by Jane Peart
"Well, not completely," Holly retorted, dimples appearing at his accurate description, adding saucily, "—but my fondness for stagecoach travel has been severely impaired!"
A boyish grin showed that he appreciated her humor. For the next few minutes they conducted a lively exchange on the dangers of stagecoach travel and tipsy drivers while Ned looked on with indulgent amusement. Then, almost mid-sentence, Holly checked herself. This was just the sort of unconscious flirtatiousness Jim had resented in her. He had accused her of flirting with any man in sight. It was just this kind of behavior that had landed her in her present situation, she reminded herself. Hadn't she promised herself she was cured of it forever? No matter how attractive the man was—and she had to admit Dr. Blaine Stevens certainly was—
Abruptly Holly suppressed a jesting remark, the dimples vanished, and she tried compressing her mouth into a prim line. Her sudden withdrawal from the conversation seemed to puzzle both men, and an awkward pause followed. Finally Blaine said, "Well, at least you made it here safely. I'm sure Hetty's delighted that she'll have someone from her hometown for a visit."
Holly, who was not at all sure of that, made no comment. But Ned did. "And speaking of Hetty, if we don't get home, she'll be sending out a posse to find us. The stage being late won't be enough excuse if supper's spoiled—"
"You married men have it rough all right, having to hurry home to a good, hot, home-cooked meal after a hard day's work!" the doctor scoffed jovially.
"And you bachelors don't have to worry about a tongue-lashing if you're late!" was Ned's good-natured retort.
"Well, so long," Blaine said. "My regards to Hetty, and I hope to see you again, Miss Lambeth."
As they started walking again, Holly couldn't help wondering if all that emphasis on who was married and who was a bachelor in that joking exchange had been for her benefit. Was Ned setting her up with his good friend the doctor? But Holly dismissed the idea. She had other more immediate things on her mind. The closer they got to her cousin's home the more anxious she began to feel about her meeting with Hetty. After all it had been almost six years since they had seen each other.
"This is it, home sweet home," Ned declared, opening the gate of a picket fence in front of a neat board-and-batten house. They went up the path edged with familiar flowers that Holly guessed Hetty must have grown from seeds Aunt Dolly sent her. Just as they reached the porch steps, the front door was flung open and there stood Hetty.
The light from an oil lamp she was holding in one upraised hand fell on her face, making harsh shadows on her high cheekbones and strong jawline. Her hair was pulled straight back, and her narrowed eyes, glittering like jet beads, moved over Holly—not missing a single button, bow, or feather. She could not see the accumulated dust and stain of travel, only the stylish outfit her cousin was wearing, and Holly saw the expression on Hetty's face—a mixture of envy and dislike.
A chilling wave of certainty froze Holly. On Hetty's face she read the truth, the confirmation of all her doubts—that her cousin resented her coming—and that she was unwelcome.
Chapter 2
You're late," Hetty said tersely to Ned before Holly even had a chance to speak.
"The stage was late, and then I had to close up the store and walk over to the hotel—," Ned began apologizing.
Holly chimed in, trying to smooth things over, "And then we met some friends of Ned's and stopped to chat—" When Hetty's face did not lose its stony expression, Holly attempted a quick change of subject and greeted her cousin cheerfully, "Well, Hetty! Hello! It was so nice of you to have me come."
Hetty's glacial gaze came back to rest on Holly. "It's the least I could do for kin," she replied stiffly.
More than a little taken aback by this "uncousinly" reception— a far cry from the kind the word "kin" she had used would ordinarily imply, at least in Willow Springs—Holly glanced at Ned as if seeking some explanation of Hetty's attitude, but Ned couldn't seem to meet Holly's eyes.
"Well, come in, don't stand there letting all the night air in," Hetty said sharply to Ned, then turned her back on both of them.
"You first, Holly," Ned murmured in a low voice.
Holly stepped inside while he followed with her trunk. She looked around at the large room and got a fleeting impression of starched calico curtains, a round table and chairs in the middle, and at the other end a big, shiny black stove.
"The parlor is in there," Hetty said, gesturing to a closed door to the right.
"We don't use it except on Sundays or when company's comin'," piped up a clear high voice.
"Mind your tongue, Aurelia."
When Hetty spoke, Holly turned to see a little girl wearing a starched pinafore, her coppery brown hair in tight braids bristling with bows, staring at her.
"Why, hello there!" Holly exclaimed.
"I'm Aurelia." The little girl took a step forward, smiling, then pointed a chubby finger at a small boy who was peering from behind one of the chairs drawn up to the table. "And that's Teddy."
"Well, Aurelia, come and give me a kiss! What a pretty name!" With her plump rosy cheeks, tiny turned-up nose, cornflower blue eyes sparkling with curiosity, the child seemed to Holly more like a miniature Aunt Dolly than like her mother. "And how pretty you are, too!"
"Don't talk nonsense," Hetty cut in sharply. "I don't want her getting silly notions about herself, her looks, or anything else."
Surprised to be chastised for such a spontaneous remark, Holly looked at her cousin. What she saw in Hetty's eyes was unveiled hostility. In a moment, Holly realized Hetty did not like her, never had, and nothing had changed. What she could do about that, at the moment, Holly had no idea.
Seemingly undaunted by her mother's curtness, Aurelia held up her hand, spreading her fingers, and announced, "I'm five. And Teddy's nearly four."
"Stop chattering, Aurelia," her mother reprimanded, then she turned to Holly, and pointedly eyeing the quantity of Holly's luggage, said, "I don't have a spare room. When we built this house we didn't count on having house guests, so you'll have to sleep in with the children." Her mouth pursed.
"Oh, don't worry about it, Hetty. I'll be just fine." Holly assured her quickly, stung by Hetty's use of the words "house guests." In Willow Springs family were never considered guests. Relatives were always welcomed warmly whether for one night or a week and were usually urged to stay longer. Hetty was making it no secret that she considered having Holly here an imposition.
Hetty's chin jutted out defensively as if she knew how she had sounded. "Come along, I'll show you where to put your things."
"Let me show her, Mama!" begged Aurelia, coming over to Holly's side and slipping a tiny hand into hers.
Holly squeezed it gratefully. "Yes, do let Aurelia."
Frowning, Hetty looked at Aurelia then back to Holly, and then said, "Well, all right, go on. But don't be all day back there. Supper's ready to serve if it hasn't been ruined what with Ned's dawdling with his men friends—"
"I'll carry something," Aurelia offered, and Holly let her take the hatbox.
As they went hand in hand down the short hall, Holly could hear Hetty haranguing Ned about something.
"Here we are," Aurelia announced, pulling a little ahead of Holly and opening the door to the bedroom they were to share.
Holly entered, set down her valise, and looked around. There was a pine chest of drawers, a large bed with low posters, covered with a sunburst quilt in indigo-and-orange colors. Pushed against the wall on the other side of the room was a smaller cot.
"That's Teddy's," Aurelia told her. "He hid under the table when he heard you and Pa coming. He's shy."
Obviously she wasn't. Holly had the feeling that she and Aurelia would get along just fine.
While Holly took off her bonnet and rummaged through her valise for her hairbrush to remedy the havoc the long trip and the wind had done to her hair, Aurelia climbed up on the bed ready to chat. There was a narrow mirror hanging over the chest, and Ho
lly went over to it and began taking out her hairpins. Watching her from her vantage point on the bed, Aurelia said, "When we knowed you was comin', Mama had Pa order that looking glass special to hang up there. Mama said we better have one because you liked to primp."
Holly was half-amused, half-annoyed at the remark. Of course, she realized the little girl spoke with the sublime innocence of childhood, just repeating what she'd heard. She wondered what else Hetty had said about her, and she asked casually, "Did your mama talk a lot about me before I came?"
"Oh, yes, after Grammum's letter came, she and Pa talked about it all the time. Then Pa said, 'That's enough, Hetty, she's comin', and that's all there is to it," Aurelia gave a little bounce after quoting her father.
Holly's cheeks flamed with humiliation at the thought that she had been discussed and almost refused the haven her aunt and mother had sought for her. In the aftershock of Jim's surprise engagement to another girl, Holly had been dazed and vulnerable to suggestion. She should never have succumbed to Aunt Dolly's persuasion to get out of town for awhile, away from all the gossip, to go on a long visit to her cousin in Oregon. I should have known better. Holly fumed inwardly, thinking of Hetty's cold greeting. Well what did I expect? Hetty's still the sour little girl she always was. I should have remembered.
Holly shook out her hair and brushed it vigorously until it made a crackling sound.
"Your hair is just be-yootiful!" Aurelia sighed. "You are so pretty! You're about the prettiest lady I've ever seen. Prettier than any of the ladies in this town, I think." She paused and for a long moment regarded Holly, her brow wrinkled, her curly head to one side, then asked, "So why aren't you married? Mama says you're an old maid, but you don't look old to me. And she said you were jilted. What's jilted, Holly?"
Resentment flared up in Holly. Hetty had certainly not hesitated to detail her private story even to her children! Was it just to Ned? Or did unknown listening "little pitchers have big ears"? And if Hetty had told her friends, how many other people in Riverbend knew Holly's personal disaster? Maybe the whole town knew! Maybe Adam Corcoran would feel it was newsworthy enough to print in the Riverbend Monitor. Holly flung down her brush in irritation.
Then realizing Aurelia was still observing her, waiting for an answer to her question, Holly went over to her, took the puzzled little face in both her hands, and kissed her cheeks. "Actually, Aurelia, being an 'old maid' means you just haven't been lucky enough yet to find a man to make happy."
"Oh, I see." Aurelia grinned, the answer seeming to satisfy her.
"Now, Aurelia, could you tell me—is there a—?"
Aurelia jumped off the bed. "Yes, I'll show you." She ran and opened the bedroom door saying over her shoulder, "I'd go with you, but I don't like going out there when it's dark."
Holly followed the little girl through the hall, out through a back door, and onto a porch. "That's it," Aurelia told her, pointing to a shedlike structure at the end of a large garden.
"I'll wait 'till you're done and walk back with you," Aurelia offered as Holly hurried along the flagstone path. When she rejoined the little girl, Holly said, "Thank you, Aurelia. Now I'll just wash up a bit and tidy myself then we'll go in for supper, all right?"
"Oh, yes. We're having roast chicken and dumplings, and peach pie for dessert. Do you like peach pie? Umhmm. I do! I think it's my favorite kind, 'less it's rhubarb and strawberry, but we only have that in the summertime—"
Aurelia went right on talking, not waiting for Holly to comment or make any reply. This gave Holly a chance to think while she poured water from the ironstone pitcher into the washbowl, getting ready to scrub some of the gritty grime of stagecoach travel from her face and hands. Taking her toilette case from the valise, she got out her small cake of rose-scented glycerin soap from its shell box. She wished she had time to wash all over and put on a fresh chemise, but she was afraid to delay too long and keep Hetty's supper waiting. Causing Hetty any more upset than she had caused by her arrival was something Holly did not relish.
The image of herself she saw in the mirror revealed that she was more tired than she realized. She looked pale, and there were purple smudges under her eyes. She hadn't had a really good night's sleep in weeks! Not on the transcontinental train coming cross country nor in any of the places that passed for hotels in which she had spent a night or two as she made connections to California then Oregon!
Holly made quick work of her wash-up and redid her hair. Then whirling around, she held out her hand to Aurelia and with an effort at gaiety, asked, "So, shall we go in to supper?"
When they came out into the big kitchen, Hetty was standing at the stove, stirring something and did not turn around at their entrance. Ned was sitting in the big Boston rocker reading a newspaper, but when he saw Holly, he got to his feet and stood there uncertainly. The table was spread with a crisp white cloth and set with the Blue Delft dinnerware, which Holly recognized as Aunt Dolly's second-best, probably given to Hetty to bring west with her.
"Everything looks so nice, Hetty," Holly remarked to Hetty's back.
Hetty turned, and Holly was shocked to see she she still wore the same "mad-at-the-world" expression she had often seen on her in childhood. Hetty said with a shrug, "It's not as fancy as you're used to, I'm sure. But I like to do things proper even if this isn't Kentucky!"
At this Holly nearly choked. As if Hetty had not been brought up in the very same environment as Holly! They had the same grandparents, and their mothers were sisters, for goodness' sake! What was Hetty trying to prove? And how could she not have remembered what Hetty was like? Hetty had sat glum-faced through too many family celebrations for Holly to have forgotten.
Holly sat down without another word. Aurelia wiggled up into the chair beside Holly. Teddy, still with his head burrowed almost to his chin, climbed up into the chair opposite. Ned took his seat at the end of the table.
Hetty brought a large tureen over from the stove, set it down before Ned's place at the table, nodded brusquely to Ned, and said, "We'll have the blessing now, Ned."
All heads bowed reverently while Ned mumbled something in so low a voice Holly had to strain to hear. Poor Ned, was her reaction. Had he escaped from under the shadow of his father, the pontifical judge, and his brother only to be brought under Hetty's less benevolent domination? She certainly hoped not. She had caught a glimpse of the "new" Ned in his encounters with Adam Corcoran and Dr. Stevens, and she liked what she saw.
For all Holly's valiant efforts, supper was a strain. Even though Ned did his best by asking her about mutual friends in Willow Springs and Holly cooperated by bringing up news of events and people they all knew and might be interested in hearing about, Hetty's determined nonparticipation hung over the table like a pall. She spent most of the time correcting the children's table manners and once in awhile giving a sniff of disdain at some of Holly's remarks.
Teddy held Holly in a steady stare throughout the meal, but everytime she tried to make eye contact with him, he would duck his head into his plate. If it had not been for Aurelia, who alternately gazed at Holly adoringly or smiled at whatever she said, the meal would have been intolerable. As it was, Holly found she could hardly eat a bite. By the time it ended, she felt as if her neck were in a brace from stress and her face stretched from maintaining as pleasant an expression as possible.
Finally it was over. Hetty ignored Holly's compliments on the delicious supper and turned down her offer to help clear away or do the dishes. So, in desperation, using weariness from the long trip as an excuse, Holly said she believed she would retire early.
"I'll fix your lamp then, Holly," Ned said. While he trimmed the wick, lighted it, adjusted the flame, and replaced the glass globe, Hetty banged pots and pans. Holly darted a quick look at her cousin. Did Hetty even resent Ned's attending to her needs?
As he handed her the lamp, Holly said, "Thank you, Ned—," then added hesitantly, "Well, good night, Hetty—good night, everyone." Hetty acknowledged her with
a brief nod; Aurelia waved and smiled. Teddy had disappeared again under the table.
Holly left the kitchen and went down the hall to the bedroom. The discomfort she felt during this first evening was unbelievable. With a sense of relief she closed the door, leaned against it, and shut her eyes for a full minute. Placing the lamp on the bureau, she sat down on the edge of the bed. She would have loved nothing better than to take a hot bath, but she hadn't dared risk asking Hetty to boil water or for the use of the copper tub she had seen hanging on the porch when she went out back.
She felt exhausted not only from the long day of travel but from the emotional stress. What weighed her down most heavily was the knowledge that she had done the wrong thing by coming. Hetty's feelings were plain. She hadn't wanted her to come, didn't want her here. But at the time, taking her aunt's and mother's advice had seemed reasonable enough. She herself had been anxious to escape, so it was easy enough to believe that by the time she came back to Willow Springs some other topic of gossip would have replaced the one that everyone was enjoying about her and Jim Mercer.
Back home it wouldn't have mattered. Holly hadn't cared about Hetty's opinion of her. Although, to her credit, Holly had tried to include Hetty in the parties and picnics and fun she herself was enjoying. Even though it was at her mother's prompting, to be sure, Holly had tried to encourage some of the young men who had clustered around her to dance with her cousin. Truthfully, Holly had to admit, for the most part she had lived in her own world, surrounded by admirers, basking in the sunshine of doting parents and dazzled beaux.
Now that the tables were turned, Holly was the needy one, Hetty had the upper hand. Their roles were going to be reversed. Now that it was too late, she deeply regretted having come. How could she possibly put up with Hetty's insufferable attitude until it was safe to go home? Or would it ever be safe? What if Jim decided finally to do what he had often promised to do when they were "courting"? Many times he had talked of resigning his Army commission and going into business with his father. What if Jim brought his bride home to Willow Springs?
