“Well, the Wimber children are here for a story as ya can see, sweet pea.” Myra pointed to the group of children sitting quietly in one corner. “You go on ahead and give them a tale. I’m runnin’ out to the shed to fetch your uncle, so mind the store while you’re at it, all right?”
As the minutes passed and Vaden wove her tale of heroes and princesses, the children were enthralled, as always. Vaden loved to see the expressions that crossed their young faces during a storytelling. She’d always held a secreted pride in her uncanny ability to weave a wondrous tale. She smiled, delighted by their now enraptured expressions as she continued with her story.
“‘Try to spin, my dear,’” she whispered. “‘Try,’ the evil fairy whispered to the princess. ‘Spin. Spin the wheel, love.’” Vaden cackled in an old crone’s voice and giggled a moment when the children’s eyes all widened in horrified anticipation. “And then…the princess did, ever so lightly, touch the spindle of the spinning wheel, pricking her lovely finger. ‘Ouch,’ the princess cried. ‘Oh, help me, old woman! I’ve pricked my finger and suddenly…suddenly I feel…’ The old woman laughed evilly as the princess crumpled to the floor in a sleep so deep as to resemble death.” Vaden put her hand to her forehead and swooned gracefully to the floor. “The good fairies came at once to the lovely princess’s side and tenderly laid her on a bed of purple velvets and ivory laces.” Vaden unpinned her hair, letting it lay about her as she stretched out on the floor before the children. She closed her eyes for dramatic effect, crossing her hands over her bosom. “Then the good fairies flittered hither and yon, putting the entire kingdom to sleep so that all would be near, familiar faces who loved the young princess, should a handsome prince ever find her and break the spell she was under. And so she slept—the lovely princess on her bed of purple velvets and ivory laces. She slept as years and years floated past like the sands in an hourglass. Roses bloomed ’round the bed, beautiful white and fragrant roses. And the dust dared not settle on one so lovely as the princess who was sleeping for eternity.” Vaden sighed heavily and paused, peering through the slit of one barely opened eye at the emotionally overwrought faces of the children as they waited.
“And…and she slept always?” Violet asked.
“She slept for years and years. Decades and eons until early one autumn day, a day just like this, a dashing prince—the like that had never walked the earth before…handsome and strong was he—she slept until that lovely autumn day when the prince of her dreams was riding by the old castle and curiosity led him into it. He searched each room, seeming driven by some force only his heart could understand.” Vaden’s eyes remained closed, her hands motionless at her bosom. “Then, in the very last room to which the prince’s heart led him…he saw her—the most beautiful woman he had ever imagined, lying on a delicate bed of purple velvets and ivory laces. ‘What magic is this?’ the handsome prince muttered to himself. ‘What fairies pure have kept such a creature hidden from the world?’ Then…he went to stand beside her bed, and in a moment, he dropped to his knees, overcome with sudden and absolute love and passion for the beautiful princess before him.”
“What’s passion, Miss Vaden?” Violet innocently inquired.
“Um…passion is…well, it’s like love,” Vaden stammered, not wanting to explain the deep meaning of the word. “‘Forgive me, beauty who lies before me,’ the prince whispered softly to the sleeping beauty. ‘Forgive my indiscretion…but I must taste of your berry-red lips. I must…for my soul has searched for you always, and I love you.’” Vaden smiled when she heard the girls giggle with delight. “And then,” she continued in a near whisper as she lay on the mercantile floor. The children leaned forward on their hands and knees, their eyes wide with anticipation. “And then, he bent and kissed her ever so sweetly as she lay before him, ever lovely on her bed of purple velvets and ivory laces.” Vaden placed her own fingertips to her lips, kissing them briefly before letting her hand float gracefully into the air. “And as the handsome prince, dark-haired and brave, gazed into the face of his beautiful, nameless love, her eyelashes fluttered a moment before she opened them to see before her her own true beloved as he appeared that very—”Vaden gasped and pulled herself immediately into a sitting position, for as she had opened her own eyes in telling the tale of the sleeping beauty, she had found that none other than the handsome, dark-haired, and brave Ransom Lake stood looming over her, glaring down furiously.
“Mr. Lake!” Vaden exclaimed in a whisper, for his eyes were as gray and tumultuous as thunderclouds.
“Miss Vaden,” he growled. “Would ya be able to explain to me how I came to wake up in your aunt’s house to find myself completely shaved of my beard?”
Vaden struggled to her feet and stood to face him. But her mouth only gaped open, silent with guilt. He had obviously found his clothes in the wardrobe, for he stood before her dressed in his trousers, his shirt hanging open, and Vaden was glad he had not chosen to storm out to confront her in only his trousers.
“Let me ask ya another way then,” he continued when she did not answer. His chest rose and fell heavily, and Vaden knew he was wrathful as he fairly bellowed, “Why in thunderation did ya take it on yourself to shave away my whiskers?”
“I-I…thought it might make you feel more comfortable,” Vaden stammered.
“Missy, I think I’m a good enough judge of what makes me comfortable and what doesn’t!” he informed her, raising the volume of his voice dramatically.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Mr. Lake,” Vaden apologized, smiling reassuringly at the children as the entire group suddenly stood and exited the store like the building itself was aflame. “Truly…I was only trying to help you to rest more comfortably. Are you…are you feeling yourself again? You look just as hearty as ever. The color has returned to your face and—”
“Yes. I’m feelin’ hearty, as ya put it. But I’m afraid I’ve seen one too many of your antics, Miss Vaden. Ya shaved me to see what I looked like under my whiskers. It was your curiosity gettin’ the better of ya that finds me this way, pure and simple. And I’ll take a minute to remind ya it was curiosity that killed the kitty, miss.”
“I simply wanted to refresh you, Mr. Lake—a feat of impossibility with such an accumulation of whiskers,” Vaden argued in defense of herself. “Therefore, and I’ve said my apologies…I’m sorry if it has disturbed you. And besides…you are a handsome enough man, Mr. Lake. I can’t for the life of me understand why you’ve been hiding under that mess of a hairy thicket for so long.”
“Handsome?” he muttered as if he could not believe what she had said. “You’ve heard the old sayin’, Miss Vaden: never to judge a book by its cover.” He glared resentfully at her. “I assume it’s been Doc Sullivan that’s been tendin’ to me. Tell him I’m up and about and fine, and I’ve gone home.” Then he turned, storming furiously out of the store.
Vaden stood where she was for a moment, trying to calm her nerves and pinning her hair. Several thoughts battled within the confines of her head—the first being Ransom Lake was far too attractive! How unkind of the heavens to put such a handsome, astoundingly attractive man on the earth to make the hearts of women beat wildly. Beneath the mass of beard and mustache had been hidden an utter, classic work of art. It just wasn’t fair to send a girl’s heart to racing so.
The second thought that rushed back and forth in her brain was it was horrid to have him so angry with her. But, after all, what had she expected? She knew he would be furious, but at the time she and Yvonne had shaved him and found themselves gazing down at perfection in masculinity, that particular concern had not mattered to her in the least. Now, however, she felt differently. She had vexed Ransom Lake too often already, and she knew this was something he viewed as unforgivable.
Third, she had been lying on the floor, her hair strewn everywhere, her eyes closed and telling a fairy tale to small children—yet another mortifying fact! What he must have thought when he entered the mercantile to find her in such a state.
With a heavy sigh of humiliation and discouragement, Vaden forced herself to finish a few chores in the store.
“He’s up? You mean to tell me he just up and walked out of here like nobody’s business?” Yvonne squealed, having returned with Myra and Dan to hear Vaden’s announcement that Ransom Lake was gone.
“I-I think he’s had enough of folks being in his business,” Vaden pointedly answered to her sister.
Yvonne’s eyes widened in understanding and she mouthed, I told you so.
“Well, I’m sure he was plumb irritated to be down in the first place.” Dan just shook his head as if the whole incident were quite trivial.
“Dan. The man is wounded,” Myra scolded.
“He wouldn’t have left if he didn’t have the mind and strength to.” All three women looked to Dan in disbelief at his lightheartedness toward the issue at hand. “Girls, all three of ya…Ransom Lake’s a tough ol’ bird. I’m sure he just wanted to get on home.”
Myra’s mouth gaped open, and she shook her head. “Men,” was all she said.
“Was he quite infuriated?” Yvonne asked sometime later when Dan and Myra had gone out on an errand.
“Does the wrath of Zeus himself mean anything to you?” Vaden replied. “He was furious! I swear, if I were a man, I think he would’ve beat me to a pulp.”
“I knew it! I knew it! You should’ve let him be, Vaden.”
“No,” Vaden sighed, smiling. The twinkle in her eyes was as bright as the sun itself. “It was worth it. If he never speaks to me again, I think it was worth it. He’s heaven embodied, Yvonne. Admit it to me.”
Yvonne fought a smile, but her mouth won over her will, and the grin spread across her face mischievously. “It was worth it. Anyway, he’ll still talk to me.”
“Ha, ha,” Vaden sneered.
Later that same eventful day, Myra sent Vaden on an errand to deliver a shipment of hair tonic that had arrived at the mercantile. Mr. Polowsky, the barber, had ordered it from Myra some weeks before, and Myra knew he would be in a hurry to receive it.
“Run it over for me, Vaden, please. He’s probably simply desperate for it by now,” Myra explained, handing three large bottles of the stuff to her niece.
Still greatly unsettled from being reprimanded so harshly by Ransom Lake, Vaden rather nervously walked toward the barber’s building. She felt as if everyone she passed was aware of her vile deed against Ransom Lake, though she knew no one could possibly know of it.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Polowsky,” Vaden greeted as she entered the building. She noticed a customer sat tilted back in the barber’s chair nearest the door, a steaming towel covering his face. Mr. Polowsky was busily snipping away at a young Wimber boy’s hair. The boy squirmed almost constantly, and Vaden could clearly see the frustration on the barber’s face. “Your shipment came in on the stage today, and Aunt Myra sent me over.”
The man clearly had his hands full, so Vaden began looking about for a place to set the heavy bottles. “Just there, Miss Vaden,” Mr. Polowsky directed, motioning to a nearby shelf. “Just set them down, and tell your aunt thank ya for me.”
“There,” Vaden sighed, depositing the bottles on the indicated shelf. The small redheaded boy in the chair began to bounce up and down, annoying Mr. Polowsky further. “You sit still for Mr. Polowsky, Ronald, or I won’t finish the story I started for you today next time.” The young boy nodded at Vaden and smiled. “You’ve certainly got your hands full today,” Vaden called to Mr. Polowsky as she took several steps backward toward the door, still watching the irate barber battling with the boy. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, that’s for—oh!” Vaden felt her foot catch on something behind her. Before she could even attempt to regain her balance, she was helplessly tumbling backward. She tripped again, this time on the barber’s chair closest to the door, and landed solidly in the lap of the man who sat there.
“Ooof!” the man breathed as Vaden’s tender seat landed squarely in his lap.
“Oh!” Vaden gasped, reflexively reaching out and taking hold of the man’s arm in order to stop herself from toppling completely backward and onto the floor. “Forgive me. I…” she apologized. When the warmed towel fell from the man’s face as he sat erect, she gasped as she found herself gazing once again into the tempestuous eyes of Ransom Lake.
The disturbingly attractive man scowled angrily at her, drew in a deep, calming breath, took hold of her arms, and roughly pushed her from his lap. He was astounding to look at! Vaden could only stand staring at him as he removed himself from the chair and stood before her. “You will be the death of me yet, girl,” he growled. Vaden’s eyes widened, for she was simply awestruck by his appearance. His hair had been cut to a neat and smart length, and it only served to emphasize his already inconceivably appealing appearance.
“You…you cut your hair,” she mumbled.
Ransom Lake’s eyebrows rose from a frown to their normal position. He said, “You’ve taken my beard from me, ya little Delilah. I figure I may as well go the whole way as Samson did. And, like I said, you’ll be the death of me. I’m startin’ to believe that. Ya didn’t even have the consideration to take proper care of my face after ya stole my whiskers. My face hasn’t seen the sun in near to ten years, and now it’s sore as a mule’s behind from razor burn.” Turning to Mr. Polowsky, he mumbled, “Thank ya, Dale.” Taking his hat from the hat rack near the door, he looked to Vaden once more, disapprovingly shaking his head before storming off.
After watching Ransom Lake walk a ways down the street, every person he passed understandably gawking at him, Vaden turned to find Mr. Polowsky staring at her with raised eyebrows.
“He needed a shave,” she stated. “Don’t you agree?”
Mr. Polowsky only shook his head as if he hadn’t heard her correctly and returned to his redheaded task at hand. With a heavy sigh, Vaden left Mr. Polowsky’s shop and started home. No sooner had she passed the next building, however, when she was bombarded with the attention of Belva, Selma, and Raylin.
“Did ya see that?” Raylin squealed, taking hold of Vaden’s arm. “Did ya see that dream of a man that just went walkin’ on by down the road?”
“Yes. I saw him,” Vaden answered bluntly, for it only at that moment came to her realization that in having shaved Ransom Lake for her own curious purposes, she had exposed his superb grandeur of physical feature to all the world. Now every woman for miles around would be pining away after him. She scolded herself inwardly for giving into the temptation and shaving his face. Before she had done it, he had been hers. Yes, Belva too had been intrigued by him, but for the most part people had kept their distance from Ransom Lake. Now it would be different, painfully different.
“I knew he’d be handsome under all that mess,” Belva whispered.
“But did ya see that? Sakes alive! He’s…he’s…unbelievable!” Selma sighed.
“I shaved him,” Vaden blurted out. She couldn’t stand their not knowing. Her pitiful ego had to divulge the information. It had to let the other girls know she had been the first to lay eyes on his astounding appearance.
“What do ya mean by that?” Belva spat.
“While he was unconscious in my uncle’s house, I thought…I thought he might be more comfortable after a shave.” Vaden returned Belva’s glare, though she could not match the hatred in it.
“What’s goin’ on, ladies?” Jerome asked as he and Nathaniel approached.
“You have gotto see Ransom Lake, Nate,” Raylin squealed. “Ya won’t believe it! He’s all shaven, short hair, and walkin’ around town like it’s nobody’s business.”
“It is nobody’s business,” Belva spat. “Ya all treat him like some freak at a circus, worst of all you, Vaden Valmont. I’ve no doubt he thinks you’re the biggest nosy-rosy busybody in town. Imagine! Takin’ such familiarities with a man, a convalescin’ man at that. You had better think twice about this girl, Jerome. Hard tellin’ what she’ll try to pull on you.”
&nb
sp; “What in tarnation are ya goin’ on about, Belva?” Jerome asked, obviously irritated.
“I’m going home,” Vaden choked as tears rose to her eyes. “I’m just going home.”
“Miss Vaden?” Jerome reached out and smoothed Vaden’s forehead, moving a stray strand of her hair away from her eyes. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Let Belva tell you. She thinks she knows everything. I’m certain the story will be much more exciting and degrading to me in her words.” With that, she turned and fled toward the mercantile.
It did not take long for the gossip to begin about the newly revealed Ransom Lake. By the very next morning, townsfolk were coming into the store in droves to quiz Vaden and Yvonne, Dan and Myra, and whoever else may have seen the shaven hermit.
“They say he’s better lookin’ than some of them Greek gods were supposed to have been,” Sue Ellen Wimber told her sister-in-law as they stood chatting with Myra in the store.
“I’ve seen him! He’s…it’s unimaginable why a man that looks like that would hide away like he’s been doin’!” another woman said.
“Oh, he’s plain as mud,” Jerome Clayton argued as he and some other young men entered the store.
“You’re just afraid of a little competition, old man,” Nathaniel teased his friend.
“Ransom Lake ain’t no competition, boys,” Jerome assured him. “Miss Vaden, you were the first to see him. Is he as all-fired good-lookin’ as everyone says he is?”
Vaden cleared her throat. Every set of eyes in the store was intent upon her as the people of the town waited for her answer. Jerome’s eyes narrowed, and Vaden knew he was irritated about the whole matter.
“He’s extraordinarily handsome,” she stated. Then as the hot blush began to rise to her cheeks, she added, “Excuse me,” as she walked through the crowd of people, out the front door, and into the street.
Yvonne was quickly at her heels, knowing well the signs of her sister being upset. “Vaden? What’s wrong?” she asked.
The Visions of Ransom Lake Page 9
