"Gracie?" called a voice.
It was her father's voice, deep and
commanding, and it was enough to make her jump up in fright and
knock the bucket over. She stammered for an excuse, but to her
surprise, her father held up his hand to silence her. His voice was
calm and soothing. A rare thing, but genuinely welcome when the
occasion rose, and after the day she'd had, it seemed a true
blessing indeed.
"Supper's almost ready," he said. "You'd
better get on in the house and help your Mama."
She nodded obediently, and he walked away.
She reached down and picked up the bucket, and as she did, she
wondered at the fickle nature of life and fate. One minute cruel,
the next minute kind. A person could only hope there would be more
of one than the other.
* * * *
*
She fell back into her usual routine quite
naturally. If there was one small consolation in working, it was
that it helped time to pass, and it kept the mind occupied…most of
the time.
She still thought about Charlie and his
troubles, and quite often she wondered what he was going to do now
that his father was gone. There wasn't anything to keep him here.
He'd most likely go back home, and if he did, she didn't know what
she would do with herself. Not that he was a great part of her
life. But his being back had given her a purpose. In a strange way,
and despite the sad circumstances, he had given her something to
look forward to. Life would seem so empty without him, more so than
it was already.
It had been just over a week since the
funeral, and as she'd expected, there was little mention at all of
the Hillards, living or dead. She did hear one tiny bit of news.
Walter Hillard had actually left a will. But who knew what was in
it? They weren't likely to know, unless by some chance they ran
into Charlie, but that wasn't likely, seeing as how they almost
never went into town. Even that old blabbermouth, Jim Wilson,
wouldn’t know something as secret as the contents of a will. And
so, she seemed resigned to her fate...to languish in this lonely
life, and no matter how many times she read her favorite books and
sought comfort from them, they just didn't seem to help
anymore.
It was late Saturday afternoon. The boys
were out hunting. Mrs. Langdon was in the garden, and Mr. Langdon
was away from home, seeing a friend. As for Grace, she went on a
fishing trip of her own. It was something, other than her books,
that gave her peace of mind. And at least she had Pilot. If she
didn't have a good human companion, at least she had a canine
friend to rely on…and he was quiet, which she was grateful for.
After a day dealing with rowdy brothers, a calm companion was quite
welcome.
They wandered down to the riverbank, where
their little rowboat was tied. Pilot didn't have to be encouraged
to get in. He bounded from the bank right into the bottom of the
boat, sat down, and waited patiently as his mistress got in and
readied the paddles. Grace smiled as she looked at him. He couldn't
wait until they got into the deep water where the ducks gathered,
and she knew that as soon as they rowed out and dropped anchor, he
would not be able to resist. And sure enough, that's what he did,
jumping over the side and into the water with a yelp and a splash.
She just let him go. When he got tired, he would be back. She
picked up her pole, cast her line, and waited for a bite. All was
quiet and serene, except for the sound of honking ducks and the
water that her dog was paddling. For the first time in a long
while, she felt quite content in body and mind.
Until she heard a voice, calling from across
the way.
She rolled her eyes skyward, hoping to
heaven that whoever it was would just go away. But after a moment
of silence, the voice called out again. It was a male voice,
probably one of her brothers. She couldn't be absolutely sure until
she looked…and she didn’t want to look.
"Hello out there!” the voice called.
She tried to ignore it. But her curiosity
had a way of getting the better of her, and reluctantly, she turned
to look. Her eyes widened with surprise, pleasantly so, when she
saw that it was Charlie who was calling her. Like a blindsided
fool, she lifted her hand and waved slightly. For a moment she just
sat there, staring. Then, he called out to her again, his voice
playful.
"What? Do you want me to swim over to
you?"
For a moment she felt quite the fool. But
she was never one to stay that course for long, and she smiled a
little to herself as she replied, "What's good for my dog is good
for me."
She reeled in her line quickly, put her pole
down in the bottom of the boat, and rowed over to him. Pilot,
seeing the boat move, paddled not far behind it. When they got
closer, she saw that Charlie was carrying a fishing pole himself,
and a little tremor of anticipation traveled down her spine. Before
she could say anything, he spoke first.
"I was just at your house looking for you.
Your Mama told me you were fishing down here, so I thought I'd join
you.
She took his fishing rod as he handed it to
her, and carefully he stepped into the boat. Pilot, who was never
one to be left behind, followed right after, sitting himself down
at Grace’s knee.
They rowed back out, and when the dog jumped
back into the water after the ducks, Grace was suddenly nervous at
the realization that she and Charlie were quite alone. It didn't
matter that they had spent many hours by themselves before, for
that had been as children. Now that they were grown, the rules of
the game had changed considerably, and she wasn't at all sure how
to play. All she could think to do was ask a few questions. It
seemed the most logical way to ease the tension.
"How’ve you been?" she asked. It seemed like
such a dumb question, but she couldn't think of anything else to
say.
He shrugged. "All right, I guess, all things
considered. Did you hear he left me the old place? All the bottom
land?"
"Really?" she asked. She smiled. "That's
sure good to hear." She sobered a little, as she thought sadly of
the father and son relationship that was so badly broken. "So then,
maybe he didn't forget about you after all."
Charlie was silent. The brightness was gone
from his face, the way it always was when they talked about his
father. She didn't want to see that gloom every time they were
together. There were happier things to talk about.
"So you're staying here for a while, are
you?"
"I am," he replied, the shadows passing
away. He seemed to brighten once again.
She smiled happily, her face warming. "I'm
glad.” To that, he shook his head in agreement.
"Me, too.” Then he looked at her, and
flashing that smooth smile of his…the one that sent a charge up her
spine…he inclined his head slightly towards her, his voice
soft.
"Besides. I wouldn't want to leave good
company.”
She blushed deeper, flattered in the notion
that he was talking about her. She didn't want to be trapped into
the honey of his words, but somehow, she just couldn't help
herself. His voice and words had a power she didn't understand. Or
maybe, she just didn't want to.
The afternoon passed quickly. They talked of
old memories, of his time in the service. He even offered to teach
her how to drive. She’d never ridden in a motor vehicle before, and
he laughed as he told her how nice it was to drive something
without looking at the back end of a horse. They laughed often, and
the time flew by as they talked of many things and went on catching
fish. It seemed too soon that they had called it a day and were
headed back to the house.
"You're quite a fisherwoman," he said,
pointing to the large trio of catfish she held at her side. "You
must have learned that from Jack. I remember how he used to take us
fishing all the time."
Her expression sobered at the mention of her
brother, and it didn't go unnoticed.
"I heard what happened, why he left and
all," he said. "Aunt Mary and your Mama kept in touch through the
years." He paused, and said gently, "You still miss him a lot,
don't you?"
She could have given in to gloom. It was
tempting, the notion of pouring her heart out to him…to let him be
a hero, as men liked to be. How wonderful it would have been to
hear soft, soothing words of comfort. That kind of attention would
have been so heavenly. But she didn't want to linger in sadness.
There had been too much of that lately. So she kept herself
together, replying with a cool expression and a slight smile as she
thought of her beloved brother.
"I miss him every day," she said. "But he's
married now, and he's happy. That's what really matters."
He nodded his head. She saw it from the
corner of her eye, and in that small gesture, they both sensed that
a change of subject was due. It was he who initiated it, with a
question.
"So how come you're not married yet? You're
seventeen. A lot of girls your age are old married women, with at
least two or three kids."
She smiled, and with a little laugh, she
sighed. "Mama and Daddy wonder the same thing. So do all those old
pea hens down at church. They'd have me marry old man Wilson if it
meant I'd have a house full of babies. Can you imagine me with
him?" She gave a shudder, to which he chuckled. Then he looked at
her curiously.
"So you won't ever get married then?"
"Oh I didn't say that," she replied quickly.
"But I want something special." She thought of the guide to her
life, the book she loved most.
"Have you ever read Jane Eyre?" she
asked.
He shrugged and shook his head.
"It's the most romantic story in the world,"
she said. "Jane is a poor, plain little woman. A governess, with no
money and no family that wants her. She works for a dark,
mysterious man, Mr. Rochester. He has a big secret he's keeping,
but I won' tell you what it is, in case you ever read the book. To
make a long story short, they fall madly in love. There are
problems along the way of course, but in the end, they live happily
ever after. And that is what I want."
He chuckled at her story. "You do know it's
just a book, don't you? In real life, nothing ever ends with a
fantastic happily ever after."
She shrugged. "Maybe not. But it’s the
notion of finding your perfect mate that just makes my heart skip a
beat. People can love like that, if they want to. Just look at Jack
and Alice, how happy they are together. That’s what I want. I want
someone who will love me with their whole heart and soul. When I
fall in love, I'll give everything I've got, and maybe more. So why
shouldn't the man I marry do the same for me?"
She waited for a wonderful response,
something that would send her senses reeling. She wanted to hear
him tell her what a romantic she was. She longed to hear great
warmth in his tone…admiration for her passionate nature.
Instead, he snorted. He scoffed, letting out
a great laugh, as if to say how stupid he thought she was. Then he
shook his head at her, his smile and words both belittling her.
"You spend too much time reading
stories.”
His laughter stung…very
deeply. She didn’t know why it should bother her, but it did. She
examined him closely, looking for some sign of tenderness or maybe
even regret. But all she saw was him grinning, shaking his
head.
Maybe he doesn’t realize he just hurt
my feelings
, she thought. She waited a
moment, and at last he seemed to realize she was staring at him.
His expression was almost blank, clueless as he was.
“
What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she
replied.
But it
was
something. A strange, sinking
feeling is what it was. How it hurt to be laughed at, when she had
opened up a little part of her soul. She wanted to ignore the hurt
that had begun inside. She wanted to be unmoved by his ridicule,
but it made her eyes sting with tears. She turned her head away,
clenched her jaw, and took a deep, calming breath. The tremor of
sorrow passed...and a feeling of frustration took its place. His
question disrupted her thoughts.
“
Why are you so quiet all of
a sudden?”
Obviously, laughing at the wrong moment was
something he did not understand.
Just like a man,
she thought
, To be so
thoughtless.
She wanted to say so to his
face, but she forced the words back. She gave him a quiet reply.
“Sometimes there’s just nothing to say.”
He shrugged, and in that little gesture she
saw no caring, no remorse that he had hurt her feelings. He was
simply moving on to the next subject, no questions to be asked. She
wanted to tell him how he had just broken the magic spell for her,
but he spoke before she could think of how to say it.
"Maybe I can think of something to talk
about,” he said. He stopped in his tracks to look at her, his face
becoming more serious. “What would you say if I asked you to marry
me?"
Shock overwhelmed her. His
question
was so unexpected, to say the
least. A marriage proposal? She was certain he was only teasing. He
had to be. It was all a joke, meant to tease her. Nervously, she
started to chuckle. It was her hope that he might laugh a little
too, and then she would know he was only being silly. But he did
not laugh. He wore a slight smile, but it was a half-hearted kind
of gesture, as if he was bothered by her amusement.
“
Did I say something funny?”
he asked.
At his tone, she felt a twinge of anxiety,
and perhaps a touch of fear. There was something unsettling in the
way he spoke. But she brushed off that feeling of foreboding, and
tried to draw out the humor in him. "You always were a fooler,” she
said, putting on a smile.