Dancing on Dew (6 page)

“Looks perfect to me. Can I help you do anything?”

“Relax and enjoy the afternoon, that’s all.”

They walked in slow strides, in no hurry to rush away their time together. Once they arrived at the tree, Barry removed a thin tablecloth from the basket and laid it over the smoothest spot of the cottonwood’s shade.

She sat down, spreading her skirt over her legs and ankle, so that only the tip of her shoe showed. Reaching into the basket, she helped set out the food. “This looks delicious.”

“Shall we pray first?” He extended an upturned hand.

Her acceptance of his hand gave her answer. She bowed her head and closed her eyes, then listened to Barry ask blessings upon their food and thank the Lord for their time together.

Conversation came easily as they ate, then took a stroll along the bank of the creek. Before Cicely realized how much time had passed, the sun dimmed in the sky, ushering in the evening hours.

“We should leave soon,” Barry said, leading her back to their picnic area. “Thank you for spending the afternoon with me.”

“Thank you for inviting me. Today was a pleasant break from the ordinary?”

Staring at her, his eyes narrowed, lending a solemn expression to his face. “May I ask a question?”

Her heart raced, and the temptation to say no almost overcame her. “Yes.”

“I couldn’t help notice the glowers aimed my way by Joseph Scott.” He shifted his weight, but maintained eye contact. “Did I step on any toes by asking you here today?”

All the air left her lungs in a whoosh. She’d hoped Barry hadn’t noticed Joseph’s poor manners. “No. Joseph and I were friends once, but we’ve barely spoken since his return. I’m not sure why he would give you dirty looks.”

Jealousy was all that she could figure, but that didn’t make sense. Joseph was the one who’d left and remained at a distance coming home to Weatherton. He was the one who’d made it perfectly clear their past would never be their present. But even if it was the truth that Joseph was jealous, she wouldn’t tell Barry.

“If you’re not seeing him then, maybe we could do this again soon?” He sucked in a short breath and held it.

“I’d like that,” she told him.

To her surprise, she meant it.

“Is it time yet, Papa?” Gloria hopped up and down in front of him.

Joseph placed palms on his daughter to still her. “Almost, darling.”

“What do we do again at a ‘dependence day celebration?”

“We celebrate America’s birthday with a big fair.” He tugged one of her pigtails and smiled. “There will be games, contests, even a parade.”

A dainty knock on the door interrupted the conversation.

Joseph peeked through the window and saw his sister-in-law. He opened the door to her. “Good morning.”

Gloria pushed ahead before Tallie could respond. “Can I ride to town with you, Aunt Tallie?”

“If it’s all right with your papa.” Tallie sought his gaze for permission and he nodded.

“Yippee!” Curious hands got the better of Gloria and she touched the basket in Tallie’s hand. “What’s in here?”

“Dinner for the basket social.”

“Why’s it decorated?” The questions from his daughter never ceased.

“See what you have to look forward to soon,” he teased Tallie.

“I grew up in an orphanage—I’m used to it.” She released a light chuckle then addressed Gloria’s question. “A basket social is a fun event in which all the women decorate a basket filled with food, then the men bid on the baskets. The exciting part is that none of the men are supposed to know which basket their wife brought, so they have to be very observant if they want to share their dinner with their sweetheart.”

Gloria frowned. “What if someone doesn’t have a sweetheart?”

“Then they’ll share their lunch with a friend.” Crouching down, Tallie gave her a brief hug. “No frowns allowed today. It will be a great day for everyone.” When she stood, she handed the basket to him. “Would you mind turning this in for me? I don’t want Jeremiah to know which is mine.”

“As if he doesn’t already?” Joseph arched his brow.

With a wink and a shrug, Tallie grinned. “I’ll never tell.”

He shook his head. “Where do I take it once in town?”

“Leave it in the wagon, and I’ll come grab it.”

The tantalizing scent of spiced peaches drifted to his nose. “I might have to bid on yours myself.”

She pretended to scowl and huff. “You better not.”

“I can’t make promises.” He enjoyed teasing Tallie, appreciated the sibling bond by which he felt connected to her.

A soft hand touched his forearm. “You know that you and Gloria are welcome to eat with us. I packed enough for all of us to enjoy a picnic.”

“Thank you.”

“I best get back to Hope and Jeremiah. Is Gloria ready to go now?”

“Yes.” He crouched to speak with his daughter. “You behave and obey Aunt Tallie and Uncle Jeremiah. Stay close to them and don’t wander off.”

“I’ll be good, Papa. Promise.”

He embraced her, and when he let go, watched her and Tallie walk to the other cabin. Loneliness caught him from nowhere. He’d done so well lately, but a voice in his head taunted him to stay home and forget the festivities altogether.

An alluring thought if not for Gloria. She’d looked forward to the celebrations for weeks and he couldn’t disappoint her. Besides, he had to take Tallie’s basket. He lifted the container and examined it. She’d decorated it in a pleasant, patriotic manner. However, he noticed a few of the stars appeared similar to a snowflake.
Very clever.
Joseph grinned, realizing he’d caught the secret message of the basket. Because of Tallie’s past, she and Jeremiah had a verse from the Bible they held dear, about being whiter than snow.

Basket socials had lost their appeal to him many years ago. He’d participated in one when he was sixteen. He’d wanted to surprise Ma by getting her basket since Pa hadn’t been able to attend that day, but he’d inadvertently bid on the basket of his teacher, Mrs. Devonshire. Their entire meal had consisted of her quizzing him on what they’d learned that week. For weeks, he’d been the laughingstock of all the school-aged kids.

Once he’d moved to Chicago, there hadn’t been any such events to participate in. Not that Clara would have wanted to attend one, regardless. The outdoors, especially eating on the ground, didn’t excite her, or even interest her. She’d been accustomed to meals at the finest restaurants and when she did cook, it was meals he didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t a bad thing as he’d expanded his palate to include foods he never would have tried otherwise. Such as spaghetti, which were these long noodles that reminded him of really thin dumplings, and topped with a sweet tomato sauce. That was one of his favorites of all the new dishes Clara had him try.

They complemented each other in that way. Although they came from different backgrounds, they’d come to appreciate and learn from each other’s differences. It also meant a great deal of compromising, which typically ended with him bending to Clara’s will, but he didn’t mind because he loved her and wanted her happy. Even now, he never begrudged those times. Despite her privileged upbringing that sometimes put a strain on their relationship, Clara had been a great wife, loving and adoring, and an even better mother.

A bittersweet smile fought to surface. His three months in Weatherton had performed miracles for him and every day was an improvement—his foray into memories of Clara proved that. He could think about her now without a crushing weight on his chest.

Physically, he felt better as well. Even Gloria had shown vast improvement. A few weeks after they’d moved into the newly built cabin, he’d convinced her to sleep in her own room. Her fear of the dark lost its potency and her smiles came often, the frowns less.

He carried the basket to the barn and set it inside the wagon before hitching the team. On his way into town, he thought more about how their lives had changed since coming home.

They began attending church again, which presented a challenge. Pastor Gibbons’ sermons spoke to him each week, healing a part of his soul or revealing an area in his life he needed to fix. Joseph enjoyed the social aspect of church also and had since restored old friendships. He had a solid community of friends, plus his small family.

The challenge was Sissy. Since that week he’d first stepped foot in church again, she’d sat with Barry every Sunday. The image of them sitting close, occasionally whispering, made his skin crawl. Once, he’d gone into town for some supplies, and saw them having supper together at Nell’s restaurant. He’d wanted to invite himself to their table and interrupt their cozy meal.

Sissy frustrated him more than any person ever had, and the worst part was, it wasn’t her fault in any way. He had no one to blame except himself. Jeremiah warned him that he’d lose Sissy if he waited too long, and Joseph was terrified he already had.

Yet, the thought of fighting for her, scared him even more. So many what-ifs. What if she rejected him outright? What if she told him she loved Barry? He wouldn’t be surprised. Barry was twice the man he was, and Joseph knew it—he had never hurt Sissy by breaking promises and abandoning her.

But the big question was—what if she did come to him and accepted his apology? What if they found love a second time and then she died as Clara had? He didn’t believe he could survive the loss of a second love, nor could Gloria. The fear of losing Sissy to death held him in a stranglehold. He could handle losing her to Barry if she was happy, but to know her love and have it ripped away for all this lifetime?

He struggled to weigh the risk versus reward, and at the moment, the risk won. His heart wasn’t strong enough. Yet.

Crowds of people already filled the streets of Weatherton when he arrived. He parked the wagon at the edge of town, near the livery. A cacophony of noise filled the air—people talking, the strumming of banjos, horse hooves clomping down against the packed dirt road. The scent of freshly made popcorn teased his nostrils. Once he found Jeremiah and his crew, he’d follow his nose and purchase a sack for himself and Gloria.

A horn blew and Sheriff Grayson rode a proud black mare down the middle of the street, directing everyone to the side before the parade began. Standing on his toes, Joseph craned his neck, searching for signs of his brother or sister-in-law.

“Papa, Papa,” Gloria called from behind him.

Pivoting, he opened his arms and caught his running daughter. “Having fun?”

“Yes. Guess what?” Her nearly violet eyes widened to excited saucers.

“What?”

“There’s going to be a chicken race later. Isn’t that silly?” She covered her mouth and giggled.

“Very.” He set her down but grabbed one of her hands so she couldn’t run off.

Jeremiah stepped forward, balancing Hope on his hip. “Tallie’s at your wagon, said she had a special delivery to make.” He gave an exaggerated wink. “I don’t know what it could be.”

Joseph couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling. “Is she meeting us for the parade?”

“Yes. We made plans to meet up in front of Nell’s.”

“We should head that way soon.” He nodded toward the sheriff making another sweep of the street.

“Will you carry me, Papa?” As more people pushed into the area, Gloria’s excitement faded.

Crowds overwhelmed her, but he knew from experience she’d be giddy again once the parade was over and the celebration dispersed through town. He scooped her into his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her hair tickled his nose, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything for his little girl.

The boardwalk in front of Nell’s Restaurant was a popular parade viewing spot. Between him and Jeremiah, they stood in the last two spots available for front row viewing. When Tallie met them five minutes later, he gave her his spot, and let Gloria watch from his shoulders.

Midway through the parade, Weatherton’s school-age children marched down the street singing
The Star-Spangled Banner
. Too late, he realized they were led by Sissy. He’d done his best to avoid spotting her other than at church, and the vision of her clenched his stomach muscles into a tight knot.

She wore a dress similar to the one she’d handed him in the store several weeks ago, but something about it looked different. He’d never admit to anyone that he’d stared at the dress for several minutes, studying the design and fabric, and imagining it on Sissy. If he had any sense, he would have given it back to her because he was most certain he hadn’t meant to hand it over, but she’d been visibly uncomfortable in his presence. Nevertheless, this comparable dress she wore today flattered her just as much as he envisioned the other would have.

The children continued to pass, and Joseph scowled when he spotted Barry bringing up the rear. Had he helped Sissy orchestrate the performance? Since the children were on summer break, he hoped they had practiced for the event before school let out, and before Sissy began keeping company with Barry.

He emitted a low growl.

“What’s wrong, Papa?”

“Nothing, darling, just clearing my throat.” He added a cough for emphasis. Even if a four-year-old could understand the situation, she didn’t need to know her father was a jealous fool.

When the parade ended, he bought Gloria the popcorn they hadn’t had time to buy beforehand. They ambled around the town, eventually making their way to a large plot of land just behind the town where the remainder of the festivities would take place.

Lining one side, was a row of tables, each filled with contest entries—pickles, pies, jams, and relishes. At the far end, a makeshift stage had been constructed, where a band played. If this year was like previous years, anyone who wanted could join in playing. It’s also where the basket auction would occur.

Down the center of the field, different games for the children were happening. A sack race, a three-legged race and tug of war.

Gloria tugged on his arm. “Can I do the sack race?”

A quick scan in that direction showed several children near Gloria’s age participating. “Okay, I’ll race you over there.”

Giggling, Gloria ran off. Joseph moved his arms and legs at an unnaturally slow pace, allowing his daughter to beat him there. Jeremiah and Tallie caught up to them in seconds, and Hope fussed to be put down. She toddled near her parents while waiting for Gloria’s turn.

Two rounds passed before Sam Holden handed Gloria a flour sack. He stepped back, pointed to a long ribbon stretched out thirty feet away and addressed the three contenders of this round. “When I blow the whistle, you’re going to hop to that line. The first one to cross, wins.”

The whistle blew.

Joseph clapped loudly, cheering on Gloria. She started out in first, then a boy he didn’t recognize crept ahead. He yelled her name louder, giving her all the fatherly support he could. The competitive side he’d forgotten about resurfaced and he applauded louder when she took the lead again, pumped his hands when she crossed the line first.

He ran to her and spun her around in a congratulatory hug. “Great job, darling.”

Who cared if she was only four and it was a sack race—he was proud of her for giving it her all. He turned to the other two children and congratulated them as well. After all, it was only a children’s game, and they’d all done well. Maeve Holden handed each child a piece of candy, and Gloria received an extra for being the winner.