by Jane Peart
Even with its altering, the dress was very becoming. For an added effect, Holly tucked some of the silk roses removed from the skirt into her hair.
The dance was not scheduled to start until nine o'clock. Party or no party, farm chores had to be done, cows milked, livestock brought in and fed. Town folks had to close their stores and places of business. Men working in the woods, the local "lumberjacks," had to get into town, pick up their paychecks, patronize the barber shop and hotel baths before going over to the Town Hall. People living in outlying areas or coming from other districts had to drive their wagons long distances. But no one would miss this annual event, the high spot of the year for most people, a chance to get together for some fellowship and fun no matter how far they had to come or what the weather was like.
The weather was clear but with a definite bite in the air, Holly discovered after sticking her head out the door, trying to decide whether to wear her fur tippet and carry her muff or just her hooded cape. She decided on the cape. The fur ensemble might appear too fancy, as if she were showing off. Her acceptance in Riverbend had been too hard-won to gamble on losing the ladies' goodwill.
It was after eight-thirty when the pounding on the door announced the arrival of Matt and Geneva Healy, who were to take her to the Town Hall.
"Well, if you don't look like a picture, all duded up," was Matt's hearty comment when she opened the door.
"Thanks, Matt—I think!" Holly laughed. "I'll be with you in a minute."
"I'll wait for you in the wagon."
Holly flung her cape around her shoulders, wound the delicate knitted "fascinator" over her hair, gathered up her gloves and small velvet evening bag, and hurried outside. The sky was a satiny dark, pin-pointed with a few brilliant stars. Matt assisted her into the wagon alongside Geneva who exclaimed, "My, oh, my, Holly, you smell good enough to sprinkle on my best linens!"
"Oh, Geneva, I love the way you put things! I hope it's not too much!"
"Not a bit, darlin', just lovely like a spring garden." Geneva reassured her. "And like Matt said, you look so sweet; you're not going to have a chance to set down all night, you'll have so many dance partners."
A chorus of greetings came from the back of the wagon where all the little Healys were bundled down, scarfed and mittened. In Riverbend children were welcome at every event; besides, there was usually no one to leave them with at home.
After returning their greetings, Holly turned to Geneva and asked, "Tell me what to expect at this party."
"Well, first we just sorta socialize, you know, just mix and mingle with folks, some of the ones that come from Mills Flat we don't see but once or twice a year; then the music kind of gets agoin', and the dancing begins—"
"And then we eat, and that's the best part!" Matt chuckled.
"Now, Matthew, you know you like to square dance as much or more'n anybody," Geneva chided. "Well, around eleven or so, when folks are gettin' a little hot and tired, we set out the food—I brought my fried chicken and my marble cake—all the ladies try to bring their very finest recipe—"
"Oh, dear, should I have brought something?" Holly worried.
"Oh, no, honey, nobody'11 expect you to bring anything!" exclaimed Geneva.
"Single gals are there to set their caps for the bachelors in the bunch!" Matt put in.
"Now, you hush, Matt, you're goin' to have Holly all nerves 'fore we get there. Listen here, Holly, there's going to be so much those tables are going to be groanin'. Not only desserts but hot dishes and pies, and I don't know what all."
"I'm sure countin' her stack cake and Hazel Burrows her 'Impossible' pie—" Matt smacked his lips in anticipation.
Ignoring him, Geneva patted Holly's hand again. "Believe me, Holly, you're going to be a special guest at this party. You're just there to enjoy yourself. You've worked hard all this time with all our young'ns, and everybody's so grateful you took over and done so well. Why, everyone's still talking about the Christmas program. We never had one like it before. All the parents are so pleased that their youngsters had a part and did them proud."
As Matt pulled the wagon up into the row of buggies and wagons lined up at the fence in front of Town Hall, lights were shining out of the oblong windows. They could hear the sound of voices, laughter, and the squeak of band instruments being tuned. Holly felt her spirits lift happily.
"Give me a hand with this basket, Matt," Geneva directed, and Matt helped her down, then offered an arm apiece to both and escorted them toward the hall, with the Healy youngsters trailing along behind.
Outside, ranged along the steps, were a number of young men. All heads turned in their direction as they approached. A wave of sound, muted whistling, and mumbled comments reached Holly's burning ears as she felt at least a dozen pairs of eyes upon her. Geneva squeezed her arm and whispered, "Don't pay them no mind, Holly; they don't have polished manners, but they're all nice fellows. That's just their way of admiring a lady."
Inside it was bright, noisy, and warm. All along the sides of the big room were plank tables resting on sawhorses covered with white paper and festooned with crinkly yards of twisted red and white paper ribbon. Women were busily scurrying about putting all sorts of platters, bowls, and covered dishes out on each one.
"I'll just take my things over there and see if I can help out," Geneva said and went bustling off, the youngest Healy child holding onto her skirt while the others ran to be with friends they had spotted. Matt had stopped at the door to talk to some men, and Holly found herself left standing alone.
Then, directly across the room she saw Hetty in conversation with another woman. Hetty must have seen her come in with the Healys, but when Holly tried to catch her eye, her hand raised in a little wave of greeting, Hetty turned her head. Deliberately! Holly was sure.
Holly felt the old rage rise up in her. Where was her cousin's holiday spirit? Couldn't she at least make an effort at Christmas? Holly knew that her mother and Aunt Dolly would be sick at heart if they knew the situation between their daughters. Well, she certainly wasn't going to walk over and barge in where she obviously was being ignored.
Embarrassed to be snubbed so blatantly, Holly pretended to admire the festive appearance of the room. The decorating committee had done a fine job. Boughs of cedar tied with shiny red ribbons were draped all arQund, wreaths bright with holly, and glistening gilt bows hung over the doorways and in the windows. The little band on the raised platform at one end of the room was tuning up, sawing at their fiddles, plucking the strings, and twisting the tuning pegs, as the piano player tried to help them by striking one key.
Still smarting from Hetty's snub, Holly looked around for a friendly face and saw the mother of one of her pupils nearby. After exchanging greetings, she asked where she should put her wrap and was directed to an annex that had been utilized as a cloakroom for the ladies. Besides a coat rack, makeshift cots lined the walls so that sleeping babies and worn-out tots could be put to sleep if the hour got late and the party was still in full swing. In one corner were piled quilts, blankets, and pillows belonging to those who had come from so far away that they would stay overnight rather than face a cold ride home in the chilly dawn.
On the far side of the room a mirror hung over a long shelf. Loath to return immediately to the main room and perhaps experience again the humiliation of having her cousin ignore her publicly, Holly spent longer than necessary fussing with her hair and checking the tiny buttons on her gloves. For the first time in her life Holly understood what used to puzzle her back in Willow Springs—why some of the less popular girls had virtually hid out in dressing rooms at dances and parties, afraid to venture back to the ballroom where their dance cards might be left blank and they would be relegated to being "wallflowers."
When she could delay no longer without being conspicuous, Holly swallowed her pride and reentered the main room now filled with people. To her relief just then, she saw Adam walk in the door. Dressed in a fine dark suit, a frilled white shirt, and a fl
owing black tie, he could have been on his way to some fancy San Francisco social event. She was grateful when she saw him heading toward her.
He greeted her with a lavish compliment. "Good evening, Miss Lambeth, if you aren't looking as dazzling as a star on top of the Christmas tree! And may I have the first dance and sign your card for a few other dances before those rascals lining up over there fill it all up?"
"Of course, you may, but I don't think this will be a card dance."
"No, I don't suppose so. It's just first come, first served, I understand. I just wanted to make you feel at home where, I imagine, you barely get inside the door of any ballroom before your dance card is filled."
"Oh, Ad, don't tease!"
"Homesick?"
"Not exactly. But Christmas is a kind of sentimental time, don't you think? Thoughts of home and family and that sort of thing."
"But you have family right here. Aren't you spending the holidays with your cousin?"
Holly lowered her eyes, biting her lip, wondering how to tell the truth without making Hetty a pariah for not inviting her. "Oh, the music seems to be starting!" she exclaimed, skillfully diverting the conversation and the necessity of answering Ad's question.
There was immediate comprehension in his eyes. Ad held out his hand to her and as he spun her out onto the dance floor, he said, "Well, don't fret about it. I believe Vi is having a party for all of us who are a long way from home, and I'm sure you're invited there."
"Aren't you going, too? I know Vi mentioned that she was inviting you."
"Yes, she was gracious enough to do so; however, I don't plan to be here over the holidays. I'm going out of town."
"On a rail? After that editorial I wouldn't be surprised!" Holly teased, her eyes sparkled wickedly.
"No, folks have been surprisingly tolerant—or maybe it's just the Christmas spirit. So far no one has volunteered to provide tar and feathers. But just between me and thee, I may look around, test the waters, so to speak, for another position while I'm gone."
"In case the town fathers are secretly searching for a new editor?"
"Not that either. I think I may just be ready to end my exile."
"We'll miss you," Holly said, realizing that it was the truth.
"Perhaps absence will make the heart grow fonder."
"On the other hand: Out of sight, out of mind!" she laughed.
Ad pretended a scowl. "There's no verbal sparring with a schoolmarm."
Although they had some trouble measuring their steps to the band's first halting attempts at a waltz, Adam was a superb dancer with a strong lead and was able to make the set enjoyable in spite of the struggling band. Gradually the musicians seemed to get their instruments into harmony, and the next set, consisting of a lively polka then a popular schottische, was better. That was the last of the round dances because after that, Bill Hanum got on stage and began calling, "Gentlemen, choose your partners; we're going to do some high-steppin' square dancing."
At this there was applause, and before Adam could offer his arm to Holly, Matt Healy had come up and claimed her for his partner.
People lined up, men on one side, women on the other; then the command "Circle round" was shouted, and everyone joined hands and started moving. It was great fun, exhilarating and energetic. "Do-si-do, round you go, find yourself a pretty gal and swing her to the right." Sounds of clapping hands and shuffling feet were mingled with shouts and much laughter. Holly had to listen to get things straight because there were some new calls here in Riverbend she had never heard before. She found herself being swung right off her feet by some hearty man at times and giggling as she made mistakes and was pulled into line by others as she tried to keep up with the dance.
Finally the music reached a high crescendo and, with a loud twang of a fiddle, stopped at last; everyone was flushed, breathless and nearly exhausted.
"Just so you old folks can take it easy for awhile 'fore the next Virginia reel, we're goin' to have a Paul Jones," Bill Hanum announced, and the band began playing a soft, gentle melody. The idea of this dance was that when the caller blew his whistle and the band stopped playing, whoever you were facing became your partner. Whether by accident or design, Holly was never sure, but she found herself in front of Blaine.
Surprised, she said, "Why, Blaine, I didn't know you were coming!"
"I wasn't sure myself. I just got here, as a matter of fact. I had to make a call out on the old Mine Road. But now I hope everyone in Riverbend is alive and well, and from the looks of things, they are all right here!" he laughed.
There wasn't time for any more talk then because the circle began to move again, the music flowed and then stopped again. Holly had a succession of partners until the end of the piece. When intermission was called, Blaine magically appeared at her side again. People were thronging toward the tables, where cups of refreshment were being ladled out of huge punch bowls.
"May I see you home, Holly?" Blaine asked as they left the circle.
Pleased that he had asked, Holly wasn't sure if it would be considered proper since she had come with the Healys. As she hesitated, a look of disappointment crossed Blaine's readable face. "You've promised someone else?"
"Oh, no, it's not that; it's just that I came with Geneva and Matt and—well, actually, it's really out of their way to go around by the schoolhouse since their farm is out in the other direction—"
"You don't need an excuse to say yes, Holly," he teased. "I'm sure that Geneva and Matt won't mind; in fact, they'd probably approve."
A little embarrassed that it was so transparent she had been doing exactly that, Holly unfurled her little fan and fluttered it, murmuring, "My, it is very warm in here, isn't it?"
Still looking amused, Blaine said, "I'll go get us some punch; you wait here." With his hand under her arm, he guided her to one of the chairs along the wall and headed toward the punch bowl.
With the press of people and all the exertion of the lively dancing, the room did seem very hot. Holly fanned briskly to cool off while she looked around. As she did, she saw Ad's towering figure pushing through the crowd, carrying two cups of punch.
"Here you are!" he said triumphantly as he handed one to her. "I wasn't sure I was going to make it through that mob," he sighed as he sat down in the empty chair beside her.
"Thank you, Ad, that was very kind of you, but Blaine just went to get me some," Holly said, a little apologetically.
Ad frowned. "Well, you can drink two cups, can't you? It's hot enough in here."
Holly took a sip, knowing that Adam was miffed.
"Well, I better ask you for the next dance now, I guess," he grumbled.
"I think I heard somebody say it's going to be a Paul Jones."
Ad made a sound of disgust. "I'm not sure I approve of this kind of dance rather than card dances," he growled. "Well, the first one after the Paul Jones then?"
Before she could reply, they saw Blaine approaching. Ad stood up, leaving the chair next to hers empty for him. While the two men exchanged greetings, Holly gulped down the rest of the cranberry punch, then she quickly slid her first empty cup out of sight under her chair and accepted the one that Blaine handed her. Ad left them, and a few minutes later the Paul Jones was announced.
During the dance Holly had several partners because every time the music stopped she was standing in front of a different man. This way Holly had a chance to chat with some of the fathers of her students, and she enjoyed hearing them say that their children were enjoying school.
When the Paul Jones ended, the band played a fanfare and the caller shouted, "Gentlemen, claim your ladies for the last dance."
Ad was at her side instantly and, making a great show of checking a nonexistent dance card and giving an elaborate bow, said, "I believe this one is mine."
"Well, I . . ." began Holly, looking uncertainly at Blaine who had also come up.
Blaine motioned toward the Healys and said, "I'll give you the pleasure, Ad, since I'm taking Holly h
ome. I'll just go tell Matt and Geneva. I'll meet you at the door, Holly."
Ad said nothing, just bowed and held out his hand to lead Holly onto the dance floor, but his expression was ironic as he remarked, "I thought the proper etiquette was for your partner for the last dance of the evening to escort you home. Evidently I was wrong."
Holly tried to soothe his evident irritation. "Weren't you the one who informed me that Riverbend affairs followed no prescribed pattern?"
He made a grimace. "Hoisted on my own petard."
"Or 'snared by the words of your own mouth'," she retorted, reminding him of his contention that he knew Scripture.
"I'm just a little surprised that our serious, dedicated young doctor has time to attend dances and see young ladies home!" He glanced over her head around the room, asking in an aggrieved tone, "Why couldn't one of those overfed men or chubby children suddenly get an attack of food poisoning? Or one of the ladies faint and need the ministrations of our town physician? I'd counted on seeing you to your doorstep myself."
"I'm sorry, Adam. Thank you, anyway," Holly said, feeling a little rush of satisfaction. How flattering having two such attractive men vying for her favors. It was like old times in Willow Springs!
Almost at once she felt the prick of conscience. Wasn't she over all that sort of foolishness? Had she only thought she was? What a silly shallow person I am after all! Yet she still couldn't help the little bubble of excitement inside as the music ended and Ad reluctantly released her to Blaine.
"Ready?" Blaine asked.
"I'll just get my wrap," she told him.
"I'll wait for you at the door."
Holly hurried to get her cape, but when she came out, Blaine had disappeared. In another minute or so he reappeared and apologized, saying that one of the women had asked him to take a look at her child who seemed feverish. As Blaine took Holly's arm to assist her down the steps now coated with an icy glaze, he said, "Sorry about that."
