by Caryl McAdoo
So why did the thought bother her so? Zeke had come to stay. He wouldn't be moving Melody away. Shouldn't Lucy be happy for her?
“You really think they could be in love after knowing each other only a month?”
His expression softened. “Do you remember when Jake dragged me to church that first time?”
“He did? I don't remember.” She shook her head. “To me, you've been coming to church forever. Haven't you?”
“No, ma'am.”
Harmony tugged on her skirt and signed 'chickens eat'.
“What did she say?” He kneeled to one knee and invited the baby girl to sit on his other leg. “Guess I'm going to have to go to Sheffield's school and learn hand language, too.”
“She said 'chickens eat'. Zeke says she’s so smart, she's already picking up lip-reading. Guess she's getting impatient.”
Earl dug into his overall's bib pocket and pulled out a butterscotch. The child accepted his offer of the seat and the candy with a big grin. And a flurry of finger talk.
“She's very happy about the candy and says you're a very nice man and thank you.”
With a grin, he tasseled the baby's hair. “Anyway, I was only eight, and Jake was nine. I think you were about Harmony's age. Five?”
“If Jake was nine, then yes, I was five; he's four years older than me. But Harmony's only four.”
“Oh.” He smiled. “Anyhow, you were the reason why I came back.”
“Me? You came to church to see me?”
“Yes, ma'am. That's the whole truth of it. I've been in love with you from that first day, but . . . well, so was Jake. Turned out to be my bosom buddy. I loved him.”
“I know. He was easy to love.” She took both his hands into hers. “But he's gone, and here we are. She dipped her head to the side and down far enough to be looking out from under her hat's brim. “I'm mighty proud to know all that.”
“Figured you needed to.”
“I'm glad, but I must admit, I still can't stand the thought of Melody—and now maybe Servilia, too—jumping into something so important just because we've decided to get married.”
“What's this about Vili? She's got a beau?”
“Oh, not really. Zeke has a cousin he claims would be perfect for her and passed along his address with an introduction. That's why I let them go to town today, so they could post her letter to the man.
“Since they'd be so close to the school, of course, Melody begged to stop by and have dinner with him. I told her no, not without a chaperone, but Servilia—totally contrary to her normal self—offered to stay. Seems she had some questions for Zeke about his cousin.”
“Where does this guy live?”
“Chicago. He teaches math at the university there.”
He squeezed her hands ever so gently. “God uses all things . . . Would solve one of our problems.”
Looking into his eyes, she found no guile, only love. “I've thought of that too, but I'm not ready to give my blessing only to make anything easier on us.”
“Given any more thought on where we're to live?”
“I have, but can't seem to decide. Your house is bigger, but I doubt either one of my sisters would be willing to live there.” She laughed. “Before yesterday, I would have never dreamed of leaving them here alone together for fear they’d kill one another, but seems they've forged some sort of truce.”
“Interesting, tell me all about it.”
Before she could, Harmony jumped off his knee and ran toward the barn. She returned with a bucket of grain and pulled on Lucy's hand. She laughed, following after the girl. “Let's finish the chores, then I'll tell you all about it over dinner. If you've got time.”
“Of course, I do. I'll see to weeding the garden.”
Chapter Eight
P
leased Zeke to see his love riding up with her sister in the familiar Parker wagon. What a wonderful surprise to have them for dinner.
He'd resigned himself to the time, but feasting his eyes two days in a row would only make it harder to wait until Saturday to see her again. Hopefully, Lucy would consent to setting a date.
Balancing the tray, he forced himself to concentrate on the task of getting the noon repast to the parlor's table instead of gawking at his beauty. Success, he smiled at Melody then nodded to her sister. Signing, he asked his love to bless the food. They were so cute with their dainty slurping.
“This is wonderful, Reverend.” Servilia set her spoon on the plate that held her soup bowl.”
With his hand, he thanked her.
“Oh.” She repeated the gesture. “So this means? Thank you?”
“It does.” Melody smiled at her sister, and the room grew brighter.
“Well! Isn't that fun? And easy, too. Maybe you can teach me more signs like that.” The older sister turned toward him. “Would you think it being too forward of me to ask your cousin's age? I've been wondering, and . . .”
His thumb and two adjacent fingers went up, then all four fingers with his thumb tucked to his palm. Jessie came in with a cloth-covered basket. “Cornbread, fresh out of the oven.”
“Yum.” She tilted her head to the side a smidgen. “Is that thirty or forty? Or thirty-four?”
“Thirty-four, ma'am.” The young man set the bread on the table then made an 'O' with all his fingers bent over, thumb touching the tip of the index. “This after the three makes it thirty forty.”
Palm flat, facing her lips, she brought it down toward the student-turned-teacher. Appearing all proud of herself, she smiled back then glanced from Zeke to Melody. “I did it. I used the sign language. “I can say thank you now.”
Apparently she'd tossed aside any reservations about the age difference. She cleared her throat. “Uh, are you aware of him ever sitting for a picture? Your cousin . . . uh . . . I know beauty is only skin deep and all, but . . . well—”
Hushed with a finger, he signed to Melody.
“He says Rupert has a strong chin and keen eyes. And that . . . most women find him pleasant looking. Oh, and that his grooming is impeccable.”
“Is there a family resemblance? I mean, does he favor you, sir?”
Again he used his interpreter.
“He shares a grandfather with Rupert, and yes, they've been mistaken for brothers.”
Servilia looked at him to ask her question. “God-fearing?” Then she immediately glanced toward her sister for the answer.
“Yes, ma'am. Methodist. All the Sheffields are Methodists.”
Though Servilia had thought of a dozen questions on the way there, most of them no longer seemed appropriate to be asking Mister Sheffield over dinner. The fourteen years age difference troubled her only slightly as some of the ladies in her clutch had advised her not to even consider anyone in their twenties.
Let them sow their wild oats, so they'd be ready to settle down had been the consensus. She'd always thought the double standard so unfair but had not one bit of interest in doing anything that could tarnish her father's good name.
How could she face him once reunited in Heaven?
Her sister did most of the talking through the rest of dinner and then on the ride home, gushing about what a wonderful man the Lord had sent her. True, except for him stuttering so bad.
Better such an unkind remark not to be given voice. She pondered a nicer way to put it.
Within sight of home, she turned sideways. “Mel, does his stuttering bother you? At all?”
Her sister pressed her lips together, closed her near eye as though contemplating her answer, then grinned. “If I tell you something, will you keep it a secret? Let it be only between us?”
“Oh, dear. I do hate knowing a thing I can't share.”
“Well, he didn't tell me not to say anything, and I'm mad to tell someone! I fear Lucy wouldn't understand, but I'd hate it if he ever thought I betrayed him in any way.”
The house was getting closer. “Well, you have got to tell me now. You can't keep me guessing. I can prom
ise I'll do my best to keep it a secret.”
“Good.” Melody sat tall, her eyes beaming. “Love loosens his lips. When it's just him and me—when we're alone together—he doesn't stutter.”
“Not at all?”
“Yes, exactly. He talks perfectly regular with just me.”
Ah ha! So she'd lied. Her words cut Servilia's heart, hard to believe . . . “When was it?”
“When was what?”
Driving up next to the barn, she whoa-ed the mules and set the brake. “The time you two spent alone!”
“Well, we were never completely alone. Harmony was with us, but apparently that doesn't matter. His words flowed like rainwater off the roof.”
“So, he hasn't done—”
“No! Of course not! He's a man of the cloth!”
“That's what I told Lucy!” She glared. “And there's no reason to raise your voice, Melody Joy!”
“Sorry!” She lowered her volume and sweetened her tone. “But why do you and Lucy keep thinking the worst of him? And of me, for that matter? You're my sisters! Don't you even know me?”
“You're the baby, and . . .” Servilia laughed. “Smooth-talking men—to hear the ladies tell it—have been beguiling young women since the dawn of time.”
To Melody's surprise, peace reigned all the way to that most wonderful of Saturdays' morn. While she dressed, she pondered the past.
Lucy always claimed that jealousy propelled Vili's venom, but Melody didn't see why the middle sister should be jealous of her who had no trouble staying slim. It seemed she could eat a whole hog and not gain an ounce.
Plus Servilia was so smart. Her brain, the way she even thought to think about things sometimes—most the time—amazed Melody. And she was prettier, too.
Though everyone claimed she and her sisters were three peas in the same pod, she had a mirror and could see that the beauty lessened each step down in age. She'd call Lucy outright beautiful!
Oh, how Servilia loved getting on the cotton scale every year and boasting that it rested at exactly the same notch as the one before. Melody hated the thing and steered clear of it.
Vilia had been Papa's favorite for sure, while he hardly took notice of Melody at all.
Was there something she didn't know about?
She took one last look in the mirror—it would have to do—then hurried downstairs.
Whatever the reason, the past few peaceful days had been so pleasant and she wanted to experience more of them. She really had always loved her sister, but having her as a friend was better than seconds on berry cobbler.
Hoping her new bosom bud wouldn't say anything, she joined them, but Servilia grinned extra big the minute Melody slipped into her chair. She took that first and best sip of coffee, then grinned back. “What?”
“Oh, it just seems to me that you're dressed more for Sunday meeting than chopping cotton.”
No animosity in her tone, but still . . . “So, you're telling me that if Rupert Sheffield was coming this fine day, you'd not be wearing your best work dress?”
“You have me there, little sis.” She giggled. “Just now, we were thinking of knocking off early so we could all wash up. Think that might be in order. Maybe break out that new jug of grape juice.”
“Perhaps I should change and save this dress for later? Do you think?”
Lucy turned around and pointed with her spoon. “Can if you want. If you go back up, bring Harmony down with you. If we're quitting early, best we get after it.”
“You're right, I won't take the time to change, but I'll run up and wake up baby girl.”
After her regular daily chores, nothing stood between her and her hoe, so she grabbed it and started her first row on the far side of the field. Once her muscles loosened, she found an easy rhythm.
Visions of the life that lay around the bend danced between the cotton plants. No cottage with white-washed picket fences, but the Simpson home was grand enough.
With all those school boys bunking there, probably wouldn't be much free time for all the cooking—and of course, she'd have all her own babies to tend. Zeke getting his live-in students to keep up the garden and sweep and mop would certainly help.
Oh, how wonderful to have a passel of little Sheffields underfoot. She could hardly wait!
As promised, the man of her dreams arrived half past one. She and her sisters stood on the porch while baby girl ran to meet him as soon as he swung out of the saddle.
Vilia volunteered to put his gelding away, while Lucy ushered the man to the kitchen. Melody hated it that her sisters had out-voted her on using the parlor.
They claimed it'd be too small and that it didn't catch as much breeze. And the kitchen table was bigger. She put that thought away and slipped into the chair next to Zeke.
The eldest poured the juice then set five glasses on the table. “So, Mister Sheffield. Melody tells me that you have proposed.”
First he looked at her, smiling, as though drinking her in, then he nodded and began talking with his fingers. After a few words, Melody interrupted.
“He says yes, indeed. That he was smitten that first day he laid eyes on me.” Her cheeks warmed. “That he loves me, and the Lord has confirmed it that I'm the one.”
Servilia came through the back door. “What did I miss?”
It pleased Melody to repeat what the dearest man on the face of the earth had just said.
“Good. Go on then. I'm all ears.” Servilia grinned then took a sip of her juice.
Lucy hadn't thought the meeting through. She closed one eye and hiked the opposite brow. “How about you two take Harmony outside for a nice swing, so I can talk a moment with Mister Sheffield alone.”
Almost in unison. “Why?”
“Please, ladies. If Papa or Jake were alive, then I'd be out there with you.” She steeled her gaze. “But they aren't, so get!”
Like the good girls they were, the pair minded. Of course, her baby girl had to be pried out of her chair. Once alone, she faced the teacher.
“Have you ever been married before, sir?”
He shook his head.
Her cheeks warmed. “Uh . . . might there be any . . . I'm unsure how to put this . . .any possibility of children?”
Again he shook his head. It appeared his own cheeks warmed some, but he might also have had a hint of a smile. If she was to bless their union though, she had to know about his past. So far, she'd detected neither guile nor deception.
“You said earlier about the Lord confirming it was love, that Melody was the one. How exactly did He do that?”
The man retrieved his pad, wrote a bit then slid it toward her. “Besides the Lord, only love loosens my lips. Growing up, when I was alone with my mother, I didn't stutter. The same is true when I'm alone with Melody.”
How could that be? She reread the note then glared at him. “When were you alone with my sister?”
He took the paper back.
“Never completely. Apparently Harmony doesn't tie my tongue.” He grabbed the pad and added with a big grin, “Guess we share a love, too. You have a very intelligent, wonderful daughter, Mis'ess Harrison.”
She studied on him a minute. He didn't flinch or look away. Why did so many hard decisions have to fall to her?
“What about this trip north your planning? Is it your intention to move back to wherever it is you came from one day?”
“Never. I want to buy a marker for Mother's grave, and go to the jewelry shop where Father bought her a locket. I want a ring and perhaps a memento for Melody if I can find one she likes.”
Though she didn’t envy being in charge, Servilia hated Lucy bossing her and Melody out of the house—especially since hers as well as her little sister's life hung in the balance.
The swing slowed, and her niece made her sign for more, repeatedly opening and wadding her fist. She gave Harmony another shove then faced Melody who leaned against the oak's trunk, staring at the house.
“It isn’t fair, her making us come
out here.”
“Oh, she'll tell us what he said. Wonder what she’s asking him.”
“That isn’t what I’d be concerned about. What are you going to do if she says no?”
“Elope. And if Preacher refuses to marry us, then we'll find ourselves a judge. We are getting married either way.”
“Well, that sounds nothing but rebellious, and rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, you know. Is that what Zeke said?”
“No, I haven’t discussed the possibility with him. That’s all my idea.”
“And you really mean it?”
“She’ll give him her blessing, but if she doesn’t . . .” Her little sister cocked an eyebrow. “What about you?”
“Me? What about me? I don’t have a proposal.”
“But I’m talking about Rupert. What if you two meet in Saint Joseph and he wants you to come to Chicago with him. What will you do then?”
“Heavens grace, girl. He hasn't even written back, much less asked me to wed or even meet him anywhere.”
Her smiled broadened. “He will. I’m sure he will. Zeke says you two are perfect for each other and . . .” The smile and any sign of play disappeared. “I've seen you staring at Ezekiel when you didn't think anyone was looking.”
“Jealous, are you?”
Those big green eyes got greener. “Well . . . you are prettier than me. And smarter, too. And it’s true you never shy away from the cotton scale.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. He’s only had eyes for you from the start. He didn’t even consider Lucy. There’s many a man who prefers a woman with soft edges.” She grinned then nodded toward the house. “Looks like we're being invited back inside.”
Dirty double-crossing Lucy claimed nothing to tell, once she sent the happy couple off with baby girl in tow as a chaperone.
“So?” Servilia handed over the wet plate. “Are you going to bless their union?”
Her older sister took the offering then held it and her dish towel out. “I don't know. I've got to pray about it for sure, but I just don't know. He seems perfect to me, except for the stuttering. But he claims that when it’s only him and her, he can talk perfectly normal. I find that hard to believe, but he says love loosens his lips. He could talk plainly with his mother, too.”
