Garters.htm (4 page)

After grabbing up his thick wool coat from the hook and dousing the light from the one coal-oil lamp, Cleav headed for home.

He took a circuitous route, walking along the ridges of the numerous small ponds that he'd dug in the marshy bottom land between the store and the river. The fish swimming in those pools were his true work, or at least he liked to think so. Storekeeping might be his vocation, but natural science was his avocation.

Darkness precluded any investigation this evening, but he already knew what was going on beneath the surface of each still, small pool. He smiled to himself, thinking of the gentle silence of the water and the scores of trout eggs to be harvested next fall. Someday he hoped his work with trout would be known to fish
culturists worldwide. Perhaps in the distant future a new species might carry his name. The Nolichucky Rhy Trout, he postulated. The idea brought a whistle to his lips.

When he approached the house, he noticed a lamp was lit in the parlor. Clearly it meant guests for dinner, and he hurried his walk. Taking the porch steps two at a time, he saw a young woman's head inside the parlor window, her crowning glory neatly twisted into a topknot of flaming red.

Not red, he corrected himself quickly. Ladies do not have red hair, only strawberry-blond.

Stepping into his foyer, he hung his coat on the elaborate wooden hall tree and checked his reflection in the mirror. His hair on his forehead had formed errant curls, and he hastily pushed it back into place. He hesitated only momentarily to run his hand across the fine mahogany finish of the hall tree's umbrella rail. Like every piece of furniture in his house, it had been brought over the mountain for the specific purpose of conveying fashion and good taste.

"Good evening, ladies," Cleav said to the three women as he stepped into the door, but his eyes immediately sought only the lovely Miss Sophrona.

"Cleavis, dear," his mother said. "Finally you're home. I feared we'd be waiting dinner on you all night."

Cleav didn't need to check his watch to know that it was no more than a quarter after six, his usual time to return from the store.

"I'm here now," he commented agreeably and seated himself in a stuffed horsehair chair, near—but not too near—Miss Sophrona.

"The Reverend Tewksbury has gone to sit up with Miz Latham," his mother continued. "Poor old thing, she's about dead herself, and now her man's took sick."

Cleav nodded with appropriate gravity.

"We, of course, are blessed that dear Mrs. Tewksbury and her precious daughter can therefore spend the evening with us."

"Doubly blessed," Cleav said and then cast a glance at Miss Sophrona, who was blushing prettily.

Unbidden, an image sprang to mind of a long slim leg encased in black wool. He was so surprised at the unexpected and inappropriate image that it must have shown upon his face. Miss Sophrona glanced at him curiously.

Quickly trying to recover himself, Cleav turned to Mrs. Tewksbury. "So what pleasant pursuits have you ladies been discussing? A new quilting pattern, perhaps? Or something more serious, such as… ah… the actual versus the symbolic meaning of John's Revelations?"

Mrs. Tewksbury beamed with approval. She was very proud of her deep and sublimely metaphysical understanding of the Bible. In fact, the woman was virtually certain that her husband, Reverend Tewksbury, knew absolutely nothing by comparison.

"Mrs. Rhy and I were just discussing the parable of the twelve virgins and how such careful Christian planning could be translated to charity to the less fortunate of our own community."

Smiling politely, Cleave turned to the attractive strawberry-blonde on the divan. "And Miss Sophrona, what bit of wisdom did you offer to this discussion?"

Lowering her eyes humbly, Sophrona's voice was sweet and almost childlike in its clarity. " 'For I was hungred, and ye gave me meat. I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink. I was a stranger, and ye took me in. I was…'"

Sophrona stopped, her face flaming with color. She glanced toward her mother without uttering another word.

Cleavis realized immediately that Miss Sophrona's hesitance concerned the next line of the verse:"Naked and you clothed me." It was without a doubt not to be spoken by one such as Miss Sophrona. He was sure no one could ever imagine such a thing!

Like a heroic knight for a damsel in distress, Cleav quickly covered the gaffe. "It's interesting that you ladies should be discussing charity this evening. I had a visitor to the store today, sorely in need, I believe."

Grateful for his rescue, Sophrona showed an inordinate excess of interest. "Whoever could it have been?" she asked.

"One of Yohan Crabb's girls," Cleav answered, then he discovered to his surprise that he didn't wish to elaborate.

"One of those twins!" Mrs. Tewksbury shook her head in exasperation and gave Mrs. Rhy a concerned glance. "I don't know whatever we will do with those two."

"No, not one of the twins," Cleav hastily corrected. "The other one, Esme she's called."

"Ah." Mrs. Tewksbury shook her head wisely. "She's a good girl, that one. Must be a throwback to her mother's side of the family."

Eula Rhy's forehead creased into a frown."I do hope that you haven't allowed them to run up more credit. There is no chance in the world that they would ever pay." Smiling at her guest, Mrs. Rhy added, "Dear Cleavis is so soft-hearted, I swear he'd give away the store if he thought somebody needed it."

Cleav bristled slightly under the criticism. "If folks are hungry, we have to feed them, Mother, that's not even a question for discussion."

"If the Crabbs are hungry,'' his mother suggested coldly, "it's because that old man won't work. The Bible says the Lord helps those who help themselves."

"Actually, that's not in the Bible," Sophrona corrected gently. "But it does say to 'consider the lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do they spin. Yet Solomon in air his glory was not arrayed like one of these.'"

Mrs. Rhy was so dumbfounded by the unexpected rebuke that she didn't respond.

"Actually, the young woman didn't ask for anything," he told them. He gave his mother an appeasing glance. "Nonetheless, I clearly let her know that business with her family would have to be on strictly a cash or barter basis."

"Then whyever did she come down the mountain?" Mrs. Tewksbury asked.

In his memory Cleav distinctly heard the words "
You wanna marry me
?"

"I have no idea," he answered. "But she was certainly looking poorly. It occurred to me that this late in the year they must be pretty low on winter stores. It's a good two months before they'll get so much as a potato from the ground."

"Oh, then we must get up a basket for them," Sophrona said with genuine sweetness. "Thank you so much for mentioning it, Mr. Rhy." Her voice lowered to a shy whisper. "I will make it my personal duty this week to bring this need to the attention of the Ladies' Auxiliary."

Miss Sophrona's sincere goodness was so powerful that Mrs. Rhy quickly forgot her previous irritation. Once again she beamed at the young woman.

"Such a precious daughter you have," she told Mrs. Tewksbury.

'"Raise up a child in the way he should go,'" the preacher's wife quoted proudly. The two women gazed fondly at their children. The handsomely dressed Cleav was nodding approvingly at the sweetly blushing Sophrona, who smiled back at him shyly.

"Mayhap we should leave these two alone," Mrs. Rhy suggested in a whisper."Would you care to help me get our supper on the table?"

Cleavis rose politely as the women left the room and then,with only a moment's hesitation, seated himself on the divan next to Sophrona.

The young lady continued to face the front, her eyes on the pale lavender hankie that she nervously twisted in her hand. Her hands were beautiful, pale and unlined, with tiny little childlike fingers. It was not, however, her hands that captured Cleav's regard. Miss Sophrona was a diminutive woman, no higher than a fence post. If she'd been standing next to Cleav, the top of her head would have come no higher than his heart. But what heaven had robbed from her in stature, it had repaid in abundance. As with every opportunity Cleav had to observe her, his gaze unerringly went to the overgenerous outpouring of firm feminine flesh that was Sophrona Tewksbury's bosom.

This evening that blatant attraction was modestly covered with a lavender dotted-swiss bodice, its neatly stitched pleats designed to disguise the beauty that just couldn't be hidden.

Remembering propriety, Cleav tore his attention from the lushly rounded curves of the preacher's daughter and forced himself to speak civilly. "Do you think we'll be seeing any more snow this year?" he asked.

She gave him a shy glance. " 'It's not for you to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath put in his own power."'

Cleav nodded. "Just so." After a moment's hesitation he began again. "Mother told me that the ladies of the church are planning a social."

"Yes,'' Sophrona admitted.'"For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.'" When the gentleman at her side raised a quizzical eyebrow, she added, "It's still too cool for ice cream, so we're thinking of a taffy pull."

Cleav cleared his throat slightly and then issued a polite invitation. "I would be honored, Miss Sophrona, to be allowed to escort you."

Sophrona twisted the handkerchief to such a state, it by rights should have been torn to pieces. "'Thou has given me my heart's desire.'" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Uncomfortable with the sudden serious turn of the conversation, Cleave grasped at his thoughts, searching for potential topics of conversation.

"I received a letter today from a Mr. Simmons. He's a gentleman from New England, who's with the American Fish Culturists Association."

"Oh?" Sophrona's reply held only the mildest pretense of curiosity.

"Yes," Cleav continued eagerly. "It seems that Mr. Simmons heard about my trout-breeding experiments from Mr. Westbrook of the U.S. Deputy Fish Commissioner's office. The two were fellows together at Yale."

"How nice."

"Wonderful, actually." Cleav leaned back against the cushions of the divan and comfortably crossed his legs. "Mr. Simmons is active in the Fish Restoration Movement and is very excited about the prospects of what I've been able to do here on the Nolichucky."

"We're all very proud of your work, Mr. Rhy," Sophrona said gently.

Looking across at the unmistakably bored expression on the young woman's face, Cleav's lips broadened into the wide smile that had the power to melt her heart.

"My dear Miss Sophrona," he said. "How generous you are to allow me to ramble on about my fish. You are much too polite to remind me that ladies care nothing for the spawning and rearing of piscis Salmonidae."

Her answer was an impish little giggle that further endeared her to him. Slowly and with due gravity and consideration, Cleavis took her tiny hand in his own and brought it to his mouth, very lightly grazing the first knuckle with his lips.

"Oh, Mr. Rhy!" she protested breathlessly. But she continued to allow him to hold her hand until they were called to supper.

"Well, it's about time you showed up!" Esme said, greeting her sisters less than favorably as they walked through the front door only a few seconds before full dark.

"Evening, Miss Esme," a male voice called out behind them.

"Saves to graces! I thought you two would have more sense than to invite him to dinner," she scolded the twins.

Armon Hightower gave a good-natured laugh as he walked through the door. "Now, don't get in an uproar, Miss Esme."

Hightower was long and well muscled, as fair of face as any girl ever dreamed, and his coal-black hair was only slightly less dramatic than his heavily lash-fringed dark blue eyes.

"I don't come to your table empty-handed," he said proudly as he threw the dead carcasses of two squirrels upon the kitchen table. "I shot these for the girls while we were out."

"I would have thought you'd have had time to clean them," Esme said unkindly.

Hightower laughed as if Esme had just told a good joke. "Now, Miss Esme, you needn't take on so. Next time we'll take you with us."

It was as blatant a lie as ever was told, but Esme chose to ignore it

She glanced over at the two stiffening squirrels with distaste. Food, however, was food, and she was grateful for it even when it came from a no-account like Armon Hightower. "Thank you for bringing the meat," she choked out politely. "I'll have them skinned and a-roasting in two shakes."

The evening was a long one, with Armon's gift for gab and way with a story keeping both the twins and her father rousingly entertained. Esme didn't have an opportunity to speak to her sisters until the young man finally left and the girls began their preparations for bed.

"Why in the world would you two run off from your chores like that?" Esme demanded.

"Esme, we just couldn't help ourselves,'' Agrippa said in protest.

"That Armon." Adelaide pulled the cotton flour-sack nightgown over her head. "I swear he could talk the leaves off the trees. It's just pure-d hard to say no to the man."

"Well, I hope you both still are!" Esme exclaimed in an aggravated whisper.

The twins burst out in giggles and collapsed joyfully onto the worn straw tick. "Esme, I swear, you're too silly," Adelaide finally had the breath to tell her."If anyone knows about handling men, it's me and Agrippa."

Agrippa sat up on the bed and took Esme's hands in her own. "Little Sister, if you're thinking to give us the 'won't buy a cow when milk's for free' lecture, you're a little late," she said. "Adelaide and I have been practicing what you preach since before you knew what made men's trousers so downright interesting."

Giggling again, the two began to tease Esme mercilessly. "You may know all about putting in a garden and running a house and cooking and such, Esmeralda," Adelaide told her. "But when it comes to the male of the species, there's no chance that you'll ever be more
than our baby sister."

"Adelaide and I have already
forgot
more about men than you'll be able to learn in a lifetime."