*****
DEBORAH TWIRLED THEyarn between her fingers, the soft click-clack of knitting needles a comforting cadence against the hum of conversation. The other girls were excited, their excitement palpable in the sunlit parlor of the orphanage. But beneath Deborah's calm exterior lay a roiling sea of trepidation.
"Imagine all those cowboys," Amy gushed, "tall and handsome!" Deborah knew that Amy wanted a family of her own more than anything. Amy was calm and difficult to ruffle, and Deborah could see her with her own children. It was easy to imagine.
"Yes," Deborah murmured, eyes on her knitting, imagining instead the vast, open Texas skies that awaited them.
"Deb, you'll be the belle of the ball with your dainty stitches!" Cassandra grinned, leaning over to admire the delicate patterns emerging from Deborah's nimble work.
"Hardly," Deborah replied softly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "It's just knitting."
"More than 'just,' I'd say," Brenda chimed in, casting a knowing glance Deborah's way.
A hush fell as they turned to see Mrs. Jackson enter, her presence always commanding gentle respect.
"Girls, remember, this dance is about new beginnings," Mrs. Jackson reminded them. "It's a chance to find family, love—"
"Or both!" Erna interjected, earning a chorus of giggles.
But for Deborah, the mention of love knotted her stomach tight. Her past experiences had been frayed at best. She’d been adopted for a year before she was returned. She remembered a father who was a whisper of a memory, who had run off when she’d been little and a mother’s suitor whose eyes had lingered too long, his hands too eager. She shied away from those memories, focusing on the steady rhythm of knit and purl.
"Jane, my dear," Mrs. Jackson said softly, turning to the youngest of the group, "you know you're not to join the others in Texas."
Jane nodded, her expression tinged with disappointment. "I understand, Mrs. Jackson. Eighteen feels so far away."
"Your time will come," Mrs. Jackson assured her, placing an affectionate hand on Jane's shoulder.
"Will it?" Deborah thought, her heart aflutter with unease. "Can time unravel the past?"
"Deborah, are you all right?" Hannah asked, noticing her friend's distant gaze.
"Of course," Deborah answered, her voice a whisper lost in the chatter of hopeful hearts.
"Texas will be grand," Faith added, trying to coax a smile from Deborah. "New people, new places..."
"New fears," Deborah nearly said aloud but caught herself.
"Perhaps," she conceded instead, her smile more a promise to herself than a reflection of joy. She decided then. She would go to Texas, not for romance, but for the hope that maybe, just maybe, the dance could help her learn to face her fears.
*****
DEBORAH STOOD BEFOREthe cracked mirror, tugging at the hem of her simple cotton dress. The fabric felt rough against her fingertips, a stark contrast to the delicate yarns she was accustomed to weaving into warmth. Her reflection showed a woman, barely past girlhood, with tendrils of brown hair escaping the practical bun at the nape of her neck.
"Looks fine to me," Amy commented from behind her, her voice brimming with the same enthusiasm that filled the room.
"Thank you, Amy," Deborah replied, her words careful and measured.
"Are you excited?" Cassandra asked, bustling about with last-minute preparations.
"Excited... yes, and nervous," Deborah confessed, allowing herself a moment of honesty.
"Those men won't know what hit them!" Brenda chimed in, her laughter echoing around the walls of the dormitory they shared. Brenda had worked in Beckham as a nanny, but with the matchmaking dance coming up, she was back living in the foundling home with the others.
"Men are just people, like us," Gail said, catching Deborah's eye. Her tone was matter-of-fact, an attempt to bridge the gap between fear and reality. Only Cassandra knew that Deborah was afraid of men, but the others all knew she was shy around them. They often tried to help her feel better in social situations.
"Perhaps," Deborah murmured, her gaze drifting towards the window.
"Remember, it’s just a dance," Hannah reminded her, her voice soothing like a lullaby.
