Ozark Sweetheart

by Helen Gray

  That evening when the family had settled around the supper table, Dad said the blessing. Then he reached into his shirt pocket and took out a small envelope that had been folded into a square. He handed it across the table to Callie.

  “I had to go to town this morning, and I met a friend of yours in the hardware store. He gave me this to give to you. I was in a hurry to get back and fix the steam engine, and I forgot.”

  Callie glanced at her name written on it and fought to steady her fingers and not drop it. She slid it under the edge of her plate.

  “Well, open it, Cal. Tell us what your friend—” Delmer stressed the word “—has to say.” His teasing voice was accompanied by a monkey grin.

  Callie rolled her eyes and retrieved the envelope. She knew she would get no peace until she did. She opened it and pulled out a small piece of paper.

  I’ll pick you up at 12:30 Friday.

  Trace

  She returned the note to the envelope and shoved it back under the side of her plate.

  “Well, what’s he want?” Delmer demanded.

  Callie shrugged. “My business.”

  Before she knew what was happening, he reached over and snatched the envelope. He waved it overhead. “Tell me what it says, or I’ll open it. Did he ask for a date?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, and then reopened them. “No, he didn’t. He just let me know what time he’s picking me up Friday.” She turned to Mom. “I won’t be here for supper.”

  “You all be quiet.” Dessie aimed her mama bear glare at Delmer and Clem.

  That night Callie lay awake and stewed about what to wear Friday, not that she had a lot of choice. She only owned three dresses.

  Friday morning after Dad and the boys left the house, Callie brought a tub into the kitchen and took a bath and washed her hair. She put on her best dress, the green one with little white stars printed all over it. In an effort to enhance it, she tied a wide white ribbon sash around her waist.

  “Would you like me to fix your hair?”

  Clem’s offer surprised Callie, but she didn’t hesitate to accept it. She wanted to improve her relationship with her sister if she could.

  “Trace will like this,” Clem assured Callie as she pulled the strands back and up on the sides. She worked the back of it into a fashionable arrangement of waves and curls held in place with hairpins.

  When she finished, Clem handed Callie a mirror. Callie sat on the edge of the bed and tipped her head side to side to see what Clem had done—and couldn’t believe her eyes. She couldn’t go like this. It implied too much, that she would go to so much extra trouble for an outing with Trace. He might interpret it wrong.

  She reached up to pull out the pins, but the sound of a motor outside brought her to a heart-thumping halt. Trace had arrived. There was no time to redo anything.

  Callie lowered her hand and pressed it to her chest for a moment before going to the door. Trace stood on the step, hand raised to knock. Her heart rate tripled. He looked way too handsome in khaki pants and a dark blue shirt. His chocolate-brown hair had been combed back, but a strand with a mind of its own angled across his forehead.

  He stepped inside and greeted her mother and Clem with a charming smile.

  “I just have to get my purse,” Callie managed to say. She ran to the bedroom and scooped it, along with a sweater, from the foot of the bed. When she returned, he placed a hand beneath her elbow and escorted her out the door and to his truck, his touch causing warmth to snake through her.

  He steered her around to the driver’s side of his truck and handed her the keys. “You’ve been driving on the country roads. Now that you have a license, it’s time for you to drive in town.”

  So that’s why he had taken her to get one weeks ago, before going to see Jolene one day after school.

  Callie couldn’t help but smile at his way of manipulating—and pleasing—her. “Are you sure you want to live that dangerously?”

  “Yep.” He went around to get in the passenger’s side.

  The miles passed way too quickly. Callie felt as if all her dreams were coming to life. Driving a vehicle instead of walking. In company with a handsome man who made her have thoughts of love—dreams she should not have. He was just a friend. She had to remember that.

  Texas County had been named after the state of Texas, so it made perfect sense that they had given the name of Houston to the county seat town. When she pulled in and parked in front of the courthouse, Trace took the large envelope from the floorboard and got out. He leaned inside the door. “It won’t take but a few minutes to get this recorded. Do you want to go in?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll wait for you here.”

  As he walked away, she leaned back and studied the area. Several automobiles occupied the streets, and three people strolled up the sidewalk ahead of Trace into the building. He was back beside her within ten minutes. “Okay, now let’s relax and enjoy the afternoon.”

  She hesitated. “Where did you plan to go?”

  He shrugged. “Wherever our impulses take us. Head back toward Deer Lick and take any side roads that you want to explore.”

  Callie started the truck and backed out. When she got out of town, she drove slower so they could pay more attention to the fall colors that highlighted the roadside and the distant Ozark ridges.

  “It’s incredible,” she breathed in near-reverence. “This has to be one of the most beautiful places God ever created.”

  His smile of agreement caused fresh tides of warmth to wash over her. She jerked her head back around and focused on the road.

  As they got closer to Deer Lick, a side road caught Callie’s eye. She turned onto it and drove even slower. They passed a farmhouse, then another one. Orange-dotted pumpkin patches had replaced gardens. On one farm two men picked corn in the crisp cool weather.

  “I don’t see how anyone can see all this, or human life, and deny the existence of God.”

  “Me, either,” Callie responded. “But I admit that I sometimes have questions.”

  He turned in the seat and placed an arm along the top of it. “What kind of questions?”

  She kept her eyes on the gravel road and drew a deep breath. “Why does God let life be so hard? Why does the country have to be in such an economic mess?”

  “Maybe it’s to make us more understanding of the desperate conditions in poorer countries. Or maybe it’s to make us recognize that we should find joy in God’s grace and mercy rather than in our goods and money.”

  She considered his words. “I can’t fathom the mind of God, but I know that the church and individuals have to care for those who are hurting.”

  He nodded. “I know you take that seriously, and I admire how you reach out to others. I’ve become more conscious of the needs around us because of you.”

  Such a personal comment made Callie uneasy. “Community involvement is all right, but I’m learning that we shouldn’t get so busy doing good that we don’t spend time getting to know God better. Sometimes I have to be reminded of that.”

  The silence lingered for a moment too long before he broke it. “Does it bother you that your family doesn’t have much?”

  “You mean that we’re poor?” she responded, unable to prevent a defensive tone.

  “Okay, poor. Does it bother you?”

  Her jaw tightened. So did her hands on the wheel. “Well, of course. Being poor is hard. Today, more people than ever know that. But some people seem to think that if you’re poor, you’re also dumb and worthless. They look down on you and make fun of you.”

  He seemed to absorb her resentment-tinged words. “I may have more money than you, but I sure don’t think you’re dumb. And I think you’re worth a whole lot more than some I could name. I wish you and your family had more.”

 
; Callie heaved a drawn-out sigh, slowing the truck even more.

  “Money, or the lack of it, puts a barrier between people.”

  “I don’t feel any barrier between us. Do you?”

  She had to be honest. “Some. Our lives have been very different. I’ve always been poor, and you’ve always had plenty.”

  “There’s no shame in being poor. It’s made you strong. Didn’t Jesus make a point of ministering to the poor?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she retorted. “The word poor could apply not only to those of low economic status, but also to those who are bound by spiritual poverty. But poverty is still hard. It’s hard work and hard circumstances.”

  “Just don’t let it come between us. Okay?”

  She glanced over at him again. “We’ll see.”

  “Turn here.”

  Surprised at the abrupt change in subject, Callie steered right at the fork in the road. They had circled around until they were within a mile of town.

  “Pull in here.”

  She drove into what looked like a private lane. “How far should I go?”

  He pointed ahead to a clearing. “Park in there.”

  Callie did as directed and leaned forward on the steering wheel. The field before them had a border of oaks and evergreens at the back of it. Her lips curved in a smile. “This is a pretty piece of property. Who owns it?”

  “Me.”

  She turned her head quickly, and found it hard to get enough air into her lungs.

  “Is this where you planned to live with Joanna?” Her voice came out slightly shaky.

  He nodded. “We were going to live in town at first. But I planned to build a house out here when I could.” His eyes stayed on her face as he spoke. “After her death I dropped all those plans. Lately I’ve been thinking about them again.”

  Callie didn’t know what to say.

  “Let’s walk.” He got out and came around to meet her as she stepped from the truck. She nearly forgot to breathe when he reached over and took her hand. She let him lead her along a faint trail worn in the grass by wildlife.

  For several minutes they simply walked without talking, his hand around hers making her near-dizzy. Callie inhaled the crisp autumn air and hoped he couldn’t tell how unsteady she felt.

  He stopped beside a small creek and faced her. “I really like your hair.”

  She swallowed. “Clem did it. She likes to fuss with hair. It’s a bit too fancy, but I couldn’t...”

  “Hurt her feelings?” He grinned. “I’m glad you couldn’t. It suits you. I think you should let Clem fuss with your hair any time she wants.”

  Callie didn’t resist—she couldn’t—when he pulled her close to his chest. Her heart beat faster as he placed a hand at her nape and brought her face toward his. As if she had no will of her own, she moved her arms up around his neck and welcomed the warmth of his breath on her cheek, and then his lips so soft on hers. She melted against him as his mouth moved from her lips and trailed tender kisses over her face.

  Was this how it felt to be in love? Even in her fairy-tale dreams she had never imagined such a feeling.

  With her heart pounding, Callie eased back to where she could look up into his face. She blinked at the tenderness she read there. Neither of them spoke for long seconds.

  “You’re special, Callie.” His voice came out husky.

  “I’m not,” she denied. “I’m an ordinary country girl without an asset to her name and no training for anything but ordinary hard work.”

  “You’re warm and caring, unaffected and full of integrity. And I enjoy being with you.”

  She stepped back from him ever so slightly. “I...think we should go.”

  “How about we go find something to eat? Are you hungry?”

  She stared at the small squint lines at the ends of his eyes, having trouble putting her body into motion. “I think I could eat a horse.”

  A laugh rumbled up from his chest, and he placed a hand behind her waist. “Then let’s go find a horse.”

  * * *

  “Do you have a horse on the menu?” Trace asked when a young waitress approached. “We’re hungry enough to eat one.”

  The young woman laughed. “Not today, but if you’ll make a reservation for next Friday I’ll do my best to have one.”

  Callie giggled at their silliness and began to relax.

  They ordered the rib special, with corn on the cob and potatoes. When the waitress left, Trace reached over and took one of Callie’s hands in his own. He offered a brief blessing.

  It warmed Callie that he would pray in public. The fact that he also held her hand while doing so gave her the sense that he was strong, dependable and trustworthy, because he trusted and relied on God.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to the man who shot Riley and Delmer,” she said during a break in their comfortable conversation, and then wished she hadn’t brought up that subject.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” he said simply. “A side benefit is that you won’t have to testify against him in court.”

  She hadn’t thought much about that aspect. “I wish the whole thing hadn’t happened.”

  He leaned forward on his elbows. “But then you wouldn’t have come home. I won’t say I’m glad for any of the bad things that have happened, but I’m happy you’re here.”

  Callie felt her face flush.

  After he finished his piece of chocolate pie, Trace leaned back and watched while she worked on hers. “It’s good to see you enjoy that.”

  She hesitated before taking the last bite. “They have a good cook here. She should be complimented.”

  “I’ll take care of that when we check out. Will you go to the picture show with me before I take you home?”

  This wasn’t fair. How could she turn him down when all she wanted was to be with him? And a picture show would be exciting. “Okay,” was all she could say.

  He smiled in satisfaction.

  Sprinkles of rain were falling when they exited the restaurant. Callie thought her heart would pound a hole in her chest when Trace took her hand and led her down Main Street. He released it to reach for his wallet as they walked up the two concrete steps onto the wide flat surface in front of the ticket booth.

  To each side of the lighted area was a large framed sheet of glass with a big poster behind it. The one on the left advertised that Our Gang was showing tonight. The poster on the right showed that a popular swashbuckler would play Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.

  Trace bought tickets, and they went inside the lobby where the smell of popcorn greeted them. “Wait here.” He stopped beside the door. “We can’t watch a movie without popcorn.”

  “But we just ate,” she protested.

  He paused and gave her a crooked grin. “But it’s a movie. You have to have popcorn.”

  She waved him away. “Oh, all right.”

  Callie watched people trickle in from outside and go inside the theater as she waited. Trace returned with a tray that held two sodas and two bags of popcorn. “Lead the way.”

  They found seats near the back just as Mickey Mouse appeared on the screen. Trace handed Callie a bag of popcorn and whispered in her ear. “The guy who created that character is from Missouri.”

  She nodded and took the sack without taking her eyes from the screen, afraid to reveal the way her heart fluttered from the feel of his breath on her cheek. She had heard how Walt Disney was making a name for himself with these animated films.

  When he put his soda on the floor and placed his arm across the back of the seat behind her, she tried to ignore it. But when he gave her shoulder a light squeeze, she nearly fainted from the visions of happily ever after that floated before her eyes.

  Stop being silly. This is simply a day in time. No
thing more can come of it.

  Callie pushed the impossible dreams away. Only when he removed his arm to pick up his soda did she regain something close to normal breathing.

  After the cartoon they watched two episodes of a group of poor children known as Our Gang outsmart rich-kid adversaries. Callie enjoyed it. But that wasn’t the reason her heart made an extra thump every time Trace’s arm touched hers.

  “I loved it,” she said as they exited the building, so happy she could have skipped all the way home, even though the skies had turned darker and sprinkles of rain continued to fall. They sprinted back up the street to the truck, where Trace still insisted she drive.

  “You need the practice, and I need to monitor you.” His voice was teasing.

  Callie started the truck and drove out of town. She trembled inwardly as Trace watched her from the passenger seat, the look on his face making her wonder if he planned to kiss her again.

  Soon after she turned off the highway onto the gravel road, the wind began to whip furiously around them, bending the field grass and tree limbs into eerie shadows. She gripped the wheel tighter and leaned forward to peer at the road in the beam of the headlights. She began to breathe easier as they started down the last hill within sight of her home.

  Suddenly a huge black form sprang from the ditch into the road ahead of them.

  Chapter 12

  Just as Callie identified the form as a cow, probably cantankerous old Bossy, the animal lurched forward into the road.

  In a desperate effort to avoid hitting it, she jerked the wheel to the left. The fender grazed the cow, and the animal darted back toward the ditch, but the truck skidded the opposite direction. As Callie tried to regain control, the left tires hit loose gravel and the truck careened into the ditch. They landed with a thud that snapped Callie’s head forward onto the steering wheel with a crack. Trace was thrown against her.

  He reached over and turned off the motor. “Are you all right?”

  Stunned and disoriented, Callie raised her head and fought blackness. The world spun and eddied around her for several moments. Horror seeped through her as she comprehended what had happened. Her eyes teared, and her hands covered her mouth. “Your truck,” she moaned.