by Pamela Morsi
Yohan eyed her curiously. "A-doing what? Is that more than a father can ask?"
"Just watching him, Pa," Esme replied. "I just follow him around and watch him."
"Whatever for?"
"So I'll know him," she answered easily. Then she added, "And so he'll get used to seeing me around. He needs to get the idea to marry up with me. He ain't gonna get it if I ain't standing around getting his attention."
Her father had shaken his head in apparent defeat. "It sure ain't the way we was courting in my day."
Standing before Cleav's house this morning, Esme was pretty sure it wasn't the way they did courting now, either. But she didn't have any other ideas.
The front door opened and Cleav stepped across the threshold. His necktie was neatly knotted at his neck, and his coat was crisp, clean, and without wrinkles; he looked like the perfect man of business, as recognizable in Vader as in Knoxville or Richmond.
Preparing to follow him at a comfortable distance, Esme's eyes widened with concern as he headed straight toward her.
Since the afternoon by the pond she'd purposely kept her distance. Catching a husband was a lot like catching a chicken for Sunday dinner, she figured. Too quick a move would startle and scatter. That wonderful, dizzying, heaven-on-earth kiss they'd shared had been too quick a move. There was no way that she could take it back, and truth to tell, she would not want to if she could. Those few fleeting moments, enveloped in the warmth and feel of him, were relived nightly in her dreams. But he wanted her to stay away. So she had, far enough to let him lower his guard, but close enough to stay in his mind.
Now he walked straight toward her, his face as stern and sour as a preacher at a barn dance. "I'd like a word with you, Miss Crabb," Cleav said as he reached her side.
"I told you, you can call me Esme," she answered, deliberately making her smile bright and welcome.
He raised a critical eyebrow but didn't choose to argue. "Come along, Esme," he replied. "You can walk with me to the store."
Turning in that direction, Esme hurried her step alongside his. She was walking with him! The words sang through Esme's veins. He had considerably shortened his stride to match hers, though he kept his eyes straight ahead. But Esme could see the thoughtful expression on his face.
He was tall and stately beside her. And he smelled so good. It had never occurred to her that a man could smell so good. Pa certainly didn't.
She'd never walked with a man before, but walking with Cleavis Rhy was something that she wanted to do. She wished he'd take her arm, the way the courting couples and young marrieds walked from church. He didn't offer it, and Esme didn't have quite enough pluck to reach over and take it.
Cleav looked down at the woman's face, so eagerly turned up toward his. It was a comely face, handsome perhaps, but not truly pretty. Still, it had a great deal of appeal. And there was an interesting sparkle of intelligence behind those muddy blue eyes.
"I'd like to know what this is all about." His tone was excessively patient.
"What's what all about?"
He glanced down at her, a spark of annoyance clearly visible in his eyes. As she watched, he tamped it down, and after taking a deep breath, he continued with renewed composure.
"Miss Crabb, I realize that you are quite young and undoubtedly do not comprehend the social ramifications of your current course of actions."
Esme's smile brightened and her eyes widened in delight. "When you talk all pretty like that, Cleavis, why it sounds like a poem or some such."
His expression was stunned and confused. Thoughtfully he wet his lips. "I apologize," he said simply.
"Apologize?" Esme questioned with some confusion. "Well, why ever for?"
Cleav cleared his throat and raised his chin slightly and with intent. "The purpose of communication. Miss Esme, is to make oneself understood, not to entertain with flowery phrases."
A cheerful little giggle escaped her. "Oh, I understood you just fine," she assured him. "But I do love to hear that prissy talk."
"Prissy?" The word exploded from him like an expletive.
"Well, I didn't mean prissy, exactly." Esme immediately realized her mistake.
"You think I talk prissy?" His eyes were wide with horror.
"I ain't saying that you are prissy—"
"Why, thank you very much, Miss Crabb. I can assure you I will cherish your observation eternally."
They reached the porch of the store, and Esme stopped. Cleav stepped heavily toward the door and then turned back toward her.
"Let me speak plainly, Miss Crabb. And I hope this is not too prissy for you." His pale blue eyes flashed with fire. "Keep your snooping, spying eyes away from my door and your long, skinny legs out of my sight!"
Cleav jerked open the door of the store, walked inside, and slammed it behind him with a crash that startled the chickens peacefully roosting across the road.
Esme stood staring at the doorway for a minute, her brow wrinkled in concern. Slowly she smiled in satisfaction. With a burst of confidence she whispered to herself, "They may be long and skinny, but it's my legs you've been thinking about."
Burnt into the heavy slab of pine out in front of the town's largest white clapboard building were the words: "The First Free Will Baptist Church of Vader, Tennessee." Walking toward the church beside her father, with her sisters lagging behind, Esme smiled over the sign's pretense. It was not just the first Free Will Baptist Church of Vader, Tennessee. Truth to tell, it was the only church of any kind in this part of the mountains.
Esme had been attending every Sunday since the month she was born. And this Sunday, like every other, the Crabb family arrived late. The twins just couldn't seem to manage to get ready on time. Or maybe they liked making an entrance. Usually Esme didn't mind. She liked avoiding the before service gossip of dresses and beaux. But this morning she'd wanted to be there early. She'd wanted to watch Cleav, to find out what his Sunday mornings were like.
"We're a family and we'll attend as a family," her father had said firmly when she'd asked to go on ahead. She didn't mean to defy Pa, and he already didn't approve of her courting methods. She didn't want to give him a reason to interfere with her plans.
As they approached the door to the church, the sweet blend of voices raised in song drifted out to them. Pa opened the door and headed inside first, leading the way. Half the congregation turned to look at the sound of the door opening. The other half turned when Yo, an eager singer and lover of music, immediately added his strong baritone to the raised voices.
"I'm in the glory land way,
I'm in the glory land way.
Heaven is near and the way groweth clear,
For I'm in the glory land way."
Esme felt her cheeks brighten as she felt the perusal of the sixty-some-odd people congregated in the little church. Following her father, who was now clapping in time with the rousing hymn, Esme found a seat in the very back pew of the church. The Crabbs always sat at the back.
As soon as she was seated, Esme looked straight ahead to Brother Oswald. The red-faced, balding man stood behind the pulpit, his arm swinging rhythmically, encouraging the congregation in song. Esme didn't have much of a singing voice, not like Pa and the twins. But she managed to quietly move her lips to the words, giving the appearance of participating, as she listened to the twins' harmonious altos and her father's boisterous baritone.
The church was a straight square building, only one room with a raised platform across the front. The piano sat on the left, directly against the stage. When the twins were little, they had called it the "yellow church" because the walls were clear varnished knotty pine, and the white pine and spruce furnishings all appeared amazingly yellow when seen in the sunlight coming through the cheap borate glass windows.
As the last strains of song died away, Brother Oswald took the seat to the left of the raised platform, and Reverend Tewksbury, who had been seated at the right, took his place behind the pulpit. "Let us pray!" the man's v
oice boomed across the sanctuary as if the congregation were hard of hearing.
Esme bent her head piously and for a couple of moments gave her own silent prayer. Then stealthily she raised her head just enough to glance across the room.
Cleavis sat in his usual seat, second pew on the left, next to his mother. From the back, Esme could see the fine material of his Sunday dress suit. His dark brown hair was neatly trimmed at the nape of his neck. Beside him his mother was fashionably gowned in black silk, with a smart little hat tied neatly under her chin. Mrs. Rhy always dressed better than any woman in town. And not even the preacher had a store-bought dress coat as fine as Cleav's.
Unexpectedly her gaze continued past Cleavis to the young woman seated primly on the piano bench. Sophrona Tewksbury had removed her tiny little white bonnet and placed it beside her. Her dark, flame-colored hair was beautifully coiffed. Redheads look pasty and freckle too much, Esme silently reminded herself, though the pianist's fashionable hourglass figure was undoubtedly much admired by every gentleman of the congregation. Assessing the young woman's rigidly straight back, Esme was sure that Sophrona's waist must be no less than a foot and a half smaller than her bodice and hips!
"Only cows have bigger teats," Esme reminded herself unkindly. "And her backside is half bustle if I don't miss my guess!"
However, the beautiful plum brocade and satin gown she wore was not so easily waved away. Fine materials and Sophrona's skill as a seamstress enhanced her abundant assets.
Esme lowered her head again and studied the worn gray serge that covered her lap and limbs. She ran a hand along the material, testing its strength. There was little serviceability left in the fabric. And it hadn't helped that she'd worn this, her best dress, nearly every day since her decision to court Cleavis.
Clothes had never been an important item for Esme, and when dress material or hand-me-downs turned up at the house, she just naturally gave them to the twins. The two beauties loved pretty things, and a dress made for one fit perfectly enough to share with the other. Usually this pleased the economically minded Esme. Glancing over at her sisters today, one dressed in pink-dotted calico and the other in blue gingham, Esme wished that she'd thought of having something pretty for herself.
The "amen" was shouted and heads were raised. Esme couldn't keep her glance from seeking Cleav. She caught his eye and smiled sweetly. With an appalled expression he immediately turned his attention to the preacher.
Brother Oswald led another hymn and Esme kept her attention focused intently on Cleav. This time he never so much as twitched in her direction, but he knew Esme was looking at him, she decided. That was the only explanation for the bright red hue that crept down his neck. Esme hoped he was thinking about her skinny legs at that exact moment.
Reverend Tewksbury again walked to the pulpit and this time both Brother Oswald and Miss Sophrona moved to take seats in the congregation with their families.
The preacher waited. He stood, hands placed firmly on the sides of the lectern, taking stock of his congregation. Apparently, he liked what he saw, for he was smiling broadly.
Suddenly, startling the congregation, he boomed, “David was beloved of God!"
"Amen." The chorus of agreement came from several corners of the house.
"David was a man after God's own heart, the Bible tells us. Shouldn't we be striving after God's own heart?"
With more "amens" Esme's mind began to wander. Her gaze fixed on Cleavis Rhy's broad shoulders. Vaguely she heard the Reverend Tewksbury giving a quick reminder of the rise of David from shepherd to king. She knew the story well, so she allowed herself the luxury of inattention.
She decided that, so far, her plan was working well. Cleav had her in his thoughts quite often. He'd even been looking at her in church. For her next move she decided that she should make herself invaluable to Cleav. He worked too hard. A man of business needed help in the store, and a wife would be expected to do her share. Over the past days Esme had watched and learned in her hours of leisure at the General Merchandise. Next week she would show off her quick study and her willingness to help.
It was only when the preacher began reading from the Psalms that Esme's attention turned from Cleav's handsome profile to the pulpit before her.
"'For he shall deliver the needy when he crieth; the poor, also, and him that hath no helper.'"
Esme felt, rather than saw, the covert glances that turned her way.
"He shall spare the poor and needy, that's what David tells us," Reverend Tewksbury told the crowd. "And that is just what the women of our Ladies' Auxiliary have decided to do."
A pleased murmur went through the congregation, and several of the prominent members of the Ladies' Auxiliary modestly shook their heads at the unspoken compliment. Esme saw Pearly Beachum reach across the aisle to take Miss Sophrona's hand, giving it a grateful and appreciative squeeze.
"Oh, no," Esme breathed the prayer desperately through her lips. "Not here! Not now! Oh, please not today!"
The preacher was beaming broadly now.
"Yohan, can you and your girls come up to the front," he asked with a beckoning gesture.
Pa rose to his feet, obviously surprised but delighted. The twins were blushing and giggling at the attention.
Esme thought she might be ill.
"Come on, girlies," Yo said to them, loud enough for the whole congregation to hear. "Looks like the preacher's found a way to make Christmas come in the springtime."
The congregation chuckled good-naturedly. Esme, following trancelike, walked with her family to the front of the church. She forced herself to turn and face the crowd when she reached the preacher, but she kept her eyes steadfastly set against the knotty pine wall on the left side of the church.
"Amens" were being spoken all around. Clearly the congregation was delighted at this evidence of their own goodness.
Yohan was expansive as he shook the preacher's hand and then stepped forward to clasp the hands of the deacons in the front row.
"Lord knows," he told the crowd jokingly. "If I'd imagined something like this, I'd a put on my better shirt."
His humor brought out a titter. But the room quieted as Reverend Tewksbury cleared his throat, signaling a more serious turn of events. The preacher waited, drawing out the drama of the moment. The seconds that ticked by seemed like hours.
Esme quickly glanced at her sisters. The pretty twins had locked arms and were blushing and giggling behind their hands. Looking past them, she saw her father, who continued smiling like the village idiot.
Despite the bombardment of feeling that pounded in her brain and into her heart, Esme raised her chin. With deliberate calmness she stared sightlessly before her.
I'm smart and strong and as good as any of them! she declared silently. No one can shame me but myself.
Bending down behind the piano, the preacher pulled out a big three-bushel basket and held it up before the crowd.
"Looky-here what we got, brothers and sisters," he said with obvious pride.
The large basket was filled to the brim, and the sweat popped out on the preacher's forehead with the strain of lifting it. Peeking out the top was a great, big, sweet-smelling smoked ham.
"Look what the good ladies have come up with for you, Brother Yo," the preacher said. "Here's a baker's dozen of jars of the finest fruits and vegetables our ladies can put by."
He held up a couple of jars to show the congregation.
The members clapped with enthusiasm.
"And here's a twenty-pound sack of flour. And soap— heaven knows we can all use our share of that," the preacher continued with a big smile and a playful poke at Yo's ribs.
"Looks to be some fine yard goods in here, girls." He addressed this comment to the giggling twins, who were now hiding their pretty pink faces.
''And there's a couple of hams and a slab of bacon to get you through till spring comes down."
"Amen!" Yo said gratefully, thanking the congregation as the preacher hande
d him the basket.
"Brother Yo," the reverend began. "David said that the Lord upholdeth all that fall and raiseth up all those that be bowed down."
Yohan smiled broadly at first the pastor and then the congregation.
"I suspect," the preacher continued, "that there is none in our community, none in our church, so bowed down as you and your little girls."
Murmurs of agreement were churchwide.
"This late in the winter, Brother Yo, the ladies thought you-all'd be low on vittles. David tells us that the Lord givest them in due season. So this ham and the rest is yours."
Resounding "amens" and even a couple of "hallelujahs" were heard as the Crabb family stood in the front of the church publicly and subserviently accepting the charity of the congregation.
Esme struggled to keep her eyes unfocused, gazing sightlessly over the heads of the people so willingly doing their Christian duty.
Unerringly, however, her glance was drawn from its secret refuge to a pair of blue eyes on the left side, second pew.
Cleavis Rhy was looking straight at her. What she saw in his face was understanding.
Chapter Five
“I declare it feels like spring to me!" Reverend Tewksbury announced conversationally.
"Trees are beginning to bud," Cleav admitted. "I hope a late frost isn't going to disappoint us all."
The women quietly added their own agreement to the thought.
The afternoon sun warmed the wide hardwood porch that so gracefully adorned the big white house. These five well-fed, well-clothed citizens of Vader, Tennessee, sat idly on the day of rest passing the time in pleasant conversation.
Reverend Tewksbury was a short, round little man, nearly as wide as he was tall. His sparse hair was a mix of bright carrot and glistening silver. He had an easy smile and sparkling green eyes that could be warm as June or freeze a body in place when he got wound up on hellfire and damnation.
"I truly enjoyed your sermon today, Pastor," Eula Rhy said as she rocked contentedly in her cane-seat chair.