The Hope Dress

by Roz Denny Fox

  She crossed her arms in a defensive pose and moved aside. “I’ve come to ask if you’re the J. Mercer who draws a comic strip called ‘Poppy and Rose.’”

  A series of emotions ranging from shock to uneasiness to guilt flitted across his suddenly tight-lipped face. Joel averted his eyes and began to stammer incomprehensibly. His only clear statement was “Forgive me, please?”

  Tears Sylvie had been holding in by force of will started to trickle down her cheeks. “Even Desmond Emerson had the human decency to admit his duplicity.” She took a step back before spinning to race blindly down his steps. “Stay away from me, Joel. I don’t want to ever speak to you again. Not ever!”

  “Sylvie, wait!” He chased after her, slopping paint out of the bucket. “I agreed to do twenty-six weeks with the new character. When I added Magnolia, I barely knew you. I’ve sent in everything. I gave her a happy ending. Sylvie, please listen to me!”

  He remembered he was barefoot when he landed squarely on a jagged rock that halted his flight and left him limping. Sylvie was wearing shoes today and she ran like a rabbit heading for the safety of her lair. Joel hobbled back to his house. He should’ve told her about the strip last night. He should’ve come clean about the whole works and maybe invited her to see the strips Lester had sent.

  Stomping into the bathroom he’d been painting, Joel discovered he was leaving a trail of bloody footprints. He banged down the toilet seat and sat to take care of damage done to his heel by the rock. After his initial panic had passed, he decided in a more rational fashion that it was best to let Sylvie cool down. Maybe on Tuesday, after he took Rianne to her first day of school, he’d take some coffee next door and apologize again. He loved her. She said she loved him. Sylvie wasn’t someone to give her love lightly. And neither was he. Joel held on to that fact.

  At least he did until right before supper, when he was paid a visit by a host of town matrons. Many were the same ones who’d delivered gifts of food the day he moved in.

  This time they called him a cad, a scoundrel, a fraud.

  Rianne apparently heard the commotion. She skipped downstairs. “Daddy, who are all those ladies? Why are they yelling at you?”

  “I’m taking care of it, snooks. Go back to your room.” Stepping out on the porch, he pulled the door shut. “Please,” he entreated. “Don’t let my bad judgment affect how you treat my daughter.”

  “Huh,” Ellie, the elementary school assistant, snorted, “I thought you were sneaky the day you came to register that poor tyke. But the residents of Briarwood aren’t ones to visit the sins of the father on the child. Isn’t that right, ladies?”

  Joel was greatly relieved to see a round robin bobbing of heads. “Look, I want to set things right with Sylvie and her family. This mob scene will not help my cause.”

  “How do you plan to set it right, sonny?” asked a woman Joel recognized as a waitress from the café. “You done our Sylvie dirt. And you drank coffee in our restaurant, pumping us to help you do it. We know how important the dress is to her. I told you something awful must’ve happened in New York. Never expected a nice man like you would exploit a neighbor’s broken heart.”

  “I’m a satirist. I show problems in a humorous light.”

  “Broken hearts aren’t funny,” a thin, colorless woman stated.

  “I can vouch for that,” Joel shot back. Indeed, since Sylvie’s visit he’d suffered a terrible ache in his own heart.

  A woman Joel had met at Kay’s wedding reception turned up her nose. “Maybe poking fun at other people’s problems is what people do in a big city like Atlanta. That’s why none of us want to live there.” The woman shook her head. “Iva bragged on you, too. She said you were a country boy at heart. If so, you’ll be making amends with our Sylvie. No finer woman exists.”

  As if that summarized the feeling of the delegation, the women marched off to their separate cars, following a last group glare.

  Joel watched them go, beset by a sinking sensation in his stomach. He didn’t realize Rianne hadn’t obeyed his directive until she said from the doorway in a small voice, “They don’t like you, Daddy. What did that woman mean, make amends with Sylvie? Does it have to do with how she makes dresses?”

  “Rianne, baby.” Sighing, Joel trudged back up the steps. “Daddy didn’t mean to, but he hurt Sylvie’s feelings. To make amends is to right a wrong. They want me to make her feel good again.”

  “Can’t you tell her you’re sorry? That’s what you always say I hafta do if I hurt somebody’s feelings.”

  He turned her back into the house. “Kids are better at accepting apologies than adults. Big people take more convincing. I need to figure out some extra-special way of showing Sylvie I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart.”

  Rianne gazed up at her father with wide blue eyes. “Then do it, Daddy. I love Sylvie a whole lot, and I don’t want her to be mad at me like Mama is.”

  “Snooks, your mama’s not mad at you. She’s busy with her new job.”

  Rianne ducked out from under the big hand he’d rested on her shoulder, scooped up Fluffy, who meowed at her feet, and stalked off. “Fix it with Sylvie, Daddy.”

  “That may turn out to be a very tall order,” Joel muttered, lowering his chin to his chest as he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  The evening passed. The most constructive thing Joel did was email Lester asking for a break before offering anything new. He’d lost his taste for the job.

  Monday morning slid by in a haze of loneliness. Tuesday emerged in a flurry of trying to get Rianne fed and dressed for her first day of school. She wanted to ride the bus, then changed her mind, asking her dad to drive her. They finally settled that he’d take her today, check out the bus and she’d ride it on day two.

  Joel didn’t know what Rianne’s reception would be from the Martin twins and Holly Johnson, as their mothers had been part of Sunday’s lynch mob. The girls ran up and gathered Rianne into their midst, apparently untouched by the uproar Joel had caused.

  He couldn’t wait to leave the school. Not knowing what to say to Sylvie, he nevertheless drove home, got out and strode right up to her door.

  She didn’t answer his knock, even though her car and her Mutt Mobile were both parked out front. He knocked until his knuckles were raw, and pleaded with her to talk to him until he grew hoarse. Her door remained firmly closed.

  Retreating, Joel phoned. The first time she picked up. But she slammed down the receiver the instant he spoke.

  As discouraged as he’d ever been, Joel did nothing but sit and debate what approach to try next. A knock at his door about noon roused him from his useless deliberations. Joel didn’t much care to see whoever might be standing on his porch, considering the blistering his ears had taken from his last visitors.

  Looking out the window first, he felt his heart somersault. Sylvie’s dad stood there, hands buried in his front pockets, rocking back and forth.

  At least Rob Shea wasn’t carrying a shotgun. Never the cowardly sort, Joel jerked open the door. “Want to come in, or were you planning to tear me limb from limb in public?”

  Rob, who’d been whistling off-key, stopped. “After listening for two days while the women in my family and those in town set themselves up as judge and jury, I came to see if you’d like to go fishing. Told myself, ‘Rob, if ever a man’s in need of setting his mind adrift for a few hours, it’s Joel Mercer.’”

  “Fishing?” Joel stumbled a bit on that. “I get it. Sylvie must’ve described how I almost drowned that one time and sent you to finish the job.”

  Rob roared with laughter. “Son, you do have it bad. Grab your pole. I’ll meet you at the fork in the path like before.”

  Sylvie, having just ventured forth to open her front drapes, saw her father drive into Joel’s lane. She pressed her forehead to the window, waiting to see how long he stayed. In short order she saw him heading back to his truck. The fact that he was there at all made her mad. She stormed out of the
house.

  “Dad, honestly! Don’t you think I’m old enough to fight my own battles? Fifty people have phoned to tell me how half the ladies in town shredded Joel yesterday on my behalf.” She clenched a fist and hit herself in the chest. “I can handle this. I want everyone...everyone to butt out. Is that clear?”

  Rob calmly removed the case with his fishing pole from his pickup, all the while taking in the pain-ravaged face of the daughter who most resembled her mother. “I’m too old for fisticuffs, Sylvie-girl. We’re just a couple of fellows with time on our hands, who are gonna do some fishin’.” He left her gaping after him.

  “You’re kidding!” Her hand slowly uncurled, and she sputtered ineffectually at his back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joel emerge around the side of his house. He looked so good, a physical pain ricocheted through her. “Dad!” she said in a low, ragged voice. “Last time I fished with Joel, he lost his footing and fell in the lake and nearly drowned. Take care of him, okay?” She flattened herself against her dad’s pickup as Joel half turned. Rob continued walking. He did toss a casual wave over one shoulder, so Sylvie went home pretty certain he’d heard her.

  “Was that Sylvie?” Joel asked. It was the first comment out of his mouth.

  “Yep. Still has a care for your well-being, son. What do you plan to do about it?”

  Joel shrugged miserably. “I haven’t the foggiest idea, sir.”

  Rob fell into step with him. “A man needs a plan. When it comes to women, it helps to have a backup, as well.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Joel declared as they assumed their spots on the dock and settled down to fish. “I really screwed up with her.”

  Rob hooked a fish right off, a beauty. He played it carefully, speaking as he did. “Over the years, the thing I’ve noticed about all my girls—they’re marshmallows inside. Women seem to be more complicated now than in my day. Back then, flowers, candy, wine were all a man needed to show he was sorry. Now I hear the young women talking when they don’t know I’m listenin’. Seems a fellow needs to come up with a unique romantic gesture nowadays. A special kind of apology.”

  “Like what?” Joel hooked a smaller fish as Rob landed his. “I asked her to marry me, but maybe you didn’t know that. I also assured Sylvie I’d make her dream of becoming a designer possible. I told her I believe in her. My job caused our rift, so I asked for a break. In case you think I can’t support her, I can. I made a lot when my comic strip syndicated. And Iva left me more than the house. Mining stocks she thought were worthless. My lawyer tells me they were converted in a big railroad merger recently.”

  Rob nodded. “Iva and my grandparents. Same stocks. Haven’t decided whether to upgrade the family furniture company or retire early. Money’s not everything, though, son.”

  “I know. But Sylvie refused to listen when I tried to tell her I quit my job.”

  “I don’t think she dislikes your job. But it’ll take more than talk. Jeff, now, he asked Carline to marry him seven days a week for a month. Didn’t work. Then he invited her to a special dinner he cooked. Word is, he spread rose petals from his kitchen to the patio where he’d set a table with white linen and candles. Those rose petals led straight to an open velvet box holding a sparkler of an engagement ring. Did the trick for him.”

  “Wow, impressive. What about Grant? He doesn’t strike me as a romance kind of guy.”

  “Maybe not as a rule. He’s been crazy over Dory from fourth grade. They went steady all through high school. She was on the verge of breaking up, saying they’d fallen into a rut. It was during the ball game at one of our Labor Day Festivals that he hired a friend with an airplane to skywrite ‘Grant loves Dory’ right above the ballfield. Pilot made a trail of hearts off into the clouds. Grant left the game, found Dory in the bleachers and proposed over a loudspeaker. Method worked.”

  “Hmm. I can see this may take some heavy-duty thinking.”

  Rob reeled in a second fish. “Sylvie and the others can use a cooling-off period. Don’t let it go too long, though.” He clambered to his feet. “Well, my boy, no sense overfishing this spot. Maybe I’ll mosey home with this fine catch. Tonight I’ll clean ’em and cook ’em myself, and break out a nice bottle of Nan’s favorite wine. Best I can do for you is to soften her up some. It’s up to you to convince Nan you didn’t draw those pictures with malicious intent. But between you and me, folks are amazed by how clever you are with a pen. The likeness between Magnolia and Sylvie took talent.”

  “I ended the series with a grand finale, Rob. A wedding,” Joel said. “And after that, I’m taking a break. Actually, I have a hankering to try my hand at woodworking. I understand you built Kendra a playhouse and you still have the plans. I may build a bookcase after that.”

  They were halfway up the trail when Rob clapped Joel on the back. “For the past couple of years, Nan’s been bugging me to take more time off from my business. I’ve kicked around the idea of locating an apprentice. Tell you what—I will dig out those playhouse plans. Why don’t you come to the shop tomorrow, after Rianne goes to school. We’ll talk some more. I’ll see if you have a feel for working with wood.”

  Joel felt the first surge of hope in two days that things might work out, after all. Except there was still the matter of a unique romantic gesture. That weighed heavily on his mind all night. The next week he spent every day puttering happily in Rob’s shop. And Rob beamed over how quickly he picked up a feel for woodworking. However, a call from Lester Egan that evening left Joel realizing that his talent lay in cartooning. They ended their conversation with Lester leaving the door open for Joel to return anytime.

  A week later, Rianne unwittingly handed her dad a possible avenue to take with Sylvie. His daughter had gotten in the habit of stopping next door after school, either for milk and homemade cookies, or just for girl talk. This particular afternoon, she came running into the house, bursting with news.

  “Daddy, Daddy, you know what? Sylvie showed me the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It’s white and shiny and glittery with diamonds. And pearls. Only she said they’re fake. It’s a wedding dress, Daddy. Sylvie’s never showed it to anybody. Only me. And you know what? She’s gonna work day and night to finish it to raffle off at the church bazaar. ’Cause she said the choir needs new robes, and this dress will fetch ’nuff money for all the robes they need.”

  Joel sorted through Rianne’s excited, tumbled words. He came to the conclusion that it had to be the dress Sylvie planned to get rid of.

  He paced back and forth in front of the living room window, staring at Sylvie’s house. The news didn’t bode well for him or for his chances of making amends. Sylvie was giving up on her career and giving up on ever walking down the aisle herself.

  “Snooks, change into play clothes, will you? I need to go talk to Grandma Nan and Grandpa Rob.” Joel needed some serious help here. He was so thankful for the generosity of Sylvie’s parents. He and they had gotten past his horrid blunder. Now he was about to request their cooperation in a plan he’d discarded once but had decided to reconsider.

  * * *

  NAN LISTENED AS Joel repeated what Rianne had said. “Oh, Joel. I’m sorry. I assumed she’d eventually see, as we all have, that you didn’t draw that cartoon strip to hurt her. I hate to say it, but you should probably just move on with your life.”

  “I’m not ready to do that, Nan. Hear me out,” he said. “I have a good friend, Julie Kerr. She married my college roommate. And she used to head the fashion section of the Atlanta paper. I did some ad work for her. They moved to Chicago about the time my marriage fell apart. Julie got this great job as editor of Bride’s Delight.”

  “I’ve seen that magazine at Sylvie’s house. Her clients often choose gowns they feature. I don’t know what you have in mind, Joel, but I’m beginning to see possibilities. Why don’t you hold off telling me a minute. Let me bring in the troops. Kendra misses playing with Rianne. Maybe Dory will swing by with her and pick up Carline and Keena
n. This sounds like something that calls for a Shea family summit. After I call, I’ll fix fresh coffee while you fetch Rob from the wood shop.”

  Joel wondered hours later if Sylvie’s ears were burning. Until this afternoon, he’d been unable to win the hearts and minds of Sylvie’s two staunchest supporters, her sisters.

  “Joel, your idea is totally devious, but I love it,” Dory burst out in the silence that followed when Joel had outlined his plan.

  Carline wasn’t as quick to embrace the scheme. “Joel, are you prepared to have the whole thing blow up in your face? Not only are you proposing to lay out some big bucks, but you risk public humiliation, if she walks out on you.”

  The man gazed at the sleeping bundle Carline bounced gently in her arms. “Did you see your sister’s face the day she held Keenan in the hospital for the first time? Sylvie wants what you two have. A home, children, a man to love her unconditionally. I am that man. All I’m asking is one last chance to prove it as publicly as I can. I’m willing to risk becoming a laughingstock in a community where I intend to live for the rest of my life. I also run the risk Julie and her photographer might record my embarrassment and turn it into a feature article.... But if Sylvie chooses to throw my love back in my face because of what I did, it’s no more than I deserve.”

  Nan leaned over and impulsively hugged Joel. Rob stuck out his hand. Dory rubbed hers together. “Joel, can you get your friend on the phone? You’ll need her commitment before we can go to work. The church bazaar is mid-November. That’s not much time to pull off something as involved as this.”

  Finally, Carline joined in, “This will require the help of people in town. We’ll need to pick folks we trust to keep this quiet. And Sylvie’s sharp. What if she smells a rat?”