by Jane Peart
Hetty's response was caustic. "Most women think those are the most important things, more important than books, and enjoy talking about their children and exchanging recipes! But, of course, someone like you couldn't possibly understand that."
Whoops! thought Holly, that was a mistake. Another black mark against her in Hetty's book inadvertently made. Trying to make amends, Holly tried again, "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, Hetty; I meant it would give women something different not better. Remember how your mother and mine used to enjoy the Garden Club, which wasn't about gardening much at all, but gave them a chance to gossip and giggle and be girls again ..." Seeing Hetty's frown she added lamely, "... at least that's what Papa used to say."
Hetty sniffed and went on folding laundry.
"Wouldn't you like to join, Hetty? The first meeting will be at Geneva Healy's on Monday afternoon."
"No thank you," Hetty said emphatically, and that ended the matter. Holly knew there was no use trying to persuade her. Hetty was not going to enter into any project or idea that Holly came up with, so she might as well accept that.
Ned had allowed Holly to put up a small poster with an invitation about the time and place of the first meeting. To everyone's surprise not only ladies showed up. Besides the Bodine sisters, who ran Riverbend's bakery, Mr. Clegg, the church organist, came, as did Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, the town watchmaker and his wife. Mrs. Phillips explained that she read to him while he worked; they both loved good books. It was a lively meeting with much discussion, and they all decided that at each meeting someone would give a book report to the group of the book they had just read.
The biggest surprise of all was that both Ad and Blaine showed up. Adam declared that he wanted to write an article about it for the Monitor, and Blaine came during the last half-hour when refreshments were being served, then offered to take Holly home.
So in spite of Hetty's reaction to the idea, the Riverbend Literary Society flourished. Viola Dodd was one of its most supportive members. She closed shop on the meeting days and was particularly insightful when critiquing the books under discussion. Through the Literary Society, she and Holly became real friends.
One meeting day, after the other ladies had left, Holly stayed behind and offered to help Vi clear away the tea things. What she really wanted to do was talk to her, ask the older woman's advice about the situation with Hetty, which seemed to get more intolerable with each passing day. Vi's warmth made it easy for Holly to confide. "I don't think she wanted me to come out here in the first place. She just did it to please her mother, my Aunt Dolly. I think she's always resented me for some reason. I'm not sure why," sighed Holly.
Vi regarded her over the rim of her teacup but didn't say anything.
Holly went on, "What could I have done to make her so—so unfriendly?"
"You really don't know, do you?" Vi asked, then set her cup down carefully, wiped her mouth daintily on the small white embroidered napkin. "It's nothing you've done, Holly. Don't you understand that?"
"Then why?"
"Jealousy."
"Jealousy? Why should Hetty be jealous of me? She has everything I don't: a husband, a home, children." Holly was genuinely astonished at such a suggestion.
A silence fell, and Vi calmly poured them each more tea, then asked, "Have you prayed about this, Holly?"
"Yes, of course I have. Well, a little, I guess. I've worried about it more than I've prayed, to be truthful. And especially because I love the children so much and I'd love to spend more time with them, but... I just don't know how to deal with Hetty."
On the way home from Vi's that afternoon Holly thought hard about what Vi had said. Was it really possible that Hetty was jealous? Back in Willow Springs when Hetty sat at home while Holly went out dancing, it might have been true. But here in Riverbend, where Hetty was the wife of a respected, prominent citizen, and she, Holly, was a stranger, an outsider? But Vi was the most sincere, truthful person Holly had ever met and had wisdom as well. If she believed that was the reason for Hetty's coldness, Holly should at least consider it a possibility.
She felt somewhat ashamed when Vi had asked her if she'd prayed about her relationship with her cousin. To be honest, she had mostly resented it, thought it unfair, and felt herself to be the injured party.
Slowing her step, Holly probed the situation more deeply. If Hetty had always been jealous of her and had finally made a new life for herself in Oregon and had thereby escaped the family's constant comparisons of the two cousins—and then that same cousin suddenly appeared on the scene—wouldn't you feel upset? Holly's conscience demanded. If all this was true, what could she do about it? Unless she packed up and went back home, Holly had to stay in Riverbend and make the best of it, and Hetty had to put up with her.
Chapter 9
To Holly's amusement Adam Corcoran became one of the lending library borrowers.
"I thought those bundles of San Francisco newspapers you pick up at the post office every week kept you supplied with enough reading material," she teased him one day as he looked over her titles.
"Well, you can get an overdose of murders, mayhem, and political skullduggery, which is what seems to be the content of most of the city rags these days."
She pretended to be shocked. "I thought you missed the big city."
"I do. Maybe I'm getting soft in the head. Maybe the bucolic life is getting to me. Or maybe, it's just possible, that Riverbend has grown more interesting since some new people arrived in town."
She was checking out Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities to Adam just as Blaine Stevens came into the store and started over to the library. At his approach, Ad placed his hand on his chest as if suffering a heart attack and gasped, "Don't tell me our dedicated physician has time to read books!"
"It's good medicine; I recommend it to all my patients. A good book occasionally takes them out of their pain and away from their worry for a few hours." His grin included Holly. "I write dozens of prescriptions for a good book to be taken regularly."
"I can understand your giving that advice to sick people or someone who's laid up with a broken limb and worrying about who's going to do his plowing, but what are you doing here?" Adam kept up the ragging.
"Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'Physician, heal thyself?" asked Blaine. Holly was observing the two men, apparently good friends ribbing each other.
At length, Adam said, "Well, check this out for me, if you will, Miss Lambeth, and I'll be on my way. I've got a paper to put to bed."
When he had sauntered off, Holly, assuming her role of librarian, asked Blaine, "So, what kind of leisure reading do you enjoy, doctor?"
"Believe it or not, I enjoy poetry," Blaine told her, leaning his folded arms on the counter and surveying her pleasantly.
"Poetry?" She was surprised. Science and poetry seemed a strange combination. "What kind of poetry?"
"Narrative, heroic. Byron, Browning," he replied.
Holly frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we have either of those. Mama doesn't approve of Byron and well—we do have the collected sonnets of Elizabeth Barrett Browning—but they're mostly love poems and ..." For some reason Holly felt her face flush under Blaine's interested gaze. Trying to reshelve the book, she dropped it and thought crossly, What is the matter with me to be so clumsy?
Blaine did not seem to notice her fumbling and went on talking. "Actually, I own several volumes of both Byron and Browning—and to be truthful, I came here under false pretenses. I wanted to ask you to go for a drive with me this Sunday after church—if the weather's still fine, and I thought maybe I could show you some more of the countryside."
Holly's head, which was bent to retrieve a dropped book, popped up in surprise. "Why, thank you, Dr. Stevens, I would enjoy that very much."
"Fine." Blaine's smile broadened. "Unless there's an emergency, and I can never be sure of that, and there are no sick calls, I'll attend service and meet you afterward."
Holly reshelved the book, smiling.
"See you on Sunday then, Dr. Stevens."
Watching as Blaine departed whistling, Holly was amazed at herself for being so pleased at such an ordinary event as being invited for a drive. But at least it offered an escape from a long, stifling day, trapped at Hetty's. To be honest, Holly had to admit she had missed the company of young men, which she had always enjoyed. Of course, Adam Corcoran had shown some interest in her. But he tended to be sarcastic, which sometimes wore a little thin. So what harm could spending an afternoon with Dr. Stevens do? He was interesting and amusing. She most certainly had no intentions of becoming involved in any romantic way with anyone in Riverbend, whatever Hetty might think!
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. Holly's spirits had lifted immeasurably at the prospect of an outing with Blaine. The Bodine sisters, Miss Eva and Miss Emmeline, who ran the local bakery and who had become regular lending library devotees, came in to chat and brought a little basket of cupcakes for her. Mr. Clegg, the church organist, also came by to return his book and take out another. Holly helped two new ladies who were interested in selecting books, and by the time Ned was ready to close the store, Holly realized that the day had flown by and had been especially pleasant.
Sunday morning, Holly was standing in front of her mirror, critically checking her appearance. She was wearing an outfit that she had not worn before in Riverbend. Now she wondered if it mighty be too dressy for a country drive. While she wavered about changing into something simpler, an impatient knock came at the bedroom door, followed by Hetty's querulous voice, "What's keeping you, Holly? Are you coming with us to church or not?"
Opening the door, Hetty peered around it. Her gaze swept over Holly from the bonnet trimmed with tiny blueberries down the scalloped bodice and flounced skirt of her blue faille walking suit. "My, my!" was all she said, but acid dripped from her voice. Then she quickly withdrew, saying, "We're in the wagon, waiting. Hurry up if you're coming."
Holly gathered up her gloves and handbag and hurried out, wondering why Hetty always somehow managed to make her feel guilty. When she got into the wagon beside the children, Aurelia gave her an awed compliment. She squeezed the little girl's hand appreciatively and smiled, but it only made Holly feel worse. Hettty's unspoken but obvious criticism had done its damage. At least she'd be gone for the day and out from under it for a few hours, she thought gratefully.
It wasn't until they were going up the steps of the church that Holly informed Hetty in a whisper about her invitation from Blaine. Hetty's startled look was her only reply. Holly had not wanted to make too much of it by telling her beforehand, because Hetty always managed to spoil things by her sarcasm. Holly did not want this day to be ruined by one of Hetty's disparaging remarks.
After the service, Blaine was waiting for her at the bottom of the church steps when they came outside. "Sorry, I couldn't make the service," her told her as he took her arm and led her over to his small buggy. "Just as I was leaving, I got a message that one of the Findley children was running a high fever, so I had to make a sick call there. Did I miss a good sermon?"
Truthfully, sitting next to Hetty, Holly was too distracted by her cold disapproval to have paid much attention. So she fibbed guiltily.
"Oh, yes, it was very good."
Blaine glanced at her with mischievous eyes. "Care to give me a summary? What was the Scripture the text was taken from?"
Caught unawares by his question, Holly's eyes widened, then seeing that he was teasing her, she attempted to sound contrite, "I'm afraid I don't remember enough of it to tell you."
"Maybe it was something like This is the day the Lord hath made, let us rejoice and be glad'?" prompted Blaine.
"That sounds just right," Holly laughed.
Soon they were out from town, riding through some of the loveliest country Holly had ever seen. The woodland on either side of the winding road was glorious with autumn color, lush and green, and the river that ran parallel sparkled like silver in the sunlight.
Holly found Blaine thoroughly enjoyable. He was totally natural as he spoke of growing up back in Connecticut, of his family consisting of a mother, a stepfather whom he admired, and two married sisters. His own father had been killed in the Civil War, he told her, when Blaine was only nine years old.
"Regrettably, as so many of the War casualties, his was unnecessary. He bled to death on the battlefield because they didn't get him to a field hospital in time. My uncle was an Army doctor, and he told me that. Maybe it was the thing that motivated me to become a doctor myself. I wanted to know how to keep things like that from happening to people. My uncle said he saw so many soldiers die for lack of knowledge and the right treatment during the war." Blaine stopped. "Pardon me, Holly, I didn't mean to get on to an unpleasant subject like that on such a beautiful day. So, tell me, how do you like Oregon by this time?"
Holly wondered how she could possibly tell him. On this lovely fall day she almost thought that she could learn to love living out here, but then there was Hetty. How could she explain that situation?
Lately Holly had been debating whether it might not be better to leave Riverbend and go back to Willow Springs, even if Jim's bride was now there, to face whatever she had to face in the way of snide gossip. Would that be any worse than to go on living in that strained atmosphere at Hetty's? Since Holly had started the lending library and made some friends of her own, Hetty seemed to resent her even more. Was it worth it to remain under these circumstances?
Before Holly could tactfully answer Blaine's question, he suddenly jerked the reins and pulled the small vehicle to an abrupt stop.
"What's the matter? What is it?" Holly exclaimed in alarm, grabbing the seat handles.
"I don't know, I'm not sure, but look over there!" Blaine pointed to a figure slumped against a tree at the side of the road.
"Who is it?"
"It's Larkin!" Blaine said grimly. At that name Holly recalled the scene on the street when she was with Adam Corcoran and they had seen him reeling drunk.
"You mean the schoolteacher?"
"Yes. Poor devil."
"Is he—?"
"Dead? No, but dead drunk." Blaine threw the reins about the brake handle, sat for a moment as if trying to make a decision. Then he turned to Holly saying, "We can't leave him here like that. At least I can't," his mouth tightened. He gave Holly a long, evaluating look. "If someone else finds him, it will mean his job for sure. I've got to get him back to his place where he can sleep it off."
Holly felt an inner trembling. She had rarely seen anyone intoxicated. A few times at some public event or at an occasion like Fourth of July celebration she had seen someone slightly tipsy. Then, somebody always escorted the inebriated person off the premises with a minimum of fuss. But Larkin was something very different indeed. However, her reservation was fleeting. Hesitating only a second, she asked, "How can I help?"
"Good girl," he commented briefly. "I'll see if I can convince him that he needs to go home. Maybe he can make it on his own. Unless he's too far gone. Then I may need you to help prop him up."
Blaine got out of the buggy, and Holly followed him. Larkin was sitting on the ground, leaning against the tree trunk, his disheveled head sunk onto his chest. His horse had wandered a few yards and was grazing on the meadow grass. Probably this was not the first time he had been left to his own devices.
Blaine crouched down beside the man. Speaking in a low voice, he gently shook his shoulder. "Larkin, it's Doc. Come on, fella, wake up. Time to go . . ."
The man groaned, raised his hand, and moved it limply as if brushing away an annoying fly. "Lemme alone—go 'way," he mumbled.
Blaine looked up at Holly. "Looks like it's going to take more than persuasion." He stood up, plunged his hands into his pockets, tilted his head back and skyward as if for inspiration. Then, sighing, said, "I guess the only thing to do is try to get him into the buggy. I think, between us, we can manage. He doesn't weigh much." He looked at Holly questioningly. "I know it's a lot to ask�
��a lady." She shook her head vigorously.
"Of course not. What about his horse?"
Blaine glanced at the placidly grazing animal. "We'll tie his reins to the back of the buggy," Blaine said and went over to the horse. Rubbing his nose and speaking to him softly, Blaine led him back and secured him. He then brought his own horse and buggy around closer to the tree where Larkin was slouched.
"Now, if you can get his arm over your shoulder, Holly, we'll get him on his feet, I think we can drag him over and into the buggy."
Drawing up her skirt with one hand, Holly leaned down and with some effort pulled Larkin's arm across her back and over her shoulder, grasping his wrist with her hand. On the other side Blaine was doing the same thing.
"All right now, slowly straighten up," Blaine directed. I'll take most of the weight; now grab him around the waist; let him fall toward me—I don't want you hurting yourself, Holly."
Larkin was a small man, almost skin and bones. Even so, Holly was breathing hard by the time she and Blaine half-dragged, half-carried him over to the buggy. He was mumbling and protesting by then. Finally, with Blaine pulling and Holly pushing, they got him into the buggy seat.
"Hurry and get on the other side, Holly," ordered Blaine. Holly obeyed, running around to catch Larkin before he slipped down. By the time Blaine got in and picked up the reins, Larkin was coming to, slightly. Gradually he seemed to become aware of his situation but just barely.
"It's not far to the schoolhouse," Blaine told Holly as he skillfully got the buggy turned with the added encumbrance of Larkin's horse behind and moved back onto the road. "I just hope we don't meet anyone on the way—especially a member of the Town Council or School Board."
They rode the short distance in tense silence, with Larkin mumbling and eventually snoring, lurching heavily from one to the other. The smell of liquor was so strong that Holly wrinkled her nostrils distastefully and felt almost nauseous.
