“Thank you, Mrs. Harrison. I would love to come again. Maybe when the harvest is over.”
She hurried out of the store to avoid further conversation and noticed an unfamiliar horse and buggy drawing to a halt across the street. No one she knew could afford such a fine rig. Three other women from town had stopped to stare at it, too.
“Who in the world could that be?” one of them asked.
“Someone who is lost, no doubt.”
But to Bebe’s amazement, the man who stepped down from the high leather seat to tie the horse to the hitching post was none other than Horatio Garner. He looked as rich as the king of England in his waistcoat and bowler hat and shiny black shoes. He would have been right in style on the streets of Philadelphia, but he looked quite overdressed among the simple, hardworking people of New Canaan. The other women stared at him, as slack-mouthed as a string of dead trout.
Horatio turned when he’d finished securing the reins, and headed across the street toward the women. When he spotted Bebe his grin outshone the moon. He swept off his hat and bowed, his fair hair and reddish beard glinting like gold in the sunlight.
“Good afternoon, Miss Monroe. How fortunate that we should meet this way. You’re the very person I came to see.”
“Me?” she squeaked.
“Yes, you!” His laughter filled the quiet street. “Why are you so surprised?”
She didn’t know what to say. Happiness and dismay began a tug of war inside her heart. She was thrilled to see Horatio again, but he had stumbled upon the real Bebe Monroe, dressed in a patched skirt and a faded shirtwaist, not the idealized version of her that he had met in Philadelphia. Now he would see that her life in the village was as dull as a log of wood, that she lived in a simple frame farmhouse, and that she worked as hard as his servants did.
“Will you excuse us, please?” he asked the gaping women. He grasped Bebe’s elbow and gently led her away. “Is there a café where we could find a bite to eat?”
Now it was Bebe’s turn to laugh. “This isn’t Philadelphia, Mr. Garner. There’s no café. In fact, you’ll have to drive all the way back to the last town you passed just to find a place to sleep tonight.”
“Is your home nearby? Perhaps I could trouble you for a glass of lemonade on the porch?”
“I live two miles down that road,” she said, pointing. “But I’m quite sure there are no lemons in the pantry . . . and I wouldn’t know how to make lemonade, even if we could afford such luxuries.”
“How is Franklin doing?”
“Good . . . good . . . a little better every day.”
“I’m very pleased to hear it. And although he is my very good friend, the truth is that it was you I came to see.”
Bebe’s heart thrummed inside her chest like hummingbirds’ wings. She tried to speak but nothing came out.
“I’ve missed you, Beatrice,” he said softly. “Ever since you left Philadelphia, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”
She had to find her voice, had to say something. “I-I missed you, too. But I’m afraid that you have the wrong impression of me. As you can see, my hometown is—”
“I brought you something. I’m dying to see how you like it.” He rooted through his coat pockets while he talked. “I happened to pass a jewelry store one afternoon on the way to my attorney’s office, and I saw this in the store window. It was so dainty and beautiful—it reminded me of you.”
He pulled out a velvet-lined jeweler’s box and opened it to show Bebe a small gold locket inside. She couldn’t breathe. How was it possible that a handsome, wealthy man like Horatio had come looking for her, bringing her a present?
“I would be so honored if you would accept it as a gift from me. May I see how it looks on you?” He removed it from the box and reached over her shoulders to fasten it around her neck. They stood inches apart. She smelled the clean, spicy scent of his hands.
“But I . . . this old dress . . .”
“Nothing you wore could ever diminish your loveliness.”
“Thank you, I-I . . .” Bebe felt completely overwhelmed. She wanted to let go of all caution and allow herself to be swept away by Horatio, but she was terrified that he would leave when he discovered the truth about her, and she would drown in disappointment.
“I forgot to show you, but look—the locket opens.” He took another step closer as he pried it open for her. “See? There’s a place inside to put a picture of your beloved or a lock of his hair.”
“Oh . . . it’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Thank you, Horatio. No one has ever given me . . . I mean, I’ve never . . . I don’t know what to say. . . .”
Bebe’s heart lost the battle. The grip he had on her was too powerful to escape, even if she had wanted to. Seeing Horatio again thrilled her, and she was so amazed by the gift he’d given her that she wanted to whirl and dance in the street. She could have floated home on a cloud of happiness. She drew a shaky breath and said, “Come home with me, Horatio.”
“Thank you. I would be honored.”
She untied her own horse and wagon and led the way to her farm. Her mother stopped removing laundry from the line to watch as Horatio’s buggy pulled into the yard behind the farm wagon. Bebe took his arm and led him over to meet her mother. Hannah silently eyed the locket.
“Look who I met in town, Mama. This is Franklin’s friend, Horatio Garner—”
“I hope that I am your friend, as well, Beatrice.”
“Yes, of course. But Franklin knew him first, Mama, from the war. And then they were in the hospital together in Philadelphia . . . and that’s where I met him.”
Horatio swept off his hat and bowed. “How do you do, Mrs. Monroe?”
Hannah smiled in return. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Garner. I’m sure Franklin will be glad to see you, too. He’s working out in the barn at the moment. If you just walk through that open door across the way, I’m sure you’ll find him.”
“Thank you.” But Horatio gazed at Bebe, not in the direction where Hannah had pointed. Bebe didn’t want to let him out of her sight and would have escorted him to the barn, but Hannah gently pulled her away from Horatio, linking arms with her.
“Come, Beatrice. You can help me finish folding the laundry, and then we’ll get started in the kitchen. You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you, Mr. Garner?”
“Thank you. It’s very kind and gracious of you to offer.”
Bebe couldn’t take her eyes off Horatio as he crossed the barnyard, mindful of where he stepped in his shiny black shoes. She continued to stare at the empty barn doorway after he’d disappeared through it. Hannah finished taking the clothes off the line, then led Bebe into the kitchen.
“I see he brought you a present.”
“Yes. Isn’t it beautiful?” Bebe fingered the necklace, amazed that he would give her something so lovely.
“It looks very costly.”
“I-I guess so . . . Horatio’s family is wealthy. His father owns a tannery. They have servants.” None of those statements had anything to do with the joy and wonder Bebe felt at that moment.
Mama stopped working and turned to look at her. “Oh, Beatrice,” she said with a sigh. “Anyone with a pair of eyes can see that you have feelings for each other.”
“Really, Mama? Do you really think he has feelings for me?”
“I don’t know where this is going to lead, but before you get swept away, you need to remember that the strongest marriages are between couples who share the same faith and the same values. If money is the most important thing to him—”
“It isn’t, Mama! I mean . . . at least it doesn’t seem to be important. He has always been very kind and generous to Franklin. They’re friends.”
“And what about Mr. Garner’s faith? Does he trust in God or in his wealth and position?”
Bebe didn’t know the answer. She turned away so her expression wouldn’t betray her doubts. Horatio had never spoken of his faith.
“It’s a wonderful thing to fall in love, Beatrice. But make sure that both you and the man you marry love the Lord even more than each other.”
She nodded but her mother’s words were sliding off like rain on glass. She felt as though she’d been caught up in a whirlwind as she tried to comprehend the fact that Horatio Garner was here—on her farm. He had come to see
her
. And he had brought her a present.
Horatio looked even more out of place at dinnertime, seated at the table beside her burly father and brothers. But if Horatio felt uncomfortable, he never showed it. He gazed across the table at Bebe as if she were the only person in the room while he filled the normally quiet dinner hour with a never-ending stream of words. Now that he’d entered her world, Bebe would never be content without him. The emptiness he would leave behind would be just like the ache she felt every time she saw her brother Joseph’s vacant chair or his unused bed. Was this what falling in love was like?
“What are your plans, Mr. Garner?” Bebe’s father asked when dinner ended and Horatio had praised Mama’s cooking for several minutes.
“Well, as I explained to Franklin earlier, one of the reasons I’ve come is to pass along the name of a doctor I’ve heard about. He has the knowledge and expertise to fix up Franklin with a brand-new leg. And to show my appreciation for the friendship we shared, I also came to offer him a job in my family’s business. We’re in need of a new clerk, someone to handle the customers’ orders and keep the books.”
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Garner. I’m sure Franklin is grateful.”
“I am,” Franklin said. “But I don’t think I’d make a very good clerk. I never cared much for schoolwork—and I don’t think I’d like to sit at a desk inside a building all day. I’m not exactly sure what I’ll do for a job, but thanks for the offer.”
“Of course, of course. But be sure to let me know if you change your mind.”
“You’re welcome to spend the night if you’d like more time to visit,” Bebe’s mother said. “It’s too late to travel anywhere else to spend the night.”
“Thank you. It’s most kind of you to extend such wonderful hospitality to me. I shan’t burden you for very long, I promise. I noticed this afternoon how hard everyone works, and I would hate to get in your way, especially at harvesttime.” Horatio glanced at Bebe and smiled before turning back to her father. “But there is one other matter of great importance that I would like to discuss with you, Mr. Monroe. Might I have a moment to speak with you in private?”
Henry nodded in agreement. Horatio started to rise, then quickly sat down again when Henry reached for his Bible to read the evening’s Scripture passage. Bebe didn’t hear a word of it. Her heart galloped in anticipation of what Horatio was about to ask her father, hoping and praying that he was going to ask for her hand in marriage. She thought her father would never finish reading the passage. His closing prayer seemed endless. At last he said “Amen” and scraped back his chair. As Henry led Horatio into the parlor, Bebe abandoned her mother and the supper dishes and ran upstairs to eavesdrop through the vent in the bedroom floor.
She arrived in time to hear Horatio say, “I want you to know, Mr. Monroe, that I developed very tender feelings for your daughter, Beatrice, during her month-long stay in Philadelphia. I had the opportunity to get to know her as she cared for Franklin, and I discovered what a remarkable woman she is. Those feelings didn’t diminish after we parted. In fact, I found myself unable to get her out of my mind. And so what I am trying to say is that I would be very grateful if you would grant me the honor of marrying your daughter—if she will have me.”
Tears of joy filled Bebe’s eyes. She longed to cover her face and weep at the wonder of Horatio’s proposal, but then she wouldn’t be able to hear her father’s response. She pressed her fist against her mouth. The pressure of holding back her happiness felt like a dam about to burst.
“I want you to know that I am able to provide well for her,” Horatio continued. “My family owns a very profitable leather tan- nery, which I will inherit one day. I’m in a position to build Beatrice the finest house in town and staff it with servants and—”
Henry interrupted with a grunt, as if unimpressed with Horatio’s wealth. Bebe held her breath, waiting to hear his reply. “Are you a believer, Mr. Garner?” To Henry, that would be the most important question.
“Oh yes, sir. Most assuredly so. I’ve been baptized and confirmed in the Christian church, and our family worships together regularly. Your son Franklin can attest to my character, having shared a tent with me while we served together in the army.”
Another lengthy silence followed. Bebe peeked through the grate and saw Horatio perched on the edge of his chair as if anticipating an answer at any moment.
“I’ll pray about it,” Henry finally said. Bebe closed her eyes in despair, well aware of how long that might take. Why couldn’t her father be like other people, who made prayer seem as simple as tossing a ball up in the air and catching it again when it came down?
“Yes . . . of course,” Horatio replied. But when her father stood to return to his evening chores, Bebe saw Horatio’s shoulders slump. She composed herself and hurried downstairs to rescue him from her father’s silence.
“Would you care to go for a walk with me, Horatio?”
“That would be lovely, if . . .” He glanced at Hannah, who was clearing the table, then back at Bebe. “If . . . if you would excuse us, please, Mrs. Monroe.”
Bebe led Horatio past the barn and through the pasture and stopped beside the swing overlooking the river. “What a charming swing,” Horatio said. “And in such in a charming setting. I can picture you as a rosy-cheeked girl playing here on a summer afternoon.”
Bebe nodded, certain that he pictured her in a lacy white dress with her dark hair in ringlets and ribbons. What would he think if he saw her swinging in Franklin’s baggy overalls and work boots? “Horatio, I need to tell you about my childhood—”
“I’m certain it was more idyllic than mine. A bout of rheumatic fever as a child left me too weak for outdoor activities. I confess that afterward my mother coddled me in many ways. How I would have loved the rugged outdoor life that Franklin and your other brothers led. But as the only son, I was expected to inherit our family’s business.”
“That’s just the thing . . . you see, while my brothers were away at war . . .”