Diann Ducharme (29 page)

She lifted her head to nuzzle my face. She smelled powerfully of ocean water on horsehair. I ran my hands over her smoothed-up coat and scratched behind her ears.

“So you charm wild horses, too. Is there anything you won’t do?”

It was Hector’s crisp voice, cutting through the lazy air. I turned around to see him, too well dressed in a dark gray suit and black vest and holding his black top hat. His black shoes were half visible beneath the sand.

His voice had sounded sarcastic, but I saw that he was amused.

With great difficulty, I arranged my face into a smile. “Good afternoon. You surprise me, calling on me in such an informal location. It isn’t like you.”

He arched an eyebrow at me. “I do apologize. I thought you, of all women, would appreciate the lack of decorum in my visit.”

I laughed shallowly and wrapped my arms around my chest. “You seem a bit overdressed for the occasion, if I may say so. Beachcombers don’t usually feel the need of a top hat.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps my choice of ensemble would seem overdone, if one did not suspect the reason of the visit.”

My smile collapsed. Of course, Hector had come with a distinct purpose in mind. I doubted sincerely that he had ventured onto the beach during his entire month on the island.

He held out his arm for me, a perfect ninety-degree angle to his body. “Let’s promenade.”

As we strolled slowly down the beach, my head pulsed in panic. I couldn’t say a word for fear of encouraging him to reveal the purpose of his visit. But thankfully, Hector seemed preoccupied with the sand in his shoes, and practically let out a yelp when the surf threatened his feet.

After a few minutes of self-conscious trudging, though, he seemed to remember himself. He stopped walking and let go of my arm. “It’s time to face the facts, Abigail. The summer is almost at an end, and your family will be returning to Edenton.”

I felt small and helpless, like a crab that has lost its hole in the sand.

He continued, “Although what you will be returning to in Edenton is far from ideal. Your father’s plantation is struggling mightily, as I’m sure you know. He may not be able to keep it. And I’m not sure what will become of you and your family if you lose your land.”

I turned my head away from him to see the red horse continuing
on her way through the surf. I watched her hindquarters jealously. “We’re not going to lose the plantation. Daddy has been working hard this summer to avoid that. He says we are going to have a bountiful crop this year.”

He patronized, “But who will harvest it? You? Charlie and Martha? Who will pay the sky-high taxes on the land? The whole of Edenton knows your father’s situation by now. He is no longer the planter king, I’m sorry to say.” The facts, as Hector presented them, sounded as fearful as a rocky cliff. I felt tears begin to prick my eyes, but he kept on talking. “And you are of marrying age. You aren’t a little girl anymore. And it’s time for you to take yourself, and your family’s situation, more seriously.”

He took my hand in his strangely cool one and gazed at me. He said softly, “I have always considered you to be the most beautiful girl in Edenton. In fact, I have had trouble finding any women that rival you, even in the Northeast. You are splendidly radiant.”

The tears spilled down my cheeks, and I swiped at them with my free hand. I couldn’t stop myself from trembling.

He got down on one knee, slowly, arthritically, and still gripping my hand. He looked up at me. “Abigail, I would be honored if you would consent to become my wife.”

I stared at him, at his too-soft lips that many women would die to kiss, and wished powerfully for the sand to swallow me whole. I couldn’t speak for fear of sobbing.

He smiled, apparently thinking I was emotional with happiness. “I’ll wait until you can answer me with words.”

I wrenched my hand away from his covetous grip and covered my tear-stained face with my hands. I said through clenched teeth, “I can’t marry you, Hector.”

He got off his knee abruptly, his eyes bulging with fury and his hands twitching, as if he wanted to hurt me with them.

“
Who do you think you are?
You will have no more marriage proposals, Abigail!” he raged. “You are too unconventional—quite peculiar, if you want to know the truth. And no one will want such a wayward woman, with no family estate! Your parents have spoiled you with too much leniency. The tutoring of Benjamin Whimble! Failure to chaperone you! And this cottage by the sea! It’s the most ludicrous structure I’ve ever seen! I believe your parents have quite lost their minds!” He was spitting, he was so angry. “You WILL marry me, Abigail. There is no question about that. Your parents will insist. Even they know the state of things, you can be sure. I am to be a doctor soon! A refusal would be madness.”

The angrier Hector became, the calmer I grew. “Why would you want to marry someone who doesn’t want you?”

He sniffed grandly. “Of course you want me. Giving me the mitten is just another one of your silly charades, to keep me interested in you.”

“As a matter of fact, I hardly know you well enough to say that I want you. And you don’t know
me
. From everything you’ve said today, I’d think you would find those proper Northeast beauties satisfactory enough. I’d have thought you’d have run for Yankee territory weeks ago.”

He frowned. “I know you well enough, I think. I know you like lilies, horses, sand dunes, and chocolate cake …”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “But you don’t really
know
me, know what makes me happy or sad, or thrills me or scares me. I will never understand the desire to spend your life with a person you don’t even really know. It seems like a great, pointless waste of time.”

He stared at me uncomprehendingly. “I’m sorry to bring you to reality, but that is what marriage is, in the end. It is no parade, no vacation at the
beach
, for heaven’s sake.”

I shook my head. “It’s what I want, Hector. Perhaps I
am
too unconventional for you.”

He reached down for his top hat and placed it carefully on his head. “I plan to call on you only once more, but back in Edenton. This god-awful place has mottled your brain. Perhaps back at home, surrounded by sadness and ruin, you’ll reconsider your answer.”

Then he stumped back up the shore, cursing the sand with every step. I watched him go until his top hat was a very small black smudge.

The night air in the room hardly moved at all, although the windows were wide open. The bed linens were damp and stuck to my skin, making it itch. Even with my nightgown hitched up to my thighs, I felt pressed down, uncomfortable.

I was doomed now, for sure. When Mama and Daddy heard that I had refused a proposal of marriage from Hector, I would likely be disowned and cast out of the house. I thought of myself wandering the beaches of the Outer Banks, with scraggly hair covering my naked breasts, shucking oysters and milking cows for my sustenance.

I turned my head on the pillow, my hair sticking to my neck in the heat. Charlie’s and Martha’s sleeping faces were flushed, their cheeks slick with spit. At least
they
slept well here, in Nags Head.

I thought of what it might feel like to submerge my body in the cool, quiet depths of the Fresh Ponds, to forget the whole world for a few moments and let my body drift and sink amid thousands of years of rain water.

I stroked the insides of my thighs, savoring the imaginary feel of the water groping along the curves. And I saw Ben’s face, felt his strong arms helping me through the water. Just settling my mind on
the essence of him made my breath quicken and my calves tingle. And I knew what it was that I now wanted.

I wanted Ben to teach me how to swim.

The next evening, Ben agreed that I needed to learn how to swim in a depth of water deeper than a bathing tub, so the following morning I climbed the steps to the warm upstairs bedroom, where Mama was curled into a hump under the bed linens.

“I’m off to the Fresh Ponds with Maddie and the rest. I’ll return for supper.”

Her voice came out muffled. “And will Hector accompany you?”

“I believe so, yes,” I lied.

She unfurled herself and turned to me, and poking her head out of the covers, she actually smiled, a slight blurring of her scarlet lips. “I imagine he’ll be proposing to you soon, Abigail. Wear your best dress today. That skirt and shirtwaist aren’t appropriate at all.”

I looked down at my old brown skirt and the white shirtwaist that I thought would be perfect for a quick walk in the woods before swimming.

“All right, then.”

She just lay calmly in bed, watching me. It didn’t feel quite right, leaving her up here all by herself.

I asked, “Do you want any other books to read? I’ve got plenty downstairs.”

She reached for the Bible beside her. “Oh, no. This is the only book I need now.”

I nodded, thinking she already must have read it hundreds of times through this summer. Before I left, I walked to her and kissed her
lightly on her warm cheek, trying to imagine the spurned daughter of immigrants buried deep inside her.

I went to my bedroom to change into one of my best day dresses, a pale pink, short-sleeved cotton and silk piece with little embroidered rosettes along the hem. I forgot the corset and hoop, though, so the dress didn’t look quite right. But I hardly cared. I tied a bonnet onto my head and left for the Fresh Ponds, carrying a basket with my heavy flannel bathing costume and some corn bread, apples, and a canteen of water.

The cool woods were empty of visitors so early in the morning. Without the incessant chatter of human voices, the air was still and clean. The towering greenery made its own kind of noise, a vibrating hum that was felt and not heard. Great cumulus clouds roamed the skies, occasionally blocking out the sun.

In the reflection of Great Pond, I saw myself, my red hair and pink dress garish next to the serene greens and blues around me. As I stood looking into the clear water, I heard Ben crack through the leaves that had fallen dry onto the sand. His brown face appeared beside mine in the pond.

“Where’s the parade?” he joked, grabbing a handful of skirt.

Hector’s proposal lingered unknown in the air between us like a bad odor, so I hurriedly removed the bathing costume from the basket and looked around for a place to change my clothing. I walked over to a nearby cedar tree, but its circumference was too thin to hide me completely. “Turn your back.”

“Can’t I just close my eyes? You don’t trust me not to look?” he said playfully.

“No, I don’t. It’ll only take a minute.”

He turned away from me. “All righty, then. Let me know if you need any help.”

I first removed my shoes and stockings. Then I unfastened the closures along the back and slid the sleeves down. With some awkwardness amid the branches and leaves, I stepped out of the heavy dress and draped it over a low branch. Then I slid my chemise over my head, baring my breasts. Finally I unfastened my pantalettes and, with some hesitation, bunched them down to my ankles and stepped out of them.

And there I stood, naked for any passerby to see. I felt the cool air caress my buttocks and tease the hair between my legs.

With one eye on Ben’s back, I stepped into the gray Turkish pants. Then I pulled my arms through the sleeves of the paletot and buttoned it up the front. The entire costume hung on me like a blanket.

“Okay. What do you think?” I said, holding out the material of the dress on either side of me.

He turned around to look at me. Then he started laughing until the tears pooled in his eyes. He couldn’t even speak.

“I’m so glad that I amuse you,” I said, a blush washing over my face.

He doubled over, clutching his midsection. “I’m sorry, Abby, I really am. But how in tarnation do you expect to learn how to swim wearing all that cloth?”

I sighed and looked down at the hideous thing whose fibers made every inch of my skin itch. I hated everything about it. “I suppose I could just wear my underthings.”

He straightened up quickly, all the laughter gone. “Okay by me.”