Family Stories

He spent the next three days knocking on doors in nearby towns. On Saturday he went back to the storekeeper whose wares he carried, received his pay, then asked about a suit. The old man was pleased with his profit and offered Frank a discount on a ready-made suit. He directed him to the tailor’s house on the outskirts of town and by nightfall, Frank owned another outfit.

He slipped into an empty freight car and watched the stars through the open door. Sleep eluded him. One part of him hoped the feelings she’d aroused in him would be extinguished by the real presence of her, and another part wondered how he would live if she’d forgotten him or, worse, been toying with him.

What if she had only been using him to while away a few summer hours? What if she snubbed him when he arrived at the church, her adorable little nose in the air as she walked haughtily past him? He groaned and punched his bag into a pillow of sorts. He stretched out his long form and, resting his head on the crumpled bag, willed himself to sleep.

By the time the train pulled into the village of Winston, he was a bundle of nerves. Each time he’d drifted off, her face invaded his vision. He could see again the soft curve of her cheek, the gentle sweep of her lashes, the rosebud perfection of her lips. Clenching his teeth to stop another moan, he grabbed the small bag with a sweaty hand and swung himself down from the freight car. The train’s whistle sounded in his ears as it chugged down the tracks, leaving him alone in the dark countryside.

He found an empty barn near the edge of town and crawled into a corner, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and his heart aching with worry. Stripping off his jacket and shoes, he lay down and closed his eyes, begging for at least a few hours’ sleep to release him from his anxiety.

He was up with the dawn, only slightly rested from his hours in the barn. He gobbled down the sandwich he’d bought the day before and dressed carefully in the new suit. The tailor had assured him he looked extremely well-dressed; he hoped the little man was right. He dusted off his shoes with a handkerchief. Using a bit of broken glass he found in another corner of the barn for a reflection, he styled his hair carefully. Satisfied he looked his best, considering the facilities he had to use, he hid his bag under some dusty tools and headed down the road to town.

Winston, Missouri, woke up early on a Sunday. He could smell Sunday dinners already cooking. Children sat on porch swings, their hair brushed and pulled back from scrubbed faces. Their feet swung in shiny dress shoes. They waved at him and he waved back, his mood lightened by their friendliness.

As he neared the center of town, church bells rang out. People were filing into the brick church; remembering her directions, he joined the throng at the white frame church only a few steps from her home.

He chose a pew in the middle of the right side. He bent his head, unable to look around now that he was finally there. He chastised himself for being seven different kinds of fool for even being in the same village again.

Just as he’d decided to bolt out the door and run for the nearest train station, the organist started to play. Hymnbooks rustled, and his neighbor handed him her open book with a pleasant smile. He returned her smile, nodding in thanks, then froze as he saw Marian.

She was sitting across the aisle in the front pew with her mother. A dark-blue hat rested on top of her curls, enhancing their luminous glow. Her dress was in the same sedate blue and while the high collar hid her neck from sight, he could imagine its slender beauty under the protective material.

She stood with the rest of the congregation and shifted slightly. He got quietly to his feet, his eyes still on her face. A hint of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth and a moment later she was singing lustily. The blood rushed to his head and he could hardly breathe.

He felt relieved when they bowed their heads for the prayer. By the time he sat down again, his breathing was normal. He kept his eyes on Reverend Cooper’s face, wanting to know this man who was Marian’s father, but he could find no trace of the enchanting woman-child in the man admonishing his flock to always choose the right path.

After the final prayer, the congregation was ushered out. Marian and her mother left first and he watched them walk up the aisle. Not by a single movement did she acknowledge his presence.

Eyes narrowed, he followed the others up the aisle. She had given him her answer. He had spent his hard-earned money on a suit he could ill afford, all for a spoiled country girl who only wanted a bit of amusement.

The noontime sun blinded him as he walked outside, and he shielded his eyes with one hand. “Bright, isn’t it?” said the friendly woman next to him and he nodded.

As he turned to speak to her, his mouth suddenly went dry. Marian stood on the steps, her hand lightly resting on her father’s arm. She greeted each person who came out of the building, her voice low and melodious. Pushed by the people behind him and hindered by the woman in front, Frank had no choice but to stop.

Reverend Cooper held out a hand. “Welcome, my son. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Frank swallowed, dragging his eyes away from Marian. The reverend still held out his hand and Frank belatedly remembered his manners. “Frank Robertson, sir. I was passing through and thought I’d stay for a while.”

“Ah, so our fair town has lured yet another visitor.” Reverend Cooper’s smile was one of proud ownership. “Many a person has decided to settle in Winston after stopping for only a night.”

He glanced around, as if searching for someone, and then tapped Marian on the arm. When she finished her conversation with an older woman, she turned to her father, still without meeting Frank’s eyes. “My dear, I can’t find your mother.”

“She went home to finish dinner. She knew I wouldn’t mind taking her place with you.”

Her father nodded and turned back to Frank. “My daughter, Mr. Robertson. Marian, this is Frank Robertson, a visitor to our community.”

Marian slid her warm hand into his cold one and smiled. “Welcome, Mr. Robertson. I’m glad you could come today.”

The warmth from her fingers remained after she released his hand. He didn’t think he’d imagined that slight emphasis on the word you. Aware of her father, he pressed his lips together and swung back to the older man.

He searched his memory, trying to recall what his mother would say when she greeted their minister. “I appreciated your sermon today, sir.”

Reverend Cooper beamed. “Thank you, young man. Sometimes it’s hard to know how to reach people today. So many choices pulling us in every direction.”

Marian wrapped her fingers around her father’s arm. “Now, Father, church is over. Mr. Robertson doesn’t need to hear about this anymore. After all, what could happen in Winston?”

Her father patted her fingers. “The devil is everywhere, Marian. You have to be on guard at all times.”

As he watched Marian, the slow rise and fall of her bodice, the slender ankles and calves he could see under the demure dress, Frank knew that her father was right. The thoughts spinning through his brain had nothing to do with the straight and narrow path.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I should be going, sir. Again, thank you for the warm welcome.”

He turned toward Marian, schooling his features into a neutral expression. “And I enjoyed meeting you, Miss Cooper.”

Her eyes widened, a beseeching look in their depths. He hesitated, unsure what she was asking. How could he see her again without prompting her father’s concern?

The movement was barely noticeable, just a flicker of her fingers. Her father frowned, then leaned his head toward her, his thick gray eyebrows raised in question. “Marian?”

She raised herself on tiptoe so she could whisper in her father’s ear. The soft cotton dress tightened around her slender form. Frank jammed his right hand into his pocket and flexed his fingers.

“Of course, my dear.” Reverend Cooper clapped Frank on the arm, his relationship to Marian now evident from the sparkle in his eyes. “My daughter has reminded me of my manners. If you’d honor us by coming to dinner, we’d be very pleased. I have to greet the rest of my congregation, but then we’ll take you home for some of my wife’s delicious cooking.”

Frank accepted the invitation and stood at the side of the steps, wondering if he’d caught some sort of summer madness. People stopped to greet him, their faces wreathed in welcoming smiles, and he answered them carefully, always aware of Marian only a few feet away. Several of the women were his former customers and he waited for one of them to denounce him as a traveling salesman, not worth the dirt under their feet.

But they didn’t see the door-to-door salesman today. Instead, they favored him with their most charming smiles, one daring young woman even rubbing her hip against his as she sauntered down the steps.

She tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder and he grinned. She had obviously paid scant attention to the reverend’s words that morning. Frank watched her sway down the walkway, her hips inviting him to spend some time with her. He had no doubt of her intentions.

“So, Mr. Robertson, are you ready?” The reverend tugged the church door to be sure it had locked securely. He joined Frank at the bottom of the steps.

With a last glance at the young woman, Frank made his decision. “ Yes, sir. You’re sure this won’t be an inconvenience for your wife?”

“Of course not. She always plans for some company each Sunday.”

The young woman stood poised at the gate, her hand resting on the latch. Frank shrugged, shaking his head at her smile. She spun around and stood toward the village, her black curls bouncing in the sun.

“I wonder what’s the matter with Flossie.” Reverend Cooper clicked the gate shut and turned toward his home.

“She’s not happy about something, ” Marian agreed, a smug inflection in her voice.

Startled, Frank looked at her but the reverend hid her from view. Was she as innocent as she seemed? She did know a lot about the birth of babies. Did she also know as much about how they came to be, what happened between a man and a woman?

His neck grew hot. Her father was talking about the run of warm weather they’d been enjoying and Frank immediately commented on how good the fields looked.

“And what line of work keeps you traveling so much?” Reverend Cooper asked as they neared the house.

Frank hesitated. Many of the people he met saw traveling salesmen as little more than hobos, slamming doors in their faces and ordering them off their property. The women at church hadn’t connected the dashing young salesman with the man they’d met on the church steps. Reverend Cooper professed to love all people, but would that love extend to the man walking next to him, even if he was wearing a new suit?

He couldn’t take the chance. “I’ve worked with my father in his store back in Iowa, ” he offered, staying close to the truth without betraying his current occupation. “I’ve always been good with words.”

A soft snort from the other side of the reverend almost proved his undoing. He could feel his cheeks flush and he stared at the ground. How could she turn him into this blithering fool in only a few short days?

Her father didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He rubbed his chin with one gnarled hand, reminding Frank that this man had waited a long time for his child.

His footsteps lagged as they neared the house and then he straightened his shoulders. I might not live in a fine place, he thought, but I have as much right to walk into his home as anyone. His natural confidence returned; he greeted Marian’s mother with a smile and a low bow.

The older woman frowned and Frank realized his error. She bit her lip, glancing at her husband from under lowered lashes. When he introduced Frank to her, she shook his hand gravely, giving everyone the impression that she’d just met the young man.

Relieved that he wouldn’t be discovered yet and aware that he could be doing the minister a grave disservice, Frank followed Marian and her father into the parlor. Reverend Cooper excused himself at the door, murmuring that he needed to jot down an idea before it left him. Alone with Marian, Frank sank into the soft seat of a tapestry chair and clutched the brim of his hat, studying the carpet.

“That was nicely done, ” Marian said.

He lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

“My mother. I think you’ve charmed her. She sets a lot of store by the manners one has.”

“She recognized me.”

“Mother?” Marian shook her head. “No, you were a traveling salesman the other day. Today, you’re a handsome churchgoing young man.”

As Frank started to contradict her, Reverend Cooper hurried into the room, apologizing for his urgent departure. “But when an idea comes, I have to capture it as quickly as possible, else it leaves this feebled old brain of mine, ” he said with a half smile.

Marian sat in a corner of the room, the picture of demure womanhood. When Mrs. Cooper announced that dinner was ready, she let her father escort her into the dining room. Frank held her mother’s chair and Marian favored him with a warm look from under thick lashes before resuming her modest demeanor.

The food was simple but plentiful. He complimented Mrs. Cooper on her cooking and had the pleasure of seeing soft color flood her wrinkled cheeks. Reverend Cooper talked about the many advantages of their small village, punctuating each comment with a jab of his fork in the air. Marian ate with her head down, the flash of her dimple showing her humor at the conversation.

He’d begun to relax, even enjoy himself, when the reverend suddenly asked, “You don’t have a wife somewhere, do you?”

Chapter 2

Reverend Cooper’s question startled him, coming in the middle of a diatribe on city life, and he almost dropped the forkful of mashed potatoes that was halfway to his mouth. Seeing only curiosity on the man’s face, Frank relaxed and shook his head. “No, I’ve never felt much desire to settle down.”

“Ah, the arrogance of young manhood, ” Reverend Cooper said, his fork again waving in the air as he talked. “Well, let me warn you. Before you know it, you’ll be an old man like me, your life almost over. You need to start planning now, so you don’t miss any of the important things.” He plunked the end of the fork down on the table with a loud clang.

“Now, Father.” Marian lightly touched his hand, her head bent toward his graying one. “You mustn’t say such things. You’re not that old and life definitely hasn’t passed you by. You’ll give Mr. Robertson an entirely wrong picture of you.”

He patted her hand. “You’re kind, Marian, always have been. But you’re like this young man. Mustn’t wait too long or you’ll find yourself sitting by the roadside wondering when you got left behind.”

Frank could see that her father was in the throes of another sermon. Without conscious thought, only knowing that he had to divert the older man, he blurted, “From everything you’ve said and what I’ve seen so far, Winston seems like a good place for a man to settle down. What else can you tell me about the town?”

Marian sent him a startled look, Mrs. Cooper a grateful one. How many times did the reverend spoil a pleasant meal with his moribund conversation? Frank had little time to think about it before Reverend Cooper chuckled. “You decide to stay here, young man, and you’ll have all the mothers of single daughters after you. We don’t have many bachelors around. They’ll see you as an answer to prayer.”

Frank laughed, and the reverend began a story about a young man who came to town one day last summer, expressing a desire to settle in Winston. Once the matchmaking mamas and single women discovered his presence, his life ceased to be his own.

“And then he just up and disappeared, ” the reverend said, sipping at the cup of coffee his wife had poured for him. “We never heard what happened to him, did we, Mother?”

Mrs. Cooper stood up and stacked the dishes. “I suppose he went searching for another quiet town.” She added the empty potato dish to her load. “Marian, will you help, please?”

Marian picked up her own dishes, then leaned over Frank’s shoulder for his empty plate. The soft curve of her breast brushed against him and his insides coiled with desire. She scooped up several more dishes before following her mother into the kitchen.

He wiped his hands on his pants and raised his head to find Reverend Cooper watching him closely. He pressed his lips together and hoped his feelings weren’t reflected in his eyes.

“Mr. Bates, perhaps.”

Frank blinked. “I’m sorry, sir, what?” Did the entire family jump from topic to topic without warning?

“Adam Bates, over at the feed store. He was saying the other day that he needed another hand. His son married a girl he met on the east coast and they’re moving back there to be with her family. Can’t say I blame them. It’s hard on a young woman to be away from her family. But it leaves Adam in a bind.”

Reverend Cooper nodded several times. “Yes, Adam Bates. You stay the night and I’ll take you over to see him first thing in the morning.”

Marian paused in the doorway, a flicker of alarm in her eyes. “Who’s going where, Father?”

“I was saying that Adam Bates needs another hand. Young Frank, here, might be just the man.” He dug into the piece of pie she set before him with the same intensity he’d given to his sermon. “I invited Frank to stay the night, Mother.”

The thought of sleeping in the same house with Marian only a few feet away was almost more than he could take. The apple pie tasted like sawdust and he couldn’t look at any of them as he mechanically chewed and swallowed the flaky pastry, his eyes on his plate.

After dinner, he accompanied Reverend Cooper to the parlor while the women finished clearing the table. The older man withdrew behind his Bible. Frank sat on the edge of the sofa, his fingers silently drumming on the armrest. Did he want a permanent job working in a feed store? Wouldn’t have to be forever, he told himself. There was nothing to tie him to this town.

When the women came into the room, Mrs. Cooper brought out some sewing and settled in a corner. Marian wandered over to the narrow window. She pulled back the heavy drapes.

“Mother is famous for her garden, ” Marian said.

Her father lowered his Bible. “Mother does work wonders with her flowers. Marian, take Frank for a turn around the garden.”

They walked out of the parlor and down the back hall. Once outside, he took a deep breath.

“They’re not that bad, ” Marian said.

“I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles all through dinner, ” he confessed.

“You were nervous?”

“With good reason. Your father just kept me on my toes. He’s a very sharp man, Marian. I didn’t know what he was going to ask me next.”

She led the way into the little garden area. They were behind the house, away from the parlor windows.

She stopped near a rose bush, idly touching one of the pink petals, her back to him. “Did you mean that about staying, Frank? Are you really going to interview for a job?”

She had left her hat in the house. The soft breeze ruffled her loose curls. Her skin seemed to reflect the bright colors of the flowers, and his breath caught in his throat. She was so beautiful.

He had to get away so he could think clearly. He stumbled onto the path and started walking in the opposite direction. When she called out his name in a dismayed voice, he didn’t stop, breaking into a run as he left the path and entered an unplowed field. He finally slowed near a clump of trees, leaning his head against the nearest one, gulping in the fresh air.

Still trying to catch his breath, he heard her footsteps behind him. “Frank, what’s the matter with you?” she asked in a breathless voice.

He bit his lip, unable to face her; he didn’t move until he felt a timid touch on his arm.

“Frank, please, what’s the matter?”

He turned then and saw his confusion mirrored in her eyes. With a strangled sob, he put his arms around her, pulling her close. Her arms slowly crept around his neck. When she lifted her face, he kissed her.

She tasted of cinnamon apples and sunshine. His eyes closed and he probed her lips with his tongue, wanting to taste more of her.

Her hands pushed at his chest. “Please, Frank…”

Fear sounded in her voice. Cursing himself for forgetting that she was an innocent, he raised his head. “Marian, ” he said thickly.

She traced the side of his cheek with her fingertips. “Why did you kiss me like that?”

He almost chuckled at the childlike wonder in her question. He rested his forehead against her silken curls. “Because you drive me mad.”

“I do?”

A hint of womanly pride edged into her voice. He bent down, gently nipping her nose with his lips. “Yes. Does that please you?”

She giggled. “I’ve never driven a man mad before.”

He pulled away from her until he could gaze into her eyes. “Marian Cooper, you probably drive every man in this town wild.”

Her lashes fell but not before he saw the swift gleam of satisfaction in them. “How could I?” she asked softly. “I’m the minister’s daughter.”

He felt an urge to swat her behind. Instead, he pressed a hard kiss on her lips. “That’s exactly why, you little minx. It’s enough to drive any normal man crazy.”

“I’ve never wanted to drive a man crazy before.”

The implication in her quiet words acted like a tonic on him. He wrapped his arms around her, dragging her off the ground. This time her lips answered his silent pleas and parted under his kisses, letting him taste the fullness of her mouth, her tongue meeting his again and again.

His breath ragged, he slowly lowered her to the ground and knelt beside her, his hands still on her arms. Her mouth was bruised from his kisses and he bent down, gently kissing each swollen lip. “Marian, I’m sorry. I should never have done that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re so young.” He dropped his hands and rocked back on his heels, hands lightly clasped behind his back so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her. He wished now that he hadn’t been with all those other women, that he could offer her a body as innocent as her own. “I won’t be staying, after all. I can’t control myself around you.”

“Why should you?” she asked in a whisper.

He turned away, jamming his hands in his pockets. “Marian, I’m somebody new and different. I’ve brought a little variety into your life and when I leave, you’ll forget all about me.”

She grabbed his sleeve, her touch forceful. “Frank.”

He turned again, surprised at the passion in her voice. “Yes, you are different. But I’ve never kissed a man like I just kissed you, Frank Robertson, or felt any desire to do so. Do you have any idea what the last three days have been like? I didn’t know if you’d return. And I wasn’t sure what I’d do if you didn’t.”

She tossed her head, the curls that had been loosened by their kisses fluttering around her face. “I don’t want to live without you, Frank. I love you.”

He grabbed her wrists. “You can’t love me, Marian. You don’t know me.”

“I know enough.” Her lips curved upward and she leaned toward him. “Kiss me, Frank, kiss me and tell me you don’t feel something, too.”

“That isn’t love.”

“Kiss me.”

Her insistent command pushed him to the brink. He took her by the shoulders, dragged her against him, his blood pounding as his chest collided with her soft breasts. She murmured against his lips and the action sent him into a frenzy of longing. They sank to the ground, his hands searching for the buttons on her dress, only half-aware of her hands tugging his shirt out of his waistband.

Her skin felt cool. She stiffened when his fingers slid over her breast and he hesitated until she arched against his hand. Her fingernails began a delicate dance under his shirt, trailing patterns over the bare skin of his back until he could hardly breathe.