Ruse

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  At that moment, Otis regarded her with widened eyes and a softened countenance. Apparently he still felt her appearance was agreeable. Christopher’s clean-shaven jaw tightened when he eyed Otis watching her. Certainly he wasn’t jealous!

  Christopher’s gaze traveled Katherine’s way, and his blue eyes lit with pleasure. His unspoken approval was enough to make her reconsider her plans to fool Otis.

  Almost.

  After the men rose from their seats and the three exchanged greetings, Katherine took the remaining vacant chair, a blue overstuffed model favored by her father. She felt grateful since its presence meant she didn’t have to choose to sit beside Otis as Christopher sat by himself across the room. Still, they were close together since the formal parlor was small.

  As the threesome talked about little of consequence, Katherine compared the two men. Otis was a polished gentleman, just as his letters had indicated. But Christopher was both polished and more down-to-earth. While he didn’t dress in a manner as formal as Otis did, he still conveyed confidence that seemed to make Otis’s expensive and fashionable attire much less important than Otis likely meant for them to be. Christopher put on no affectations, employed no exaggerated mannerisms, and no flattery fell from his lips, but his ways communicated genuineness that Otis somehow seemed lacking.

  Wouldn’t it be funny if I ended up sending Otis home and was courted by Christopher?

  Until that moment, she hadn’t thought of Christopher in romantic terms. She wondered how the idea, so remote before, suddenly struck her without warning. She had never thought of him as anything more than a fond friend. So why did she suddenly become aware of his gentle manner and the way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice?

  “I read something of interest in your local paper today,” Otis ventured late in the conversation. “An evangelist is planning to visit the area.”

  “A common occurrence this time of year,” Christopher pointed out.

  “Indeed. So do you plan to go to the revival meetings?” Otis inquired, looking at Katherine.

  “Um, I hadn’t thought much about it one way or the other. We go to church every Sunday, and we always have a revival for a whole week come summertime.”

  Otis cleared his throat. “Faithful attendance to one’s place of worship is commendable, to be sure. How long has your pastor served your church?”

  She thought for a moment. “Ever since I was a little girl. I vaguely remember the first pastor. He retired long ago. Reverend Michaels is the only preacher I truly remember.”

  “I see. Then I suggest you might find interest in discovering for yourself how another man of the cloth approaches the religious questions of the day.” Otis’s statement seemed to be a challenge.

  “Sure. But I still don’t think there’s a minister alive who can outpreach Reverend Michaels,” Christopher opined.

  Otis chuckled. “I’m sure this evangelist won’t give Reverend Michaels any competition. But why don’t we go to see him all the same?”

  “Well, if I weren’t willing to engage in adventure, I shouldn’t have a houseguest from another state, I suppose. All right, then. Let’s go.” Her heart increased in its beat as she took a risk. She turned to Christopher. “You’ll come along, won’t you?”

  He looked surprised. “Me? Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

  “Well, then. Why not?” Christopher smiled.

  Katherine felt much too happy that Christopher had accepted. She decided not to ponder what that might mean. At least, not at the moment. She could worry about it later.

  “Are we still on for the concert some time during my stay here?” Otis asked, interrupting her musings.

  “Concert?”

  “Yes.” Otis looked at her quizzically. “Surely you won’t mind that I make mention of this in front of your friend Christopher, since he is certain to be included in your plans.”

  “Uh, of course.”

  “Oh well, perhaps you are not aware, Katherine. Miranda said in her correspondence to me that I must visit Maryland some time—”

  “She said that?” No wonder he had decided to make the trip.

  “Why, yes.” He continued undeterred. “And she said that when I did, all of you would put on a concert. Wouldn’t that be splendid?”

  “Uh, splendid indeed.”

  “I certainly hope that event comes about. She suggested that I might add a song or two on the piano. I’ve been practicing several of my favorite tunes ever since her missive arrived.”

  “How sweet of you,” Katherine noted.

  “Yes, how sweet.” Christopher didn’t sound as sincere. He crossed his arms.

  If Otis was bothered by Christopher’s aside, he didn’t let them know. “Miranda also mentioned that your church will be putting on a talent show later this month. Perhaps the concert among friends will be good practice for that event as well.”

  “Indeed.” Katherine hadn’t given the talent show much thought. Now Otis was recruiting her to take part. If he wanted her to participate, she would do so to please him.

  “Christopher will be invited to the concert, certainly?” Otis prodded.

  “Of course, Christopher will be invited.” She looked at him. “And you will be playing the banjo for us all, won’t you?”

  “I thought you were talented at the banjo, Katherine,” Otis said. “So, Christopher, perhaps the two of you will be playing a duet?”

  Katherine wasn’t sure why she felt her face flush. “No, Christopher and I haven’t had a chance to practice a duet. Although that does sound like a fine idea for another time. No, I plan to play the lap harp.”

  “Ah, yes. The lap harp,” Otis said. “I’m sure you’ll sound like an angel.”

  Christopher chuckled with so much suddenness that he nearly spit. Katherine would have poked him in the ribs had he not been sitting too far away for such a reprimand.

  “I fail to see why that is so amusing,” Otis remarked.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that—that—”

  Katherine held her breath, waiting to hear what he might confess.

  Christopher looked at Katherine and then back to Otis. “I’ve known Katherine since we were both little, and I’ve seen her look less than angelic at times.”

  “Christopher!” Katherine huffed.

  Otis chuckled. “I’m glad to hear you are human. I’m not sure I could live up to the expectations of a true angel.”

  “I’m sure you could try.” She crossed her arms. While Christopher could have revealed her secret, she wasn’t sure she was happy with his confession that she was less than perfect even though she was well aware of her flaws. To hear the fact expressed out loud by a friend was disconcerting, somehow. She decided to deflect to another tangent. “But speaking of an angel, Betsy will be tap dancing in the show.”

  “I can’t wait. First, you must tell me, Christopher, about Katherine’s not-so-angelic moments,” Otis prodded.

  “Certainly you don’t want to hear some boring old story about my childhood,” Katherine protested.

  “Oh, a little harmless fun couldn’t hurt. I know you have a sense of humor, Katherine,” Otis pointed out.

  “I have the perfect story!” Christopher launched into one of his favorite accounts about how the class bully dipped her pigtail into an ink well.

  “That happened with a girl and boy at my school, too,” Otis countered. “Seems children everywhere have the same thoughts.”

  “Apparently.” Christopher chuckled. “But did the girl at your school break her slate over his head?”

  Otis thought for a moment. “No, I think she cried and told the teacher.”

  “Not Katherine. She fought back. Wally had a bruise on his forehead for a week.” He laughed.

  “Mother wasn’t so amused,” Katherine pointed out. “She had to cut off three inches of my hair. For the longest time, I felt like a boy.” She groaned.

 
“I’m glad to see your hair grew back. No one could mistake you for a boy now,” Otis observed.

  She flushed. “Thank you.”

  As the men shared other amusing childhood anecdotes, Katherine sat in silence. Yes, it was going to be a long visit, indeed.

  Five

  As General Lee trotted down the path, Christopher barely noticed lush trees dressed in the peak of their emerald finery or the scent of the crisp open air with its mixture of fresh plant odors and earthy animal aromas. He was much too pensive to take in familiar, though beloved, surroundings along the road.

  The dilemma he faced left him with a sense of unease, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He desperately wanted to expose Miranda’s misguided plan, not because he desired to be judgmental, but for her own good. What had gotten into Miranda, wanting to put on airs for this acquaintance, a man Katherine knew only through letters? He admired Katherine’s desire to protect her friend, but he couldn’t condone the deception.

  Christopher had known Katherine all her life. And here was this stranger, an interloper, being treated as though he mattered more than anyone else. Christopher pictured Otis leaning back on the divan in a relaxed posture that stated his special standing at the Joneses’ place. Christopher found himself glowering at the dirt road. The image of Otis made him want to spit.

  In just a day, Otis had settled into the Joneses’ house and acted as though he was their social director, religious adviser, and royal guest of honor. Sure, he seemed like a nice fellow on the surface, but anyone could act all high and mighty when no one knew him from Adam.

  He wondered what Otis was like at his home in South Carolina. He said he had a job at an office somewhere in Charleston. He dispensed such a fact with the air of one who served President Roosevelt. Christopher could see that his rival fancied himself important. Well, maybe he was important. Maybe what he did in his office was more important than slopping pigs and milking cows every day.

  With the thought, he tightened his grip on the reins.

  Christopher could never deny that anyone who wore a suit to an office, which no doubt Otis did, could appear more dashing and handsome than a man in overalls. He looked down at his plain cotton shirt and pants. Since he had dressed with the intention of pleasing Katherine, he had made sure his clothes were clean, but they certainly weren’t expensive. Not even store bought. He had donned his best everyday shirt and pants. From his available wardrobe, Christopher couldn’t have dressed better. Maybe Otis could get away with sitting around all day in a Sunday suit. He was a stranger, after all. But if Christopher had worn his Sunday suit to see Katherine, she would have thought him peculiar. Possessed of a fever, even.

  Christopher tried to shake the image of Otis out of his mind, but he couldn’t. He kept remembering how the other man looked as though he was wearing something out of a Wish Book. The most expensive suit they manufactured, in fact. And his gold cuff links, octagons with scalloped mother-of-pearl edges, were engraved with three scripted initials bold enough to be seen from across the room.

  Christopher sighed. He had scrimped and saved to afford college tuition. Though he looked forward to a bright future, he didn’t anticipate a life filled with luxury. His dressy cuff links were unetched, silver-plated ovals that he only wore once a week to worship service. The contrast between the cuff links alone made him see that he could never give Katherine a life in which she could afford to buy luxurious frivolities. Even if he could, where would Katherine go donned in fine silk and crocheted lace every day? Worship service at church and the occasional wedding celebration called for fancy attire, but for the most part, farm wives chose sturdy, serviceable dresses since they engaged themselves in chores for the better part of the day. Delicate fabrics and excessive amounts of lace wouldn’t survive long on a woman who toiled in a steaming hot kitchen and smelly chicken coop.

  Christopher ducked to avoid a low-hanging tree branch, but his thoughts remained uninterrupted. If Katherine stayed on the farm with him, she would never know days of relative leisure. She deserved a life filled with garden club meetings and with luncheons where the women gossiped and played games and enjoyed indulging in afternoon teas. But if she chose life on the farm, she would have to work. Truly Katherine deserved better than an existence filled with drudgery as Mrs. Christopher Bagley.

  Lord, what is Your will? Just a month ago, I was certain You would have blessed my marriage proposal to Katherine. Now she’s got another man visiting her and her family, and her mother seems to like him a whole lot. Even Mr. Jones doesn’t seem to be immune to Otis’s charm and flattery. I admit to the sin of envy, Lord. I wish I could be in Otis’s place, to be able to see Katherine any time I like. I long for her, Lord. I wish Your will was for me to marry Katherine. I have wanted that for a long time. But if it isn’t, I’ll let her go. I promise.

  Even as he promised, Christopher felt his stomach tighten as though it had been wrapped in bailing twine. He knew he was being too hard on Otis. If the newcomer hadn’t been a serious rival for Katherine’s affections, Christopher might even have liked him. He seemed intelligent and nice enough for a city dweller. But he couldn’t like Otis. He just couldn’t. If this was a test from God, it was one he was failing. Miserably.

  Christopher approached the redbrick house he had called home since infancy. Grandpa stood on the front stoop, waving for Christopher to hurry.

  “Coming!” he called.

  Grandpa nodded and went back into the house.

  Christopher studied the low-lying sun on the horizon and realized that supper would be ready soon. He wasn’t sure he could eat. But for Mother’s sake, he would try.

  ❧

  “Vera, I’m really having second thoughts about this concert,” Katherine admitted the next day as they enjoyed a glass of iced tea over the kitchen table at the Sharpes’ farm.

  “Just tell Miranda.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried? No matter how much I protest, she only makes me feel like I’m not her friend unless I go along with her plan. You should see how she can turn on the tears.”

  “I can imagine. She can really make you feel like the world’s going to end if she doesn’t get her way, can’t she?”

  “Yes, and you know I’ve never been one to deal with guilt well.”

  “Neither do I, or maybe I’d have the courage to confront her.” Vera sighed.

  “Looks like us two sissies have to put up with this plan, then. I really do appreciate your help, Vera. I have to say, I am looking forward to the day Otis goes home.”

  “What a shame. I take it you two aren’t going to be courting, then?”

  “He’s never said the first word about it. And to tell you the truth,” Katherine confessed, “I’m glad. He’s nice and all, and he even brought me a dog—”

  “A dog?”

  “Yes. A beautiful collie. We named him Rover. I must say, Rover has made fast friends with Betsy. She plays with him more than I do.”

  “No doubt Rover has helped Otis find his way into Betsy’s heart, too.”

  “I think so,” Katherine agreed, setting her empty glass on the table. “But she’s always been fond of him. He pays attention to her and sends her little trinkets from time to time.”

  “He’ll make a good father one day.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Just not for your future children?” Vera prodded.

  Katherine shook her head. “No, not for my future children.”

  Vera sent her a knowing smile. “Then Christopher must have won after all.”

  Katherine felt her face redden. She wished she had left a swallow of tea in her glass to cool herself off. “I don’t know. . . .”

  Vera laughed. “All right. I won’t say another word. Besides, we have more immediate concerns. Namely, this issue of the harp.”

  “I know. I’m sorry Miranda told him that I could play the harp. And I’m even sorrier she talked me into trying to pretend I can.”

  Vera’s sigh reminded K
atherine of how her mother sounded when she was a little girl and had forgotten to feed the animals. “So, what song did you order?”

  “ ‘I Send My Heart up to Thee!’ That won’t be too hard to mimic, will it?”

  Vera sent her glance to the ceiling and back. “It won’t be easy.”

  “You’ll keep your promise, won’t you? You’ll teach me how to move along with the notes so it looks like I’m playing? For Miranda’s sake?”

  “You know, Katherine, I think it would be much easier if you would just learn the song and play it for real.”

  “Learn the song?” The idea sent chills of uncertainty up her spine. “But what if I make a mistake and hit a sour note? Or even worse, what if I forget the tune altogether and have to come to a grinding halt?”

  “So what if you do? Then at least everyone will know you were playing for real. And anyhow,” Vera added with such haste that Katherine wondered about her sincerity, “that won’t happen.”

  “I don’t know,” Katherine said. “In spite of my reluctance to go along with Miranda’s suggestion, I still think she had a good idea. I want to make sure the performance is error-free. It’s a good thing you can sight-read music so easily.”

  “For the first time, I wish I couldn’t.” Vera sighed.

  “You do think you can learn it by the time they’re expecting me to play, can’t you?”

  “Yes. I just hope for Miranda’s sake—and yours—that no one will realize the sound of the music is coming from the next room.” Vera freshened both of their glasses of tea from the pitcher she had kept sitting on the table.

  “I think it will be close enough.” Without adding more sugar, Katherine took a sip of her freshened beverage.

  A terrible thought occurred to Katherine. “Do you think your sister’s harp will sound the same as the harp I’ll be playing?”

  “I doubt anyone will notice. It’s not as though we’ll have a professor of music among us.” Vera scrunched her lips. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”