Love's Labors Tossed

by Robert Farrell Smith

  The town was falling apart at the seams.

  Sister Watson was trying to make folks feel better by talking about how we could build a new boardinghouse as soon as we got a road. She claimed she was busy searching the same nooks and crannies that had been searched a million times before in hopes of finding the Book of Mormon. The state people were supposed to be out to check on us sometime on Saturday. I was only slightly interested in having them visit our town until a conversation I had with Leonard Friday morning by the catapult. He had said, “So are you excited for Saturday?”

  I went with, “Sure.”

  He followed up with, “I hope you’re not nervous.”

  To which I replied, “Why would I be nervous?”

  Then in a tone far from confident, he said, “It is your reception.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your reception.”

  “What does my reception have to do with Saturday?” I laughed, blinded to the evil that lay ahead of me.

  “I like to help people,” Leonard informed me.

  The evil was peeking out.

  “Mavis seemed so concerned about there being ample people here when the state came and all. So, what’s done is done. Let’s just run with it.”

  “Run with what?” I asked.

  Leonard laughed for a moment and then put his hands on his knees as if whatever he had inside his head was just too funny to let out. Unfortunately, he finally managed to do so.

  “Remember those wedding announcements you had?”

  “The ones that got burned?”

  “One and the same.”

  I nodded.

  “Well, I got good news and bad news,” he explained. “The good news is that they’re all right.”

  “How?”

  “I took them out of the boardinghouse before she burned.”

  “That’s great,” I said without enthusiasm.

  “So where are they?”

  “Remember that ‘helping others’ spiel I gave you a few minutes ago?”

  “Leonard.”

  “I mailed them out bulk rate to a few of the poorer neighborhoods in Virgil’s Find. Don’t worry, though, I pulled out a couple of handfuls and sent them to some of the important people in Southdale.”

  “What?”

  “I hate to repeat myself, Trust.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “I just wanted to see if we couldn’t get a nice-sized crowd here on Saturday.”

  “What do my announcements have to do with Saturday?”

  “Oh,” Leonard waved. “About that, I crossed most of the printed information out and wrote in that we were having a reception this Saturday and that there would be food.”

  “That is the absolute . . .”

  “Save the praise for later. We’ve got a lot to do.”

  “Leonard, there is no way that anyone who receives a wedding announcement from someone they don’t know with crossed-out dates and handwritten instructions is going to come.”

  “Two words,” Leonard said. “And then I don’t want to hear any more of your negative talk. Door prizes.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “God does work in mysterious ways.”

  “Leonard, this isn’t good.”

  “Trust, you’ve got your gloom glasses on again. All you have to do is pretend like you’re newly married for an afternoon and, voilá, we’ve got ourselves a road.”

  “I don’t want to pretend.”

  “It’ll be fun.”

  “I’m serious, Leonard.”

  “It’s too late for that,” he frowned. “We’ve got guests coming. I’ve already tipped off Mavis, and let me just say, she’s thrilled.”

  “Oh good.”

  “That’s the spirit. Teddy’s working on some food, and Mavis is going to spruce up this meadow a bit. It’s going to be spectacular and classy,” Leonard insisted. “Apparently Party Shack in Virgil’s Find has crepe paper on sale.”

  “Can’t someone else besides Grace and me pretend to be married?”

  “Those were your pictures on the announcements,” Leonard chided. “Do you think these people won’t know? Come on, Trust, I need you to keep up on this one.”

  “Grace is not going to go for this,” I said, hoping to place some of the complaining on her shoulders.

  “Women love receptions.”

  “She won’t.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Trust. I’ll talk to her. No offense, but I think I’m a little fancier with the English language than a certain someone I know.”

  Leonard paused for a moment.

  “I’m talking about you,” he clarified.

  “I gathered that.”

  “Good. Now that that’s settled, we’re in business.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I argued.

  “We’re doing it for Mavis. Besides, it will give us all something to think about besides the boardinghouse tragedy. A good time will be had by all.”

  I should have shot myself right then and there.

  34

  A Little Bit of Hope

  The reception was on. By the end of Friday all the arrangements had been made and everyone was gearing up for our fake get-together. After listening to the weather reports, Sister Watson began stringing crepe paper up Friday afternoon. She wrapped it around the catapult and any trees close enough to participate. Wad and Leonard dragged out tables, and Toby mowed down the grass where the reception line was supposed to be.

  Grace had been leery at first about the idea of pretending we were married, but she warmed up to it when she realized that there was no possible way to get out of it. She also saw how it might help people unwind from everything else that had been going on. Patty Heck actually became enthused and she began stitching a dress for Grace as fast as possible. Teddy Yetch called for ingredients, and folks hauled in bags of flour and sugar or anything they had in abundance to her house. From there she began whipping up and concocting what would be our hors d’oeuvres for tomorrow. President Heck was so nervous about what he was going to say to those coming through the line that he set aside his cement work and began working on how to greet those who would be falsely congratulating him.

  Leonard had taken up a collection to fund the door prizes. I felt he was overly shocked by how little money people actually contributed. He bought a couple of gifts at the dollar store in Virgil’s Find.

  All the preparations reminded me of the hubbub before the sesquicentennial pageant the town had put on during my mission. If this reception turned out to be anything like the pageant, we were in a lot of trouble.

  Friday night after I climbed up into my home and tried to fall asleep, I was suddenly disturbed by a small tap against the one glass window that Slippy had built into his place. I ignored it, thinking it had been just the wind or a stray bug hitting the invisible blockade. A few seconds later the tap became a larger whap. I looked up but saw nothing. I told myself that it must have been a branch scraping or a disoriented bird bumbling into it. A few moments later, a fist-sized rock came hurtling through the window, sending broken glass all over. I jumped up and looked out, expecting for some reason to see Leonard. I was wrong. It was Ed.

  “What do you want?” I yelled down.

  “There’s been an emergency,” he said nervously.

  “Is everyone all right?”

  “Sure,” he said, baffled. “But I need you to come.”

  “Hold on.”

  I got dressed again and climbed down. A blanket of stars pinned down the dark night. A partial moon was hanging low in the unusually clear sky and looking like the toenail clipping of a large toe.

  “So what is it, Ed?” I asked as we walked towards somewhere.

  “I don’t know for sure,” he admitted. “But you’re wanted at the school.”

  “Miss Flitrey?”

  “No, I’m Ed,” he said, baffled.

  “I know that,” I smiled. “Is it Miss Flitrey who wants me?”

  “
Last I heard she was happy being married to Wad.”

  “I’m sure she is,” I said, slightly frustrated. “But does she need me to help her with something at the school?”

  “No,” was all Ed said, picking up the pace and walking a good two strides in front of me. It was obvious he didn’t want to get any more confused by my questioning.

  When we got to the school, it was pitch black. The meadow was empty. Not a soul was to be seen.

  “Wait here,” Ed insisted.

  “For what?”

  “Just wait.” He turned and walked away.

  The schoolhouse wasn’t pretty. It was old and leaned to one side. The best proof of its bad balance was to stand in the front doorway and see how it didn’t exactly frame you at right angles. Miss Flitrey complained all the time about how Thelma’s Way needed a new school. But the fact of the matter was Thelma’s Way needed a lot of new things. It was about as unpolished and outdated as a town could be. The school would probably be last on the list for improvements. The people here weren’t actually against education, but most of them figured they had done all right without it and so could their kids.

  I stood outside the dark school listening to the low wind and wondering what I was doing. I was just about to go back to my tree house when I heard something move inside the school. I pressed my face up against one of the windows and looked in. I couldn’t see much because of the dark, but I could barely make out a hunched-over silhouette sitting in the third row of desks. I walked around to the door and pulled it open.

  “Is anyone in there?”

  A soft crying was the only reply. I thought about flipping on the lights, but I didn’t want to frighten whoever was there.

  “Hello?” I said, stepping in and closer to whoever it was.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  The crying stopped, and the shadow sat up and wiped her eyes. I say her eyes because the shadow was a she, and the she was Hope.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  Hope brushed her eyes and spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t know anyone would be here.”

  “Normally there’s not at this time of night.”

  “I’m sorry, Trust,” she said, standing as if to leave.

  “It’s okay,” I tried to calm her. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” she sobbed, falling into my arms.

  What could I do? I held her as she cried. It was harmless. I felt nothing more than if I were a young Scout embracing an elderly shut-in while trying to earn my hugging merit badge.

  I suppose I shouldn’t add lying to my list of sins.

  All right, it was nice, in a really I-shouldn’t-be-doing-this sort of way. Hope clung to me as if I were the only thing worth clutching in the entire world. She cried as I tried not to smell her perfume or feel her in my arms. After a couple of minutes, she sighed the kind of sigh that says things words could never convey.

  I brushed her hair with my hands and tried to push her back. She wouldn’t budge.

  “I’m sorry, Trust,” she whispered. “I just feel so vulnerable right now.”

  She was a big help.

  “My father,” she gasped. “He passed away tonight.” She sobbed bravely into my right shoulder.

  “I am so sorry,” I said with feeling.

  “He never got to see my painting,” she moaned. “Trust, I don’t know how I can go on. Hold me,” she insisted.

  I wanted to point out that I already was, but it seemed a little insensitive.

  “Hope . . .” I tried to say.

  “There is no hope anymore,” she cried.

  “There’s . . .”

  “No hope,” she interrupted again.

  My last two attempts at speaking had not gone over that well, so I remained silent. Eventually she spoke.

  “Thank you, Trust,” she whispered. She looked up at me and into my eyes. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  I thought for a moment that God had thrown down a bolt of lightning to lay waste to me and my hugging arms. In reality it was Grace flipping the lights on. Light flooded the room, exposing Hope in my arms.

  Where was lightning when you needed it?

  “Trust?” Grace whispered.

  “It’s not what you think,” I said in a panic.

  Grace turned and ran off.

  I looked down at Hope. If I hadn’t known the tremendous pain she was suffering, I would almost have sworn she was smiling.

  “Don’t leave me, Trust,” she said, clinging to me.

  I pushed her away and went sprinting for Grace.

  Grace was gone. I stopped in the middle of the meadow, realizing that there was no way I would find her in this dark night. I called her name, but there was no answer. I looked over at Ed’s catapult and considered flinging myself out of this mess. I stood hopeless for awhile, then returned to my tree house, where I cleaned up the broken glass and then lay down, not getting a wink of sleep.

  35

  Fed Up

  Cindy had had it. No more nice. No more smiles and nods. No more hellos and how-are-yous? If the plot from Passion’s Pupil hadn’t worked, then what would? She was through with it. It was time to pack it in. Never in her life had she met a man more pigheaded and dumb than Trust. He had left her crying and in need to chase after a silly mountain girl.

  Forget it.

  It was clear now that Cindy could never completely take hold of Trust’s heart. How could she have been so committed to someone so flighty? The time and effort she had put forth had been for naught. She would return to Homerville beaten and empty-handed.

  Grace and her goofy red hair.

  Trust and his broad shoulders.

  “Ahhh!” Cindy screamed as she stormed through the woods towards Sister Watson’s house.

  “If I don’t get out of this place immediately, I’m going to die,” she said aloud. “How could I have lost when the contestants are so inferior to me?”

  It was the losing that hurt the most. So she didn’t have Trust. What really burned her was that Grace did. How could Cindy ever look herself in the mirror again if she gave up? How could she be the complete woman she knew she was if she let Grace take her prize? Cindy thought of Jasmine Lovely, the heroine of Peeking for Love. Jasmine had lost everything, including her Nobel prize and lucrative singing contracts, in her quest for love. Jasmine didn’t give up. Cindy couldn’t either. She couldn’t quit yet.

  A rustling to her right stopped her in her tracks.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded.

  There was nothing but wind.

  36

  Tailed

  He had been staring at her house, wondering if she were asleep, when a man emerged from the trees and began tossing pebbles at her window. Moments later a light flashed on and the window was pushed open. Words were exchanged, but he had not caught them all.

  The man walked away.

  He waited. A short while later, a feminine shadow stepped out from the house and began walking towards the meadow. Having nothing better to do, he followed. He stayed far behind, worried that she might hear him.

  She didn’t.

  He watched her walk over to the school, only to run away from it seconds later. He saw her boyfriend bolt out and lose her. He smiled, pulling himself back into the trees and deep into the forest. When his tiny mind simmered enough to let him think, he headed out to see if he could spot her making her way home.

  He never found her.

  He did, however, meet up with someone he had only recently become interested in. It was the dark-haired girl with the electric eyes. He watched her walk right by him, and then he crept slowly behind her. The thick scrub beside the trail bristled as he stepped in it. She turned around and looked in his direction.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded.

  He frowned. He really didn’t like being talked to like that.

  “Who’s there?” she said again.

  He bit his lip and considered his options.


  37

  Faking It

  Saturday morning I was a mess. Lack of sleep left me cranky and troubled. Plus, it felt like I had small flecks of glass covering every inch of my body. I tried to pretend that what had happened last night was just a bad dream, but I had never been very good at make-believe. I knew the first thing I needed to do was to find Grace and begin groveling. She was mad, but I hoped she might forgive me. I mean, I really hadn’t done anything wrong. Right?

  It was a long shot.

  I replayed what had happened over and over in my mind, trying to imagine exactly how it must have appeared to Grace when she flicked on that light. In my mind I saw a caring young man supporting a hurting daughter of God. I’m sure, however, that Grace saw it somewhat differently. I wondered why Ed had dragged me to the schoolhouse and what Miss Flitrey had wanted anyway. Thanks to Hope, I had never found out what I really was supposed to be doing there.

  Walking through the forest towards the Heck home, I was stopped by the sight of Leonard leaning against a tree as if he were waiting for me.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You seem a little tense,” he observed.

  “I didn’t sleep much.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “Sister Watson’s got all the details done,” he tried to sound enthusiastic for my sake. “We just need the people now.”

  “I’m not sure Grace and I can fake it for you,” I said as we walked. “I’m not sure we’re even on speaking terms, much less sham-marriage terms.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

  “I wish I were as confident.”

  “Listen, Trust,” Leonard said with strength, stopping me on the trail. “We need that road. I got a house down the way that I want to live in. Do you think it’s easy having your home four miles away?”