Springtime at Hope Cottage

by Annie Rains

“Yeah.”

  “Well, I’d love to promise you that Stone will never ever say anything stupid again. But I’m afraid I can’t. Bert says stupid things all the time. But somehow we manage to forgive each other, since I’ve been known to say dumb things, too. If it makes you feel any better, Stone’s completely torn up about what’s happened between you two. He’s been fishing nonstop since you gave him back his ring. And when he does that, you know he’s hurting real bad about something.”

  “Mrs. Rhodes, I don’t want him to hurt. But if he can’t understand how it hurt me when he went behind my back, or how angry I was when he—” She stopped before she said too much, then quickly continued to cover up her near blunder. “I know the Lord values forgiveness, Mrs. Rhodes. But I’m struggling with it right now. I guess that makes me a lesser person, but I can’t help but feel I deserve an apology.”

  * * *

  Stone clutched the bouquet in a death grip as he marched up the walk to Sharon’s front door. He had to be crazy to come up here with these flowers. Sharon was going to throw him out on his backside.

  The little ring in his pocket grew heavier. He was not entirely sure this was the right thing to do. But he was doing it. He couldn’t stand the idea of Sharon going to college and being with some other guy.

  He knocked on the door and waited. A trickle of sweat inched down his back. It was still ninety-five degrees and muggy as all get-out. The frogs were starting their evening song. Pretty soon the mosquitoes would be out in full force.

  The door opened, spilling light onto the darkening day. Mrs. McKee looked down her straight, narrow nose and managed to make Stone feel about three feet tall. Sharon’s mother was some kind of high and mighty.

  He cleared his throat. “Is Sharon home?”

  “She is, but she’s gone to bed early to get her beauty rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for her, you know. She has to be up at five-thirty to get ready for the Watermelon Festival parade.” Mrs. McKee’s disapproving stare made Stone feel like an idiot for not realizing how busy Sharon was. Of course, he would have known all of this, if he’d been thinking straight.

  But he hadn’t really been thinking straight since Sharon threw his ring at him.

  He held out the flowers he’d just bought at the florist shop in the Bi-Lo supermarket. They were pink. He had no idea what kind of flowers they were, but they seemed to be wilting in the heat. Or maybe he was holding them so tight he was strangling them. “Uh, could you give her these, please. And tell her I want to talk to her.”

  Mrs. McKee gazed at the flowers as if they were something nasty. “You know, when I was a girl in Charleston, the young men who courted me brought roses, not carnations. You really don’t want me to give her those, do you? I mean, tomorrow she’s going to have people throwing roses at her feet.”

  He stared at the flowers. They suddenly seemed pitiful. He pulled back his hand. “Well, uh, could you tell her I stopped by?”

  Mrs. McKee folded her arms across her chest. “Stone, I don’t think she wants to talk to you. She gave you back your ring, didn’t she? She’s going to college. She’s going to better herself.”

  The stems of the flowers snapped. There was no point in arguing. Sharon wanted a college boy, and he would never be that.

  “Good night, Mrs. McKee,” he said between his clenched teeth.

  He threw the broken flowers down on the porch, turned, and stalked off to his truck. He fired it up and took it out to Route 70, where he turned all 350 horses loose. That was almost fun until Sheriff Bennett pulled him over, made him take a sobriety test, and then threw the book at him just because he hadn’t been drinking and therefore should have known better.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It was oh-dark-thirty on Saturday morning. Mother tuned the car radio to the all-news station as she and Sharon drove to the parade staging area at the high school. The announcer came on talking about trouble in the Middle East. Iraq had invaded Kuwait, and President Bush said the United States wouldn’t let the aggression stand. The secretary of state said the United Nations would take up the issue. The secretary of defense suggested that the United States would send in the air force and the marines.

  Sharon’s stomach dropped, and not with anticipation for her big day ahead.

  Mother didn’t miss a beat. “See,” she said as they pulled into the school’s parking lot, “there’s a good reason not to get involved with a marine.”

  Sharon pressed her lips together. What was the point of arguing with Mother? She didn’t get it. Not like Mrs. Rhodes.

  Sharon had been thinking a lot about the things Mrs. Rhodes had said yesterday. In fact, she had spent a sleepless night, thinking and worrying about Stony. She hated the idea of him hurting. It made her insides feel all funny and bad.

  So she did what she had been doing for the last few years, ever since Daddy died. When she got that funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, she prayed. And when prayer didn’t help, she would pull out her Bible and randomly pick a passage to read. Nine times out of ten she found comfort there. And often she found remarkably good advice.

  Last night she’d opened her Bible right to Corinthians and found Saint Paul’s beautiful words about how love is always patient and kind. How it doesn’t insist on its own way. How love is never resentful. And how, most of all, love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.

  The minute she read that Bible passage, Sharon realized that whatever was wrong between her and Stony wasn’t only his doing. She had a part in it, too. She had said some terribly unkind things about his goals. She needed to remember Saint Paul’s words: Love does not insist on its own way.

  She saw clearly now how Mother had been insisting on her own way for a very long time. And Sharon had been going along with her, in the name of love. But she couldn’t do it anymore. She wanted to be a better person. The kind of person who could love without preconditions.

  The minute the car rolled to a stop, Sharon opened the door and jumped out. She didn’t think she could spend another instant in her mother’s company.

  “Be careful or you’ll tear your dress.”

  “Mother, please, I don’t care about my dress,” Sharon replied. “What I care about is Stony. He could be heading right into a war zone, and your ugly comments are beyond insensitive. Stony is a human being, same as you and me. More important, he’s my friend. Maybe my best friend in all the world.” She stopped before she worked herself up into a full yell.

  She turned and walked toward the people staging the parade floats. Mother yelled at her back as she walked away: “You’ll thank me one day, missy. That no-account boy came by last night looking for you. He brought you carnations. Can you imagine? Carnations instead of roses. That pretty much says it all. His mother is a hairdresser, and his daddy is a laughingstock. And he’s going into the marines because he can’t even afford college. You’re well rid of him.”

  “Stony came by last night? When?” Sharon turned and asked her questions in a surprisingly calm voice, given her fury. She needed to take this confrontation with Mother down a notch. People in the staging area were starting to stare.

  “He came by around nine,” Mother said. “You were taking a bath. I sent him away. I told him you didn’t ever want to see him again.”

  “How could you?” Sharon hissed the words.

  Mother blinked. “How could I what? You broke up with him, didn’t you?”

  Sharon didn’t argue. She had broken up with him. She had gotten angry when she hadn’t gotten her way. And how did that make her any different from Mother? She’d been silly and selfish.

  If only she’d known that Stone had come to see her last night. She would have apologized. Clearly, if he’d come bearing flowers, he’d intended to make his own apologies.

  Sharon turned away from her mother and walked toward the queen’s float. Within minutes, she was hoisted up onto her throne, but it was the last place on earth she wanted to be. She wanted to be f
ree to find Stony and get things straight between them.

  Instead, she had to plaster a smile on her face and ride in the parade. She had to kick off the barbecue at the country club with a small speech. She had to taste the hash and proclaim it the best ever. She had to pose for photos with the mayor and the men who cooked the pigs. She had to eat with the members of her court. She had to smile and sign autographs for the little girls who looked up to the Watermelon Queen. She had to shake hundreds of hands. She had to listen to people talk about how unselfish she was for giving up her prize money, knowing just how wrong those people were. She had to endure everyone looking at her as if she were something special.

  And every minute of it was torture because Stony wasn’t at her side. Without him there, it all seemed superficial. She felt like a complete fraud.

  Sharon finally managed to escape, late in the day. After visiting the little girls’ room, she snuck out of the dance pavilion’s back door. The country club was situated right on the banks of the Edisto River. She slipped out of her heels and let the sword grass cool her aching feet as she walked down to the riverbank.

  What was she going to do about Stony? She’d obviously hurt him badly if he hadn’t even shown up at the barbecue. Everyone came to the barbecue.

  She walked along the riverbank toward the downstream pier, deserted now that the day was nearly done. She sat on one of the benches and gazed upriver.

  And there he stood on the upstream fishing pier with a line in the water.

  Of course. What an idiot she had been. His mother had told her that he’d been fishing nonstop. She should have come looking for him sooner.

  She watched him cast his line. He was graceful and powerful, and she never tired of watching his hands in motion. They were broad in the palm and long in the finger. They could be strong and gentle, just like him.

  Heat flushed through her as she thought about what those hands could do to her body.

  She got up and marched toward him, a woman with a mission, her heart hammering against her ribs and the words of Corinthians spinning in her head. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, a surprised look on his face.

  She didn’t wait for him to put down his fishing rod. She simply threw herself into his arms. The rush of relief was strong and almost earthshaking. There was no place she fit as well. She had been a fool to get so angry with him. She promised herself never to get that angry with him again.

  * * *

  Nothing had been right that day for Stone until Sharon came rushing down the pier and into his arms. And then the pressure of her body against his made everything seem extremely clear. Which was kind of funny because holding Sharon usually made his head go fuzzy. But not this time. She felt soft and curvy, and her incredible dress left her shoulders bare. He pressed his lips to her throat. A buzz of desire filled his head along with her sweet scent.

  He linked a series of kisses up her neck and across her cheek, and all the way to her sweet, soft mouth. She tasted of forgiveness and sex. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squirmed a little against his front. Boy, she was really hot and willing.

  “Honey, I need to talk to you,” he murmured against her cheek.

  She looked up at him, the lights from the distant pavilion dancing in her dark eyes. “It’s okay, Stony. I forgive you. And I’m sorry for being so silly. Real love isn’t selfish. Real love is forgiving. Your mother told me that yesterday, but it took a while to sink in.” Her voice sounded strained and shaky, like she might cry. He had never seen her cry before, and it slayed him to think that he might have put tears in her eyes. He never wanted to do that again.

  “Honey, listen. I gotta say something here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Well, the thing is, I want you. Bad. And, well…” He exhaled in frustration and stopped. “I didn’t start that right. Let me try again.”

  Sharon pressed her fingers across his lips. “No, Stony, you don’t have to explain. I just haven’t been listening is all. I needed to close my mouth and open my eyes and listen to you.”

  He gently moved her fingers away. “Honey, let me finish, please. I got a heap of things to say.”

  She smiled up at him. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the person you want, but, see—”

  “Stony, for goodness’ sake. You are precisely the person I want. I know I said some stupid things about you going to college, but I don’t want you to go to college if it’s not what you want. And I’m not like Mother. I love you for who you are, not something I think you are. And as for the rest, well, I want you so bad. I think you maybe started out better the first time.”

  “Sharon, you’re not listening.”

  “Oh, sorry, I just meant that I don’t want to wait any longer. I want to—”

  “Shhh.” He stared at her for a long time. Was she saying yes before he even got to ask? No, that wasn’t right. She was saying yes to the wrong thing. And he wasn’t about to let her do that, as much as he really wanted to drag her off somewhere and get her naked. If he did that, she wouldn’t respect him—or herself—in the morning. And that mother of hers would never let her hear the end of it.

  “I’m not taking you to the Peach Blossom Motor Court.”

  She startled and dropped her arms from around his neck. She stepped back, her brown eyes widening. “But on Wednesday you said—”

  “I know what I said, and it was shameful. Really. You’ve made it clear that you don’t want to do that. I don’t know why I suggested it. I’ve been going over it again and again, and I realize that I got it all wrong on Wednesday, too. I’m just not good at this.”

  He dug into his pocket and pulled out the little box Aunt Arlene had given him. He dropped to one knee. “Sharon McKee, will you marry me?”

  She looked a little scared, so he figured he should keep talking.

  He sucked in some more air and continued: “I know you really value your independence, and I guess we could go somewhere or something, but I want more. I mean, I know that you want more. And I respect you for it. I want you to be mine even if you are independent. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but it does if you think about it long enough.

  “I’ll be gone a lot. And you wanting to be independent is probably a good thing. But, see here, you’ll still be my wife. And I want it that way.

  “And I did a little research. We can’t get married in South Carolina without waiting a bunch of days, but we could drive to Georgia and get married tonight.”

  He’d run out of words and air. He gazed up at her. She was kind of smiling, but her eyes looked all watery too, like she might cry. His heart raced. He didn’t know what else he could do to talk her into marrying him. But he was determined to do it even if he had to stay here on his knee for the next three hours.

  She got down on her knees, too. “You planned this out?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Did you come to the house last night to say this?”

  He nodded. “Your mother said you didn’t want to see me.”

  “Mother didn’t ask. She just assumed.”

  “After she sent me away, I got really mad. And then Sheriff Bennett gave me a speeding ticket. Shoot, honey, I didn’t know that carnations weren’t as good as roses. I’ve been out here fishing all day and worrying that you might think I wasn’t—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, my mother told you that carnations weren’t good enough for me? She said that to your face last night? Good grief. Stony, honey, I don’t deserve you, but I love you with all my heart. These last few days have made me realize it. I don’t ever want to be away from you. You’re like my anchor or something.”

  A fountain of pure joy sprang up inside him. “You think I’m your anchor? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Miz Miriam said that exact same thing to me. She said I was supposed to be your anchor. And I want to be that for you, Sharon. I love you so much. I’m going to love you u
ntil the day I die.”

  She gave him a fierce hug. “Don’t you say that, Stony Rhodes. I’m so scared for you. Have you heard the news about Iraq?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, if you get sent there, just remember that I plan for us to grow old together.”

  He laughed. “Are you going to make a list to go with that plan?”

  “Don’t you laugh. This is not funny. You come home to me.”

  “I promise. We’re going to be together forever, honey. We’ve got Miz Miriam Randall to thank for that.”

  She kissed him, and her mouth was like a hot summer night, full of stars and moonshine and first-time love. She never really said yes. She just kissed him until he couldn’t breathe. And that’s when he got off his knees, and carried her all the way to his truck.

  * * *

  “Oh crap, Mother’s home,” Sharon said as Stone pulled his truck to the curb. He responded to this news with a truly filthy curse word, and for once, Sharon wasn’t of a mind to object.

  “You’re sure I need my birth certificate? Wouldn’t my driver’s license be good enough?” she asked.

  “Not according to what the Georgia authorities told me on the phone. Do you know where your birth certificate is?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, it’s in a file in Daddy’s study. Mother doesn’t go in there very often. The room is kind of a shrine to Daddy. But still, if she hears me, I’m dead. She thinks I’m at the barbecue, and it won’t be long before I’m missed.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She smiled at him. “Getting cold feet?”

  “No, but I don’t want you to get into trouble with your mother. She already hates me.”

  “She’s going to really hate you after we elope, but I don’t care. That’s her problem. You stay here. I’ll be back in no more than ten minutes.”

  “And if you’re not?”

  “Then you come busting in like the marine you want to be. Give me ten minutes.”

  Sharon headed to the front porch, walking on her bare feet, her Watermelon Queen dress swishing with every step. She opened the front door.