Brides of Virginia

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  “I’ll take this jar over to the counters.” Garret stepped up, switched jars, and gave her a lopsided grin. “Your sash is coming loose.”

  Rose reached around behind herself and fumbled with the wide bow Lacey insisted looked so chic over a bustle. “I’ll be with you in a moment, Mr. Sneedly.”

  “Don’t tie it too tight. You’re always coming over to help when my kids get to wheezing and gasping from their croup. Last thing I want is you being breathless.”

  Mrs. Blanchard stopped by to say, “The quilt raffle brought in almost six dollars, and Cordelia says the cakewalk is coming up to nearly a dollar and a half now.”

  “How much more do we need for the bell? I can’t see Leigh Anne’s sign from here.”

  “I’ll check on it.”

  Mr. Oates hefted his five-year-old twins and set them on the ledge. “Polly says she wants a kiss just as much as Peter does. Since I didn’t see a sign that said otherwise, I figured you’d be one to bend a bit and take a peck from a girl.”

  Garret came by with a glass of lemonade for her. He raised it and announced to the men still in line, “I’m making sure Rose keeps enough pucker power for all of you fellows.”

  She laughingly accepted the glass and took a quick sip. “Garret, I’m supposed to take Old Hannah to see the quilts. Who is supposed to take the booth now?”

  “You’re staying put. Mrs. Altwell showed her around, and now she’s under the umbrella with Leigh Anne.”

  “Rose, are you playing mother hen again?” Reverend Jeffrey asked.

  Rose gave him a startled look. She’d never imagined she’d have anyone line up to kiss her, but the pastor?

  “I’m cutting in line. I need to get back over there so the mayor can come, too.” He dropped a nickel into the jar and kissed her hand.

  The banker chortled. “Now how am I supposed to follow a fine show like that?” He pulled a whole dollar from his pocket and put it in the jar.

  Rose stared at it in utter astonishment.

  He grabbed her glass, took a gulp, and carried it off without taking a kiss at all. He whistled a tune as he went, but Rose couldn’t tell what it was because of the men’s throaty laughter.

  As the laughter died down, Leigh Anne let out a squeal. “We did it!”

  The mayor stood by her and clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m pleased to announce that the bazaar has been such a success, we’ve earned the money for the bell.”

  The banker turned around and stared at the nearly empty glass of lemonade. “What about the money in Rose’s kissing jar?”

  “I plan to add to it,” Joel Creek called out as he stayed in line. “Schoolmarm’s been saying she needs maps, and Mayor’s been jawing about Buttonhole needing a library. I figure we’ll find a good way to use it.”

  The bazaar continued. Folks started talking about what the extra money ought to buy. The line of men at the kissing booth shortened only because each man attending had bought a kiss—not a one had walked away. Garret came at the end.

  He dropped two shiny new pennies in the jar and smiled. “Looks like I’m the last one.”

  She glanced around and lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “Looks like we won’t have to plant that envelope, promising the Secret Giver will make up a shortfall.”

  “When you concocted that plan, you underestimated your appeal, Rose.” Garret cupped her face in his hands. He studied her features slowly, one at a time. His gaze settled on her lips. “A man—especially this man—knows a beautiful woman when he sees her.” He dipped his head.

  Though flustered, Rose tilted her face up for the little peck. She expected the same friendly smooch she’d gotten from all of the other men. She puckered up a bit, but the minute their lips touched, there wasn’t that little popping sound and Garret didn’t pull away. Her head felt too heavy, her lids fluttered closed, and his lips stayed tenderly against hers. Everything inside of her melted.

  Garret stood stock-still. He rested his forehead against hers and continued to hold her face in the chalice of his hands. “Rose, you are the sweetest woman God ever created.”

  She slowly opened her eyes and looked straight into his. This was her partner, her friend. He might not feel that overwhelming warmth and jumble of feelings, but she sure did. At the ripe age of twenty-five, she’d just had her first real kiss. She’d never imagined how it would make her knees tremble and her heart thunder. Suddenly common sense washed over her. She and Garret had a pact. Everything will be ruined if I let my heart fill up with utter nonsense.

  Panicked, she croaked, “Excuse me.” She wheeled around and ran home.

  Chapter 18

  Garret drummed his fingers on the counter. He’d about lost patience. It was high time for Rose to stop acting silly. He’d seen the alarm in her eyes. The kiss he’d intended to be just a little touch of tenderness had given him away. She’d learned of his intentions sooner than he planned. Then she’d run off like a scared rabbit.

  For the past week, she’d been hiding, too. It irritated him, the way she avoided him. Instead of coming to the store to pray with him to seek God’s guidance for the next Secret Giver project, she’d simply sent a note saying she’d support whatever he felt led to do.

  Far too cunning for her own good, she’d come to shop for her eggs, butter, and milk when he had his afternoon off and Cordelia was minding the store.

  To celebrate the successful bazaar, Mr. and Mrs. Milner invited him to supper. Mr. Milner happened to clear his throat, waggle his brows, and mention that the missus might have invited Rose. Garret intentionally waited ten minutes after he saw Rose pass by his window before he left. By the time he gained entry to the Milners’, Rose already had knotted on an apron and was helping in the kitchen.

  Garret didn’t feel in the least bit sorry about the arrangement. She couldn’t make a scene, take off her apron, and stomp home. He tried to make eye contact, but the silly woman refused to look at him. He consoled himself with the fact that when the evening wound down, he’d offer to escort her home, and simple manners would cause her to accept.

  Biding his time never took so long.

  The mantel clock chimed eight. Garret rose from the parlor chair and nodded to Mrs. Milner. “It’s turning late. I thank you for a lovely meal.” He shook Mr. Milner’s hand. “Pleasant evening. Very pleasant. I’ll be happy to escort Miss Masterson home.”

  Rose stood stiff as a tin soldier as he slipped her summer shawl about her shoulders. “Thank you.” The words came out of her as if someone were squeezing her so tightly that she could barely whisper a syllable.

  They stepped outside, and he tucked her hand into the bend of his arm. Finally. Finally I can talk some sense into this silly, lovable goose.

  “Rose?”

  She turned toward the fence. “Yes, Sheriff?” Garret bit back a groan.

  “Doc’s tied up with a couple of dimwits who got into a brawl over at the saloon.” The sheriff rested his hand on the chest-high green picket fence and buffed his badge with the other shirt cuff. “Sneedly’s gone to Macon, and the missus is alone with her brood. She sent the oldest to see if you could help out. The kids are all croupy from the hay fever again.”

  Rose twisted and wrestled to fasten the last button on her dress. That one between her shoulder blades had never seemed to be so difficult before—before Garret made sure I had all of those new dresses, skirts, and shirtwaists. The completion of the thought made her ache. From the first day they’d met, her life had never been the same. It hadn’t taken long for a comfortable friendship to develop between them. How could she have lost her senses and let one kiss turn her world upside down?

  A glance in the mirror proved that the heat she felt showed in the form of a virulent blush. Even her drab, old, brown paisley day gown didn’t tame the effect of the color. Until she could regain and maintain her composure, she’d have to avoid Garret.

  In the meantime, she’d been keeping busy. By filling e
very hour of her day with a chore, task, or deed, she actually managed to suppress the memory of that kiss—sometimes. Rose grabbed her hairbrush and started to untangle the snarls she’d gotten during another restless night. Somehow, the braid she normally wore to bed had come unraveled. Stroke after stroke, she tried to talk sense into herself. When she started to twist her hair, she knew forgetting Garret was an impossible task. Even this simple action brought back the time he’d pinned up her hair. She shivered at the memory.

  Think of something—anything—to do today. I could bake. Pea—no, nothing peach. Definitely not a cobbler. I don’t want him thinking I was trying to pander to his whims if he should stop by. He’d better not stop by. Why hasn’t he stopped by? She shook her head. I can’t let that man drive me daft. Something else. I have to think of something else…. Apple. Yes, apple. Not a cobbler either. A pie. There. That’s a good idea. I could take it to share with Cordelia and her girls.

  Rose stuck in one last hairpin, then left her bedroom and headed straight for the kitchen. Tying on her apron, she frowned at the bowl in the center of her table. Three apples nestled in the center of it—shiny red apples. They were the wrong kind for baking, and there weren’t enough of them even if she could have used them. She’d dehydrated apples aplenty, but the thought of making a dried apple pie in a season when fresh fruit abounded seemed ludicrous.

  Bread. She could use a loaf, and the Sneedlys went through three loaves a day. With the children still sniffling and coughing, Lorna didn’t have the time to bake. Rose grabbed her largest bowls and set to work.

  A little less than two hours later, the yeasty smell of bread filled the kitchen. With the summer heat, the batches of dough rose far more quickly than usual. The first loaves were still in the oven, and the second batch would follow as soon as she took those out to cool. Rose had scoured the flour from her cutting board, mopped the floor, and washed the measuring cups, spoons, and bowls. She looked about for something to do.

  Even in the few moments when she was between tasks, her mind whirled. Why did Garret do that? Kiss me like that? We were supposed to be friends. How are we ever going to be friends again? He’s a man of the world—how could he have risked our partnership, all for one meaningless kiss?

  She’d had dozens and dozens of kisses that day. Not a one of them had made her feel anything more than neighborly warmth. Then Garret’s kiss had sparked something deep inside she’d never known existed. He hasn’t even tried to see me. The kiss meant nothing to him at all. For him, it was a two-cent donation. For me, it was everything. I have to stop thinking about it. I have to forget.

  The Sears catalog caught her eye. Desperate for diversion, she pulled it from the shelf and set it on the table. Aaron Grim was in critical need of new clothes. Rose turned to the index, found the proper pages, and flipped to them. What size would Aaron wear? She winced at the requirement of height, weight, and measurements.

  If Garret were here, he’d know the right size.

  “Nonsense,” she said aloud. “I did just fine before he ever came. I’ll do just fine on my own.”

  But we’re partners. We’ve been praying, and God has been gracious to guide us.

  “God blessed me long before I had a so-called partner,” she muttered as she thumbed through the pages, waiting for something to catch her eye.

  The women’s clothing captured her attention. Cordelia hadn’t had new clothes in ages. She was always busy sewing something for the girls since they were growing so fast. If Hugo was serious about courting her, Cordelia needed to have some pretty things to wear.

  Why, I don’t need to order anything from the catalog. I can go to Lacey. She’d do such a nice job, and Cordelia could choose what she likes. We all had so much fun when we decided on the fabric and patterns for my clothes. I know! I can order some drawers and vests for her and the girls from the catalog, and I can make one of those cut-and-paste letters and direct Lacey to make clothes for Cordelia.

  Rose started to fill out an order form for the items. She could never provide for such needs with Garret present. This was all for the best. Oops. She’d written “best” instead of “vest.”

  She started the form over again, only to smell something burning. She jumped up from the table.

  The edge of one of the loaves was singed—not badly. She could keep that one herself. Consoled by that thought, Rose stuck the second batch into the oven and went back to her catalog.

  She filled out all of the necessary information for fine, pure Swiss-ribbed, summer-weight silk vests and merrily ordered one in each color: black, salmon, apricot, white, and light blue. Vests for the girls were easy enough—all she needed to record were the girls’ ages and the type of vests desired. Drawers for Cordelia; pantalets for the girls.

  No, no, no. Rose crumpled the order form and tossed it into the stove. Cordelia was sure Zeb Hepplewhite was the Secret Giver. She’d be mortified if she thought for a second that a man had dared to buy lingerie for her and the girls.

  That left clothes. Rose grabbed a Gazette and a blank sheet of paper. She had to hunt high and low before she recalled sticking her scissors in with her strips of bandaging after she’d had to patch up Prentice’s knee the last time. Since she was out of paste, she made some with a dab of flour, a dash of salt, and a bit of water.

  This was so much more fun by lantern light on the back porch with Garret.

  The thought stopped her midsnip. Caramel meowed and jumped up into her lap. She started to purr loudly. Rose set down the shears and cradled the kitten in her arms. “Oh, Caramel, there’s nothing worse than a lonely spinster pining for a love that was never meant to be.”

  “I’d like to speak with you about something.” Garret waited until Cordelia placed the last tin of Parlor Pride stove polish on the shelf and turned around.

  The corners of her eyes crinkled. “It’s about Rose, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. It occurred to him that he’d propped the doors wide open to allow a pleasant breeze to blow through, but he didn’t want this conversation to become community gossip. No one was sitting on the benches, but he didn’t want to take a chance, so he walked toward her. “I stopped over at her place again today, but she wasn’t there. Talking sense into a woman might not be easy, but I don’t have a fighting chance if I can’t track her down!”

  “I confess, I saw you kiss her.”

  Cordelia hadn’t spoken loudly, but she’d not taken the hint to mute her tone, either. Mr. Deeter must have overheard her, because he called out from behind the window, “Half of Buttonhole saw him kiss her. Whoo-oo-ie!”

  Cordelia had the grace to look chagrined that she hadn’t been more mindful of the delicate nature of the conversation. She leaned a bit closer and murmured, “I have an inkling what kind of sense you aim to impart.”

  Garret didn’t reply. He wasn’t ashamed of his love, but he figured Rose ought to be the first woman he told.

  Mr. Deeter called over, “‘Bout time you went and bought a ring ‘stead of selling ’em, if you ask me.”

  As he chuckled at his clever opinion, Cordelia coughed to muffle her laugh. Garret drummed his fingers on the closest shelf. “That’s what I need to talk to you about. Could you give me an estimate of Rose’s ring size?”

  Cordelia perked up and bustled over to the locked jewelry case. “She’s a five. I’m positive she’s a five. She loaned me some of her gloves last Easter. Glove and ring size are the same, you know.”

  Garret sauntered over to the case. “See anything in there you think is pretty?”

  “She was looking through her catalog just a few weeks before the bazaar and asked me the very same question. That one on the far left with the little swirls is similar to the ring we both decided was the prettiest.”

  “Hmm. Would you mind trying it on?”

  A minute later, Garret slid the ring on Cordelia’s finger. “Oh, Garret, it’s beautiful.”

  Mr. Deeter cleared his throat, but it didn’t cover the gasp.

/>   Garret glanced over and saw Mrs. Jeffrey and Rose in the doorway to the store. Mrs. Jeffrey grabbed Rose by the arm and yanked her off the stoop. Garret raced for the door. “Rose!”

  The women were across the street, and two wagons traveled the normally quiet road in opposite directions. By the time they passed, Rose was gone.

  Chapter 19

  You should stay here for the night.” Mrs. Jeffrey patted Rose’s arm. “After such a disquieting event, it’s not right for a body to be alone. The bed in the spare room is all made up, and you can borrow a nightgown.”

  Rose set her knife and fork across her plate. She’d forced herself to eat two bites of each dish her hostess had served. Every last one of them got stuck halfway down, and now the food sat like a cannonball in her stomach.

  Reverend Jeffrey muttered something about a deacons’ meeting and excused himself. As he passed by Rose’s chair, he patted her shoulder. “Romans 8:28 says, ‘And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.’ This trial has already been through the heavenly throne room. We’ll keep you in prayer and have faith that this will turn out according to God’s will.”

  She nodded. He was right, but it still hurt. After she helped do the supper dishes, Rose wanted to be alone. “Thank you for the solace of your company today. I truly appreciate it, but I need to go home now. Caramel—my kitten—needs to be fed.”

  Bless her heart, Mrs. Jeffrey didn’t argue. “Okay, dear. After you feed her, if you decide you’d like to come back here, the door is open, and you’re more than welcome.”

  “Thank you.” Rose slipped out the back door and went home. Once there, she started heating water for a bath and sat down to read her Bible. The faded, plum-colored ribbon marked where she’d left off yesterday in the fourth chapter of 1 Peter. Verses twelve and thirteen leapt off the page at her: “Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy.” Suddenly common sense washed over her.