A Lady in Attendance Page 6

  “That’s not romance,” Ina said, still staring at the dress in her hands. “That’s simply men who are desperate for female companionship. Real romance is thoughtful and kind, and it makes your heart feel like it’s alive within you.”

  “If that’s the definition of romance, then I suppose Mr. Murdock and Mr. Noriega were not the romantic suitors I had hoped for. But it’s all the romance I can expect.”

  Hazel looked at her sweet friend. She had one blemish that seemed so unimportant once you got to know her. How unfair that earthly eyes were used to determine such important matters. Others needed to see Ina, to really see her. If Hazel’s dress would help somehow, she was willing to share it with her.

  “You’ll look beautiful in the dress. Won’t you wear it?”

  “I don’t think there is a man out there who will see past the red mark on my face,” Ina said. “But if you insist, I’ll wear the dress.”

  Hazel promptly set to work getting Ina ready. She felt only a moment of regret when she looked in the mirror at her plain blue dress. The fabric had faded from what was once a vibrant blue, and it lacked lace and ruffles. Gilbert’s eyes would not follow her, of that she was certain. Of that she should be thankful.

  Turning from her own reflection, she looked to Ina. A powerful feeling of excitement for her friend overshadowed any qualms she had. Loaning Ina the dress was the right decision. A decision her former self would not have made. Perhaps she’d truly been reformed. A tear of happiness, not remorse, trickled down her cheek.

  “Oh, Ina,” she whispered.

  With the dress on and her hair pinned up, Ina looked radiant, the red mark only adding to her loveliness.

  Gilbert straightened his jacket as he walked across the field to the Stoddard barn. The large red building, with its nearby rows of fences and huge maples, was a lovely sight. It was the largest barn in all of Amherst’s countryside, and this evening it was bustling with more life than normal.

  “Gilbert Watts!” A young woman with a large smile pranced toward him like a mare with her eyes on a dangling carrot. “We haven’t seen you at a social in years.”

  He looked closely at her. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t place who she was.

  She tilted her head to one side, the smile still plastered on her face. “Samantha Firth. John’s little sister.”

  “Samantha?” She was barely over waist high when he’d seen her last. “You grew up.”

  “I did.” She batted her eyes at him as though he were a schoolboy. Little did she know the gesture only made him feel infinitely older. Samantha had to be a good ten or twelve years younger than he was.

  “How is your brother?” he asked while heading once again toward the barn, knowing it was polite to make conversation but eager to shake this woman from his side.

  “His wife just had their second baby. John’s so busy with the store, he hardly notices them.” She inched closer. Too close. “Tell me about yourself. It’s been so long.”

  Gilbert took a quick step sideways. “I’m busy running my father’s dental practice.”

  She smiled again as though she’d figured him all out. “Everyone says that all you do is work. Have you come to remedy it and find yourself a wife?”

  She’d been a nosy child, and clearly, she hadn’t outgrown that trait. He quickened his pace as he tried to think of a way to answer her. “I thought it might be nice to get out for an evening.”

  “Is it because of the attending lady? I heard she’s old but beautiful,” Samantha said.

  “She’s not old. She’s simply not as young as she was a few years ago.” Gilbert’s fists clenched at his sides, his defenses flaring . . .

  “Is she beautiful?” Samantha’s pace had quickened too. Relentless girl. “Mr. Murdock told me at the store that you had the most beautiful woman working for you. But I don’t see how she could be so exquisite and not be married.”

  “I haven’t noticed.” He looked ahead rather than at her. “I’d best join the men. I came to husk corn.”

  “How can you work with a woman every day and not know if she is beautiful or not?” She spit her words at him. “Do you not even see her?”

  “Stop scowling at me like that. Some of us from my generation are just a little more private with our compliments. But if the only way to keep you from making that face at me all night is to tell you the truth, then I will.” He mustered his courage and said, “Miss McDowell is an attractive woman. Indeed, she is the loveliest I’ve seen. But she is more than a pretty face, she is lively and fun and good and kind. She brightens a room with her presence. And one of her finest qualities is her ability to converse without being overbearing. A trait I’m afraid your generation seems to lack.”

  With each word he spoke, Samantha’s face changed from contempt to adoration. With her hand on her heart, she said, “Oh, I had no idea you were so eloquent. That was compelling. I can only pray a man speaks so highly about me someday.”

  Gilbert clamped his mouth shut, and his hands shook. Rarely did his thoughts come out so freely and with such force. Uncomfortable with the truth he’d spoken, he rushed away, muttering like a crazed man, “I have to husk corn.”

  Once inside the barn, he stood alone, feeling awkward in a setting where everyone was laughing and socializing. He walked slowly around the mound of corn in the center of the barn, pretending to be interested in its size.

  A woman in an elegant emerald dress came walking in, and his eyes and those of all others went to her. He recognized her as someone he’d seen at the dental office, but he could not recall her name. Behind her he saw blue skirts. He held his breath as his eyes traveled up to Hazel’s smiling face. His breath caught in his chest next to his rapidly beating heart. Everything he’d said to Samantha had been true, but his words hadn’t been complimentary enough. Words alone could not describe the woman he was watching now. Confident, lively, and beautiful.

  He took a step toward her, then froze and waited, wondering what to do next. They hadn’t come together, but they had both spoken of coming. Did that give him a right to cling to her side? He wanted desperately to be with her, near enough that he could smell the scent of lavender she wore and see the green flecks in her brown eyes.

  “Is that her?” Samantha had returned like vermin to its meal. “In the blue?”

  “Is that who?” he asked, annoyed that she was back.

  “Your exquisite lady.” Samantha was watching her now too. “She is pretty. I don’t know if I’d be as generous with my praise as you were, but she is tolerable.”

  Gilbert fought the urge to argue and instead pointed to Mr. Stoddard, who’d overturned a bucket and stood on top of it. “He’s about to say something.”

  The din in the barn died down. “Men and boys, it’s time to gather round. The competitions are about to begin. We have a great event planned. There will be games, competition, food, and if this pile of corn is cleared away in time, dancing.”

  The crowd around Gilbert roared with excitement.

  Mr. Stoddard waited for the room to calm down. “I know you didn’t all come out here just to help me husk my corn.” Laughter sounded in the old barn—some sheepish, some boisterous. “And I haven’t let you down. There are red ears in there, folks. Find a red ear and claim your kisses.”

  The crowd burst with enthusiasm. The eagerness was tangible and contagious. Even Gilbert felt his adrenaline rise. When at last the roar died down, Mr. Stoddard began again. “Ladies, cheer your men along or get those vittles ready to eat. Make yourself at home on the farm, but don’t go too far. You never know when a red ear will be found.”

  This time the din didn’t die down as Gilbert joined the throng of competitors. At least no one would know how uncomfortable and out of place he felt if he was busy working.

  “Fifty ears husked. Winner gets to lead the opening dance.” Mr. Stoddard raised a flag. “Start when the flag waves.” The competitors were in the barn’s center, and all around them were
excited friends and family.

  Gilbert stood near the mound of corn, ready to begin, his muscles flexing as he awaited the signal. For no explainable reason, he felt envious of the men with ladies near them, cheering them on. He pushed the nonsense from his mind and focused instead on the unwaved flag.

  “Good luck, Gil.” No one called him Gil, but he knew the voice. He looked over his shoulder, and there was Hazel beside him, hands clasped together. The corn became more than a distraction—winning mattered.

  The flag swished through the air, triggering the men into action. They attacked the pile of corn, tearing into it with enormous speed. Gilbert pushed himself hard. He was no farmer or day laborer, but his forearms were strong from his years of holding instruments and pulling teeth, and his will was solid. Grit, his father had often said, could be learned no matter the profession.

  “Come on, Gil!” he heard again from behind him. “Faster!”

  And faster he went. One ear after another lost its sheath and was stacked onto his pile. Forty-one, forty-two. He was close. His arms burned, but he didn’t slow. Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five. He reached for another, only to see the flag waving. He hadn’t won.

  Hazel stepped closer. “You were so close.” She pointed and whispered in his ear, “Those boys over there were so sure of themselves, and I don’t think they have over thirty in their piles. Perhaps we aren’t too old to fit in, after all.”

  “Well, I wasn’t quite fast enough. I guess that means I don’t have to lead the dancing.” He brushed the front of his jacket with his hand, and bits of corn husk and silk fell to the ground.

  She reached over and ran her hand over his jacket sleeve, loosening even more corn silk remains from his arm. The competition left his heart rate high, and with her touch, it rose further.

  “I think you did fine. It’s a shame you won’t get to lead the dance. You could have had your choice of partners.” She reached out again and picked a long strand of corn silk off his shoulder. “Anyone you wanted in the whole barn.”

  “Doctor Watts, you came.” The girl in the shimmering dress joined them. “You may not remember me, but I’m Ina. I’ve brought girls from the academy to see you. Hazel said she didn’t know if you’d make it.”

  “I wasn’t sure myself until today.”

  “You did well in the competition. I’m sure Hazel will dance with you even if you didn’t win,” Ina said, earning her raised eyebrows from Hazel.

  Gilbert fidgeted, knowing he stood at a crossroads. If he waited too long, the moment would pass. But did Hazel want to dance? What had those raised brows meant?

  “I would love to dance with you,” Hazel said before he could work up the courage to ask. “I haven’t danced in years, but I believe with the right partner it’ll come back to me.”

  A roar sounded in the crowd. Hazel, Ina, and Gilbert looked around, trying to figure out what the crowd was so ecstatic about. Near the great pile of corn, a boy with ink-black hair stood proudly holding a red ear for all to see.

  “I found one! I found one!” he shouted as he wove through the masses, showing off his prize as though he’d struck a vein of gold.

  Hazel leaned against Gilbert. “Is that what you looked like when you found your red ear?”

  “I like to think I was a little more dignified, or at least more reserved.”

  The boy ran to a blonde at the edge of the barn. He carelessly grasped her around the waist. The poor girl’s arms flailed at her sides. As quickly and awkwardly as it had begun, the kiss ended. The crowd laughed and cheered. The blonde stared, then laughed herself.

  Hazel leaned in again. “And is that what you’ll do this year if you get a red ear? Wave it around before surprising some girl like that?” She stifled a giggle. “You won’t give away your prize again, will you?”

  He could feel her breath on his cheek. If kissing was what he was after, all he’d have to do was turn his head and their lips would meet.

  “I’m thirty,” he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “This could be my last chance at a red ear of corn. If I find one, I’ll keep it. But I hope I have a more pleasing effect on whomever I kiss.”

  “And who will you kiss?”

  Had she always been so bold? Was she baiting him? Teasing him? He swallowed, stood taller, and vowed to meet her jest.

  “I suppose I’d choose to kiss a girl with red hair. It’d match the corn, only seems fitting,” he said, then walked away to join in the next competition, his heart racing before the flag ever waved.

  “You two looked rather friendly,” Ina said when Gilbert was out of earshot. “What were you whispering about?”

  “We were only jesting about the red ear of corn.” They were being flippant, weren’t they? She looked around the barn, searching for women with red hair. Hers hardly counted. It was brown with a mere hint of red, but she saw no one with more red than she had.

  Ina raised one eyebrow. “So, you were talking about kissing?”

  “No . . . well . . . yes. But not like you’re thinking.” Hazel’s eyes wandered to quiet, kind Gilbert. She hadn’t planned to feel anything for him. Not only was she his attending, but he was nothing like the men she’d chased in the past. Gilbert was supposed to be safe. Her heart wasn’t supposed to feel anything when he was near her, yet it did.

  “I don’t know why you deny an attraction. He’s handsome and has a decent job. He seems kind, and that’s more important than prestige. What’s not to like about him?” Ina asked. “I only wish I had someone half so ideal.”

  “I saw everyone watching you when you entered.” It was true, the girl in the beautiful dress had drawn many eyes. But Hazel had watched, and they’d turned away when they’d looked at Ina’s face. “Don’t give up,” she reassured her friend. Then, grabbing her hand, Hazel pulled Ina toward the center of the barn. “Look, they are about to start the next contest.”

  “Men, this time you’ll be given a basket. Husk the corn, see how many you can fit inside. Man with the most gets first pick of partners for the waltz,” Mr. Stoddard shouted to the eager participants. “Anything that topples over or falls out doesn’t count.”

  The flag waved and corn husks flew. Hazel tried not to stare at Gilbert, but her eyes kept finding him. Bent over, tearing into the corn, he moved swiftly. Muscles she’d never noticed in him flexed as he tore the outer sheath from the ears.

  Other men could be heard shouting their own accolades, boasting and sneering as they went. But Gilbert worked silently. It wasn’t a virtue she’d ever recognized before, but there was something dignified about a man who did not have to drag another man down or puff himself up to prove his own merit.

  “Do you stare at him all day like that?” Ina asked.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m just watching to see if he wins,” Hazel said without looking away from Gilbert.

  “Of course you are.”

  The pile of corn in Gilbert’s basket grew. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, but he did not flinch. He was in constant motion—like a clock, all the gears moved in perfect rhythm.

  And then all motion ceased. Gilbert was no longer a clock with ticking gears. Instead, he became a perfect statue.

  Hazel watched, wondering what had changed. His basket was not so full that it could hold no more. She took two steps closer, trying to discern what had happened. And then she froze.

  A red ear of corn rested in Gilbert’s strong hand. Without saying a word, he raised it high enough for the crowd to see. The people nearest noticed, their murmuring slowly dying down and causing others to turn their heads. And then Mr. Stoddard saw.

  Mr. Stoddard whistled, then shouted again. “Folks, stop where you are. We have another red ear.” A hush followed as everyone looked at Gilbert.

  Hazel’s heart raced, pounding in her chest so loudly she was certain others could hear it. Gilbert pivoted and walked across the barn in slow, calculated steps that brought him closer and closer to her. He did not zigzag or weave through the gatheri
ng. He didn’t glance at anyone else or put on a show. And then there he was, inches away from her. The rest of the barn may as well have disappeared, because she saw only him.

  “It matches your hair,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. Holding the ear near her head, he smiled. “Perfect.”

  Heat crept through her, moving from the tips of her toes all the way to her ears. Her whole body became warm and tense. She’d been kissed before, but never had she felt such fire before even being touched. This meant nothing. She knew it was a silly tradition, but her logic could not calm the flutter in her stomach.

  “Kiss her! Kiss her!” the crowd shouted—softly at first, then louder and louder.

  Hazel met Gilbert’s gaze, only to find a fervor in his eyes. He leaned closer. So close the stubble of his face tickled her skin. Senses she’d not known she possessed came alive as she waited. And then his lips brushed against her cheek, pausing only momentarily as they pressed against her skin. It was the briefest of kisses, a mere touch of his lips.

  He pulled away, and there was space between them again. Her face burned where he’d touched her, shouting and pleading for more. It’d been brief, too brief, almost unreal. And yet she could feel it still.

  Putting a hand to her cheek, she let her eyes meet his again.

  “If I ever see Eddie, I’ll tell him I made use of a red ear.” He stepped back, putting even more distance between them.

  She let a tense chuckle escape her lips. “I’m glad I could help you redeem yourself.”

  “We do make a good team,” he said before walking back to the pile and the competition.

  Ina began saying something beside her, but Hazel could make no sense of it. The words were background noise to the flood of emotion awakened by his kiss.

  “Hazel! Are you even listening to me?”

  “I’m sorry.” Hazel forced herself to focus on Ina. Her inner questioning of why was not important. No matter the answer, there was nowhere for her feelings to go. Her heart was closed and must stay that way forever, or at the very least until her slate was clean.