Vaden’s eyes widened with indignation. When Dan’s amused chuckle burst from his lips and into the spicy autumn air, however, Vaden sighed and smiled. Ransom Lake possessed a good sense of humor. Vaden was not surprised, for she had expected as much, but it was delightful to actually see him demonstrate it, no matter how inappropriate his remark.
“Now, we want to see ya out at the Halloween gatherin’, Ransom,” Dan boomed as he helped Vaden into the wagon after the apples were loaded. “There’ll be fun and purty girls and pies aboundin’.”
“I don’t go in much for social gatherin’s, Dan. Ya know that.” Ransom Lake’s stormy eyes met Vaden’s for a moment before he looked back to her uncle.
“Nonsense, man! Everyone goes in for pies!” Dan chuckled.
Ransom Lake looked at Vaden and shook his head, as if to acknowledge it was a losing battle to argue with her uncle.
“Thank you for the apples, Mr. Lake,” Vaden said.
He nodded. Dan slapped the lines, and the wagon lurched forward. “Ya come on into the mercantile soon, Ransom. We’ll have some pie together,” Dan called over his shoulder. As the wagon pulled away, Dan commented, “I think ol’ Ransom Lake is taken with ya, sweet pea.”
“I think I cause him to be taken with insanity,” Vaden responded. “Oh, why do I act so…so irrationally, Uncle Dan? I can’t believe—sitting here with you, still eating this delicious apple—I can’t believe I cherry dropped from that tree limb!”
Dan chuckled. “Well…your pride was at stake, child. Ya had to defend your honor. And I’ll tell ya right now, ya done a fine job of it. A fine job! We just won’t say anything to your Aunt Myra or Yvonne ’bout it, now will we?”
Vaden rolled her eyes, imagining what the consequences would be if either of the two females at home found out. “Aunt Myra might never let me out again. And Yvonne…Yvonne would lecture me for six months on propriety and social graces and things unbecoming a young lady.”
“I figure that would be the least ya could expect, sweet pea.” Uncle Dan chuckled again. Vaden looked at him and was delighted in the complete mirth obvious in his eyes as they joined his mouth in laughter. “Never seen Ransom’s eyes so wide before as they were when ya dropped at his feet today.”
Ransom Lake’s eyes had widened. He was a bit surprised. Vaden smiled at the thought. As the wagon approached the turn leading to Vaden’s beloved babbling brook and quaint rickety old bridge, she asked her uncle if she might walk the rest of the way into town. She hadn’t been to the creek in several days and longed to hear its relaxing murmur and watch the leaves fall to the ground from her perch in the arms of the giant maple.
Dan agreed, ever unable to deny Vaden anything. Soon she was perched high in the branches of the maple, gazing into the bright autumn sky.
Vaden rested her head against a strong limb and closed her eyes. She listened, inhaling deeply, as she savored the air and its blessed fragrance. She savored the aroma of tree bark and the slight scent of the leaves falling quietly to the ground. The comforting perfumes of autumn reached her senses when the breezes brought the sweet fragrance of over ripened apples and pears, the smell of the grasses in the meadow nearby, the scent of burning cedar and applewood. Scents and smells were cherished by Vaden Valmont, for they created divine memories and would often spark sentimental reminiscences at the most unexpected times. Filling her lungs with the heavenly scents of fall once more, she listened intently—listened to the trickling, splashing sounds of the creek below, to the breezes as they danced about in the leaves of the maple and the grasses of the meadow, to the comforting lowing of cattle in the distance, and to the call of mourning doves somewhere nearby.
“‘I long to taste the honeyed breeze and touch the rubied apple’s flavor—to speak with soft conversing leaves, the songs of sky’s white clouds to savor.’” Vaden whispered the verse quietly to herself, pausing often to ensure its adherence to the softness of her mood and the stillness of the moment.
What reprieve nature gave her! What a lift to the soul it did provide! She opened her eyes and looked about. Off in the distance she saw a herd of cattle grazing and caught the vision of the massive pumpkin patch so close to being harvested. For the first time, she realized it was Ransom Lake’s roof and orchards she could see peeking up from beyond the distant hill. She had often wondered as she sat in her tree if it were indeed Ransom Lake’s house that was visible. Now that she knew it was, she could come and sit in her tree and gaze at his house whenever she was able to get away.
“Oh, my!” Vaden suddenly exclaimed out loud. She knew she must get home. Aunt Myra would be needing her help. She had dallied long enough. She climbed out of the tree. Picking up a large maple leaf, she gently rolled each point toward the center, forming a cup. She removed two apple seeds from the apple she’d just been eating, placing them tenderly in the leaf’s center. Then she knelt beside the creek and carefully placed the leaf on the water’s surface. As she watched it float away downstream toward Ransom Lake’s property, she whispered, “Grow another apple for me, Ransom Lake—one as good as I know your soul to be.” She watched the leaf for several moments before turning and dashing toward the road that led to home.
It was speaking to him again—the vision in his mind. Even though Ransom Lake dreaded the change it might bring, he followed the instructions of his sixth sense and walked to the creek that passed behind his house. He stood at the bank for a moment. It was no more than a few seconds when something in the water captured his attention. He bent down and retrieved the large maple leaf floating toward him. Two apple seeds lay on it, and he knew they were of his fruit. He had known before he saw the leaf floating in the water.
As Vaden walked past Mr. Wimber’s pumpkin patch, she heard him call out, “Hello there, Miss Vaden.”
She smiled, waved to him, and replied, “Hello, Mr. Wimber! Are they nearly ready?”
“Just about.”
Vaden saw as Jerome Clayton approached from the other side of the road then. She smiled politely, but somewhat uncertainly.
“Hey there, Miss Vaden. Can I walk a ways with ya?” he asked.
Vaden wondered what his reaction would be if she told him truthfully she would rather walk alone.
“Why certainly, Mr. Clayton,” she answered, sounding delighted, though all delight within her was squelched at that moment. Her thoughts wanted to linger on the mysterious man who hid himself away from the world, not on Jerome Clayton.
“Where ya been this mornin’?” Jerome pried. No doubt he had already been in the mercantile. Vaden could tell he was irritated at not knowing for sure where she had been, though she guessed he had an idea.
“Oh, I went with Uncle Dan to deliver some supplies. I asked him to let me out of the wagon so I could enjoy this heavenly day awhile longer.” She smiled at Jerome, hoping he would accept her explanation and not pry further. She was relieved for a moment when he nodded, but her nerves gave a sensitive jump as he spoke again.
“Been out to ol’ Ransom Lake’s farm, huh? Is he still alive out there?” As she had suspected, he did know where she had been. There was no point in trying to hide it any longer.
“Yes. Quite alive and well. Very well,” she added nervously, remembering the vision of him in only trousers and suspenders. “He gave us a couple bushels of apples, and I’m sure Aunt Myra will have Yvonne and me canning them this afternoon.”
“Oh,” Jerome muttered as a frown puckered his brow. “I was hopin’ ya could go for a walk with me later today.”
“Oh, I’d love to, Mr. Clayton…but I promised Aunt Myra I’d help her this afternoon. After all, I’ve already been out and about while poor Yvonne has been stuck inside.” Vaden sighed inwardly, for she didn’t feel like enduring a walk with Jerome that day. Actually, she never felt like enduring a walk with Jerome, but he was so persistent that propriety demanded she be polite in accepting him once in a while.
“Ya like bein’ outside, don’t you, Miss Vaden?” Jerome commented.
His smile was understanding and charming, and Vaden felt guilty for not wanting to walk with him.
“I do. The outdoors breathes life into me,” she confessed.
They talked lightly as they walked toward the mercantile. When they reached it, Jerome tipped his hat to Vaden. She smiled at him before entering the store and thanked him for escorting her home.
“He’s plumb gone on ya, sweet pea!” Myra exclaimed as Vaden entered the store.
“I think you’ve got him captured completely,” Yvonne affirmed.
“What if I don’t want to have him captured completely?” Vaden sighed.
Yvonne laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous, Vay! Now, where have you been? Uncle Dan’s been home for half an hour!”
Vaden glanced to her uncle for support. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders as he winked at her.
“I’m glad you’re finally back. Them Wimber children have been waitin’ on you near to an hour, Vaden,” Myra lovingly scolded. “Child! You’ve gotten mud all over your skirt again, dear. Ya must be more careful. But, then again…you’re the one havin’ to scrub out the stain.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie. I just…I just…” Vaden began to defend herself.
“I know, sweetie. I know.” Myra smiled lovingly at her niece. “Now, what about these little stinkers? They’ve been waitin’ on ya.”
“But I told them a story only two days ago, Auntie,” Vaden reminded. The Wimber children, and there were so many being there were two Wimber families in town, had discovered Vaden’s unique talent for storytelling several days after she and Yvonne arrived. Sue Ellen Wimber had asked Vaden and Yvonne to keep an eye on her young ones and their cousins while she and her sister-in-law, Margaret, went out to visit old Mrs. Tilits, who lived a ways out of town and was ailing. It wasn’t long before Yvonne’s nerves were completely frayed, and Vaden was left to tend to the children alone. So she told them a story—the story of Snow White. They adored it, sitting in silent memorization as she dramatically acted out the tale to them. There were five younger Wimber children, and the smiling, anxious faces of the two boys and three girls beamed at Vaden as she approached them.
“I just told you a story two days ago,” Vaden stated as she placed her hands on her hips and frowned down at them.
“Oh, please, Miss Vaden! Just a short one. Please!” they pleaded.
Vaden smiled and relented. “Just one short one. Just one.” The children squealed with delighted, sitting down where they stood, in the center of the mercantile, awaiting their story. “Very well, we begin. Now this,” Vaden began, dropping her voice to a near whisper, “is the story of Rapunzel.” She rolled the r off the tip of her tongue theatrically as she reached up, pulling the pin from her hair to let it cascade down her back and around her shoulders.
Dan and Myra both smiled, and Yvonne, who stood behind the counter, sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It wouldn’t be so bad if she charged them a penny apiece,” Yvonne murmured.
“Hush, sweet thing. Let the children enjoy the tale,” Myra said.
“For you see, Rapunzel had long flaxen hair that shone like gold in the sunlight. She was kept prisoner in a high, high, way up high tower—a tower that had only one window through which the gentle breezes and yellow sunlight could enter. And that one window was Rapunzel’s only view of the world. ’Twas a wicked and ugly old crone who kept her locked in the tower so that her profound and glorious beauty could never be seen, for you see, the crone was ever so jealous of the great loveliness possessed by R-r-r-r-r-apunzel.”
Sometime later, when heavy sighs escaped their lungs and clapping made their hands ache, the happy children rose, tears apparent in their eyes at hearing the tale of the blinded prince and how his sight was restored by the loving tears of his beloved Rapunzel.
“Thank ya so much, Miss Vaden,” one of the smallest Wimber girls sighed, tenderly taking hold of Vaden’s hand.
“You’re welcome, Violet,” Vaden said with a smile. Then, bending to speak into the girl’s ear, she whispered, “But wait a few days to return or my auntie will have my hide for not getting my chores done.”
Violet smiled, her eyes sparkling with admiration as she looked up at Vaden. “I think ya look just like R-r-r-apunzel, Miss Vaden,” the child sighed.
Vaden smiled, flattered at the child’s adoration. “Even though her hair was as gold as the morning sun and mine is as dark as night?”
Violet Wimber nodded. “It reminds me of chocolates on Christmas morning.”
Vaden was enchanted. She bent and sweetly kissed the child on one cheek. She affectionately watched the children as they left, waving and calling out their goodbyes to her.
Turning, she was prepared for the disapproving expression she would find on Yvonne’s face.
“Oh, come now, Vonnie. Let them be children! Remember how wonderful it was to be a child? To believe in princesses and princes, magic, and true love?” Vaden asked.
“I only remember wanting to grow up so I could dress like a princess, Vaden,” Yvonne sighed. “Now, while you’ve been out wallowing in the mud…I’ve been telling Jerome Clayton to come back every fifteen minutes for the past two hours!” When Vaden sighed with disappointment, Yvonne could hold her tongue no longer. “What is wrong with you, Vaden? He’s adorable! He’s kind and courteous and polite and—”
“And average,” Vaden finished.
“He’s far from average,” Yvonne contradicted. “Any girl in this town would love to have his attentions…which he seems to be directing at you and which you almost rudely choose to ignore!”
“Yvonne…you know how I—”
“Hello, Mr. Clayton. Again,” Yvonne interrupted, winking at her sister.
Drawing in a deep breath, Vaden turned to face the handsome young man as he entered the mercantile.
“Hello, ladies. I forgot what time it was ya told me to be here this evenin’, Mrs. Valmont,” Jerome stated to Vaden’s aunt. “For supper, I mean.” He smiled at Vaden. “I forgot to tell ya, Miss Vaden, your aunt invited me for supper tonight, and I just wanted to let ya know how much I’m lookin’ forward to it.”
“Why…how wonderful,” Vaden said through gritted teeth. “I guess we’ll have our time to talk after all.”
“Yes. One way or the other,” Jerome said pointedly.
“We’ll expect ya at five thirty sharp,” Myra answered. She looked like a child who had just been caught stealing cookies. “Is that all right, Jerome?”
“That’s wonderful, ma’am,” Jerome nodded. He tipped his hat and said his goodbye.
When he had gone, Vaden turned to Yvonne, disappointment all too blatant on her face.
“I meant to tell you, Vaden. Really! But he just walked in so soon after you finished your story and—”Yvonne began.
“I know. I know. I suppose I should resign myself to him,” Vaden sighed.
“Don’t make it sound like an execution, Vaden.”
“But he’s not…he’s not…”
“Him,” Yvonne finished for her. “Who is he, Vaden? You act as if you’ve already unearthed him. And knowing you, that’s probably literal.”
Vaden wanted to confess to her sister—to shout, He’s Ransom Lake! Can’t you understand that? But she knew she dared not, for Yvonne would not understand. Yvonne did not see Ransom Lake as Vaden did. Her eyes were blurred by his shaggy appearance and lack of social graces.
And so she endured supper with Jerome. Rather, she tried to enjoy it. He was forever staring at her, flashing his charming smile in her direction, inquiring about aspects of her life and family back east. Yvonne was delighted, and Vaden knew it was because she had hopes this charming, good-looking young man would have a settling effect on her sister’s wild-hare ways.
But Vaden knew. She knew herself, and she could never settle for Jerome Clayton. And that is what it would be, were she to further encourage his attentions. Settling, settling for far, far less than she wanted, needed, would accept.
“You�
�ll have to take Vaden out to Vaughn’s pumpkin patch when he harvests, Jerome. I’m certain she would love to meander through the vines,” Myra suggested. Vaden sighed heavily, though she forced a smile at Jerome.
“It’s quite a sight to see, Miss Vaden. Wagons and wagons full of pumpkins. Yep, I’ll be sure and take ya ’round when the time comes.” Jerome winked at Vaden and continued with his meal. Vaden found it nearly impossible to stomach eating her own. Myra was a wonderful cook, but the company was affecting Vaden’s appetite.
“Ol’ Ransom Lake seems to be farin’ well,” Dan stated. “I don’t wonder if havin’ people so close might bother him. He seems to take to Vaden though. I suppose it’s because she’s so honest in what she says to him.”
Every mouth at the table stopped chewing, and every fork or spoon paused in midair as all eyes turned to Vaden. She felt her cheeks begin to heat, and though she loved her Uncle Dan dearly, she could have pinched him hard for bringing up the subject.
“Just exactly what did you say to him today that was so honest, Vay?’ Yvonne asked, the snap in her voice all too apparent.
“Nothing. I…I…” Vaden stammered as she looked to her Uncle Dan for salvation.
“She plumb blurted out why it is that all the townsfolk avoid him so. Ya know…why nobody seems to feel comfortable ’round the man,” Dan answered for her.
“And, uh, just what reason is that, Vaden, dear?” Myra asked, though it was obvious she was uncomfortable speaking about another man in front of their guest.
“People are intimidated by him. Frightened at his unconventional ways. That’s all,” Vaden admitted. She looked at Jerome, whose smile had faded and whose eyes were narrow as they studied her intently. Again, the hair at the back of her neck prickled as she looked at this man. Something just didn’t set right in her estimation of his character. However, he grinned at her a moment later.
“I figure ya got that one square on the head, Miss Vaden,” he said in a low voice. “Looks to me like readin’ people is another one of your many lovely attributes.”
The Visions of Ransom Lake Page 6