Brides of Virginia

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  Removing the fabric caused more of the packing straw to sift and fall, revealing not just the necessary metal ribs and posts to support the awning, but also wrought iron. “This is too much.”

  “It is wonderful,” Mrs. Kiersty gushed. “Don’t you think so, Rose?”

  “I think those benches will look perfect out front.” Rose shoved the instructions back into Garret’s hands. “Let’s all work together and put them there right away.”

  The men crowded around, grabbed hold of the heavy pieces, and carried them back outside. Mrs. Kiersty, in her bossiest tone, made sure the men centered each bench beneath the windows on either side of the door. Garret stared at the custom benches in awestruck silence.

  The glossy black metal didn’t carry the usual curlicues or floral designs. A low arc crowned the back with a circle in the center containing a diamond shape. Two thick solid bands with diamond shapes were at the top and bottom of the back, with Diamond’s Emporium metal lettering filling in the middle section. The diamond-in-a-circle motif formed the seat, arms, and legs of both of the seven-foot-long benches.

  “Son,” Zeb Hepplewhite said as he hobbled over, “you’re not gonna be able to move those things again. To my way of thinking, you’re stuck in Buttonhole for life.”

  “He’s not just stuck here; he’s volunteered to help out.” Mr. Sibony turned to Mrs. Milner. “He said he’ll help you with the church bazaar so we can finally get that steeple bell.”

  Garret nodded. He was listening, but most of his thoughts centered on something other than the bell. Stinging from the fact that Rose considered him in need of such an act of charity, he decided he’d have to sit her down and explain a few facts—the first of which was, he was in stable financial condition. He had become her partner so they could have a ministry of giving. Receiving was out of the question—well, he corrected himself, she needed those clothes Lacey Norse made, and wearing them was an act of kindness because Rose made for a beautiful advertisement.

  He kept looking at Rose. She’d made sure Leigh Anne got to sit on the bench first, and when Mrs. Jeffrey stopped her to say something, Rose gave her a quick hug and nodded. She and the town had a rare affinity for one another. Sweet, wild Rose. She’d cultivated a family for herself here, and her roots went down deep.

  Rose sat down on the other bench, and Prentice hopped up and wiggled until he was plastered to her side. She curled her arm around his shoulders and laughed as Mrs. Altwell and her children joined them.

  “Mr. Diamond!” Rose called merrily. She leaned forward to glance over at the other bench, which held a full load of citizens. “Look at this. Just look! I think the Secret Giver might be allowing your fine mercantile a bit of advertising here, but I’m sure he must have intended these benches as a gift for everyone in town. Why, the only thing that’s going to improve this is that awning. Surely, this is a fine day for Buttonhole!”

  Garret felt the knot inside of him untie at her sweet words. Dear Rosie—she’d just turned the tables on him. He’d been thinking of the selfsame excuse of advertising as a way to give her clothing. Everyone on the benches chattered happily, but Rose—well, she positively glowed with joy. He couldn’t very well spoil her happiness by fostering foolish pride.

  “The woman’s right, you know,” the banker agreed. “Buttonhole’s folks do need a place to rest now and then.”

  “I’d have to say there’s no better town than Buttonhole.” Garret nodded, then turned to Mrs. Milner. “I have a few ideas for the bazaar. Have you set a date?”

  “Hugo Lassiter said he could meet tonight. Cordelia Orrick can watch his little boy for him.”

  “Fine.” He saw Rose directing Trevor and Aaron as they carried the wooden panels from the crate out of the store. “Hey! Wait a minute. We’re going to need those for a booth for the bazaar.”

  “Why, yes. Waste not, want not,” Mrs. Milner said.

  Garret dropped his tone. “It’s for a kissing booth.”

  Mrs. Milner squealed.

  “Ma’am?” He wondered if he’d offended her with that plan.

  Clapping her gloved hands, Mrs. Milner called out, “Everyone listen! We’re having something different this year for the church bazaar—something perfectly scandalous.” Her eyes sparkled with glee. “Mr. Diamond is going to build a kissing booth!”

  “Diamond, you’re going to kiss the women?” Joel Creek teased.

  Garret tapped his foot on the hard-packed street. “Nope. All of Buttonhole’s pretty maids are going to pucker up.”

  “I don’t know if I want my daughters doing such a thing,” Lula Mae spluttered.

  “It’s harmless fun.” Rose patted her arm. “And just think—you’ll want the steeple to have a bell to peal on their wedding days.”

  “Did you all hear that? Miss Masterson has given her approval.” Garret grinned. “We’ll all make sure she sets a good example and spends some time in the booth.”

  Chapter 16

  Rose paused at her hall tree before she left the house. The beveled mirror reflected her new floral dress. Lacey had done a lovely job sewing it. Rose glanced up and caught sight of her hair. “I look a fright,” she said to herself as she tried in vain to reposition some of her pins to make the bun look fashionably soft and secure.

  “Oh!” she finally said in exasperation. She snatched her straw hat off a hook and slapped it on her head. That ought to do. It even made her presentable—not that such a thing ought to matter. She simply needed to go buy a few yards of ribbon and lace so she could pretty up the jars she’d canned for the bazaar. Well, at least that was her excuse. She needed to ask Garret a few things, but their partnership required that she concoct reasons to visit the mercantile.

  They’d been stealing a moment here and there to pray together, seeking wisdom and guidance for how the Lord would have them meet the needs in their community. God had been faithful. Just last week, Garret showed her a trunkful of merchandise he’d found in the store’s attic that included a sturdy toolbox with a beginner’s assortment of tools. She’d come up with the thought that Aaron Grim could be paid if he helped construct booths for the bazaar.

  On an afternoon when Cordelia managed the store, Garret went through the merchandise and decided what he ought to sell and what the Secret Giver should send to someone. Garret told Rose to come with a list of needs; he’d made a list of goods. Truly, God’s hand was on them. The lists were a perfect match.

  Rose smiled at the benches on her way into the store. They’d turned out even better than she’d dared hope. Garret had been fit to be tied with her at first, opening that big crate. At that moment, it had dawned on her that she might have stepped amiss and hurt his feelings.

  The warmhearted smile he’d given her when he finally calmed down and agreed that the benches were really for the townspeople meant the world to her. He understood the gift wasn’t for him alone. Yes, he’d been able to see the truth and accept it with grace. With the shade from the awning covering the benches, folks could rest and visit before or after they spent time in his wonderful emporium.

  The door opened, and Mrs. Blanchard smiled. “Rose! Are you ready for tomorrow?”

  “Not yet. I have to get a bit of lace and ribbon to put around my jars of peaches.”

  Mrs. Blanchard backed into the store and drew Rose in along with her. “Dear, you need to use a bit of lace and ribbon on yourself. We’ll fix you up for the kissing booth!”

  Rose laughed. “Garret was just teasing me. I’m not going to actually spend time at the booth. We want to make money for the bell. Missy, Hattie, Patience—”

  “Piffle!” Mrs. Blanchard towed her toward the colorful array of ribbons. “Dear, many a man would be happy to part with a few cents to get a peck from you. Isn’t that right, Mr. Diamond?”

  Rose turned and smiled at him. He must have just gotten back from the barbershop. His hair looked a bit shorter and was freshly treated with Brilliantine, and she caught a whiff of bay rum—the heady, masculine scen
t she’d come to associate with him.

  He studied her from hat to hem, and Rose suddenly felt her amusement change to … anxiety.

  “Don’t answer her, Garret. I’m far too old to play such games.”

  “Rose, Rose, Rose.” He shook his head. “I’m not about to let you demure. We’ve all heard of ‘putting your money where your mouth is.’ You’ll be lending your mouth, Rose, and the men of Buttonhole will be donating their money.”

  “I’m going to be busy enough already. I’m helping at the cakewalk, and I promised Old Hannah I’d wheel her over so she could look at the quilt and crochet booth.”

  “I’ll take your shift at the cakewalk.” Cordelia smiled, and her cheeks filled with color as she averted her gaze. “I was going to ask you if you’d mind. I’d count it a favor.”

  Mrs. Blanchard whispered, “Mr. Lassiter is working the cakewalk, isn’t he?”

  Rose felt disoriented. How could I have missed that? Hugo’s started taking his laundry to Cordelia, and she watched Prentice when he went to the planning meetings for the bazaar. Why, they’re sweet on each other!

  Garret grinned smugly. “There you have it! Cordelia will do the cakewalk, and you can do the kissing booth. I’m certainly planning on getting my two cents’ worth!”

  The next day, Rose watched as Missy Patterson left the kissing booth with a jar full of coins to take to the counting table. Hattie Percopie, dressed in a fetching lavender organdy dress, stepped into the booth. Folks laughed as Lester Artemis hopped right up to be first in line. As soon as he paid his two cents and got a kiss, he went straight to the back of the line to get another.

  Young love. That’s what it is. Rose smiled at the sight, then headed toward the edge of the park so she could go get Old Hannah. She stopped by the counting table where the mayor and pastor sat side by side, drinking Hires root beer that the bank had donated. Leigh Anne sat under a big, candy-striped lawn umbrella. A sign in the grass next to her featured an outline of a bell. Thin horizontal lines had been penciled in, and when that sum of money had been raised, she’d color in the corresponding segment.

  Rose arrived at Old Hannah’s home, only to find Mrs. Jeffrey and Mrs. Busby there already. They all fussed over Buttonhole’s oldest citizen, then turned on Rose.

  “I’m so glad to see you wore that dress. It’s so very feminine,” Mrs. Busby gushed. “The green positively matches your eyes, and the sash—well, almost every woman I know would nearly perish to have such a tiny waist to show off like that.”

  “I brought my rose petal paper,” Mrs. Jeffrey chimed in as she pulled it from her pocket. “A tiny bit of this will put a little more color in your cheeks.” She nudged Rose into a chair and applied the tint.

  “Bite your lips so they’ll redden up a tad, too,” Mrs. Busby insisted. “See? You look fresh as a flower. Wonderful! Just wonderful.”

  “Blushing and bloody—now there’s a face that will scare away any male from knee pants on up.” Rose tried to inject a touch of humor into her voice. Secretly, she still hoped to avoid the kissing booth.

  She’d endorsed Garret’s vaguely scandalous plan for the booth because she knew the men in Buttonhole were gentlemen and wouldn’t behave in an unseemly way toward the young ladies who took a turn. Still, she hadn’t imagined Garret would rope her into serving a spell in the booth! Why, she was five and twenty—no longer young and dewy, but a spinster. The men would want to spend their two cents for a kiss from a pretty young woman at the first blush of her womanhood. Rose was well past her prime, and it would be humiliating to have only one or two gallant men pity her and pay for kisses they did not want. She’d rather spare them—and herself—the embarrassment.

  From the looks of how the young ladies were doing when she left the bazaar to come here, Garret’s idea was garnering a healthy addition to the funds. Combined with foods, toys, quilts, and several other money-making venues and ventures, Buttonhole stood a fair chance of amassing enough to fund the much-longed-for bell. Rose figured if she merely lagged and dallied, Buttonhole would reach the goal. Leigh Anne would color in the last line on the bell, making it unnecessary for Rose to take a turn in the kissing booth.

  Hannah’s son showed up and whistled at his mother. “I’m going to have to beat back the old gents all day. You’re glowing like a young girl.”

  “And how about Rose?” Mrs. Jeffrey prompted.

  “I’ll help him beat back the old gents,” Rose volunteered.

  “You’ll be busy at the kissing booth,” he countered. “In fact, I mentioned to Mrs. Milner that I was coming back to get Mother, and she said Patience Evert is balking.”

  “Bless her heart, Lula Mae has her hands full with that one.” Mrs. Busby shook her head.

  “Well, Rose is to run on ahead and take her turn in the booth. Mother, I’ll take you, and Rose can show you the quilts and such later.”

  Rose couldn’t quite figure out how they managed it. Mrs. Jeffrey and Mrs. Busby each took her by an arm and hustled her toward the park. She didn’t have a chance to protest. Hattie Percopie stood in the kissing booth, her penny jar half full, and Lester Artemis was turning his pockets out to scrounge up another two cents.

  “Lester, why don’t you escort Hattie over to the counting table?” Mrs. Jeffrey didn’t bother to hide her smile behind her gloved hand. “It looks to me that the reverend and the mayor will have plenty to add to the bell fund, Hattie.”

  Mrs. Milner and Garret walked up. Garret wore his Sunday-best suit and a natty new straw hat, which he gallantly swept off. “Ladies.”

  “Good, you’re here, Rose.” The strain around Mrs. Milner’s eyes eased. “We can’t have the kissing booth go empty—it’s the biggest success I’ve ever seen!”

  “I’ll ruin that record.” Rose eyed the booth with trepidation. Garret and Aaron had built it, using the wood from the crate that had contained the benches and awning. “It’s a grand booth though.”

  “Charity and Mrs. Kiersty made the bunting.” Garret reached over and tugged her away from the safety of standing between the other women. “Now it’s your turn to do your part.”

  “Garret, I really don’t think—”

  “You’re not here to think, Rosie. You’re here to pucker.” He took a jar from a shelf he’d cleverly built inside the booth and thumped it down in plain view on the ledge, then sauntered off.

  Plink, plink. Pennies fell into the jar. Rose turned in surprise to see who would waste two cents to kiss a spinster.

  Chapter 17

  Hi, Miss Rose!”

  “Prentice.” She let out a sigh of relief. She’d never been kissed before—well, other than by a child or her parents. This would be simple enough.

  Hugo held Prentice a bit higher, but Prentice wouldn’t stop wiggling until he knelt on the ledge and grabbed hold of her shoulders. “I earned my pennies by playing my ha’mon’ca for Daddy.”

  “I’m honored.”

  She accepted Prentice’s kiss and gave him a hug. Hugo helped him down, then dropped a dime along with his two cents into the jar. Rose opened her mouth to tell him, but he shook his head. “Rose, there’s two cents there for me; then the rest is for my son, Cordelia, and her daughters. We’re all thankful to you for your kindness and friendship.” He brushed a kiss on her cheek.

  “Hey, now, what is that?” Zeb reached up and did his sleight-of-hand trick. He pulled a quarter from behind her ear, gave it a surprised look, then dropped it in the jar. “Rose, my girl, never had me a daughter, but I like to imagine if I did, she’d a’ been like you.” He puckered up and gave her a fatherly kiss.

  Rose could scarcely imagine the sweet things those men had told her. They warmed her heart and made her glad Garret had forced her into this booth, after all. She looked out and gasped. A line of Buttonhole’s males trailed around the edge of the park. Young and old, married and single, rich and poor—the men were all lined up to kiss her!

  “Took us a minute to recognize you, Miss Masterson,” Mr. Deete
r called out. “Take off that there hat so we can see the sun shine on your hair and know it’s really our Rose.”

  All of the old fears eased: “Don’t fidget, Rose.” “A proper lady …” “The mannerly thing …” “People of our social station …” “Be sure to …” “Never …” “Always …” “Mind your posture, dear …” The stuffy rules of society, the pretentious code of behavior, the impossible strictures swirled in her mind. Mama and Papa had been gentle, but persistent, in her guidance. When her parents had passed on, though, the rules had nearly stifled Rose. Unwilling to spend her lifetime steeped in artifice, she’d sought out a place where others wouldn’t inconvenience her if she stepped awry while, as Thoreau would say, she kept pace with a different drummer. She’d chosen Buttonhole and found happiness. Here, she could be herself—she could love others and be loved just for herself instead of her bank account or social status.

  Jesus, thank You for this. My heart is so full!

  Overcome with joy, she took off her hat and flung it into the air. It sailed over the park, landed in a tree, and sent several birds into flight. She clapped in delight as the men cheered.

  Aaron Grim paid two cents—hard-earned money he couldn’t afford—to give her a kiss. “You always treat me like I’m somebody instead of a drunk’s boy. I’m gonna be somebody someday, Miss Rose. I’ll make you proud.”

  “You’re already somebody special, Aaron. I’m already proud to know you.”

  Trevor Kendricks spent his two cents and winked. “You and Mr. Diamond did me right, playing matchmaker for me and Leigh Anne. Won’t be long before that bell’s gonna chime at our wedding.”

  “You know I’ll be delighted to help with the plans and reception. Leigh Anne will make a beautiful bride.”

  By the time Mr. Sibony stood before her, he eyed the jar. “Reckon I couldn’t get two cents in that thing if I had to. Got another jar on hand?”

  Rose gawked at the jar. She’d been so busy talking and blinking away emotional tears, she hadn’t paid attention to the money jar. It was brimming!