"I told you, you can call me Esme," she answered, deliberately making her smile bright and welcome.
He raised a critical eyebrow but didn't choose to argue. "Come along, Esme," he replied. "You can walk with me to the store."
Turning in that direction, Esme hurried her step alongside his. She was walking with him! The words sang through Esme's veins. He had considerably shortened his stride to match hers, though he kept his eyes straight ahead. But Esme could see the thoughtful expression on his face.
He was tall and stately beside her. And he smelled so good. It had never occurred to her that a man could smell so good. Pa certainly didn't.
She'd never walked with a man before, but walking with Cleavis Rhy was something that she wanted to do. She wished he'd take her arm, the way the courting couples and young marrieds walked from church. He didn't offer it, and Esme didn't have quite enough pluck to reach over and take it.
Cleav looked down at the woman's face, so eagerly turned up toward his. It was a comely face, handsome perhaps, but not truly pretty. Still, it had a great deal of appeal. And there was an interesting sparkle of intelligence behind those muddy blue eyes.
"I'd like to know what this is all about." His tone was excessively patient.
"What's what all about?"
He glanced down at her, a spark of annoyance clearly visible in his eyes. As she watched, he tamped it down, and after taking a deep breath, he continued with renewed composure.
"Miss Crabb, I realize that you are quite young and undoubtedly do not comprehend the social ramifications of your current course of actions."
Esme's smile brightened and her eyes widened in delight. "When you talk all pretty like that, Cleavis, why it sounds like a poem or some such."
His expression was stunned and confused. Thoughtfully he wet his lips. "I apologize," he said simply.
"Apologize?" Esme questioned with some confusion. "Well, why ever for?"
Cleav cleared his throat and raised his chin slightly and with intent. "The purpose of communication. Miss Esme, is to make oneself understood, not to entertain with flowery phrases."
A cheerful little giggle escaped her. "Oh, I understood you just fine," she assured him. "But I do love to hear that prissy talk."
"Prissy?" The word exploded from him like an expletive.
"Well, I didn't mean prissy, exactly." Esme immediately realized her mistake.
"You think I talk prissy?" His eyes were wide with horror.
"I ain't saying that you are prissy—"
"Why, thank you very much, Miss Crabb. I can assure you I will cherish your observation eternally."
They reached the porch of the store, and Esme stopped. Cleav stepped heavily toward the door and then turned back toward her.
"Let me speak plainly, Miss Crabb. And I hope this is not too prissy for you." His pale blue eyes flashed with fire. "Keep your snooping, spying eyes away from my door and your long, skinny legs out of my sight!"
Cleav jerked open the door of the store, walked inside, and slammed it behind him with a crash that startled the chickens peacefully roosting across the road.
Esme stood staring at the doorway for a minute, her brow wrinkled in concern. Slowly she smiled in satisfaction. With a burst of confidence she whispered to herself, "They may be long and skinny, but it's my legs you've been thinking about."
Burntinto the heavy slab of pine out in front of the town's largest white clapboard building were the words: "The First Free Will Baptist Church of Vader, Tennessee." Walking toward the church beside her father, with her sisters lagging behind, Esme smiled over the sign's pretense. It was not just the first Free Will Baptist Church of Vader, Tennessee. Truth to tell, it was the only church of any kind in this part of the mountains.
Esme had been attending every Sunday since the month she was born. And this Sunday, like every other, the Crabb family arrived late. The twins just couldn't seem to manage to get ready on time. Or maybe they liked making an entrance. Usually Esme didn't mind. She liked avoiding the before service gossip of dresses and beaux. But this morning she'd wanted to be there early. She'd wanted to watch Cleav, to find out what his Sunday mornings were like.
"We're a family and we'll attend as a family," her father had said firmly when she'd asked to go on ahead. She didn't mean to defy Pa, and he already didn't approve of her courting methods. She didn't want to give him a reason to interfere with her plans.
As they approached the door to the church, the sweet blend of voices raised in song drifted out to them. Pa opened the door and headed inside first, leading the way. Half the congregation turned to look at the sound of the door opening. The other half turned when Yo, an eager singer and lover of music, immediately added his strong baritone to the raised voices.
"I'min the glory land way,
I'm in the glory land way.
