Courting Miss Hattie (23 page)

Glancing up once during a lull, she found Bessie Jane at her side. "You look ill," she told the young woman.

Bessie Jane seemed startled by her observation. "I just hate funerals," she said.

Hattie found her reasoning curious. To her knowledge, Bessie Jane had never lost anyone close to her. Shrugging, she assumed that death, like most of life's realities, had not yet come home to roost for the young woman. "You can scrape these dishes if you've a mind to," she said.

To her surprise, Bessie Jane charged into the work, not just scraping the dishes but washing and drying them also. Truth to tell, Hattie had always thought Bessie Jane to be a bit on the lazy side, but she threw herself into the kitchen work, taking most of the cleaning burden off Hattie's shoulders.

Grateful for the respite, Hattie wended her way through the shack, speaking first to one person then the next. When she saw Reed on the porch, her first instinct was to go to him. However, she realized he was out there to offer support to Harmon. The younger man was not used to being accepted at community social occasions, and being the center of attention while still in shock over his father's death was more than most could have handled. Harm seemed to be holding his own, but Hattie was glad Reed was there to fill in the lags in conversation.

"Well, it's quite a sight, isn't it?" Arthur Turpin said from behind her. At Hattie's quizzical look, he enlarged on his statement. "I never thought I would see the day when decent churchgoing folks would waste an entire afternoon mourning a worthless drunken sinner who is better off dead than he was alive."

Hattie felt her spine stiffen. Bessie Jane's father was well-known for his rigid opinions and holier-than-thou Christianity. For the most part, folks just accepted it as part and parcel of the man. He was wealthy, by local standards, and his very prosperity frequently led him to maintain the most inflexible of religious convictions. Since the Bible stated that it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter heaven, Turpin excused his riches on earth by his unstinting adherence to the straightest part of the straight and narrow.
Though only, of course, when it didn't interfere with business.

"You know yourself, Mr. Turpin," Hattie said, "that a funeral is more for the living than for the dead."

"It's for that boy, you mean," Turpin replied. "It seems to me that you and the preacher's wife both
fell
victim to a spawn of Satan with a pretty face." The man shook his head disapprovingly. "Grown women ought to know better."

"Harmon is not a spawn of Satan," Hattie said, her chin coming up defiantly. "He is a hardworking young man who took care of his sick father and is now grieving. Nothing could be more Christian than helping him through this time of trouble."

"You don't know this boy like I do," Turpin insisted. "He's no good clear to the core, and he's going to cause a peck of trouble someday. I'm just hoping that he's far away from here when he does it."

"If you feel so strongly about this, Mr. Turpin," Hattie asked, plainly irritated, "then what are you doing here?"

"Reed was going to come, no matter what I said about it. And if he was going to bring Bessie Jane, I had to come to make sure she was safe."

"'Safe'?" Hattie repeated,
then
added with mocking gravity, "You certainly have cause to worry about your daughter's safety at a funeral dinner among thirty members of the church with her betrothed beside her." Hattie was downright angry now. "I'm sure safety was your main concern, Mr. Turpin"—she gazed pointedly at his full plate of food—"but feel free to eat all you can while you're here protecting your daughter."

It was late afternoon before the crowd departed. Bessie Jane had taken care of the worst of the cleanup, but Hattie stayed to sort the array of borrowed dishes and pots that would have to be returned to their owners.

Harmon came in and seated himself at the table, watching her.

"Would you like some lemonade?" she asked him.

A wide smile flashed across his face. "No, ma'am. I've had enough of that to drown a less hardy man."

She smiled, glad that he was holding up so well. She knew a lot of men would have turned to the whiskey bottle at a time like this. She was grateful Harmon hadn't seen the need.

"I want to thank you for the dinner and all," he said sincerely.

"It wasn't me," she said. "The whole church—"

"The whole church would never have thought to even show up at my father's funeral, let alone give him a dinner, unless you'd made a point of it."

It was true, so Hattie didn't try to deny it. She simply shrugged it off.

"I won't be forgetting it, Miss Hattie," he said quietly. Looking around, he commented on the changes inside the shack.

"Oh, it just needs a woman's touch," she said. The change on his face was not a bright one, so she hastily added, "There are a lot of very nice young girls in this county, Harmon. Most of
whom
have the good sense to fall in love with the man and not his past."

Harm's smile was halfhearted. "I'm sure that's true of you, Miss Hattie. If old Drayton has the good sense to snap you up, he'll be a lucky man."

She looked away, flustered by the compliment.

A step was heard on the front porch,
then
Reed poked his head in the door.

"I thought you'd gone," Harmon said.

"I took Bessie Jane home. Thought I'd best come back for Miss Hattie."

"There was no need," Hattie said, but couldn't still the well of joy that had suddenly sprung up inside her. "I knew I could handle this myself or I would have asked Andy to stay."

"Andy had every intention of staying, until I sent him home," Reed said. "You want me to start loading those things in the buggy?"

With the help of the two men, Hattie soon had the rest of the dishes sorted, marked, and ready to go. Reed helped her up onto the seat,
then
turned to Harmon. "
You going
to be all right here?"

Harmon nodded. "I appreciate all that you two did," he said. "I feel like Daddy knows somewhere that we did right by him and that we mourned him." His tender words embarrassed him, and he gave a disparaging duck of his head. "Pretty fanciful thinking for a junkman."

Reed embraced him like a brother, patting him heartily on the back. "I'll be flooding the rice field in the next couple of days. I'd like you to be there to help me work that pump if I need it."

"I'll be there," said Harm. "I want to see Miss Hattie's face when we cover up all that pretty rice with water."

* * *

As Hattie's buggy trundled down the road toward the colorful sunset, she felt ill at ease in Reed's presence. She was sure it was nothing Reed had done. It was her own foolishness that made her remember his kisses instead of
Ancil's
.

"I thought everything went well," she said finally, needing to break the long silence.

"What? Oh, yes, I think it was very nice," Reed replied. He'd obviously been deep in his own thoughts and completely unaware of the silence between them. "I want to thank you for all you did, Miss Hattie," he said, smiling at her. "The spread was really fine, and I know that was more your doing than Millie's. And I know what that house looked like when we left for the funeral. I asked Andy how you'd performed such a miracle, and he said you worked like a whirlwind."

She laughed lightly. "He probably said I worked
him
like a whirlwind. He did most of the sweeping and scrubbing."

"I'll have to tell Mama," he said. "She can't get him to even pick up after himself around the house."

When their laughter faded and Reed spoke again, his voice was more serious. "I guess I'm about the only friend Harm has. That's plenty surprising, since he's lived in this town all his life and I'd hardly talked to him two months ago. But that's the way it is. It should have been Bessie Jane taking care of the dinner and such. Since she's my future wife, it was really her job, and I'm sorry the whole burden fell on you."

Hattie was surprised and a little perturbed at his attitude. "I helped because I wanted to, Reed. It had nothing to do with you."

"I
didn't mean that you didn't," he said hurriedly. "I was just thinking that Bessie Jane should have been more involved. She doesn't care for Harmon much."

"She did help," Hattie said. "She was in the kitchen for over an hour, willing to do her share. I don't know much about
her opinion of Harm, but I sure didn't care much for her
father's."

Reed raised a curious eyebrow, and Hattie related Turpin's diatribe against the younger
Leege
.

"He is thickheaded," Reed admitted. "He's really set
against farming rice and gives me an earful of advice every time I see him."

"I can't imagine what he has against Harmon."

"I do know that Harm was interested in courting Bessie Jane."

"I'd heard that, too, but nothing ever came of it."

"I'm sure Turpin gave him the boot before he even got up to the house. He probably wouldn't be the only father with that reaction, but it seems a bit long to hold a grudge."

When they reached Hattie's place, Reed pulled up in the yard and helped her down. They made several trips carrying the contents of the buggy into the house.

"I'll go unhitch the horse and give her a rubdown," Reed said when they had finished the unloading."

"Thank you," Hattie said. "Do you want a glass of lemonade? We've still got some."

He shook his head. "I've had a gallon of that today. But I could go for a cup of coffee if you've a mind to brew some."

Hattie was surprised at the request but eagerly complied as
he headed out
to
the barn. By the time the scent of coffee was wafting through the house, she heard Reed moving around out on the porch. Curious, she stepped outside to find him sitting on the porch floor next to the swing he had hurriedly unloaded the day before.

"You ready for coffee?" she asked.

He looked up and smiled. "Yes, ma'am. Have you got a lantern in the house?"

"Yes, there's one here in the kitchen."

"Bring it out here, and I'll hang this swing for you."

Hattie poured the hot coffee into their usual breakfast mugs. Lighting the lantern, she hooked the handle on one arm so that
she could carry everything in one trip. She'd just reached the door when Reed was on his feet opening it for her. He took his coffee and the lantern.

After managing the lantern on the nail on the front post, he
took a deep swallow of the coffee and made a noise of apprecia
tion. "Is this the best place to hang this thing?" he asked,
indicating the far end of the porch.

"Yes, I think so," Hattie replied, studying his choice. "It will get the sun in the morning and the shade in the afternoon.
I
couldn't ask for more than that."

He smiled at her choice of words. "You really don't ask for much, do you?"

She glanced away, slightly embarrassed at his admiration. "I
guess I didn't get around to thanking you for the swing. Things
were so jumbled yesterday,
I really didn't even think about it.
But I like it a lot."

Shrugging off her gratitude, Reed tried to explain himself.
"I just thought that with you
courting these days
…
well, every woman needs a courting swing."

"Is
that what this is!"
she exclaimed,
then
giggled. "I
was thinking it was someplace to rest my tired bones after you nearly work me to death in that rice field."

Laughing with her, Reed found he was very glad he'd made the swing. It was such a little
thing,
he should have built one
for her years ago. He'd just never thought of it, not until he'd imagined her with Drayton.

"Swings were invented by fathers," he said. "It's the most uncomfortable place for sparking you can imagine. With
Drayton
calling on you and no
menfolk
or chaperone around, I was thinking you'd need kind of a safe place."

"Men don't like to sit in swings?"

"Well, it's better than sitting across the porch from each other, but it's not good for much else but hugging and kissing."

"Well, that's certainly
enough," Hattie said, slightly
shocked. What else did courting couples do?
she
wondered.

Reed heard the hint of outrage in her voice and cursed himself for a fool
.
Was he trying to make her afraid of Drayton? Did he want her to send him packing? "Hand me that drill, Hattie," he said, stepping up on a stool to reach the porch
ceiling. "Can you hold that light a little closer?"

Watching as Reed pounded along the wood with his fist until he found the sound that indicated a beam on the other side, Hattie's gaze was drawn to his well-muscled arms and the strong masculine curves of his body. The memory of his kiss, his touch, flooded her, and she steeled herself to maintain her nonchalant manner.