“I didn’t know anyone took a form,” he said, sounding as though I’d caught him off guard. “Well, that’s fine. Uh, Elizabeth, do you have something she can wear tomorrow?”
Lizzy nodded. “Yes, I have the perfect outfit.”
“Okay, good. I guess I need to get your address so I can pick you up in the morning.”
“I’ll do it, Dad.” Lizzy gestured for him to continue sitting as she wrote down Mag’s address. He shrugged and watched his daughter do his job. “Okay, like I said. Be ready to go at about 5:30. I’ll have your dress; you can change when you get there.”
I nodded at her and Mr. Peet before turning to leave.
“Are you okay?” asked Lizzy before I got out of the room.
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”
The next morning another small cold front had moved in, bringing the temperature down to a chilly Texas thirty-five degrees. There was a slight chance for snow over the next few days, but nothing that was going to stick, and not the five inches New York had gotten the previous day. I had only been in Texas a few weeks, but could tell that people seemed to move slower during the colder days, like their feet were frozen in place. They just weren’t used to it like I was, but I was dreading the hundred-plus degree summer that I had heard so much about, if I chose to stay around.
My grapefruit and cereal bowl were about empty when I looked at my watch. It was 5:35 a.m. They were running late. I made breakfast myself, knowing that Mags was not a morning person. Hopefully, I would be out the door before she even stammered out of bed.
The doorbell startled me when I heard it, but I jumped from the barstool and opened the door to the awaiting Lizzy. The girl looked completely different. Her hair was up in some sort of netting, her glasses replaced with contacts, pretty white lace that draped her head didn’t show off too much or too little. The green dress was form-fitted to her upper half, showing off a shapely figure that you would’ve never guessed she had when seeing her in the lunchroom. It billowed at the waist, only stopping just an inch or two before the concrete walkway. She was historically beautiful.
“Hello,” I sputtered in astonishment.
“Hey, are you ready?”
“Yeah, just let me get my purse.” I turned around to head to the countertop where my belongings sat waiting. Grabbing the purse, I saw Mags make her way into the kitchen from the hallway. She yawned and gave me an “it’s-way-too-early-in-the-morning” look before she caught glimpse of the southern belle standing in the doorway.
“Oh,” she said startled.
“My ride is here. I was just leaving,” I said and headed towards Lizzy.
“Wait, wait, just a moment,” she said as she followed me towards the door. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need some money?”
“No.”
“Who is driving you?”
“I am.”
We turned and looked at Mr. Peet in the doorway. But this was a completely different person that I had grown accustomed to in the classroom. He was wearing an old brown felt hat with a wide brim that encircled his head. You could tell that he hadn’t shaved as the stubble was well past a five o’clock shadow. He was wrapped in a long gray coat that went down just past his waist; gold buttons were centered down the middle. The length of his jacket and the height of his boots, which were a deep black leather that came just below the knee, gave little sight of his wool pants that were a dingy light blue color, much like the Texas sky. He stood aloof with no sense of emotion as he looked into Mag’s little home.
Mag’s wrapped her arms around her waist; her lips shrank into a thin line. She was just waking up and didn’t even think of changing out of her Hello Kitty pajamas for company, but there was no time to run and hide now. Mr. Peet must have sensed her embarrassment as he ducked his head under his wide brim to break the eye contact.
“I’m sorry to be barging in like this. I just wanted to meet Miss Kilpatrick’s parent before she took off with a stranger.” He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “I’m Mr. Peet, but you can call me Robert.”
Mags couldn’t help but return his handshake, a small smile traced back into her face as if she might as well try to enjoy the intrusion since there was nothing she could do about it. “I’m not her parent.” Of course Mags’ first words to my teacher would be to disavow any sort of close relationship with me. “I’m Margaret, but Hope here calls me Mags. I’m her aunt.”
“Well, why on earth would she want to do that? Margaret is such a lovely name.”
Mags smiled bigger this time, allowing the complement to ease her a bit. “Oh, well, thank you.”
“You must be very proud of her. She is quite a student.”
“Yes, as long as she isn’t in ISS anymore,” she scowled at me.
“Well, we all have bad days, Margaret.” He looked over at me as well. Jeez, did everyone have to team up against me this week? “But today is not one of them. Ladies, shall we head to the parade?”
“Yes,” we both agreed and headed towards the door. I looked back to see Mags and Mr. Peet still continuing their conversation.
“And Margaret, would you like to join us?”
Mags looked away from him and laughed, her face reddening. “Me? No, thank you. I wouldn’t be caught dead in something like that.” She motioned to Lizzy. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Very well, then, perhaps another time.” They smiled again and their gaze was unbroken. Slowly, all three of us made our way to the door, followed by Mags who stood watching us load into Mr. Peet’s SUV.
“Y’all be careful,” she yelled, as we were just about to shut the doors, Lizzy pulling her hoop in around her. Mr. Peet let out a sigh as he buckled his seat belt, Lizzy and I being in the second seat. He pulled away from the curb and made his way towards I-30. It would be a direct shot to Ft. Worth from there.
“I brought this for you.” Lizzy leaned over the seat and pulled up a gorgeous sky-blue dress. “I’m pretty sure it will fit, but we can tweak it if we need to.” I nodded, not knowing what to say. I was going to march in the world famous Stock Show Parade with a bunch of Confederate soldiers and southern belles. Were there any words that I could say?
“Thank you for letting me do this with you.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem. I enjoy having someone my age to talk to. It’s better than hearing the history of the Civil War over and over again from the guys.”
“Were you referring to me, honey?” We could see him smiling at us in the rearview mirror.
“Just a little, Dad.” Lizzy leaned forward. “So what kind of extra credit are you going to give Hope for doing this?”
“Oh, probably ten extra points on her first test, and an extra hundred for putting up with you all day.” There he was, the Mr. Peet that I recognized from my classroom, throwing out a quick-witted comment even at his own daughter.
We wound around downtown DFW, passing the big sparkly ball that made up Dallas’ skyline. There was very little traffic, being so early on a cold Saturday morning. Lizzy and I both yawned a few times as we continued on our journey. Mr. Peet silently drove, listening to our little conversations while sipping on some coffee. Ft. Worth was a good thirty-five minutes away, as Texans seemed to measure all distance by time, but it went by quickly. We passed the baseball and football stadiums, Six Flags and Hurricane Harbor all within five minutes of each other in Arlington, the suburb of both cities, which was quickly becoming a metropolis in its own right, or so I was told.
Mr. Peet eased off the interstate and bounced through a few construction zones in the Ft. Worth area before coming to a stop in the large parking lot next to the commuter rail station. This was where those in the parade lined up and waited their turn to walk the downtown streets. Bands lined up in front of horse organizations, and cowboys lined up down the line from wooden wagons pulled by longhorn teams. There were no motorized vehicles allowed, being the largest parade
in the country without them. Hearing that the route was about two miles long, I began to wonder if they would allow me at least a Segway to use.
“What’s wrong, Yankee?” Mr. Peet smirked as we got out of the car, popping open the trunk compartment in the back of the vehicle, “Don’t y’all walk everywhere in New York?”
“Well, we have these things called taxis, buses, and especially subways. Or as you rebels might call them, ‘those underground train thingys,’” I returned his derision.
“Touché! Here, take this.” He pulled a long wooden rifle out of the back and placed it in my hands. It was heavy and I didn’t know what to do with it, but stared at Lizzy, who took it from me.
“Dad, quit being a jerk,” she scolded to his laughter and my embarrassment.
“My bad. I meant to give her this dress.” He carefully pulled it out and laid it across my hands. The fabric was heavy, being weighed down by the round hoops at the bottom. Again, I looked at Lizzy for the answers.
“Come on. We can change you over here. We will be a few minutes, Dad.”
“All right, honey. I’ll be down here grouping everyone together.”
We walked across the parking lot until we entered some public restrooms at its far side. I was hoping for something a little more private, and clean, but I wasn’t going to complain. Besides, I had seen worse in New York. She escorted me over to the handicapped stall and gave a push on the door to make sure it was empty. “You’ll have plenty of room in here. Just don’t drop anything in toilet. Oh, and I brought this little bag for you to put the clothes in that you’re wearing. I’ll be out here. Just let me know when you’re through and I’ll help button up the back.” Those were quick orders, but I nodded and entered into the large cubicle. I don’t think I had ever dressed in a bathroom stall before and felt lucky I’d gotten an oversized one with rails. Really, I was never one for trying on clothes with Mom back when we went shopping; it just felt so creepy to undress in a public location, even with a lock on the door. As quickly as I could, I flung the dress over my head and let it settle around me. Its weight allowed me to just give a twist and turn before the hoop billowed out from my waist, just as Lizzy’s did on her frame. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to slide off while I walked along the parade. Boy, would that give some poor pioneer a fright. Then I slid on a thick layer of pantaloons, basically 1860s underwear, over my own. I kept my own shoes on, even though Lizzy had a pair of ugly black leather ones. I figured Reebok would do a lot in helping me cover the two miles. Slowly sliding the latch back, I made my way out to Lizzy for her approval.
“Now you look beautiful,” she gleamed. I smiled but didn’t respond on how I really felt, hoisting up my front with my hands to try and hide as much cleavage as possible.
“Is it really supposed to be this low? I just feel so exposed.” I asked, pulling at the frilly linens on my shoulder that wouldn’t stay on.
“It’s an off-the-shoulder cut. I thought it would look great on you and I was right.” Lizzy was amused with herself, flowing around me in her own hoop skirt. After buttoning the back, she reached for my hair and pulled it up on top of my head. “Here, hold this there. Good.” Meticulously she wrapped my head in the same type of cotton netting that encircled her own, each matching our dresses. “There. That is perfect. Scarlet O’Hara would hate you.”
We looked at ourselves in the mirror for a moment and I couldn’t help but smile. Somehow I had transformed into someone that I didn’t recognize, someone that wasn’t me just a few moments before. “Oh, I almost forgot. Take this wrap to shield yourself from the wind. Are you warm enough? We can sit in the car with the heater on if you want to.”
“I’m fine,” I responded, gladly taking the wrap and placing it over my exposed shoulders, not because I was that cold, as the temperature was already pushing into the forties with the sun cutting through the eastern sky, but because I wanted to cover as much of my bare skin as possible. How did women wear this back in the Victorian era? It was beautiful, but didn’t they feel exposed? I took a deep breath, maybe out of panic, apprehension, or just to see if anything was going to fall out anywhere as we headed for the door and back out into the assemblage of the parade.
We made our way past the cars that now began to fill the parking lot, with more entering every moment. Continuing past a chain link fence, Lizzy spotted her dad intermingling with others that were dressed in Civil War clothing. From afar, the group looked motley. Not one man matched the other. Hats, jackets, even pants were an assortment of mixed grays, tans, browns, and even blues. Even their facial hair seemed to be cut in different shapes and sizes as to match their non-uniformity. The South had not only lost the war, but they lost in color coordination, too. The only thing that matched from man to man was that they didn’t match at all. Mr. Peet spotted us coming towards the crowd.
“Gentlemen, may I introduce my daughter, Elizabeth.” He held out his hand and she graciously accepted it, sauntering in front of a fake army, getting a few compliments and whistles from the men. I immediately disappeared behind a car, not wanting to be seen by anyone, especially this rag-tag army of rebels.
“And behind me is–”
I heard Lizzy stop and before I knew it she was grabbing my arm. “What are you doing?”
“They’re going to see me...in this!”
“Yeah, so? They see a lot of women in that.”
“It’s just...not me.”
“Oh, quit being so modest. You’re a doll. And you won’t ever meet a group of nicer men.” She quickly yanked the shawl from around my shoulders and before I could protest gave me a push from behind the car. “And this here is Hope!” she announced. You could’ve heard a pin drop. The rambunctious cluster of assorted confederates fell silent upon seeing me. I closed my eyes and ducked my head for a moment. Taking a deep gulp, I stepped forward with the help of a little jostling from Lizzy. She was going to introduce me to these men, these weekend warriors, whether I liked it or not.
“Hello,” I finally mustered waving a hand. A few hats were dipped towards me but no one said a word. God, did I really look that bad? It was if I had a third eye that was protruding from my forehead, and had that eye come with a pair of street clothes, I would’ve gladly accepted it.
“Miss Kilpatrick, you are...you look very lovely,” Mr. Peet finally said, cutting the silence. I knew he just had to be being nice. I was his student and he couldn’t say that I was as dog-ugly as I felt.
Lizzy pushed me passed her dad and a few hands were extended from the men as we walked down the line. It felt awkward shaking their hands, like I was the Queen of England or something. It wasn’t till we were nearly at the other end of the group when someone finally yelled, “Mercy!” All at once, every other man answered with a, “Lord, Have Mercy!” The floodgates opened. The men began to laugh, shout, clap their hands, even Mr. Peet grinned through his facial hair. Were we actually a hit with these miscreants?
“See, I told you they would like you!” Lizzy said beside me.
“Thanks, but can I have my wrap back now?” She smiled and tossed it to me and I immediately covered my shoulders again.
The jovial crowd began to form into two lines, one in front of the other, as we sat there and watched. Mr. Peet was out in front, a canteen and satchel of some sort riding on his back left hip, held down by a large black belt that carried a revolver on one side and a sword on the other.
“Why is your dad out front like that?” I whispered to Lizzy.
“Oh, he’s the captain,” she replied.
“The captain? Like he gives the orders and they all follow them?”
“Yeah, that’s what captains usually do, silly.” It just felt strange to see the sardonic Mr. Peet leading others, even if it was a fake army. He didn’t seem the type, hardly being able to get the students at school to take in any bit of his history lessons during class. How was he supposed to lead these guys who looked like they hadn’t taken an order or a ba
th in some time?
“What happened to that gun he handed me earlier?”
“Oh, he brought that for Jason,” Lizzy explained, glancing down the lines for the person in question. “But I don’t see him anywhere.”
Just then, a large roar boomed across the parking lot as a hard-driven motorcycle cut into an open space. Its rider, dressed in a gray jacket and black pants, slammed his kickstand into position before leaning the bike to one side. He slowly slid his black helmet from over his head and gave a piercing glare at the group standing in front of him. My heart skipped a beat as he stepped down from the bike and slid an old black hat onto his head, a canteen over his shoulder and a belt around his waist. His facial features were masculine, not covered up by hair like the rest of the group, but with a straight-lined chin and darting blue eyes that seemed to try and capture everything in his path before he reached it. His stride was broken with a slight limp to the right side. He was everything that every mother had warned her daughters about, probably even back in 1861, making Brad look like a lumbering schoolboy. Stopping at Lizzy, he continued his penetrating stare with provocative eyes.
“Jason,” she welcomed. “This is Hope.”
His gaze rested on me.
Chapter Five
“Ma’am,” Jason said, coolly playing the role of a southern gentleman, although I figured he was anything but one. His eyes burned into me as I felt my mouth struggle to move, trying to say something to this handsome young man.
“Lizzy picked out the dress,” I blurted finally. That’s it, Hope? That’s what you say? His gaze cut to her as though he was looking for some explanation. All she could do was give a slight shrug. Maybe he just thought I had a screw loose or something because he simply gave a nod and skirted around us to the rest of the men, receiving a few handshakes and the rifle that Mr. Peet had brought for him.
“What was that?” Lizzy questioned me with a whisper.
“He...I...don’t know,” I concluded, closing my eyes, wishing God would just let me replay the last ten seconds of my life over again. Stupid, stupid. Boys had never had an effect like that on me before. I was simply caught off guard and now Jason probably thought I had Tourette syndrome, waiting for me to utter some other phrase that didn’t quite make any sense or start cursing at the winds. I shook my head in disbelief.
Finding Hope in Texas Page 8
