Courting Miss Hattie (33 page)

Harmon looked at Arthur Turpin, loud-mouthed, sure-of-himself Arthur Turpin, now broken and frightened that an evil deed done in darkness so long ago would now come to light. "I've known all along," he said. "I understood that my mother left with you, and I realized that I was the only one who knew. When you came back, I kept waiting for her to walk through the door too. Night after night, Jake lay drunk on his cot while I waited for Mama. She never came back."

Turpin gathered up the last of his strength, raising his head with as much pride as he could muster. "So you've decided to turn the tables on me. You're taking Bessie Jane away, and she's never coming back, so I'll suffer the same way you did."

Harm shook his head, his expression almost pitying. "I am going to marry Bessie Jane. We've been in love since we were children. There was something between us from the moment we met. We didn't ask to love each other, we both tried not to, but we couldn't stop the loving."

His voice was sincere, with no intent to hurt or lay blame. "Mr. Turpin, we're not children anymore. We intend to marry and be happy. If you choose not to be a part of that, it's your choice. Bessie Jane loves you a lot and wants your approval. If you decide not to give it, you'll only be cheating yourself."

The back screen door slammed, and Bessie Jane came walking toward them, traveling bag in hand. Her mother fluttered along at her side, seeming stunned at the unexpected turn of events. Her head held high, Bessie Jane walked straight to the man she would marry, whether her father approved or not. When she reached Harmon's side, she glanced warily at her father before saying, "I'm ready to leave."

Harmon slipped a protective arm around her waist and took her bag.

"I just don't understand what is happening," her mother said, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Turpin," Harmon told her. "We'll send you a wire when we get to
Memphis
to let you know where we'll be." He held out his hand to her father. "Good-bye Mr. Turpin."

Bessie Jane's father just stared at him.

Harmon withdrew his hand and indicated to Bessie Jane that is was time to go.

"Good-bye, Mama. Good-bye, Daddy," she said simply, and turned to follow her heart and the man who was to be her husband.

They had gone only about ten paces when Arthur Turpin found his voice. "Little girl!" he called. Bessie Jane turned to look at him. "Don't you two stay gone too
long.
I got a business to run, and I'm going to need help. Besides, I'd hate to travel to here and gone just to watch my grandchildren grow up."

Tears smarting in her eyes, Bessie Jane ran back into her father's arms.

"Thank you, Daddy. Thank you so much for understanding. You're going to love him, I just know you are."

"Why do you think so?" her father asked, trying to blink back the moisture in his eyes. "Just because you do?"

She nodded and gave a tearful little chuckle. One more hug for her mother, and they both wiped their eyes on her mother's apron. Then she ran back to Harmon.

With a glance over her shoulder, she added her final parting words. "Tell Reed the wedding is off."

 
CHAPTER
 
17

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B
y the time Hattie went to church on Sunday morning, the story of her difficulties with
Ancil
Drayton was just making the rounds. It did not, fortunately, spark inordinate attention, being plainly overshadowed by the news that Bessie Jane Turpin had run off with Harmon
Leege
.

Millie had hurried out to her house on Saturday to let her know. Hattie had been shocked. That morning Bessie Jane had passionately pleaded for an expedient wedding to Reed, and in the afternoon she'd left for
Memphis
to marry up with his business partner.

Confused, her heart aching for Reed, Hattie sat in her usual pew at the Sunday service and listened as Preacher Able made the announcement. "Arthur and Maude Turpin want to announce the marriage of their daughter Bessie Jane to Harmon
Leege
."

In the ensuing silence every eye was turned on Reed Tyler, watching for his reaction.

"The couple was married on Thursday in
Memphis
," the reverend continued, "but they plan to return to this community to make it their home."

Not giving his neighbors the satisfaction of knowing his feelings, Reed kept his gaze on the preacher, an expression of indifference on his face.

"I'm sure," Preacher Able concluded, "that the entire church community will be eager to welcome this new couple into our midst."

Hattie had her doubts. Bessie Jane's capriciousness would not be soon forgotten. And the church members, if it was deemed necessary to choose sides, would pick Reed, a well-liked regular church member, over Harm the junkman without much deliberation.

Sighing quietly, Hattie hoped it wouldn't come to that. Harmon was a fine fellow, just making a place for himself in the community. Who would have thought he would run off with Bessie Jane, though? The girl had never given any indication of even liking Harmon. In a small way, Hattie felt that part of it may have been her fault. While Bessie Jane was being lured away, Reed had been at her house trying to talk her into marrying
Ancil
Drayton.

She had met up with
Cyl
and Reed on the road between her place and Drayton's. "You'd best go home now,
Cyl
," Hattie had said as she stopped the buggy beside them. "I think your father is pretty much over his anger, but it won't do you a bit of good to stay away from your chores half a day."

The young girl had nodded fatalistically,
then
turned to Reed. "You'll talk to her?" she asked.

After assuring the young child that he would, Reed stepped up into the buggy and seated himself beside Hattie. She didn't offer him the reins, so he leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head in a relaxed pose. "So," he began with almost lighthearted teasing, "I guess you got your feelings all hurt and broke your engagement."

Silent for a moment, Hattie tightened her jaw with anger. "Yes, I suppose I did," she replied stiffly. "It was silly of me, I guess, to even imagine a man might want me for myself instead of my farm."

Reed straightened immediately, his expression contrite. "That's not at all what I meant."

"What exactly did you mean?" she asked. "Now that I know how
Ancil
really feels, I'm just to shrug and say, 'Ain't it a sight,' and go ahead and marry him?"

"The point is, Miss Hattie, that what you heard isn't necessarily how Drayton feels."

"He did say it, didn't he?"

Reed shifted uncomfortably at that question. "Sometimes men say things in a group, Miss
Hattie, that
they would never say if they were thinking straight. Believe me, a bunch of men laughing and joking
are
going to go for boasting over honesty anytime."

With a strangled little laugh, she asked, "Is it normal to boast about marrying a woman for her farm?"

"Lots of men find their gentler feelings for a woman a little embarrassing. A fellow may say he likes her looks or he thinks she'll be a good helpmate, 'cause he
don't
want to say that she makes his hands shake like a green boy and that he's lonesome with all his friends around because she's not there."

Hattie felt a sudden stab of irrational jealousy that other women had men who felt that way about them. "You don't need to stir yourself to make excuses for him, Reed. I asked the man straight out, and he said his interest was in the farm."

"Idiot!" Reed spat the word like a curse beneath his breath. "Miss Hattie, I don't like to take up for the man," he went on after a moment. "You know I don't like him. I think he's a lousy, careless farmer, and I'd hate to see him put your rice field in cotton. But I don't want to be responsible for breaking you two up. I'm not willing to let you sacrifice your future for me."

The chords of the closing hymn interrupted Hattie's thoughts, and she stood for the benediction. She wondered about sacrificing her future. Had Reed already known that Bessie Jane was leaving him? Was that why the land was no longer important to him?

Perhaps she had been hasty giving away her only chance to be a wife and mother because of hurt pride. Had she truly believed
Ancil
was in love with her pretty face? Maybe Reed would go down to
Helena
now. That would certainly be easier on everybody, if Bessie Jane and Harmon did come back there to live. He wouldn't want the land, and then where would she be? No husband, no children—and looking for a new sharecropper.

It was wrong of
Ancil
to want to marry her for her farm, but the words Millie had spoken in her kitchen drifted back to her:

"Ten years from now, do you want to be right and alone or right and married?"

Speaking politely to various members of the congregation, Hattie left the church.
Ancil
was waiting for her beside her buggy.

He tipped his hat and smiled his usual gap-toothed smile. "May I drive you home, Miss Hattie?"

It took her only a moment. She shook her head. "I need some time to think about this,
Ancil
. I'll drive myself today, thank you."

He looked disappointed, but his smile faltered only slightly. "I was hoping I might call on you again," he said. "I know I've been a mite clumsy and I've tread upon your feelings, ma'am, but I would like to share a glass of lemonade with you sometime. Perhaps I can redeem myself."

She looked at him, wondering if she was really willing to give up her newfound role as wife and mother. She wasn't sure.

"You have my permission to call," she said at last. "However, we are no longer engaged. I'll need time to reconsider."

Ancil's
smile widened as he helped her up into the buggy.

"You take all the time you need, Miss Hattie. Why,
pickin
' season ain't even started."

* * *

The next two weeks were busy ones for Hattie. Her garden was at its peak, and she was frantically trying to get everything put by. Bushels of corn lay about the kitchen and porches waiting to be shucked, but the baskets of tomatoes, huge red orbs, were what had Hattie's attention today. Two big cauldrons of tangy tomato stew were already on the stove, and Hattie sat at the kitchen table ripping the peels off a huge pile of the blanched fruit.

Ancil
showed up two or three times a week. Mostly they sat on the porch swing and drank lemonade, but she had invited the family over for dinner last Sunday. The boys had built a Flying Jenny on an old stump not far from the house. Hattie had wondered about digging that stump out, but now she thought that perhaps there was no need. It was nice having all the children around, and she imagined what it would be like to have them living in her house permanently. But
Ancil
was still
Ancil
, and despite what Reed had said, it hurt to think that a man wanted her only for her farm—although she was convinced that he did take great enjoyment in stealing "
smoochy
-smooches" on the porch.

She'd hardly seen Reed since that day in the buggy. He kept to himself, working in the fields and, Hattie guessed, healing his wounds.