BACK TO MEADOWBROOK – a Free Short Story

Coming home from college, with finals finally over and graduation past, Hannah Stuart was amazed at how much the Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg area had grown since her childhood and even since her last visit. It seemed like every year brought more changes and more and more tourism. However, as she traveled up Highway 321 out of Gatlinburg, the heavy traffic congestion gradually diminished with green trees and mountain views beginning to greet her. She passed the roads to Greenbrier and Pittman Center and then watched for the familiar turn leading down a side road to Meadowbrook, the rural country home where she’d grown up.

As Hannah turned by the mailbox, she spotted Megan sitting on top of the fence and waving to her. Hannah pulled over with a smile. “What are you doing out here?” she asked.

“Waiting for you.” Her sister grinned. “You called Mom and Dad, when you turned off the interstate heading toward Gatlinburg, so I knew it wouldn’t be long until you got here.”

Hannah pulled her Honda to the side of the road to let Megan climb in, reaching over to give her a hug. “You’re wearing your new uniform and look very professional,” she said, studying Megan’s short-sleeved khaki shirt tucked into neat pants, a park ranger’s hat on her head.

Megan grinned. “I just got off work and I wanted you to see my official look as a Smoky Mountains park ranger intern. I’m working on the trails and in the visitor center helping with tourist traffic and answering questions.

“It’s what you’ve wanted to do since you went to one of those Tremont camps one summer and got to meet and work with several park rangers.”

“Yes. It’s hard work, but I’m loving it,” Megan said, pulling off her hat to show more of her sun-touched blond hair and reminding Hannah of dozens of photos of all the Stuart kids, all six of them blonds. Hannah, the oldest, had light blond hair and a more peaches and cream complexion than Megan’s, but since childhood, they’d all been fair-haired.

As old memories swept back, Hannah turned off the car’s motor and looked down the long lane toward their rural county home. “I still remember the day we all came here with Alice Graham to live, don’t you? We were so excited to be coming to a bigger place after all six of us had been scrunched into those two small upstairs bedrooms in Alice’s little Sevierville house.”

Megan smiled, also remembering. “We were all scared, then, too, afraid Alice wouldn’t continue to foster all six of us, worried we’d be split up. We were still grieving, too, over losing mother and daddy in that awful car wreck. It was such a frightening time for us. We’d been such a happy family before. You were the oldest, only twelve, me just ten, Stacey eight, Rachel seven, and the twins Thomas and Tildy barely five. It was a lot for anybody to consider taking on six kids.”

“But Alice Graham did it. We were blessed.” Hannah smiled and shook her head at the memory. “Watching how wonderful she was helping children and families as a social worker is what made me want to be a counselor, too.”

“Yes, and you just got your degree in social work a few weeks ago at Asbury College.” Megan laughed. “Weren’t we lucky, too, that Harrison Ramsey, who owned the big stable and home down the road from us, fell in love with Alice and married her, so we got Harrison for a new dad, too.”

“Yes, and it’s hard to realize we’re all nearly all grown now, except for William Taylor who came after Alice and Harrison married. I think he looks more like Harrison every year, too, don’t you?”

“He does, but Harrison doesn’t love William any more than the rest of us.” Megan paused, changing the subject then. “Look. I know Harrison came to Asbury and talked you into finishing college this spring when Brandon broke up with you and you wanted to quit school. That was a bad time for you. Are you doing better now?”

Hannah looked away, feeling tears start to seep down her face. “It still hurts to think about it, Megan, and it hurt every time I saw Brandon around campus before school ended. I tried to avoid him but of course I couldn’t. We met in our first year in school, became friends and then more. We had so many plans for our future. I can’t understand how Brandon could just meet someone else and fall in love with them more than with me.”

Megan leaned toward her. “If he could do that, Hannah, he wasn’t the right one for you. Odell said God was looking out for you to not let you marry anyone who wouldn’t be faithful and true and love you like he should.”

Hannah wiped her face. “Well, it is what it is. I sometimes thought I would die from the hurt, but I didn’t, and now I don’t even know what I’m going to do this summer since I graduated. I think everyone is working or busy with something this summer except for me.”

“You know it’s always been that way. Harrison thinks hard work and being active is healthy.” Megan grinned. “We always had to work or do camps or stay busy with our summer vacations. I’m interning this summer, which is great for me since I’m studying to be a park ranger at UT. Stacey and Rachel are both working retail for Maureen Cross at the Crosswalk Crafters Shop in Laurel Village Mall in Gatlinburg, now that they’re both over sixteen. You know Stacey wants to have her own shop someday. She already has all sorts of plans for it and she’ll probably do it. You know how strong-willed she is.”

“Yes. I remember.” Hannah laughed.

“The twins, Thomas and Tildy, are going to Buckeye Knob Camp in Wears Valley as CITs or Counselors in Training – like junior counselors – this summer. They’re so excited. They’ve both always loved camp there, like we did, and William Taylor who is eight, going on nine, will be going to camp this year. It will be a little quiet around the house during the days.”

“I’m sure I can help O’Dell with the house and the cooking. She’s getting older.” Hannah started the car back up. “Speaking of cooking, I’m sure Odell McKee will be getting supper ready and everyone else will be looking for me.”

“Yes, and Harrison is even churning homemade ice cream after dinner because he knows you love it.”

The words lifted her heart as she drove down the road to the big two-storied country home with its black shutters and door and a welcome profusion of flowers all around the house. Hannah knew she was loved here, despite her failed relationship with Brandon. When Harrison drove to Kentucky, to make it clear she wouldn’t be dropping out of school, he’d said, “The heart survives being hurt in love, Hannah. It isn’t fatal. It just feels like it.” He’d grinned at her after those words. “if anyone should know that, it’s me, Hannah Stuart. I had one broken engagement where the girl sent my engagement ring back to me in the mail and then, as you should recall, another woman stood me up at the church alter on our wedding day. As you can see I didn’t die and neither will you. Give the rest of this semester your best, despite that young man’s actions. Think of it like giving him a black eye to show him you’ll move on with a smile and be better without him.”

It was hard advice to follow, but she’d tried to keep Harrison’s words in mind, and thankfully she was moving on now. At least she wouldn’t have to watch him laughing and holding hands with Sharon Jean Gentry everywhere she went.

Dinner was a happy occasion that night. Alice swung her around in a big hug and all the family shared happy stories and laughs at the dinner table. It still felt odd sometimes to look around to see them all nearly grown except for Thomas, Tildy, and Will. But no one was too grown up not to play bingo this Friday night to celebrate her homecoming, and of course Alice had prizes for the winner and they all went outside to the back porch and yard to eat homemade ice cream after.

While sitting on the back porch, Alice caught her up on local news, also telling Hannah about some of her current cases for the Wayside Agency where she worked as a social worker with foster children.

“I wish there was something I could do to help at Wayside this summer,” Hannah said.

Harrison leaned forward. “You’ll be busy enough working for me at the Ramsey Stable this summer. I’m short-handed, with Deke moving on to work in the new woodworking shop with his uncle. It’s a good opportunity for him and it gives him a place to sell his own pieces. He and his wife have two children now to raise, and his woodworking gift deserves more recognition.”

Alice smiled, tucking a stray strand of her blond hair into the French braid behind her head. “I hope you won’t mind taking people out on trail rides and helping around the stable until Harrison finds another stable manager. It’s work you know, and Harrison really needs the help right now. This opportunity for Deke opened up unexpectedly, leaving your father short-handed right as the busy season at the stable kicks in.”

“I’ll be glad to help,” Hannah said and she did mean it. She’d always loved being at the stables, riding, and working around the horses since they first moved here, the Ramsey Stables practically next door to their home.

“Hard work is good therapy, too, good for body and soul.” Harrison added. “You’ve been telling us a lot about the value of equine therapy and about some of those classes you took and the therapy centers you visited that put handicapped or troubled kids on horses to help them. You said the research shows it helps process trauma, builds emotional resilience and trust after difficult emotional situations.” He grinned widely at her then. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Maybe it’ll help you perk up, too.”

Hannah knew he teased her, knowing she still felt a little down in spirit, and she tried to give him a saucy grin back. “Maybe it will. I’ll let you know how it works out.”

Alice made a face and shook her head. “Riding may be therapeutic, Harrison, but I hardly see how cleaning out stalls or clearing trails will be emotionally healing.”

“You never can tell,” he said.

On Monday, after breakfast Hannah pulled her hair up in a ponytail, slid into a pair of old, worn jeans, a Ramsay Stable T-shirt, and her riding boots and headed for the stable. The half mile walk took her across the creek on a small bridge and by the old Ramsey barns and farmhouse, before arriving at the stable. She smiled to see some of the trail horses already saddled and waiting for the first trail ride of the day.

“Howdy-do, young lady,” said Hobart Rayfield from an old caned chair by the barn, where he sat drinking coffee from a battered tin mug. “I haven’t seen you here for a while, but Harrison said you were going to work here this summer and help us out since we don’t have Deke full time now.”

“With college finished, I needed a summer job,” she said. “What do you need me to do today?’

“Help saddle the rest of these horses,” answered a young man in another Ramsey shirt and jeans, as he walked out from the barn leading a pinto mare. “We have a big group starting at ten from a camp down the road. We’ll both need to ride with them, the kids a mixed group of boys and girls about nine to ten in age.”

Hobart smiled at Hannah. “I guess you remember my nephew Josh Sheldon since you rode with him and worked alongside him enough as a kid. He’s helping out this summer, too.”

Hannah’s eyes moved over Josh as he tied the pinto with the line of horses at the fence, still tall and good looking with broad shoulders, his dark hair too long, as usual. She turned her eyes away, trying not to focus too much on Josh and stir up a few memories more than friendship. She headed for the barn.

“Get that dark mare with the blaze, called Annie,” Josh directed. “Harrison says she’s a good, reliable horse to follow in a trail ride. I’ll ride Jasper and lead and you can follow on Annie.” He trailed her into the barn, going to a stall to open it and start bridling another horse.

Hannah frowned, feeling surly to hear him giving her orders like a stable hand. “I thought you were working as an assistant stable manager or something with one of those big Kentucky horse farms,” she said. “I think mother mentioned last year you’d moved up there after you graduated college in Equine Business Management or something.”

“I did take a job up there,” he answered from inside the stall. “They liked me well enough, but I didn’t like the job. Working with racing thoroughbreds is a different type of business, the emphasis always on competing and winning. Tempers often testy. Money, greed, and high living a little overemphasized for me. At least it was where I worked. Uncle Hobart called and told me about Deke leaving so I’m working here for the summer and looking around to see what else I might find that suits me more.”

As they both led another trail horse out, bridled and saddled, to the fence rail, Hobart said, “We’ve been lucky to get Josh down here to manage, filling in for Deke, and now we’re blessed to get you to work here, too. It’s always hard to find experienced stable hands. I can ride trail when I need to but I’m better suited to stick around the barn, setting things up, taking calls, doing what needs to be done here. We had another boy helping Deke back in the spring, but he’s moved on. It’s hard to get good help.”

Josh and Hannah talked a little, but not much, around getting the other horses ready for the ride. They were taking nine riders out today, one a camp counselor. As they arrived, Hannah listened to Josh give them the trail talk, clear and well-delivered to set the rules. He asked about their riding experience, and Hobart helped him match the horses to their level of skill as well as they could. Hannah handed out helmets to all the kids and helped several to mount correctly, and then they headed out, the group’s camp counselor about midway along the string of riders.

Although Hannah often rode horseback when she came home from college, she hadn’t ridden trail like this in several years, but the ease and remembrance of it came back quickly. She found herself relaxing on the quiet of the trail, enjoying the sounds of birds, the scampering of wildlife among the trees, listening to the questions of the kids and the soft sounds of the horses. It was therapeutic and Hannah found herself relaxing. This was the stable’s standard two-hour trail ride, looping up one side of the mountain, crossing over it, and then riding downhill on the other side to connect back to the stables.

The rest of the day was full of stable chores, horse care, property tasks like weed-eating around fencing in the pasture, and two more trail rides after lunch before the stable closed at four. The routine of the days to come was similar, Harrison filling in on the days when she or Josh were off.

As time moved on into June, Hannah quickly adjusted to riding almost daily and working at the stables again. It quieted her after the stressful spring she’d gone through, and being around Josh grew easier. He soon returned to his old teasing and fun-loving self she remembered. He’d always made her laugh; his ease a good contrast to her more sensitive and emotional nature. When out riding the trails by themselves to check for fallen trees, brush, rocks on the path, or other problems, they talked while they worked. They chatted about school, work, goals, family, books they’d read, movies they’d seen, the stable horses, funny memories, the aspects of nature all around them.

“You sure are easy to get along with,” Josh said to her one day when they’d stopped to clean around an old cemetery and then sat down on a log to rest. “I remember we used to date back in the past and it was good.” He grinned and winked at her. “Why did we break up anyway?”

“We didn’t break up. We were never really going together to officially break up.”

He scratched his head. “Well, I remember you said we should see other people.”

She gave him a saucy look. “Funny, I remember you saying that, too, when neither of us were going out with anybody else.”

Josh thought back and then shrugged a little sheepishly. “Well, you were a really nice girl and a lot of the guys were having some adventures with girls that sounded kind of intriguing. I didn’t want to miss out on that aspect of my education, so maybe that’s why I suggested we see other people.”

She crossed her arms, annoyed now. “So, you really wanted liberty to experiment around. Is that right?”

Josh laughed. “Come on. I was a kid with raging young hormones. I loved my experimenting with you but I knew I couldn’t take it any further.” Seeing her bristle at that remark, he added, “Besides, when we both headed for college, you said we should branch out and see other people there. It wasn’t just me, Hannah Stuart. We were kids. Didn’t you enjoy dating other guys in high school and college? We didn’t need to be tied to each other from the time we were twelve and thirteen. That’s too young to be sure.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “Did you have adventures with some of those women along the way?”

He looked a little shocked at her question. “Let’s just say I had a lot of fun meeting a lot of different girls and learning about them along the way.”

Hannah looked down at her lap. “Did you ever fall in love with any of them?”

“I guess I thought I did a few times, but most all my relationships crashed and burned in time. Either they dumped me and moved on or I changed, found we didn’t really suit any more, and I moved on. I never got into anything too serious, did you?”

She looked away. “I thought I did,” she answered in a quiet voice. “I got serious about someone for a long time in college, thought he would be part of my future, but I guess, like you said, he decided I didn’t suit any more, and he moved on to someone else.”

“Was that recent?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Well, come on. You have to get back up on the horse again after you fall off. You know that.” He leaned closer. “Have you kissed anyone since you broke up?”

She looked away, shocked, and shook her head.

“Well, that’s a mistake. Let’s fix that right now.” He leaned over and kissed her, pulling her closer and showing her well that he’d learned a lot more about kissing than in those young school days.

Her eyes widened, as he pulled away to look at her. “See? Isn’t it better when you remember how good kissing is rather than remembering hurt attached to it? Life’s too good not to savor and enjoy Hannah.” He winked at her. “You kiss a lot better than when we were kids, too, I can tell you that.”

She giggled. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“Well, then, let’s do it again.”

They experimented kissing a little more, laughing and making jokes, but then realized their heartbeats were kicking up and the moment was growing more heated.

Josh stood and reached down to take her hand. “Those hormones sure do have a sweet way of kicking up sometimes. But I need to be careful not to let the boss catch me kissing on his daughter. I might lose my job.”

“Do you think Harrison would care?” Hannah asked.

“I’d say he would if it was more than kissing. I’m not sure about anything else.” They mounted up to head back to the stables.

Off and on over the summer, Hannah and Josh took some moments to enjoy the little flirtation that had started that day on the trail. Hannah wasn’t sure if it was anything else but a flirtation, but she knew Brandon had receded from her mind, except as a memory, the thought of him no longer painful. If she dreamed now, it was of Josh. She could feel his attraction, often saw him watching her, liked the times when he moved close to her when no one was around just to be near her, to run a hand down her arm, or to brush her hair out of her face. What was developing between them was sweet, but Hannah didn’t know if it would grow further. And Josh hadn’t put any words to his feelings.

Hannah didn’t talk to any of her family about her changing friendship with Josh. In the evenings she enjoyed time with her family, laughing with them about work experiences, watching movies or playing games on the weekends, going shopping or to the pool or mountains. Megan told funny stories about the tourists she encountered at the Visitor Center and Stacy was full of stories about Maureen’s shop in Gatlinburg and about her and Rachel’s adventures.

Occasionally, she saw Hobart or Harrison watch the two of them thoughtfully. They were the ones who saw her and Josh together most often, but the most Hobart ever said was, “It seems like the two of you have become right good friends again. You always did get on well.” He’d laughed then. “I remember when that Vance Palmer was pushing on you, Hannah, back in your young days, and Josh here fought him and blacked his eye for it.”

Josh laughed. “I remember that, too.” He looked at Hannah. “Vance Palmer hasn’t been giving you any more trouble has he?”

Surprised, she said, “No, I haven’t even seen him at the market since I’ve been home. Only his parents. I think I heard Stacey’s friend Laura Sue say he got married. Lives in Knoxville now or something.”

Later, Josh told her, “When I heard Vance had pushed on you and kissed you when you didn’t want him to, it was one of the first times I realized I liked you a little more than I thought. I went over and gave him what for and he left you alone after that.”

Hannah remembered that time, too, pleased Josh would stand up for her. How young they were then. And yet in many ways the same.

As July faded with August on the horizon, Hannah realized she’d done little about thinking ahead about her life. In talking to Alice, she clarified that in order to practice as a professional counselor, like Alice did for the Wayside Agency, she’d need to get her masters in counseling. With a little internet research, she’d learned nearby Carson Newman University had a Master of Science in Counseling program. She could commute to prepare for the coursework, credentials, and the state licensure she would need to practice. Hannah knew she’d like doing work like Alice did or working in a similar area. However, she knew she hesitated about any permanent plans because she didn’t know what Josh would do in the fall. Had he even been looking for a job? He only vaguely talked about it. The subject was one they both tiptoed around.

Summer camps and summer jobs were nearing the end for everyone as August settled in. Tildy and Thomas were back home, Stacy and Rachel talking about their upcoming year in high school, Megan soon heading back to the University of Tennessee and the apartment she shared with another girl in her program. Even Will was excited about heading back to school and wondering who his teacher would be in fourth grade.

While checking out the trails together the next day, Josh said casually, “I’ve had a management job offer at another Kentucky stable.”

“Is that right?” Hannah said, trying to squash down the tumble of emotions his words brought.

“it’s another thoroughbred stable but I think their operation is more low-key, their methods and practices not pursued as aggressively as the other stable where I worked. I’ve talked to some people. Their training and breeding practices are all handled more ethically, too. That matters to me.” He talked more about the job, about some of the champions the stable had produced, its reputation, the salary and responsibilities he’d carry.

Hannah felt like weeping as she listened. She knew she’d allowed her feelings for Josh to grow far beyond friendship. But what could she say? He’d never declared any feelings to her or laid out any plans for a future with her.

After a time, he said, “I guess you’ve got some plans made, too.  I think you said you might get your masters so you could go into professional practice in a position like Alice’s.”

Biting back her emotions and struggling not to make a fool of herself, Hannah said, “Yes. Alice and Harrison have encouraged me in that. Several schools have the graduate program I need. Carson Newman in Jefferson City is a nice small school, like I especially enjoy, and it has a good program with a Master of Science in Counseling. I could commute there with the college only about forty-five minutes away or I might connect with someone in the program to get an apartment near the campus. Megan does that at UT, where she’s studying in Outdoor Recreation and Park Management to be a park ranger.” She forced a smile. “I’m sure something will work out.” The fact that she hadn’t even applied to the program by this time was stupid, but she didn’t mention that.

“Summers end and real life goes on, doesn’t it?” Josh said in an odd tone.

Hannah couldn’t think of a response to make and only nodded, but she cried herself to sleep that night. How foolish she’d been to fall for someone again who didn’t want a life with her. Why did she let herself get into these situations?

It stormed heavily for the next two days, cancelling any trail rides scheduled.  Harrison closed the stable in bad weather like this, although he or Hobart came in to feed and check on the horses, of course.

The following Monday, Harrison sent Josh and Hannah out to check trails, knowing there would be branches down, muddy areas to note, trail problems to look for. Josh and Hannah were both quiet riding up the wet trails, stopping as they needed to in order to move fallen branches off the trail or to look for other problems. As they crossed over a ridge trail, the rain hit again in a torrent. Josh hollered to her to head to the old Ramsey cabin nearby for shelter. They’d thrown on ponchos but were still partially drenched when they got to the cabin and tied their horses inside the covered shed beside it.

After racing inside, they pulled off their wet ponchos and soaked boots, finding some old towels in a cabinet to dry off with. The Ramsey family kept the old cabin partly furnished, as in the early settlers’ days, as an interesting place for trail riders to stop and explore and take a break from the saddle.

“Gosh, I’m soaked,” Josh said. “And so are you.” He helped her dry off and she did the same for him as they laughed about their situation.

It broke the tension that had been between them. Avoiding the old bed in the cabin, they sat down on a wooden bench, propping their feet on a battered trunk.

They were quiet for a few minutes then, listening to the ongoing rain pound down on the cabin’s metal roof and listening to the thunder rumbling overhead. It was dark in the room, too, with the rain storm not letting much sunlight into the cabin.

Josh cleared his throat. “I’d like to say here in the dark I’ll miss you, Hannah Stuart,” he said in a low voice. He reached out to take her hand. “Will you miss me, too?”

“Yes,” she whispered, trying not to cry.

“I have another job opportunity on the table I want to tell you about,” he said. “Harrison has offered me the job as the stable manager for the Ramsey Stable. He has a much bigger enterprise and operation than I realized with the market, rental cabins, land he leases out to farmers and family money that has grown. The salary he offered is good one and he told me I can have the Ramsey farmhouse as part of the job offer, the house where Deke used to live. It’s where Harrison grew up and where he lived before he married Alice. It’s a really nice place and a big home. I know you’re familiar with it.”

“Would you want to take that job?” Hannah asked, trying not to let him hear the hope in her voice, trying to sound neutral.

He took a deep breath. “I’d only want to take it if the girl I’ve fallen in love with would marry me and live in that house with me and help me fill up those empty bedrooms with some kids.” He turned to her in the darkness and put his hands on her face. “That’s you I’ve fallen in love with Hannah Stuart. It happened little by little, creeping up on me, or maybe I’ve loved you since I was thirteen and I beat up Vance Palmer for kissing you when you didn’t want him to. I kept hoping all summer I’d know somehow if you loved me, too, but somehow we never talked about it. I don’t know why when it’s so good between us as sweethearts and as friends. You’re like my other half now, Hannah. I can’t stay if you don’t love me, too, even if I’d like to. You’ve kind of stolen my heart and I didn’t think I’d ever say that to anyone. But here I am doing it.”

A moment of quiet passed, Hannah afraid she’d start crying if she said anything. Josh loved her, and he’d told her he did. It was like a fairytale moment.

Hannah found her voice then. “I love you, too, Josh Sheldon. I’ve been crying myself to sleep knowing you were leaving at the end of summer to take that new job in Kentucky and knowing I’d fallen in love with you. But I was afraid to tell you because you’d never said any words like these to me.”

“And you’ll be happy to marry me and live at Harrison’s farmhouse with me and make that our home? It’s a wonderful old house. I’ve always liked it.”

Hannah started crying then. She couldn’t help it.

“Why are you crying, Hannah? Are you not happy?”

“No, I’m wonderfully, gloriously happy. That’s why I’m crying.” She leaned closer in the darkness. “Please tell me you love me again, Josh, and kiss me long and hard, too.”

“I do love you Hannah Stuart and you’ll be hearing those words over and over all our lives together. I promise you we’ll be happy. You can still drive over to get your degree. I know you’ll be a wonderful counselor but I’ll want you to help me with the stables when you can, too. I love riding with you, working with you, just being with you.”

Hannah interrupted him to find his mouth in the dark and kiss him. “Do you think your Uncle Hobart and Harrison will be happy about this?”

Josh laughed. “I think they set us up for this just like they did back when we were twelve and thirteen. So, I imagine they’ll be two smug old matchmakers.”

“Well, then, we’ll name our first two boys after them,” she said giggling.

And, actually, they did.

__________________________________________________________________

To read more about how Hannah and Josh first met … and about how the six Stuart children first came to Meadowbrook with Alice Graham, read my novel FOR SIX GOOD REASONS, a favorite in in the beloved Smoky Mountain books, each set in a different place around the Great Smoky Mountains.

 

 

TWO OF ME – A free story

            The last days of the school year were always busy, even for the school librarian, and filled with an assortment of end of the year problems. Lena stood talking to one of St. Andrews’ students at the library desk about one of these today.

“I did check out that book, Ms. Bennett, but I brought it back,” Stacy Clark insisted. “Honest, I did.”

Lena kept her patient smile in place. “Stacy, the book did not get checked back in. The school’s policy is that final grades are held until any library books are returned or paid for in full if lost.”

“Well, the book isn’t lost because my friend Merna borrowed it after I read it.” She paused, her eyes widening. “Oh, my gosh, I’ll bet Merna still has it. She said she would bring it back for me. Can you see if she brought it back?”

“It hasn’t been checked back in by anyone,” Lena answered. “Why don’t you talk to Merna, check both your rooms and see if you can locate the book?”

Stacy sighed. “Okay. We’ll both look tonight. Merna is always forgetting stuff. She probably has it.” Waving at a friend she turned to leave.

“If you find it, bring it by tomorrow,” Lena reminded her. “Otherwise, you’ll need to pay for it.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem fair we have to buy a book if it gets lost,” Stacy grumbled as she walked away.

Lena had heard this and a multitude of other complaints and reasonings all week since end-of-year emails went out to all the students.

Her assistant librarian, Carol Wallace, laughed as Stacy left. “I think that girl loses a book every year.”

“I’m glad she likes to read and checks out books, but she does tend to forget to bring them back.” Lena frowned. “I hate that students have to pay for lost books but you know our budget doesn’t have much excess.”

“Most all libraries have that policy, Lena,” Carol reasoned. “And if you’ll remember, Stacy usually finds her lost books and gets them back to us.” She glanced at the clock. “It’s 3:30 going on four now. If you want to leave, I’ll finish checking in these last books. I’m doing a student tutoring session so I need to stay late anyway.”

“Thanks,” Lena said, heading back to her office to get her purse, belongings, and some paperwork to look through. As she came back with her car keys in hand, Carol leaned toward her and said quietly, “Do you know that woman in the doorway looking around? She really looks like you, doesn’t she?”

Glancing toward the door, Lena locked eyes with the woman standing there. She felt sure her mouth dropped open when she did. The woman did look like her.

Carol grinned. “I’ve always read everyone has a twin somewhere. This one must be yours. At first I actually thought it was you.”

The woman walked toward them now, almost a replica of Lena in height and weight, her hair the same dark brunette, almost black, cut in a similar pageboy to shoulder length, even her eyes the same gray-blue. At the library desk the woman paused, looking directly at Lena and putting a hand to her heart. “Are you Lena Barrett?” she asked.

Lena nodded.

The woman took a breath. “I’m Jeanine Vinson. I hate to intrude during the school day, but I believe we might be related and I came to speak with you.” She glanced around. “Is there some place where we might talk for a minute?”

Seeing Carol’s continued interest, Lena said, “I was just leaving for the day, but if it’s okay with you, there’s a nice picnic table under the shade trees near the parking lot. Perhaps we can talk there for a few minutes. It’s a pretty afternoon.”

“Oh, that would be nice.” The woman replied, seeming relieved at the idea.

“Just follow me out,” Lena said. She turned to Carol. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for closing.”

As the two women settled across from each other at the picnic table a few minutes later, Jeanine offered Lena another polite smile, looking around. “This is a beautiful school tucked away in the mountains near the University of the South at Sewanee. Like the college, it has a beautiful campus with glorious old European architecture, too.”

“It was once a military academy when the university opened, transitioning into a boys’ school and then merging with the girls’ school operated by the Episcopal sisters of St. Mary’s,” Lena said, talking casually to ease Jeanine’s obvious discomfort. “The school became the St. Andrews Sewanee School after the merger in 1981. On 500 acres, it is still known as one of the oldest Episcopal boarding schools in the U.S. We’re also still very linked to the college. I’ve always loved it here but then I love the mountains, and I like living away from the city. Not everyone does but it suits me.”

“Yes, I know that feeling” Jeanine paused and then took a deep breath. “I should not be here without having written or called you to see if you would agree to meet with me. When I was searching for you and the court helped me find you, they gave me your address and phone number and said I could reach out to determine if you wanted to meet.” She made a face. “I kept meaning to call or write and follow those instructions, but then I did some internet searching, saw where you lived, found where you worked, and on impulse I just got in the car and drove here today.” She leaned forward. “I just knew if I found you, I’d know.”

Lena, listening all this time, finally asked, “I’m not sure I’m following this, Jeanine. What did you think you would know when we met?”

She looked surprised. “That we’re twins. Identical twins. Separated at birth, adopted by two different families, but twins.”

Lena shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I think you have some mistaken information. My parents were told I was a twin but were told my other sister died at birth. So, it seems you might have reached out to the wrong person inadvertently.”

“No,” Jeanine insisted. “I have the right person and the paperwork and documentation to prove it that the court provided. We were both born May 7^th, the same year, to the same mother, at the same time at the same hospital in Lenoir City, Tennessee. Our mother was unwed and afraid and gave us up for adoption. The court also searched for her and learned she died young, and no name was given at all for a father.”

Jeanine leaned forward. “I kept dreaming of you, though, that I was supposed to seek you out, that I was supposed to find you at this time.” She reached into the large purse she carried, an oversize black bag a lot like Lena’s, big enough to hold the inevitable book Lena always carried around. She noticed a paperback tucked in Jeanine’s purse as she pulled out a folded set of paperwork.

“What are you reading?” she couldn’t resist asking.

An old Dorothy Gilman book,” Jeanine answered.

“About Mrs. Pollifax the CIA agent?’

Jeanine grinned. “Yes. I’m reading the whole series for the second time. It’s been so long since I read them that I’m enjoying them all over again. Do you ever do that?”

“All the time. I love Dorothy Gilman, too.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Jeanine passed Lena the papers.

“These are copies for you. You’ll find all the information you need in them and names to contact for confirmation.” She reached across the table to take Lena’s hand impulsively. “I know in my heart that we are twins. I can feel it, can’t you? There’s an odd link. There are other times, too, when I’ve dreamed about you. I believe at this time we need to know each other, to come together for some reason. That’s why I felt so compelled to find you.”

Lena looked over the papers for a moment. “This is so hard to take in.” She glanced up after a moment. “Our birth names are very similar, too, mine Lean Jean, yours Laura Jeanine.”

“There are a lot of cases where identical twins, separated at birth, have amazing similarities once they are reunited as adults.”

“Do you think we will find more similarities besides our looks?” Lena asked, beginning to see from the paperwork that Jeanine Vinson was probably the twin sister she’d always believed had died.

Jeanine smiled. “We are both librarians at private schools. I do know that already. I work as the head librarian at The King’s Academy near the Smoky Mountains in Seymour, Tennessee. It’s an old historic school like St. Andrews, that started in 1880.”

Glancing at her watch, Lena asked, “Are you driving back tonight?” She wondered as she asked if she should invite Jeanine Vinson to stay over at her home, but everything felt so odd and new to her right now.

“Yes, I’m driving back,” Jeanine answered. “It’s about three hours from here but with the days long now in May I’ll get back before dark. I am married and I have to work tomorrow.” She smiled. “Also on a humorous note, I have twin girls, so I have obligations with them, too. Like I said, I came impulsively, but here’s what I want to suggest. My husband and I have a beach house at Edisto Island, South Carolina. Do you know where that is?”

Lena nodded, not wanting to admit that she and her parents had vacationed there nearly every summer.

“The girls are going to camp in June right after school is out. I’d like you to come down to the beach house to stay with me so we can get to know each other.”

Lena started to protest but Jeanine held up a hand. “Please think about it. Pray about it. The girls will be at camp. My husband Stuart will pick them up and bring them down to the beach with him after our week for a family time. You can meet them all then, if you want, or leave before they come. You don’t have to stay the whole week either if you don’t want to but you can. It’s a lovely beach house and it will give you a free vacation.”

She tried to think what to say.

Jeanine smiled. “Don’t say anything now, Lena. I’ve dumped all this on you suddenly. But think about the idea and then call me later. I’ve written the dates down for you. Please say yes. Neither of us have other close family. I know your adopted parents were older, like mine, and that they are gone. I truly feel we need each other and need to know each other.”

Lena found herself continuing to study this woman, an almost mirror image of herself. “I’ll think about it,” she said to be polite, not sure what she would actually do when she thought about all this more.

Jeanine stood. “Let me get on my way back. Forgive me for coming without calling first, but I’m so happy to have found you.”

Lena got up from her place, too. “I hope you have a safe trip back,” she decided to say.

“Pray about coming, Lena. I believe we are meant to know each other.” She handed her another packet of papers from her purse. “Here are pictures of the beach house, a map to it, my phone number and email, and our address in Seymour.”

She reached out impulsively to hug Lena, surprising her, tears in her eyes. “I have a sister, my very own sister. I am so blessed.”

Jeanine insisted on taking a couple of selfie pictures then with her phone before she left, waving and calling back, “See you again soon.”

Lena walked to her car and drove home, stunned with all Jeanine Vinson’s revelations. As she pulled in the driveway, her phone pinged.

Pulling it out of her purse she found a text message from Jeanine, “I loved meeting you,” with one of the selfie pictures she’d taken of the two of them. Following it was another picture of two dark-haired girls about eight or nine, sitting in the crook of a tree, grinning, the girls obviously twins. “Here are my girls Ramona and Rebecca,” Jeanine texted after their picture. “They look a lot like us, don’t they, and a lot like I did as a girl. I wish we had pictures of us together then, don’t you?” And that’s when Lena started to cry.

Naturally, she prayed and thought about Jeanine’s visit a lot in the closing weeks of May before school ended. She read and verified all the paperwork Jeanine had given her, and did her own research, confirming that Laura Jeanine Thomas Vinson was actually her twin sister. She’d never thought to question what she’d been told about her twin dying. Jeanine searched the internet, also, to see Jeanine’s home and school in Seymour, to learn all she could about her. Amazingly, when locating a picture of Jeanine’s home, she found it was painted a deep, rich yellow and very similar to her own house in style, although larger, with a white railed porch and a gabled roof.  Jeanine’s husband’s name was Stuart Ralph Vinson, and Lena had been engaged to a man named Stuart, his full name Stuart Bales, before he went abroad with the military and was killed. Little coincidences like this fascinated Lena, despite her natural inclination to order and good sense as a librarian. She found a random newspaper article that announced Jeanine had once won her school spelling bee, and Lena knew that she had excelled in that subject, too, and of course, after undergrad work in small liberal arts colleges they’d both gone to the University of Tennessee to study Library Science, or Information Services as it was called now, to get their MLS degrees to become librarians. It’s amazing their paths hadn’t crossed, but she saw Jeanine had married after her undergrad degree, not going straight on into her masters program as Lena had.

Her curiosity aroused by the continuing similarities she kept finding in their lives, she said yes to Jeanine’s invitation. Lena admittedly loved Edisto and a free week there after a hectic school year also sounded too good to say no to. Besides, their island house was beautiful and right on the beach. And Jeanine was right, they needed to come to know each other.

In mid-June, Lena headed to the beach to Jeanine’s and now, several days later, the two of them sat out on the screened porch behind the beach house talking together and listening to the waves of the sea, the seagulls, and the sounds of the sea breeze.

“I keep pinching myself as I look across at you,” Jeanine said, smiling at her. “I didn’t know about you until mother died. Afterward, I was helping dad go through old papers to move to a smaller place in an assisted living facility, his health not good. We were talking casually about twins and about my own twin girls and Dad commented that twins ran in families. ‘You were a twin, too,’ he said, out of the blue. I was stunned, but he told me then what he knew about that, which was actually very little.”

Lena decided to be honest. “There were times when I wondered about my birth, my real mother, and I wondered if I had sisters or brothers. As an only child, I often envied my friends who had larger families and very active families. Both my parents were older; they owned and ran a small thrift store with busy store hours. I often entertained myself at the store and at home reading. I always loved books.”

“We certainly have that in common,” Jeanine said. “My parents were educators, my dad later a school administrator. Naturally they valued reading, but when I discovered the small public library near my home, it became my great love. I checked out books all the time and decided even back then I wanted to be a librarian someday.”

They had talked all afternoon after Lena arrived and in the next days, too, telling each other about their lives, their families, their childhood, their schools and friends. Big things and little things. They’d even laughed settling on the porch after dinner that first night to learn they both loved rocking chairs. They both sat in one now, rocking while they talked.

Lena grinned. “I read several books about twins reuniting before I came and about the Jim Twins, born in 1940, raised by different parents, and reunited in their late thirties.”

“It’s an interesting subject,” Jeanine agreed. “I rewatched the old movie The Parent Trap with the girls, trying to prepare Ramona and Rebecca for the idea that they had an aunt who was my twin. Gosh, that was a cute movie.”

“I’ve seen it, too,” Lena said. “I also found an old interview of the Jim Twins with Johnny Carson on his old show. Their story is a lot like ours. They both had identical first names, both named Jim, and their first and second wives even had the same first names. They went to take part in twin studies at the University of Minnesota where the College found their intelligence tests, personality tests, and medical histories almost identical even though they they’d never met after being adopted. Stories like theirs, and ours, make a strong case for the influence of heredity.”

“Yes, I read some stories like that, too. Most twin studies find it hard to determine if the similarities between identical twins, besides looks, are more linked to heredity or culture, since the twins grow up so closely in the same home and environment.”

“Well, we have incredible similarities.” Lena grinned. “I’m sure some university would love to study us, but I’m not sure I want that probing and recognition.”

“It really is amazing how many things we have in common. We both loved spelling and English, but didn’t do well in math, algebra, or geometry. We loved to swim and hike but didn’t like organized sports. We didn’t do well in most sports either and hated gym and P.E.” She laughed. “We both always had cats, and we both had a black-and-white cat named Sylvester when we were girls.”

“Looney Tunes cartoons made Sylvester the cat really popular then,” Lena reminded her. “We probably both saw those old cartoons.”

“Maybe, but we both had cats named Dinah and Socks, too,” Jeanine added. “Those cats weren’t on TV or in movies.”

Lena laughed. “Yes, but they were both Book Cats … Dinah in Alice in Wonderland and Socks in one of Beverly Cleary’s books. You know we both read everything we could get our hands on when girls. Books were a big influencer to both of us.”

“I named a lot of my dolls after book characters, too. Did you?” Jeanine asked.

“I did.” Lena smiled at her. “And I’ve been wondering if you named your girls, Ramona and Rebecca, after book characters?”

“I admit I did, and I wanted them to be spunky, individualistic girls, too, like Ramona in the Beverly Cleary books and Rebecca in the Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farms story.”

They stopped talking for a moment to watch a line of brown pelicans fly across the ocean in a uniform line and to listen to the waves washing up on the beach.

“We think so much alike, it’s kind of spooky,” Lena said after a moment.  “We even like and dislike the same foods, the same books and authors. We both love yellow—and my gosh, both have yellow houses—and drive yellow cars, which are hard to find today. We both have cats and not dogs, like to do needlework and embroidery and to keep busy hands, and we collect thimbles. None of those interests are very prevalent for anyone to have in common.”

“Sometimes I start a sentence and you finish it, too,” Jeanine said. “You often know what I’m thinking before I say it. You love nature and the mountains and the beach, places of peace and beauty, and they help to calm you when you’re stressed like they do me. You’ve told me that several times. I’m sure one of those colleges would have a field day talking to us.”

“We have differences, too,” Lena put in. “You’re more extroverted and outgoing. I’m a little more introverted, or at least not as quick to be chatty with people I don’t know well. I don’t think you’ve ever met a stranger from what I see. You chat away with everyone.”

“Ramona is like that, too, but Rebecca is quieter, more like you, although she can chatter away all day once she knows you,” Jeanine said. “They both play piano and really love it. They love to sing and are in the children’s church choir. They are also taking tap dancing. I never could dance very well. I couldn’t seem to relax into the rhythm of it.”

Lena shook her head. “I was awkward with that, too, and I still don’t dance well.”

Jeanine got up to go into the kitchen to get them a bottle of Perrier from the refrigerator. It was another of those small things they’d found they both loved, water slightly flavored and in a cold glass bottle all its own. A little indulgence.

Lena knew that another difference in them was their level of wealth. Jeanine’s husband’s family owned a wealth management firm, based in Knoxville with a big branch office in Seymour that Stuart managed. Like Jeanine, and like herself, Stuart was an only child although she’d learned he had a brother who had died young. Stuart’s father was still living but not his mother, so their immediate family was small, too. Lena had only one older aunt in Chattanooga where she’d been raised. Perhaps their limited family made finding each other even more special. Lena and Jeanine had bonded already in the last days, too. They had so much in common, that they seldom lacked for anything to talk about, and they loved so many of the same pastimes that each day brought another revelation about something they learned they both loved to do, some other passion they shared.

When Stuart and the girls came to the beach at the end of their week, Lena liked them all from the first and felt comfortable with them. It seemed, in an odd way, like they were her family already, a part of her. Stuart was comfortable and easy to be with, the girls, too. And the girls soon had Lena walking on the beach with them, playing board games and cards, sitting out on the beach enjoying the sun, riding bikes around the island, playing putt-putt, laughing and cooking together in the kitchen.

Walking along the beach with Ramona and Rebecca one evening, Ramona said, “I’m glad Mama came to find you. She said she’d always felt like there was an empty part of her.”

“She did say that,” Rebecca said, pushing her bangs back that the sea breeze was blowing. “She had some bad dreams, too, like something bad had happened, maybe to you. Were you sick or something? I know sometimes when Ramona is sick or going to be sick. “

“No, I haven’t been sick. I’m fine, and I’m glad your mother came to find me, too. Living all by myself, except with my cats Lucy and Tom, I didn’t realize I was a little lonely until you two, your mom, and your dad got mixed into my life.”

“Can we come to see you?” Ramona asked.

“Yes, of course. My little house has two extra bedrooms. I have plenty of room. I live in a small town, St. Andrews, but there are a lot of beautiful places to visit near my home.”

“Mama wants you to come and see us, too, this summer.”

“Yes, she’s told me that. I promised I would come, too.”

“We live near pretty places, too, like the Smokies and Gatlinburg.”

“I’ll look forward to seeing everything,” Lena said, and meant it. She and Lena had already planned more summer visits before school began again and more time at the beach in August, too.

Over the summer the two sisters followed up on those plans. It seemed perfect they’d met as their summer breaks from school began and they kept the road between their homes busy and the beach house on Point Street full of laughter and love. She’d missed having love, close family love. Lena wondered, too, watching Stuart with Jeanine if she’d have had that same sort of loving affection with her own Stuart if he’d lived. She liked to think so.

Through the fall, Lena and Jeanine stayed in close touch, with occasional weekend visits when they could manage them, often spending part or all of their holidays together. The girls wrote Lena little letters she cherished and kept, and Lena now had pictures of her new family tucked around her house in St. Andrews.

As the spring of the next year rolled around, Lena woke several times in a sweat with nightmares racing through her thoughts. She always slept hard and well, so this troubled her as the dreams continued on. Eventually, she broke down and went to see the doctor for a check-up, but found all was well with her physically. Was there a problem she didn’t know about with Jeanine, with Stuart, or with one of the girls? Lena probed gently in her conversations and even drove to their home for a weekend, checking. But they were as happy and well as ever, looking forward to the summer to come, to going to the beach and sharing more time together.

Lena had almost believed the troubled dreams had passed away until she awoke with a start one night, her heart racing, feeling like she was flying out into space. She could hardly breathe and got up to pace the floor and look at the clock, the time in the dark just after one am. This dream was the worst of any she’d ever had, so Lena slipped on her robe and went to sit in the living room to pray.  She fixed a cup of hot tea, trying to calm herself, but she kept feeling something was dreadfully wrong. In time she fell asleep in the chair, but her phone ringing early in the morning woke her.

A small voice she recognized immediately as Ramona said, “Aunt Lena, we need you. A bad thing has happened. Me and Rebecca need you.” She heard the child break into sobs then. “Come soon. We need you.”

She heard Rebecca weeping in the background, too, and echoing Ramona’s words. “Please come, Leenie,” she said, using a little nickname she often called Lena. “We’ve lost our mommy and our daddy. We need you.”

A deep voice came on the line then. “This is Stuart Vinson’s father, Gordon. I am here with the girls at their house. I didn’t mean for the girls to call you. I planned to later. I just picked them up at a neighbor’s where they’d stayed the weekend while Stuart and Jeanine went on a business trip for our company to New York. They flew, of course.” Lena heard him break down then. “The plane crashed. I’m so sorry to tell you. There were no survivors.”

Lena heard him weeping and could hear the girls crying, too.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Lena said, hanging up the phone. And she knew then why she’d had the dreams and wished vainly that she’d understood their warning. What had Jeanine said right after they met? That she’d kept dreaming of her, that she knew she was supposed to find her at this time. Another time later, while sitting out on the porch of the beach house one night, Jeanine had said, “If anything ever happens to you, if you get sick or ill, you call me. I’ll come. I’ll be there right away. Promise me, too, if anything ever happens to me or to me and Stuart, that you’ll come. You and I are part of each other. I will always be here for you, and I know now you will always be there for me and for Ramona and Rebecca. We are family now.”

“Of course,” Lena had assured her. “We are family. I will come whenever you need me, and I know you’ll come to be a help to me, too.”

Jeanine had reached out to take her hand. “Remember, too, that no matter whatever happens, Lena, we will always, always be sisters in heart.”

The remembered words sent a chill over Lena as she packed. She glanced up toward heaven, tears running down her face. “Don’t worry, Jeanine. I’ll take care of the girls, of our girls, just as we promised.”

Ten years later, Lena remembered that time as she watched Ramona and Rebecca walk across the stage at St. Andrews Sewanee School, graduating with honors, both girls sending her smiles out in the audience where she sat. Somehow they had all survived that horrible time. She’d brought the girls home with her, raised and loved them, kept them in touch with their grandfather. Their father Stuart, with forethought, had set up the girls affairs well with his own father through their business. There had been no want, except for the heart. And together they had kept the memories of Jeanine alive.

“Sometimes when I look at you, I see Mama,” Rebecca had said to her once and the words didn’t hurt Lena but warmed her heart.

“Always together in heart,” she whispered to Jeanine later, looking up toward heaven, sure Jeanine and Stuart were smiling down to see their girls graduating, both nearly grown, smart, capable, gifted and happy. Lena had seen to that with love and diligence.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.

 

THE MAKEOVER – A free story

 “Lennie, tell me again how this happened,” Donovan Alistair said. “How did you end up with more paid vendors than spaces?”  He glanced down at the venue layout on his desk and frowned.

“I’m not really sure,” Lennie replied, shifting guiltily in his chair across from Donovan’s desk. “I mean I thought I was keeping track of all the vendors who’d signed up and paid, but I guess a few slipped past me. Then when Cecil started laying everything out, he came and told me the numbers were off.”

Donovan’s eyes shifted to Lennie Blantz, a nice-looking, slightly stocky but personable young young man. He could tell by the way Lennie wouldn’t look at him directly that he was lying. Frankly, Lennie liked to goof off and this wasn’t the first time a problem like this had happened with him.

Donovan picked up his phone and gave Cecil a ring. “How many extra vendor spaces are we dealing with that paid but don’t have a space?”

He listened and turned back to Lennie. “Cecil says we have four 10-10 spaces that we don’t have a designated space for. How do you think we should handle this? Cecil is going to come join us in a minute, too.”

Lennie rubbed his arm, looking around. “Well, maybe you could call them and explain. We could give them their money back, too.”

“That might create a lot of ill will, Lennie. Some of these vendors come to the Appalachian Craft Show at the Overton Event Center every year. They’re valued customers.”

Lennie rubbed his neck now, sweating a little. “Well, maybe you can figure something out.” He grinned. “You’re good at figuring out problems.”

Donovan studied the diagrams of their major vendor space and the routes into the main auditorium, thinking how to resolve this dilemma.

Cecil came in and joined them while he was trying to come up with an answer.  Donovan turned to him after a moment. “Cecil, have you and Lennie put anyone in the lobby in front of the doors into the auditorium yet?”

Cecil, a tall, lanky man, shook his head. “No, not yet. We’ve had some requests for free space from area civic groups and a museum but we always wait until the show is set up before we get back to them. Right now, only the paid vendors are on our list to place.”

Donovan glanced again at the diagram and paperwork on his desk.  “Could you check in your records, Cecil, and see who our most long-term vendors are? I’m thinking we could call some of them and say we’re offering a slightly larger entry space to some of our most loyal, long-term vendors this year and that we would be happy for them to claim one of these prime spots in the lobby area if they’d like.”

Lennie grinned. “Hey, that’s a good idea. Folks coming in to the show would see their booths before they even walk in the big auditorium. Some of our vendors ought to jump on the idea of getting a lobby spot.”

“I agree,” Cecil said. “A few might want to stay in their regular booths, if possible, but I can think of several right off who will probably love this idea.”

Donovan nodded. “Can you and Lennie work on that together? Cecil, you know our vendors better than Lennie does and you have the records. Bring me a calling list to approve after you put one together and then we’ll get to work on this. We only need to add four booths in the lobby, if you guys got all the other figures right.” He gathered up the papers on his desk to tuck back into their folder.

“I’ll get right on it,” Cecil said getting up and picking up the folder.

“Thanks for working this out,” Lennie added, making his escape, too.

Actually, Donovan was glad he’d worked it out this easily. It seemed to be a regular part of his work life that he handled not only his job but that of others under him. He was the Operations and Events Manager at Overton Venue, with Cecil his Management Consultant, good with numbers, and Lennie his Event Coordinator. Although a good-looking young man, Lennie was somewhat lazy. Their boss, Larnelle Overton, had hired Lennie because of his looks and charisma and also because he was Larnelle’s nephew. So, that meant there was fat chance Donovan could fire him and hire someone who’d do a better job.

The boss’s equally cute secretary leaned her head in the door now. “Mr. Overton wants to talk with you for a minute if you’re free,” she said, flashing him one of her I’m cute smiles.

“I’ll be right there,” Donovan said.

Larnelle Overton, the event center owner, wasn’t often in office during the week, working more in what he termed a ‘remote position,’ which frequently meant he was on the golf course or out on the lake. Still, he owned the center and had developed it. He also kept a handle on the business, hiring strong people for his top positions he knew would carry the daily load of running things and fielding ongoing problems well. Donovan assumed the request to talk to him related to this little venue problem that had trickled down to him in some way.

Larnelle Overton, who insisted on being called Mr. Overton, was dressed, as usual in a sharp designer suit, neat and pressed, his shoes shining and his hair impeccable. Donovan was well aware he made a strong contrast in slightly rumpled olive-green slacks and a white shirt with a coffee stain from the morning. He’d never been much for formal dress. Why should it matter? His hair was scruffy and overly long and the short beard he’d let grow needed trimming but he’d made an effort to look better today. He’d even slipped on the matching olive-green coat jacket to his slacks, knowing this was one of the days when the boss usually stopped by the event center.

Mr. Overton gestured to the seat across from his desk as Donovan came in. “I ran into Lennie in the hall. He said you’d figured out a way to handle that overbooking problem.”

“We did,” he said, not wanting to take all the credit.

“You handle everything in relation to our operations very efficiently here, Donovan. I’m never concerned about the event center when you’re here.”

Surprised at this praise, Donovan said, “Thank you, sir.”

Larnelle gave him a somewhat oily smile. Donovan recognized it as one usually followed by a big job or responsibility his boss wanted to dump on him.

“I’m not sure if you remember, but my daughter Tiffany graduates from college next month. She’s been getting her degree in business management, and she wants to come and work at the Event Center. Do you remember Tiffany? You’ve met her at many of our company anniversaries and holiday parties.”

“Yes, very pretty girl,” Donovan said, recalling the rude and snobby woman who usually gave him the once over and walked away as soon as possible.

The boss smiled again. “Tiffany certainly has beauty and poise, nice traits for work with the public at an event center, but she will obviously need schooling and help with any position she takes here.”

Uh, oh. Donovan thought. Surely he doesn’t mean for me to take on that task.

Mr. Overton let his eyes move over him. “Underneath your very casual dress, you are a very handsome man, Donovan. It’s just not easily seen. I think Tiffany might be drawn to take another look at you if you worked to have a bit of a makeover. Cleaned up your appearance. Worked on getting a little polish. Sharpened up your act. Do You know what I mean?”

Not sure he did, Donovan waited.

“It would please me if Tiffany took a liking to you and if a relationship developed. I need to look to the future and to think about who to carry on the business here. If you and Tiffany married, that would be the perfect answer. She could handle all the social aspects of the event center and you could run the business.”

Shocked at his words, Donovan gulped. “That’s a flattering idea, sir, but in honesty I don’t think Tiffany is interested in or attracted to me.”

His boss frowned. “She could be if you worked at it and polished yourself up. The wife and I both think she needs to settle down with someone sensible, capable, and strong, but frankly I don’t think she will see those attributes in you as you are now. I don’t mean to be offensive, but work needs to be done, Donovan. I mainly hired Lennie to work at the events here because he shows so much better than you. Frankly, the look you bring to the office is far below what an event center’s Operations and Events Manager should look like.”

Donovan tried to absorb his words. This was the first time his appearance had ever been mentioned to him. Why hadn’t Mr. Overton spoken to him before? As far as he knew they had a loose dress code here. “I’m not quite sure what to say, sir.”

“I hope you’ll say that you’ll work toward this goal as you would any other good business opportunity. Not every boss would make an offer like this.” He paused, tapping his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. “I know a few other young men, coming along in the business world, sons of friends in the country club with me who would be pleased to pursue Tiffany.”

Donovan felt relieved at that idea and felt sure he sighed.

Mr. Overton frowned. “Naturally one of these young business managers might expect to come into the business here, too. We have a small staff. I would so prefer to keep the reins in your hands, Donovan.”

Concerned, Donovan leaned forward. “Sir, Tiffany doesn’t favor me.”

“I have reason to believe she would if you presented yourself differently, and I would certainly encourage a match then.” He hesitated and then said, “I hope you will realize this is a very good offer for you.” He handed Donovan a photo of his daughter. “Perhaps this will offer you some positive inspiration, Donovan.”

He looked at the photo of the stunningly beautiful blond woman in a low-cut dress and could not think of a thing to say.

Mr. Overton stood, signaling their meeting was at an end. “This opportunity between us is confidential, Donovan. It would distress me if any word of this got out to other employees. I’m sure you can see why, so I will expect your word that this will not filter out to others.”

“Yes sir. You can be sure I won’t speak about it to others.” That was a fact.

He made his way back to his office and then sat there stunned for an hour thinking over this odd conversation. In a sense, he realized he’d been given an ultimatum.

The next day, Sophia Winton, an area photographer with a freelance business who did most all the photography work needed for the event center stopped by to take some pre-pictures for an upcoming wedding. He let her into one of their big meeting rooms, and while she asked some questions, he watched her shift things around and decorate tables to create a photo shoot setting. Interested, as the couple showed up for some engagement photos he watched her stage them and take pictures and then followed her outside where she took more photos in the gazebo by the Little River that ran behind the event center property.

She moved to the young groom, a somewhat red-headed young man with freckles, straightening his tie and pulling his shirt sleeves down below the cuffs of his jacket.

Smiling at him, she said, “Let me put some makeup on you and style your hair a little for the photos, Freddie. We want these pictures of you and Becky to be really cute.”

As she continued to work with both of them, Donovan was impressed at how much better they both looked.

When she finished, Donovan offered to carry some of her equipment to her car. “You do really nice work, Sophia. That was a good makeover you did on those kids.”

She laughed. “Just a little touching up. It saves work with editing the photos after, and there are some things you can’t edit easily, like Freddie’s cowlick sticking up.”

An idea came to Donovan. “Uh, I have some business I’d like to talk with you about.”

“Sure. I could run back into your office now if you have time.”

Uncomfortable at that idea, he glanced at his watch. “it’s almost lunch time. Maybe we could run down the road to grab a bite of lunch at that little diner by the Melrose bridge.”

Donovan saw her hesitate. “I could come back to your office another time,” she said.”

“Look, I’m not trying to hit on you. It’s just that this business is unrelated to the event center so it didn’t seem right to use office space to discuss it.”

She grinned. “Sure, then, that’s okay. I don’t have another appointment to shoot photos  until two near the country club. So lunch would be good.”

“You can ride to the diner with me and then I’ll bring you back here to your car since your next stop is closer to Maryville.”

She considered it. “No, there’s no need. It isn’t far. I’ll just meet you there.”

Donovan went back to his office to pass the word he was heading out to lunch and a meeting, and then left for the diner. He thought about Sophia Winton on the way. She was a brownish-haired girl, eyes blue, figure nice, pleasant manner. He thought he remembered she worked with her dad in the photography business, that they had a well-respected little company. It was probably crazy to reach out to her but maybe she could help him or might know someone who could. The word “makeover” she’d used was the same word Larnelle Overton had used.

With the day pleasant and for added privacy, Donovan suggested they eat outside on the covered deck in back and she was okay with that idea. He ordered a barbeque sandwich and slaw and she got some sort of cheese omelet with fruit on the side.

“Dad and I don’t live far from here. We like to come here to eat,” she said conversationally.

He tried to think how to begin.

As the quiet continued, she finally said, “Donovan, I won’t say anything to your employer about you having an outside meeting with a photographer. Just tell me what your business idea is. I’ve had some strange assignments in past. Very little surprises me.”

He took a deep breath. “You know how you did a little makeover on that kid Freddie for their engagement photos. Well, I need a big makeover. My boss has all but told me I might be replaced if I don’t.”

She looked stunned. “What? You do an incredible job as the Operations and Event Manager at the Overton center.  Everyone who does work for the center knows that you do more work there than Larnelle. Whyever would he suddenly push for you to do a makeover?  And if he means just updating your work wardrobe, that shouldn’t be hard.”

“He has in mind for me to interest his daughter, Tiffany, when she comes home after graduating from college next month. He thinks we would be a good match.” He blushed even saying the words.

“He actually said that to you?” She looked surprised at his words. “I think I remember Tiffany as a glamorous woman, sort of a fashion queen, full of herself.” She looked him over. “That hardly seems like a match for you if you don’t mind my candor.”

“No, but he wants me to spiff up, try to go after her, sharpen up my act, put on a little polish. I know he’s planning some big after graduation party at the center for her for when she comes home, and he wants me to wow her there, look different so she’ll be attracted to me.” He shook his head. “I don’t even know how to dance good at stuff like that, how to act, what to wear or talk about. But if I don’t try, I might lose my job. He sort of put out an ultimatum to me. Tiffany has never even liked me, so I don’t think anything I do will work, but I need to try. He calls it an opportunity, and I think he wants me to change in what I wear and how I look.”

She sat quietly for a minute. “Why would you ask me to help with this, Donovan. We’re only casually acquainted through work. I’m a photographer not a makeover artist. Why wouldn’t you go to some of your men friends for help who dress and look sharp?”

He decided to be honest. “I was too embarrassed to tell any of them about this. It’s really sort of humiliating. Also, I was sworn not to mention it to anyone, so that limits me. But I need help, Sophia. Watching you with Freddie and Becky, I realized you work with making people look better all the time and that maybe you could help me.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, honestly, I’ve never cared much about clothes and fashion but I thought I dressed all right. What do you think?”

She hesitated. “Some changes might be good in relation to your position at the center, Donovan. While we’re eating, tell me about yourself and let me think about this. It’s not the sort of normal business offer I usually get.”

“First, I want to say that I know what you get hourly as a photographer working at events. I’ll pay you that and more if you can help me, Sophia. I just don’t know what to do or where to begin. You always look so nicely put together whenever I’ve seen you, and I suppose I I look and dress kind of dorky compared to how a lot of people dress.”

Donovan looked at himself, trying to straighten his jacket. “The way I dress is pretty much how I’ve always dressed since school. My folks didn’t have a lot. We had a real simple house, just a plain life. I worked at my dad’s grocery after school, while taking college classes at Pellissippi on one of those Tennessee Scholarships. My brother Ben helps runs the grocery now. Neither of us ever had much time or money for organized sports or fancy clothes or proms or stuff.  We just worked in the store or in the garden at home. For fun, we fished, hunted, and hiked. But we had good family, a good upbringing. We learned good manners and morals. and we had to learn to be organized and efficient to take care of all kinds of problems at the store.”

He paused before continuing.  “I got a job over at Overton’s Event Center when it opened, right after I got my business management degree. I worked smart and hard and I moved up from one position to another, learning the business like I’d learned the store. I’ve always been grateful to Mr. Overton for taking me on right after college, recognizing and rewarding me for good work.”

“So you want to please him, even though the request he’s made doesn’t seem right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I guess I do, and I don’t want to lose my job.”

“Do you want to marry his daughter Tiffany?”

He shrugged. “I don’t even know her. At any office gathering, she always pretty much stuck up her nose at me like I was dirt or something, not on her level. She never talked to me or anything. She always had some slick guy on her arm and a lot of guys hanging around her. I can’t imagine we’d have much in common, and I can’t figure out why her daddy would want her to hook up with me. I know where the Overtons live. It’s a different world from mine.”

Sophia pushed her hair back behind her ear, thinking. “My dad told me Larnelle Overton started out poor and worked his way through college and up in the business world. Daddy said he took a risk, buying that old event center that was going under, but he thought things were growing from Maryville toward the Smokies. He felt like there weren’t many event facilities out in the Melrose and Walland areas except for Blackberry Farm, only for the elite.” She smiled. “I think maybe he relates to you and I know he depends on you.” She frowned. “From what I hear his daughter Tiffany has been a trial. Maybe he really believes you’ll be a good husband for her, help her settle down. She’s very beautiful, but the stories I hear about her character and life style aren’t pretty.”

She paused. “Are you a Christian?”

He looked up from eating, surprised at her question. “Yeah. I was raised strong in that way. In my college years about the time my cousin got blown up by a field bomb in the military, I got myself straightened out and sold out to the Lord. That hard time reminded me you never know about life.” He hesitated. “What about you?”

“We’re strong people of faith, my dad and me.” She shook her head. “I admit I got mad at God when my mother died too young, but I got that straightened out, too, after a while.” She crossed her arms. “I ask that in particular, Donovan, because if I’m going to spend some time with you to help you with this thing, then I expect you to understand this is business. I expect you to act honorably with me. I don’t really know you yet, but I’m beginning to get a feeling I could trust you to help you with this.”

“Do you think I’m dumb and stupid to be trying to change myself for a work matter like this?” he asked. “Does it make me seem weak?”

“Sometimes change can be good. If you change yourself outwardly and don’t like the changes you make, you can change back. Did you ever dress up like a super hero or movie star or something for Halloween growing up?”

“Yeah.” He laughed. “I dressed up like Elvis one year, got the look and the voice down. It was fun.”

“Well, a makeover would be like that on a larger scale.” She looked him over. “To come across like Mr. Overton suggested will mean changes in your looks, your clothes, some of your conversation and how you act in different situations. You’ll need to think of it like preparing for or getting into character for a movie role, but I think I can help you do that. I photograph a lot of monied events. I know how monied young men look and act, smell and talk. We can make a different version of Donovan Alistair if you like.”

Donovan thought about her words. “I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge,” he said, finishing off the last of his tea. “And Mr. Overton sort of challenged me. He made me feel for the first time like I didn’t measure up to all I could be. Honestly, Sophia, if he’d told me before I needed to work on my looks for the business, I would have tried to please him.”

“What about the Tiffany thing? Is that a challenge you want to win, too?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but I admit I’d like to see her take a second look at me and not snub me. Also, I think if Mr. Overton knew I’d tried to be nice to her and appeal to her, and if she still didn’t like me, that he might keep me on.” He laughed. “This is  the only job I’ve ever had. I admit it scares me a little to think of having to start all over, interview and stuff.”

Sophia crossed her arms. “Quite candidly, Donovan, if you came interviewing at any event center, business, or country club where I do my photography in that awful pea green suit, those high-top athletic shoes with the white laces and bright red socks, and with that mop of a haircut, you would not get the job.”

He scowled at her. “This is a good olive-green suit. I found it at the thrift store in Maryville. They have a lot of great clothes there.”

“I like shopping at thrift stores, too, but I can teach you how to find better clothes there.” She pulled out her calendar book from her purse. “When is that big graduation party for Tifffany to be held at the Overton center?”

He stopped to think. “The first weekend in June.”

“Will you give up the next weekends before then to work on this?”

Donovan frowned. “Will it take that much time?”

“Yes. I’ll start to plan out an agenda. If we have some work events on the weekends we can’t get around or can’t pass on to someone else, we’ll make up the time on evenings in between.” She hesitated. “Honestly, the idea is crazy, Donovan, but I’ll try to help you with this. No guarantees, but you have to agree to cooperate and to be willing to make the changes needed to try out this part you want to play it out.”

“Maybe it won’t work anyway,” he said, looking down at his lap. “Mama always said you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

“That old proverb means you can’t create a fine product from inferior materials,” she said. “But beneath some dorky clothes, a bad haircut, and some slouchy ways, to my mind, lies a prince, Mr. Alistair.”

He laughed. “Well, that sounds like a compliment I can hold on to.”

She pulled out her phone and handed it to him. “Put your phone numbers in here and your address.” She looked up at him. “Where do you live? Is it close around here?”

“I bought a house off West Miller’s Cove Road a couple of years ago, a little away from Maryville but only about ten minutes or so from the event center.”

Sophia smiled after he mentioned the address. “I know where that is. I’ll just come to your place on Saturday at about ten and we’ll get started.” She paused. “Seeing where you live will tell me a lot about you, too. We want you to achieve a more polished, professional look but we also want to project an authentic look for you, too. Will that time work for you?”

“Sure,” he said, beginning to feel a little panicked now over this whole thing.

Donovan spent the rest of the week after work cleaning his house, knowing Sophia planned to show up at his place at ten. Nervous over this whole makeover idea now, he watched for her car and came out to greet her as she pulled up. She looked cute, and thankfully casual, in khaki slacks, a long-sleeved sandy-colored shirt, and tan shoes, her hair tied back in a low ponytail. He heaved a sigh, glad he hadn’t been expected to dress up. He just had on tan slacks and a white T-shirt today.

Getting her purse and a big laptop out of the car, she smiled at him. “Nice house, Donovan.” She paused to look up at the mountains behind his house. “Your house alone, rural like this, sort of rugged and rudimentary, tells me a lot about what your style should be.” She followed him up on the deck and into the house. “I’ve been doing my homework.” She patted her laptop. “And I’ve brought some great YouTubes for us to look at about makeovers. They taught me a lot and I think they will you, too.”

Inside, she turned and said, “Show me around so I can get a sense of your style here. Then we’ll sit down and have some coffee, if you still have some, talk and look at a bunch of these YouTubes and work on our battle plan.”

They spent the morning looking at YouTubes of various makeup specialists doing makeovers on an assortment of young men. They also moved from the couch to sit on the floor after a time, the laptop between them.

“What did you get out of watching all these YouTubes?” she asked after a time.

He turned and grinned at her. “That I don’t know much about men’s fashion. To me those sharp guys were all dressed a little plain and too much the same after the makeover, but dang, they looked good and certainly better than before.”

She’d been taking notes and looked down at them. “A big point, which is good advice for women as well as men, is that your outfit should never talk louder than who you are and what you represent. One man said when your colors are quiet people pay more attention to you than to your outfit. I liked the concept, too, that when you’re dressed well and dressed right you feel more confident, you carry yourself more easily, even move and speak differently, your clothes supporting you, not shouting some other impression.”

“They were all big on impressions you make with your hair, your overall grooming, your clothes, how they fit and look, if they’re tasteful and not too colorful, if things clash.” He made a face. “I admit I’d never thought much about what colors look good together, what colors clash, or what a mess mixing plaids, stripes, and too many colors and patterns can do to any look. I think I have a lot to learn.”

The next weeks were one learning experience after another to Donovan. Working with Sophia was fun, too. She was easy to be with and to talk to. She went through his closet and helped him organize his clothes and dump half of them. She laughed with him and not at him as they went shopping together to look for new clothes, and she taught him how to shop at the thrift stores and get good clothes and good bargains, too.

After work one day, she took him to a hair stylist friend of hers, a man she did a lot of free-lance photography for, for a haircut.

Ricky Dane walked all around him, analyzing his appearance, asking questions of Sophia about Donovan’s job, his life, his interests, almost like he wasn’t there.

“The guy’s got a good body, great build, well-muscled, good skin, clothes are okay, but his hair’s a big mop of curls. The color and texture is nice though.” He felt of Donovan’s hair, moving it around and then studied his beard. “He needs a haircut for sure, something that will show off a little of this natural curl maybe, but I don’t like the beard for him. Do you, Sophia?”

“No. I think he’d be more handsome without it,” she answered. “Donovan, is it okay if Ricky gives you a clean shave with your haircut and style?”

He looked in the mirror. “Yeah, but don’t give me some kind of fancy haircut I’ll need to style or fuss with, anything that needs gels or extra time to fiddle with. I like to get up, shower, shave, and go. If it requires a lot of maintenance, I’ll soon forget to do it.”

Sophia laughed. “That’s honest. Being clean shaven will be easier for you, too, then.”

Ricky cut and styled his hair then, shaved off his beard and treated his face with some lotions and then spun him around to take a look in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Wow,” he said. “I look good. Just about any haircut I ever got from a barber in past left me sheared and ugly and needing about a month to look decent again.”

Ricky ruffled up his hair and then gave him a comb. “You comb it back in place. I want you to see you can make it look good really easily.” He went to a shelf nearby and got a jar of shaping cream. “Use this when you need a little hold for an event, a little shaping help. Just put a dab on your fingers. It can help keep your hair in control. Try it out.”

Donovan left with the cream and a new haircut. Glancing at his reflection in the glass window as they left the shop, he said, “Dang, I do look good.”

“Yes, you do. And you’re wearing those new khaki slacks, that navy pull over henley. and the new leather casual shoes we bought.” She smiled at him. “Those girls across the street are staring at you, too, and in a good way.”

He glanced their way but then back at Sophia, oddly feeling more pleased at her smile and admiration. “Do I look better to you?” he asked.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments from me. I liked you before, too, remember, but I’ll bet Miss Tiffany Overton will take another look now.”

Over the next weekends, they practiced dancing together, laughing over their fumbles in his living room, working to get the moves right. She taught him more how to talk to girls, what to say in introduction, what not to say or do.

“Don’t talk yourself out of talking to girls or initiating conversations with them,” she told him. “Male-female culture is still ingrained in us. Women really want men to take the initiative, to come to speak to them, to ask them to dance, to ask them out, to be the one to initiate the first intimacy. They don’t really want to take the initiative but they  do many times when men won’t take the action needed.” She smiled. “It’s really easier than you think.”

“What should I say? Should I say, ‘Hey, I’m Donovan. You look really pretty tonight.’”

“No, that’s moving in too fast. Say something general. ‘This is a great party, isn’t it?’ or at an art gallery or something, walk over and say, ‘I really like this artist, don’t you?’ This gives her an opportunity for feedback. And be ready with some easy follow up discussion after, more details about the party, more details about the artist. See?”

“Maybe.”

“Let’s practice. What would you say to me?” she asked.

He grinned and moved closer. “Hey, good looking. Wanna give me a makeover?”

She laughed and swatted at him. “Be serious, Donovan.”

He shrugged. “That is how we met, Sophia.”

“I know, but that’s business and we knew each other before. We’re talking about making conversation with girls you don’t know and want to know better.”

A few odd thoughts crossed his mind then but he didn’t voice them. Falling for his teacher wasn’t going to help him with the graduation party to come. Still, he was glad when she decided they should practice dancing more.

She got up from the sofa. “You said you weren’t too comfortable dancing, haven’t not done much of it since school years. We should work on that some more.” She walked over to where he had a CD player on one of his shelves. “See if you can find us a fun CD to dance to and another slow one to waltz to. I imagine that is the only dancing there will be at a graduation party.”

They soon scampered around to a fun rock song, laughing now and soon singing along, with the music. She giggled. “I don’t think you’ve lost your touch with these moves, Donovan.”

“My sisters taught my brother and me. They liked to dance. It was a good way of having free fun, and there were some fun free dances down at the lake pavilion near our house in the summertime.”

“What were your sisters names?”

“Susie and Pamela, younger than Ben and me, but they dragged us down to the pavilion so they’d have someone to dance with.”

“You know I was an only child,” she said. “You’re lucky to have sisters and a brother.”

“Who taught you to dance?”

“I took ballet as a girl, dance lessons later, too.”

“Uh, oh,” he said. “The waltzing I do is more back and forth and traveling around the room. Nobody got into the box step or formal stuff down at the pavilion. Do you think I’ll need to know that?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. Let’s see what you can do.”

They waltzed around the room then, not always smoothly, but close. It felt nice being this close to Sophia Wilton and he could feel her against him, soft and warm, and after a time they both grew quiet, their heartbeats kicking up.

As the music stopped, he looked down at her and saw her wet her lips. And there was a moment, a fine moment, before she pulled back and said, “I think you’ve got this, Donovan.”

She moved to find her purse. “I probably need to head for the house now. And we both have work tomorrow.”

After carrying some glasses to the kitchen, she came back and smiled at him. “You’re going to be a big hit at the graduation party next Saturday night. I hope you wow both your boss and his daughter and that everything turns out as you hoped.”

He stood looking at her. “Well, if everything goes well it will be because of you, Sophia. Thank you. I’ll always be grateful for the time you’ve spent with me.” He smiled. “We’ve had fun, too, haven’t we?”

“Absolutely.” She grinned. “And I’ll expect you to meet me at the diner for lunch one day next week to tell me how everything went.”

“I’ll do that,” he said as she headed toward the door.

The next Saturday, leaving the big party at the Overton Center, Donovan checked his GPS directions to remind himself of the way to Sophia’s house. He didn’t want to wait until next week to tell her how things had gone.

Finding her house, he parked and walked to the door to knock. Sophia peeked out the glass panel by the door and then grinned at him as she opened the door to him. “What are you doing here, Donovan? Is the party already over?”

She stood back to look at him. “Oh, look how handsome you look in that navy suit. So sharp, so polished and suave. And I can see from your smug look that things went well.”

He looked at her, dressed in old shorts and a T-shirt, barefooted with her hair loose around her shoulders. “I didn’t want to wait until next week to see you again,” he told her.

She smiled. “Well, I am tickled you couldn’t wait to tell me about everything. Come in and sit down. Dad’s at an evening wedding shoot tonight or I’d call him to come say hello and see how fine you look.”

Donovan took a breath. “Mr. and Mrs. Overton were stunned at the change in me, even though Mr. Overton had noticed a few times that I was working on making myself over.”

“And Tiffany?” she asked.

“She didn’t snub me tonight.” He laughed. “She didn’t recognize me. I danced well enough to suit her. She suggested we might want to see more of each other. We spent time together and talked, but here’s the thing, Sophia. I couldn’t work up any feelings for her. I didn’t even like spending time with her. All I could think about was how much I wished you were there with me, talking and laughing with me, dancing with me.” He took a breath. “I’m in love with you, Sophia Winton. This may not be the correct way to do things, but it’s the way I’m doing things tonight.”

When he saw her lip tremble and the tears start in her eyes, he swooped her up to kiss her as he realized he’d wanted to do for a long time.

“Oh, Donovan, are you sure?” she asked.

“As sure as I am there’s a moon out tonight, and I sure am hoping I’m not the only one realizing the teacher and the student have a thing going here.”

She laughed. “Honestly, Donovan, you were so cute from the first, I think that’s why I said yes to your crazy idea for a makeover.”

He kissed her again. “So you liked me even back then with my mop hair and pea green suit?”

Sophia giggled. “Well, maybe not the suit or the bright red socks, but I liked the man even then.”

He put a hand to her face. “I am stronger, better, and more confident from learning all the things I have with you. I needed a little makeover, but I’ve learned I need you, too, Sophie Winton, and I want to marry you. You can count this as an official proposal.”

She put a hand to her heart. “But what about your boss, Donovan?”

He pulled her over to sit on the couch beside him. “A few weeks back, I decided I didn’t like much a boss who would give me an ultimatum like he did. So I decided to find myself another job. I heard you mention the country club was expanding to add an event center for larger events and I suggested to the club’s owner that it might be advantageous to hire a good Operations and Events Manager for the club. He agreed. So I’ll be turning in notice and Larnelle will just have to find another potential suitor for his daughter.”

“Oh, this is wonderful. I know Mr. Simmons, who owns the club. He’s a fine man, Donovan. I think you’ll love working with him. He is hands-on at that club all the time, so well loved by all his employees.” She leaned in to hug him. “I want you to tell me everything as you start to work.”

“I will maybe later.” He put a hand on her face. “Right now, I’m hoping to hear a ‘yes, I’ll marry you Donovan Alistair’ from you and then maybe we won’t need any words for a time.”

“Yes, yes, Donovan Alistair. I love you and will marry you and …”

She didn’t get to add more because it was a time now for more actions than words.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.

FIFTEEN BRIDESMAID DRESSES – A free story

Imogene stood in the spare bedroom of the apartment she rented in Sylva, North Carolina, looking at herself in the mirror. “This is the fifteenth bridesmaid dress,” she said to herself. “Number Fifteen now.”

Glancing around at the dresses hanging on two dress racks near her, she sighed. There was suddenly something sad about the very number Fifteen, even if she’d never really hungered to get married, always wanting more for herself. She glanced back at herself in the mirror, a plain and ordinary dark-haired girl with hazel eyes, slimmer now after being chubby and overweight for much of her younger life but still unremarkable.

The door opened and her friend Frances stuck her head in. “Does your dress fit all right?”

“Yes,” she answered. “And at least Number Fifteen is green and a more attractive color on me than the others.”

Frances giggled. “Have you really been keeping count of your bridesmaid dresses?”

“Yes, I have, and this is definitely Number Fifteen. Look around you, Frances, and you’ll see all the other dresses hanging on the racks in here. I only use this extra room in the big apartment I rent for storage of things I don’t need.” She glanced around before looking back at herself in the mirror. “But suddenly it feels depressing to see all these bridesmaid dresses hanging here and not a white bridal dress in sight.”

“I thought you never wanted to get married. That’s what you always said.” Frances, with her plump figure and messy, curly hair, that seemed to always need a good brushing, sat down on an old chair in one corner.

“Frances, you said back in high school and college that you didn’t want to get married, either, but you got married.”

“I guess I did say that, mostly as a coverup I think because none of the boys in high school seemed to look at me twice or ever ask me out.”

“We were both a little frumpy and in the losers’ group in high school. Certainly not in the Elite Eight that ruled Swain High.”

Frances smiled. “But I got lucky and ran into Wesley Leland the summer after we graduated from college. His family has that landscaping business in Bryson City and somehow, through hanging around them after we got married, I got the courage to start my own catering business. So, I managed to have my own little business, like I always wanted, and to have Wesley, too. I’ve been happy.” She paused. “I thought you were, too. You went on to get your masters and doctorate and got on faculty at Southwestern teaching English and literature like you always wanted. I know you’re respected there.”

“I am and I love my job,” Imogene said. “Maybe it’s just the number. There were sixteen of us in our two big suites on the third floor of Duke Hall at the University of Georgia. You know that, and we always called ourselves The Sweet Sixteen and have continued to meet in our own reunions and gatherings through the years.  After this wedding of Suzanne’s, I’ll be the only single one of all our group, and you know they’re planning a big New Year’s Eve gathering next month during the holidays with all the husbands coming this time. I think it just hit me for the first time I’ll be the only single one there.”

“Well, you’ll also be one of the more successful ones of our group. You certainly look better than when we started college, too. You look very professional, Imogene. You’re Dr. Imogene Vogel now, too, a respected faculty member, not Imogenius Vogel like your old nickname in high school. Get over seeing yourself negatively. Mostly I was Fat Frances then. What a plastic time that was with so much silly stereotyping. We weren’t the only ones made fun of either. They called Andrea Stapleton, that was on the annual staff with you, Awful Andrea, and she runs her own design firm in Winston-Salem now. The Elite Eight used to ridicule Warner Zachery, now a well-known children’s author, calling him Weird Warner, and they laughed at Barry Jacobs, calling him Brainy Barry, and he owns a computer business in Bryson City. Leonard Goldstein, who you worked with on the annual staff and the school newspaper was nicknamed Loser Leonard, a little nerdy and rough in looks then but now he owns the Bryson City newspaper and is well-respected in the community. People move on, Imogene. You shouldn’t let those old high school monikers bother you.”

“Easy to say, but I know you still flinch around a lot of those snobby girls who called us names that still live in Bryson City. I’ve been with you a few times when we’ve run into them.”

“Especially in the drug store where they still hang out at their old booth as if reminding the world that they still are better than the rest of us.” She stood up. “But we’ve moved on from those days, and we’re going to a gorgeous wedding for Suzanne Simpson, who we both love, a sweet girl, even if rich as all get out, at the gorgeous Georgian Hall in downtown Athens. You know it’s a fabulous place and we’re staying overnight after the rehearsal dinner. Cheer up. We’re going to have a great time. Put that dress on a hanger and get your suitcase and let’s hit the road.”

Imogen turned to grin at Frances. “You’re right. We’ll have a great time.” However, in the back of Imogene’s mind she was already coming up with an excuse not to attend the big New Year’s Eve gathering where everyone would be there with their spouses, married, except for her.

The rehearsal was going well, everyone in more casual dress for that, until Imogene looked across the room at a group of groomsmen laughing and realized she knew one of them. “Oh, my gosh, it’s Leonard Goldstein,” she couldn’t help muttering to herself. “What in the world is he doing here?”

She slipped over behind a pillar to hide for a moment and try to decide what to do. She could still hear Leonard’s voice, laughing and making jokes with his friends. If he saw her would he make jokes and tell everyone about her past? The girls she’d lived with in the dorm here in Georgia didn’t know her past. She was not that awkward girl from high school anymore and hardly wanted others to know what she’d once been like.

Imogene glanced around. With the rehearsal over, maybe she could slip out one of the side doors until everyone left, then slip back in to get her coat and purse before starting back to their hotel. It was only a block away.  With such a big wedding and so many guests tomorrow, maybe Leonard wouldn’t notice her as he might tonight. And with so many people milling around at the big buffet rehearsal dinner and dance after, he would be less likely to recognize her. She’d have her hair up then and be dressed in green like all the other bridesmaids, blending into the crowd more.

Imogene slipped outside to a little balconied area for a few moments, leaving the noise of the rehearsal gathering behind.  It was chilly but not too cold under the covered balcony.

As she leaned against the railing in relief, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Are you all right, Imogene? I thought I recognized you and then saw you slip out, looking upset.”

Turning to face the inevitable, she saw Leonard standing there watching her. “Hello, Leonard. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Imogene made an effort to smile, and then watched his face change.

Looking away for a moment, he said in a softer voice. “You were trying to avoid me, weren’t you, Imogene?”

Sorry to realize she might have hurt him, she smiled and said, “I’m sorry for that, Leonard. It’s just that seeing you brought a rush of old memories back.” She paused. “I know you love to joke and jest and I was suddenly afraid you might say something sort of derogatory.”

He shook his head. “Like call you Imogenius Vogel? I’d hardly risk that when you’d probably pop back and call me Loser Leonard. I’d just as soon leave that old past behind, too.”

She felt embarrassed. “So would I.”

“Actually, your name wasn’t as bad as mine if you think about it. At least you were termed a genius versus a loser.” He grinned. “Those old names hurt, didn’t they? And they kept high school from being the good time it should have been for many of us, you, me, Warner, Anna, and Barry.”

“And Frances,” she added. “She was my roommate in college. We’re both here as bridesmaids for one of our suite mates, Suzanne.”

He laughed then, that warm, rich laugh she remembered. “So, you’re one of the Sweet Sixteen,” he said. “I think my friend Harold said his bride-to-be, Suzanne, is the last of them to be married.”

“No, the last in that role would be me.”

“You aren’t married yet?”

“No, are you? I heard you’d taken over the newspaper and added several small local papers to your family’s old business. I always knew you’d do well.”

“No, I’m not married yet, either.” He smiled. “You were one of the few who encouraged and believed in me back then. You also corrected a lot of my copy when we worked on the school newspaper and the annual together. I might have offered you a copyediting job with the paper if you hadn’t soared up academically and become a professor. I’ve seen some nice write-ups about you in the Southwestern newspaper, and I actually saw you march in with the other faculty at a graduation I once attended.”

“I don’t remember seeing you.”

“Like you tonight, I was probably avoiding you, hating to think of how you’d remember that awkward, somewhat geeky boy I was then.”

She studied him. “You look very nice, Leonard.”

“No longer pudgy with that mass of curly hair drooping in my eyes, a variety of pimples on my face, and baggy shirts and pants,” he interrupted to add.

“Well, I could say worse about my looks. Hardly goth like Anna’s, but with those colorful gypsy skirts, terrible color combinations in clothes, long hair down my back, big horn-rimmed glasses, and usually an armful of bracelets.”

“I never made good choices in eyeglasses either.” He stopped to adjust his and study her. “I think these do look better, don’t you, and you must be wearing contacts now.”

She smiled at him, beginning to relax. “Those glasses do look good on you. I still have a few pairs of glasses but I wear contacts more now. You really do look good, Leonard. You’ve come a long way from those old days.”

“It’s cold out here.” He glanced back inside. “Let’s go sit inside at that little table by the door.” He pointed to it. “The crowd is breaking up, but I’d like to talk for a few more minutes, so you won’t feel like running away from me tomorrow. There is a dinner and a dance after the wedding, and I remember you’re a good dancer. You were one of the few people who didn’t dread dancing with me at our school dances. I hope you’ll be kind and dance with me then.”

“Sure,” she said, remembering Leonard one of the few boys who ever asked her to dance at school dances. She owed him.

They slipped inside to sit at a small round table with two chairs, tucked beside the balcony window. After a little chit chat, he sighed. “Are you going to that big New Year’s reunion thing I’ve been hearing Harold talk about that the Sweet Sixteens are having New Years at the Brasstown Resort?”

Feeling more like being candid now, she said honestly. “If I can think of any way to get out of it, no. All the husbands are coming this year, and, frankly, I hate being the only single one there.”

“I know the feeling.”  He nodded. “My old fraternity at the University of Tennessee is having a big reunion over the Christmas holidays. Harold Geoltz, who is marrying Suzanne—which is the reason I’m a groomsman here—is really razzing me about being one of the few remaining bachelors. I think they’ve cooked up some ways to mess with me about that in some of their speeches and antics. I’m really dreading it.”

“Too bad we’re not both at least engaged to someone.” She laughed. “I’m getting a lot of comments from the Sweet Sixteen girls now, too, those kind, patronizing comments with the underlying message that there’s something wrong with you for still being single.”

“Here, here!” He laughed, but then he fell silent looking away.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said after a minute. “I imagine a few people saw us slip off together. Why don’t we pretend we used to have a wild thing for each other, rediscovered each other here, renewed that old relationship, and have decided to get engaged. This will take the heat off both of us. We can dance and make eyes at each other tomorrow in front of everyone to make it more believable. Even your friend Frances. We can tell Frances we had a secret thing going we didn’t want anyone to know about.”

“Why would we want to do that just for this wedding?”

“You’re missing the point,” he said leaning forward. “As an engaged couple, you can go to my fraternity reunion with me with all the other guys’ wives or girlfriends coming up next month and I can go with you as your fiance to the big Sweet Sixteen party with all your friends for the New Year’s Eve weekend.”

Imogene frowned. “You want to pretend to get engaged just so we’ll look good at two upcoming events?”

“What would it hurt? It would solve both our problems of going as we are and not having a good time.” He paused. “Also, I think we could have a great time together, Imogene. We know each other. We get along. We went to school together, know each other’s families.”

She crossed her arms. “Well, I personally think we’d need to get together to get our stories more straight about this. It’s been almost ten years since we’ve seen each other or spent any time together. An engaged couple would be a lot more up to date about each other than we are, Leonard, even if I would consider the idea.”

He threw up two hands. “No problem. We’ll get together sometime before then, talk and catch up on everything, and plan our strategy. I’ve been building a house on the mountain just outside Bryson City, up on Fontana Ridge Road. It’s finished and furnished, in part. You can come up one weekend and we’ll plan everything out. We’ll both have some time off for the Thanksgiving holidays.”

“Maybe.” She thought about it. “I might stay over a night so we can talk but …” She hesitated. “Just to talk, Leonard. I want to make that clear. I’m not very modern-thinking in other ways.  You should know that. We went to church together.”

“I’m not very modern-thinking that way either, Imogene.” He pulled out his phone. “Thanksgiving is next week on Thursday. I know you have family stuff like I do that day, but what about Friday after? Business is always light for Thanksgiving weekend. I like to give all my people at the paper a light load to have time to spend with families, and you should be off for the holiday at school, right? We can meet up at the house at about five to six.”

He pulled out his phone. “Give me your email and phone and I’ll send you directions and everything. We can cook at the house Friday night and rustle up breakfast the next morning. I’ll get food in. Just bring yourself and whatever things you’ll need.”

Seeing her reluctance, he grinned. “Think of it as an adventure, Imogene. It will be fun. After the holidays, we can always let people know we’ve decided to break things off. No harm done to anyone but both of our holiday problems resolved. Won’t that be great?”

She passed along her information to him, getting his phone, email, and contact information, too. “Do you think this is really a good idea, basically lying to everyone.”

He grinned. “It’s just for the holiday, a good, practical, resourceful idea for two intelligent people in an awkward spot, and who does it hurt?”

While deciding whether she should really do this or not, Frances came around the corner. “There you are, Imogene. I’ve been looking for you so we can head back to the hotel.” She paused and then grinned. “Well, hi, Leonard.”

“Hi, yourself, Frances.” He stood up, reaching over to squeeze Imogene’s hands before he did and winking at her. “Imogene and I have just been enjoying a little private time catching up, a couple of old secret sweethearts remembering some good times.”

Frances eyes widened, and Imogene felt like kicking Leonard.

“It’s probably the reason neither of us has hooked up with anyone else in all these years,” he said. “That young love stuff is strong. Stays with you, makes it hard to see anyone else as a possibility.”

Caught in the web of this plot now and with Leonard abetting it, Imogene just smiled, getting up herself to leave with Frances.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Imogene,” he said, leaning over to kiss her right on the mouth in front of Frances.

As they walked away, Frances said, “I had no idea you and Leonard ever had a relationship back in high school, but you did spend a lot of time together.”

Well, I’m in for it now with Frances, Imogene thought.

The wedding and the next week flew by. Imogene thought about calling Leonard to call the whole thing off a hundred times at least, but she could never bring herself to pick up the phone to do it. In truth, she’d loved his warm attentions at the wedding, dancing with him, pretending they were a couple. He’d caught her at a vulnerable time with the Fifteenth Bridesmaid dress still stirring up her emotions.  The beautiful wedding in Athens had further stirred her odd discontent with her life. Admittedly, she yearned for the love and joy she saw between Suzanne and Harold. Would it hurt to pretend a little longer? She had so little practice with boyfriends and dating. Maybe this time would help to teach her more what to do and how to act for the future. She had to admit she enjoyed the dizzy little feelings she’d experienced when Leonard had sneaked that kiss, held her close dancing later, the winks he’d given her, even the way he’d started looking at her as if she was beautiful and desirable.

The weather turned bitter cold on Thanksgiving with flurries around the area the next day but snow was not predicted. So, Imogene packed her car later in the day and started her trip from Sylva to Bryson City after texting Leonard to let him know she was on her way.

Leonard’s house on the mountain was beautiful, a cape cod with a broad covered front porch looking out toward the Smoky Mountains in the distance. The road to it, just outside Bryson City, wound in and out up the mountain but, once arriving, the view was spectacular. Coming out on the porch to meet her and taking her bags to carry them inside, he said, “What do you think?”

“It’s a stunning place.”

“I’d always wanted a mountain place, and a property with views, so I could sit out on my porch and enjoy looking across the mountains, a break from the stresses of the newspaper.” He let her in the house. “Some of the news I cover can be grim and depressing.”

Inside, Imogene looked around at a big, rustic living area with a rock fireplace, reaching back to a dining and kitchen area behind. Overhead and up the stairs a wide railed balcony looked down from the floor above. The quick tour Leonard gave her around the house revealed three bedrooms, one downstairs and two up, a cozy den upstairs, a small office, and a game room.

“My bedroom is downstairs,” he said, “but I thought you’d like this room upstairs.” He led her to a pretty upstairs bedroom for her overnight, decorated in blues, with a bath right next door.

“This will be perfect and the views are stunning,” she said.

If it had been anyone but Leonard she planned to spend a night with Imogene might have felt uncomfortable, but she’d known Leonard since their grammar school days. She could trust him or deal with him if he got out of hand. They needed this time to talk everything through for the two big events upcoming. In a sense, she looked forward to going to both now and she liked the idea of having a partner for them, so used to being a single.

Leonard had picked up dinner at a local restaurant they only needed to reheat. With the temperatures turning colder and the wind howling around the house as dark fell, they didn’t sit out on the porch, but Imogene could imagine it lovely in fine, warm weather.

After dinner, Leonard built a roaring fire and they sat and talked and talked, catching up on their lives. Imogene had been an only child, her parents now living over the mountain in Maryville. Her mother was a teacher there in high school, her father still in banking. Leonard had two younger sisters, both gone from home now, married and living away, but his parents still lived in Bryson City. A voracious reader like herself, they talked about books, her teaching, interesting news Leonard had covered at the paper, how he’d grown the business. In the background, they listened to old seventies and eighties favorites by the Bee Gees, Stevie Wonder, Olivia Newton John and The Pointer Sisters.

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked after a time, when they felt comfortable that they knew each other better for their charades ahead.

“All right,” she answered. “Something on TV?”

“No, an old favorite we both love.” He held up a CD movie of Grease.

She laughed. “Do you think we can still sing along with all the songs?”

“As many times as our old group watched this film, I’m sure we can, and we can still do the moves for the Hand Jive, too.”

Imogene went to bed happy later. They’d shared a warm, congenial, and fun evening. Older now, they weren’t uncomfortable with themselves, worrying they might say or do the wrong thing, feeling they needed to hide their talents and strengths or be made fun of for holding them. It had not been easy for either of them being so academically gifted in high school.

The next morning, she woke up to the smell of coffee and breakfast in the works. She’d showered the night before, so it didn’t take her long to dress and head downstairs, but as she got to the bottom of the stairs, her mouth dropped open looking outside.

“We got a little snow outside,” Leonard commented.

She put a hand to her mouth. “Leonard, it’s a white wonderland out there. There must be four inches on the ground. Did you know it would snow like this?”

He shook his head. “No. Of course not. It was cold and there were some flurries yesterday, but the earlier weather reports said only snow possible in the higher elevations.” He came over to stand beside her where she’d walked to look out  one of the big windows down the mountain side. “We were having such a good time, I never thought to tune in to the weather again. If and when the forecast changed I didn’t know about it, Imogene.”

“But look at the roads. I can’t get down the mountain in this.”

“No. It’s too dangerous and too icy. I’ve already checked the forecast and road conditions We’re stuck for a while until the sun melts some of this off. But temps are warming. I hope later today we can get out.” He started back toward the kitchen. “The good news is we haven’t lost power, have lots of firewood and food. So, we’re good.”

Upset, Imogene trailed into the kitchen after him. “This is so upsetting. I know people will be expecting us back. I don’t want gossip starting. I had excuses for a night away but not more.”

“It will be okay, Imogene. Pour us both a cup of coffee and get some creamer out of the refrigerator while I scramble these eggs.”

“Okay,” she said. “What else can I do?”

“Pour some juice, get out some butter and jelly for the biscuits.” He pointed toward the oven. “I popped in some of those frozen ones for us; they should be done now.”

They ate, watching news and weather reports on the television. After breakfast, Leonard made calls to some of his staff on the newspaper, popping requests and orders, letting them know he’d be delayed getting in.

After a time, Leonard built up the fire and came to sit beside her on the sofa.

“I had a bad feeling about this whole idea,” Imogene admitted to him. “Perhaps I should have listened to that check, not been so impulsive. Maybe this is a sign that we shouldn’t lie to people and pretend a relationship just to make a couple of social situations easier for us.”

She turned to see Leonard watching her. “I’m not sorry, Imogene,” he said. “I need to admit I contrived this whole thing just to get to spend time with you.” He sighed. “You’re going to think this sounds stupid, but I really did have a huge crush on you all the way through high school. But you were so smart and pretty and I was so geeky in looks then, with no athletic prowess and laughed at by most of the jocks and leaders as being a loser in school and life, I was afraid to even ask you to go out.”

Imogene turned to him in amazement. “You liked me and wanted to ask me out?”

“I did.”

“You thought I was pretty then?” She knew she was stunned at that.

“I thought so, curvy and pretty, with all that long dark hair down your back. I was always goofing around and pulling it and finding ways to tease you just to get closer to you.” He stopped. “You always smelled like strawberries. It must have been some cologne you wore.”

“It was just an inexpensive hand crème and body mist I wore and strawberry shampoo, Leonard, nothing fancy.”

“And I loved all those bright, floral skirts you wore and all those bracelets. You looked like a gypsy.”

“You liked that?” She felt amazed at his words.

“You’re going to think it’s dopey, but I fell in love with you back then, dreamed about you, thought a lot of inappropriate thoughts about you. Then I saw you at that wedding and thought maybe this was my chance. You were even prettier than I remembered, and when I saw you in that gorgeous green bridesmaid’s dress it was no act, Imogene, to pretend I loved you.”

He laughed and turned to look outside. “At least I know you can’t run out the door right now mad at me. I’m glad it snowed. It gives me more time with you.”

Imogene couldn’t even think what to say.

“Do you care for me at all, Imogene?”

She smiled then. “We spent so much time together in those years, Leonard, with our group of friends and with the two of us working on the annual and the school newspaper together. I feel silly saying it, but I had a little crush on you, too. It’s one of the reasons I ran off the other day. You looked so suave, competent, and at ease, laughing with all your friends. I was afraid you’d say something and laugh at me and that I’d feel embarrassed and awful. I always felt so foolish liking you then.”

Her words were cut off as Leonard pulled her into his arms and kissed her silly. Honestly, there was no other way to describe it. It was so sweet and good, with him murmuring love words to her, that she just wanted to giggle with the joy of it.

“Aren’t we a couple of nuts?” he said after a time, pulling away to thread his fingers in her hair and then down her cheek. “All this time caring and both of us just holding it in and dreaming.” He leaned in to kiss her again, a bit more passionately than before, making her heart beat quicken and her whole body seem to come alive.

Leonard pulled away and dropped to one knee by the couch. “Imogene Vogel, I hope you’ll agree to make our fake engagement a real one and marry me. I promise I will always cherish you and love and respect you.”

“Yes, Leonard. I say yes.” She leaned in to kiss him back.

He grinned at her then after a few moments. “You were telling me all the colors of bridesmaid dresses you have. Maybe you can give one to every bridesmaid in our wedding and we can have a multi-color wedding. I don’t think there are any colors left to use.”

“No, I’m going to have deep red burgundy bridesmaid dresses. No one has had burgundy dresses, and you can be sure I’m inviting a lot of bridesmaids to be in my wedding, too. I’m due a lot of return from my friends for all those fifteen dresses I’ve bought.”

“Will you be okay living here with me? It’s only 24 minutes from Bryson City to Sylva.”

“I love your house, Leonard and I’ll love living her. But I think I’m going to keep my garage apartment beside Mrs. Merton’s big house, too. On days like this when we have snow in the mountains I can walk to campus and my classes, and when I have late meetings I can stay over. You won’t mind, will you? The rent isn’t much because Ruth Merton was a good friend of my mother’s.”

“Whatever you want, Imogene.” He pulled her close to kiss her again.

As they snuggled on the couch in front of the fire, Imogene smiled to herself. Finally, a bride and not just a bridesmaid. And, in truth, she needed to figure out something to do with those fifteen bridesmaid dresses.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

EXTRA NOTE: To run into Leonard and Imogene again … and many of their old high school friends you read about in this story, look for my book set in Bryson City, North Carolina, called DADDY’S GIRL, in print or eBook versions through major retailers in store and online.

 

 

 

Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.

Etta slipped in the back door off the old service porch of their big Antebellum home at Hilton Head, hoping to clean up from her swim at the beach before her mother spotted her. She’d just slipped out of her flip-flops, propped her surfboard against the wall, and was toweling her hair, when she heard the door to the house open.

“Hi, Mother,” she called out.

Her mother crossed her arms, obviously angry. “I hope you realize Ettarae Catherine Baynard that we’ve been looking for you for the last several hours. This was no time to head down to the beach for a swim when you know we are heading to Charleston to your Grandmother Baynard’s for the weekend. In case you have forgotten, you have a Debutante Ball to attend tonight.”

“It’s not even noon and the waves were high this morning after that big storm last night.” Etta hung her towel on a peg on the wall. “You said we weren’t leaving until after lunch.”

“But look at you, covered in salt and sand, your hair a mess.” She shook her head. “I’m still upset at you, too, for chopping off your hair, knowing this ball was scheduled. My hairdresser had to trim and shape your hair to make it look decent for the ball tonight. She said she could pull it back. style it in a small bun and tuck a pearl comb in it to make it look stylish. As you might have forgotten, you are due there shortly for her to do exactly that.”

Etta made a face. “Teresa will make my hair look pretty, Mother. Don’t worry, and you know the requisite long white dress, elbow length gloves, and shoes are all laid out and ready to go. I mean, it’s just a fancy dance party.”

“You know it’s much more than that. It is a coveted honor to attend the St. Ceceilia Society Ball at the Hibernian Hall in Charleston. It is an exclusive debutante event to introduce young women into society, and I am deeply disappointed you don’t see it as the honor it is to be invited. Your Grandmother Baynard has worked hard to see that you were invited and she is sponsoring you. It would deeply distress her and your father if you don’t conduct yourself there as you should.”

“I will mother. I’ve gone to all the preliminary classes in Charleston to prepare. I’ve been coached in how to walk in correctly on my father’s arm to be presented, how to curtsey properly, how to sit down and stand up, how to act and dance at every point as a proper St. Cecelia debutante should.” She lifted her chin. “I won’t embarrass you, but let’s not pretend we don’t all know this ball is about introducing me to wealthy, suitable young men from equally wealthy, suitable backgrounds for an appropriate marriage. I feel like a piece of prime cattle being auctioned off.”

Her mother gasped. “Ettarae, the ball is to introduce you into polite society not to auction you off for marriage.”

Etta put a hand on her hip. “You’ve certainly been passing off enough hints about the suitability of James Daniels who is my escort for the ball, quoting all sorts of facts about his family’s background, his opportunities in his family’s business.”

“He’s a very nice-looking and well-mannered young man. Your father and I have been very impressed with him the times he came by to visit. Jeoffrey Hogue, who lives here on Hilton Head will be at the ball, too, escorting your cousin Rachel Sue. We all like Jeoffrey, too, and I can tell he is interested in you as well. I wish you wouldn’t put him off so often.”

“I’m enjoying my college studies in Beaufort at the University branch there. I’ve only been out of high school a little over a year. Schooling is important, too, don’t you think?”

“It is.” She sighed. “Let’s not argue more. You need to go get a shower and eat a little lunch so we can head to your grandmother’s. Your father will be here soon. He’s taking off from work to go with us to your grandmother’s, presenting you tonight, too. Please try to be sweet and kind to everyone and to act in a way to bring honor to your grandmother and to us, Etta. And please try to think of this as a lovely occasion and a beautiful honor. I think one day you will look back and see it as that.”

Impulsively Etta hugged her mother. “I’ll behave beautifully, Mother. I love Grandmother Baynard, too. I wouldn’t want to embarrass her with all her friends. And I know this means a lot to her.”

“Thank you, Ettarae.” Her mother stood back and surveyed her. “You’re a very beautiful young woman, despite all your tomboy ways and unconventional ideas. But you are very smart, a gifted girl. I want you to know we are proud of you. You’re our only daughter and our only girl. After having your brothers, Vincent and Chandler, I was very delighted to have a little girl at last when you were born.”

“Well, let me go and get dressed.” Etta smiled at her mother.

As she headed upstairs, Etta thought of the many ways she knew her mother had been a little disappointed she wasn’t more of a girly girl over the years, but more a tomboy, chasing around after her two older brothers, surfing, kayaking, and swimming at the beach near their home at Hilton Head, South Carolina, excelling in sports and the debate team at school. Despite all their talk to the contrary, she knew, too, her family was husband-hunting for her, just as they’d wife-hunted for her brothers, and she felt those expectations heavy on her heart.

Later in the evening, in a long white dress, elbow-length white gloves, and white shoes, her dark hair, streaked with sun, neatly arranged behind her neck, she walked in to the Hiberian Hall’s assembly room on the arm of her father to be presented to Charleston society. Her father and all the men were dressed in formal tuxedos, the women dressed to the nines in rich formal evening gowns. Twelve girls were being presented at the St. Cecelia Ball tonight, presented either by their mothers or grandmothers, most being escorted in on the arm of their own father.

After being presented, Eleanor was passed off onto the arm of her escort for the evening to parade around the room in a proper way, with all the guests watching and probably inwardly judging her. Eleanor kept her social smile in place and, at the end of her parade around the room, offered another curtsy before taking her place in a designated line to see the other girls make their way around the room. The name of the promenade around the room was called “the figure” and most of the girls here tonight were about eighteen years old in age.

Her escort James Daniels was a congenial young man, if a little stuffy. He seemed to enjoy all this heraldry and, actually, she had noticed in their presentation classes that he was attracted to her cousin Rachel Sue Harrington. They both lived in Charleston, and she felt sure James would find a way to have a dance with Rachel Sue after their lavish formal dinner and probably call on her later, too. Joeffrey Hogue was here, too. He had family in Charleston, like she did, and he had been asked to escort her cousin Rachel Sue.

At dinner, she was seated with Joeffrey to one side of her, another escort on the other side. Etta had noticed him when he came in. He felt different from the other boys in many ways, looked older, confident and sure of himself in a way not the norm for the younger boys. As his arm brushed against hers, she felt a little shiver of awareness, too.

Catching her eye, he smiled at her then. “I thought I should introduce myself,” he said. “I’m Lloyd Deveaux.”

“I’m Ettarae Baynard,” she replied, not recognizing his name from the list of escorts of the evening and searching her memory for any Deveauxs she knew.

Seeming to sense her thoughts, he said, “I’m a substitute escort tonight. A Naval friend of mine scheduled to be an escort, Alden Tyree, slipped on a rainy sidewalk yesterday and broke his leg.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I liked Alden at our presentation classes. He had a sense of humor and made our classes more fun and less stuffy.”

“That sounds like Alden, and if you’re trying to place my family, you might say we’re on the outskirts of good society. The Deveauxs link back through marriage to the Townsends and other families who were early land-owners on Edisto Island.”

She smiled. “I seem to recall the Townsends owned several plantations and owned all the land where Seabrook Plantation is now and used it for hunting grounds.”

He grinned. “You know your history.”

“I love history. It’s my major at college.”

Etta answered his questions about her studies for a moment, and then asked, “You said Alden was a Naval friend. Were you in the Navy also?”

“I was. A Citadel graduate like Alden and I just came off active duty as an officer.” He smiled. “I’m probably a little older than most of the young men here tonight acting as escorts.”

Etta tallied up the years in her mind, realizing Lloyd Deveaux at least ten years her senior. No wonder he seemed so much older and more confident with himself.

As polite social behavior required, she shifted her attention to talk to rhe other escort on her right and to those across from her for a few moments, while eating her dinner in-between. She noticed Lloyd doing the same, hearing his warm laughter bubble out at one time. When she could, without drawing attention to herself, she turned to him again.

“What are you doing now that you’ve retired from the Navy, Lloyd?”

He chuckled and then leaned closer to her. “I am a Lighthouse Keeper, not the sort of answer that draws ooohs and aaahs here, but the Deveaux family have kept the light at the Deveaux Lighthouse since the 1800s and now the family also run the Deveaux Inn that welcomes visitors from all over the United States and abroad. It is a somewhat unconventional life but one I love. The sea is in my blood and working in and near it is richly satisfying. Our family is proud we’ve kept our land and continue to keep the light and to welcome tourists to our island home to visit and learn about the history of our past and of the lighthouse.”

Etta leaned toward him, putting a hand to her chest. “I kept thinking your name sounded familiar. I know that lighthouse and island. My brothers and I have boated there in past, took the tour of the lighthouse. It was fascinating. The entire light station the lighthouse is situated on is large, too, if I recall.”

“The island is 500 acres, and I’m glad you enjoyed your trip there.”

As their dinner ended and everyone began to move toward the ballroom where the dancing would be held, Lloyd Deveaux leaned toward her, a little too close actually, to say, “I hope I can have a dance or two with you Miss Ettarae Baynard. You have been by far the most captivating woman I have met this evening. I’m aware it is unsuitable of me to say that, so you must feel free to snub me if the feelings are not returned.”

Etta’s eyes flew wide and she felt her heart skip a beat as he gave a little bow over her hand, as if they were only exchanging the normal polite greetings expected.

With a little boldness, she said softly, “I shall look forward to that of all things Mr. Deveaux.”

“I will seek you out for the second dance then. Keep your dance card open,” he teased, and then he turned away to head toward the hall where the dancing would soon begin.

“Who was that man you were talking with so much?” her mother asked, moving to walk with her to the ladies room before they went on to the dance hall.

“Just one of the escorts.” She shrugged, not wanting her mother to censure any of the following moments she might have with Lloyd Deveaux.

Of course, he danced like a dream, smooth, confident, and the little feelings that had tickled her consciousness at dinner swept through her even more deeply as they danced the second dance and two others he could arrange without overly drawing notice to his attentions. Every moment with him was a thrill she found it impossible to deny. Etta, tomboyish and independent all these years, felt overwhelmed with feelings quite new to her. Was this the romance she’d read about in books but never experienced?

As everyone moved to the foyer for coffee and some final polite conversation and goodbyes before leaving, Lloyd came to bow to her. With no one nearby, he said softly, taking her gloved hand, “You have been the delight of my evening. If you would wish to further our acquaintance, I will take you to dinner this week after your classes at the college this Tuesday evening. You mentioned the class ended at about four-thirty. Come down to the waterfront on Front Street after and we will eat at Clawson’s Restaurant, a favorite of mine there. I’ll meet you at one of the benches across the street from the restaurant on the waterfront.” He paused. “Do you know that spot?”

She nodded a yes. Seeing others moving their way, Lloyd tucked a slip of paper into her glove. Later, when she could peek at it privately she found a phone number scribbled on it.

Of course, Etta didn’t have to go to meet Lloyd Deveaux but she did. Not once but many times and their relationship grew quickly into a delightful one. They talked and walked together along the waterfront, went to movies at the Breeze Theatre, ate at Clawson’s or other spots Lloyd knew about. He usually boated in and parked his boat at the marina nearby. But they had her car if they wanted to venture further away.

As they grew serious, Lloyd took her to the island to meet his family at the Lighthouse Inn where they lived. Lloyd came to meet her family at Hilton Head, too. Things did not go well at either visit.

“How long have you been seeing that man?” her mother asked immediately after he left. My friend Marguerite said she saw you with a man one evening in Beaufort at the Clawson Restaurant. I didn’t pry but was that Lloyd?”

“Yes.” Etta saw no point in denying it. “I ran into Lloyd on the waterfront after class one evening, and we went to dinner together. I’d enjoyed his company at the ball. I admit we began to see each other more after that.”

A week later, both her parents cornered her after dinner. Her father said, “Etta, your mother and I feel you should not see Lloyd Deveaux any more. Your mother says you’re attracted to him, but Etta, he is not of our world. He works with his parents running an inn and lighthouse on an island at the north end of Edisto Island. An island, Etta. When they want to go anywhere they have to get in a boat. They welcome people of all sorts to their inn. Mrs. Deveaux cooks and cleans and intermingles with all these people. Mr. Deveaux and Lloyd, too, now that he is home from the Navy, do menial work on that island. They give tours to the general public. All sorts of riff raff come there and the family interacts with them. They entertain them. Etta, this is not your world.”

Her mother jumped in then. “You’ve been raised in a different life. What part could you play with a family like that if you allowed yourself to get more serious about this man? You’ve never even held a part-time job.”

“Not for not asking to do so,” Etta countered. “I got offers but you would never let me take any of them.”

“Our point of discussion is not about that, Etta,” her father interrupted. “We don’t like to interfere in your life. But we don’t want you continuing a relationship with Lloyd Deveaux. You may find Lloyd appealing, but I don’t think you understand what would be expected of you if you considered marrying into his family.  They are not people of our social class.”

“You’re being snobby in how you talk.” Etta stomped her foot. “The Deveaux family are well-educated people of an excellent background; they are not poor. They own a 500-acre island, run a major business with a historic lighthouse, a beautiful, prestigious inn with its own marina, lodge, rental cottages, walking and biking trails, and a lovely beach front. They have staff for much of the work at their business operations. They are good, honorable people.”

Etta’s mother sat up straighter in her chair. “You’re being stubborn about this Etta, but your father and I are in agreement that this relationship not be continued.”

“You don’t even know the Deveaux family,” she began to argue again.

“Actually, we do know them,” her father said. “We went to see them when we learned you and Lloyd had started an attraction. It might not please you to hear this but Mr. and Mrs. Deveaux are not pleased with the attraction between you and Lloyd either. He is their only son, and they feel Lloyd needs to align with a strong woman who can work side by side with Lloyd to run the inn and lighthouse.”

Her mother continued. “Mrs. Deveaux admitted it is a lot of work keeping everything running smoothly, managing the inn and the staff. She and Mr. Deveaux are getting older. The lighthouse and inn have been in the family for generations. They are thrilled that Lloyd has retired and come home to take his place with their business and legacy. They do not feel you are a suitable wife for him, not used to a working lifestyle and raised to fulfill a different role.”

Etta, shocked, started to cry. “You went to see them without even asking me? That was wrong of you.”

“No,” her father stated. “The Deveauxs were equally concerned. The alliance is not one they feel is right for Lloyd. Both families agree that your friendship shouldn’t proceed any further. As Mr. Deveaux also noted, Lloyd is also over ten years older than you.”

Her mother said, “The Deveauxs are speaking to Lloyd about this, too.”

Etta, hurt, wanted to scream. How could they all try to decide what was right for Lloyd and her?

Her father cleared his throat. “I know you have plans to see Lloyd this week. So talk to him. Make it clear that you need to step away from the relationship.”

Her mother patted her arm. “I imagine his family have similarly advised him. I know you’ve grown fond of each other but some things are not meant to be.”

Etta sat crying, not even knowing what to say.

As her father left the room, her mother leaned forward. “That handsome Joeffrey Hogue came by this week to supposedly deliver some club literature from his mother but I know it was on pretext to see you. Joeffrey is in line to proceed his father in their business, and you know they own property all over Hilton Head. They’re in our social set, too. His mother Loretta hinted to me earlier this week that Joeffrey has been thinking it’s time to settle down, too.”

Etta couldn’t believe her mother thought relationships were just something you tried on and took off like shoes. Did she not see, too, that Joeffrey was narrow in his interests, boring in conversation, and borderline narcissistic? And obviously they could not see all that was good and fine in Lloyd and who knew what Lloyd or his family felt after her parents went to see them. How totally humiliating.

Tuesday, after classes, Etta wondered if Lloyd would even come to meet with her again. But she spotted him soon, sitting on a bench by the waterfront, looking out toward the boats on the Beaufort River.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” she said, walking over to sit beside him. He wore cargo shorts today and an old khaki green shirt.

He smiled at her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come either.” He glanced over her jeans and at the long-sleeved gray shirt she wore.

“I was too depressed to get dressed up and I cut class this afternoon.”

He stood, reaching out to take her hand. “Let’s go for a ride in my boat, find a quiet place where we can talk. Clear our heads on the way.”

They walked down to the marina, climbed into Lloyd’s Sea Ray and soon headed down the Beaufort River, pulling his boat up to a little deserted beach near The Sands below Port Royal.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said, taking her hand to help her out of the boat.

They walked quietly along the beach by the shoreline for a time, the wind blowing in from the water, the waves washing in and out on the sand.

Finally, he turned to her and took her hands. “I know our parents have had a lot to say about our lives and have decided we wouldn’t suit.”

Etta bit her lip trying not to cry.

“However, they’ve overlooked one important fact. I love you Ettarae Catherine Baynard. I don’t care if you’re a President’s daughter or a poor carpenter’s kid. I knew somehow the moment I saw you at that Debutante Ball that you were the one for me. I haven’t loved a lot of women but I know I love you.”

“But your parents think …” she began.

“My parents don’t know you like I do,” he interrupted. “I think you could learn anything you wanted to learn, do anything you wanted to do, that you are tougher and stronger and smarter than most people know. Helping me to run a lighthouse and inn would be a piece of cake for you, regardless of what anyone says. I’m not a high society man, Etta. I don’t care much for that more flamboyant life although our family has the money to live it if we wanted. But we’re cut out of a different cloth. We like to work, to make a difference in the world. We love our home, the lighthouse, caring for it and for the people who come to see and enjoy it.”

He paused, turning to take both her hands. “If you can see your heart aligned with a life like that and a man like me, I would count it an honor and a blessing if you would marry me and live your life with me.”

“Wouldn’t your family be upset to have me come to live with you all?”

“What do they know?” He grinned at her again. “You can just prove them wrong about any preconceptions they have. They’ll soon see that you’ll make a great Lighthouse Keeper’s wife and they’ll come to love you like I do.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked, wanting to believe him. “They said I was used to society, coming from so much glitter.” She sighed. “But they don’t know I’ve always hated all that pompousness, those boring society parties, the gossip, the overemphasis on clothes and material possessions and who you know. I escaped to the outdoors whenever possible, was a tomboy my parents despaired of for years. I’ve always wanted a life of meaning and purpose, something real and solid.”

“I’ve seen that side of you and I love you for that and for all that you are, Etta.” He squeezed her hands. “I think, in life—when we only get one life—we should all decide on our own way and pursue it with all our hearts.”

She studied him, thinking.

“If you need time to think about this, you can. But I want us to get married soon, whether we run off together to do it or go see the rector at our church at Edisto to marry us.”

She giggled then. “I could avoid the big society wedding I’ve been dreading that way.”

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, Etta.”

She took a deep breath. “Then I say yes, Lloyd. I say yes. And I’ll count on you to help me learn how to be a good Lighthouse Keeper’s wife.”

He picked her up and whirled her around. “We’re going to have a great life, Etta. And if we have girls, I hope they are all as beautiful, smart, and spunky as you.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

Follow-Up: To learn if Lloyd Deveaux and Etta did have daughters like that, you may enjoy reading the four novels in The Lighthouse Sisters Series you see pictured below….LIGHT THE WAY, LIGHTEN MY HEART, LIGHT IN THE DARK, and THE LIGHT CONTINUES.

 

 

 

 

 

Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.

A CHANGE FOR PEACE – A Short Story

Ancil walked along the pathway along the back of the garden center in Cherokee. It was called the Little Willow Garden Center, the name drawn from the last names of the two families, the Littlejohns and the Wilnotys, that jointly owned the garden center’s land along the highway as well as land beyond it. Ancil stopped to pull some weeds from a plant bed and picked up a few tree limbs that had blown down on the path from the storm last night.

He glanced up then, to see Euna Littlejohn coming toward him up the path. She waved, smiling that smile of hers that always made his heart skip a few beats. Euna had strong Cherokee looks, the black hair, olive skin, high cheekbones, thick dark hair and brown eyes common to the Eastern Cherokee of North Carolina. She was a strong, gifted, creative woman, attractive but not beautiful, smart and kind. The adjectives came easily the more he came to know her.

“Good afternoon to you,” she called out, drawing closer and dropping the big bucket of bulbs she carried to the ground for a moment. “Are we still meeting for dinner Sunday evening when we’re both off work? I already told the family I had shopping to do and would be gone for a time.”

Ancil studied her for a moment. “Did your family ask if you’d be seeing me, and did you tell them you would?” He saw her eyes drop. “I guess that means you didn’t,” he added more softly,

She sighed. “It would only cause more trouble and argument, but I want time with you.”

“Should we risk that?” He lifted her chin to look at him.

“Yes, I want to see you, Ancil. I want to spend time with you.” She leaned closer to kiss him softly.

Ancil’s good sense and caution slipped away then and he kissed her back. After a minute though he stepped away. “Don’t tell anyone you are coming to Bryson City to see me, Euna. My Uncle Charlie is still recovering, and if I come to meet you for dinner and leave him alone, I don’t want any of your family showing up to cause harassment and trouble for him again.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I am so sorry my brother Ross and Jase Wilnoty came and caused trouble for him.”

Ancil felt his anger rise. “They more than caused trouble. They threatened him, an old man wearing an orthopedic ankle brace on a healing ankle. Uncle Charlie talked back to them and they grew aggressive. Jase Wilnoty pulled a gun on him and waved it around, talking mean and ugly. A gun, Euna. Uncle Charlie’s dog Sunner flew at Jase, barking at Ross, brave and protective, and Jase shot him. He shot Uncle Charlie’s dog.”

She looked away, having difficulty meeting his gaze.

Ancil shook his head. “Sunner is all right now, thankfully. My Uncle Charlie’s neighbors next door came running when they heard the gunshot and Jase and Ross fled. The Jolsons helped Uncle Charlie get the dog to the vet.” He paused. “I know the police in Cherokee came to talk to your brother and Jase afterward, but nothing came of it but a warning.”

“They lied about everything,” she said, her own eyes flashing.

“I heard some of the lies they told later.” He glanced at the bucket on the ground. “You had better go take these bulbs to the new garden bed your father is creating. I was sent to dig up and divide more to bring back and plant, too. Your father wants more color in the long bed near the street front.”

“You won’t let this break us up?” she pleaded.

Ancil tried to decide what to say. “I may have no choice. I have already been given veiled threats that the Wilnotys and your family don’t want me working at the garden center anymore, and I don’t want to risk harm to my uncle.” He touched her face. “They want to break us up, and they want me to leave the area. Jase and Ross told my Uncle Charlie he had better encourage me to go back home where I came from and to stop trying to push my way into their families and lives. They reminded him I wasn’t full-blooded Cherokee, that my father was a white man even though my mother was Cherokee.”

She bristled. “Most of our people are not full-blooded Cherokee. You know that.”

“Yes, but your family and the Wilnotys have long ties here in North Carolina, linked into the original Cherokee who stayed behind in these mountains long ago. They have clan belonging and lands. I am an outsider. My mother’s Cherokee people were driven west from these lands on the Trail of Tears long ago.”

He paused. “The real issue is that your family and the Wilnotys want you and Jase Wilhoty to marry. As I have been told often, it has long been planned.”

She stomped her foot. “Planned by others, not by me. There is a dark side to Jase Wilnoty. He is not a man I want to spend my life with.”

“When I first came, when I saw you and asked about you, I was told you were promised and basically engaged to Jase Wilnoty. He has certainly told me so often enough himself.”

“Should others decide my life?” she asked in anger, tears in her eyes again. “I have never promised myself to Jase Wilnoty. I admit I have long been told how good it would be if our families were linked by blood. They all know I live with my grandmother and that she wants me to have her home and property when I marry.”

“It is a fine, well-built home and a large portion of your grandmother’s property includes sections of land that are a part of the nursery and garden center.” He smoothed his hand down her hair. “The Littlejohn and Wilnoty families will not allow me to easily interfere in their well-laid plans, Euna, no matter how qualified I might be to help improve and run the family business. With each day their hatred and resentment toward me grows, and even worse, I know Jase has come after you more aggressively and been abusive.”

“Who told you that?” She wiped away more tears.

“I hear things. Other people hear and see things. It is a small world here. Is it not true?”

She put a fist to her mouth, crying again. “So should I marry such a man who would try to rape me, who gave me bruises and threatened me?”

“Before I came, did he ever hurt you?”

She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her face. “No, but I heard other stories that weren’t good and I have seen his cruelty to animals. I watched him heartlessly shoot a songbird from a tree one day, laughing over it. He frightens me now.”

A voice called out, interrupting them. “Euna. Are you coming with those bulbs?”

“I’ve got to go,” she whispered. “That’s my father calling. I don’t want more trouble for you.”

“Nor do I,” he said quietly as he watched her race down the pathway.

What should I do? Ancil wondered.

He talked with his uncle about it that evening as they sat on the porch after dinner. “It’s a real problem, Uncle Charlie,” he confided. “After dad died last year and after the hard year of handling all the affairs related to the estate and selling the house, I was ready for a change and a break. You know my brother Logan is stationed at the naval base in Australia now and unlikely to come home soon with the security work he does there. You’re really my only relative in the states now, so I was glad to come stay with you for a time when you called to tell me you’d fallen and broken your ankle.”

“I fell fishing, slipped on a dang rock,” his uncle said grinning. “I’m an old bachelor, so I took a chance calling you to see if you might come help me out for a time. However, I know you’ve started to really like it here, too. This area around the Smoky Mountains is a beautiful place, isn’t it? I’d hate to see you go back to Ohio again. Do you want to?”

“Not really, but the big garden center I worked with has a horticulture management job they’d like me to take this fall. It’s with Casa Verde growers, good money, a good job.”

His uncle propped his foot on a stool, wincing a little with the movement.

“Is your foot hurting?” Ancil asked, studying him for a moment. His uncle’s hair was gray and thinning now, his black glasses slipping down on his nose like they always did. But he had a happy style and manner, and a love for life, Ancil had always liked.

“I stand on my feet all day as a barber, Ancil,” his uncle answered. “My foot aches a bit at night but it’s about healed.  This brace they gave me helps. But I’ll be fine. You don’t need to stay here longer for me, although I admit I’ll miss you.” He winked at Ancil. “My guess is that it’s a certain sweet Cherokee girl that’s kept you here this long more than me.”

Ancil shook his head. “It wasn’t something I expected to happen. I’ve fallen strong in love with her and she with me, Uncle Charlie, but how can I propose to her or think of a life with her knowing it will tear her family’s affection from her. They don’t like me, not any of them. I think her father respects my skills, my education, my knowledge of plants and work background with other garden centers. The others resent it, resent that I know more than they do.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Would you think it none of my business to make a suggestion?”

“No, I’d value your advice.”

His uncle leaned forward. “Well, I’ve an idea for you to consider. An old school mate of mine, Wrylin Trent, became a minister, and some years back he took the pastor’s job at a church over in Cosby, Tennessee. Do you know where that is, over the mountain from us and east of busy Gatlinburg?”

“I’ve hiked over there in past and visited around the area.”

He nodded. “Well, Wrylin and I were talking after that incident here last week. He’d given me my dog Sunner as a pup when his own dog had a litter, and you well know I was worried for Sunner there for a bit.”

“Me, too,” said Ancil, looking over at the big yellow dog asleep on the porch near them, a bandage still on his side.

“I admit I was telling Wrylin about the girl, too, and about you falling for her. I told him the man her family wanted for her wasn’t much of a man, and I told him some of what Jase Wilnoty did here, with Euna’s own brother a party to it, and some of what I’d heard he did to Euna pushing on her.” He paused to rub a hand over his neck. “I like that girl. I don’t care so much for her family though. Never have much. I even saw her own sister, giggling and sauntering down the street over here in Bryson City one day, walking right by my barber shop with Jase Wilnoty, his hands in places they didn’t to belong and his actions not like a man promised to another woman.”

“You saw that?” Ancil leaned forward with his hands fisted.

His uncle glanced toward Ancil’s fists. “That girl deserves better than that man. He will only bring her sorrows. If you stay around he’s only going to bring you sorrows, too.”

Ancil sighed. “So you think I should go back to Ohio, maybe even see if Euna would go with me? As much as she probably needs to leave, or at least get away from Jase Wilnoty, I hate to ask her to leave everyone she loves and all her family and friends behind.”

“She loves you more, son. I’ve seen it in her eyes when she’s been here, and I’ve seen the love and desire to care for her and protect her in your eyes, too. Love doesn’t come often in life, that chance to find someone you can be one with.”

Ancil leaned his head back. “I do love her, but I wish there was a better answer than taking her off to northeast Ohio, so far away from all she knows.”

His uncle grinned. “Well, I might have an answer for that, too. The Merton family, that owns the Wildflower Haven garden center and nursery over in Cosby, go to Wrylin’s church. The man that did a lot of work for them and lived on their property died last year. Will and Rowan Merton, a father and son, who own and work the nursery and garden center with their family, need more help with their place. You’ve got good skills, better than the Littlejohn and Wilnoty garden center deserves. I took the liberty of telling Wrylin about you, about the problems we’ve been having, and about the girl and my worries for her and you. Wrylin went down to visit the Mertons after our phone call, and Will and Rowan Merton would like to talk with you about a job there. Wrylin says the pay sounds good and there’s a cabin on the property where Old Billy, who worked for them before, lived. You’d have a ready-made place to live, a big garden center to work for. Wrylin says the Mertons are fine Christian folks and he’s in a position to know.”

His uncle paused and looked at Ancil. “You’re off tomorrow. Drive over there and talk to them.” He held out a piece of paper. “Here’s Will Merton’s phone number and some directions to his place. You can read more about the Wildflower Haven on the internet, too. It’s a far bigger place and operation than the little place here in Cherokee where you’ve been working. It has a fine gift shop right on the main highway, too, and the entire garden center and grounds are beautifully landscaped. I’ve stopped by there when over visiting Wrylin. It could be an answer.”

Thoughts raced through Ancil’s mind.

His uncle put a hand on his knee. “You won’t know if it might be an option unless you check it out.” He laughed then. “Wrylin said he’d marry you and Euna right there at the church, too, if she decides to run off with you. She’d have a name change then, and it would be difficult after that to try to get her to come back here.”

Ancil ran a hand over his neck. “They might come after me to hurt me or to hurt her. They’re a nasty bunch.”

“Well, if you like that job opportunity and decide to take it, don’t tell them where you’re going. Tell them you’re going back to Ohio to your old house and a new job you’ve been offered. Then help Euna slip off later to come join you. She can send them one of those texts after you’re married, telling them she’s in Ohio and married. Your house up there is probably still on the internet in your daddy’s name right now if they hunted for an address. Besides even if they check on things, I can’t quite see that bunch taking off to travel all the way to Ohio to look for either of you.”

Ancil couldn’t help smiling over that idea. “Neither can I.”

His uncle laughed. “I like thinking on this idea. It would keep you and Euna around close so I could see you both every now and then. I come to Cosby to get together with Wrylin right often. From what he says you’ll be just down the road a ways from his church and where he lives. It’s pretty country over there in Cosby. You’d get to work with plants like you love. I don’t think I could make a barber out of you, nor would it be happy for you and Euna to live around here. Her family and those Wilnotys would probably shun you and make trouble for you. I doubt you’d know any real peace.”

The yellow dog got up from the porch to wander over to get his head scratched by his uncle while Ancil thought over all his words.

“So, will you check it out?” his Uncle Charlie asked after a while. “Like the old saying, ‘Nothing ventured nothing gained.’ I’ve always believed that nothing will change in your life if you’re not open for change.”

“What if my leaving causes more trouble for you?”

“I wouldn’t be lying to anyone to say you’d only come to stay a while to help me out when I got injured. Everyone has long expected you to leave and head back home after a while. You can be sure I won’t be telling that bunch over in Cherokee, or anyone else, that you decided to stay around the mountains rather than going back to Ohio. Most folks will assume you did go back to Ohio. You’d be smart to give that reason for quitting your job over at the garden center, too. I won’t have need to dispute it. With you gone they won’t have need to bother me, either. It’s what they wanted me to do, to help get rid of you. They’ll probably figure I pushed on you to leave.”

Ancil thought on his words for a little while and then picked up the piece of paper with the phone number on it, glancing at his watch. “I think I might go over to Cosby tomorrow for the day to look around, You wanna go with me?”

“Nah, I got appointments all day for haircuts at the shop. But you go. You’re off work.” He leaned over to pat Ancil’s shoulder. “You can tell me all about it when you get back.”

October that year brought quiet to the Wildflower Haven nursery. One evening as the twilight settled in shortly after dinner, Euna came out on the porch of their cabin in Cosby with a little cake twinkling with lit candles.

Ancil looked up and smiled at her. “What’s the occasion?”

She sat the cake down on the rustic table in front of him and then settled into her favorite rocking chair beside his. “It’s our six-month wedding anniversary. I decided we should celebrate it and give thanks to the good Lord for our lives.” She took his hand. “Come blow the candles out with me and we’ll wish for many more blessed years.”

They did, and then Ancil leaned over to kiss her. “Are you happy, Euna?”

“Do you need to ask?” She smiled at him. “You gave me a new life of peace and happiness and saved me from sorrows. I worried for a time if our love would be enough for you in balance against all the injustice and cruelty of my family.”

He considered her words as he watched her cut them both a piece of the cake she’d made, a rich carrot cake with cream cheese icing like she knew he loved. “Do you miss your family?”

She sighed. “I miss the idea of family, the love and caring of what family should be, but not the reality of what my family had become, caring more for traditions, for money and land, than people, for turning blind eyes to my heart, my needs, and even my gifts, wanting only to control my life and willing to hurt me and others to do it.”

Ancil ate a little of his cake before answering. “I remember being worried that day six months ago before we married and you joined me here. You had good reason to go to Sylva to spend the weekend to help your friend Indica be married, but I was anxious all day that you would return home and not come here to me, that time had changed your mind, or that someone would learn of our plans or see you packing your possessions into your car and stop you.”

“You leaving without me threw everyone’s thinking off. They even jeered at me, being dumped by you, suggesting I’d been foolish and hoping I saw more clearly now my right path.” She paused to eat a bite of her cake. “You quit your job with my family and left shortly after your interview with the Mertons. You said you liked them and loved all you saw here at first sight. I could feel that excitement and certainty in you later when you shared about it and proposed to me, and you showed me all those pictures you’d taken, one of the cabin here.”

“We’ve fixed it up nicely, I think. It is well-built and comfortable.”

“It is, and I was happy here from the first night.” She blushed at those words.

“I watched for you all day, fearful you would not come.”

She grinned. “I had been stealthy over the weeks after you left, carefully packing things I’d need here, even sneaking boxes to your uncle to ship to you. I had little to take as I left for Sylva for Indica’s wedding.”

“Did you tell her your plans, that you would drive over the mountain to me instead of returning home?”

“No, I didn’t think it wise. As we planned, I communicated later to all that I went to Ohio to marry you and live there. No one knows I am here in Cosby.” She sighed. “It might create problems if we ever returned to Cherokee, Ancil. Property passes through the matriarchal line in Cherokee. I am the oldest daughter. In a sense, I have rights there to land and even the family business on the land. Your uncle says he’s learned my sister got pregnant by Jase. She is underage, but the family is giving their permission for them to marry. They go on, and we will go on.”

He smiled at her. “Our life is good here. I am a happy man with you, with my work, and with our home. I am saving and in time we will buy our own place.”

She paused, the sound of the creek through the woods coming to them and the sounds of early night frogs beginning. “I like our plaque on the wall with its Cherokee blessing.” She began to read it. “May the warm wings of heaven blow softly upon your house, and may the Great Spirit bless all who enter here.” She paused. “There is more but I like those words and hope blessings will continue to follow us.”

“Yes, I do, too,” he agreed. “Sometimes we must walk on, away from troubles and sorrows, in order to find our peace and the life God wants for us.”

“That is true. Sometimes we need a change for peace and for new joy.”

A drift of warm wind blew through the porch as she spoke as if confirming her words.

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In my upcoming book WILDFLOWER HAVEN, you will meet Ancil and Euna Yarbrough again as side characters and can catch up on their lives after many years have passed. For my February blog, I enjoyed creating a little story about the earlier years of this Cherokee couple.

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Note: All photos my own, from royalty free sites, or used only as a part of my author repurposed storyboards shown only for educational and illustrative purposes, acc to the Fair Use Copyright law, Section 107 of the Copyright Act.