by Caryl McAdoo
Sure thrilled him, getting word that Alicia could sit a spell with him that fine night. Such a pleasant and unexpected surprise that her father gave his permission.
“I like the way you think.” She eased down grinning.
Hiking his shoulder a smidgen, he smiled back. “How'd you talk him into another visit so close to the last one?”
“Apparently, Ma's convinced him that we're over here making all kinds of plans to run off and get hitched on our own. She said something already and I told her we hadn't even thought about doing such a thing.” She giggled.
“I imagine now she figured she'd gone and put the idea in my head. Anyhow, Pa thought you've been trying to talk me into taking off with you.”
Flynn resisted the urge to look over at her father, certain the man had his eagle eye trained on him already. “Your Ma said she would hate it if we were to run off.”
“I guess she thought she'd never see me again if we did. I don't know what she's thinking! Hey, did you know Pa and Uncle Reagan were friends before they ever met our mothers?”
“I do, but not before just the other day. And did you know that Papa and your mother were stepping out at first? And your pa was courting my Mam?”
“No! Who told you that?”
“Your mother. But seems my mother slapped your pa's face then run out, and Papa followed after her. That's how the right ones got together.”
“Oh. My. Gracious! I can't even imagine. And they all stayed friends!” She looked at the stars, shaking her head. “I can't believe it. Why'd Aunt Mallory slap Pa?”
“Don't know that.”
“Well, did she say how they all met?”
“At an inn, but I think it sounded more like a tavern, in Philadelphia.”
“Yes, I'd heard Ma and Pa met in Philly. Just not that your parents were there, too.”
“Our mothers had struck out on their own and were working at a chicken house, plucking feathers all day.”
“No!”
“Yes.” Flynn loved it that she didn't know any of it. “They were sharing a room in a boardinghouse.”
“Why did she tell you all this? So, they meet our fathers at an inn, or worse, a tavern. Mercy, you'd think they'd remember what it was like to be our age.”
“I'm thinking that's a part of our problem!” He laughed until his belly shook, and she joined in.
When the humor died down, she ducked her head and studied her hands for a bit. Finally, she looked up. “Pa did tell me Uncle Reagan was a rounder before he and your mam got together. That he had lots of lady friends.”
“Really? Wonder why he would tell you that?”
“I think he's concerned that you'll follow in your father's footsteps. I set him straight though.”
So that was why Seve Van Zandt was against him courting his daughter. But still, he'd been knowing Flynn for years now—off and on before they came to Tennessee together, and the last ten months every day.
Judging him on what Papa did so long ago seemed pretty harsh. Should have drawn his own conclusions from how Flynn conducted himself.
“I told him you were nothing like that; and that he could trust me and you.”
Bad as he wanted, he dared not take her hand. Instead he looked her right in the eye.
“Alicia, I'll be true to you until death do us part and beyond. I promise you that right now tonight here on this porch, and I hope to get the chance to say it again in front of a preacher and the whole clan. How could I live the rest of my life with a broken heart?”
She rocked back and hugged herself, like maybe she was doing it for him, feeling his arms around her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Say, I was wondering how you planned on whipping my babies when they needed discipline?”
“Oh, they're yours now, are they?” He laughed. “Well now, let me see. There's a bull whip until they get bigger . . .”
“I know you're only teasing, but really. I think a strap is too much. Uncle Laud uses a switch on Rich, and it seems to work real well.”
“How about we decide on the punishment together? Papa had a strap he took to me a couple of times, but his lectures were the worst. Way before he finished pointing out all my shortcomings, I was past ready to get it over with. Most times it only took a look or a word. I hated displeasing him.”
“What about your mam?”
“Switched me some, when Papa was off fiddling, but most times, she let him handle it.”
“Alicia, time for bed.”
She looked toward the cook-fire. Her mother had Aaron by the ear with Arlene tagging along. She looked at him. “One fine day. We've just got to talk them into letting us marry here in Tennessee. If we have our own wagon, that'd be our roof, I guess.”
Rising, she stepped off the porch then turned back. “I'll ask Pa how much he had when he married Ma.”
“Alicia!”
Waving at her mother, she took another step. “We never have enough time! I want to ride all the way to Texas with you! Let's make it happen!” She took off running. “Coming, Ma!”
“Sounds good to me. It's pretty much up to your folks,” he hollered after her, but not loud enough for all to hear. Sure hated it that he couldn't touch her at all, even to help her down the steps. Maybe he should give some thought to running off.
At least long enough to get married.
Chapter Nine
His mother and her brother returned that evening toward the end of supper. Even in the lantern light, Flynn could see they both wore concerned expressions. He grabbed the mules' harness and led them toward the shed.
Papa and Uncle Seve joined him, and soon enough, with all the help, he had the seed sacks unloaded and animals tended.
Once back to the cook-fire, Mam set her empty plate down and looked at her gin ticket.
“We weighed out at twenty-four hundred forty-eight pounds with fourteen-nineteen in seed. We had a thousand twenty-nine on our lint at nine and nine-tenths cents per pound; we brought home ninety-six dollars and seventy-eight cents after Mister Jenkins got his cut.”
She looked to her brother.
“I ran into Corbin, that’s Mister Harrell. He rode in with the last of his cotton as we were leaving and says he’ll head our way first light. Figures maybe him and his girls can get in half a day or better.”
Mister Seve took the cotton money from his mam, stuffed it in his pocket, then looked at Flynn. “Tomorrow is your and Mallory's turn.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”
Of course, he didn’t get any time with his love. Wouldn’t do sitting his porch with her two days in a row, although he couldn’t understand why that should offend anyone. Maybe he could talk some sense into Ma Van Zandt come morning.
Might ought to call her that to her face. Aunt and Uncle just didn’t fit parents-in-law. He’d been trying it out in his mind, seemed it had a right nice fit.
If she liked it, maybe he could come up with something for Seve as well.
Next morning, while he readied the wagon and mules for an early getaway, he rehearsed different speeches, but the words never came out right. How could he get Mam's best friend into his camp?
There had to be some way. If he could, she’d be a mighty force in her daughter’s favor in winning over her pa. Riding all the way to Texas in their own wagon would be the best ever.
Once—right after he met the Harrells heading to the clan—then again right before town, he dangled a baited hook, but she didn't take the worm. An opportunity never presented itself waiting at the gin or getting business done.
On the way home, he began to doubt his plan. Finally, at the last creek before the cabins came into sight, he just spat it out.
“Ma Van Zandt, Alicia and I are not planning on running off, but we sure would like to sit my porch every evening, and for the life of me, I can't see why that'd be a bad thing. We’ve got so much to talk about, and we just never have enough time.”
“I like you ca
lling me that.” She leaned over and bumped her shoulder against his. “Good to know that you two won’t be running off, but my husband can be pretty hardheaded sometimes. You know that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You and my girl falling in love is like a dream come true for me and your mam. Liberty and I couldn’t be more tickled. I’ll see if I can soften Seve up some.”
“Good!” He laughed. “Thank you, ma’am.” After a bit, he shook his head. “I can’t get the picture out of my head of you and Mam plucking chickens all day long.”
She giggled and sounded so much like Arlene.
Over beans and cornbread, Alicia took stock of the last week. A jarring ride to town with Pa and six hard days of back-breaking, finger-pricking, toe-stubbing work had her in poor shape. And the cotton picking sitting out there only half done, offered no encouragement. Good day's money though. She'd pulled an extra twenty pounds over yesterday's two hundred sixty-three.
At that rate, she might hit three hundred—according to Pa, a good job for most men—before all got said and done. Made her proud. That'd be no hill really for a high-stepper like Flynn though.
His weight topped three-fifty regular, with gust upwards to four hundred. And the way Izzy hit the ground running, she might even out pick him. That lady had a hundred seventy-eight in less than half a day.
She glanced over at Gabby who hadn't done half as much. Was she lazy? She let out a heavy sigh. “Mercy, when are they going to get back? Sure hope they're bringing some good news.”
“Sure glad to meet your beau this morning. He's very handsome and seemed well-mannered, calling my pap sir.”
“He is, isn’t he?” She could appreciate her new friend had eyes. Flynn was handsome, no denying that.
Jangling trace chains pulled her around. Ma and Flynn crossed the creek with big smiles on their faces. Had prices gone back up? Or had the lantern light shadowed them wrong? A tinge of green pricked her heart.
Why couldn't it be her making the trip with him and not her ma?
What could they be joshing about?
With no word from anyone about getting time on his porch, she hung around the cook-fire after supper while he finished seconds. The price going up two tenths of a cent got beat to death, then the coming election, but she ignored all that.
Flynn's smile filled her heart. Why couldn't they just go ahead and marry? Everything was so unfair. She had so much she wanted to tell him and ask him. She wanted to hold him and be held.
The memory of the almost—kiss had faded, and she could hardly wait to experience the real thing. His lips on hers. Her eyes closed, imagining.
“You sleepy?” His voice opened her eyes. Her cheeks warmed, and she giggled.
“No! Just thinking about something sweet.”
Digging into his britches' pocket, he pulled out a little pouch. “Well, I've got something here to satisfy that sweet tooth.” He passed her a golden hunk of hard candy. “Come here, partners. You girls, too.” He gave them all a piece of butterscotch.
He did have what would satisfy her, but it wasn't candy, although the delicious flavor bursting in her mouth caused her to close her eyes again, enjoying the creamy sweetness. Maybe it was better than a kiss . . .
No. She decided she'd take a kiss over a butterscotch any day.
In no time, she and he would be an old married couple with a wagonload of babies underfoot. Lord willing, she wanted at least four, three boys and a girl. A boy first. A new question for her list.
Would he want to name the first son Reagan Flynn the Third? What would they call him? Neither one could get shortened like Richard's. Guess Trey for the third would be an option.
If she was only having one girl, her name needed to be special. She tried out several but didn't love any of them right off. Mercy! Why couldn't she be having the conversation with him instead of only in her mind?
Mister Harrell stood and tossed his coffee grounds into the fire. “Suppose we need that roof now. Where did you good folks want us?”
Her pa stood. “We fixed a place in the shed. Hope that works for you.”
“If it's dry, we're good.”
“It's that and more.”
Izzy stood as well, then Gabby, hanging back until the dark—skinned lady walked on by, then she followed. As she passed by Flynn, she intentionally veered close and touched his hair, running a finger through it.
He looked up at her, but she kept on walking.
Hackles rose. That was her hair and only her fingers should be running through it! A bee's sting started in Alicia's belly that swelled to fill her chest, crowding her breathing. Her face got way more than warm.
Who did that girl think she was? Touching her intended right there in front of everyone. Gabby knew he was spoken for! Mercy!
Come tomorrow, she'd be learning for a fact what she'd get if she ever put her hands on him again!
Next morning, all during chores and breakfast, Gabby acted sweeter than peaches and cream toward Alicia and as far as she could tell—and she'd had her eagle eye out—the girl offered nary a glance in Flynn’s direction.
Had touching his hair been an accident?
Would she ruin any chance of having her as friend if she said anything?
On the way to the field, the girl sidled up to her. “Let's pick a row apart. Maybe we can get a word or two in while we work.”
“I'd like that.”
Best day yet at weigh-in! Gabby really picked up the pace, and Alicia, bent on bettering her new maybe-friend, picked two hundred sixty-five pounds!
All in all, the clan and hired help lifted more lint than the wagon could hold. Had to put better than five hundred pounds in a second wagon. She laughed and giggled with Gabby through dinner, making sure the girl ignored Flynn.
That evening when Reagan and the girls got back, the men all agreed the price holding at ten cents was indeed good. Then much to her surprise and great pleasure, Ma passed on great news.
“Your father says you and Flynn can sit his porch every evening from now on.”
Perfect! Alicia squealed then remembered her manners. “Oh, thank you, Mother! Did you talk him into it?”
“I did. I promised Flynn yesterday to try after he told me you and him were not planning on running off.” She smiled then leaned in close. “He called me Ma Van Zandt. Isn't that about the nicest thing? I like the thought of having a big, strong son.”
“Oh, that is so sweet. It is! He hadn't mentioned it to me. But then we never have time to get all the important stuff discussed before our visit is over. Every night! Oh, thank you so much!”
One thing she wanted to hear straight off that night was the whole conversation he'd had with her mother and what they'd been joshing about. Every night!
How wonderful it would be! She'd also be finding out exactly why he let that girl run her fingers through his hair, too! Get it straight from Flynn's mouth.
What had Ma said to Pa for the boon?
Maybe since he'd agreed to every night, he'd agree to her being wed right there in Tennessee! Oh, that would be the best!
After hearing the good news, Flynn didn't wait on thirds, but hurried to get the rocker out and his own cane bottom in place.
Thanking her father on the way by, Alicia strolled from the cook-fire to his porch. She untied her bonnet and took it off, letting her hair fall over her shoulders.
At the top step, he doffed his hat toward the rocker, but didn't offer a hand. Shame her father was so pigheaded, like him touching her fingers was such a horrible sin.
As soon as she took her seat, he sat his own chair. He just grinned real big at her for a long while then after a bit, turned serious. “The big shindig is this Saturday. Have you talked with your father about going yet?”
Her tummy tightened at his question. “No. Figured on discussing it tomorrow on the way to the gin. I've been putting it off because I can't stand for him to say no. But now . . . I'm hoping against hope he'll let us go.”
> “Papa and I have to since we're playing, but if you can't, then fiddling is all I'll be doing.”
She nodded then rocked forward. Good to hear he wasn't planning on dancing with any of the town girls . . . or. . . Would the Harrells be going?
“That's good to know. I appreciate you telling me. But speaking of other girls, I would like to know why'd you let Gabby run her fingers through your hair?”
“What are you talking about?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “I had no idea she was going to do that until it was over. I didn't let her do anything.”
Humph. That sounded logical, but he sure hadn't jerked away from her touch either. She rocked back and gazed off into the tree line by the last of the day's light. After a bit she looked back. Maybe he had been unaware.
“Well, she shouldn't be touching you at all, so don't let her.”
“How am I supposed to stop her? I can't read her mind.”
“Reagan Flynn! Be aware!” Her pa stood and stared at her hard. That girl looked, too. She hadn't meant to be so loud, so she smiled, waved at him, and lowered her voice to almost a whisper.
“Watch her. And if she reaches toward you, jerk back. Say something. Tell her to keep her hands to herself. I can't touch you, and I certainly do not want her touching you!”
His lips spread wide. “Yes, ma'am. I'll be mighty careful around her.”
“What are you grinning about?”
Leaning back in his chair brought its two front legs off the porch. “Oh, I like your passion. That's all. Hadn't seen this side of you before.”
“Well, when it comes to you, Reagan Flynn O'Neal . . .” That reminded her. “Which reminds me. What do you want to name our first son? I've been thinking about it.”
A chuckle escaped, and his grin got wider. “I haven't. But I can tell you, not Reagan.”
“Oh really? I thought you might, and that we could call him Trey. You know, for the third. I sort of like that. What about girls' names?”
“I love yours. Alicia is such a feminine name, and I love the way it rolls off my tongue. But I don't know if . . .”
