Courting Miss Hattie (3 page)

Remembering the funeral calmed Hattie's nervousness somewhat.
Ancil
had truly been hurting, and the tears shed by those little children were the like to break anyone's heart.

"But with seven young ones to attend," the preacher continued, "well, a man pretty much has to have a wife of some sort."

Hattie felt a prick of annoyance at the slighting remark. Any wife, even Miss Hattie, was better than nothing.

"Now I know," he continued, overfilling his mouth with corn bread, "you've been a spinster lady for a lot of years now. A woman gets set in her ways, and there just ain't no getting around that." He punctuated his words with stabs at his pork. "If you're thinking that you just couldn't abide all those children or being under the rule of a man, well, truly, Miss Hattie, I'm not one of those preachers that
thinks
all women are meant for marriage. Obviously some females, like
yourself
, are just natural spinsters."

Almost stunned with disbelief, Hattie stared at her long-time friend and fought the urge to box his ears.

"I'm not sure that I think of myself as a 'natural spinster,' Preacher Able," she said civilly.

"Well," he said, swallowing as he pondered. "I suspect it wasn't all your choice. Your daddy dying when he did, you were in mourning for a good long while, and then taking care of your mother. I guess you could say that your prime marrying years just sort of passed you by."

Hattie felt a strange hollowness growing inside her. She knew that what the preacher said was true, but somehow she had always managed to keep the truth at bay. Her youth, her prime, her chance for love and marriage, had simply slipped away without her even noticing it.

Preacher Able believed she was over the
hill, that
her good years were all behind her.

He thought she was past wanting and needing a man. But did a woman ever really get past that? Hattie wasn't entirely sure. Maybe some women did, but she never had. Her childish fantasy of love and romance had faded through the years, but she had never in her heart of hearts given up the dream.

Trying to give the reverend the benefit of the doubt, she admitted to herself that she had never, by word or deed, acted as if she were interested in having a man. Her disinterest was a deliberate defense. She would not be one of those pitiful females who spent her life pining after some prince who never came. No one would ever feel sorry for her.

She was surprised to find she had played her part so well. Could the whole community not see that underneath all her contentment and satisfaction with her life she wanted the love, companionship, and yes, even the romance, that she believed other women enjoyed?

"Now, don't you give a thought about hurting
Ancil's
feelings," Preacher Able droned on. "I told him I didn't believe for a minute that you'd be interested, so he is pretty much primed for a letdown."

Hattie opened her mouth to protest, but the man continued on his painful, thoughtless course without hesitation. "I told him he ought to be heading over to
Carson
's Flat. The widow
Blackburn
has four little ones still to
raise
, and I'm sure she would be grateful to team up with a good steady man like
Ancil
."

Preacher Able washed down a bite with a good gulp of coffee, then added, "She's already been married and knows what to expect. I'm thinking that you're probably not going to be interested in learning how to
raise
up another woman's children, not having any of your own, nor even little brothers or sisters to have concerned yourself with."

Hattie felt near to panic. After twenty-nine years, a man had finally shown a bit of interest in her, and Preacher Able already had practically sent him to some other woman's front door. This might very well be her last chance. And it surely would be if she refused to see Drayton. The whole town would believe she was exactly what the preacher thought she
was,
a natural spinster with no interest in men or married life. No lonely bachelor or hardworking widower would ever give her a thought because it would be the official word in the county that Hattie Colfax wasn't interested.

Gathering together all the courage that had helped her face so many long years alone, Hattie risked the humiliation of haying her secret heart exposed to all. "Please tell Mr. Drayton that I would be pleased to have him and the children over for Sunday dinner," she said calmly, without a word of explanation.

Preacher
Able's
spoon stopped two inches from his opened mouth as he stared at her. "What was that you said?"

Hattie hid her nervous smile behind her hand. "I'll fix Sunday dinner for Mr. Drayton and his children. That will give us an opportunity to have a word or two together, and then perhaps I can make a more informed decision about whether or not I would like him to court me."

 
CHAPTER 2

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R
eed sat on the porch swing at the Turpin place with Bessie Jane snuggled up tightly beside him. He'd offered his sweetheart not much more than a peck on the cheek so far that day, and as Bessie Jane's delicate little fingers explored his shirt-front, it was obvious she wanted more. Now that dinner with her parents was finally over, she was undoubtedly expecting a romantic walk in the woods with him. He wasn't sure that was such a good idea, so he continued to sip lemonade on the veranda.

Stretching out his long legs in front of him, he contemplated his current predicament. Porch swings had been
invented,
he was sure, by a careful father who wanted to ensure the chastity of his daughter. This particular porch swing sat immediately in front of the parlor window and squeaked with rhythmic regularity.

When Reed had first begun courting Bessie Jane, he had sneaked over in the middle of the night and oiled the hooks on the swing. The next time they had sat to spark, he'd been able to make progress theretofore impossible with the noisy hinges broadcasting his every move. The oil had since worn off, though, and with his arms folded across his chest, he ignored Bessie Jane's chatter and listened instead to the creak of the chain scraping across the hanging hook.

"Reed, honey," she whispered against his neck, "what are you thinking about?"

Glancing down at her, Reed was startled anew at how truly perfect she was. A man could get lost in those big blue eyes and that tiny little mouth, its full lower lip giving the impression of a permanent pout. "Just thinking about farming, sweetheart," he answered lightly.

Bessie Jane didn't seem to like his answer at all, but with good grace she tried again. "You want some more of my mama's pie? It's always sweet."

"No thanks," he answered distractedly.

"I want something sweet," she said squirming slightly. "But I wasn't thinking of pie." She leaned closer and took a tiny bite out of the exposed flesh on his neck.

"Bessie Jane!" he whispered harshly, trying without success to move farther away.

"This is plenty sweet for me," she said. "I don't think I'll ever get my fill."

Grasping her shoulders, he deliberately put her from him. "Bessie Jane, we will not start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't finish it?" Her eyes were wide with innocence, but her voice was clear with understanding.

Reed had been completely stunned one night last fall when, after months of rather lackluster interest in him, Bessie Jane had simply failed to call a halt to his sparking. He'd had no intention of actually having her without benefit of marriage. Once he'd gone so far, though, he just hadn't been able to stop himself.

He was still confused about why she had allowed it to happen. It was obvious she hadn't enjoyed it. Although he was not totally inexperienced, he'd never been with a virgin before. He had tried to be gentle and careful, and felt sure he hadn't hurt her. He felt no tearing flesh, noticed no restricting barrier. But if tears were proof of lost virginity, it was beyond doubt that she had lost hers. He held her in his arms as she sobbed her sorrow, her delicate frame shaking with the intensity of her grief.

He'd felt closer to her in those sad
aftermoments
than at any time before or since. Immediately, he asked her to marry him. But even as she accepted his proposal and its accompanying declaration of love, she'd continued to cry as if her heart were breaking.

Reed didn't regret what had happened between them. Regret was a useless emotion best employed by sinners on their deathbeds. Still, he was determined that such a foolish lack of control would not happen again. For the last five months he'd kept his ardor in check, despite Bessie Jane's undisguised attempts to overcome his wiser judgment.

"Bessie Jane," he said quietly, "you need to stop that, sweetheart. Why don't we take a walk down to the pond? We could see if the water level has
risen
much, and we could check on the ducklings."

"There aren't any ducklings yet," she replied, deliberately ignoring his hint. "I'm just content as I can be right here."

She tried to snuggle closer again, but Reed wouldn't have it. Standing up, he offered his hand to her as he called into the parlor window, "Mr. Turpin, Bessie Jane and I are walking down to the pond."

As they strolled away from the house, her hand tucked carefully in the crook of his arm, Reed attempted to keep the conversation on safe subjects. "I've got some good news for you, Bessie Jane," he said, and he watched her face change.

"Good news for me?"

"Good news for us, I guess would be the better way to put it." He was smiling now, that smile that caused heart flutters in half the women of the county. "I think this year is going to be good for cotton. If I'm right, then even if next year is only moderate, I'll still have enough to buy out Miss Hattie."

"That's nice, Reed," she said casually.

He was surprised at her lack of excitement, then quickly decided she didn't understand the significance of the news.

"That's only a year and a half, Bessie Jane." His voice was soft, loving. "Eighteen months, and we can finally marry up proper. It's not so long to wait. It'll pass quickly, I promise."

Sighing, Bessie Jane turned to look at him. There was no pretense or coyness in her expression.

"I don't want to wait, Reed. I see no need to wait. Surely you know by now that I don't need you to own that piece of land before I marry you."

"I need to own it, Bessie Jane. I don't want you to ever think that you married down."

"I would never think that," she said with exasperation. "All Daddy talks about is how wonderful you are and what a bright future you have. He really believes in you, Reed. He'd loan you the money to buy that land in a minute if you asked him. And I know he would let us live here until we got on our feet, because he told me so himself."

"I could never live off your father, Bessie Jane."

She didn't answer. She walked beside him for a few moments, lost in thought,
then
slowly she increased the pace until they were practically running to the woods.

"What are you up to?" Reed asked, laughing as they rushed into the shelter of the trees.

Out of sight of the house, she stopped suddenly and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his body. He lowered his head for a kiss. His lips were warm and gentle, and Bessie Jane moaned low in her throat. She tried to deepen the kiss, but he broke away from her abruptly.