Untethered (2 page)

The fact was that Cricket and her three friends had found much more than just rickety old chairs inside the abandoned structure when they’d first decided to use the dilapidated Morgan house as their secret meeting place. Certainly a family had once lived and worked in the old home, but that had been long ago—more than twenty years. And now the old house was nothing but a vacant shell. And yet it was a secluded retreat for four effervescent young women who preferred to be about making mischief here and there as well. Among the dust, cobwebs, and dried leaves gathered and settled into the once beautiful home, Cricket Cranford, Vilma Stanley, Marie King, and Ann Burroughs found friendship, respite, and much more.

“Well,” Marie began as a sulk furrowed her lovely brow, “did you hear that the Olivers are leavin’ town, Cricket?”

“No!” Cricket exclaimed. “When? They can’t leave town! Hudson Oliver is meant to be yours, Marie!”

“Oh, I had hoped it,” Marie moaned.

Cricket frowned as empathy for her friend washed over her. Marie had been sweet on Hudson Oliver since she was ten years old. Cricket, Ann, and Vilma all knew she’d harbored hopes of marrying
Hudson
for simply ever. And now that she was finally old enough to perhaps catch
Hudson
’s eye, his family meant to leave town?

“Maybe
Hudson
won’t move with his family,” Ann offered. “He’s near twenty-two now, Marie. Maybe he’ll just stay and make his own way here in Pike’s Creek.”

But Marie shook her head. “I doubt that. You know how his mama depends on him. I don’t know if his daddy would let him do it either.”

Yet Cricket was not so easily thwarted. She wanted Hudson and Marie to end up scandalously in love and then married, almost as much as Marie wanted it. And she figured that there had to be a way to convince Hudson Oliver to stay, to just let his family move on, to start his own way—and with Marie.

In truth, it was part of who Cricket was—“a fighter,” her father called her. It seemed there wasn’t a whole lot in life that Magnolia Cranford gave up on. And she certainly wouldn’t let Marie give up her dream of Hudson Oliver—not without a battle anyway.

And so she announced, “Then you better make this Friday night the night you plant your lure on Hudson, Marie.” Cricket smiled as Ann nodded. Even Vilma nodded with encouragement. “Today when we choose our Pike’s Creek folks to cheer up on Friday, you choose
Hudson
Oliver…and you somehow make him know that, if he stays in Pike’s Creek, you’ll be here with him.”

Cricket winced when she saw Marie’s eyes fill with tears. Still, she was determined to see her friend happy and blissfully wed to the man of her dreams.

“
Hudson
needs somethin’ to stay
for
, Marie,” she continued. “I mean, sure…he’s old enough to stay behind and make his own way. He’s a man now, not a boy…but he needs somethin’ to stay
for
. And that somethin’ will be you. You choose Hudson Oliver as your choice for our Friday night shenanigans. You’ve been talkin’ about doin’ it for months anyhow.”

“Oh
,
you’re one to talk, Cricket,” Vilma
said—though without malice. S
miling and sh
aking her head with amusement, she asked,
“How long have you been sweet on Mr. Heathro Thibodaux
? Since the day his horse galloped into Pike’s Creek, that’s how long. And you haven’t cast any kind of lure at him. But you’re gonna go on and tell Marie to go after Hudson Oliver easy as that?”

“That’s as different as sugar and vinegar, Vilma, and you know it,” Cricket answered.

“Well, I don’t see how,” Vilma teased.

“I think you should do it too, Marie,” Ann chimed. “It’s your last chance. You’ve loved Hudson Oliver forever! You can’t just let him walk away without tryin’ to make him stay.”

Marie sighed and nodded. Looking to Vilma, she asked, “What do you really think, Vilma?”

Cricket bit her tongue. It pricked her sensitivities—the way everyone always looked to Vilma for confirmation of anything just because Vilma was Reverend Stanley’s daughter. Yet even Cricket had been guilty of somewhat asking for Vilma’s blessing at times. She supposed it was because deep down inside everyone felt Vilma was somehow closer to the Lord because of her daddy.

Still, once in a while Vilma could display a morsel of humility, and Cricket sighed with relief when Vilma smiled at Marie and answered, “I think you
should
cast a lure to Hudson this Friday, Marie. I really think you should. Don’t let him get away without even tryin’ for him.”

“Yes,” Ann agreed. “You’ve gotta at least try for him, Marie. You’ll regret it your whole life long if you don’t.”

Marie nodded. “You’re right. You’re all absolutely right,” Marie determined. “I need to at least try for
Hudson
.”

“You do, Marie. You really do,” Cricket assured with a nod.

“So? How will you do it?” Vilma asked.

Marie and Ann looked at one another. But when the silent understanding they usually shared seemed absent, they both looked to Vilma. But Vilma simply shrugged and looked to Cricket—just the way Marie and Ann did. As was always the case when the need for an idea was at hand, Vilma and eventually even Marie and Ann looked to Cricket with expressions of expectation plain on their faces.

Cricket shook her head. “Why are you all lookin’ at me? You all always think I’ve got the ideas. But this has to be Marie’s choice. I-I don’t know Hudson Oliver the way she does.”

“But you do always have the best ideas when it comes to cheerin’ a body up or catching a boy’s attention,” Ann offered with a giggle.

Cricket shook her head as a strange anxiety began to rise in her. She well recognized the sensation in her bosom. The sensation of desperation, impending loss, and fear were seasonings of empathy her heart was beginning to feel for Marie. But she also felt strength welling inside her, and she somewhat resented it—though she couldn’t ignore it. She
was
the fighter of the group—the strong one—and it was why her friends always, always looked to her for leadership, guidance, courage, and creativity.

“But he’s
your
lover, Marie…not mine,” Cricket reminded in a futile effort to alleviate herself from the responsibility of trying to coordinate a way for Marie to capture Hudson Oliver’s attention and heart.

“Lover?” Vilma exclaimed with a preacher’s daughter’s disapproval.

“I don’t know
Hudson
very well,” Cricket added, ignoring Vilma’s aghast expression. “He’s always been yours in my mind, Marie…so I’ve never really tried to get to know him better.”

“You know him well enough,” Ann offered. “You know him as well as Vilma and me. What should Marie do on Friday, Cricket? Just take a moment and think about it.” Leaning forward, Ann placed her hands on Cricket’s shoulders, forcing Cricket’s attention to her. “Now think. What can Marie say or do to
Hudson
to convince him to stay? What can we do to help her?”

Cricket sighed. “Short of walkin’ on up to him and sayin’, ‘I love you, Hudson. Stay in Pike’s Creek and marry me,’ you mean?”

“Yes,” Ann confirmed.

Cricket sighed, relented, and began to pick her brain for an idea—some manner in which Marie might approach Hudson—some way to hint to him that she wanted him to stay with her in Pike’s Creek.

“It can’t be subtle,” she thought aloud. “It has to be firm…even brazen maybe.”

Marie, Vilma, and Ann remained silent as Cricket continued to muse. Yet even for the silence, nothing came to Cricket’s mind—nothing, that is, but what to her was the obvious. The time had passed when it came to offering anything in the line of delicate clues to Hudson Oliver concerning Marie’s feelings. Nope. The ox was in the mire; the eleventh hour was at hand. Cricket grinned as she thought how proud Vilma would be of her rather scriptural considerations. Still, it was true. If the Oliver family was planning on leaving Pike’s Creek and taking their handsome son Hudson with them, then Marie had to act—and boldly.

“It’s simple,” Cricket announced. “You’ve got to tell him how you feel, Marie. That’s all there is to it. We’ve lost our chance at easin’ the man into it.”

“What? No!” Marie exclaimed. “Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind, Cricket?”

But the more Cricket considered the idea, the more certain she was of what must be done. “It’s the only way, Marie,” she answered. “We don’t have time for willy-nillyin’ now.
Hudson
has to know how true and deep your feelin’s are. If you want him to stay, then he has to know he’s stayin’ for a woman who loves him and wants to be his wife. Therefore, I propose this. We figure out how to get
Hudson
out of the house Friday night after dark. Maybe we can get him out to that old lean-to at the back of his father’s property…say we saw a coyote or somethin’ out there stalkin’ the henhouse.”

Cricket looked to Vilma and Ann to find both were nodding in agreement—obviously approving of her plan. It was only Marie that sat shaking her head, every ounce of pink having drained from her pretty face.

“Cricket,” Marie began, “I could never just walk up and…and just…just tell him! Not right out loud to his face.”

“You have to!” Cricket told her with rising desperation in her bosom. Wanting to allow little to no time for Marie to argue further, Cricket continued, “Once we get him out to the old lean-to…you just tell him, Marie. You flat out tell Hudson Oliver that you love him and want him to stay in Pike’s Creek with you.” Cricket inhaled a breath of courage and added, “And then you kiss him…and I mean square on the lips.”

“Cricket!” Vilma gasped. “You cannot be serious! Kiss
Hudson
Oliver? In front of God and everything? You want Marie to kiss that man without even—”

“She
has
to kiss him, Vilma,” Cricket interrupted. “And besides, God is everywhere…so it doesn’t matter where they’re standin’ when she kisses him. God will see it.” She was feeling almost frantic now, her heart beginning to break the way she knew Marie’s had begun to. Turning to face Marie, Cricket took her hands in her own, forcing her friend to look her in the eyes. “
Hudson
has to know you’re sincere, Marie. He has to know you love him! He won’t know it unless you show him as well as tell him. You know how men are. Their heads are as hard as oak.” She paused, her own heart aching as she studied the fear in her friend’s frightened blue eyes. “Fight for him, Marie,” she whispered. “If you’re not willin’ to fight for somethin’ you love, then you don’t deserve to own it.”

“I do love him, Cricket,” Marie whispered as tears escaped her eyes to trickle over her cheeks. “I do. B-but to walk right up to him and…he’s never even once asked to come courtin’ me or anything, Cricket. What if…what if he doesn’t feel anything for me? What if he laughs at me?”

Cricket shook her head. “He won’t laugh, Marie,” she answered. “Hudson Oliver is one of the best men any of us have ever known. He won’t laugh.” Cricket took a deep breath and added, “And if he doesn’t return your feelin’s…well, then at least you’ll know you tried. You won’t go through life always wonderin’ ‘what if’ where
Hudson
is concerned.”

“Oh, this is all so easy for you to plot out, Cricket,” Vilma offered. She pointed a rather bony index finger at Marie and in her preacher’s-daughter voice said, “You can sit there and tell Marie to walk right up to a man, tell him she loves him, and kiss him square on the lips…but I don’t see you doin’ the likes. I don’t see you waltzin’ up to
Heathro Thibodaux
confessin’ your feelin’s and kissin’ on him.”

“That’s very different, Vilma…and you know it,” Ann interjected.

“Not really,” Vilma countered.

Cricket couldn’t understand Vilma. When compared with Heathro Thibodaux, Hudson Oliver was a boy! And besides, Marie had known
Hudson
for nearly ever. Heathro Thibodaux had only moved to Pike’s Creek six months before.
Hudson
Oliver and Heathro Thibodaux? It was onions and oranges.

But Cricket looked to Marie. Marie loved
Hudson
so perfectly—and she’d loved him for a long time. The pain in her heart seemed to leap right out of Marie’s bosom to be shared in Cricket’s, and Cricket knew she could not watch Hudson Oliver leave Pike’s Creek—not without Marie as his bride.

Furthermore, she knew what Vilma meant—what she was implying—that Marie needed strength, the strength in knowing that another person could find courage along with her. Cricket sighed and looked to Vilma. Vilma’s frown revealed guilt mingled with uncertainty when she shrugged.

“
Heathro Thibodaux
is different,” Cricket began. “He doesn’t know me from a night crawler in a rain puddle.
Hudson
knows you, Marie. You all have grown up together.”

“But, Cricket…I-I can’t do it,” Marie whispered, trepidation and disappointment blending in her pained expression. “I can’t just walk up to
Hudson
and tell him how I feel. And I certainly can’t kiss him! I just can’t!”

“Maybe we can’t ask Marie to do somethin’ we aren’t willin’ to do ourselves, Cricket,” Vilma timidly suggested. But Cricket knew the
we
meant her and nobody else. Still, what were good friends for if not to weather the good, the bad, and the terrifying with?