Love Finds You in Poetry, Texas (7 page)

“I say that...” He paused, tugged at his collar, and then shrugged. “I say this is a matter for prayer.”

“Indeed,” Belinda said with a nod. Finally, someone with a bit of logic. “I agree wholeheartedly. And in the meantime, let’s all share a story about Poetry, something to make our guest feel welcome.”

She turned her attention to redirecting the conversation. Surely the Lord could make sense of all of this...with a little time and a lot of prayer.

Georg looked across the table, not at Corabelle, whose attentions were given over to James, but to Belinda. While he sensed her frustration with the situation, Georg couldn’t help feeling a little betrayed. Had she—or had she not—implied that Corabelle might be available for courting?

Looking at James, Georg came to the very short conclusion that James would carry this thing through till the very end. Still, Georg couldn’t give up on the idea that he should try to woo Corabelle, as well. Belinda would help him. She seemed to know a lot about such things. From the time they were in school together, she’d played the role of matchmaker. And several of her matches had actually led to happy endings. Take their childhood friends, Mary Lou and Tad, for example. Belinda had done a fine job of pairing them up. Were they not happily married with a baby on the way?

Yes, this would simply take a bit more work. But with Belinda at his side and the Lord smiling on, Georg would surely accomplish the task.

On the Sunday after Corabelle’s arrival, the local Presbyterian congregation held a picnic on the grounds after the morning service. Belinda settled onto a quilt with her mother and the twins, looking about for Corabelle and James. They’d been missing for ten minutes, at least. How was Belinda supposed to shift her new friend’s attentions to Georg if she kept disappearing with James?

Belinda reached for her fan, overcome by the heat. These midsummer picnics were a great idea in theory, but the heat often altered the mood of those in attendance, especially on days like today when the temperature soared into the upper nineties. Belinda watched as her papa brought the picnic basket from the wagon and set it on the colorful quilt. She scooted over to help Mama pour some lemonade. Settling back, she took a long, cool drink, enjoying its tangy sweetness.

A few minutes later, Georg appeared, looking quite dapper in his Sunday suit and hat. My, but he looked especially handsome. The better to win the lady with. He eased himself down onto the blanket next to Belinda, his gaze darting across the church lawn. She knew, of course, who he was looking for.

“So...”

“I know.” Belinda shook her head and whispered the rest, holding her fan up so that no one would be the wiser. “Surely they will turn up shortly. I have it on good authority that James took her to meet the pastor. I do hope that’s true.” Her mother opened the picnic basket and began to unpack their lunch.

Georg gave her a knowing look. “Could I have a moment of your time away from the group?”

“Certainly.” She folded her fan, fussed with her skirts, and, with Georg’s help, rose to her feet. “Mama, I will be back shortly.”

Her mother gazed up with a curious look on her face. “Take your time, Belinda. It will take me awhile to get things unpacked. Papa will help.”

Her father glanced up with a nod. “Go on, you two. But be back soon. You don’t want to miss Mama’s fried chicken and biscuits.”

Belinda smiled as she took Georg’s proffered arm. They strolled beyond the groups of people, Georg whispering all the while. “I require your help, Belinda,” he said, keeping his focus straight ahead.

“Oh?” She gazed at him, confused. “What can I do?”

He prompted her to keep walking. Clearly, he did not want others to glean anything from their conversation. “I’ve given this a great deal of thought. In fact, I’ve scarcely slept all week. I need to woo Corabelle, but I don’t have a clue where to begin. She’s from the city and is accustomed to fine things and fine words. She needs to be romanced. I am not a man of words. And surely you can see that I am not the romantic sort.”

“Well, of course you are!” Belinda stopped and gazed at him, astounded at his confession. “Why, you’re the kindest, most thoughtful man I know.”

“Thoughtfulness and romance are not one and the same,” he debated.

“On the contrary.” She took his arm, and they began to walk once again. “I find it quite romantic when a man is thoughtful.”

“Still, I believe something more is required here.” He paused and gazed into her eyes for a moment. “Surely the only way to win Corabelle’s heart is through a poem. A...well, a love poem.”

“Oh, marvelous idea!” Belinda practically squealed. “Have you written one?”

He groaned. “I tried, but it sounds ridiculous. I thought maybe you could help.” He paused a moment. “In exchange for your help, I will cover the cost of Corabelle’s train ticket. Greta told me that you paid for it yourself, and I want to do what I can to help, since you’ve obviously arranged all of this for me.”

Belinda felt her cheeks turn warm. She opened her fan once again. “I do hope you will forgive me for that. It was rather presumptuous, I know. But I’m thrilled that you have taken an interest in her. That’s wonderful news. Of course I will help you. Just show me what you have written and we will build on it.”

Georg gestured toward the steps in front of the church, and they both took a seat. He pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket and slid it her way. “This is it.” He shrugged. “Not much.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” She skimmed over the page and then began to read aloud, using her most romantic voice:

Oh, lady fair

With golden hair

And winsome smile

You’ve crossed the miles

To meet me here

And now, my dear,

I offer you

My heart so true

Belinda paused and gazed at Georg with new admiration. “Georg! This is lovely.”

He sighed. “Do you think? The ending needs some work, wouldn’t you agree? Seems rather open-ended. And what am I offering her, after all?” He rose and began to pace, finally turning back to Belinda. “You see my dilemma? How can I say I’m giving my heart to a total stranger? I don’t even know my own heart yet.”

Belinda rose and put her hand on Georg’s shoulder. “Well, of course you do.” She placed her palm against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. With a smile, she added, “Don’t you see? It’s been with you all along. If anyone can read its messages, you can.” For a moment, she held quite still, feeling the beat of his heart against her hand. Then, realizing that a couple of youngsters were looking on, she pulled back. “So sorry.”

“No.” He shook his head and gave her a funny look. “No apology necessary. You’re trying to help.”

“Yes, well, let’s get busy on this poem, shall we?” She took a seat once more and read the words of the letter. “What are you thinking for the end? If you’re not offering her your heart, then what?”

Georg sighed. “That’s just it. I don’t know. Maybe my time? My attentions?”

“Yes, I think that will do.” Belinda stared at the page once again. “Though I’m not quite sure what rhymes with attentions.” She chewed on that problem for a bit. Suddenly an idea came to her. “I know what we can do. Tomorrow, when we’re both on our lunch breaks, we should visit Peter Conrad at the bookstore.”

“Of course.” Georg looked over with a hopeful expression. “He’s the best poet in town.” After a moment’s pause, his enthusiasm seemed to wane, however. “On the other hand, I don’t know that I care to expose my feelings—if that’s what they are—to Peter. What if word gets around town?”

“I think Peter can be trusted,” Belinda said. “But if you are concerned, I will go to him myself and ask for his help in advance, and then we can meet with him at an appropriate time. I know he will give it. He’s our town’s poet laureate, after all! Corabelle will never know that he helped.”

“Hmm.” Georg sighed. “I don’t wish to be deceptive.”

“No, you won’t be. Don’t you see?” She gazed into his eyes, overcome with excitement. “You’ve laid the foundation with what you’ve already written. He will build on it, but it will still be yours. And I promise, Corabelle won’t see it until you put your stamp of approval on it. Agreed?” She stuck out her hand.

Georg paused a moment then slowly extended his hand. “I suppose that would be all right.”

“Wonderful! Just watch and see what the Lord does, Georg! I have a feeling He’s up to something mighty big here!” As she spoke the words, Belinda looked up and discovered the widow Hanson and Samuel Bromstead walking side-by-side and talking. Wonder of wonders! The Lord really was up to something here. Something grand!

Overcome with joy, she folded the paper and tucked it into her waistband, far from watchful eyes. Then she linked her arm through Georg’s and they made their way back across the church lawn to join her family for dinner on the grounds.

Georg couldn’t help but feel that something was amiss all through the meal. It wasn’t just the fact that Corabelle scarcely looked his way. It was the overwhelming sense that James might very well take his head off if he dared to engage her in conversation. Well, he would do his best, regardless. By the time they’d finished their dessert, Georg had worked up the courage to open his mouth.

“Might I have a few minutes of your time, Miss Corabelle?” he asked as he swallowed down the last of his peach cobbler and lemonade.

She turned from a giddy conversation with James to respond. “Why, certainly, Georg.”

Moments later, the couple walked arm in arm beneath the overhanging trees. Finally, Georg could speak his mind. Only, when he tried to, the words stuck in his throat. Something about being next to this beauty caused him to lose his ability to think clearly. Or to string two words together in a sensible sentence. He found himself babbling...about the weather, the barbershop, and other ridiculous nonsense. He would’ve slapped himself if she hadn’t been watching.

Corabelle, ever gracious, appeared to play along, but he could tell that her heart wasn’t really in it. Only when they rounded the back side of the church and met James face-to-face did her eyes light up.

“Do you mind?” James asked, with a twinkle in his eye. “Miss Corabelle and I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

Georg nodded on the outside, but inside his heart twisted. Looked like it might take something more than a poem to woo this big-city beauty.

Not that it would make much difference. No, as he observed the way she came alive in James’s presence, as he caught a glimpse of the undeniable sparkle in her eye, Georg had to ask himself a question: “She is a beautiful woman...but is she the woman for me?”