Celia had enough time to bathe and wash her hair since she baked the molasses cookies she would bring the day before. She stood and looked out her bedroom window at the bright sunshine. What a glorious day. Celia felt hope for the first time in years.
Time flew by for Celia and soon she heard a knock on her front door. She opened it and saw Molly standing on her porch.
“Oh, my, you look lovely,” Molly gushed. “I knew that dress was perfect for the dance.”
“Thank you,” Celia blushed, grabbed her shawl, reticule, and the basket of cookies and followed Molly to the wagon.
~ * ~
Celia, too excited about going to the dance, didn’t notice the Widow Mudd looking down the street from her front porch as she climbed into the back of the wagon with Molly. When Pastor Reynold’s wagon disappeared down the road, Eloise hurried to Widow Biggs house.
“What,” Widow Biggs shouted after listening to Eloise’s story about Celia leaving her home dressed in one of her best dresses. “She’s headed to that barn dance. I knew spending too much time with Sarah Morey and that trollop Molly Sullivan would come to no good.”
Eloise stood on the porch pulling on her fingers. “What can we do?”
“Go to the barn dance and keep an eye on her,” Widow Biggs answered.
“Alone?” Eloise gasped.
“We are not alone; we have each other. Go home and hitch your wagon. You’ll drive us to that dance,” Widow Biggs demanded.
Eloise nodded and hurried off the porch and into the direction of her home. She knew better than to keep Henrietta waiting. She also said a silent prayer that all went well at the dance. She hadn’t been to a dance since she lost her husband and shuddered a bit at the thought of showing up uninvited. Of course, the entire town was invited, but no one would welcome her or Henrietta. Her thoughts kept her busy while she hitched up the horse and before she knew it, she was back in front of Henrietta’s house.
“It took you long enough,” Henrietta snapped as she grunted and groaned climbing into the wagon.
Eloise bit her lip to keep from saying what she thought, but she managed to whisper, “Sorry Henrietta.”
“Hmph,” was all the response Eloise received as she headed for the Greiner’s farm.
The warm October sun heated the afternoon more than Eloise expected and she once again regretted listening to Henrietta about wearing black each time she left her home. After all, it had been three years and in the privacy of her home, she wore her simple day dresses. They were cool and comfortable. Maybe it’s time to change back to living life as Eloise and not Widow Mudd. She glanced at Henrietta and shuddered again. Was she strong enough to stand up to her only friend?
They drove in silence most of the way. Henrietta’s intermittent mumbling was the only sound except for the birds in flight and noise of the wheels bumping in the dry ruts.
As they neared the Greiner Farm, Eloise ventured a question. “What are you going to do while we’re at the dance? We don’t dance.”
“Watch Celia what else,” came the sharp reply.
“Why? She’ll be here with her friends.”
“You think Sarah Morey and that Sullivan trollop are her friends?”
Eloise nodded.
“You need to pay closer attention to what is happening. Soon they’ll pull sweet Celia into their disgraceful life.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Eloise glanced at her while doing her best to drive the wagon.
“Sarah Morey opens a business alone without the guidance of a husband and Molly Sullivan is a fallen woman.”
“I heard that Molly Sullivan only danced and played the piano. That doesn’t make her a fallen woman.”
“Humph,” Henrietta snarled. “Who told you that ridiculous story?”
“Minnie Masters.”
“You think she knows more than me? She’s the town gossip. If you want the truth, just ask me. Mark my words; Celia will soon make bad decisions. We’ll need to be there to guide her back on the right path,” Henrietta insisted.
Eloise nodded as she pulled the wagon to a stop. Chip, one of the Greiner’s farmhands, hurried over and stopped in his tracks and stared at them. He stuttered, “Umm, Widow Mudd, nice to see you. I can park your wagon and take care of your horse.”
“Thank you,” Eloise said and accepted his hand down. “You may call me Mrs. Mudd, I prefer it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered and hurried over to offer Henrietta a hand.
She stared at him and grumbled, “I don’t need your help and don’t for a minute think you may refer to me as Mrs. Biggs.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Chip answered and stood back watching while Henrietta groaned and twisted as she climbed out of the wagon. When her foot slipped, Chip reached out to help. His heart told him it was the proper thing to do, but his mind wondered if he was right when he looked into the scowling face of Widow Biggs.
“You’re a bit early, but there are people in the barn. Please go in and enjoy the dance.” Chip hurried off with the horse and wagon.
Eloise hurried over to Henrietta’s side. “Did you get hurt?”
“I am all right,” she answered through clenched teeth.
“Good, shall we go inside?”
Henrietta limped next to her and asked, “What’s this call me Mrs. Mudd nonsense?”
“I’m tired of being called Widow Mudd and wearing black.”
“But, you’re a widow.”
“After three years, I’d like to be Eloise again.”
Henrietta rolled her eyes and entered the Greiner’s barn. She pulled Eloise over to a bench in a corner. “We can sit here and watch.”
“All evening?” Eloise gasped.
“Until I’m ready to leave,” Henrietta said looking Eloise straight in the eyes.
~ * ~
Sarah, Molly, and Nell were busy helping Miranda cook in the kitchen. Sarah looked out the window and said, “Cal has the fire going. He said he’s making steaks. I can’t wait.”
Nell offered, “He woke early to fry up the chicken we brought. That man loves to cook.”
“You’re lucky he enjoys cooking. You’ll always have a good meal whether you want to cook or not,” Molly sighed.
“So will you,” Nell answered stirring the fried potatoes. “Soon you’ll live across the street from the restaurant. All you have to do is walk over and eat.”
Molly smiled and looked at Sarah staring out the window. “What are you looking at?”
“Giles Bowen just arrived. He’s speaking to Cal.”
Miranda suggested, “You could walk out and ask Cal if he needs anything. I’m sure Mr. Bowen will be happy to know you’re here.”
Sarah’s face heated, “He will not. We barely know each other.”
Miranda laughed, “That’s what dances are for. By tonight you’ll know him much better.”
Rachel and Celia, who sat at the table enjoying a cup of tea and watching the women tease Sarah, smiled at each other.
Celia asked, “What’s wrong if Mr. Bowen is interested in you, Sarah? He’s handsome and successful. You’re allowed to be happy after what you’ve been through.”
Sarah shrugged, “Maybe, time will tell. Oh, Cal’s coming, and Giles is watching the fire.”
Cal stuck his head in the back door and said, “Just a warning, ladies. Chip informed me the Widows Biggs and Mudd have arrived and are sitting in a corner of the barn watching everything and everyone. Oh, if you hear a lot of noise, it’s because Mr. Ramfeld sent a few hands over to help ours build a new dance floor. We had the old one stored in pieces in the shed that burned the night of the barn fire.” He ducked back out before anyone could answer.
Nell shuddered remembering the night of the fire and her abduction. “That was a bad night. I’m sorry you lost the dance floor, too.”
Miranda smiled, “We needed a new one so this gives Roy an excuse to build a larger one. That man loves to dance.”
Sarah wondered out loud, “What would b
ring those two ladies here? They never attend these types of events.”
“Me,” Celia said. “I think they’re here to keep an eye on me and be sure I don’t behave badly. They, or at least Henrietta, think I may do something to sully my reputation because I’m friends with Sarah and Molly.”
Molly dropped into a chair and covered her face with her hands. “It’s my fault. They think knowing me will ruin you. I should leave town.” She sucked in a quick breath to control her tears.
Sarah and Celia looked at each other. Sarah shrugged, and Celia nodded.
Celia spoke quietly, “Molly you’re not leaving. Ladies, I have a secret, and I’ll share it with all of you since we’re friends, and I know you’ll keep my secret. I’ve written to Mrs. Brutherington at the matrimonial agency about finding a husband. I expect an answer any day. I will be the one leaving Gentle Falls to become a mail-order bride if someone will have me.”
Rachel clapped her hands together, “How wonderful. I’m happy for you, my dear. I won’t tell a soul not even Samuel until you allow it.”
Hugs were shared, and the women all spoke at once about what type of man would be perfect for Celia.
Roy opened the back door and called, “Lots of folks are here. The women need to know where to put the food.”
“Coming,” called Miranda and she headed for the door.
“I’ll help,” Sarah said following her outside.
~ * ~
The women hurried into the barn and met with other women attending the dance. It was a warm day, and most of the men milled around outside watching Cal cook or talk about the things men talk about.
Nell helped Miranda cover a long table with a blue and white checked cloth before directing the women to place their food on the table.
Sarah smiled at the amount of food and Molly whispered in her ear. “The widows are watching Celia like a hawk watches an injured rabbit.”
Sarah glanced over just as Doubles stumbled toward the Widows Biggs and Mudd.
Sarah giggled, “This might be a problem.”
Molly answered, “He’s really a sweet old man with a terribly sad story. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“From the look on Widow Biggs face, she might faint at any moment.”
Sarah and Molly watched Doubles march up to Eloise and say, “You’re too pretty to wear black. Would you like to dance?”
Henrietta bellowed, “Get away you doddering old fool. Can’t you tell there isn’t any music and if there was she still wouldn’t dance with the likes of you, Phineas Picklesimer.”
Doubles bowed and nearly fell on Henrietta, “Pardon me, you old crone, I wasn’t speaking to you. I was talking to the pretty lady.”
Eloise sank in her chair moving as far from Doubles as she could.
“Well, I never,” Henrietta spouted.
“Perhaps you should. Dancing is good for you,” Doubles insisted.
Before Henrietta had a chance to gather her wits, Molly whispered to Sarah. “I think I should handle this.” She hurried over to Doubles.
Molly tapped him on the shoulder. “Doubles, Widow Mudd doesn’t want to dance. Why don’t you come with me and get something to eat?”
“Miss Molly, I’d love something to eat,” he turned back to Eloise. “Until later pretty lady.”
Eloise shuddered and snapped at Henrietta, “I told you we shouldn’t have come here. That man frightens me.”
“Phineas Picklesimer is a drunkard and lacks the common sense of a mule, but he isn’t dangerous. I knew him when he settled here with his wife. My husband and I were the first to settle here, and Mr. Picklesimer and his wife arrived a few weeks later. We were all friendly, and he worked hard to improve his farm until his wife died in childbirth. He managed until his infant son died two months later. Then he turned to demon rum and has been lost since.”
“Why, Henrietta,” Eloise stammered. “That’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about anyone.”
Henrietta blew out a breath. “It isn’t nice just the truth. He isn’t the first man to be swallowed by the heartaches of life.”
Eloise stared at her friend wondering if she were feeling well.
While Eloise and Henrietta discussed Doubles, he was following Molly toward the food table. “Come on, Doubles,” Molly urged. “You never eat properly. Usually, you eat Underwood’s stew. Let’s make sure you get your fill tonight.”
Doubles eyes widened when he saw the table filled with food. Molly picked up a plate and looked at him, “Fried chicken?”
“Yes, and two pieces please.”
“I remember, Doubles, two of everything.” She helped him add potatoes, green beans, and two pieces of cherry pie.”
Doubles poured two glasses of lemonade and walked to an empty chair next to the area set aside for the fiddle and guitar player.
Sarah walked up and inquired, “Why do you call him Doubles and why does he want two of everything?”
“I heard he got the nickname because he would walk into Underwood’s and order a double right off. Every drink had to be a double. Then when Underwood began serving his daily stew, Doubles would always ask for two bowls. Once when he had a bit too much to drink, he told me one is for him and one for his wife and son, so he never eats or drinks alone. Now anything he gets has to be a double.”
Sarah caught her breath and fought back her tears. “The poor man. We never know what other people are dealing with do we? He’s more than the town drunk. He’s a lonely lost heart.”
Molly nodded. “It looks as if he was flirting with Widow Mudd. It’ll be interesting to see if he does it again. Oh speaking of flirting, get ready. Giles Bowen just walked into the barn, and he’s headed this way.”
Sarah's cheeks pinked, and she whispered, “I’m sure he’s here to get some food.”
Sarah did her best to avoid watching Giles approach. Walter, the fiddle player, and his brother, Willard, the guitar player, started up with a toe-tapping tune and diverted her attention.
She jumped when she heard Giles speak her name, “Mrs. Morey, may I have this dance?”
“I’m not sure I know how to dance to this tune, sir,” Sarah answered.
He reached behind her and picked up a cookie. “Then we shall wait for a waltz.” He stared into her eyes, smiled, and took a bite of cookie.
Sarah smiled and worried that the heat she felt spread through her body would show on her face. Should she dance with him? Nell said he had been raised near Boston. Did men from bigger cities feel that women like her—widowed and alone—were easy pickings? Albert Carster certainly did, and that was before she became a widow. Then she was just an orphaned maid and no one special. A dark cloud passed over Sarah’s heart. No, she wouldn’t dance with this man. Certainly, a successful, handsome man would choose a lovely young girl to court. She decided to thank him and find Nell, but the music changed to a waltz, and before she knew what happened, she was in Giles' arms, and they floated around the dance floor.
They didn’t speak; they danced, and Sarah worried about his silence. What could he be thinking? When the music stopped, a second waltz started, and since Giles had never removed his hand from her waist, they danced again.
When the music stopped the second time, Giles said, “Would you like a glass of lemonade? I worked up a thirst. You dance well, Mrs. Morey.”
Sarah nodded her head and followed him. What was wrong with her? Did she lose her ability to speak while dancing? After a sip of lemonade, she found it and uttered, “Thank you, Mr. Bowen.”
He smiled and asked, “Were you born in the area, Mrs. Morey?”
“No,” Sarah answered. “I’m from Chicago. I moved to Kansas, and when my husband died, I came here to live close to Nell. I’m an orphan and don’t have anyone left in Chicago. Gentle Falls is home now. May I ask what brings you here?”
“I needed to put distance between me and bad memories. I lived close to Boston. My family is gone except for an elderly uncle, and I decided to move to a small
, quiet town. When I apprenticed in a local law firm, someone mentioned this area of Wisconsin as being peaceful and ready for growth. I inquired, and Gentle Falls seemed to beckon to me. Now, I see why.” Giles stared into Sarah’s eyes until she was forced to look away.
She stammered,” I’m sorry you don’t have family and found it necessary to leave the East.”
“It wasn’t necessary, just healing. My mother died when I was a teen. My father was well off, but he made the mistake of putting all his money into the smaller railroads and the supporting businesses. When the Panic of ’73 occurred, he lost most of his fortune.” Giles' eyes stared across the room as he continued. “One evening after his accountant left, father pulled out his best bottle of whiskey and drank until he could barely stand. He told me he had a business meeting and left the house. It was pouring rain, and I decided to let him go thinking the rain might sober him up. They found him in the creek the next morning. The police said he must have stumbled down the hill into the fast moving waters, but I wonder if he didn’t jump. I should have followed him.”
Sarah laid her hand on his arm, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bowen, that must have been horrible. Guilt is a terrible cross to bear.”
He half smiled at her, “Call me Giles please. My uncle stepped in and helped me keep my life secure. He insisted I finish studying my law books and found the apprenticeship for me. When he retired last year and left to live in the country, the memories in the city stifled me, and I decided to live somewhere I’d never been, and here I am.”
Sarah returned his smile, “It’s a good thing you came. There is something about Gentle Falls that heals hearts. It healed Nell’s, and she married Cal. It’s healed mine, and I have made many new friends.”
Another waltz started, and he took her hand, “Dance with me. I think my heart is also beginning to heal.”
Sarah's Heart Page 5