Heart of Mercy (Tennessee Dreams) (12 page)

She waved off her aunt’s scolds and looped her other hand around the woman’s arm. “The boys and I thought we’d drop in to find out what flavor cookies you’re offering today.”

Gladys clasped her hands at her waist and looked from one lad to the other, their eyes shining with hopeful glints. The woman chortled and hustled them all toward the steps leading up to the grand wraparound porch. “We best go lift the lid off that jar then and find out. Who’s goin’ to do the honors?”

“Me!” both children cried in unison.

Up the steps they raced, then waited at the door for permission to enter.
Such little gentlemen
, Mercy thought.
Why would Harold Beauchamp turn tail and run from the privileged opportunity to raise them?

Moreover, what possible reason could she come up with now for turning down Samuel Connors’ hand in marriage? Perhaps Aunt Gladys would have one for her.

It took a good hour before Mercy drummed up the courage to broach the subject, and, of course, she had to wait till John Roy and Joseph had scuttled outside to the tree swings in the backyard, where, even now, their voices carried over the breeze with gleeful shouts as Aunt Gladys’s hired hand, Harley Gleason, pushed them to the heights.

The women watched through the open window over the sink, Gladys rinsing off the platter on which she’d set ham sandwiches, carrot sticks, and chocolate mound cookies, and Mercy clutching a cold glass of water in both hands, at one point pressing it against her sweaty forehead for a moment of relief.

“’Twas a mighty nice surprise, you comin’ out to see me, dear.”

“Yes, but….” She had to search for the right words.

“But somethin’ else besides my bein’ your favorite kin brought you here, right? Don’t go thinkin’ you can fool the likes o’ me. You been fidgetin’ ever since you climbed off that rig. You gettin’ cold feet about marryin’ Mr. Beauchamp?”

Mercy drank the rest of her water, then set the empty glass in the sink. “I never could put one over on you, Aunt Gladdie. Can we go sit in the living room?”

“I’ve a better idea—let’s go perch ar hineys on the porch swing.”

Outside, the birds and squirrels created quite a racket, whether in harmony or dissonance, only the most dedicated nature lover would have the ability to distinguish. The ladies plunked themselves into the aged swing, and for the hundredth time, Mercy marveled at its strength. It seemed destined to break one of these days. She gazed at the rusted chains suspended from corroded bolts, and wondered how they’d held for so many years with nary a complaint, save for the familiar screech at every back-and-forth sway. It surely had served its generations well, rocking many an elder and baby into peaceful slumber. She settled back and allowed her aunt to shove off, joining her efforts as they kept the swing in motion.

“Okay, girlie. Spill it. What’s on y’r mind?”

“More than my little head can hold. Mr. Beauchamp changed his mind about marrying me.”

Aunt Gladys let out a low whistle. “I had a feelin’ he wasn’t quite cut out for that job. But, boy, he won’t have another opportunity as good as what you offered. Don’t think you would’ve been happy with ’im, anyways, honey. Plus, he’s too old for you. But I’ll go give ’im a good-sized piece o’ my mind, if you want me to.”

“Auntie!” Mercy put a hand to her stomach to hold back her chuckles. “You are the berries, I tell you. I appreciate your concern, but no, it won’t be necessary to give him any of your mind. At your age, you need every bit of it.”

Gladys stepped right over her attempt at humor. “So, what are you goin’ t’ do? You got less’n a week to find yourself a husband. Might be you’re goin’ to have to go up in them hills and fetch that toothless feller. What was his name again? Fester?”

“Close, but not quite. Festus. Festus Morton. And I wouldn’t marry him if my daddy raised himself out of the grave and ordered it.”

At that, Aunt Gladys’s face contorted with shock but quickly converted to amusement. She gave Mercy a friendly bump in the side. “Good gracious, girlie, the things you say!”

“Well, it’s true, Aunt Gladdie. You didn’t clap eyes on that—that malodorous critter.”

“And I’m thankful I didn’t. You explained him right good to me the followin’ Sunday in the churchyard.” Gladys gave the swing another push with her foot. “Well, what’s y’r next move?”

Mercy gulped a big swallow of air before proceeding. “Someone else has stepped forward, but I don’t know what you’ll say to it.”

Gladys brought the swing to a halt. “He ain’t older than the postmaster, I hope.”

“No. I think he’s right around thirty, so not that much older than I.”

“Well, what’s the big secret? Who is it?”

She pursed her lips so tightly, they stung, but then she blurted out, “Sam Connors! I know, it’s probably the most bizarre thing you’ve ever heard. Imagine—one of our family’s archenemies, proposing marriage. I’ve already turned him down, repeatedly, but he did save the boys’ lives, and he seems determined to help take care of them. I don’t know what to think of it all, but I’m beginning to grow a little desperate. I know it would probably create an awful stink in the family if….”

Aunt Gladys put a hand to Mercy’s knee and gave a gentle squeeze. “Well, if you’d shush your gabber for just a second or two, I might be able to get a word in edgewise.”

“Oh.” She clamped her lips shut, folded her hands in her lap, and stared down.

“Well, I got my reservations, o’ course,” she ventured. “You’re right about your relatives, and his, for that matter—they’d have a regular conniption. It could go either of two ways: make things worse than ever or calm the waters. I guess only time is goin’ to predict the outcome. My main concern is where Mr. Connors stands with the Lord.”

“He’s a Christian, I’ve no doubt about that. But he’s a weak one, and he’ll admit it.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ weak. Lord knows we all come out of the womb frail and needy. Can’t spend ar lives drinkin’ milk, though. Gotta get into the Word of God, our true meat source, and let it feed and nurture us, so’s we can grow and mature. I wouldn’t want you marryin’ someone that’s gonna drag you down in the spiritual sense.”

“He’s been reading his Bible and praying, more or less to appease me.”

“That’s a step in the right direction. And now, for my next question: What’s in this arrangement for Mr. Connors? Why exactly would he want to stir up a bees’ nest by marryin’ into the Evans clan?”

“I wondered the same. At first, I thought he was plumb loco—still do, to a point—but he made the comment that maybe our marrying would bring our families closer together, make them see how futile it is to continue this feud. Neither of us has ever fully understood it.”

“And it makes no matter if you do. What’s important is bringin’ it to a screechin’ halt. Your Mr. Connors may have a point.”

“Aunt Gladdie, he’s not ‘my’ Mr. Connors. Glory! We hardly even know each other, beyond saying hello and good-bye.”

“And, thanks to Judge Corbett, you won’t have the luxury of gettin’ acquainted till after the weddin’.”

Mercy gulped. “After the wedding? You mean…you think we should go through with it?”

“Humph.” Aunt Gladys folded her arms across her ample bosom and scanned the side yard, where the clothesline was strung, several of her skirts, blouses, and undergarments billowing in the breeze. “I barely knew my Chester when we got married, and our union wound up bein’ the best part of my life. Y’ shouldn’t put limits on what God can do when you fully trust His plans for you. It says in Jeremiah,
‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward
—
’
”

“I know just what that verse says. Sam Connors recited it to me just the other day.”

“Well, well. Right there’s your sign that it’s meant to be.”

“What?” Could it be that marrying Mr. Connors wasn’t as harebrained a notion as she’d once thought? She had asked the Lord to give her some sort of sign. Still…. “Oh, Auntie, I don’t even love him.”

The woman grinned. “I can’t say I loved my Chester in the beginnin’, either. I’ll be dad-burned if I even liked him much.”

At that, Mercy laughed. It was the first spurt of outright laughter she’d experienced since the fire—and it felt good.

“What’s funny?” John Roy asked, running around the corner of the house, Joseph chasing after, both of them red in the face from exertion. Harley Gleason appeared, as well, shovel in hand. He dipped his head at Mercy. “Miss Evans. Good seein’ y’ again.”

“Hello, Mr. Gleason. Thanks for taking time out of your busy day to push the boys on the swings. It warmed my heart to hear them laughing.”

The man removed his hat and wiped his bald head with his sleeve. “’Tweren’t nothin’. Them swings don’t get near the use they once did. I been thinkin’ ’bout takin’ ’em down, but after hearin’ your youngsters’ happy squeals, I guess I’ll leave ’em be.”

Mercy’s heart leaped at his referring to the boys as “her” youngsters.

“O’ course you’ll leave them swings be, Harley Gleason,” Aunt Gladys said. “I got grandchildren, you know, and another one on the way. Besides, y’ never can tell when I might get the hankerin’ to go out there myself and swing to the treetops. I ain’t too old for swingin’.”

Harley gave a full-out grin, his teeth white as pearls against his cocoa skin. “No, ma’am, you ain’t. Yo’ jest seasoned.”

The porch swing shook with Aunt Gladys’s cackles. “If I’m seasoned, then you’re well-done!” The two laughed heartily in unison. They’d been friends since Harley’s first day at the Froeling farm, long before Mercy was born. She remembered him from her childhood, always hardworking and full of joy.

Harley returned to his work, and the boys bounded down the steps, then commenced spinning in circles in the front yard. Gladys pressed her hands to her knees and pushed up, then turned and offered a hand to Mercy, as if she were the one in need of assistance. Mercy took her wrinkled hand, finding the grip firm yet warm. “You best be on your way, child. I believe you have to pay a call on your betrothed.”

Mercy’s heart pounded with unprecedented panic. “Oh, Auntie, I don’t know about this.”

Still clenching her hand, Gladys pressed her other palm on top and gave a gentle squeeze. “It’ll work out fine, dear. As for the family, don’t pay them no mind. Gotta think of them boys first. My only request is this: Let me come and witness y’r vows. I want to put my blessin’ on them.”

Her blessing on their nuptials? It was more than she could have ever dreamed. Even if the earth beneath the graves of Oscar Evans and Ernest Connors would quake and rumble in protest.

11

Y
ou’re going to
what
? Samuel David Connors, you can’t possibly be serious. Marrying that woman would bring utter disgrace on our family! I demand you tell her to look elsewhere for a husband. I don’t care if you did save those boys from that house fire; they are not your charges. You will drop this ridiculous plan immediately!”

Sam shrugged. “Sorry, Mother. We’ve already made arrangements with the reverend.”

“Then you will unmake your arrangements.”

Good grief, she could be an ear-piercer. But Sam started to load his belongings into the crates and valises he’d carried up to his room, determined not to let her get the better of him this time. She’d been ordering him around for thirty years, and he’d had his fill.

“What are you doing?”

“Movin’ to Mercy’s house.”

“You—you’re going to live with that woman outside of the bonds of marriage?”

“No, of course not. I’m just packin’ my things so they’re ready for Saturday.”

“You’re marrying her
this
Saturday? What on earth has gotten into you, Samuel? You used to have a level head.” Suddenly she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my. It’s that fire, isn’t it? All that smoke inhalation did permanent damage to your mind. Have you talked to Dr. Trumble about it?”

Without casting her a glance, he picked up a pair of socks and tossed them into a suitcase. “There’s nothing wrong with my reasoning abilities. I’m merely doing the right thing.”

“The right thing, you say? You think marrying that—that
Evans
woman is proper and right? She’s a…a….”

He whirled around. “Be careful what you say, Mother. She’s gonna be your daughter-in-law.”

She made an awful rumbling noise deep in her throat that would have scared off a bear. “This is the most asinine thing you’ve ever done, Samuel. Whose idea was this, anyway? Hers, no doubt. She’s probably had her eyes on you since the night of the fire when she brought you into her house—I never did approve of that, you know. And then, all those hours she spent with you at Dr. Trumble’s clinic….”

He turned and gave her a wily grin. “You really think she’s had her eyes on me? I rather like the sound o’ that.”

“Oh, stop it. This is no joking matter.”

“No, it isn’t.” He went back to sorting through his dresser drawers.

“How did she go about convincing you to marry her, for heaven’s sake? I suppose she turned on that Evans charm.”

He stopped shuffling through the drawer. “Evans charm?”

“You know what I mean. Did she bait you? Bat her eyes at you? Coo into your ear and make ridiculous promises?”

He straightened and crinkled his brow at her. “Actually, Mother, she did none of those things. In truth, I wooed her…if you can call it that.”

“Pssh!” She slapped the air and scowled. “I cannot believe you would pursue any woman with
that
last name.”

“Why do you hate the Evanses so much?” He held up a holey undershirt, then tossed it into the trash pile.

“I don’t understand how you could ask such a question. You know our families have been fighting for generations.”

“Yes, but why, exactly? I know it started with our grandfathers, but why drag it on long after their deaths?”

She narrowed her eyes, her frown deepening. “I am in no mood for talking about this now.”

“You’re never in a mood for talkin’ about it, which makes the feud all the more ridiculous in my mind. Nobody talks about it. My cousins go along with it, but they have no more understandin’ of the muddle than I do. It’s just that their parents instilled in them their hatred of the Evans clan—somethin’ you failed to do, despite your best efforts. I’m not your puppet, Mother. Never have been.”