If Wishes Were Kisses: Six Beloved Americana Romances, a Collection (Small Town Swains)

by Pamela Morsi

  With no hope for privacy or even the solitude of her own thoughts, Cessy finished her bath quickly. In her Mother Hubbard once more she headed back to her room. She met Howard coming from the porch.

  "Mr. Crane is not in the house," he said.

  "Oh. Well, look in the garden," she suggested.

  Back in her room she dressed and planned. She and Gerald would need to get their heads together about meeting her father. King Calhoun would probably not return to the house before afternoon, but they needed to plan his introduction to Gerald. He was a good and loving father, but he was a father and one who'd in the past shown evidence of temper where his daughter was concerned.

  She dressed for the day in a starched white shirtwaist with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a narrow ascot tie at her throat. Her four-gore skirt was black serge and sported a ruffle at the hem. A quick glance in her mirror assured her that her hair was neat and her appearance presentable.

  She closed her eyes and felt in memory his body atop her own, the warmth of his breath against her skin, the tender touch of his hands upon her.

  Cessy sighed heavily and trembled with delight. She was going to love being married. If this was what it was like between a man and a woman, she could almost understand why her father spent so much time at the illicit places in Topknot.

  But, of course, that was different. Her father's illicit pleasures were not at all like marriage. Marriage was about love and trust, honesty and commitment.

  Smiling at that thought, Cessy hurried down the stairs, more eager for the nearness of her new husband than for the morning meal. She had expected Howard to have laid out the impressive dining table as he had the night before. But her own modest breakfast was awaiting her on the kitchen table, exactly as it had been every other morning since she'd moved into this house.

  "My husband isn't eating with me?" she asked.

  Howard appeared ill at ease and Mrs. Marin was positively livid.

  "Mr. Crane is not in the house nor on the grounds," he said.

  "Where is he?"

  "It appears that he has left, ma'am," Howard said.

  "Left? Well, where did he say that he was going?" she asked.

  "He did not say, ma'am. He spoke to no one, departed with no note or word of intent."

  "He's probably taking a morning constitutional," she said. "Health walks are very popular back East."

  "Yes, ma'am," Howard replied. His tone was almost conciliatory.

  "For heaven's sake Howard," Cessy told him with a little chuckle of disbelief. "You sound as if you believe he has abandoned me."

  The silence that followed, from both Howard and Mrs. Marin, was telling.

  Cessy stared at both of them, stunned and exasperated. They were as bad as the washerwoman, seeing something sinister in a singular walk. Refusing to lose her good humor, Cessy ate her food in silence. This was the first day of her married life. She was in love and desperately happy. She was resolved to feel no other way.

  That steely determination lasted through the morning. Having broken her fast late, she put off the noon meal interminably. But by then her appetite had deserted her anyway. Perhaps he had been hit by a cart or collapsed from the heat.

  She sent Howard to town for any news of accidents or mishaps that morning. He returned with no news. There had been a little trouble up at the well sites, but life was peaceful and uncomplicated in Burford Corners.

  By midafternoon she'd begun to feel a strange aching in her heart. A feeling that was despondent, downcast. She sat at her desk in the sun parlor. From the depths of the tiny, secret compartment within the scrolled door, she withdrew the note.

  My own dear Cessy,

  I can not visit you this evenun as an herjent matter of business has come up. I am sirten you know, I wood be there if I could. I am hoping to see you on Sunday. Maybe we could go for a picknick on the river and spend the afternoon together. I herd that your father is back in town. I think that you should not say inny thing about me to him yet. As always you hold my heart with your own.

  Gerald

  Why was his spelling so atrocious? What kind of business did he have to take care of? Why had he wanted their growing friendship kept secret from her father?

  In that moment, that frightening, heart-wrenching moment, she doubted. Immediately she was angry and disappointed, not with Gerald but with herself. How flimsy were her vows of undying love and trust that they could so easily be called into question? Gerald was her husband and he loved her. She knew in her heart that it was true. She had been certain of it yesterday. And surely his care and tenderness last night more than expressed it.

  That man could not have cast her off and abandoned her this morning. It was not possible. And as his wife it was her duty to have faith that it was not so.

  She heard a step and looked hopefully toward the doorway. She almost called out his name, but was grateful that she did not. It was Howard. Hastily she glanced away, not wanting him to see the unwanted tears that filled her eyes. She raised her chin and forced a smile to her face. She refused to feel sad or scared. He was her husband and she believed in him.

  "Miss Princess, you have visitors in the front parlor," he said, his voice almost too quiet. "Who is it?" she asked him.

  "Miss Nafee and her gentleman friend," Howard replied.

  She didn't want to see them. She didn't want to see anyone but Gerald. But Muna was her best friend. She never refused to see Muna. If she turned her away today, it would be the same as saying that something was wrong. And despite the pitying looks of the servants, Cessy was deliberately adamant that nothing was wrong.

  Pasting a welcoming smile upon her face, Cessy made her way to the front parlor.

  "Hello and hello!" she greeted them effusively. "Is this not the most beautiful day that you have ever seen in your life?"

  Muna hugged her warmly.

  Maloof nodded to her. "I bring you wedding present," he said, indicating a rolled rug in the corner. "It is better than rug you have. I get good rug for good friends, yes."

  He rolled it open on the floor for Cessy to admire. It was beautiful and she thanked him.

  "I couldn't stay away," Muna admitted. "I knew I should let you two have this first day alone together. But my curiosity just got the better of me."

  "You're always welcome here, Muna," Cessy assured her.

  "How did it go with your father?" she asked. "Did he take the news well?"

  Cessy was momentarily confused, but recovered quickly. Of course, Muna would think that the announcement of their elopement would be the primary news of the day.

  "Daddy hasn't come home yet," she said.

  "He hasn't been home since yesterday?" Muna asked.

  "He often has meetings late into the night," Cessy said. "And I would suppose that this morning he must be out checking the wells. We haven't seen him."

  "Oh my heavens, then it is still ahead of you," she said. "You must be a bundle of nerves having to wait like this."

  "Oh I'm fine," Cessy assured her. "Truly I am fine. I'm . . . I'm sure that Daddy is just going to love Gerald."

  "Where is he?"

  "Daddy?"

  "Gerald?"

  "Oh, Gerald. He's not here."

  "He's not here? Where is he?"

  "He had . . . something to do," she said.

  "When will he be back?" Muna asked.

  "When? Ah . . . later, he'll be back later," Cessy said uncertainly.

  "Oh, well, we are sorry to miss him," she said.

  Cessy nodded politely and was momentarily grateful that Muna and Maloof did not know. Then she realized that keeping the truth from them was the same as lying. And the truth, she had already decided, was not that she was abandoned, but merely that her husband was temporarily absent.

  "When I awakened this morning, Gerald was gone," she said, her expression almost challenging.

  "Gone?"

  "Yes, he had already left for the day," Cessy told her.

  "Wherever did he go
?"

  "I have no idea," Cessy answered.

  "Oh, you poor thing," Muna wailed, coming forward to enfold her friend in a comforting embrace. "How could he do this? How could he . . ."

  "Do what?" Cessy asked. "Go about his business as any man would without mentioning what that business might be to his wife."

  "But what on earth . . ."

  "He is my husband, Muna," she said. "Yesterday you promised to try to like him for my sake. Now at the very first crossroad you are eager to believe the worst of him."

  Muna looked embarrassed. "I don't want to believe the worst of him, Prin," she insisted. "But I could never bear to see you hurt."

  "Your lack of faith in my husband hurts me as dearly as if you refused to believe in me myself."

  Muna sighed heavily and nodded, but she still looked very worried.

  "But where on earth can the man be?" she asked.

  "It is Monday," Maloof interjected. "He is gone to the work."

  Muna eyed him curiously.

  "What on earth are you talking about?" she asked him.

  "It is Monday," the young foreigner tried again. "He has job to go to on Monday."

  "Oh, Gerald doesn't work, Maloof," Cessy explained to him. "Not everyone in America has a job. Many men from wealthy families do not participate in business, they just pursue interests and avocations."

  Maloof listened to her thoughtfully, nodding as if he understood, but apparently he did not.

  "Tom has job," he assured her.

  "Maloof, his name is Gerald," Muna said patiently. "And he does not have any kind of job."

  "Gerald has job," he insisted, emphasizing the name. "On the wells of King Calhoun."

  The two women shared a momentary puzzled glance. Then Cessy began nodding with understanding.

  "Oh," she said to Maloof. "You mean that now that he's my husband, he will be working with my father."

  "Yes, of course that's what you mean," Muna agreed.

  "And you are undoubtedly right," Cessy told him. "Gerald probably will be a great help to my father. But first they have to meet each other."

  Maloof's expression was puzzled. He opened his mouth as if intending to say more, but Muna interrupted him.

  "First your husband has to return to you," she said.

  "Muna, Gerald has not left me," Cessy insisted. "He is simply not here right now. If you are my friend then you must learn to trust him and believe in him as I do."

  Muna didn't appear convinced, but she did have the good grace to change the subject.

  "So do you like the rug that Maloof picked out for you?" she asked.

  "It's perfect," Cessy assured Muna and then directed her words to Maloof. "It's a beautiful rug," she said. "And I know that Gerald will be equally as pleased with it."

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was barely half-past six when Tom slipped unnoticed through the sun parlor doorway as he had that morning. He had cleaned up and changed clothes in record-setting time. And he'd pushed a brisk pace from the Pusher's Camp in Topknot to residential Burford Corners. He was weary, worried, and anxious as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. His last day at work had not gone at all as he would have wished.

  Just after ten o'clock, the Sixteen, one of the wells upwind from the "P," hit a pocket of noxious fumes. Every man on the Topknot scrambled for safety. A similar blow had hit a well in Baston three years earlier. The bad air had killed five men, plus several horses, hogs, and chickens.

  Fortunately today none of the men were seriously poisoned, but many were sick and vomiting and the work stopped for hours as everyone waited at a safe distance for the wind to carry the dangerous gas away.

  Calhoun was on the scene within minutes and stayed all day. Fortunately most of the attention went to the Sixteen, but King consulted with Cedarleg several times. Each time he came over, Tom either wandered away or got busy with some task that

  required keeping his head down. He was very concerned that Cedarleg might try to introduce him. If Calhoun met him as Tom, all would be lost when he attempted to pass himself off as his son-in-law Gerald.

  With that in mind, toward midday, Tom approached Cedarleg and asked to leave.

  "It's my last day, and you're not going to need me for any work, so I might as well get on out of here and save Royal Oil the money they have to pay me for standing here."

  "You can hardly wait to see the last of us, eh?" Cedarleg said unkindly.

  "That's not it at all."

  "Well, you owe me a full day and I expect you to work it," the old man insisted. "If the wind comes up it'll blow that bad air out of here in no time and we'll be restarting the rig."

  Tom didn't argue. He stood around with the other men for most of the afternoon waiting for the wind to come up. It was time for Tom Walker to disappear. He wanted Tom to disappear.

  But he just couldn't, not yet.

  Gerald was his new life. Gerald was who he was going to be from here on out. But somehow he hated to leave Tom behind. Tom had made friends, found a trade he liked, and was loved by a smart and generous old cripple and his wife. But the necessity of being Gerald was the end of Tom's existence.

  "Cedarleg, I'm sorry about this morning," he said by way of apology. "Believe me, things are not at all the way you think them to be."

  "It don't matter to me a bit," he insisted, his chin up in challenge. "But you hurt Ma's feelings. I ain't so forgiving of that. I ain't so forgiving at all."

  Tom wasn't very forgiving of himself either. He had hurt Ma. It had seemed necessary at the time, but surely he could have planned better. He should have been able to see how things were going to turn out.

  But he hadn't. He'd simply done what was good for himself without thinking about what that meant for Ma and Cedarleg. And now they were paying for it with hurt feelings and broken hearts.

  The sun parlor was dim and fortunately empty. Tom walked through the house, listening for the sound of Cessy's voice. The place was extremely quiet, inordinately quiet. Almost as if there had been a death in the family.

  The parlors were all empty. Tom made his way upstairs. Cessy was not in her bedroom. He'd almost wished that she had been. He wished that she still lay warm and sweet as she had been when he'd left that morning. She'd undoubtedly been busy all day long. But she'd thought about him, after their night together, of that he was certain. Tom stowed his duffle beneath the bed, discarded his panama hat, and went to find his new bride.

  He walked through the empty, silent house, ill at ease. The place needed noise and laughter and, well, it needed children. Tom was surprised to find himself pleased by the prospect. A whole house full of bright and curious little faces, endless giggles and loud enthusiasm. The Walker children, all well-scrubbed, well-heeled and unfailingly well-mannered.

  Of course, they wouldn't be the Walker children, he remembered. They would be the Cranes, of the Bedlington, New Jersey Cranes. Tom's brow furrowed with displeasure at the thought. Then he determinedly pushed it away. They would be his children, his and Cessy's. It didn't matter what they were called or who they were thought to be related to, the children would eternally and inalterably belong to them.

  There was no china laid out in the dining room, but Tom heard the clatter of dishes in the kitchen and could smell dinner cooking. He had never been in that part of the house, but perhaps Cessy was there.

  He made his way down the back hall, past the washroom, and through a spring-hinged door.

  She was seated at a long table. A huge dishpan of fresh picked okra set in front of her. She was busily engaged in cutting, cleaning, and preparing it for the frying pan.

  She glanced up hurriedly and Tom was privileged to watch the most beautiful change of expression he had ever seen on a human face. Like the blooming of one of the flowers in her garden, the stern and determined visage was transformed into joyous happiness.

  "Gerald!" she called out to him, rising from her seat so hastily that the chair clattered unheeded to the floor.
r />   Cessy raced to him, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him to her tightly.

  Tom was delighted by the effusive greeting and a little embarrassed, as he noted the presence of the housekeeper and butler, by her obvious display of affection.

  "Where the devil have you been?" Mrs. Marin demanded.

  Tom, who had barely set eyes upon the woman the day before, was astonished at the vehemence in her tone.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Left the girl in the morning without so much as a by-your-leave and then waltz back in here as if it's nothing in the world!"

  "Mrs. Marin, please," Cessy scolded. "I told you he would be back."

  "Of course I'm back," Tom said, confused.

  "They—" Cessy said, indicating the servants. "They thought that you had abandoned me."

  Her statement was offered as a joke, but it was obviously not as far from the truth as she attempted to make it seem.

  "Abandoned?" Tom was incredulous. "Why, I would never . . . surely you know ..."

  "How are we supposed to know that?" Mrs. Marin asked. "Never even heard of you until a week ago, you run off and marry Miss Princess and then sneak out of here like a thief."

  "I didn't ..." Tom began to defend himself and then remembered that he did actually slip out unnoticed on purpose. "I didn't ... I didn't imagine that you would worry about me," he said finally. "I had some business to attend to today and I didn't want to wake you before I left."

  "I knew it was something like that," Cessy told him.

  "I never meant to worry you," he told her sincerely. "I am new to being a husband. It just didn't occur to me to say anything."

  Cessy nodded lovingly and hugged him tightly, obviously forgiving him completely.

  "You are just accustomed to doing things on your own. Now you know that when you leave without a word, your wife might worry."

  "Yes," he said. "I am sorry, Cessy."

  She smiled up at him. "We both must get used to our new roles. But the good thing is, we have the rest of our lives."