” he asked.

  “They all know. They just pretend they don’t. God fearing Baptists and all.”

  He took another drink and I went to pour myself a cup. The clear plastic containers didn’t hold nearly enough. When I returned, yes, he was present.

  “You’re here?” I stated the obvious, but it felt like a question and so was stated as such.

  He grinned. “It would appear that way.”

  I put the cup to my lips and took a long sip. I tried to hide my smile but it was difficult. He made me feel happy. Like there was hope or excitement in my future. Like I was new, not waiting on a shelf.

  “I noticed the fliers all over town when I was in the other day to get a cupcake. Figured I might get lucky and you’d be here. And your mother, she, would not.”

  This time I laughed. I didn’t even try to hide my amusement. “My momma can be a tricky one to escape.”

  He looked thoughtful a moment then turned his head toward me. “I’m trying to figure out how you’re not already out there on some guys arm.”

  This time I smirked. “I don’t want to be.”

  “Any reason why?”

  “They’re all staying here. No one leaves. They all stay. I don’t want that.”

  “And what do you want?” he asked.

  I thought that was obvious. I wanted out of this place. But instead I said the following: “I want to know your name.”

  He chuckled and extended his hand. “Hale Christopher Jude III,” he replied. “Will you do me the honor of a dance Sammy Jo Knox?”

  He surprised me by knowing my full name. I didn’t have time to play his over in my head like I wanted to. It sounded wealthy. Like he was important.

  I slipped my hand into his and his fingers wrapped around mine with gentle strength. I liked that. It made me feel as if I was his and I realized being Hale Christopher Jude III’s didn’t sound bad at all. It sounded more like a fairytale. You don’t see the night in the light. That’s a thing I will have to remember.

  He led me to the dance floor where his hands found my waist and rested there as if he were staking his claim. I put mine on his shoulders and tilted my head, just enough to meet his eyes. He had beautiful eyes. Ones that absorbed and drew you inside them and once you were there all else seemed still and that was fine with me.

  “When do you turn nineteen?” He asked as he began to move us with the music, our bodies swaying just so that they brushed the other, like eyelashes sweeping a cheek.

  He knew my age. He knew my name. How? How did he know that? The man had barely come into town three times and only then to stop at the bakery. No one here seemed to know him. I did a quick glance around to see if anyone was watching us and realized that most everyone was. It wasn’t because they knew him. It was the exact opposite. He was a stranger. A rich stranger that currently had me in his arms, everyone knowing I wanted out of Moulton, the crowd waiting to see if I ran off tonight and never came back to this place. The silliness of such a thought. I wanted out, but I wasn’t escaping, with a man I didn’t even know.

  “How do you know my name and age?”

  His lips turned up at the edges. He gave me an innocent shrug. It didn’t seem to fit the worldly man dancing to my front. “After the first time I saw you in the bakery I made an inquiry. Does that bother you?”

  No, not exactly. But I wanted to know who was asked. I thought about probing for more, but I didn’t for some odd reason.

  “August tenth,” I told him.

  He looked thoughtful. “Do you have plans for college?”

  I wanted to laugh at that question. My mother worked at a bakery. How did he expect me to afford college? I didn’t even own a car.

  “No, I’ll work at the bakery until…” and I didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Until?” He wasn’t going to allow me to leave that hanging.

  “Until I can escape here.”

  The music changed and the song slowed. He slid a hand around to the small of my back and eased me closer to him. His body was tight against mine. I wanted to stay like this.

  “How were you planning to escape?” His voice had dropped to a low husky whisper and I shivered at the sound, a creep up my back that was pleasant and lasting, well past the words he’d spoken.

  “I don’t know,” I told him. Telling him the truth would sound bad. Letting him know that the only real plan I had at the moment was getting a man to take me from here sounded desperate. He may think I was going to sink my claws into him and use him for my escape route. The truth was, I would leave on my own if I could.

  “I think you do,” he replied.

  I looked over his shoulder to hide my expression. I wasn’t good at concealing my thoughts. My gaze landed on Jamie and Ben, now huddled closely together, talking away from the dance floor. Ben’s hand was on her left cheek, Jamie clinging to his every word. Things were going to be okay for them. Maybe this wasn’t how Jamie wanted to start her life, but she loved Ben and that was enough. For some it wasn’t enough. For me love wasn’t enough. But for those two it would be, because they shared the same dream, the same wants. The same expectations and fears.

  “I’m not calling you a liar,” he said, gently bending close to my ear. “I can see the intelligence in your eyes. You’ve thought about this for years. Possibly since you were old enough to know you wanted more. So I know you have a plan.”

  Something about him made me want to tell him everything. Even if it may send him running from me and Moulton. It wasn’t like I intended to trap him. I didn’t want to leave with just any man that came along. I glanced back at Ben and Jamie. I wanted that too. The intimacy of having someone near. Of knowing you were wanted and loved.

  “It’s not a plan exactly. It’s a dream. A hope I want to reveal.” I then turned my eyes back to his. “I want to fall in love. Not with a boy here, but with someone who wants to travel the world. Someone with more ambition than to build a house with a white picket fence and have babies till their uterus falls out.”

  That was the truth and he laughed, saying nothing in response to the statement. The song ended and a fast one began. He slipped his hand into mine and we walked off the floor. I was aware of the eyes on our faces. I felt self-conscious, but that shouldn’t be, we weren’t stealing away to go vanish.

  We both had a glass of punch and my tension eased a smidge. He asked about my job at the bakery, my sisters, and my mom. The punch made me chatty. Or it was my nerves. I wasn’t sure which one. I should’ve probably downed another.

  After I had answered all his questions he stood up and thanked me for the dance. Then he left. Nothing more. No promises of seeing him again. No kiss. No embrace. No wink. Hale Christopher Jude III simply walked away.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was all over town within a week. Everyone had seen it and if they hadn’t seen it they had witnessed the glow of pure joy on Jamie’s face when she passed. The tiny diamond wasn’t enough to sparkle, but her smile was fifty of them.

  Ben and Jamie were engaged. He had asked her on her front door step two nights ago on his knee. She said yes and promptly got in her car and hurried to my house to show me the ring he had slid on her finger. The fear from last week was gone and in its place was hope and excitement, for a future yet unlived.

  “I know this doesn’t sound appealing to you, but Sam, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m getting to live my own fairytale,” she had said, tears welling in her eyes.

  I hugged her tightly and told her she deserved this fairytale. I couldn’t think of a princess more deserving of her prince and then she bawled. I did not dread for her future, because she’d never wanted anything apart from this town and what it offered to her parents. I understood that and it was okay, my dreams being different, because we’re all unique, two people being rarely alike.

  Now they were looking at houses for rent. He had gotten a second job working with his father and
Jamie had gotten one too. That was the only way they could pay their own bills and she seemed happy going everyday. I wished she could work with me at the bakery, but they had all the employees they needed.

  Gossip about the stranger in town had spread, but thankfully that ended with the news of the engagement, which halted everyone’s predictions about me running off with the man. Momma had gotten wind of it and drilled me with questions about him. All I had was his name, his residences and his smell. Maybe it was the punch, but he had asked me all kinds of things and not once had I thought to ask him something about himself. That could have been why he left like he did. He realized I was self-absorbed and he wanted more than that in a woman. I wouldn’t blame him if that were the case. Normally, I was more inquisitive, but with him I had been so focused on answering him properly I hadn’t thought about the fact the conversation was all about me. And let’s face it. I was boring. Hale probably had to stop and get coffee to wake him up and get him home after all my talking. Sighing, I picked up the bucket of corn that I had just shucked and headed for the house. Momma had the other girls inside making fried pies that she sold at the church auction last Sunday. People would start picking up their fresh pies this afternoon.

  It was a fundraiser for the church. I figured momma should sell the fried pies herself and make her own money, but she frowned when I mentioned it, like I had just said a curse word. Henry was inside on a chair watching the others closely as they worked at the kitchen table and the counter tops.

  “Get that corn put away, then help clean up in here. There’s flour all over the place. We don’t need it looking this messy when folks come to pick up their pies. I need you to take Mrs. Winters and Harriet and old man Garth their pies. They do good to make it to the church house on Sunday, God bless their shut in souls.”

  I grabbed the broom and started sweeping after putting the corn in the pantry. The church auction happened about three to four times a year depending on how much money they needed if the tithing were insufficient. Folks may have a hard time putting their money in an offering plate the way the Bible tells them to, but they sure didn’t have a hard time buying momma’s friend pies with it. Or the other baked goods that were auctioned off. They liked getting something for their money other than a promise of blessings. That, they could not eat. For this momma would slap my face.

  Momma always said this wouldn’t be needed if they’d all just read their Bibles and follow the rules as written. I figured if the Bible was full of rules then no wonder they didn’t want to read it. I liked the stories in it, especially the romantic ones, though often weirdly violent. I wasn’t much of a fan of the rules though.

  “Give me a bite pwease?” Henry begged as he watched them spoon the blueberry and sugar mixture into the kneaded dough.

  “Don’t you start that Henry. Those aren’t for us. Go get a rag and help Sammy Jo clean the counter tops.”

  I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. Henry should get at least one little pie. He didn’t understand all this giving to the Lord stuff. He was a baby. If momma didn’t have them so damndably accounted, I would sneak him a big pie later. But she’d know it was missing and I’d end up confessing and have to listen to he rant.

  “You seen that rich man again since the barn dance?” Bessy asked, flashing a mischievous smile over her lowered shoulder. She knew bringing that up in front of momma would only cause me grief.

  “I wish I could have seen him,” Hazel added wistfully.

  Milly loosed a sigh then rolled her eyes. “He wasn’t a big deal. People talk too much. I doubt he was even wealthy. Just because he was dressed up don’t make him rich.” The annoyance in her voice was hard to miss.

  “You’re just jealous he didn’t dance with you,” Bessy said.

  “So he could run off and leave me alone at the dance for the whole town to see? No thank you. I was happy with my date who took me home and walked me to my door.”

  This wasn’t a competition. But to Milly most things were. I ignored it and finished my chores.

  “Everyone knows Sammy Jo is the prettiest girl in town. He’ll be back,” Bessy declared.

  I didn’t look to see Milly’s reaction. She hated it when our appearances were mentioned. I thought Milly was pretty. I wasn’t anything special. We had a lot of the same features. But no one had ever acted as if they needed to protect Milly from the world of men. Me, on the other hand, momma had been different with. Like I required special protection.

  “That’s enough,” Momma said, stopping the conversation before it got worse. “We’ve got pies to make and work to do. No talking about boys and dating. That’s nonsense unless you got a ring on your finger.”

  “Like Jamie does,” Hazel chimed in with excitement.

  Momma nodded. “Yes, like Jamie.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jamie was making wedding plans and Ben had stopped glaring at me in the way that made me nervous. He was marrying Jamie and respected that. I even saw affection in his gaze when he looked at her. It made things easier and more difficult for us all at the same time. I had suddenly become the third wheel or at least I felt that way. Our easy friendship was no longer. Jamie was my best friend and Ben was now her fiancé.

  My world here was changing and it was time. It was time it changed for all of us. The idea of my best friends having a baby was exciting. Seeing them go from the kids we were to parents was something they both wanted and they were happy about it. Personally, myself, I was ready for something different, for my own selfish plans to unfold. Seeing them start their life anew made me want to do the same. That just meant getting out of here. Which was a lot more difficult without the means and the means meant more money.

  This morning I had to walk to the bakery. Momma left early so I chose to walk, the exercise was good for me, and being out of doors, instead of in the bakery, would help with having to sit inside staring at the walls all day.

  Soon friends would start going off to college. Even if it wasn’t a college far away, it was still somewhere else. I wanted to do the same, that being the best of my options. But I wasn’t scholarship material and momma couldn’t afford tuition or board or even qualify for the basic loans. She also needed my help at the bakery and I just couldn’t leave her twisting.

  A car slowed down beside me. I turned my head to see a black Mercedes, a sedan all slick and gleaming. The passenger’s window lowered automatically and there was Hale Christopher Jude III as present as the clouds in the sky.

  “Good morning,” he said, with that smile that was almost too perfect.

  “Morning,” I replied, smiling also. Apparently he hadn’t been bored enough to stay away too long. “You in town for a cupcake?” I asked him.

  He gave me a small shrug. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea, but I was actually hoping to talk to you.”

  Oh. “Okay,” I said, slowing to a stop as he did.

  “Want to get in?” I was taught not to get into a car with strangers. But this wasn’t a stranger. Sure, I knew very little about him, but I did know enough I guess. Or at least I thought I did. Opening the door I climbed inside wondering if anyone was watching. The idea of my mother standing outside the bakery ready to scold me in front of Hale made me anxious. But this was definitely worth it. The smell that met me was his cologne and the luxurious smell of new car. I inhaled twice rather deeply.

  “Did you enjoy the rest of the evening at the dance?”

  I didn’t stay after he left, but I wasn’t sure I should tell him that. It made me sound pathetic. “The punch made everything enjoyable,” I joked and he chuckled in response: “yeah, I guess that would help. However, the little I was there, I enjoyed it completely sober.”

  I felt my cheeks warm and blush. “It sure was a surprise you being there,” I said, expertly ducking my head so my cheeks weren’t on display.

  “Really? I would have thought my interest was obvious. Do you think I actually come into town so often for cupcakes? Surely you’ve rea
lized my visits are about you.”

  This was my Cinderella moment. I wanted to take a photo, or better yet video this. Have it as a memory so when it was over I could remember it actually happened. I needed to respond appropriately. He was polished and refined and worldly. I didn’t need to remind him I wasn’t by saying stupid things. I liked him coming around and I’d deal with momma in time.

  “Honestly, I thought you came through here on your way to work and liked the coffee and cupcakes.”

  He laughed. I hoped that was a good laugh. One that meant he was really amused and not making me feel better about my true, but goofy response.

  “That’s what I like about you. You’re so innocent and sweet. Women who are generally as beautiful as you are never either of those. At least not in my experience.”

  I wasn’t beautiful like the women in his world. They had money to make them even more beautiful. But as he measured me next to them it made me smile, feel special and adore him.

  “Can I take you to dinner? I enjoyed the dance immensely. But I’d like to spend some time with you, so we can talk and get to know each other, without the loud music and sets of eyes staring directly at us.”

  Momma wasn’t going to like this. I would handle that. If I had to lie about where I was going I would do that in a second. This was a great opportunity. I didn’t want to miss this. Hale could be my future.

  “I would love to,” I told him, trying not to smile too brightly, appearing psychotic and then scaring him away, leaving me, again, in Moulton.

  “Tonight? Seven?”

  I wasn’t sure how to pull this off. “Yes. Seven sounds good.” I would have all day to scheme, to figure out how to handle momma.

  He pulled up to the bakery and parked the car. “I’ll pick you up here? Or at home?”

  Good question. If I had to lie to momma, then him coming to my house was potentially disastrous. But if he picked me up here someone could see us and tell her within a minute.

  Letting him sit to wait on my response wasn’t helping matters in the least. I needed to make a decision. “My house,” I blurted, reaching into my purse, bringing out a receipt and pen. I had to give him directions. He had a fancy GPS, but my home was on a dirt road and I was sure it wouldn’t assist him. “Here, I wrote my address on the side, but I seriously doubt a GPS can track poverty into a holler. Sorry, I meant a hollow.”