"Maria Bennett" and all original material included in this story are the creations of Darcie Daniels.
Setting: November 1881
“But Newton, Mr. Beals has promised me one of his turkeys this year. You simply must come to Thanksgiving dinner.”
Maria tried every possible enticement she could think of to get her blood brother over for dinner. Stuffing, potato salad, turkey, and pie – nothing was working. Mr. Call sat on his bench obstinately.
“Please?” she begged. “Someone has to make biscuits. Everyone knows you make the best biscuits in town.”
He looked at her as if she was crazy, rolled his eyes, and then looked off to the distance.
Maria suspected that a large part of Mr. Call’s refusal was due to Austin. Maria had known that things had always been unpleasant between them. Tensions were even more so since Austin claimed Mr. Call’s bounty while the blond man was gravely wounded. Maria regarded her blood brother. He appeared remarkably healthy. It had only been two months.
“If it’s Austin,” Maria continued, “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behavior.”
The blond man scrutinized her. “How are you gonna do that?” he asked skeptically.
Maria was unsure, and she sat down on Mr. Call’s bench in frustration. She took off her bonnet and fiddled with its black ribbons.
“You know Austin,” Mr. Call spat out after a moment. “I’d rather eat my dinner in peace.”
“He might behave,” Maria wished out loud.
Mr. Call nodded and then looked sadly at something across the street. “He won’t if I’m around. I rub him wrong. We just ain’t friends.”
Maria looked at him. He wore a mask of aloofness to hide his pain of losing his brother-in-law. She wished that there was something she could do.
“He doesn’t like me much, either, Newton.”
His blue eyes gazed back at her and then settled to some clump of dirt on the boardwalk.
“All the more reason for you to come to dinner, Newton. We need each other for moral support.”
His eyes briefly entertained hope, but then it was quickly replaced with certainty. He would have nothing to do with it. He waved her off.
Maria sighed. Perhaps he knew best. Austin had been particularly difficult to handle lately. Having both Austin and his former brother-in-law in the same room was only inviting trouble. Yet Maria longed for a normal, loving family. She knew it could be possible. How she missed her Aunt Elinor.
‘I will save you a plate, Newton,” Maria told him. “I don’t want you to starve on Thanksgiving.”
Mr. Call looked up from the ground only to stare across the road. He gave her a slight shrug.
Maria laughed at him. He really was a warm and generous soul. She thought the world of him.
“Now,” she said, placing her bonnet on her head. She tied the black ribbon into a neat bow. “If you are not coming, I shall find someone who will. Thanksgiving is all about friends and family, you know.
“How do I look?” she said, straightening her hat. She had to look her best. She felt that she had another battle on her hands with the next person she wanted to ask. She did not, however, intend to lose this one.
Mr. Call gave her a grunt and looked away aloofly. “Go on, now. Git. Can’t you ever leave a man in peace?”
Yet, when it came down to it, Maria lost her nerve. What if he said no? What if he did not hold as much regard for her as she did for him? What if he had other plans?
Maria bit her lip as she watched him talk with Mr. Mosby’s men. Robert Shelby got along well with them. He seemed to captain them as he would a regiment. Mr. Mosby, of course, was always boss, but Mr. Shelby did not seem to mind. He seemed willing to follow Mr. Mosby’s requests.
She wondered how much he was like Mr. Mosby. She remembered asking Mr. Mosby to Thanksgiving dinner the previous year. He politely refused, and when Maria pressed him, he told her that he could not celebrate a “Yankee” holiday. Maria wondered if Mr. Shelby felt the same way. Maria sighed. She supposed he did, but she wanted him to come to dinner anyway.
There was only one person that knew Robert Shelby well and had influence over him. Maria knew she would have to talk to Mr. Mosby. But it was even more difficult getting him alone than it was Mr. Shelby. Luckily, the town proprietor was alone, smoking a cigar.
He seemed distracted by something. Maria followed his gaze. It was on Miss Florie’s house. Mr. Mosby had the elegant house built for her during her confinement. Miss Florie was due any day now.
Maria thought that Mr. Mosby ought to marry Miss Florie. It was not right making her wait all this time. Maria supposed that Mr. Mosby was waiting for the baby’s arrival. But still, it was better for the baby that Mr. Mosby marry Miss Florie as soon as possible.
She wondered if those thoughts were racing through Mr. Mosby’s mind. It certainly did not seem a good time to bother him. Reluctantly, Maria turned away from him. She supposed that she would have to question him about Mr. Shelby later – that is, if she ever got the chance.
“Miss Bennett,” she heard Mr. Mosby call to her.
She turned back to face him. Whatever reverie he had been in was over. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
She was still hesitant to bother him. She looked over at Mr. Shelby across the street. She straightened her bonnet.
“Miss Bennett, I thought pink was your favorite color.”
Maria looked back at Mr. Mosby with confusion, and then realized that he was talking about the black ribbon on her bonnet.
“It’s for President Garfield,” she explained. The president had died nearly two months ago, and Maria had worn some sort of black ever since as sign of respect and mourning. Besides, someone was always getting killed or maimed. Black was not altogether unbefitting in Curtis Wells.
Mr. Mosby took off his hat and bowed his head. Then he replaced it. “It was unfortunate,” he commented.
Maria nodded. “I wonder if this was how people felt when President Lincoln was killed. I was too young to remember much about it.”
Memories darkened Mr. Mosby’s features. “I was going home then, but I didn’t know that my home was already gone.”
Maria frowned. So much of his life was destroyed during the War. It was a wonder that he did not hate all Northerners, herself included.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mosby.”
Mr. Mosby threw his cigar on the boardwalk and ground it with his heel. “I wasn’t inviting your pity, Miss Bennett.”
Maria bit her lip. This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. “Well, you won’t get it, Mr. Mosby. I was just hoping to get your advice on something.”
He had a look of annoyance in his eyes. “What?”
Maria sighed. Mr. Mosby was not in good humor.
“I was just thinking about how things were last year,” Maria said. “I invited you to Thanksgiving dinner. Remember?”
His face softened somewhat. “Yes, I do.”
Maria smiled fondly. “We were better friends then.”
Mr. Mosby smiled sadly in return. “Yes, we were.”
Maria gazed across the street to Miss Florie’s house. Much seemed to happen over one year.
Mr. Mosby cleared his throat. “What can I do for you, Miss Bennett?”
When it came down to it, Maria was afraid to ask him. What if Mr. Mosby only confirmed what she thought originally – that Mr. Shelby would refuse to come to dinner?
“Do all Southern gentleman feel the same way about Thanksgiving as you do?” she began hesitantly. “I mean, if I asked someone else to dinner, would he give me the same answer as you would? Not that I wouldn’t ask you again I would if I thought you would come. I just wondered that if I asked someone else whether he might say ‘yes.’ Do you think he would, Mr. Mosby? I mean, hypothetically, of course. Are all Southern gentleman just like you?”
Mr. Mosby scrutinized her for a moment and gave a hearty laugh. His voice dropped down confidentially, “I cannot speak for all of us, Miss Bennett. But I do know this – any Southern gentleman would be highly flattered if a woman such as yourself invited him to dinner. Whether he accepts it or not, well, that would be up to him, I suppose.”
Maria frowned. That was not the answer she was hoping for.
“Is there a good way to go about asking, do you think, Mr. Mosby? I mean, what is the best way to ask a Southern gentleman to Thanksgiving dinner? Let’s say you were someone else -- what would I say to get you to come?”
Mr. Mosby grinned at her. “Miss Bennett, I do believe all you would have to do is ask. A pretty woman such as yourself, why, it would be difficult for a man to refuse.”
Maria blushed, but she did not want flattery. She wanted to be certain. “Will he say ‘yes,’ though?”
“That would be up to him, now wouldn’t it?”
Maria stomped her foot.
Mr. Mosby laughed. “Miss Bennett, I cannot give you any more advice than that. You will simply have to ask him.”
Maria bit her lip. Then she looked at him conspiratorially. “Perhaps you could say something on my behalf ”
Mr. Mosby held up his hands, laughing. “Oh no. This is something you’ll have to face on your own. You’ll be fine, believe me.”
“He simply must come,” Maria said, looking across the street at Mr. Shelby.
“It’s the asking that matters, Miss Bennett. I must say, he’s a lucky man,” Mr. Mosby commented, following her gaze. He tipped his hat. “Good day to you, Miss Bennett.”
She nodded at him as he walked away, still looking across the street at Mr. Shelby. “Good day to you, Mr. Mosby.”
Maria frowned. She still did not know a good way to ask Mr. Shelby to dinner.
Maria could not believe her luck. Mr. Shelby was actually alone in the Lonesome Dove dining room. There was none of Mr. Mosby’s men with him. Mr. Mosby was not present. There were no diners in the room except for Mr. Shelby. The Lonesome Dove was virtually deserted. It was the perfect time to ask him.
Her heart raced, yet her feet would not move. She gulped when he smiled at her and motioned her over to his table.
Nervously, she allowed him to guide her into a chair. He ordered her some tea as she tried to take off her gloves. He observed her shaking hands.
“Here, let me.” Mr. Shelby moved to a chair very near to her and helped peal off her gloves.
Maria blushed, knowing that his behavior was rather shocking, but she could not stop him from continuing.
“No wonder,” Mr. Shelby commented, rubbing her fingers. “Your hands are like ice.”
When his warm fingers touched hers, Maria could hear the thudding of her heart. She had been nervous, she remembered, but she nearly forgot why. His boyish grin also did not help matters.
“Robert?”
“Hmm?” he answered when he felt that her fingers were sufficiently warm. His hand still lingered on hers.
She had entered the room to ask him something. Yes now she remembered. It was something about Thanksgiving. When she tore her gaze away from his, suddenly all her fears returned back to her. She bit her lip.
“Do you like Yankees? No, I mean holidays. Yankee holidays. Do you like Yankee holidays?” Maria winced as she heard her foot land squarely in her mouth. “Of course, you don’t like Yankee holidays. What I want to ask you is if you mind them so much. If someone asked you, that is. Would you mind so much if someone asked you?”
Mr. Shelby seemed bewildered by her rambling. “Slow down there, Maria,” he said, squeezing her hand to steady her. “What are you trying to say?”
He seemed to be missing the entire point.
“Yankee holidays,” she continued. “Would you mind a Yankee holiday if someone asked you to join in with them? I’m a Yankee,” Maria told him, her voice almost reaching the point of hysteria. “Please tell me that you don’t hate all Yankees. Or especially when a Yankee invites you to a holiday dinner. Or to a particularly Yankee holiday dinner.”
He laughed at her, still confused. “There’s one Yankee I cannot help but like.” He gently brushed her hand against his lips.
Maria forgot what she was saying and blushed deeply. She could not bring herself to pull her hand away from his, even when she knew it was the most prudent thing to do. She was glad he was the only person except herself in the dining room.
“Robert,” she admonished him to let go of her hand.
He grinned boyishly, still holding her fingers. “What’s this about a dinner?”
Maria bit her lip. She had better ask him straight away. “Thanksgiving dinner. I want you to come to Thanksgiving dinner this year.”
His grip on her hand loosened as a dark memory clouded his features. He shook off the memory and then frowned. He pulled his hand away from hers.
“I don’t think I can, Maria,” he told her gently.
Maria was afraid of this. He refused to come to Thanksgiving dinner for the same reason as Mr. Mosby did the previous year. She remembered Mr. Mosby’s words from a year ago that he would not have a “Yankee” dictating to him when and how he should be thankful. She remembered that he could not stomach such a thing. Mr. Shelby must have felt the same way, and she knew that there was nothing she could say to get him to come.
Maria felt like crying, but she tried to collect herself. She must not let him see how disappointed she was.
“I understand,” Maria said, trying to smile. She stirred some sugar into her tea.
Mr. Shelby sighed. “Did Clay ever tell you anything about what happened during the War?”
Maria shook her head. “I know it had been difficult for him. He rarely spoke of it.”
“Did you know that we were in a prison camp together during that last year?”
She remembered the awful circumstances in which Mr. Mosby told her about it. Two savage men nearly raped her, and Mr. Mosby saved her life. She did not want to think of it. “He said something of it a long time ago,” Maria finally brought herself to say.
“Those Yankee bastards beat us every day,” Mr. Shelby told her, his voice shuddering at the memory. “They also starved us. They had plenty of food, all right, but they didn’t think we deserved it, being Johnny Rebs and all. I remember your Thanksgiving. Your Mr. Lincoln declared it a national holiday during the last year we were in prison. They chained us and beat us up especially good that day, and then they ate their turkey in front of us. We had nothing but blood in our mouths and rumbling in our stomachs. I can’t remember I time when I ever felt so low.”
Maria stared at him, horrified. She did not know what to say to him.
“Do you understand now?” he asked her.
Maria thought she did. “Your pride is what kept you alive during that time. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to come to dinner.”
He smiled weakly at her. “Not so much pride, but honor. There is no honor in what those men did that day.”
She leaned forward and clasped his hand. “Robert, please let me try to make up for all that. I know that I can’t do much that the turkey and stuffing really don’t mean anything when it comes right down to it. But if you could only see it through my eyes. I want you there because I value you. To be fair, Austin will be there, and he can’t stand you. Uncle Josiah will probably interrogate your intentions towards me. If Newton comes, he will probably look on you suspect because you are friends with Mr. Mosby.” Maria laughed, because she knew that these arguments were not helping her case. “But I want you there. I think you are wonderful, Robert. It would honor me greatly if you would come.”
He smiled and slowly took her hand to his lips. He inhaled deeply, caressing her hand with his cheek. He looked at her as if savoring her.
“Robert?” Maria asked hopefully.
He finally nodded, still pressing her hand against his cheek. He smiled and gently returned her hand to the table. “It’s against my better judgment,” he added.
She grinned at him. “You won’t be sorry.”
He looked at her dubiously. “If you say so.”
She found herself extremely sorry that they were having a dinner at all. She spent all the previous day cooking, and she spent the entire Thanksgiving morning and afternoon cooking. Cooking, cooking, cooking. The Peale men, of course, did nothing to help. They “supervised.”
Supervised her foot, Maria thought. They were in her kitchen, getting their fingers into her preparations. She took to chasing them out with a wooden spoon. She was as fast as any gunfighter with that wooden spoon. She knew with satisfaction that her uncle Josiah and cousin Austin had the most smarting fingers in town.
Everything smelled very nice, but the house itself was in a bit of disorder. While Maria was in the kitchen, she could not stop her uncle and cousin from being men. Every time she stepped out of the kitchen, Maria found herself picking up blankets or shoes or clothes. Then she would have to chase one or both them out of the kitchen when she returned. The whole event was rather trying.
It got down to the very hour when Mr. Shelby said that he would come. Maria had not even cleaned up yet, and still the dinner table needed to be set. She looked at the deplorable condition of the silverware. They were tarnished.
Austin sat in a chair as Maria polished a knife. He watched her with indifference as he munched on an apple.
“You could help, you know,” Maria suggested.
Austin shrugged. “Not my dinner.”
Maria frowned at him as she picked up a fork.
Just then, her uncle came into the room. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Dr. Cleese over for Thanksgiving.”
“Uncle Josiah,” Maria admonished him. He should have given her more warning.
“We have plenty,” Josiah told her.
“Yes, we do, but I don’t think we’ll have enough chairs,” she said.
Austin smirked. “Real shame. We’ll have to kick out Shelby.”
Maria glared at him as Josiah gave him a look of warning. Austin shrugged again.
Austin, of course, had been resistant to the idea of inviting Mr. Shelby over for dinner. With much pleading on her part, Austin finally agreed not to say anything to Mr. Shelby. He told her that if she wanted to ruin her life, that it was her own doing. He would not try to stop her.
Austin was a real gem, Maria thought as she placed down a teaspoon a little too roughly. She wanted this day to be perfect for Mr. Shelby, and she knew her cousin would do or say something to upset him.
Perhaps it was good that Dr. Cleese was coming to dinner. Perhaps there would be less tension between Mr. Shelby and the rest of the Peale men if Dr. Cleese served as a buffer. Maria only hoped that he would not talk about the newest surgical techniques in the middle of dinner. She knew that Dr. Cleese had the tendency to do that.
She only bemoaned the fact that they did not have a complete service for four, let alone five. Some salad forks and teaspoons were missing. She knew that there was nothing more elegant than dining with the proper eating utensils. Maria would have to maneuver Mr. Shelby into the proper chair that had all the correct forks. She would also have to make sure Austin sat in the furthest chair away from him.
Just then, there was a knock of the door. Maria gasped. She was not yet ready. She had flour all over sleeves, and she had to look a mess. She had no time to run into the other room before her uncle opened the door.
Maria sighed with relief. It was only Dr. Cleese. He took off his hat and nodded to them all. He politely thanked them for having him over for dinner. Josiah motioned him over to a chair and poured him a drink. Josiah and Dr. Cleese began to discuss politics. Austin did not participate in their discussion. Maria was not sure he was even listening. He continued to watch her set the table.
Another knock on the door startled her. It had to be Mr. Shelby.
She looked at the clock on the wall. He was right on time.
She did not know where the time went as she struggled with the knot in her apron strings. She dashed into the other room as her uncle welcomed in the new guest. She wrestled out of her apron and quickly straightened her hair. She could plainly hear the men’s voices in the other room. She took a deep breath and calmly returned to the room.
The men were all sitting in the parlor. Her uncle had poured Mr. Shelby a drink in Maria’s absence. When the men noticed that she had entered the room, Mr. Shelby and Dr. Cleese stood up. Maria smiled warmly at Mr. Shelby. He was very handsome that day.
He smiled at her in return. “You’re no longer wearing black,” he commented.
“No,” she said, blushing. She decided that two months of mourning were enough.
“You look very nice,” Mr. Shelby complemented her. “And everything smells delicious.”
“Yes, I’ve been looking forward to this dinner,” Dr. Cleese added, straightening the spectacles on his face. “Josiah has told me all about your pie. Sweets and pastries contain high amounts of sugar, and I wouldn’t normally indulge in such things, but I feel in this case that I must make the exception.”
Maria nodded at him absentmindedly and continued to smile at Mr. Shelby. When she straightened her dress, she noticed that she still had flour all over her sleeves. She frowned in alarm.
Luckily, her uncle signaled to the party that they should all sit at the table. Maria quickly excused herself, telling the men that she had to get an extra chair from the bedroom. When she looked in the vanity, she grimaced. She looked a mess. Not only did she have flour on her sleeves, she also had flour in her hair. Mr. Shelby was only being kind when he complemented her earlier. Surely, he had to be laughing at her. She sighed and quickly brushed herself off and combed out her hair. When she decided that she looked half-way civilized, she grabbed the vanity stool. It would have to do. All of the other chairs were long ago broken – either from a drunken stupor or a fit of rage. Men were always rough on chairs, Maria thought.
She frowned when she noticed that Austin had taken the chair with the complete set of forks. Maria wanted Mr. Shelby to sit there. Instead, the Southerner was seated across from Austin. Josiah was located at the head of the table, and Dr. Cleese sat opposite of him. The only space remaining was next to her cousin. Maria supposed that would have to do. She was nearest to the kitchen, and she was seated in clear view of Mr. Shelby. The only problem with her position was that she could not keep an eye on Austin.
Another problem that became painfully obvious was that she was nearly a foot shorter than everyone else when they sat down for the Thanksgiving prayer. Her chin was nearly to the table. She could hear Austin snickering at her as Josiah sermonized for several agonizing minutes. She wanted to kick her cousin from underneath the table, but she did not want him to retaliate.
Finally, Josiah concluded the prayer. They all said their “amens,” and Maria stood to go into the kitchen. As a proper hostess, she had to serve everyone before she could worry about the height of her chair.
“Austin,” she pleaded. “Will you please get me Uncle Josiah’s dictionary from the office and put it on my chair?” The book had to be nearly seven or eight inches thick. With that dictionary in place, she would not have to eat with her head in her plate.
Austin looked at her obstinately, clearly enjoying her discomfort. After a few long seconds, he shrugged and stood up.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she heard her uncle say, “Maria is well-read, too, Ephraim. She reads books all the time.”
Maria groaned inwardly. So far, the dinner had not started well. At least the turkey turned out all right, she thought. The Peales had a turkey that could feed the entire town. Maria was certain of it as she tried to heave it into the dining room. The bird was heavy as it was hot.
Both Dr. Cleese and Mr. Shelby stood as she entered the room, but the physician reached her side first.
“Here, let me help you with that, Maria,” Dr. Cleese told her. He took the platter from her, placing it directly in front of Josiah.
“Thank you,” she replied. Maria gave him a curious look. The doctor never called her by her given name before.
“Ephraim, will you do the honors?” Josiah asked politely, motioning to the carving utensils.
“Why, thank you, Josiah.”
Maria watched the little doctor brandish the knife and fork for a moment before she returned into the kitchen for the rest of the dinner. He was still meticulously carving the bird when all the other entrees were set on the table.
By that time, Austin had returned with the dictionary, and he sat smugly in his seat. Maria rewarded him by giving him a tinier plate than the rest. Austin glared at her.
Maria was not skimpy when it came to Mr. Shelby, however. She wanted to make sure that he was well fed. She had to make up for all the bad holidays that he may have suffered in the past.
Dr. Cleese was not helping. The only part of the dinner that they were waiting for now was the turkey. He carved it so carefully that Maria thought that he must have been performing delicate surgery.
“It is miraculous to think that what we are really eating is muscle,” Dr. Cleese noted. A bead of sweat developed on his brow as he cracked into the bird’s cavity. “There are literally hundreds upon thousands of muscle fibers in an ounce of meat. You will also notice the subcutaneous layer of fat underneath the skin tissue. Quite fascinating.”
“Quite,” Austin replied smugly.
Maria sank into her seat, burying her face in her hands. It would not do for all her dinner guests to become sick.
She did not dare look over at Mr. Shelby. How miserable he must have been she wanted everything to be perfect for him, and so far, everything was a disaster.
She could hear Austin snickering.
Finally, Dr. Cleese gave an indication that he was done. Maria knew that the turkey had to be cold by now.
She stood up to serve it. She could hear Austin stifle a laugh. When she returned to her seat, she understood why. The dictionary was dusty, except for the imprint of her bottom on the cover. Surely, the rest of her dust was on her backside.
She glared at her cousin. Austin grinned mischievously. Fortunately, he seemed to be the only one in the room that noticed.
Maria brushed the dust off the dictionary in Austin’s direction and settled herself on her seat. She would have to brush off her dress when she was alone. In the meanwhile, she would try to remain inconspicuous.
“Maria, would you get me some rolls?” Austin asked politely, in between bites.
She knew that he wanted her to get up and go into the kitchen and be entirely humiliated due to the dusty imprint on her backside, but instead she passed him the basket of rolls on the table.
“No, I want some hot rolls,” he denied. “Surely ‘Mister’ Shelby would like some hot rolls. Nothing is too good for our guests, now is it, Maria?”
Before Maria could give her cousin a dirty look, her uncle began to speak.
“Maria is a fine hostess, Ephraim,” Josiah commented. “One of her many exceptional qualities. She not only cooks, but she is a hard worker. She’s a very bright and caring girl.”
Maria looked at her uncle curiously. He was certainly acting very odd. He was hardly one to give her a compliment, let alone a whole handful.
She looked over at Dr. Cleese. He smiled warmly at her. She could swear that he winked at her.
She frowned in alarm. She looked from her uncle to the little doctor and then to her uncle again. She became aware of a bigger problem than her dusty backside.
She looked over at Mr. Shelby. He stopped eating. His jaw twitched slightly.
“What about those hot rolls, Maria?” Austin asked.
Maria could feel the knot in her back develop into a huge and ugly ball. She wished that she had a straight-backed chair. This was going to be a very long dinner.
“I’m fine,” Mr. Shelby said in clipped tones. He looked a little angry. “Don’t trouble yourself.”
“No, no,” she said with growing hysteria. “I’ll get them.” Then she addressed her uncle. “Uncle Josiah, will you please help me?”
“With the rolls?” Josiah asked incredulously.
“No, with something else,” Maria smiled as graciously as she could. “Would you please accompany me to the kitchen?”
Josiah nodded and stood up. Maria followed him, carefully keeping her back to the wall. She could hear Austin’s chuckle as she went into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Maria demanded of her uncle in hushed tones as she beat the dust from her backside.
Josiah gave her an innocent look. “What?”
“Don’t give me ‘what.’ I want to know what you are planning between Dr. Cleese and me.”
“Now, Maria,” he laughed nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gave him a hard look, and Josiah frowned.
“Well, all right,” he confessed. “Maybe I just think it’s about time that you see someone nice. You’re of marriageable age. You shouldn’t be waiting on two men like Austin and me all your life. You should keep house for your husband and your children. Dr. Cleese is an intelligent and respectable man. He’d make a fine husband for you.”
Maria was touched by his apparent concern, but this was no time to be matchmaking for her. Mr. Shelby was in the other room.
“Why me? Why not Austin? You should have invited some nice girl to dinner instead. I would have been extremely happy with that.”
Josiah frowned. He leaned in closer to her and whispered, “Who do you know that would want to be with Austin? All he does is drink and smoke and carry on.
I’m worried about him.”
Maria was thrilled that her uncle confided in her. “I’m not sure,” she replied. “But if we join forces, perhaps we can clean Austin up.”
Josiah ignored her offer. “But Dr. Cleese is interested in you.”
Maria grew exasperated. “Dr. Cleese is too short for me. All he talks about are surgeries and medical forensics. That’s hardly romantic, Uncle Josiah.”
“It takes a lot more than romance to make a marriage, Maria. Dr. Cleese is superior to your Mr. Shelby out there.” Josiah’s voice became heated. “I don’t want my niece married to some outlaw. Shelby would never do for you.”
“Uncle Josiah,” she reprimanded him. “Keep your voice down.” She could feel her face grow warm with humiliation. What if the party had heard her uncle’s comments? The thought that Mr. Shelby overheard made her almost physically ill.
She whispered angrily. “You don’t know Mr. Shelby. He’s a good man, and I really like him. And I won’t have you pushing me towards Dr. Cleese, is that final?”
Josiah shrugged and smiled slowly. He left the kitchen. Maria grabbed the warm rolls and stomped back out into the dining room. She wondered if she should dare look at the faces of the party.
Dr. Cleese seemed oblivious to anything that may have occurred between herself and her uncle in the kitchen. He was busy examining a drumstick and remarking to Austin about the finer points of the bird’s anatomy. Dr. Cleese animatedly discussed bone marrow, ligaments, and tendons with her cousin. Austin pretended to listen, but Austin’s grin let her know immediately that he heard plenty of what happened in the kitchen. His expression was of outright glee. Maria felt like throwing a roll at him, but she frowned instead when she looked at Mr. Shelby. Mr. Shelby was not pleased. He was not pleased at all.
She offered a hot roll to him. He shook his head.
She frowned again, sitting down next to Austin. She chucked a roll on his plate.
Josiah continued where he left off, “Ephraim, Maria can sing, too. She has a lovely voice, as you may recall from the 4th of July celebration. Perhaps after dinner, she can regale us with a tune.”
“Yes, Josiah, I do remember her voice. She has a voice like Jenny Lind. It’s so beautiful and lyrical.” Then Dr. Cleese’s face grew bright with anticipation. “I just received some new opera records from New York. Perhaps I should bring them over after dinner so that we all can listen to them. Perhaps Maria can sing along.”
“Absolutely not,” Maria snapped, finally having enough of this nonsense. “I am not singing. If you want me to scream on pitch, I can do that. In fact, I could do that right now, but I am not singing. Am I making myself clear? I am not singing!”
Maria grabbed the edge of the table, trying to soothe her nerves as Austin chuckled. Dr. Cleese frowned, putting down his dinner fork. Josiah shook his head apologetically. Mr. Shelby wiped his face with his napkin, trying to hide a smile.
“You’ll have to forgive Maria, Ephraim,” Josiah said, clearing his throat. “She’s been cooking this dinner for two whole days now. She wanted everything to be perfect. She has been under a great deal of stress. I know that she is glad that you are here, Ephraim. I know she is.”
Josiah looked over at his niece in warning.
“Yes,” she finally remarked, not daring to look over at the little doctor for fear that he would be encouraged. “Of course I am happy you’re here. Forgive my rude behavior.” Then she looked at Mr. Shelby with all the earnestness she felt in her heart. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. Forgive me.”
A smile tugged at Mr. Shelby’s lips. He gave her a small nod. “The dinner is delicious,” he remarked.
It was the finest compliment that she received that day, and she blushed. “Thank you.”
“Yes, it is very fine,” Dr. Cleese admitted. “I’m afraid you will have to forgive me. I didn’t realize. I did not mean to cause you an additional burden after such a fine meal.”
Maria did not mean for the doctor to become uncomfortable. She was a poor excuse for a hostess. “I am sorry, Dr. Cleese. Please bring over your records. I will sing, if you would like.”
It seemed to please the little doctor, and he forgot all the unpleasantness. “I have a new record of Jenny Lind singing the love song from Le Nozze di Figaro. Perhaps you could sing that.”
Maria knew the very one. She looked directly at Mr. Shelby. She hummed it softly for him, rocking slowly back and forth to its gentle melody. Mr. Shelby stopped eating. He grinned at her, entranced.
“No,” Dr. Cleese remarked. “That is not the one. You’re singing Susanna’s song about her wedding night. Jenny Lind is singing ‘Dove Sono,’ Countess Almaviva’s aria. Countess Almaviva is resolved to win back her husband’s heart. It’s a very heartbreaking song, don’t you think, Maria?”
“It is,” Maria agreed, “but I like Susanna’s song better.”
Mr. Shelby’s eyes twinkled. “Wedding night, hmm?”
Maria blushed deeply and looked away from him.
“Yes, the character of Susanna is very quit-witted,” Dr. Cleese discussed. “She is a very animated character. I like her, too. Do you like all German composers, Maria, or just Mozart?”
Maria frowned. She did not want the dinner conversation to focus on her. “Mozart is fine, but I don’t like Wagner.”
“Wagner is a bit bombastic, isn’t he?”
Maria did not wish to discuss it. Wagner’s music reminded her of things she did not want to think about. “I don’t like Wagner,” she repeated in no uncertain terms.
Austin yawned. “Pass me the stuffing.”
“Quite fascinating,” Josiah said, obviously lying. “Are you an opera connoisseur, too, Mr. Shelby, or does only Dr. Cleese and Maria have that in common?” he asked pointedly.
“I know little, if anything, about it,” Mr. Shelby admitted. “I had the opportunity when I was about thirteen, I suppose, but I was too busy getting into trouble to bother.”
Josiah nodded judgmentally. “I thought culture was a part of a Southern man’s education. I am quite surprised at you.”
Mr. Shelby’s chin lifted proudly. “Forgive my deficiencies, Mr. Peale. I grew up with an uncle that wasn’t as polite as Maria’s. My true education began when I met Clay. His father taught me everything that I needed to know about honor and pride, and then some. That’s how you measure true worth in a man, don’t you agree?”
Maria smiled triumphantly. That stopped Uncle Josiah in his tracks.
Josiah frowned and then looked over to Maria. He cleared his throat. “You weren’t here when there was the mine explosion a couple of years ago. Many people died, but there would have been more if Ephraim had not been there to save them all. I had to tell some poor soul about old Jedediah Peale while Ephraim operated.”
Dr. Cleese was disturbed at the memory. “Yes, the poor wretch lost his leg. I had a difficult time taking it off, too. My saw was dull from the previous amputation, and he had no anesthetic. I can still hear his screams in my nightmares.”
Dr. Cleese took off his glasses and pinched his inner eyes.
None of them ate after that.
“I gotta wart that needs looking at,” Austin finally commented.
Maria began to giggle. A discussion about warts at the dinner table. Yes, somehow it was the next perfect discussion point. Maria found nothing to be so ridiculous. In fact, this whole dinner was ridiculous. Nothing seemed to go right from the beginning. The whole dinner was so dreadfully awful that there was nothing that could possibly go wrong now.
Then there was a knock on the door.
Maria stood up from the table, still giggling. She thought perhaps that it might be Mr. Call. Thank goodness the only remaining course left was pie. Maria would have to sit on the floor while Mr. Call took her seat. The very thought of it made her laugh all the more.
She was still chuckling when she opened the door, but to her surprise, it was not Mr. Call. It was Mr. Mosby’s man Zeke. He held his hat in his hands. He looked rather anxious.
“Selena told me to get Doc Cleese right away. He’s needed at Florie’s house,” he told her.
Maria frowned. “Come in,” she ushered him. “I’ll get him.”
She left Zeke in the parlor and rushed into the dining room.
“Who is it?” Josiah inquired.
“Dr. Cleese, you’re wanted immediately,” she said. She glanced at Mr. Shelby for a moment, and then addressed the physician. “It’s Miss Florie.”
Dr. Cleese put down his napkin. “It’s the baby. Do you know how long she’s been in labor?”
Maria blushed. “No, Mr. Zeke did not say.”
Dr. Cleese stood up from the table. “Well, I’m afraid that I will be gone for the remainder of the night. I’ll have to reserve a piece of pie later, Maria. Thank you so much for inviting me.”
The men stood up from the table to see the doctor and Zeke out.
They stood in the parlor for a very awkward moment, and then they returned to the dining room. The men sat in their chairs in fatigue. Maria finally had a decent chair to sit in, but now she had to serve the pie.
Not much was said as she placed the pie in front of them.
“I remember the first time Dr. Cleese delivered a baby,” Austin finally commented. “The whole Ambrosia had a round of drinks. Gee,” he said, scratching his chin, “I think that was the time I was in a posse. A stagecoach had been robbed, if I remember right. Do you remember, Father?”
Mr. Shelby put down his fork.
Josiah gave his son a hard look. “Austin”
Austin shrugged. “Just remembering.”
“Coffee, anyone?” Maria offered desperately, confused by the conversation.
“I’m afraid I will have to be going, too,” Mr. Shelby said.
Maria frowned. He had not finished his pie. She knew that the whole dinner had been a fiasco, and that he wanted to leave as soon as possible. She had ruined another Thanksgiving for him.
Yet, she said nothing to try to convince him to stay. She would leave, too, if she had the chance. She was a complete failure.
Once again, the men stood to see Mr. Shelby out. Austin handed him his hat rather gleefully. Mr. Shelby glared at him.
Maria felt the sudden urge to run to her bedroom and burst into tears. She knew she could not. She had the dinner mess to clean up.
Mr. Shelby said his goodbyes to the men, and then turned to address her.
“Maria,” he said gently.
Though it was very difficult to look at him without crying, Maria managed to do it.
“Thank you for dinner.”
It took all her courage to smile at him.
He looked as if he might come toward her, but he checked himself. He returned her smile and then left.
Maria watched him leave.
“He’s probably going to the Ambrosia Club to wait with that bastard Mosby until the baby shows up,” Austin told her. “Funny how one bastard begets another.”
Maria rounded on him, and Austin held up his hands. Josiah merely shook his head.
“One thing’s for sure,” Austin told her comfortingly. “Your dinner went well.”
Maria knew another thing. It was lucky for Austin that she did not have her wooden spoon. She knew that she would have whacked him with it. She probably would have whacked him with it until he went unconscious.
Maria nearly fell asleep with her hands in the cold dishwater. She was too tired to drag herself over to the dining room chair, let alone to her own bed. She would have to settle for a nap on the floor when the remaining dishes were clean.
A knock on the kitchen door woke her out of her slumber. She splashed water all over her apron. She heard the knock again. It must have been Newton, she thought. He was coming for his plate.
“Come in, Newton,” she managed to say, trying to find the energy to clean the plate. “It’s open.”
She stared down at the plate and her eyes drifted into slumber right there.
She felt warm hands meet hers in the water.
“Newton?” she asked curiously, only to find Mr. Shelby standing there.
He gently took her hands out of the water and dried them with a towel.
“I thought you were with Mr. Mosby,” Maria said, too confused to wonder about why the Southern gentleman was there.
“I was. They didn’t help you clean up, did they?” Mr. Shelby observed.
Maria was too tired to shake her head. “No.”
Mr. Shelby muttered a curse under his breath and threw the towel on the dry sink. He looked hesitant at first, and then he pulled her close for an embrace. Not that Maria was sensible of it – in fact, she was far from it. She knew that Mr. Shelby was nothing but a warm dream. His kiss was the most heavenly of dreams, and thoughtfully, he turned into a tall, warm pillow of support and comfort. She buried her nose into that comfort and sighed contentedly.
She felt her pillow vibrate underneath her and was vaguely aware of a chuckle.
“How about I kiss you when you are awake?” She heard Mr. Shelby say.
Maria nodded. He was a very nice dream, and it sounded like a good idea.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked her, pulling her away from the security of her pillow.
She looked up at him and nodded. He was a very kind man.
He smiled at her. “All right, princess. We’ll find you a nice, comfortable chair.”
She nodded. He was a very kind dream. She felt herself be guided by her shining knight and be placed into something very soft.
She thought he was very nice and dreamt all about it.
She woke up when she felt something nudge her in the shoulder.
“Get up,” Austin told her. “Go to bed.”
Maria did not know why she was in the parlor. She must have dozed off.
Austin gently took her by the arm. “Go on to bed now,” he said.
“I have to finish cleaning up,” Maria protested.
She went into the kitchen. Austin followed her. The kitchen was completely clean.
“Did you do this?” Maria asked him.
He shook his head. “Go to bed, sleepyhead. You’re so tired you don’t even remember doing it.”
Austin gently took her by the arm again.
Maria thought about it for a few moments, and then she touched her lips
Mr. Shelby.
“Look what I brought you, Newton,” Maria showed him the object proudly. “What do you think?”
Mr. Call looked at the wishbone, unimpressed. He snorted and looked off into the distance.
She sat down on Mr. Call’s bench. It had been a few days since Thanksgiving, and she was in a fantastic mood. The dinner was a resounding failure, yet it was also a marvelous success. Mr. Shelby did nothing but smile at her every time he saw her.
“Here. You tug at one end, and I’ll tug at the other. Whoever gets the biggest piece gets the wish.”
He looked back at her. He knew very well what to do with the bone, but he was having nothing of it. He grunted and looked away aloofly.
She laughed at him. He was unlikely to put her off. He was silly for thinking so. What he more than likely wanted was a conversation, she thought. He always liked to be kept informed of all the daily events.
“I baked a pie for Miss Florie,” Maria told him. “I think she has more pies than she knows what to do with. She had about five on the table when I got there.”
Mr. Call harrumphed. “Did the baby pop out with a full beard and ladies in tow?” he asked wryly.
Maria thought he was silly, and she told him so. “Oh, Newton, really. But Miss Selena let me see the baby, though. He’s absolutely the cutest baby you’ve ever seen. He was all crinkly and so tiny and so helpless. He was asleep when I got there, but then again, all newborns usually sleep. They are so tired fighting for life that they have to rest when they arrive. He’s going to be so cute!”
Mr. Call looked at her as if she was crazy. “Great. Another Mosby.”
Maria shook her head at him. He should really let his anger against Mr. Mosby go.
“Here,” she repeated again, shoving the wishbone at him. “Give it a tug.”
His look again told her that he would have nothing of it, but she ignored him. She held the wishbone in front of his nose. She would make a fantastic wish while he decided to make up his mind.
She closed her eyes and thought dreamily. She really liked Mr. Shelby. She wished that she would be awake the next time he kissed her. That was really something she ought to be fully aware of.
Then she thought perhaps that she ought to wish for something at little less selfish. Sure, Mr. Shelby was a fine and handsome man, and she thought she would like to kiss him more than anything, but she ought to wish for something more noble. She ought to wish for Austin to clean up or for her uncle to finally fight off his demons or for Mr. Call to stop his bounty hunting nonsense. Those all seemed like fine wishes. She ought to wish for a long and healthy life for them all. She ought to wish for Mr. Call to fall in love again and to have children and for him to live in a fine cozy home. She ought to wish for him to grow old and write his memoirs and have a life that he could be proud of. Then she knew exactly what or who she needed to ask for. She would wish that Miss Mattie Shaw would return to Curtis Wells. In her, all those wishes for Newton would be accomplished in one fail swoop. Maria settled down to make her wish.
But it was too late. Mr. Call snapped off the wishbone before she could wish properly. He held the larger piece.
“Now go away,” he told her.
Naturally, Maria was delighted that he won. He must have made a fine wish.
“What did you wish for?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Rules are I ain’t supposed to tell. Now git.”
She smiled at him. “Come on now. What did you wish?”
He gazed at her, grunted, and looked off aloofly.
She laughed at him, kissing him on the cheek. He grimaced.
She knew exactly what he wished for.
END
February 2003
See also: Biography of James Garfield