"Then why ever did she come down the mountain?" Mrs. Tewksbury asked.
In his memory Cleav distinctly heard the words "You wanna marry me?"
"I have no idea," he answered. "But she was certainly looking poorly. It occurred to me that this late in the year they must be pretty low on winter stores. It's a good two months before they'll get so much as a potato from the ground."
"Oh, then we must get up a basket for them," Sophrona said with genuine sweetness. "Thank you so much for mentioning it, Mr. Rhy." Her voice lowered to a shy whisper. "I will make it my personal duty this week to bring this need to the attention of the Ladies' Auxiliary."
Miss Sophrona's sincere goodness was so powerful that Mrs. Rhy quickly forgot her previous irritation. Once again, she beamed at the young woman.
"Such a precious daughter you have," she told Mrs. Tewksbury.
"'Raise up a child in the way he should go,'" the preacher's wife quoted proudly. The two women gazed fondly at their children. The handsomely dressed Cleav was nodding approvingly at the sweetly blushing Sophrona, who smiled back at him shyly.
"Mayhap we should leave these two alone," Mrs. Rhy suggested in a whisper. "Would you care to help me get our supper on the table?"
Cleavis rose politely as the women left the room and then, with only a moment's hesitation, seated himself on the divan next to Sophrona.
The young lady continued to face the front, her eyes on the pale lavender hankie that she nervously twisted in her hand. Her hands were beautiful, pale and unlined, with tiny little childlike fingers. It was not, however, her hands that captured Cleav's regard. Miss Sophrona was a diminutive woman, no higher than a fence post. If she'd been standing next to Cleav, the top of her head would have come no higher than his heart. But what heaven had robbed from her in stature, it had repaid in abundance. As with every opportunity Cleav had to observe her, his gaze unerringly went to the overgenerous outpouring of firm feminine flesh that was Sophrona Tewksbury's bosom.
This evening that blatant attraction was modestly covered with a lavender dotted-swiss bodice, its neatly stitched pleats designed to disguise the beauty that just couldn't be hidden.
Remembering propriety, Cleav tore his attention from the lushly rounded curves of the preacher's daughter and forced himself to speak civilly. "Do you think we'll be seeing any more snow this year?" he asked.
She gave him a shy glance. "'It's not for you to know the times or the seasons which the Father hath put in his own power.'"
Cleav nodded. "Just so." After a moment's hesitation he began again. "Mother told me that the ladies of the church are planning a social."
"Yes," Sophrona admitted. "'For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I in the midst of them.'" When the gentleman at her side raised a quizzical eyebrow, she added, "It's still too cool for ice cream, so we're thinking of a taffy pull."
Cleav cleared his throat slightly and then issued a polite invitation. "I would be honored, Miss Sophrona, to be allowed to escort you."
Sophrona twisted the handkerchief to such a state, it by rights should have been torn to pieces. "'Thou hast given me my heart's desire.'" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Uncomfortable with the sudden serious turn of the conversation, Cleave grasped at his thoughts, searching for potential topics of conversation.
"I received a letter today from a Mr. Simmons. He's a gentleman from New England, who's with the American Fish Culturists Association."
"Oh?" Sophrona's reply held only the mildest pretense of curiosity.
"Yes," Cleav continued eagerly. "It seems that Mr. Simmons heard about my trout-breeding experiments from Mr. Westbrook of the U.S. Deputy Fish Commissioner's office. The two were fellows together at Yale."
"How nice."
"Wonderful, actually." Cleav leaned back against the cushions of the divan and comfortably crossed his legs. "Mr. Simmons is active in the Fish Restoration Movement and is very excited about the prospects of what I've been able to do here on the Nolichucky."
"We're all very proud of your work, Mr. Rhy," Sophrona said gently.
Looking across at the unmistakably bored expression on the young woman's face, Cleav's lips broadened into the wide smile that had the power to melt her heart.
"My dear Miss Sophrona," he said. "How generous you are to allow me to ramble on about my fish. You are much too polite to remind me that ladies care nothing for the spawning and rearing of Piscis Salmonidae."
Her answer was an impish little giggle that further endeared her to him. Slowly and with due gravity and consideration, Cleavis took her tiny hand in his own and brought it to his mouth, very lightly grazing the first knuckle with his lips.
"Oh, Mr. Rhy!" she protested breathlessly. But she continued to allow him to hold her hand until they were called to supper.
"Well,it's about time you showed up!" Esme said, greeting her sisters less than favorably as they walked through the front door only a few seconds before full dark.
"Evening, Miss Esme," a male voice called out behind them.
