The Matchmakers of Butternut Creek

by Jane Myers Perrine

  * * *

  By the time she reached Roundville, Gussie had stopped crying. After pulling into the driveway, she flipped open a compact and glanced at herself in the mirror. Her eyes weren’t too red, but she’d better fluff a little powder on her nose.

  There. No one would guess how she felt.

  As soon as Gussie entered the living room, her mother asked, “What’s wrong, dear?”

  How did she always know? Well, today Gussie must look wrung out and red-eyed.

  “Nothing, Mom. I’m a little tired.”

  If Gussie had thought she could go around the living room and into the hallway without saying more, she was wrong. After all these years, she should know her mother wouldn’t allow that.

  “Come, sit down and talk to me.”

  Her mother’s soft, sweet tone covered a determination Gussie could admire and fear but never ignore. If she did, her mother would follow her all over the house. Into the yard. Once she’d even stood behind Gussie’s car when her daughter had attempted to leave without answering all of her questions.

  She sighed and entered the living room for a debriefing. Might as well get it over with. She sat in the chair across from her mother. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s taking a nap again. Can’t seem to get his strength back.” She knitted a few more stitches before she asked, “How’s Adam?”

  “He’s fine.” Gussie counted to five—quickly—before she stood and attempted to escape. “I’m going to look in on Dad.”

  “No, no.” Her mother waved Gussie back into the chair. “I did that just before you got here. He was sleeping.” She waited until Gussie sat. “Is everything okay between you two?”

  Gussie closed her eyes and attempted to come up with an answer that would satisfy her mother, not that any existed.

  “Oh, dear, he’s not your young man any longer. I had such hopes for the two of you.”

  “No, Mother, he’s not my young man.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.” Gussie kept an eye on her mother, attempting to read her expression. “We weren’t moving forward so we decided not to see each other again.”

  “Aah. Very civilized and mature.”

  Gussie nodded.

  Her mother nodded. “Well, why don’t you go look in on your father. Dinner’s in the oven. I’ll dish it out when he wakes up.”

  Gussie knew better than to think she’d fooled her mother about anything. Fortunately, she was too sweet to pry.

  * * *

  Gussie hadn’t looked forward to the tubing on the Guadalupe River. It was late September and the water held a little chill, but they got a cut rate that fit the budget. Even worse than the cold water, she’d see Adam.

  Mature and civilized, she repeated to herself. Mentally, that worked, at least until the first time she spotted him. She repeated the mantra, but the words did not calm her, not a bit.

  He should not be allowed to wear a sleeveless T-shirt and swim trunks. Oh, the trunks were the long, floppy kind and the shirt certainly didn’t display a gratuitous amount of his body, but he still looked good. She had to make an effort not to hyperventilate. But what hurt most was what was inside the man. He was a good person who cared about her.

  She had only herself to blame for being too much of a coward to accept what Adam had offered. She should talk to him, greet him, tell him how good it was to see him. Instead, she shouted, “Hey, Adam,” waved, and kicked away in the other direction.

  Gutless, spineless coward.

  * * *

  The sun beat down on the tubers, hundreds of them from all over Central Texas mingling with their group of three dozen. A great day to be on the river, and possibly the last Saturday warm enough. Adam glanced at Janey, who floated along a few feet from him, drinking a root beer and humming.

  Farther away, he heard Gussie’s laugh float across the water. Six or seven of the youths twirled her tube around in circles.

  He really loved her laugh.

  “Hey, guys, you’re making me dizzy. Stop!” she shouted.

  With a grin which quickly changed to a frown when he realized this was as close as he’d get to her again, he watched for another minute. She waved. He waved back.

  “Hey, Janey.” Mac floated up next to them. “Having fun?” At Janey’s nod, Mac continued, “Gussie’s great, isn’t she, Adam?”

  He hoped she couldn’t read his expression through his dark glasses, the zinc oxide on his nose, and the shadow of his University of Louisville cap.

  “Yeah. Great,” he agreed. He turned his head to search for Hector and found him kicking his tube beside Bree. That romance seemed to be chugging right along. As usual, Bobby flirted with several girls.

  Adam hoped Mac would float away during the time he scrutinized the crowd, identifying and mentally counting the number of young people he’d brought from Butternut Creek.

  “You can’t ignore me,” Mac said from a few feet away.

  “Yes, I can.” Adam grabbed Janey’s tube and kicked hard. “We’re going to float around and see how everyone’s doing.” Could he escape from Mac? Probably not.

  After he’d maneuvered the two tubes across half the river, he could hear Mac behind him.

  “Don’t forget. I’m a runner. Strong legs,” she shouted. “Slow down. I need to ask you something and you don’t want me to shout it across the water.”

  With that threat, he paddled back toward the pillar’s granddaughter, pulling Janey along with him. Genes ran true. She’d never give up.

  “Why aren’t you and Gussie floating down the river together?” she asked once they were within two feet of each other. “Making goo-goo eyes?”

  “In answer to the second question, I’ve never made goo-goo eyes at anyone in my entire life.” He ignored the first point. Make Mac ask again.

  “Why aren’t you and Gussie together?”

  The kid never gave up. A true MacDowell.

  “We adults have to watch all of you from different places, to keep you safe.” To show how seriously he accepted that responsibility, he paddled his tube around to scan the group. “I’d hate to get home and have to explain to your grandmother why only Bree made it back to Butternut Creek.”

  He could feel Mac’s eyes on the back of his head but didn’t want to actually face her. He bet she could have read his expression even if he covered it with an iron mask.

  “The water’s pretty low. Hope no one gets stuck under the bridge,” he stated.

  “You’re not going to answer,” she stated right back.

  He kept his hold on Janey’s tube and kicked away with legs that had played basketball for years. She’d never catch up.

  “I’m going to tell Grandma,” she threatened as he retreated.

  “Go ahead,” he said. Might as well get it over with. Miss Birdie and the Widows should know they’d failed and would have to start all over again. He could only hope that humiliation would make them stop looking for a wife for him.

  Oh, sure. As if the Widows didn’t enjoy humiliation, especially that of their minister.

  * * *

  A few hours later, the flotilla had nearly arrived at the dock where they’d get out of the river, give up their tubes, and get in a bus to shuttle back to the departure point.

  Gussie gave a deep sigh of relief. She’d survived. They’d get back to the cars and vans and head out and she wouldn’t have to see Adam for months. Surely by that time, she wouldn’t lust after him.

  Except, of course, everyone—except Gussie and, she imagined, Adam—wanted to gather at the barbecue place on the frontage road for a last meal together, as if they hadn’t spent nearly four hours in a river together. She couldn’t get out of it without making a fuss, because tradition demanded that meal.

  Fortunately, Adam and a bunch of kids had found a booth on the far side of the restaurant and Gussie had shoved her bunch toward the other side, where she sat with her back to him.

  Once they’d settled, Gussie discovered tha
t Mac had joined their group. No surprise. The kids pretty much intermingled.

  Between ordering and the arrival of their meals, Mac leaned toward Gussie. “Have you heard,” the junior matchmaker said, “about the new single woman in town who Grandma wants to fix up with Pastor Adam?”

  “How interesting,” Gussie said.

  “Blond, professional woman. Smart, pretty.”

  “None of my business.”

  It wasn’t, Gussie reiterated once she arrived back in Roundville and dropped the kids off at their homes. It had been a week since Adam had demanded more from her than she could give. Now he’d moved on.

  No, Mac had said the Widows had found a new match for him. Not his fault. The Widows never gave up. Indefatigable in their efforts, unrelenting in their actions, unflagging in devotion to their cause, and inexorable. The Widows would find Adam a mate if they had to import her from Maine. It wouldn’t be Gussie.

  She felt implausibly sad. Why should she feel sad when she’d turned down what he’d offered? Of course, she still had her parents and the church and her business. They’d made her happy for years. Why wasn’t that enough?

  Maybe because she hadn’t been happy all those years? Merely content or comfortable or only okay but not really happy?

  Click went her brain as that idea slipped into place. She’d been treading water all these years. Yes, she’d accomplished stuff. A university diploma and a successful business. But she hadn’t moved on. Stuck in the same place for thirteen years and fooling herself into believing she’d achieved her goals and dreams.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mac tells me you and Gussie Milton are no longer…” Miss Birdie paused to search for the word. “An item,” she finished.

  Adam wondered why it had taken so long for the Widows to descend on him. He figured they’d have ambushed him after church last week or the previous day. He guessed Mac hadn’t squealed on him until the end of the week. Yesterday the pillar had glared at him when she filed out of the sanctuary but hadn’t said a word. Probably had needed a powwow.

  He could only be thankful he’d had all this time to prepare.

  “Come in, ladies.” He stood and waved toward the four chairs in front of his desk. He’d warned Maggie when she got in that they’d show up. He’d known they wouldn’t arrive until after ten with the work schedules of Mercedes and Miss Birdie, but he knew they’d come.

  Once they’d settled in their usual places, Adam sat down and asked, “How are you doing today? Busy at the diner, Miss Birdie?”

  “Pfutt,” she said, a sound he hadn’t discovered the exact meaning for. “Don’t change the subject.”

  “I didn’t realize we’d chosen a subject of the conversation yet,” he said with a pleasant smile.

  “You and Gussie Milton.”

  “Now, now, Bird.” Mercedes patted her friend’s arm. “We can certainly take time for pleasantries.”

  “Good morning, Pastor,” Blossom said, then sat forward in the chair and leaned toward him with a sweet sympathetic expression. “How are you doing?”

  Darn, he could stand Miss Birdie’s pushiness but Blossom’s sympathy about killed him.

  “Fine, thank you.” He turned toward Winnie. “How are you and the general?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” Miss Birdie said. “You know when you mention the general, she’ll talk about him forever. Crazy about the man. Hardly thinks about anything else. Maudlin.”

  “I don’t know if that’s the word you want,” Mercedes said. She stopped speaking when Miss Birdie glared at her and substituted, “Yes, Pastor, Mac mentioned that you and Gussie were no longer seeing each other.”

  “We have never seen a great deal of each other,” he said. “She and I met for coffee or for a movie but there was no great romance.”

  “You two went to Austin with Sam and Willow,” Winnie said.

  “Yes, a very nice evening spent with friends.”

  After that statement, he folded his hands and watched them calmly. Miss Birdie blanched. Winnie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him. Mercedes tilted her head as if wondering what to do next. Blossom, as usual, didn’t seem quite sure what had happened.

  “With friends?” Blossom asked him, then turned toward the pillar. “Weren’t they supposed to be more than friends? Didn’t we hope they’d get married?”

  “Yes, we did,” Miss Birdie snapped. “I for one am very disappointed.”

  “I am, too,” Blossom agreed.

  The remaining Widows didn’t seem to have anything to add but nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

  Still Adam sat at the desk, hands folded and mouth closed, until the cluster of disappointed Widows stood, nodded, and left.

  For a moment he felt flush with victory. The Widows had come but they hadn’t conquered him. He’d learned to handle them and felt strong and certain. For a moment.

  Then he felt a sense of loss. Conquering the Widows didn’t give him nearly the elation he’d always thought it would. In fact, victory felt a little flat. Playing with them was more fun. Having them attempt to find his wife, well, when the choice had been Gussie, he’d really rooted for them.

  Besides, he had no idea what they might do next, and he didn’t feel nearly as confident about facing the unknown.

  * * *

  “What do we do next?” Mercedes asked as they stood in the parking lot.

  “A disappointing development,” Winnie said.

  “Very disappointing,” Blossom agreed.

  “We’re going to have to start all over.” Birdie sighed. “And I don’t know how.” She shook her head. “I thought they were perfect for each other.”

  “Perfect.” Blossom shook her head in time with Birdie.

  “Maybe Gussie doesn’t want to get married,” Mercedes added. “She’s over thirty and still single. Could be she wasn’t as perfect as we’d hoped. Could have baggage.”

  “Could be her parents,” Blossom said. “I cared for my in-laws for years.”

  The four considered that.

  “Did anyone see that blond woman with her son in church Sunday?” Winnie broke in on the contemplation. “Let’s check on her. I can get her name from Maggie if the woman signed the friendship register. I’ll visit her and see what I can find out, welcome her to the community and ask her to come back to church.”

  Bossiest woman Birdie had ever met, but a good plan nonetheless. They all agreed and put Winnie in charge of that investigation before they left.

  * * *

  “Reverend Jordan, this is Mariah Wilson calling from the elementary school. I’m the counselor here.”

  What had happened? “Is Janey all right?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, although we do have a concern.”

  He waited.

  “Her teacher has noted that Janey struggles with her work although she seems like a bright little girl.”

  “I’ve noticed that.”

  “I wanted to make sure everything was okay at home.”

  “Yes, Janey seems to be settling in well, but it is an adjustment. I’ll talk to her,” he said.

  The kids’ schedule made life and discussions difficult. Janey always arrived home by four and started homework at the kitchen table. They ate late, after Hector got home from practice, then she took everything up to her room to work at her desk. She had no time to watch even thirty minutes of a television show. When the season started, they’d go to all Hector’s games together, but for the most part Janey studied.

  After dinner, as they cleaned up the dishes, Adam said, “I need to talk to you guys.”

  “Pops, I’ve got a big American history test tomorrow and I’m on KP tonight.”

  “I know.” He’d listed all their tests on a calendar in the kitchen. “But this is important. Sit down. I’ll take care of the dishes when we’re through.”

  Once they’d cleared and wiped the table, they sat down.

  “Janey, I received a call from Mrs. Wilson at your school today.” He
paused to consider how to phrase this without upsetting her. “How are your studies going?”

  “Okay.” She dropped her eyes.

  “Are you having any difficulties?”

  When she didn’t answer, Hector took over. “Janey, you’ve always had to work really hard in school. I’ve noticed you study all the time but your grades still aren’t good.”

  Tears rolled down Janey’s cheeks. “I try.”

  Adam handed her a Kleenex. “You aren’t in trouble. We know you’re smart. We know how hard you work.”

  “B-b-but, no matter how hard I try.” She stopped and wiped her eyes. “No matter how I try, I can’t do as well as my friends. I don’t know why. I feel stupid.”

  “Janey.” Adam took her hand. “You aren’t stupid. Your brother and I know that.”

  “But Amy and Cassandra always get perfect spelling papers and their tests are put on the bulletin board. Mine never are.”

  Adam had seen her spelling tests, the letters uneven and red marks all over.

  She looked at both men. “I don’t want to be different. I don’t want to have special classes in a special room.”

  Hector said, “Janey, you’re smart. I know that.” He pointed back at Adam. “Pops knows that. But you spend so much time studying, hours longer than I do. Do you like to spend every minute studying?”

  “No-o-o.” Her voice quivered. “I’m tired of studying all the time.”

  Adam watched the Firestones and felt guilty. He should have noticed this. He should have gone to the school about Janey’s grades and her efforts.

  “Hey.” Adam knelt next to her, balancing on one knee, to look into her eyes. “It’s going to be okay, really. We’ll talk to your teacher and the counselor and see how we can help you. Hector and I and all the people at church will make sure you’re fine.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “We love you and want the best for you. Do you understand that?”

  Janey nodded, then slid out of the chair and onto Adam’s knee. She put her arms around his neck and leaned against him. She felt warm and trusting. A wave of emotion and gratitude nearly overwhelmed him.