Wild Dream

by Duncan, Alice

  “Are you all right, Addie?” he asked quietly.

  “All right? I’ve never been so all right in my whole life, Charley.”

  “I’m glad.”

  With a little giggle, she said, “But I reckon I still have to milk poor old Betsy.”

  Charley sighed deeply when she rolled off him. He felt as though he’d lost something precious when the soft breeze cooled his sweaty tummy where she’d lain.

  Addie washed herself off in the creek and dried herself with her apron. She hummed “Wood Up Quick Step” as she pulled on her stockings. Charley listened with a catching in his chest. Well, he guessed she’d swooned, all right. So much so that he now felt like the lowest, slimiest beast in nature. Sitting up, he too decided he’d best bathe before he put his clothes back on.

  “You can dry off with my apron, Charley.”

  “Thank you, Addie.”

  And that was another thing to kick himself about, too. She was so blasted nice. If she’d just been a desirable woman, his actions would be bad enough; but Adelaide Blewitt was the nicest, kindest female he’d ever met, and that made his seduction of her more than merely base. It was vile.

  Well, criminy. Grimly, Charley decided that if he was already a scoundrel, he might just as well make the most of it. Bitterness coiled like a venomous viper in his guts as he made his decision. Damn it, he was going to do one thing right if he never did another: He was going to take care of his men.

  “So, Miss Adelaide,” he said as he dried himself with her apron—her apron, for Pete’s sake; he couldn’t even bathe without her!—”I’d be interested in seeing those rubies of yours. Do you keep ‘em in the house?”

  He hated himself. He absolutely, positively hated himself. For the first time in his life he wondered if there really was a God.

  “The rubies?”

  Addie peered at him, her hands coming to rest on the tie of her camisole, giving Charley a too-enticing look at her delicious breasts. His hands itched to close over them and tease them into awareness again. He looked away quickly.

  “Er, yes. I just wondered if I could take a look at them sometime. I’ve—er—never seen precious gems like that before.”

  Her laughter tinkled out of her pretty mouth, decorating the already beautiful spring day. “Well, I don’t reckon you can see any now, either, but I’d be happy to show ‘em to you any old time.”

  Charley swallowed and had a depressing feeling that his blasphemous question about the existence of God was about to be answered. “What? I don’t understand, Addie.”

  She flapped her hand at him as though he were the old silly she was always telling him he was. “Why, Lordy, Charley, Papa sold those old things before we left Georgia and had paste ones made up. I can show you what they looked like, but I can’t show you them.”

  Lowering his head to hide the wash of acrid cynicism he knew radiated from his expression, Charley allowed as to how he was right. His question had been answered, all right. There was no God. Must have died in the war along with everything else he’d ever cared about. A sour feeling settled in his stomach.

  Addie, oblivious to Charley’s misery, chattered on. “Those old rubies did right well by us, too, by gum. Why, we never had to live in one of those old soddies they build around here, ‘cause Papa could buy enough lumber for a house right off. I reckon our old house isn’t much by your Georgia standards, and I have to admit it’s fallin’ apart here and there, but it’s pretty nice for out here.”

  “You have a very nice house, Addie,” Charley mumbled. It was the least he could do.

  Out of curiosity—he’d tried so damned hard to find those fake gems—he asked, “Where do you keep them, Addie? Aren’t you worried about thieves? Maybe a criminal wouldn’t realize they were paste.” And if anybody should know that, he should.

  “You know, I used to tell Aunt Ivy that very same thing, Charley. We finally came up with a fine hiding place for them, too.”

  “You did?”

  “Yup, we sure did.”

  “And where might that be?”

  “Why, right inside the flower pot where we plant the geraniums every spring. On the porch. I stuck ‘em in a leather pouch and then in a metal box and wrapped ‘em up real good, so the dirt can’t get at ‘em.” Addie shrugged negligently. “It’s probably silly, ‘cause they aren’t worth much, but you know how people can be. They see something pretty, they want it. Besides, it’s nice to know we’ve got something from our past. I reckon the Blewitts were something in Georgia, all right.”

  “Right.”

  Charley watched her unhappily while he tucked in his shirt and buttoned his fly. This little Blewitt was something right here and now, he thought.

  But, oh, sweet heaven.

  He’d ruined her, and all because he’d stayed here, where he knew he had no right to stay, when he knew he was too weak to resist her. And now he wasn’t even going to get any rubies for it. And he’d promised the boys.

  Aw, hell.

  Addie rinsed out the milk bucket and braided her hair. “I can’t find my hairpins,” she told him with a giggle, and Charley felt guilty about that, too. Well, at least he could buy her more hairpins. For all the good that would do. Sweet heaven, he was a miserable excuse for a human being.

  “Let me help you milk the cow, Addie.” It wasn’t much, but it was about the only recompense he could think to offer at the moment.

  “Well, I expect I can milk Elizabeth by myself, Charley. I’ve been doin’ it for years now. But if you insist, I guess I won’t refuse your company.”

  Charley felt very humble when he said, “Thank you.”

  Addie’s heart sang as she tied her shoes. Oh, my goodness, loving Charley was wonderful. She’d had no idea how wonderful it would be.

  “Miss Adelaide!”

  Addie’s head jerked up at the Reverend Mr. Thaddeus Topping’s shocked exclamation. The minister stood at the edge of the grassy ribbon edging the creek. His eyes looked enormous beneath his spectacles, which glittered like mica chips in the afternoon sun. His brows arched over them like a startled crow’s wings. Addie gave him a big, welcoming smile.

  “Why, hello there, Mr. Topping. How are you today?”

  Charley, she noticed, stood up as though somebody had goosed him and looked more ill at ease than she’d ever seen him. He shifted his shoulders nervously and ran his fingers through his hair.

  Addie arose in a leisurely fashion and held a hand out to Charley, who took it reluctantly. “Mr. Topping, it’s my great pleasure to introduce you to Mr. Charley Wilde. Mr. Wilde and his wonderful brass band are stayin’ in the Rothwell area for a while.”

  “So I’ve heard. How do you do, Mr. Wilde.” The preacher gave Charley a disapproving frown.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Charley mumbled.

  Addie eyed the minister slyly. “Now, just why are you lookin’ at us that way, Mr. Topping? Could it be you think we’ve been doin’ something improper?” She gave Charley a wink. He blinked back at her, obviously surprised.

  Mr. Topping cleared his throat uneasily. “Well, now, Miss Addie, I don’t suppose it’s my place to accuse anybody of anything.”

  “Well, I just guess you’re right there, Mr. Topping,” Addie said with a pert toss of her head.

  Mr. Topping’s frown gained momentum. “However, as a man of God, I feel I must warn you about the many perils visited upon innocents who stray from the straight and narrow path, Miss Adelaide.”

  He shot Charley the most condemning frown in his repertoire. As he was an easy-going sort of fellow and not inclined to browbeat his flock, his expression wasn’t too black. It did, however, make Charley tuck in his chin, stare at the ground, and look mighty dejected.

  “And I don’t reckon a stranger to our fellowship should do any marauding in the untainted pastures hereabouts. Not unless his intentions are honorable.” Mr. Topping made his little speech to Charley, who muttered something unintelligible in the direction of his boots.

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nbsp; Addie’s giggle tripped from her tongue and blessed the afternoon with light and happiness. Charley looked up, amazed.

  “Why, how you talk, Reverend! I declare, I’m purely appalled that a man of the cloth should think such unseemly thoughts about one of his own flock and a visiting musician. Especially one who can play ‘Amazin’ Grace’ the way Charley here can.”

  Mr. Topping blushed and cleared his throat. “I certainly didn’t mean to imply anything untoward, Miss Addie.”

  Addie took his arm and gave him a smile that would melt a heart of ice. “Of course, you didn’t, Mr. Topping. Why, you’re too kind-hearted to think evil of anybody.”

  “Thank you, Miss Addie,” the minister said. He sounded meek.

  Addie swung her milk bucket as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Which, at the moment, she didn’t. “Well, I just think it’s the truth, Mr. Topping. I even told Charley just the other day what wonderful sermons you preach. Didn’t I, Charley?”

  “Er, why, yes. Yes, you did, Miss Adelaide. You surely did.”

  “See? But Charley wasn’t feelin’ too well on Sunday. You know, those awful robbers shot him only a few days before.”

  “Yes,” the minister said more boldly. “Yes, I heard about that.” When he looked at Charley, it was with an expression that begged forgiveness. “That was a truly unfortunate circumstance to befall you, Mr. Wilde; a poor introduction to our fine community.”

  “Well, I reckon I’m better now.”

  “Oh, he’s much better now,” Addie said with meaning. She winked at Charley, who stumbled over a cactus.

  The minister cleared his throat again. “Er, well, perhaps it would not be considered bold if I were to announce the purpose of my visit today.”

  Queen Elizabeth stood in the meadow where Addie and Charley had left her. She still chewed her cud complacently, and she smiled at Addie for the second time today. Addie opened the gate and allowed the two men to enter the pasture before her.

  “Why, I don’t think that would be bold at all, Mr. Topping.”

  Addie smiled when she saw Charley staring back at the swath of green beside the ambling brook. He looked quite nostalgic.

  Chapter 14

  Queen Elizabeth seemed happy to have visitors to her pasture. Charley could have sworn the cow smiled at Addie, even though he knew such a thing to be impossible. Then again, as he watched Addie charm the preacher, he guessed maybe it wasn’t impossible after all. If anybody could make a cow smile, it would be Addie Blewitt. He wished they still lay on the soft new grass, entwined in each other’s arms, the cares of the world forgotten.

  What a despicable louse he was.

  “It’s nice of you to pay us a call today, Mr. Topping.” Addie broke into Charley’s train of thought, and he turned to see her resume her position on the milking stump. Betsy ambled over to join her. This time Charley knew the cow smiled.

  No. That was crazy. All this worrying about his men and dreaming about Addie must be warping his mental faculties.

  “Well, the purpose of my visit today actually has to do with Mr. Wilde,” Mr. Topping said.

  “Me?” Charley jerked his head up and hoped to flinders the preacher wasn’t going to accuse him of something. Shoot, he had plenty on his conscience already without other people adding to it.

  “Yes.” The minister cleared his throat nervously. “Er, you see, it has come to my attention that you and your fine band of musicians plan to entertain the citizens of Rothwell at the annual Spring Fiesta to be held on the grounds of the Catholic church the second week in May.”

  “Yes. Yes, we said we’d play for the Fiesta,” said Charley guardedly. He couldn’t imagine what could be wrong about playing at the Fiesta, but he knew better than to take anything for granted.

  “I think that’s a very fine thing to do, Mr. Wilde. Especially as Father Bernardo tells me you declined his offer of payment.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, during which he considered how declining payment could be held against him, Charley said, “I believe we did say something like that, yes.”

  Mr. Topping smiled broadly. “That’s a fine, Christian thing to do, Mr. Wilde.”

  “It is?”

  “It is, indeed. However—” Mr. Topping stopped smiling and Charley braced himself. “—I am not altogether happy about the Catholics being given preferential treatment in Rothwell.”

  Since Charley didn’t have any idea what Mr. Topping was talking about, he didn’t speak.

  Addie, however, had no such scruples. “What do you mean by that, Mr. Topping? Charley wouldn’t prefer a Catholic over a Methodist.” She swiveled on her milking stump to peer up at Charley. “Would you, Charley?”

  “No, ma’am. Not at all.”

  Mr. Topping’s furrowed brow cleared. “I’m very happy to hear you say so, Mr. Wilde. For a while, I wondered if you might be a Roman Catholic underneath.”

  Charley stopped himself from asking, “Underneath what.” The Reverend Mr. Topping didn’t look as though he were joshing about this. “No, sir. I’m not a Catholic. Not at all. Never have been.”

  “I’m certainly glad to hear it, Mr. Wilde.” Mr. Topping’s cherubic cheeks turned bright pink. “Not, of course, that I have anything against our Catholic brethren, you understand.”

  “Of course not.”

  Charley heard a stifled giggle from the milking stump and found himself suppressing a grin of his own. “Actually, my ma and pa always took my sister and me to the Baptist church in America City. Some of my best friends were Methodists, though.”

  The choking sound he heard from the stump prompted a little smile from him, although he tried to hide it.

  Mr. Topping’s brow beetled. “Well, now, sir, I find your observation a very interesting one. Very interesting indeed. Although I’ve belonged to the Southern Methodist-Episcopal Church all my life and, therefore, prefer the Methodist ways over those of our Baptist brethren, I consider your attitude to be most open-minded. Yes indeed, sir. Most open-minded.”

  Charley uttered a modest, “Thank you very much,” and jumped a in surprise when Addie gave him a playful little pinch on his rear end. He was glad Mr. Topping didn’t see her gesture; he would certainly have been shocked.

  The preacher only heaved a satisfied sigh. “Well, good, then. We all understand each other.”

  Charley only wished that were so. “Right.”

  “So, then, Mr. Wilde, perhaps it will not be entirely unwelcome if we Methodist-Episcopals were to ask if you and your band would be willing to play for our Rothwell and Arleta Joint Methodist-Episcopal Ladies’ Charity Fair and Bake Sale. The Charity Fair will be held the Saturday after next.”

  Mr. Topping folded his hands in front of him and smiled benevolently. His cheeks shone like polished apples. Charley was charmed.

  Then he remembered what he had to fear from Arleta—and from whom—and his charm turned to terror. He shot a look at Addie, his heart racing.

  “Don’t you have an aunt in Arleta, Miss Addie?”

  “Aunt Pansy? I sure do.”

  His mind racing, Charley stuttered, “Er—well—it must be nice to see her at these shindigs.”

  “Aunt Pansy doesn’t generally come to the Charity Fair, Charley.” She frowned into her milk bucket. “I’m afraid Aunt Pansy isn’t very charitable.”

  Thank God. Charley’s terror left him so fast, he felt almost light-headed with relief. He smiled at the preacher, his confidence returning.

  “Well, now, Mr. Topping, I can’t really speak for the band, although I wager they’ll be happy to participate. They’ll do most anything that allows them to play their music. I expect them here this afternoon for a rehearsal. I’ll be happy to ask them then.”

  “Oh, my goodness, Charley! It would be a wonderful opportunity for us!”

  “It would?”

  Addie jumped up from her stump, causing Betsy to frown. Charley stared hard at the cow, wondering if his brain truly was going.

  �
��Oh, yes!”

  Addie grabbed him by his arm, squeezing it tight. He hesitated to ask why it would be so wonderful, but it didn’t matter. As he’d so often noted before, Addie didn’t need a partner in order to converse. She charged ahead on her own.

  “Oh, yes, just think. You and your band can play all your beautiful music, and then we can announce our engagement!”

  Her smile nearly knocked Charley on his butt. Or maybe it was her words. He found himself unable to speak once more.

  “Why, this is wonderful news, Miss Adelaide and Mr. Wilde,” Mr. Topping declared. “I’m so happy to hear of it. I’ve long been an advocate of the married state.”

  “I—I—” Charley swallowed hard and guessed he’d better not try to talk.

  “Oh, yes! It’s ever so exciting. And I’m real happy Charley’ll be playin’ at the Methodist-Episcopal Ladies’ Charity Fair and Bake Sale, ‘cause then we can announce it at a Methodist event instead of a Catholic one.” She gave the minister a judicious look. “It’s ‘cause, even though Charley here’s a Baptist, Aunt Ivy and I are Methodists, you see.”

  “Of course.” Mr. Topping nodded and looked every bit as sagacious as Addie.

  Their engagement. Charley went stiff all over and offered up a silent prayer for guidance. When he remembered there was no God, he almost cried.

  “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Wilde,” Mr. Topping said. He pumped Charley’s hand energetically. Charley forced himself to look pleased.

  Addie had finished her milking chores by this time, so she picked up her milk bucket and gave Elizabeth a friendly pat.

  “Bye-bye, Betsy.”

  Charley could have sworn the cow winked good-bye.

  He carried the milk bucket back to the house for Addie, thinking it was the least he could do. The very least.

  Oh, sweet heaven. She wanted to marry him.

  Gloomily, Charley wondered why it came as such a surprise to him. What else would a girl like Addie expect of a man who had shamelessly seduced her?

  But, oh, dear.