“If you must know, I'm meeting
with Pastor McConnell.
Now, Curiosity,
let's find Jack and have lunch.
I have
plans for you this afternoon, but I know you have to be fed first.”
He pulled her along, clearly a man on a
mission.
When they left Jack at the
door of the cafe, Emily tucked her arm through Stani's and turned toward the
church.
“Now tell me about these plans.”
“I want the grand tour.
The deluxe version, I think, with audio guide
and in-depth details.”
She stopped in her
tracks.
“What?”
Stani smiled indulgently.
“I want a tour of your world.
I'm willing to pay handsomely.
In New York, a good guided tour can cost a
bundle, especially with an expert guide.”
She laughed, looking around
the square for inspiration.
“I see.
Well, I can't promise 'expert' but I'll do my
best.
Where would you like to begin?
And you do realize this is it, these few
blocks?
It won't take very long.”
They began with the courthouse
itself.
“The
new
courthouse,
actually, built after a fire in 1882 destroyed the old one.
Note the painted brick, which is still a
topic for heated argument with some of the town fathers.
Jack's office is in the basement, by the way,
along with the three-cell jail, which is rarely occupied.”
Moving on, she took him past
the various offices—insurance, lawyers, real estate agents and surveyors.
When they came to the hardware store, with
its window display of snow shovels and coal buckets, he stopped her.
“I've always wondered just what is sold in a
hardware store.
I've never even seen one
in Manhattan, or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“Poor Stani!
Hardware stores are fascinating places.
Each one reflects to some degree the tastes
of the community it serves.
Here we have
everything from basic tools, to garden supplies and lumber, to all the
necessary items to stock a well-run country kitchen.
One stop will get you a good spade or
grubbing hoe, a finely balanced hammer and the best in seasoned two-by-fours,
and the latest model pressure cooker.
Not to mention in the spring when the sidewalk is lined with bedding
plants and fertilizer, you can load up your truck and make a real haul.”
“Whoa there!
I think you've lost me entirely.
I only recognized one or two of those items
you listed.
But I take it from your
enthusiasm this is one of your favorite shopping destinations.”
“Absolutely.
I can spend hours just browsing in
there.
If they don't have what you want
in stock, they have stacks of catalogs filled with the most amazing
things.
Jack teases me that the hardware
store is my research library.”
Stani gently brushed a
windblown strand of hair from her cheek.
“You really love it here, don't you?
You positively light up when you talk about it.”
Emily blushed, turning to lead
him further along the street.
“I know
it's all very ordinary, but yes, I love it.
When I was a little girl, I would come into town with Pop.
Everywhere we went everybody knew us and
seemed to genuinely care about us.
It
made me feel important when someone asked how my mother was doing, or how the
garden was coming along.
Now that I'm
back, everybody makes me feel included, like a part of the community.”
She swept her hand through the air, taking in
the four blocks of the square and all of the shop fronts.
“These people are my family, although I'm not
related to any one of them.
From Mr.
Harris at the bank, to Katie Malone at the flower shop, to Mr. Brown at the
market, to Martha Jean at the boutique, I know I can count on every one of them
to be there if I need anything.”
“Is there no family left at
all?
You never mentioned any.”
When she looked away, as if
caught off guard, Stani was immediately curious.
Staring off into the distance, her eyes
tearing slightly from the cold wind in her face, she answered, “A few distant
cousins on Mother’s side.
She was an
only child, raised by her grandmother after her parents died.
And an aunt, my father's sister, who lives in
Florida.
They were never close.”
It was clear that was all she had to say on
the subject.
“Now we'll go by Martha
Jean's.
Marjorie may be in the window,
taking her nap.”
“Marjorie?”
“The shop cat.
She came to stay with me once, when I
discovered I had field mice in the house.
We've been friends ever since.”
Pulling him along, she crossed the street, waving at an elderly couple
in a huge car stopped at the corner. “That's Mr. and Mrs. MacIntyre.
You met them in church this morning.”
“Oh, yes, the dapper old gent
who asked if I realized what a gem of a lass I had here.”
“Mr. Mac likes me.
And he's something of a flirt.”
“Why do I feel there may be
quite a few men in this town who 'like' you?”
“They raised me, Stani.
They feel they have to watch out for me.
I don't know why, but everybody seems to
think I need protecting.”
They paused next to the
display window at the boutique, where sure enough, Marjorie was in her usual
spot.
When Emily pecked on the glass,
the cat raised her flat face and stared at Stani a moment.
Then with a flick of her tail, she proceeded
to lazily lick her paws.
“Fascinating.
I've always thought
cats were creatures I might like to have around.”
“I'll have to introduce you to
Heathcliff and Catherine.”
“Who?”
Stani tapped on the glass and when he had
Marjorie's attention, waved goodbye.
“My barn cats, Cliff and Cat
for short.
We've only spent time in the
house.
I'll have to show you around the
rest of the farm.
But now I think we
should head back to the church.
It's
getting really cold out.”
She arranged
the tartan scarf higher around his neck.
“Did you get your money's worth?”
“Oh, yes.
Thank you.
Sometime, you'll have to introduce me to all your friends here.”
Emily laughed.
“That would set the tongues wagging.
Not that they wouldn't approve, every one of
them has been asking me when I was going to find a man.
For some reason, they want to see every girl
take that walk to the altar.
Try as I
might, I can't convince them I'm not anxious for that.”
“Aren't you?
Doesn't every girl dream of taking that
walk?”
When she turned to him, the
look in her eyes surprised him.
“Not
me.
I have my life arranged just the way
I want it, and now that I have you, it's perfect.
My feet are freezing.
Race you to the car!”
There was a battered green
pickup truck parked in the drive when they reached the farm.
“Oh, James is here.
Wonder what he's up to?”
Emily seemed not in the least upset by the
appearance of yet another visitor, this one apparently self-invited.
“James?”
Stani had not anticipated company.
It hardly fit into his plans, but then thus
far, his plans had been thwarted at every turn.
He would have to adjust his vision to include an entire community of
people who made themselves present at all hours of her days and nights, rarely
announcing their intentions.
“James McConnell, Pastor
Mike's oldest son.
He helps me out, sort
of a caretaker, while I'm away.”
Stani followed her to the rear
of the house, where some sort of rhythmic percussion echoed in the cold
air.
A tall, lean man, his long hair
blowing wildly in the wind, was chopping firewood.
With every fall of the ax, he let out a
groan, as if to release some inner anguish.
When he saw them approaching he stopped, resting the head of the ax on
the worn toe of his boot.
“James, what are you doing out
here on a Sunday afternoon?
This could
have waited.
I've got plenty of wood for
now.”
He smiled, or at least his
eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Hi,
Em.
I just thought you could use a
little more.
And I needed some air.”
She introduced him to Stani,
adding, “We missed you in church this morning.”
“I was thawing Miss Hagen's
pipes.
She refuses to keep the heat
turned up high enough at night.
Her
bathroom plumbing gets it every time we have a hard freeze.
Did you meet Pete's girl?”
Emily smiled.
“Yes.
She's very pretty.
And very
'Georgia'.”
“That voice!
She never stops talking.
I really thought my brother was smarter than
that, but there's no accounting for taste I guess.
Every time she says 'Peeta' with that little
giggle, I want to run for the hills.”
Now he smiled in earnest, and for the first time Stani saw past James’s
weathered face and wild hair to the intelligent blue eyes that were wise beyond
his years.
From the barn, two gray cats
emerged, apparently willing to venture out now that the wood splitting had
ceased.
“There you are, you two
scaredy-cats.
Come and say hello.”
Emily knelt and held out her hands to the cats,
who came running toward her.
Scooping
one into her arms, she held it close.
“This is Heathcliff, and the lady rubbing her fur off on your trousers
is Catherine.”
“Cliff's lost his bell again,
I guess you noticed.”
James scratched the
cat behind the ears, chuckling as it wriggled in Emily's arms.
“You just keep hoping you'll catch some poor,
geriatric bird, don't you, Cliff?”
“I got them to control the
field mice,” she explained to Stani, “but they also wanted to control the
songbird population.
Thus the
bells.
But Cliff here seems to have some
way of getting rid of his.
So far, he's
gone through at least a dozen.
Lucky for
the birds, he's not the quickest of cats.”
Stani moved closer, aware that
James McConnell was thoroughly at ease with Emily.
They made a striking pair, the tall rugged
man and the equally tall, slender girl.
Feeling every inch of his own five foot seven, he wondered if every man
in her life was going to be looking down on him.
“You wanted to get in where it's warm,
love.
Remember?”
He slipped an arm around her waist, giving
the cat a tentative stroke with his free hand.
“We took a little walk around
town.
My feet are frozen.
Come in for some hot chocolate when you're
done, James?”
She dropped the cat gently
to the ground, brushing fur from the front of her coat.
With a glance at Stani, James
smiled.
“Not this time, Em.
I still have to run up and check on Mrs.
O'Neil.
You know her son didn't make it
for Christmas this year?
Too busy, I
guess.
She's getting pretty frail, so
Jack asked me to sort of keep an eye on the place.”
He extended a gloved hand to Stani.
“Good to meet you.
I heard one of your recordings on the radio
just the other day.
A Beethoven sonata.”
Stani blinked up at him.
“You listen to classical music?”
He immediately regretted the incredulous tone
in his voice.
“That old thing” James jerked
his head toward the pickup, “has a pretty good radio.
Picks up the station from the University real
good, especially up on the ridges.”
With
a twinkle in his eyes, he added, “Before I decided to become a bumpkin, I got a
pretty good education.”