Summer Lightning (26 page)

“Describe her to me and I shall consult the spirit guides.”

“Oh, I’m on fire for her. She’s three feet tall, and moonfaced. Has a cast in her right eye and a hairy wart on the end of her nose. And, oh, how could I forget, a wooden leg.”

“That’s pretty vague. Left or right leg?” Edith couldn’t keep back a gurgle of laughter.

She snapped her eyes open as he pulled her against his hard chest. “You should laugh more often,” he said, his brown eyes intense. “It suits you.”

Edith wondered later if that was the moment she fell in love with him, or afterward when she saw him being stern yet gentle with his daughters? He held them each on one knee and made it clear that he never wanted them to play such a trick again. He never raised his voice nor his hand but he let them see his disappointment.

Maribel began to sniff and cry very soon after he started to speak. Louise, made of sterner stuff, kept a stone face. When her father excused them, however, she flung her arms around his neck and whispered something against his shirtfront.

Then both little girls crossed the room to where Edith sat, feeling very much in the way. “We’re sorry, Cousin Edith,” Louise said, her eyes more than her face betraying the depth of her feelings.

“Very sorry.”

“We won’t do it again,” Louise stated. Maribel looked mournful and shook her head.

“That’s all right,” Edith said, feeling as bad as they did. “Don’t cry any more, you’re good girls. I’m not angry. I was just worried about you.”

She glanced at Jeff to see if he approved of what she said. He returned her look with a smile and a thumbs-up. Warmed, she reached out to gather Maribel into her arms. Edith kissed the child’s soft, warm cheek. Maribel shyly touched her lips to Edith’s cheek in return.

Letting the younger girl wiggle down, Edith looked up and surprised a wistful expression passing over Louise’s face. Standing up, Edith quickly bent to hug the other girl tightly. It was a bit like embracing a doll carved from a single piece of wood. Edith pressed her lips to Louise’s smooth forehead.

“It’s all right, dear,” she said as she stepped back.

Louise nodded, her eyes as startled as a deer’s. For once, it was Maribel who spoke first. “Can we go play now. Dad?”

“No,” Jeff said. “I think you should go to your room and think over everything I’ve said. You can come down for dinner and then an early night.”

“Yes, sir,” the two said, dragging their feet over the rug.

Edith couldn’t bear their woebegone faces. “That’s too hard, Jeff. Louise, Maribel . . . come with me to church tonight?”

Their faces did not exactly light up. Obviously weighing the rival merits of their room and the church, Louise visibly came to the conclusion that church had ever so slightly an edge.

“Can we, Dad?”

“You’ll come too, Jeff, of course.”

Glumly, he answered, “Of course.”

Sam was no more cheerful about the idea than the rest of the family. Finally, he gave in to majority opinion. “Do I have to put on a stiff collar?”

“You should be used to them,” Edith said. “You must have worn them as a young man.”

“I hated them then too. But I guess you can’t go to church in a flannel shirt, no matter how comfortable.”

“Certainly not!” Edith smiled and hurried up the stairs. She’d promised to give the girls their baths and wanted to use the fine soap she’d found packed in some of her undergarments. It had a sweet lily-of-the-valley fragrance that made all her things smell so fresh. She was sure the girls would revel in it.

Edith had little time to think about Jeff until she was sitting beside him in the buggy. Yet he was always at the back of her mind, even while she was bathing the girls or learning how to bake biscuits by watching Sam. Sitting beside him now, she knew that she was already far too deeply in love with him to save herself.

He looked again like her rescuer from St. Louis, wearing his fine tan suit, his low-crowned hat tipped over one eye. Leaning back, she watched his face covertly from behind her veil. His firm jaw showed a scrape where he’d shaved too closely. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, while his keen eyes stayed upon the road, never flicking in her direction. Yet, after a few moments he smiled and said, “What?”

Startled, Edith also said, “What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“No, no, I wasn’t.”

“Sure you were. Or were you looking past my nose at the scenery?”

“I wasn’t even looking in your direction.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely.”

His smile widened, showing his white teeth as though he’d like to take a bite of her. Realizing she was staring again, she glanced down at her white-gloved hands. But when he said, “Whoa!” and pulled back on the reins, her gaze snapped up to his face as though it was drawn there by magnetic force.

“What are you doing?”

“Stopping. . . .”

“But you can’t!”

The wagon, carrying Sam and the girls, stopped beside them. Even their horses turned their heads to see what was the matter. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing at all,” Jeff said. “I’m just waiting for Edith to tell me . . .”

“Yes, I was,” Edith said quickly. “All right?”

“Sure thing.” He motioned for his father to go on ahead.

“It’s extortion. That’s what it is.” Edith bit her lip to keep from smiling. She didn’t want to encourage him in his outrageous behavior, but at the same time, she hoped he’d continue to say reckless things.

“Now where did a nice girl like you learn an ugly word like extortion?”

“A city can be an ugly place,” she said, looking at the trees. All the leaves were shiny, as though Mother Nature had passed through the woods with beeswax. A fresh smell permeated the air. Edith breathed deeply, for she’d never known such an exciting fragrance before. It spoke of the mysteries at the heart of the green woods, far from brick walls and stone streets.

“I know.” Jeff untangled his hand from the reins  and dropped it lightly over her knee. “Have you thought . . . you don’t have to go back. You could make a good life in Richey.”

“A good life, but not a good living. There isn’t much call for a matchmaker here.”

“I found a use for one. Besides, you do all your work through the mails, remember? Just list your post office as General Delivery, Richey, Missouri, until you get settled.”

“Now you’re tempting me, Mr. Dane.” Daringly, she patted his hand, very quickly, afraid of being burned. How could she possibly stay after he married someone else?

The church doors were open, a sign of welcome. Many buggies and wagons, even a four-person surrey with a fringed canopy, were parked in the green churchyard. The horses, some with nose bags, waited patiently for their masters in the glow of the setting sun. A few stragglers were climbing the church stairs.

“Are we late?” Edith asked anxiously. “I hate walking into church late. It makes such a poor impression.”

“No, we’re not late.”

“Then where is everyone?” Now the only people in sight were Sam and the girls.

“The service hasn’t started yet,” Jeff assured her.

“Oh, we’d better hurry though.” She wondered what the difference was to him between walking in late during the service or walking in late before the service. Everyone stared either way. Perhaps it was a distinction only a man would understand.

Maribel and Louise both slipped their hands into hers when they met crossing the grass. “We want to sit next to you,” Louise whispered as they entered the church.

No one noticed them. The citizens of Richey, all that attended here, were busy talking amongst themselves, a musical whispering punctuated by laughter. As Edith followed Sam and Jeff to an empty wooden pew near the back, she saw that the church, though simple, had been decorated with care. A few pictures were hung beside the red and blue windows, showing sentimental scenes from the Bible. Nearest her was one of Christ ministering to the little children.

To keep the girls from fidgeting, Edith told them the story.

Maribel was interested enough to stop banging her shoes against the pew in front. Louise, however, didn’t seem to be attending very closely. She had poked a finger into her ribs and was scratching vigorously.

“What is it?” Edith asked, interrupting herself.

“It’s this danged dress. It itches something fierce and I can’t ever seem to make it better.”

Edith considered reproving Louise for her language in the house of God, but having suffered through itchy dresses in her own girlhood, she understood perfectly. Not that she’d ever known the word “danged.”

“You must have on a horsehair petticoat.”

“I think it’s wool.”

“In the summertime?” Edith shook her head sympathetically. “We’ll find you a nice muslin one tomorrow.”

A peculiar wheezing followed by thin organ-like notes stilled the congregation. Edith could just see the back of Mrs. Armstrong’s head as she played the harmonium by the pulpit. With a concerted rustle and the thumps of feet hitting the floor, everyone stood up and began to sing the Twenty-third Psalm. Knowing the words well, Edith also sang, blending her voice with Jeff’s bold baritone and his father’s surprisingly lyrical bass as well as the piping voices of the girls.

When she sat down again, Maribel climbed onto her lap. Edith caught a gleam of admiration in Jeff’s eyes. She cast her gaze downward. A pretty situation when a smile from him made her insides feel all squeezed. She peeked to see if he was still looking at her but he was attending to Mr. Armstrong who mounted into the pulpit.

He wore his dark suit, and looked as though he were a lumberjack doing an imitation of a preacher. He spoke, however, with the true faith of a Christian ringing in every word. From his opening words, “The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light,” the preacher had the full attention of the assembly.

The women ceased to fan themselves with their paper fans bearing advertising mottos. The men sat up from relaxed attitudes, or leaned forward. Even the children stopped squirming, though they were the first to resume.

Mr. Armstrong went on, telling them that now was the time to consecrate themselves to Jesus, that soon there would be no more time for any repenting, for the Second Coming was surely now at hand. They had to be ready. Some people were nodding now, while a woman in the middle kept saying, “Amen!”

Edith felt the tension building in the little church. The intensity of feeling which Mr. Armstrong wrought from the people began to frighten her. It was like sitting next to a keg of black powder as the fuse dwindled, headed toward an inevitable explosion. She wanted to sink to the floor and cover her head.

Then the harmonium started again and the moment passed. When Mr. Armstrong began to speak after the hymn, he persuaded more gently, like a father encouraging a wayward son, rather than as an avenging spirit. The fans began waving again, languidly, stirring the stifling air.

Edith became aware that some heads had turned in her direction. Unable to believe anyone had a reason to look at her, she glanced over her shoulder. Vera Albans stood in the doorway, closing the door discreetly behind her. Her face flushed beneath her gaily decorated hat, she began walking as quietly and as quickly as possible up the aisle.

Sam sat at the end of their pew. He had also turned around to see the milliner creeping in late. As she approached, he signaled Jeff to scoot over. Edith had already moved the children down. She smiled a welcome when Sam snagged Miss Albans’s hand as she tiptoed toward her regular seat.

Miss Albans gasped at the sudden touch of his hand, and more heads swiveled in the Danes’ direction. Sam stood up, a tall figure in his checked suit, and let Miss Albans pass in front of him. He gave her a grin that was very nearly a duplicate of the one Jeff used when he wanted to fascinate. After they sat down. Miss Albans began to whisper to Sam, obviously offering explanations for her tardiness.

Few people seemed to be attending to Mr. Armstrong anymore. Most of the children were whispering. Some of the men were yawning, and Maribel was very nearly asleep.

Everyone woke up instantly, however, when Mr. Armstrong said, “Most of you know already that my daughter Dulcie is getting married soon. I reckon this would be a good chance for you all to meet her intended. Victory? Victor Sullivan? Come on up here. You, too, Dulcie.”

With some good-natured grumbling, and a nervous giggle from Dulcie, the happy couple stepped up onto the slightly raised platform at the end of the church. Edith leaned forward to peer at Dulcie’s fiancé. She interfered, accidentally, with Vera’s view. “I beg your pardon, Vera, I just want to see . . .”

He had a lean body, a handsome face in a pretty way, and a wide, friendly grin. His pale, pasty skin looked as though it had never been exposed to sunlight and he must put something on his hair to make it so shiny. Edith disliked him at sight. She glanced at the young lady next to her to see what she thought. No doubt that irreverent mind must have some comment.

What she saw shocked her. Vera Albans was white, literally as white as the lace collar of her dress. Some beads of sweat had appeared at the edges of her red-gold hair, and she bit her lips until Edith thought she must be tasting her own blood.

Instantly, Edith transferred Maribel to Jeff. She touched Vera’s arm. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

“Air . . . please . . . outside . . .” Her eyes were eloquent with misery. Edith could not resist the plea.

Supporting Vera’s elbow with her hand, she said, “Excuse us, Sam. Miss Albans is unwell.”

Once again the tall man stood up. Jeff at the other end of the pew stared worriedly past Mantel’s head on his shoulder. Edith waved at him as she assisted Vera out of doors. Sam remained standing, staring after the two women until his son tugged him down.

Chapter 17

Before they’d reached the bottom step, Vera began to sob, dry sobs that wracked her from head to foot. It was a terrible aching sound that started Edith’s lip quivering in sympathy.

“I ... I’m sorry,” Vera gasped.