Words deserted her completely, and she could only stare open-mouthed at him as he walked away.
"Oh," he called over his shoulder before he was out of range. "If you're planning to come back inside when you're finished, you be sure to wash yourself up real good. I don't want you smelling up my store with the stink of fish."
Chapter Seven
Esmeralda Crabb eased her way past the mountain hobble-bush and rhododendron to the still, small pool held within the ancient roots of a towering hemlock. Careful to hold her dress back from the water, she leaned over to assess herself. She had no glass with which to judge herself, only the vague reflection of the cool water to act as a mirror.
Quietly, in the silence of the late Saturday afternoon, she studied herself in her new dress. Then, slowly, a tiny tear slipped out of the side of her eye. "Save to graces, I'm beautiful," she whispered softly to the forest around.
Wiping the tear away, a smile was next. A big smile. And then a laugh. With a hurried, happy step she made her way back to the path, where she stopped to twirl around giddily. The new white dress swirled about her, making a startling contrast to the sprouting green all around.
Esme giggled at her own foolishness. Who ever heard of a woman dancing for joy at the mere sight of herself? Still, she couldn't quite tamp down her enthusiasm.
The twins had done wonders for the dress. It fit her perfectly now. The neat little bodice pleats beautifully accented her waist, which was attractively girded with a sash made from the leftover material from the outrageously oversize bustline. The kickflounce at mid-calf was also the twins' design. The flounce not only made the petite little gown long enough for Esme, it also served to draw attention to her legs, which she'd just recently discovered were her best feature.
Lifting her skirts slightly, she stared down at her old worn work shoes. It was the only mar, but couldn't be helped, she decided. It was work shoes or barefoot, and work shoes were infinitely better. Raising her chin in mock haughtiness, she daintily raised one side of her skirt, the way she imagined great ladies did, and began to promenade resolutely down the mountain path.
Raising her voice in triumphant challenge, she sang,
"Oh Katy was pretty
And so was her legs.
She sewed up her stocking with needle and thread.
The thread it was rotten, the needle was blunt ..."
As far asEsme was concerned, this was the most important night of her life. She'd been hoping all week that Cleav would ask her to the taffy pull. He hadn't, and she'd been a little disappointed about that. He was, however, letting her help in the store and with the fish. Sometimes too much. The jobs that would keep her away from him the longest were always the ones that he wanted her to do.
But she'd done them uncomplainingly. Whatever he'd asked, Esme Crabb had barreled right in and done whatever was necessary to please him. Esme thought it strange, however, that he never seemed too pleased.
She knew he'd be pleased tonight. How could he not? She was prettier than she'd ever been in her life. Why, she was just about as pretty as anybody she'd ever seen. The twins had seen to that.
They'd woken her early this morning to take her bath in the creek. Afterward they'd rinsed her hair in rainwater and crushed violets. While it was still damp, Adelaide had curled it up in rags. It had taken nearly all day to dry all tied up that way, but the result was worth it. Now dark blond ringlets flowed freely down her back like a waterfall with nothing to stay their course but the loosely tied satin ribbon that Armon had given Agrippa last Christmas.
The twins, too, had plans for the taffy pull. Since it was Saturday, Armon was to escort Adelaide, and Agrippa was coming with Pa. Pa had been rosining up the bow all afternoon, so Esme knew to anticipate plenty of music.
A pretty dress, fancy hair, and a satin ribbon. The only thing missing was a handsome beau to take her arm. Esme was confident she'd have that, too.
Her evening was laid out perfectly in her mind. Cleav would be attending the taffy pull at the church tonight. Esme would show up, as always, to follow him. As pretty as she looked tonight, he'd be purdy foolish not to just let her walk along next to him. Once all the folks had seen them arrive together, it'd be the same as if they were walking out.
She didn't expect him to walk her home, of course. But, surely, he'd be wanting to see her to the woods path. If for no other reason than to finally get that kiss he'd been thinking about.
Esme knew he'd been thinking about kissing her. For herself, well, she could barely think of anything else! She had to continually remind herself that the kissing part was only a means to an end. She was marrying Cleavis Rhy and moving her family into that big house. But she had to admit that proving to him that she was worth kissing was going to be a whole lot more fun than proving she could take care of the store.
Stopping by the edge of the path, she saw sprigs of wild phlox growing in the shade of a May apple. That's what she needed, color, she decided. She hastily pulled a handful and slipped a couple into the ribbon at the nape of her neck. Carefully she tucked a half dozen into the sash at her waist. The rest she gathered together in her hand for a small bouquet.
Flowers made a woman so feminine, she thought. And the pale purple would clear up the muddy blue of her eyes. When she reached the end of the path, she made a hasty adjustment to her drooping stockings, then set off toward the big white house.
"Mr. Cleavis Rhy," she said aloud for the birds and bees to hear. "The maiden of your dreams and the woman of your future is headed straight to your house."
If Cleav had known,he would have undoubtedly slipped out the back door.
Cleav, however, did not know and was at that moment busy thinking of his own pleasant plans for the evening and humming a ditty of his own.
Kiss me quick!and go! my honey
Kiss me quick and go!
