Liberating Mr. Gable

by Tuesday Embers

  Anson was endeared to Benjamin after that, helping fill in a few shifts doing inventory in the backroom when Cooper was too busy with his new business. Summer was the busiest time for the community, and it seemed everyone wanted their own escape. Etta finally learned to ask Anson for help, and Anson was so on top of things, she rarely found the occasion necessary.

  Etta made her way to the office after she and Anson fed their tenants breakfast and sent them on their morning activities. Upon seeing no new cars in the lot, she flung open the door. “Chloe, I need your help. My tenant needs to know how to use the toaster oven, and I just can’t explain it any differently.”

  “Well, that’s what you get when you insist on only taking the elderly.” Chloe was sitting at the perfectly organized desk, clacking away on her computer before she looked up. “Did you shake that bug? Anson said you were puking yesterday.” Chloe and Jamie were splitting the office work, since she was still part-time at the bar in Foot Town.

  Etta rolled her eyes. “That’s what I get for letting him cook the chicken. Don’t tell him I said that, though. He was so upset last night, thinking he’d given me botulism or something. But I’m fine. It passed. Two other guests got sick too, though. Ugh.”

  “He loves you. How is Lumberjack John?”

  Etta glanced at out the window at the parking lot to make sure they were alone. “Well, he swings a big axe and knows how to use all the tools in his belt.”

  “Why, Etta Brossetta! That was almost dirty!” Chloe stood and hugged her friend. “Good for you! Knew he was more than just a pretty face. Too soon for wood jokes?”

  Etta grimaced, realizing how vulgar she was being. “Way too soon. Just stopped by to see my favorite office manager.”

  “Am I living up to your expectations?” Chloe struck a pose on the desk, cupping her breasts provocatively and licking her lips. Her brown hair with streaks of auburn was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Her usual gold bangles decorated her wrists, jangling as she faux-fondled herself.

  Just then, the bell over the door opened, announcing a new visitor. Chloe nearly fell out of her chair trying to right herself, and looked up to find Etta in the arms of the familiar man. Chloe did a double-take. “Jordan?”

  Jordan wore a silly grin at walking in at just the right moment. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

  Etta wrapped her arms around Jordan’s neck, grinning from ear to ear at the surprise visit. “What are you doing here? Does Anson know about this?” She did not give him time to answer, but squeezed him harder. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”

  Jordan’s discomfort that city dwellers often had when traversing into the mountains was quickly chased away by seeing Etta happier than he ever had before. “Well, it looks like the mountains agree with you. I just have a few things of Anson’s to deliver. Thought I’d stick around for a day or two and see your place.”

  “What is it with you LA guys not making reservations?” Chloe flipped through the book and found the French Connection, relieved that two of the couples were checking out that afternoon. “You’re just lucky the Johnsons were a no-show.” She penciled him in and brought up the paperwork for a new renter.

  “No, no, Chloe. He doesn’t need to pay for anything. He’s Anson’s guest, and you can book him a free room for the week.”

  Chloe bent down and retrieved a box from under the desk. “I almost forgot. Coop dropped this off for you. He thinks Vera was storing a box for Papa Henri, and that you should probably have it now.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Etta swallowed down the rising emotion at being given another piece of her Papa, even if what was inside happened to be his old socks.

  Jordan help up his hand to stop Chloe from jotting down his information in her book. “You’re sweet, but I’m only staying one or two nights. I’ve got a lot going on back home. I work for Ekaterina now. Did Anson tell you?”

  “Oh, well, she’s a fortunate girl. Good luck getting her organized, though. She’s more of a free spirit than Anson was.”

  “Was?” Jordan set down his suitcase and stretched. “I take it he’s doing better out here?”

  “Much. Night and day. Come on. I’ll take you to our house.” She picked up his suitcase, holding Papa Henri’s box in her other arm, but then stopped when she noticed his footwear. “Oh, it’s a mile walk, and those are nice shoes. Do you want to wait here? I can run back and grab the car to pick you up.”

  “I ran a half marathon last year, Etta. I think I can handle a little walk in the woods.” He took the suitcase from her and thanked Chloe for the key.

  The two tromped through the woods, Jordan commenting every now and then in between Etta’s stream of explanations on everything they passed. He stopped walking when they were almost there to laugh loudly. “I’ve never heard you talk so much. I think the entire time you lived in LA, you didn’t speak as much as you have just now. I love it.”

  Etta composed herself, but could not hold back her giddiness at getting to share her life with her friend. “Anson will be so happy to see you.” She let Jordan into the house, smiling as he took in the different facets that made the French Connection her home. “I think Anson’s in the greenhouse. I’ll go get him.”

  “I don’t understand how you live without cell phones up here.”

  Etta chuckled at the sight of Jordan so removed from his element. She went out back to call her boyfriend in, so she could sift through Papa Henri’s box in private.

  Vera and Henri

  Etta was not ready for an audience just yet, so she left the boys to catching up in the kitchen as she headed for her bedroom.

  On the top of the box in Vera’s neat cursive was written “Henri Brossetta.” The space between Etta’s eyebrows wrinkled as she gingerly lifted the lid and peered inside, unsure what Vera could have of her grandfather’s.

  Perfectly filed and still in their opened envelopes were nearly a hundred letters addressed to Vera from Henri. Etta looked behind her to make sure the door to her room was still closed. She pulled out one at random, feeling like she might get in trouble from her Papa if he saw her sneaking through his things.

  Dearest Love,

  The sun rose late today, even though I was up an hour before, waiting for it to tell me I would see you soon. Sundays are what my week lives for, because I get to see you at church. You play the piano so beautifully. Every hymn has new meaning when you put it to your music. In fact, music seems to follow you wherever you go. I find myself wishing I could be your music, so I would never be parted from you.

  Etta wore your cardigan today. She loves it, and wears it often. How I wish you would marry me, so she could be your granddaughter, but I’ve kept to your wishes and will not ask again until you are ready. Though, I’m half-tempted to tell Etta about us so she can convince you how perfect the three of us would be together. That would bring her more joy than anything her life has experienced thus far.

  You bring me that joy, so I know what I speak is true.

  Until I see you again, know that I love you, and will be with you however you’ll have me until I die.

  -Your Henri

  Etta’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she was sure her heart’s loud thud was the only sound in the world. She picked out another letter, revealing that Vera and Papa met often while Etta was being tutored by Benjamin, and the whole town was unaware of their secret relationship. Letter after letter was a beautiful expression of his love for her. There was a constant wish for Vera to be with him publicly thrown in every now and then.

  The letter that nearly made Etta’s heart stop was still clutched in her hands as she sat on the bed, shaking at having undiscovered pieces of her Papa so near. It was the oldest letter, judging by the degree of fading on the envelope and the care with which Etta had to handle it.

  My Vera,

  As you know, my son and his wife passed away in a car accident last week. They have a daughter, and I am her only living relative. Raising a child at my age feels
ludicrous, but it is her only option. I want to marry you, and even have a ring under the floorboards in my office I was going to propose to you with. I still want that, but it would be unfair to the child for me to split my focus. When you are in the room, there simply is no one else.

  I ask that you wait one year, so I can get a handle on being a parent all over again. If you can be patient, I will be yours forever.

  The girl’s name is Henrietta, named after me. I met her once when she was born, but I fear I’ve let the time slip away. Now she has no one but an old stodgy grandfather who made more mistakes with his son than anyone has a right to. This is my second chance at being a proper parent, and I must do it right.

  Please wait for me.

  -Your Henri

  Etta trembled as she read letter after letter, revealing the story of their hidden love. Papa asked her to marry him one year to the day after he wrote the initial letter asking for patience. Etta gathered that her response had been negative, but they still carried on their secret relationship. Vera apparently was not ready to be a parent all over again, and Papa was firm that they could make it work.

  Some of their correspondence was about Etta’s teenage years, with Papa asking Vera to gently coax Etta toward better, more grownup choices. Looking back, Etta could see her surrogate grandmother’s hand in many of her big life decisions, and that while legally she maintained her widowed status, Vera stepped into the role of both grandmother and mother on more than one occasion, unable to distance herself from Henri or his granddaughter.

  Big Basket, Small Box

  Etta stayed in her bedroom as long as she felt she could get away with it. She emerged to find Anson and Jordan conversing in hushed whispers at the kitchen table after the guests finished their dinner.

  Once they saw her, overly chipper smiles broke out on their faces, trying to hide whatever secrets they were sharing. “Hey, babe. I was just telling Jordan he should think about making a permanent change and come live up here.”

  Jordan sipped his coffee, closing up his briefcase. “I may need more convincing. I’m not used to all this quiet. It’s unnatural.”

  Etta smiled, trying to relocate her levity. “It’s nature, silly. That makes it more natural than the cavalcade of traffic you’re surrounded with back home.”

  Anson pulled her to sit on his knee. Etta glanced at the staircase to be sure none of the guests saw her impropriety. He played with the stray hairs at the base of her neck. “You alright, little duck?”

  “Yeah. Sorry to abandon you with this one, Jordan.”

  “Hey! I’m a delight.” Anson squeezed her side just to hear her squeak.

  Jordan smiled at seeing them so at ease with each other. No matter how much Anson had going for him in LA, he could see Etta was the reason Anson had light in his eyes and dirt under his fingernails. “Not at all. I was thinking about turning in early tonight, actually. Jet lag.”

  “I missed the whole day going through Vera’s box of stuff. We could have been having fun!” Etta complained. “Can we show you around tomorrow?”

  “I’d love nothing more.” He gave Anson a knowing look that made Etta suspicious.

  “What are you two up to? Was the syndication deal better than you were hoping?”

  “Much. Will you take a walk with me? I wanted to talk to you about it all, but not here. Too many ears.” He pointed to the ceiling to indicate the guests above.

  “Sure. I’ll go tell them we’ll be out for a bit.” Etta bid Jordan goodnight, and then relayed her message to the renters, turning down their beds before she went. When she descended the stairs, she found Anson holding the picnic basket. He looked unusually nervous, but there was no sign of shaking or excessive handwashing. “Is that for us?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t eat much today.”

  Etta looped her arm through his. They were both uncommonly quiet as they hiked down the trail to the creek. Anson was very specific that he wanted to eat by her family’s tree. “I’m glad you like the spot so much.” Etta gave his shoulder a dainty kiss.

  When they reached the creek, Anson seemed to be unnecessarily confused by normal things. The blanket he laid out had to be just so. He insisted on unpacking the food, nearly raising his voice to stop her from touching the basket.

  “Cheese and crackers, Anson. I was just trying to help. Are you okay?”

  He sobered, sensing her discomfort. “I’m sorry. Just humor me for now, okay? Let me do this. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

  “Honey, we can have a picnic any time you want. I didn’t realize you liked them so much. I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Picnics.” Anson finished setting out the food, and then helped her to sit in a specific spot on the blanket. “There.”

  “You good?” She studied him, watching for signs of his OCD beneath the strange behavior.

  Anson cleared his throat as if gearing up to make a speech. “I am. In fact, I’ve been good for a long time. Ever since I met you, I’ve been getting better and better.”

  “I’m proud of you.” She pointed to the basket. “Can I have some?”

  Thrown off his speech, he handed her a container of fruit. He watched her tear into it like she had never tasted the luxury before. “You must be starving. I’m glad you got your appetite back.”

  “These are like, the best strawberries in the world. Seriously. These are the same ones from Sylvia and Ed’s greenhouse?”

  “Yeah. Man, I love watching you eat.” He adjusted himself as he watched her lips close around a piece of pineapple. Her gratuitous moan distracted him from his purpose. “Um, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” He shook his head to reassemble his scrambled brain. “I love you. Do you know that?”

  His face was so concerned, Etta nearly laughed. “Um, yeah. I know you love me. I love you, too, Anson.”

  He exhaled like he was unsure of the feelings they barely went five hours without voicing. “Well, that’s good.”

  Etta put the food down. “What’s going on? Is it something to do with Jordan? Is something he told you getting you all worked up?”

  “Yes,” Anson replied, but then shook his head. “No. He brought me something, but this doesn’t have anything to do with him.”

  “Okay, now you’re not making sense. What’s going on?” The fruit had been neglected for too long, so Etta sneaked another bite. In the light of the setting sun, Etta could see the sweat beginning to bead on Anson’s forehead, though she was not terribly warm. When he reached into the picnic basket, it was with a trembling hand. Etta did not understand the source of his distress, so she waited patiently for him to tell her.

  “I’m happy here with you. Really, anywhere with you is great. But I’m starting to feel more at home up here. I’m making friends and learning the ropes. I think we make a pretty good team.”

  “We do.” Etta shifted on the blanket, still watching him for signs of a forthcoming breakdown.

  “I don’t ever want us to stop being a team. I have a lot of flaws, but I’m working on them. I haven’t had a slip-up in a while, and every day I feel better.” He held up his fingers to tick off points on his list. “I’m a good provider. I can run the business with you. I get along with your friends – even Cooper. I can protect you when you need it, and I take care of whatever you’ll let me do.” Then, as if he left something off his list, he added, “Oh, and I love you. Did I say that yet? I love you so much, Etta.”

  “You did say that.” Etta spoke slowly, unsure what his reasons were for needing to prove his worth to her. “Are you okay?”

  “I am. I will be.” He pulled out a small box from the basket, leaning forward to kneel on the blanket before her. “Henrietta Loretta Brossetta, will you marry me?”

  Etta’s mouth fell open in shock, her eyes wide as saucers. “What?!” she shrieked, startling the wildlife around them.

  Anson held his position, looking her in the eye to demonstrate his seriousness. “Will you marry me?”

&n
bsp; The words were so confusing and out of left field for her that she did not even see the too large circle-shaped diamond on a white gold band glowing at her from the box in Anson’s hands. When her eyes finally took in the radiance, she was mesmerized. Her mind went completely blank, though she knew she was supposed to do something. “What?”

  Anson was visibly sweating. “Please marry me, Etta.”

  “Say it again,” she breathed, enraptured at the sight of him.

  “Marry me. Please.”

  “Oh, you’re sexy when you beg,” Etta commented, leaning down so she could taste his lips.

  “Please, please, please,” he murmured between kisses.

  So quiet, he almost missed it, he heard with great joy Etta’s whispered, “Yes.”

  Anson exhaled the apprehension he had been harboring for days, since he commissioned Jordan to pick up the ring he sought out on the crummiest internet connection via Chloe’s office. Chloe and Anson pored over catalogs and websites, trying to find the perfect fit for Etta, which Jordan flew up to the mountains to deliver in person.

  He slid the ring onto Etta’s finger, and they both marveled at the shocking difference and perfect fit. “Anson, it’s beautiful. You’re sure?”

  “Never been more certain of anything. Say it again. Tell me you’ll marry me. I think I might be hallucinating. I’ve been wanting this so bad for too long.”

  “Yes, I’ll marry you,” Etta repeated, beaming at him.

  He traced her cheekbone, admiring the perfect curves of her face. “Now tell me you’ll always love me.”