by Sharon Sala
Effie smiled snidely as she peered into Amelia’s car. She’d seen the girl lay her head on the steering wheel. It served her right. If she stayed inside at night like any decent woman, she wouldn’t be tired. Burning candles at both ends simply used them up faster and left them no place on which to rest.
“Late night again?”
Amelia gritted her teeth and blinked tears. “Actually, no. I just have a headache. I seem to have a lot of them nowadays. I think it’s something in the air.”
She started her car and drove away, leaving Effie to take what she’d said any way she chose. She was past caring about pretense any longer. And there were two people who deserved to know the truth before these rumors reached their ears.
She carried the groceries inside the house and went in search of her aunts. She found them in the living room squabbling over a game show. Ordinarily it would have made her smile. Today, however, she feared that when she was finished, they’d be squabbling over whether or not to throw her out of the house.
When she stepped in front of the television and turned it off, their fuss ceased instantly. Amelia’s pale face and strange behavior got their undivided attention.
Wilhemina was the first to speak. “What’s wrong, dear?”
“Are you ill?” Rosemary asked.
Amelia shook her head, sank down into the chair beside them and burst into tears.
Wilhemina was frightened. In all the years they’d had Amelia, she’d never behaved in such a manner. It had to be Tyler Savage’s fault. “It’s that man! I knew this would come to no good!”
Amelia’s sobs only got louder.
Suddenly, Rosemary took control. She could tell that Willy was only going to assess blame, not what had caused the damage. She scooted into the chair beside Amelia, wrapped her arms around her niece’s shaking shoulders, and patted her lovingly.
“What’s wrong, darling?” she asked. “You can tell us. You can tell us anything. We love you.”
It was the single worst thing they could have said to her. It only added to the guilt with which she’d been living since she’d started her life of deceit. Amelia sniffed loudly, took the handkerchief Aunt Rosie offered and blew.
“It’s all my fault,” she said. “But I didn’t mean for it to go this far, and I never intended to lie to you. I just wanted to earn some extra money for the car.”
Wilhemina and Rosemary stared at each other. She was making no sense.
“Go ahead, dear,” Rosemary said. “We’re listening.”
Amelia started talking. Wilhemina’s face blanched and then turned a deep shade of rose. Rosemary’s eyes widened, her mouth pursed and then a slow smile of delight deepened the wrinkled creases in her cheeks as she absorbed her niece’s story.
“You mean you worked in a drinking establishment and got to wear one of those cute little outfits?”
Wilhemina glared at her sister. Sometimes she completely missed the point at hand.
“It doesn’t matter what she wore,” Wilhemina argued. “We both know Amelia would never do anything to shame herself or us. The point is, someone has made more of this than they should. Someone has obviously embellished upon the fact that Amelia chose to ride back and forth to her job with a woman whose reputation has, shall we say, suffered over the years for lack of guidance. However, that should in no way make Amelia part of the same cut of cloth.”
Amelia threw her arms around her aunts. “I should have known you would understand. And I never actually meant to lie to you. I was going to tell you right off. But I didn’t, and the longer I waited, the harder it became. And I never meant to work there forever. It was only until I’d saved enough for the car.”
Rosemary made a fist with her hands and tucked them daintily into her lap. Backbone straight, eyes gleaming, intrigue flowing from every word, she leaned forward and whispered.
“Did you really make all that money in wages and tips?”
Amelia nodded.
“Well I think that’s just wonderful! Do you think they’d have a place for me?”
“Rosemary!” Wilhemina’s shocked response reverberated throughout the parlor.
“We could use a little extra money.” She glared at her sister, her bottom lip drooping. Then she turned back to Amelia. “Do you think they’d have an outfit in my size?”
Amelia smiled through tears. Love overflowed for the dear little woman who’d not only accepted what she’d done without blinking an eye, but was now ready to try her own hand at it.
“Aunt Rosie, you’d be precious. But don’t you think that the hours are a bit too late for you? After all, it was very late by the time I got home and into bed and you know how you hate to miss your beauty sleep.”
Anticipation faded from Rosemary’s bright blue gaze. Her backbone slumped and she sighed. “You’re probably right. I must have my sleep. It’s vital to a healthy digestion, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Amelia agreed.
“Well!” Wilhemina said. “I can’t say that I’m perfectly pleased with your choice of job, but I can’t see anything wrong with it. After all, if that library board hadn’t been so penurious, you would never have been forced to such measures. And I have a sneaking suspicion that our neighbor across the street has been telling tales. I should give her a piece of my mind!”
“Just let it be, Aunt Witty. It’s all my fault for sneaking out. Surely the rumors will die down soon. At least I hope they do. I don’t think I can stand many more days like today.”
And then to Amelia’s dismay, she started crying all over again. Wilhemina ushered her up the stairs, reassuring her all the way that they were not upset with her.
Rosemary stared as they disappeared into Amelia’s room. She was so furious with that Effie Dettenberg she could hardly think. For two cents she’d…
And then a thought occurred. If Amelia was having trouble with the men in this town, then another man should be the one to fix it. Poppa always said that men should fix what they broke.
She pursed her lips, fluffed her hair, and headed for the kitchen. A ring of keys hung by the bank calendar. With determination in every motion, she slipped them from the peg and headed out the back door.
A twinge of nervousness sparked as she slid the key into the old blue Chrysler’s ignition. It had been a while since she’d driven a car. But, she reminded herself, it’s like anything else. Once you’ve learned a task, you never truly forget it.
The motor fired up with one small pop. She stretched, trying to reach the clutch and realized that Amelia had the seat scooted as far back as it would go. She sighed. It would have to do. She was on a mission and didn’t have time to be adjusting seats.
Jerking and coughing, the car’s engine did its best with the instructions it was receiving. With no small amount of luck, she managed to reverse from the driveway. Unfortunately for the Chrysler’s gears, she then shifted into high instead of low. When she accelerated, the car took off down the street with tires squalling. She made the turn at the corner with a grin on her face and the wind in her hair.
Maurice had started across the street in search of a mouse when the huge machine came barreling toward him. Hair on end, claws digging into the pavement, he made the curb and safety just in time. Even though he was no longer in danger, even though the horrible noise was long gone, he kept running and didn’t stop until he’d reached the small dark space beneath the porch. Eyes wide with fright, whiskers twitching, he hunkered down beside the brick footing and growled his best growl. Just when he needed her, his mistress was nowhere in sight.
Tyler parked the tractor inside the shed and climbed down a dusty and weary man. Cultivating peanuts was a thankless but necessary job. He stretched and then reached for a grease rag and a wrench. It was his habit at the end of each day to service the tractor so that it would be ready for the next day’s work. He’d just begun when he heard the sound.
At first he thought he’d imagined it because there was a brisk breeze blowing. A bucket h
anging against the opposite wall banged intermittently as the wind whipped through the doorway. He shrugged and turned to check the oil when he heard it again. This time he dropped the grease rag and walked outside. Standing quietly, he tilted his head into the wind and listened.
Someone was obviously driving at a high rate of speed. He heard the boards on the bridge across Sumter Creek rattle as the vehicle evidently flew over it. He walked a few steps farther into the sunshine and then staggered from shock as he saw a familiar old blue car top the rise above his farm.
It was Amelia, and she was driving so fast! A little spurt of fear settled in his belly. Something must be wrong! And then he remembered that she had her new car. Why, he wondered, was she back in the old one?
The car skidded sideways, sending dust flying into the wind as it made the sharp turn into his driveway. Frowning, he started toward the house when he noticed that the top of the driver’s head was barely visible above the dashboard of the car. That’s when he recognized the driver and began to run.
“Hello, Tyler Dean. It’s a fine day isn’t it?”
“Miss Rosemary.” It was all he could say as he yanked the door open and told himself not to drag her from the car. “What the hell—excuse my language—are you doing? Has something happened to Amelia? Why didn’t you call? I would have come into town.”
Rosemary brightened perceptibly. She’d known that he’d be the one to help. She hadn’t even said a word and already he was inquiring after Amelia’s welfare.
“I’m so glad that you asked, Tyler Dean. I just didn’t know what else to do, you know. After Amelia started crying and all, why, I…”
He froze. Amelia? Crying? A sharp pain pierced his heart as the thought sank in. He couldn’t bear the idea of Amelia in pain, whether it be physical or mental. He grasped the elderly woman by the shoulders, turned her toward him, barely managing to ask without shouting.
“Why was Amelia crying, Miss Rosemary?”
Her mouth drooped and her eyes glittered angrily. “It was all that Effie Dettenberg’s fault, I just know it. She’s been telling tales on Amelia, you know. Amelia took an extra job to earn money for her car and…”
He sighed. So she’d finally confessed to her aunts. He wished to hell she’d do the same to him. However, he had to admit that their situation was a bit different.
“How do you know someone told?”
Rosemary repeated what Amelia had said.
Tyler grew silent. His face paled and then flushed with anger.
“You mean…she’s been experiencing this everywhere?”
The curls on Rosemary’s head bobbed vehemently as her own indignation continued to rise. “Oh, yes! She said the man who pumps gas asked her if she had a special rate for Saturday nights. The boy at the grocery store pinched her on the—” she blushed and lowered her eyelids “—you know, and people whisper constantly. She’s just devastated.”
His lips tightened and it was all he could do to swallow his rage. He slipped his hand beneath Rosemary Beauchamp’s tiny arm and ushered her toward the house.
“Come with me, Miss Rosemary. I’ve got to change clothes before I take you home.” When she would have argued about that idea, he stalled it with a small white lie. “I don’t think you should drive the car until I check it out. I heard a funny noise as you were turning into the drive.”
He didn’t have it in him to tell her that what he’d heard was the bumper of her car taking down his mailbox. He’d fix that later tonight after he got her home.
Rosemary was all for doing her own thing, but fixing cars wasn’t within the realm of her understanding. “Oh, well then, I’d be pleased. And I’m so glad we had this talk. I’m sure you’ll know just what to do.”
“Yes ma’am,” Tyler said shortly. “I know just what to do.”
In just under thirty minutes he had her back home. He watched with relief as she doddered safely inside the house, then he rolled his eyes and grinned. Now he knew where Amelia had gotten her sense of adventure and independent spirit. At the same time, the thought of Amelia also reminded him what else was at hand. He drove down to Main Street with a fire in his eyes that was very reminiscent of his younger days.
Rosemary burst into the kitchen as a puff of wind lifted her skirt. “Did you hear?”
“Shut the door, Rosemary. It’s windy,” Wilhemina complained. “And did I hear what? Do hurry and sit down. You took an awfully long walk. We’ve been waiting breakfast for you.”
Amelia looked up from her orange juice and stared. There was a gleam in Rosemary’s eyes she couldn’t ever remember seeing.
Rosemary sighed and took her seat. “If you don’t want to hear about the fight, then I guess I’ll…”
“What fight?” Amelia and Wilhemina echoed simultaneously.
Rosemary smiled and leaned back in her chair. She had the floor and fully intended to do the story justice.
“Well, yesterday it seems that Tyler Savage drove up to the gas station, crawled out of his pickup truck and punched Henry Butcher in the nose. They say…” she paused for effect “…that he whispered something in Henry’s ear and then left him bleeding all over the concrete. They also say that Henry just stood there and took it, like he knew he had it coming, you know.”
Wilhemina frowned. She didn’t approve of fighting.
Amelia’s heart thumped. Something told her there was more to this story than Rosemary was letting on. “What else did they say, Aunt Rosie?”
Rosemary beamed. “Then, they said he drove up to the grocery store, walked into the back and cornered that young boy who always carries out groceries—you know— I think it’s Jewel and T-Bone Armitage’s oldest boy.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, they said that he threatened the boy within an inch of his life and left him throwing up from nothing more than pure panic. He didn’t lay a finger on him. Just talked, you understand.”
Amelia could almost guess the rest of the story. Something told her that Tyler had gotten wind of what had been happening to her. She also knew that the aunts had a terrible row last night just after Rosemary had come home. She’d been in her room, but she’d heard enough to know that Rosemary had actually taken the car and driven it out of town. Still sick at heart about her own misfortunes, she’d fallen asleep before she learned how Rosemary had gotten home. This morning, she’d looked outside and seen that her Chrysler was still missing. After what Rosemary just said, Amelia suspected that she must have caught a ride with a savage named Tyler.
Wilhemina frowned. “I must say, I don’t hold with all that violence. Still…” She looked at Amelia strangely. “I wonder what set him off like that?”
Amelia blushed.
Rosemary looked down at her plate. “Are we having pancakes?” She’d delivered her news, she was ready to eat.
Wilhemina sighed. Knowing her sister, that was all the sense that would come out of her for the day. “Yes, Sister. We’re having pancakes. And you didn’t wash up after you came in, did you?”
“Why, no! I don’t believe I did. I’ll be right back. Save the first stack for Amelia. She won’t want to be late for work.” She left the room in a flurry.
Amelia ducked her head and stared at her plate. She could hardly face the idea of going back to the library and dealing with people who talked behind her back.
Wilhemina saw her niece’s nervousness. She pursed her lips and leaned forward. “You don’t give them an inch, do you hear me, Amelia Ann! Let them talk. We know the truth.”
Amelia blinked and tried not to cry. She’d sworn to herself that she’d cried enough on the subject. “Yes, ma’am, I hear you. And I won’t cry. Not anymore.”
“Good!” Wilhemina said. “Now, come help me fix the pancakes or you’ll be late. We don’t want anyone to think you’re hiding, do we?”
Amelia stopped and then stared, as if seeing her aunt in a different light. “No, ma’am. I wouldn’t hide. Beauchamp women don’t hide, do they?”
The old woman paused,
pancake turner in hand, and then looked back at her niece. “I don’t know about that, my dear. If we hadn’t hidden from the truth that times change and life goes on, you wouldn’t have been driven to deceit, would you?”
There was nothing to else to say. Wilhemina went about the business of pancakes while Amelia considered what they’d just shared. For one brief moment, she almost smiled. Something told her that this was only the beginning. She could hardly absorb the meaning, but it would seem that Tyler had fought for her. It was something straight out of one of her romance books, and it had actually happened right here in Tulip!
Tyler’s reputation had hit an all-time high. It was all over town that he’d actually fought for Amelia Beauchamp, that he’d taken the gossip floating around Tulip about her as an actual insult and decided to rectify the situation. Needless to say, the gossip ceased almost instantly.
Effie Dettenberg was just the least bit nervous that Tyler would actually appear on her doorstep and do something equally dastardly. And, her conscience was troubling her about what she’d caused, but righteous indignation kept her from admitting it. The way she looked at it, if you ate the spice, you paid the price. It was only fitting.
Amelia’s reputation had also taken on a new twist. In a small way, she’d actually become Tulip’s latest femme fatale. It was unbelievable what gossip could do to a woman’s life.
Tyler took a last look at himself in the rearview mirror of his pickup truck before he got out. He was as ready as he’d ever be to face his future, and that’s what he’d come to consider the three Beauchamp women. He’d already admitted to himself that he didn’t want to face a life without Amelia, and she came with two ready-made chaperones. That was fine with him. He’d take Amelia Ann any way he could get her. With a determined jut to his chin, he pulled up in front of the old two-story home and parked, then grabbed the bouquet of flowers he’d just purchased at the local flower shop. When he reached the front door, he knocked twice and waited.
Wilhemina answered. For one long moment they stared into each other’s eyes. Judging. Measuring. Tyler was the first to speak.
