Brides of Virginia

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  Lazily putting the pins in and resituating them so they’d hold, he asked, “Why wouldn’t you want me to fix your fence, Rose? You’re always willing to help others; I’d love to help you.”

  “It isn’t that,” she said quietly.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Cordelia needs it the way it is.”

  He had only two hairpins left. He paused before choosing where to put them. “What does Cordelia have to do with it?”

  Rose started to turn around. He wouldn’t let her.

  She sighed. “I told you this was her home. Not long after I moved in, I went out to cut down the morning glory, take down the fence, and replace it. Admittedly, it’s in terrible condition. Cordelia was taking a constitutional, and she stopped to chat. One morning, her beau came by and took her for a walk. He picked a morning glory from the vine, and she started to apologize for it being there. It’s a weed, you know.”

  “Yes, but a pretty one.”

  “Jonathan told her it was called bindweed. He professed his love and proposed to her there by the fence. He said she’d twined her way into his heart, and he wanted her bound there forever.”

  Garret placed the last hairpin, took Rose by the shoulders, and turned her around. Tears turned the gray shards of her eyes silver. She blinked away the dampness.

  “How could I be so selfish as to destroy something that gives a lonely widow such comfort?”

  Garret studied her quietly, then murmured, “Of course you couldn’t, Rose.”

  Tempted to pull her into his arms, Garret cleared his throat. “I need to get going. I just wanted to drop off that sugar.”

  “I’ll bring you some peaches and jam tomorrow. You’d burn yourself on the jars right now.”

  “Fine.” As he headed toward the door, she turned toward the other portion of the house. Garret shut the door and shook his head. He’d been so caught up in paying attention to Rose, he’d forgotten the sugar. Oh well. It didn’t much matter. She’d undoubtedly use it somehow.

  He turned and saw Hugo standing by the sagging, peeling fence and nodded. “Lassiter.”

  “Diamond.” Hugo still wore the brown suit he’d worn to work at the bank, but now the coat was unbuttoned. He glanced at his pocket watch meaningfully, then closed it and tucked it back in his vest pocket.

  The action rated as utterly ridiculous. Businesses were closed for the evening, but with it being summer, the sun hadn’t even set. Rose always says Hugo is just a friend and neighbor, but she’s sure that’s all I am, too. This isn’t the first time I’ve suspected he’s sweet on her. Well, too bad. She’s mine.

  Garret strode toward him.

  “Rose isn’t exactly mindful of appearances,” Hugo started in.

  “She doesn’t need to be. She’s beautiful just the way she is.” Garret didn’t hesitate for a moment to speak his mind. Hugo had been looking at his watch—well, he might as well learn what time it was. Time for him to turn around, go home, and mind his own affairs. “Anybody who thinks otherwise is both blind and heartless.”

  Hugo chuckled and raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. “You don’t need to convince me. I wasn’t referring to her looks though. I’m pointing out that it’s not proper for a man and woman to be—”

  Garret bristled. “Are you intimating that Miss Masterson and I have conducted ourselves—?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” An all-too-entertained smile lit Hugo’s face. “Miss Rose is so dead set on staying single, she’d be oblivious if a gentleman came calling with candy and flowers.”

  “And you’d know that because you’ve tried?” Garret rasped.

  “Nope. Rose is like a sister—any affection I hold for her is purely fraternal. You, on the other hand, seem to be getting a mite possessive.”

  Relieved at Hugo’s words and more than ready to stake his claim, Garret stared him straight in the eye. “Yep. I am.”

  “So that’s the way of it.” Hugo’s smile grew wider still. “Truth be told, I have my eye on Cordelia Orrick. Hired her to start doing my laundry. It made for a good excuse to go on over to her place.”

  “She’s a fine woman.” Garret didn’t bother to hide his grin. Things were turning out even better than he’d dared to hope.

  “Nice little daughters, too. They get along with Prentice just fine. I don’t think it’ll take long before I can pop the question.” Hugo gave him an amused look. “Convincing Rose is going to take some doing on your part.”

  “I’m equal to the task.”

  Hugo seemed to think about it for a minute, then nodded slowly. “I can believe it.” He extended his hand. “I’m not above scheming if it’ll result in her being happy. Let me know if I can help you out.”

  Garret shook hands with him. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 14

  The next day, Rose sauntered toward the mercantile with two jars of peaches and another two of peach jam. The afternoon sun felt wonderful on her cheeks. Of course, that meant she’d forgotten to wear her hat again, but feeling heaven’s warm kiss was worth more than bowing to silly rules about fashion.

  She could hear Garret and Prentice before she opened the door. Unwilling to spoil the moment with the clang of the bell, she walked around to the back of the mercantile and sneaked in. Pickle scampered past as she tiptoed across the storeroom floor, but Rose tried to determine where they were. The curtains were open just a crack, and she shifted to peek through.

  Prentice sat cross-legged on the counter, and Garret perched alongside him, his long legs dangling. His right foot tapped in the air to keep beat as they played a duet of “Shoo Fly” on their harmonicas. As soon as they finished, Prentice begged, “Again!”

  “That was four times in a row, buster. I’m going to run out of breath.”

  Unwilling to be an eavesdropper, Rose set down the jars and clapped as she walked through the curtains, into the store. “I’m breathless. That was a wonderful performance.”

  Prentice shoved his glasses higher on his nose. “You don’t sound all squeaky and barky like the Sneedly kids do when they can’t breathe.”

  Garret chuckled. “Rose, Doc tells me those kids are doing better.”

  “Praise the Lord, they are.”

  “Miss Rose makes ever’body feel better.” Prentice blew a few notes on his harmonica, then added, “Doc says the herbs she gives him from her yard keep Mr. Ramsey’s heart going, and Daddy says she’s the onliest one around who can make Mr. Van der Horn smile.”

  “Now that’s really saying a mouthful.” Garret tucked his harmonica into his shirt pocket and reached for the jar of licorice. “I reckon I’d best get back to work now. Why don’t each of you have a treat?”

  “Wow!”

  “Prentice, mind your manners,” Rose chided softly.

  “Thanks, Mr. Diamond!” Prentice took the licorice stick and scrambled down from the counter.

  Rose caught the ball of string Garret used to tie up packages as it went flying. As she got ready to put it back on the counter, it felt odd. She glanced down and groaned at the bedraggled shape it was in. “Pickle?”

  “Yep.” Garret shrugged. “It’s a definite improvement over the pickle jar. At least string doesn’t leave her smelling funny for days on end. Did you come for any particular reason?”

  From the way he glanced at Prentice, Rose couldn’t be sure whether Garret was asking whether she’d come to fetch the boy or whether he was reminding her they had an audience so she shouldn’t say anything about the Secret Giver.

  “I need some cheesecloth and wire-mesh screen. Do you have any?”

  “What will you be using them for?”

  She walked past him, around the counter, and into the mercantile. “I fear I’ve used my Peerless food dehydrator so much, the screens on it are giving out in protest.”

  “And we’re gonna make dried ‘cots,” Prentice informed Garret. “Miss Rose washes them, and I twist ’em in half. Only I don’t spit out the pits.”

  “
I’d hope not.” Garret went to the hardware section and located the proper mesh. “A gentleman should never spit in the presence of a lady.”

  “Lotsa men chaw and spit.” Prentice wiggled and bumped into the door. “It’s yucky.”

  “Prentice, please prop open the door. It would be nice to have a breeze come through.” Garret redirected his attention to Rose. “This mesh is thirty inches wide. How much do you need?”

  “Five yards of each, please.”

  Garret leaned back and gawked. “Five yards?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Oh, now isn’t that simply splendid!” Mrs. Kiersty stood in the open door and beamed. “Rose, I wondered if the day would ever come.”

  “What day?” Rose and Garret asked in unison.

  “What’s happening?” Mr. Appleby slipped past Mrs. Kiersty and entered the mercantile.

  “Rose is buying five yards of fabric—and not one kind, but two! Two, mind you. She’s decided it’s time to—”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Kiersty, but I’m not buying fabric. I’m buying mesh so I can make dried fruit and fruit leathers.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Kiersty looked entirely too dejected by that revelation.

  Mr. Sibony, on the other hand, perked up. “You do have a way with those. I remember the strawberries you dried last year. The missus and I sure relished them when you left them behind that day you came to help her with the darning.”

  “Darning?” Garret’s brow wrinkled, then softened as he smiled. He stooped, lifted Pickle, and absently petted him.

  “Mrs. Sibony broke her arm last winter.” Rose smiled at Mr. Sibony. “It healed up, good as new. She showed me that quilt she’s piecing. The colors in it are beautiful.”

  “Well since we’re talking about material …” Mrs. Kiersty tugged on the cuff of her glove. “I still think Rose ought to buy some and make a dress for herself.”

  “Nonsense.” Rose walked over and took the mesh from Garret. “Everyone knows the Secret Giver provided a very generous new wardrobe for me.”

  “Then why aren’t you wearing one of those new skirts?” Mrs. Kiersty scowled at Rose’s old cream-and-green-striped dress.

  “I’m spending the day in my kitchen, preserving fruit. It would be impractical for me to wear nice clothing, and I’d be mortified to offend someone by ruining those pretty new dresses with sticky sap and juice.”

  “I’ve decided who that someone is.” Mr. Sibony’s voice dropped. “Mr. Milner—he’s the Secret Giver. I’m sure of it.”

  “How did you reason that out?” Garret took the mesh back from Rose. He winked at her as he did so. “Five yards?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Mr. Sibony and Mrs. Kiersty accompanied them over to the cutting table. Mr. Sibony said, “Hank Milner got that inheritance—remember?”

  Mrs. Kiersty’s head bobbed.

  “It was just before you moved to Buttonhole, Rose.” Mr. Sibony nodded his head emphatically. “The timing is just right. He’s the one.”

  Garret cut the mesh and began to roll it up. “I’m still meeting folks in town. Other than shaking Mr. Milner’s hand at church, I haven’t spoken with him. Mrs. Milner seems like a kindhearted woman though.”

  “Oh, she is.” Rose had to restrain herself from grabbing the mesh and running out the door. These situations were dreadfully uncomfortable. She refused to lie, but this time she hadn’t needed to even hedge because of how cleverly Garret managed to turn the conversation. “I’ve heard she’s organizing the bazaar so the church can raise money for a steeple bell.”

  “That’ll be a lot of work.” Garret snipped a length of string off the battered ball and tied the mesh into a tidy scroll. “But it’s for an excellent cause. If there’s a committee, I could volunteer to help out. One of the blessings of being single is that I’m free to use my spare time however I wish.”

  “Rose says the same thing.” Mrs. Kiersty sighed. “Well, I can’t spend all day jawing. I have hungry boarders to feed, and I’m clean out of baking soda and running low on lard and salt. If I don’t have biscuits, pie, or cookies, we’re likely to have a riot over there at supper.”

  “Seems to me, Zeb wouldn’t allow anyone to bother you.” Garret drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “He’s a quick-thinking man.”

  “Quick thinking, but not quick moving,” Mrs. Kiersty called over her shoulder as she headed toward the shelf with the baking ingredients on it. “His gout’s making him miserable again. Actually, his misery is making me miserable. The man sits there all day, grumping and groaning about his feet, of all things. Feet! That kind of talk in a kitchen is enough to turn a body’s stomach.”

  “Speaking of feet—I came in for about fifteen feet of chicken wire.” Mr. Sibony shoved his hands in his pockets. “The missus says she thinks we have ‘bout enough store credit from her eggs to cover it.”

  “Eggs are twenty-two cents a dozen, and you folks have fine laying hens. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you had gracious plenty. Let me check.”

  Garret nodded, then reached for the credit ledger. Suddenly he turned, stooped, and rose with the jars in his hands. A slow smile lit his face. “Rose, I can’t believe you brought all of this. Why don’t you take some of this jam over to Old Hannah while I see to Mr. Sibony and Mrs. Kiersty?”

  “I already took her some.” Rose figured he was trying to get rid of her so he could discuss the Sibonys’ financial situation in private. “I did hear Wilbur Grim’s ailing.”

  Mrs. Kiersty gasped. “Rose Masterson, you have no business paying that man a visit!”

  “He’s the town drunk,” Mr. Sibony whispered to Garret in a confidential tone.

  Rose felt Garret’s gaze. She stared straight back at him. “He lost a limb in the War Between the States, and he’s bitter. But he has never once been hostile to me, and he has a twelve-year-old son, Aaron. Aaron and Trevor were here last Monday, playing draughts with Leigh Anne.”

  “Oh. I somehow got the notion he was Trevor’s brother.”

  “Coulda been.” Mr. Sibony chuckled. “The Kendricks have a sizable brood—I can’t keep ’em all straight, and I grew up in Buttonhole.”

  “This can’t be right.” Mr. Deeter’s exclamation startled them all. He stood up behind the barred window in the post office and shook his finger at Garret. “You gave me your word that if you ordered anything heavy through the post office, you’d give me fair warning.”

  “I did agree, and I’ve kept my word.” Garret gave him a baffled look.

  “I just got a note that says you’ve got a huge crate, heavy ‘nuff to take a full team to pull, waiting at the train.”

  Garret shook his head. “I have a shipment due in on Friday, but I plan to pick it up. It’ll be several boxes—but nothing heavy or large. There must be some mistake.”

  Mr. Sibony scratched his arm. “I’ve got me my wagon and team hitched outside.”

  Garret tugged at the garter on his sleeve. “You might end up with credit enough for that chicken wire and more. Mrs. Kiersty, I’ll just put the baking soda and lard on the boardinghouse’s tab.”

  “I can scrape together enough to get by until tomorrow. Let’s go see what came!”

  “I’ll need to sign for the delivery.” Mr. Deeter came around and locked the door to the post office, and they all traipsed out of the mercantile. Garret flipped over a Closed sign and locked the door while Mr. Sibony unhobbled his lead horse.

  Garret curled his hands around Rose’s waist so he could lift her up into the wagon bed. He drew her a bit closer, squeezed, and murmured under his breath, “What have you done this time, Rose?”

  She just laughed.

  Chapter 15

  This thing weighs half a ton.” Garret grunted as he and the other men shoved the crate into a space he’d cleared in the mercantile. Half of Buttonhole’s citizens had gotten involved. They all stared at the crate with great anticipation.

  “Let’s open ‘er up,” Mr. Deeter said.

  G
arret grabbed a crowbar and carefully pried off the crate’s lid. Everyone leaned forward, only to sigh in dismay. “Lots of packing straw,” he said aloud. “I’ll have to open the front.”

  “You’re testing my patience, young man.” Mrs. Kiersty took off her glasses and waggled them at him until her hat bounced from the emphatic action. “You’re purposefully trying to string this out, and my old heart can’t take it.”

  “Are you expecting something, Mrs. Kiersty?” Rose asked softly.

  “Nothing but heart failure if he doesn’t hurry up,” the woman confessed in a sheepish mutter. “I feel like a guest at a birthday party. The gift is his, but I’m excited as can be for him!”

  Nails screeched as Garret pried the crate open. He loosened one side, then the other. He looked at Mr. Sibony. “How about if you yank on that side, and I’ll get this one?”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  The huge front panel made a loud crash as it hit the floor. Bits of straw fluttered in the air like confetti. Garret brushed off more of the packing and uncovered bright blue cloth.

  “Well, what is it?” Mr. Deeter impatiently reached in and dusted off more on one end. “Material? Material can’t be this heavy.”

  Garret spied an envelope. He snatched it and pivoted around. “Rose, why don’t you open this and read it for us?”

  “If you insist.” She waved him back toward the contents. “You go on ahead and unload.”

  If he didn’t know for a fact that she was behind this, Garret would never suspect that Rose had anything at all to do with it. She waved at him again. “Hurry. I want to see!”

  As the men pulled the heavy fabric from the box, she read aloud, “‘Instructions for installing your awning.’ Well, what do you think of that? Your emporium is going to have the prettiest blue awning the people of Buttonhole have ever seen.”

  “We all expected great things from you when you came to town, Diamond.” Mr. Deeter slapped him on the back.