Fern

by Greenwood, Leigh

  "That's not half bad," Mrs. Abbott said, when they had shoved what Fern was certain were at least a hundred pins into her hair.

  "Actually it's quite good," Rose said. "Much better than I had hoped for."

  "Let me see," Fern said.

  "Not until we get you in the dress," Rose said. "I don't want you to see anything until you're completely done."

  The last several hours had seemed long and tedious and, most of the time, boring and lacking any excitement. Fern had had to keep reminding herself they were necessary to getting dressed for a party, necessary because of Madison.

  Putting on the dress was different. All the drama of the day was now distilled into a few minutes. Any moment now the transformation would be complete.

  Nothing bored her any longer. She could feel the same excited expectation she imagined every woman feels when she dresses up, when she is about to see herself revealed as something more glorious than she had supposed.

  She silently endured the fitting of the dress, the tugs and pulls to settle it into place. The fit was so perfect it could have been bought for her. She also endured the questions of whether to wear the jacket or a shawl to hide her shoulders -- they settled on a jacket -- use a scarf, or rely on a fan. She even managed to endure the discussion of jewelry and Rose and Mrs. Abbott trying several combinations before they were satisfied.

  But when they started to discuss whether she would wear flowers in her hair, and if so, what kind, she could stand it no longer.

  "I've got to see what I look like," she said, fidgeting with impatience.

  "I still say flowers would give just the right touch," Mrs. Abbott insisted. "Besides, her complexion might not look so rough."

  "There's nothing any flower can do for my face," Fern stated. "It's always looked like old leather, and it's going to keep on looking like that. Now let me see what I look like."

  "I guess we have kept you waiting long enough," Rose said. She took the mirror and held it up for Fern to see.

  Fern could hardly believe she was looking at herself. She wasn't beautiful, she never would be, but there wasn't a bulldog calf in all of Kansas that looked as pretty as she did right now.

  But the biggest shock was that she didn't look anything like herself. That wasn't Fern Sproull. She might as well be looking at a stranger, someone nobody in Abilene had seen before.

  "You like it?" Mrs. Abbott asked, more impatient than Rose with Fern's silence.

  "I don't look like me."

  "I should think that would make you happy," Mrs. Abbott said, causing Rose to frown at her quite severely.

  "I guess it does," Fern said, "but it's strange to look at yourself and see someone else. It's almost like I don't exist anymore."

  "It's another side of you," Rose said. "It's always been there. You've just been hiding it."

  "It's just as well," Fern said, hardly knowing what to say. "What would I do with her on the farm?" she said, pointing at the woman in the mirror. She was talking like there were two of her. She felt like two people. Surely this other woman would be completely different, would feel and act unlike herself. That made Fern feel uneasy. Madison had already introduced too many uncertainties into her life. She wasn't sure she could handle any more.

  "You'll learn," Rose said. "It's not always easy, but we all learn."

  But Fern wasn't sure she wanted to. It had taken years to become comfortable with herself. Now she knew what was expected of her. Everyone knew what she expected of them. She had no idea what to do with the woman in the mirror. But worse than that, she was afraid of what other people might expect of her. After the way she had reacted to Madison, she was afraid of what she might expect of herself.

  * * * * *

  Fern felt sick with apprehension. Despite the evidence of her own eyes, as well as Rose and Mrs. Abbott's assurances that she looked lovely, she was petrified of what Madison would think. He'd never seen her in a dress. If he was telling the truth and didn't love Samantha, he might not love her now that she neither looked like herself nor was half as pretty as Samantha.

  "Stop chewing your nails," Rose said. "You look lovely."

  "I'm not chewing my nails. I can't even find them." Fern wore mittens, something else that made her uncomfortable.

  "Well you are biting your lips. If you don't stop, they'll be swollen twice their size before Madison gets here."

  "I thought men liked women to have generous lips."

  "Maybe, but I doubt they like the taste of blood on them." George came into the room. "Tell her she looks nice," Rose directed her husband.

  Fern made herself smile for George, but it didn't matter what George thought. It only mattered that Madison like her. She couldn't go to the party if he was ashamed of her. Neither could she stay home, not after all the work Rose and Mrs. Abbott had done.

  "You look very lovely," George assured her. "I have to confess I didn't expect you to be so pretty. You've done yourself, and the men of Abilene, a grave injustice by dressing in pants all these years."

  "See, I told you," Rose said, smiling, needing no one's approbation except her husband's to make her happy. "Now as soon as I can find William Henry to say goodbye, I'll be ready to go."

  Mrs. Abbott came in with William Henry dressed for bed. He dutifully kissed his mother and father.

  "Where is Fern?" the little boy asked when he emerged from his mother's embrace. "I want to kiss her goodnight, too."

  "That's Fern," his mother said.

  "You can't fool me," he said, laughing happily because he thought his parents were trying to trick him and had failed. "Fern wears pants like me and Daddy."

  "You don't recognize her because she's wearing a dress," Rose said.

  Fern kneeled down until she was face to face with the child. "I'm just dressed up so I can go to a party. Do I look so very different?"

  William Henry didn't look convinced. Fern felt panic. If the child didn't recognize her, what would Madison think? It would be like coming face to face with a stranger, and he wasn't a man to take quickly to strangers. What's more, he hated being surprised.

  "You don't look like Fern," William Henry said.

  "But I am," Fern assured him, tears starting to gather in her eyes. "I just got dressed up so I could go to the party with your Uncle Madison."

  "It really is Fern," Rose said. "Now hurry up and give her a kiss. You have to go to bed."

  William Henry seemed willing to take his mother's word. "You're as pretty as that other lady Uncle Madison brought here," he said. "You're almost as pretty as Mommy."

  Fern gave the child a big kiss and a quick, fierce hug.

  "You're a shameless flatterer. I hope your wife is as beautiful as a princess and all your children little angels. Now run away to bed. I promise to tell you everything about the party tomorrow."

  "Boys don't like parties," William Henry announced very solemnly, "but I'll listen if you want me to."

  "Scram," George said. "It's the Randolph in him," the proud father explained to Fern. "We can't seem to do anything about it."

  "Don't change a thing," Fern said. "It may drive his wife crazy, but it'll make her love him all the more."

  "Yes," Rose agreed softly, her luminous gaze on her husband and son as they left the room.

  "It's hard to imagine Madison was ever that small," Fern said, almost to herself.

  "George, too," Rose agreed. As if suddenly remembering something, she left the room and returned moments later with a photograph. "You might like to see this." She handed Fern the Randolph family photograph. "Can you find Madison?"

  Almost as if guided by an unseen finger, Fern's eyes went immediately to the tall, thin boy standing to the left of George.

  "He was sixteen," Rose said.

  "He looks so young," Fern said, "like nothing unkind or cruel has been able to touch him yet."

  "It had even then," Rose said. "His father made his life miserable. Madison won't tell you, but I will." She pointed to William Henry Randolph. "
Look at him. He must have been the most handsome man in the world, the kind of man women only dream about."

  "No wonder George and Madison are so good looking," Fern said, "but even they're not as handsome as their father."

  "I can't begin to tell you the things he did to those boys," Rose said. "He must have been the most cruel and vicious man who ever lived. Did you know Madison was born on Valentine's day?"

  Fern shook her head.

  "According to George, their father taunted Madison with it, teased and badgered him until he refused to celebrate his birthday. When he asked to be sent away to school, their father made him come home because he knew Madison liked it."

  "But that was cruel."

  "It was no worse than what he did to the other boys. But I'm not telling you this to make you feel sorry for them or angry at their father. I just want you to know why Madison might have some difficulty expressing his love, even being able to believe in your love."

  "I . . . we . . . "

  "I'm not asking you to tell me anything," Rose assured her, "but I couldn't help but notice things have been strained between you, especially since Miss Bruce and her brother arrived."

  "It's not--"

  "I'm sure it's not. But Madison still has some questions to answer, not the least of which is whether he wants to become part of the family again."

  "But I thought . . . he and George . . . "

  "George isn't all the family. Hen still hasn't forgiven him. And then there's Monty and Jeff."

  "And the others?"

  "Tyler and Zac were too young to remember much."

  "What can I have to do with this?"

  "You've been as hard on Madison as anyone else, maybe even harder. I'm not blaming you," Rose said, when Fern colored with embarrassment. "Circumstances conspired to put you at odds with each other, but that's over now. Madison is at a crossroads. The decisions he makes now will determine how he lives the rest of his life. He very much needs someone who can accept him for what he is without any qualifications. I don't think he's ever had that before."

  "I'm sure Miss Bruce accepts him without qualification." Fern was ashamed of herself for saying that. It sounded petty and small.

  "Maybe, but it's not Miss Bruce's acceptance he's looking for. If it were, he probably wouldn't have left Boston."

  Fern had never thought of it like that before. She had always assumed he had left Boston against his will, that he couldn't wait to get back so he could forget Kansas ever existed.

  But suppose that wasn't true. Suppose they were both mistaken and he was looking for something, for someone, he could only find in Kansas.

  "I don't know if I should tell you this yet," Rose continued, "but Madison bought that dress for you. He bought the blue one, too. He thought you probably didn't have anything to wear to the party and might not go."

  Fern felt a shiver of anger, a splinter of betrayal. She had been duped again. This was just one more example of Madison's determination to get his own way.

  "But he told me not to pressure to you wear either one. He said he'd take you in pants if that was the only way you'd go."

  "But you said I couldn't go without a dress, that he wouldn't take me."

  "I was wrong," Rose said. "He obviously cares more for your company than he cares for convention. In fact, he gave me the impression he didn't intend to go if you didn't."

  Once more Fern's hopes flowered, but this time she couldn't feel everything was hopeless. This time she felt sure something would happen, that somehow things would work out. If anybody could make them, it was Madison.

  "But what about Miss Bruce and her brother?"

  "Miss Bruce has been going to parties without Madison for years. I imagine she can manage one more."

  Fern tried to tell herself to keep a tight rein on her hopes, but there was no holding them now. If Madison could accept her pants, if he could prefer her to Samantha, he really did love her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Madison kept his horse to a walk. He was on his way to pick up Fern in the buggy he had rented for the party, but for the last hour he'd been telling himself he was an idiot. The fact that he agreed with himself only made him more angry. Okay, he had made a fool of himself. That couldn't be helped, but he could help continuing to be a fool, refusing to recognize that Fern Sproull wasn't in love with him.

  She couldn't be and give up so easily.

  She might think she hadn't gotten over what happened years ago, but he was kidding himself if he believed it. The way her body froze every time he got near her was all the proof he needed. If she loved him half as much as he loved her, she'd be over it. As far as he could tell, she hadn't tried.

  Then why haven't you gotten over the things your father and the twins did to you?

  He could still remember being locked in that dark feed room. The memories no longer had the power to reawaken the fear and loathing he had experienced, but he remembered the time the snake crawled across his body. He had kept from crying out by telling himself it wasn't a rattlesnake or a copperhead, only a black snake looking for the mice that came to eat the grain. But he could still remember the nearly mindless terror as the huge reptile slithered across his body. He could still feel it against his clothes. He could still hear the whisper of its rough scales as they scraped against the dry corn shucks as it prowled among the feed bins for mice.

  A cold shiver arced through his body. Maybe he hadn't completely erased the memory of that day any more than he had forgotten the humiliation of being sent home from school. But not even the mortification of that experience could compare to the sheer gut-churning fury he felt when he learned his father had intentionally refused to pay the tuition because he thought Madison was too happy away from home.

  No, he supposed there were some things he would never forgive. Hurts that might take a lifetime to heal. If that was true for him, it must to be so for Fern.

  He turned the corner and saw Rose and George coming out of the house. So Fern had decided to stay home. He didn't know why he had thought she would go. Setting aside any other consideration, it would have taken great courage to face the townspeople wearing a dress. It also would have meant she was ready to make some changes in her life.

  Her refusal meant she was comfortable with things as they were. Madison could understand it, but he couldn't accept it. Not anymore. When he came to Kansas, he turned his back on the status quo. And he didn't mean to allow Fern to hide behind a life built on fear and misunderstanding. There was more than her future at stake. There was his happiness as well. And he wasn't about to give it up so easily.

  "You're late," Rose said, as Madison alighted from his buggy.

  "Doesn't seem to have been any reason for me to have come at all."

  "Oh, I don't know," Rose said, smiling broadly. "I think you're in for a big surprise."

  "At least William Henry thought so," George said. "He thinks your date is very pretty."

  "William Henry?" Madison repeated, confused. "What are you talking about?"

  "He wanted to kiss Fern goodnight, but he didn't recognize her. I hope you'll do a little better."

  Madison's heart skipped a beat.

  "Then she's going? When I saw you two alone--"

  "She's waiting inside," George said. "We'll see you at the party." He took his wife's arm and helped her into a second buggy. Even though it was only a short distance to the McCoy home, it would have been impossible to walk through the dusty streets and arrive in a presentable condition.

  Madison covered the distance on winged feet. Gone was the doubt, the reluctance to put Fern's courage and love to the test. He knew there were still questions to be answered, but she had come this far. Maybe, with his help, she could come the rest of the way.

  She was seated when he entered the room. She rose to her feet, her heart in her eyes, fear that he wouldn't like what he saw so clear in her eyes he would have said she was beautiful even if she looked like a mottled heifer.

  But she wa
s beautiful, more beautiful than he had ever dreamed. Unlike William Henry, he recognized her immediately. Not even the dress or the flowers in her hair or the fact that she wasn't wearing pants and a sheepskin vest could cause him to mistake Fern. Every detail of her face was burned into his memory.

  "You are a swan," he said.

  "What?" Fern asked, confused.

  "It was a story mother used to tell us about a duckling that thought she was ugly until one say she grew up and saw her reflection in the water and realized she was the most beautiful and graceful of all birds."

  He could see the tension flow from Fern's body as the set expression turned to a timid smile.

  "I don't look ridiculous? People aren't going to laugh at me? I couldn't stand that. I'll leave if one person even cracks a smile."

  "No one is going to laugh," Madison assured her, "but they are going to be shocked. You're beautiful. Really beautiful."

  "I'm glad I'm not ugly," Fern said, apparently still unable to believe him. "It would be a shame after all the trouble you went through to get this dress."

  Now it was Madison's turn to feel uneasy.

  "You don't have to look like you're about to turn and run. I wasn't too happy when Rose told me, but I changed my mind when she said you told her not to pressure me to wear it, that you'd rather miss the party than make me uncomfortable."

  "I see Rose talks as much as everybody else in this family."

  "It was a really nice thing to do," Fern assured him. "I couldn't stay home after that, could I? And if I really am not ugly . . . "

  "You won't have to take my word for it," Madison said. "Wait and see what happens."

  "Did you see Miss Bruce and her brother before you left the hotel?"

  "I escorted them to the McCoy's before I came here." He leaned a little closer. "I wouldn't say this to anyone else, but you look every bit as lovely as she does tonight."

  Fern felt like she was walking on air. Madison thought she was as pretty as Samantha. She didn't believe it, not for a minute, but it didn't matter that it wasn't true. It only mattered that Madison said so. That made it as good as if it were true. No, it made it better.