Tabitha_Bride of Missouri

by Amelia C. Adams

  She watched him stride down the road, then turned back to her task. The next thing she pulled out was a curious bundle of letters tied together with twine, words written across the top in bold, slashing letters. Return to sender. No longer interested. Cease communications immediately. Her heart gave a stutter when she saw that these letters had been sent to Miss Ivy Wayne of Dover, Delaware . . . by Thomas Scott.

  Oh, no. Ivy had decided to call off their engagement. Thomas would be devastated. Tears pricked Tabitha’s eyes again, but for an entirely different reason—she didn’t want him to be hurt. Just from this very short time she’d known him, she knew how deeply he felt about things—not just Ivy, but life in general—and how much of his heart he gave away. With his injury and his job on the line, surely this kind of news would be too much.

  Tabitha tucked the bundle away in a drawer while she sorted the rest of the mail, her mind churning. Why had Ivy changed her mind? Was he writing her too frequently and making her feel smothered? Had the girl found another husband? Not one bit of it was any of Tabitha’s business, and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about it and wondering.

  Her next customer of the day was Freddie Sanders, one of the young men who had come to call on her before she moved away. If she remembered correctly, he was the one who couldn’t understand why she liked to read, and thought she should be content to cook and sew.

  “Hello, Miss Phillips,” he said, pulling his hat off his head as he approached the counter. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Hello, Mr. Sanders. What can I do for you today?”

  “I’d like to mail these two letters.” He placed them on the counter. “And . . . I wondered if you had an escort to the fall festival tomorrow.”

  Tabitha smiled. For the first time, she was grateful the pastor had asked her. “I’m sorry, but I do have an escort. Pastor Reed asked me.”

  “Ah. Well, I can’t compete with a pastor.” He bobbed his head. “Congratulations.”

  “Congratulations? Whatever for?”

  “Well, if the pastor has his eye on you, doesn’t that mean wedding bells are in the offing?”

  Tabitha tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a cough. “I’m going to the fall festival with him, not marrying him! I hardly know the man.”

  Freddie seemed a little taken aback by her reaction. “Oh. Well, I just thought—”

  “You can stop thinking right now! If accepting an escort is the same thing as accepting an offer of marriage, no one ever explained that to me, and I don’t agree with it.” She held out her hand. “Money for the postage, please?”

  He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a few coins, which he dumped into her palm. “Have a good day, Miss Phillips.”

  “And you.” Her tone was curt.

  Once he was gone, Tabitha let out a sigh of indignation. Gracious. First Clara, and now Freddie, both of them thinking there was something going on between her and the pastor. What if Pastor Reed thought so too? What if she’d given him the wrong impression when she accepted? Her stomach clenched. Oh, no. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. If he thought she’d agreed to a courtship, if he was making plans for their future together, this would be very bad indeed. She had to speak with him and set it right.

  But it was already midmorning on Friday, and the festival was the very next day. If she spoke with him after the post office closed, that would only give him a few hours to find another girl to escort, and that would be embarrassing for him if he was expected to bring someone. She should probably go with him, but explain her position as early in the outing as she could.

  ***

  Midafternoon, Clara returned, heading straight for the kitchen as soon as she entered the building. Tabitha heard the clanking of a pot on the stove and guessed that her cousin was putting on some tea. She stood in the doorway that connected the post office to the house and watched as Clara pulled down some teacups from the shelf.

  “How was your day?” she asked, thinking she could probably guess the answer from the stiff way Clara held her shoulders.

  “Nothing. Doesn’t seem to be a job anywhere.”

  Tabitha’s thoughts flew to Mr. Scott. What would he do for money, then?

  Clara spun on her toes and grabbed a tin from another shelf. “Don’t know what we’re going to do. Have to think on it some more, I guess.”

  “Are you sure it’s all right that I’m here? I know the timing could have been better, and you weren’t expecting me to come home—”

  Clara fixed her with a look. “I’m not in the habit of turning people out onto the street.” That was all she said, and Tabitha knew better than to continue to press the issue. She just wished for another way to help.

  Herbert shuffled into the room a moment later, the first time Tabitha had seen him all day. He seemed much as he had the night before, the dark circles still making him look gaunt. Tabitha hadn’t heard a single voice during the night and figured that the couple must be giving each other the silent treatment. This theory was proven correct when Clara set a cup of tea in front of him without speaking so much as one word, and he didn’t respond with any kind of thanks.

  Tabitha took her cup back into the post office with her and thought about Mr. Scott’s bundle while she sipped. And thought about the pastor. And worried about her cousin. She could fix the situation with the pastor—or at least, correct the misunderstanding. As far as Mr. Scott and Herbert and Clara went, she had no ideas at all, and that was very frustrating indeed.

  Chapter Six

  Tabitha studied her reflection in the mirror one more time. She hadn’t purchased a new party dress in a long time, and she hoped her white one still looked fresh. The weather had been somewhat warmer all morning—maybe that would extend into the evening. She grabbed her heavy shawl just in case.

  Pastor Reed knocked on the front door at exactly one o’clock. Tabitha liked punctuality, but that sort of precision irritated her for some reason. She was probably just dreading the conversation she’d need to have with him.

  “Ah, Miss Phillips,” he said when he saw her. “You look lovely.” He held out a small bunch of marigolds. “Are you ready?”

  “I am.” Tabitha paused a moment to tuck the marigolds into a cup of water, then gathered up her skirts and followed him outside. Clara and Herbert had already left—Clara needed to be there a few minutes early to enter her pecan pie in the contest.

  When they reached the sidewalk, Pastor Reed held out his elbow, and Tabitha hesitated. Taking his arm would only confuse the matter further, as it implied that she was consenting to be seen as a couple. It was best to discuss this now.

  “Pastor,” she began, resting her hand on the fence that surrounded the property, “may I speak with you for a moment before we go?”

  “Of course. What’s troubling you?”

  Oh, this was awkward. Why wasn’t there an easier way to say this? “It would seem that there’s been some speculation on the parts of some about things that aren’t necessarily true, but that some people might want to be true.” That hadn’t come out right at all.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  Tabitha took a deep breath. Since there wasn’t a way to lead up to the topic slowly and still make sense, she’d just jump right in, however it might sound. “Apparently, the fact that we’re going to the festival together has made some people think that we’re planning a courtship.”

  “Yes, I can see how it might leave that impression.” He paused. “How would you feel about that?”

  “About . . . about the impression?” Tabitha suddenly couldn’t think straight.

  “No, about a courtship. Would you be favorable?”

  She’d hoped that he would know what she was trying to say without her having to be so blunt, but it looked like she’d have to be blunt with him all day long if she ever wanted to be understood. “I’m honored that you would even consider me, but I’m not thinking about courtship right now. I’ve only ju
st arrived in town, and we scarcely know each other . . .”

  “We’ll come to know each other. I believe today will be the first of many.”

  She pretended he hadn’t spoken. “And I’m not ready to be married. Thank you for your kind attentions, but I fear we can only be friends.”

  “Friends?” He acted as though he wasn’t quite sure what that word meant. “Are you saying that you’re not interested in getting to know me at all?”

  “I’d very much like to get to know you—as a friend,” Tabitha restated. “But on a romantic level, my feelings are elsewhere.” She could be honest enough with herself, and him, to admit this. Thomas certainly had been taking up a large portion of her thoughts, and while she didn’t imagine anything could ever come of it, that didn’t stop her from daydreaming.

  The pastor looked displeased, but when he spoke, his voice was cordial. “I’m quite sorry to hear that, but it shouldn’t keep us from enjoying the festival. May I still escort you—as a friend?”

  “You may indeed.”

  He asked her polite questions as they walked to the town square, and after a few uncomfortable moments, they seemed to break past most of the awkwardness. They reached the center of the festivities just as the mayor climbed up on the bandstand and waved his hands to get everyone’s attention.

  “Welcome, everyone, to Atwater’s first-ever fall festival. Our goal this year is to raise enough money to replace the roof on the school. And who knows—if we all have a good time, we might make this a yearly event. Not that the school will need a new roof every year, but to have fun, and . . . er . . . well, let’s get started, shall we?”

  The crowd cheered until he held up his hands again. “First of all, I’d like to hear the nominations for this year’s Miss Atwater. Not that we’ve ever had one in the past, this being the first year and all, and maybe the only year, but yes, we need some nominations. Who will it be?”

  “Darcy Hamilton!” a man called from the back.

  “I second that nomination!” called another.

  Tabitha wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised. Darcy was a very pretty girl, even if her personality was anything but pretty.

  A few other names were called out, and then Mrs. Smith pushed her way to the front. “I nominate Tabitha Phillips, and if she doesn’t win, the judges should all be horsewhipped!”

  This brought a chuckle from the audience, and Tabitha ducked her head to hide her flaming cheeks. She hoped no one would think she’d put Mrs. Smith up to it.

  “I second the nomination,” Pastor Reed said, his voice full of good humor.

  “I don’t know about this,” Tabitha whispered to him. “It seems so . . . silly.”

  “It’s just a fun little contest to promote town unity,” he replied. “If there were something wrong with it, I wouldn’t be supporting it, would I?”

  “No, you wouldn’t. It just feels like I’m being put on display, like Clara’s pie.”

  The pastor’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t think of it that way. If you’d like me to see about withdrawing your nomination—”

  “Oh, gracious no,” Tabitha said. “Let’s not worry about it. Darcy’s so pretty, I’m sure she’ll win, and then all my objections will be dealt with naturally. Thank you for asking, though.”

  Their attention was called back to the front, where the mayor was outlining the day’s events. A potluck dinner would be held at five, followed by dancing, and contests would be judged all afternoon.

  “I hope the weather holds,” the pastor said, looking up at the sky.

  “I do too. Shall we go look at the exhibits?”

  Tabitha had to admit to herself that as she and Pastor Reed walked up and down between rows of quilts, pies, bread, and needlework, she was also keeping an eye out for Mr. Scott. She didn’t feel ready to tell him about the packet of letters—one difficult conversation a day was her limit—but she did want to see him. She was curious about how he was feeling, and if he’d found work, and . . . she wanted to see his smile.

  Pastor Reed said something about the handiwork display, and she forced her thoughts to stop wandering. She was still the pastor’s guest, even though this wasn’t a romantic outing, and she could at least show him some courtesy.

  Tabitha was thrilled when Clara took first place for her pie, and clapped loudly as the blue ribbon was handed over. Clara took the stage reluctantly, but Tabitha could tell from the look on her cousin’s face that she was proud of herself for winning.

  “Miss Phillips! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.”

  She turned and saw Mr. Scott at her elbow. “Hello. Mr. Scott, have you met Pastor Reed?”

  The two men shook hands.

  “I don’t believe I’ve seen you in our congregation as of yet, Mr. Scott,” Pastor Reed said. “Are you a religious man?”

  “I am. I just haven’t affiliated myself with any particular group since coming here,” Mr. Scott replied.

  “You’re officially invited to attend with us tomorrow, then,” Pastor Reed said. “It will be Miss Phillips’ first Sunday as well. I’d be delighted to have two new members on the same day.”

  “Then I’ll come. It will be nice to see a familiar face there.” Mr. Scott gave Tabitha a little nod.

  Her heart leaped, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. He hadn’t meant anything by it—he was just being friendly.

  The pastor didn’t seem to notice her discomfiture at all. “I’ll look forward to it. Shall we, Miss Phillips?”

  She returned Mr. Scott’s nod as she moved away with the pastor, wishing she could stay right where she was.

  At four thirty, everyone gathered back around the bandstand for the Miss Atwater contest. Tabitha had tried to forget about it all afternoon, but now, she had no choice but to smile and pretend to be glad that she’d been chosen to compete.

  “Would all the nominees please come to the stage?” the mayor called out, and Tabitha worked her way to the front. After climbing the steps, she found herself standing right next to Darcy rather than one of the other girls.

  “I must say, I’m rather surprised to see you up here,” Darcy said, her sweet smile never leaving her face. “I thought this was a contest for the residents of Atwater, not for those who can’t make up their minds whether they live here or not.”

  “I’m just as surprised as you are, actually,” Tabitha replied. “I never wanted the nomination.”

  “Oh? Well, Frank Giles told me that he saw you on your very first day here and told you about it. I can’t believe that it didn’t at least cross your mind.”

  Tabitha never got the chance to retort, as the mayor had resumed speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, up here you see before you a fine assortment of beautiful young women from our fair town. They’ll each take a moment to tell you why they believe they should be Miss Atwater, and then our panel of judges will decide the winner. She will be chosen based on her grace, her beauty, and the quality of her answer.”

  The crowd clapped until the mayor waved them down. “Our judges are three of the town’s most important citizens. First is Pastor Reed.”

  Tabitha bit back an exclamation of surprise. She’d had no idea he was judging.

  “Next is Dr. Gideon, and third is Mrs. Pritchett, who, as you know, is the schoolmistress. Now, young ladies, let’s start down here on this end. Please step forward one at a time and state your name, age, and why you’d like to be Miss Atwater.”

  Tabitha was relieved that they were starting on the other end. That would give her a moment to decide what to say.

  “Now are you going to tell me you aren’t trying to win?” Darcy hissed. “You came here on the arm of one of the judges, after all.”

  “I was not on his arm! I purposely avoided that,” Tabitha hissed back. “I had no idea he was a judge. Why does this contest mean so much to you, anyway? Is there a prize or something?”

  “Yes, there’s a prize, but that’s not why I’m angry. I don’t like interlopers.”
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  “Interlopers? That’s what you think I am?” Tabitha glanced over to see that it was nearly her turn. “I’ve lived here for eight years of my life,” she whispered. “I’m sorry if that doesn’t qualify me for citizenship in your eyes.”

  Then she turned and stepped to the edge of the stage, as the other girls had done. “Hello. My name is Tabitha Phillips, I’m twenty years old, and I work at the post office. Clara and Herbert Wilcox are my cousin and her husband. I would like to be Miss Atwater because . . .” She looked down at the audience. Some of these people had watched her grow up. Others were new to her. What could she say to them? “To be honest, I’m not sure that I’m your best representative. I’m not as pretty as Darcy, or as talented as Hannah, or as sweet as Alice.” She nodded at the other contestants in turn.

  “I’m not even sure how I feel about this whole contest. I’ve only lived in Atwater for eight years of my life, and some might feel that I’m not truly a citizen of this town.” She kept her eyes straight ahead that time, even though she badly wanted to turn and glare at Darcy. “I’ve wondered that myself, feeling as though I don’t truly fit in at times.” She glanced down at the pastor and caught his faint smile. She couldn’t see Mr. Scott anywhere. “But there’s one thing I’ve learned. Home is wherever I make it, whether I’m here or somewhere else. And I believe Atwater is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. The budding trees in the spring, the clear blue skies, the chirp and the red feathers of the tanager—I love them all. And if I’ve felt out of place, that’s only because I’ve felt out of place inside myself. But no more.” She gave a little curtsy and stepped back, wondering if she’d just made an utter fool of herself.

  Darcy glanced at her, a look of contempt on her face. “Hello, everyone! I’m Darcy Hamilton, and I’m also twenty. You all know me—I’ve lived here my entire life, and you could say that the water of Atwater flows through my veins.” She gave a calculated giggle. “I would be the best Miss Atwater because I live and breathe this town. Why, I want to die here. Not today, of course, but someday.” Another giggle. “I would represent all that is the very best of our town every single day.”