Authors: Goldie Browning
“Tyme!” Ivy screamed and ran out into the hall. Her heart pounded and she sobbed in terror.
“What’s the matter?” Tyme came running.
“I saw a ghost—in there!” Ivy shook as she pointed toward her bedroom.
“Was it Chauncey?”
“No, it was a little girl. She was playing with my music box.”
“Really?” Tyme’s eyes lit up and she smiled. “I’ve never known them to venture upstairs before.”
Ivy paced the floor. “Don’t smile Tyme, it’s not funny. I’m not sure I can deal with this. I don’t think I’m cut out to coexist with ghosts.” She shivered and glanced around the darkened hallway. The ticking clock seemed to intensify her fears.
“Honey, I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better, but I don’t. Do you want to go home?” Tyme gently patted Ivy’s back.
Ivy thought about her home. Papa was probably still in Joplin, so she’d be alone there. Even though she’d never seen or heard a ghost in her home in St. Louis, she didn’t want to be by herself in that rambling old house. And Harry was here in Eureka Springs. If she left now, she might never see him again.
“No, I don’t want to go home. I’ll be okay.” Her mind made up, she hugged Tyme. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a baby. We both need to get some sleep. Good night.”
“Well, good night,” replied Tyme. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
Ivy returned to her room and began preparing for bed. She looked sadly at her beautiful evening gown, afraid no amount of cleaning would ever remove the whiskey smell. Tyme ought to send Dr. Ballew a bill to replace it, Ivy thought. After all, it was his fault for getting drunk, attacking Harry, and splattering her dress in the aftermath.
She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the pewter music box. The delicate Limoges top displayed a miniature picture of a woman and a little girl dressed in Victorian costume. It really was a pretty little trinket. The picture must have reminded the ghost girl of something from her past.
When Ivy thought about the little spirit that way, she was no longer frightened. What could have happened to snatch her and her family away from life at such a young age? She felt sad at the thought and then ashamed at her previous fright. After all, the ghosts in this house had once been living people, with hopes and ambitions, feelings and pain. Even Chauncey—but she didn’t want to think about him.
Maybe she should give the music box to the little spirit girl as a gift? The idea warmed her heart and she picked it up, preparing to take it downstairs. But hadn’t Tyme said there were two children? She didn’t want to leave the other one out.
She rummaged through her dresser drawer and found a little tin whistle she’d discovered in a box of Cracker Jacks the day before. That’s good. She didn’t know if the other child was a boy or a girl, but she figured either one would enjoy such a gift. She gathered up both items and headed down the stairs.
Ivy scanned the darkened store, no longer afraid of what she might encounter. Now where should she put them? She looked around and found a rocking chair in a back corner. Surely the children would find them there. She left the presents, returned to her room, and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
“Tyme, how long did it take after you met Walter before you knew you were in love?” Ivy pulled an apple pie out of the kitchen window where it had been cooling and set it on the table.
“Oh, I knew right away. It was love at first sight, as they say.” Tyme smiled and looked at the pie. “That crust came out really nice.”
Ivy grinned back at her aunt. “So, do you like Clyde?”
“Yes, I do. I like him a lot.”
“Does he remind you of Walter?”
“Oh, heavens no,” Tyme exclaimed and bent down to check the wood in the stove. “They’re about as different as night and day.”
Ivy looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. How can you be in love with two people who are so different?”
“Now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I never said anything about being in love with Clyde. I just said I like him. He makes me laugh and he’s fun to be with—and boy can he dance!” Tyme closed her eyes and exhaled. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not ruling anything out at this point. It’s quite possible I could learn to love him.”
“I’m still confused. I thought you just told me you fell in love with Walter right away.” Ivy wrinkled her brow and folded her arms. “Why is this different?”
“Oh, honey. Every relationship is different.” Tyme put her hand on Ivy’s shoulder and looked into her face. “Sometimes love just comes out of nowhere and hits you up the side of the head. Sometimes it tiptoes in softly, sneaks up on you from behind, and just makes itself at home until you finally notice it and realize it’s there. There are as many ways to fall in love as there are hours in the day.”
Ivy gazed thoughtfully out the window. “Well, I think I got walloped the first way you said.” She giggled and rubbed the side of her head.
“I think you just might be right.”
Ivy turned back to her pie. “Do you think Harry will try to bid on my box supper?”
“Of course he will. I just hope he brings lots of money. That’s such a pretty box, he’s gonna have to fight half the men in the county over it,” replied Tyme. “Is your mother coming tonight?”
“Oh, I doubt it.” Ivy picked up a knife and began slicing the pie. “She doesn’t usually enjoy things like this—especially when it’s outdoors. Why?”
“Just wondering. You haven’t heard anything from Jared in a few days, have you?”
“No, thank goodness.” Ivy shuddered. “I think he and Papa were meeting in Joplin this week. I wonder what he thought about my telegram?”
“I wonder what he would think about Harry.”
“I know exactly, but I don’t care. I already know Harry’s twice the man Jared is. So Jared had better just stay away.”
“Let’s just hope he does.”
Ivy arranged the food on the Blue Willow china plate with care—fried chicken, potato salad, and corn bread. She put a generous helping of green beans into a small, lidded jar, and then included two large slices of homemade apple pie on a separate, covered dish. Carefully wrapping the food with wax paper, she then laid the plate, silverware, and other containers inside a red velvet covered hatbox. She picked up a yellow ribbon, tied it around the box, and made a neat bow.
“How does it look?”
“That’s really pretty. The ribbon gives it a nice, finished look.”
“Is that why you left it on my pillow this morning?”
“Left what?”
“The ribbon. It was lying on the bed when I woke up this morning.” Ivy frowned and looked at the decorated box. “I thought you left it.”
“No…I’ve never seen this ribbon before.” Tyme looked pensive as she ran her fingers across the yellow satin. “It looks different from the ones I sell in the store. This one seems older.” She bent down and sniffed. “It even smells old.”
“You don’t think?…”
“Think what?”
“Could the children have left it?” Ivy untied her apron and headed out of the room. “I’ve got to check on something.”
Tyme followed Ivy down the stairs into the darkened store. Ivy went straight to the rocking chair in the corner. It was empty, but she thought she detected a slight movement and a faint creaking sound. Her imagination must be playing tricks on her. She scanned the room, looking for the music box and whistle.
“Did you move them?” asked Ivy.
“Move what?”
And then, as if from a great distance, Ivy heard a faint toot toot and some other sound she couldn’t quite identify. She whirled around, trying to locate the source of the noise. An odd, tingling sensation coursed through her body, but she didn’t feel frightened. “Did you hear a whistle?”
“Um hm,” Tyme grinned at Ivy and then motioned for her to go back upstairs. “Come on. We’ve got to finish getting ready.”
Ivy smiled as she followed her aunt up the stairs. A sensation of warmth and well-being surrounded her. She grew excited at the prospect of seeing Harry again and she absent-mindedly hummed along with the tune Tyme was singing.
Harry brushed imaginary lint off the sleeve of his jacket, straightened his tie, and scanned the crowd for Ivy. It had been almost two days since he’d seen her and he’d spent a lot of that time trying to clean the whiskey out of his only jacket. But he’d managed it and now he was so excited he feared he might burst. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else, even while he reeled in the fish at Doc Pruett’s place.
This celebration was completely different from the one he’d attended two nights ago. The Fourth of July festival was outside, in the center of town. Three fiddlers and a man on banjo entertained the crowd from a newly erected bandstand at the Basin Spring Park.
Earlier in the day there had been a parade and a picnic, with sack races and watermelon eating contests. But Harry knew Ivy wouldn’t be here until later, so he’d stayed away until now. Brightly colored booths still lined the streets, selling everything imaginable, but they were beginning to shut down for the evening’s entertainment. At eight o’clock, the party was just beginning. Now that the blistering July sun had finally begun its descent beneath the western ridge of the Ozarks, everyone could relax and enjoy themselves.
“Hey, Harry. Look over there.” Clyde pointed across the crowd of people seated at the long picnic tables that had been brought in for the occasion. “There they are.”
Harry’s whole body tingled with excitement as he and Clyde made their way toward the two women. His breath caught when he saw Ivy up close. She didn’t look like a movie star anymore, but she seemed more beautiful than ever to him.
That pretty little blue dress she wore sure looked soft and frilly—but the best part was the way it showed off those perfect legs and slender ankles. Harry gave thanks to the fashion gods for letting the ladies wear their skirts a little shorter this year—almost to the knees.
He had to force himself not to stare at the satiny smooth skin of her bare arms and the little vee that formed right at the neckline of her frock, which hinted at the softly swelling bosom underneath. He liked her hair better this way too. Those bouncy little curls around her face made him want to reach out and run his fingers through them. His heart lurched when her green eyes flashed with recognition.
Clyde was the first to speak. “Hey, baby. Couldn’t wait to see ya again.” He walked over like he owned the place, straddled the bench, and sat next to Tyme.
“Me neither,” purred Tyme, still playing the vamp even in normal street attire. She had abandoned the black mourning clothes, opting instead for a hot pink dress and matching beret. She bent forward and pecked Clyde on the cheek.
Harry stood awkwardly. He wondered what he should do, since an older lady sat next to Ivy. She was quite a stunning woman, with light brown hair piled atop her head in an old-fashioned, Gibson girl style. Her face was pale and drawn, and she appeared to be in shock as she stared at Tyme and Clyde.
Ivy broke the silence. “Mama, I’d like you to meet Harry Fuller. Harry, this is my mother, Mrs. Turner.”
“How d’ya do, ma’am?” Harry removed his hat and bowed slightly.
“How do you do?” responded Winifred. Harry heard the suspicion in her tone.
“Scoot over, Clyde,” said Tyme. She wiggled around until there was room on the bench for Harry. “There you go, Harry. Now you can sit down with us.”
Harry felt about as welcome as an ant at a picnic when he saw the stare of mistrust on Winifred Turner’s face. But when he looked into his angel’s emerald eyes, all his discomfort melted away. She smiled at him and his heart sang with joy.
“Would ya just look at that.” Tyme whispered as she leaned toward Ivy and Harry. She pointed to the front table where the mayor and other dignitaries were seated.
“Hm. I guess Doc Pruett was right. Dr. Baker’s considered a VIP in this town.” Ivy whispered back, wrinkling her nose.
So that’s the infamous Dr. Baker. Harry gazed at the short little man in the dazzlingly white suit and purple shirt. He certainly acted like he owned the town, puffing on his big cigar, laughing, and slapping the mayor on the back. He thought about what Doc Pruett had said and frowned. He wondered how Ivy’s mother could fall for such a charlatan.